#imagine if you were actually sent to this afterlife though what the fuck

[pterrorgrine]

in search of a purgatorial bangsian fantasy webfic about interpretation of a certain garfield comic, titled "mondays"

so i've been trying to hunt down an original short story i read on a website a bit ago, but when i post it to reddit's /r/tipofmytongue it gets deleted for being nsfw. i swear i'm not a garfield fucker. oh god. maybe i should just copy my first attempt at a tomt post:

so for context there's this infamous garfield strip wherein jon arbuckle, maybe, drinks a cup of dog jizz. i swear this is relevant.

i read this piece of web original fiction titled "mondays", which was a bangsian fantasy (i.e. set in the afterlife) about the interpretation arguments surrounding this comic. the premise is that people who die go to one of seven afterlives based on which day of the week they died. those who died on a monday go to an extremely large (but finite) field with a grid of towers at regular intervals. there is some kind of oracle or something to provide exposition on what they need to do to escape. everyone in this afterlife must vote on the question of whether or not jon actually drinks dog cum in the comic. there is a correct answer. if everyone unanimously votes correctly, they go on to the next stage of the afterlife, an actual paradise. however, if they vote unanimously but incorrectly, their memories are wiped and they have to start all over again, not remembering what discussions they'd had on the matter or how they voted last time. obviously there is much existential despair, and the story is more about how people react to the situation than the actual question. it's sort of a sociological survey of the different groups of reactions -- the die-hard supporters of each side, the people who despair that they'll never escape, the people who want to ignore the whole thing and just hang out, etc. i think it ends with the narrator coming to the conclusion that the "game" is "fair" but they will never escape anyway because they'll never agree or if they do they'll be wrong.

unfortunately, despite all the details i remember, i'm having trouble finding a google search that actually gets results; everything is swamped in more popular irrelevancies, like mainstream articles about the debate around the comic, or web fiction groups that post on monday, or whatever. i do remember that it wasn't on reddit, and i don't think was on a major site, but instead the author's blog or something. (however, it's possible it was on AO3, but searching there doesn't help either. possibly a tumblr with a custom theme?) i do think i was linked there from reddit, probably /r/curatedtumblr (where i'm at a lot), but it could have been tumblr itself, or anywhere. (metafilter?!?) obviously it was published in the last few years, as the comic arose in prominence as an interpretive debate along the lines of "when ralph wiggum says he's a viking, does that mean…", but that doesn't help turn it up because all the other content about the comic is also from that timeframe.

anyway that's the TOMT post , it got deleted for discussing dog jizz but when i edited it it still got deleted for linking to discussion of dog jizz. so now i've given up on TOMT and am posting it here so i can post it to /r/curatedtumblr on self-post sunday, and accessorarily associate myself with the concept of dog jizz. dammit. i swear i have non-dog-jizz-related reasons for being obsessed with finding this story again but that little detail keeps tripping everything up.

[teecupangel]

Normally, Desmond is sent back in time to mess with things.

But what if it wasn't him?

Like, maybe Desmond couldn't go back in time himself but he could, in the split second he touched the apple, send someone else.

What if one of his ancestors went back in time? (Upon their deaths or something.)

I imagine a young Altair (who might be using a fake name) running around Italy with a tired Ezio following like a worried mother hen. (No, Claudia, he is not hovering he is just concerned) He ends up taking Altair under his wing (No, Claudia, it is not adoption.)

Or maybe Altair ends up in Bayek's time, Oh! Or Connor in Ezio's time. (Edward and Ezio would either get along badly or be too powerful if they were together in the same time period.)

These boys ruin the timeline and somehow save the world/future by simply stumbling through everything with no clue what's going on. and of course the power of friendship and really sharp blades.

Desmond and Clay are laughing their asses off in the afterlife as their ancestors destroy centuries worth of carefully calculated plans. (They might also manipulate things a little to help.)

And the time traveling ancestors for the most part, are doing the best they can in their current situation.

They are freaking the fuck out the whole time but are excellent at hiding it.

Poor Ezio.

(No, Altair, you can't kill that person because that have information we need, yes, I'm sure, Claudia don't encourage him.)

Well… How about we add some… ‘order’ to the chaos?

Desmond only had a fraction of a second to send his ancestor back in time.

And he hesitated.

He didn’t know which one to send.

Should it be Altaïr? Altaïr always felt like he would find out what to do even if he was given only minimal clues.

But Ezio was his prophet, the one he had been with the longest…

Ratonhnhaké:ton though… he deserves answers. He deserves the truth.

And when he woke up…

In that endless sea of gray…

The first word he heard were…

“’Morning. Which fucked up timeline do you want to hear first?”

Desmond sat and blinked as Clay stood before him, arms crossed with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Uuuhh…”

“Do you want to hear about how Edward Kenway managed to save his grandson and his grandson’s mother from the fires that should have killed her?” Clay asked before adding, “Oh… and he’s learned that his son’s a Templar by the way. At least, one of his old friends believe he’s actually Edward Kenway. If you think the Kenway Family Drama is bad when you were reliving Connor’s memories, then you gotta see the top tier drama that’s happening with Edward and Haytham right now.”

“Or maybe you want to hear about how Connor got kicked into Ezio’s time? He has no idea what’s happening but he got appointed as Federico’s combat instructor. He knows jackshit, by the way, about the tragedy that’s about to happen but, hey, at least Giovanni believes he’s an Assassin from another country or something. Oh.” Clay rubbed his chin as he added, “Connor doesn’t like how close Giovanni is with the Medici by the way. Lorenzo reminds him a bit of Washington or maybe he’s projecting, who knows?”

“Maybe you’ll like to know how your dear prophet is doing? Well, he’s doing badly in preserving the damn timeline that’s for sure. Let’s see… he got in touch with Alamut and managed to bluff his way into making them believe he’s the mentor of a destroyed Assassin branch from the crusader lands, he got the mentor’s permission to make his own branch in Levant, made a deal with said mentor to become a thorn in Al Mualim’s side and find out what he’s hiding, adopted Altaïr and even went as far as adopt Abbas because he believed he could ‘change’ things.” Clay was quiet for a moment before he added, “Oh and his branch is in the underground temple in Jerusalem so he has the Apple with him already.”

“Then there’s Altaïr.” Clay said with such… annoyance Desmond was actually afraid of what Altaïr had done. Clay rubbed the side of his forehead as he started, “See, they can only be transported into what counts as their past so we can’t have something like Altaïr being pushed into his future in Ezio’s time or something. And, since your only instruction to the Moraes was to ‘change the past’, they had to improvise with Altaïr considering he’s more or less the starting point. They had to pick another one of your ancestors who was important to your past and this world’s future so…”

“Altaïr’s been sent to the time of the Isu-Human war and his knowledge of the POEs and getting unconstrained access to the POEs at their full power… well… let’s just say…” Clay’s tone was drier than the desert as he said, “The Isus didn’t know what hit them.”

Desmond could only stare at Clay as he said.

“Soooo… which one do you want to contact first as their ‘patron’?”

[princesssarcastia]

2021 Harry Potter Fanfic Primer

im here to point fingers at the incredible authors that have enabled my new interest in HP content.  im still conflicted and upset about it, tbh, but for now we’re leaning into the curve.  we’re getting out our shovel and finding out just how deep we can make the hole we’re in.  hand in unlovable hand my beloved <3.  anyway, these fics are wonderful, their authors are wonderful, and you should go read their stuff. if there’s a star next to it that means im losing my mind over it and always will be.

Creatively Maladjusted, by elumish on AO3, 101k  (they also have a wonderful writing advice blog on tumblr, @elumish, which I recommend following if you are a writer) 

A very excellent re-telling of harry’s first year at hogwarts if he were sorted into Slytherin, plus some more not!fic or piecemeal re-tellings of his second and part of his third year.  Harry, in this, has a slightly different trauma response to growing up with the Dursley’s.  He’s a bit quieter, and the signs are a bit more obvious to the people around him, and I enjoyed that immensely. 

Honestly, if you’re going to get sucked into something you have absolutely no business getting sucked into, elumish is the way to go, their fic is incredible. their teen wolf fic is also immaculate, if you’re so inclined. 

Dissonance, by ImpishTubist on AO3, 2.5k (@impishtubist on tumblr)

Set during fifth year.  Oblivious!Harry has always been a delightful trope when well executed, and this is well executed.  Plus, some angst between Remus and Harry over what Umbridge has been doing to him.

I would certainly recommend a lot of ImpishTubist’s other hp work on AO3, like Lacuna.

blow us all away, by rexcorvidae on AO3, 23k (@rexcorvidae on tumblr)

In progress (like, updated last week in progress).  Currently in the beginning of Harry’s first year.  Fem!Harry, Indian!Harry.  Hagrid puts Harry in touch with Remus when she has questions about her parents, and they become reluctant, traumatized, angst-ridden pen pals who keep missing each other’s true intentions like ships in the night.  hot DAMN do I love this fic.  there’s hints of the way the dursley’s treat Harry peaking through in her letters, and I appreciated the attention to “hmm, her experience as a girl of indian descent in britain under the thumb of a bunch of white people who like being Normal may not have been gucci”

Definitely comb through the rest of their HP fic, too, I may or may not have gone feral over it.

Where the Heart is, by silver_fish on AO3, 15k (@kohakhearts on tumblr)

Woof.  This one said, “hey, harry was probably SUPER depressed in the summer after fifth year.  like, clinically.  maybe someone should do something about that.”  Fuck yeah.  Then this one said, “that someone was Snape.”  You all know my opinions on Snape; generally, Bad.  But damn if this fic didn’t wholly convince me by the end of it.  I thought it was a very realistic way for Snape to start seeing Harry as a person all on his own, and not a proxy for Snape’s angst over James and Lily, respectively.  The angst is wonderful, the ending is even more so.

*bernie sanders voice* I am once again asking you to read through the rest of the author’s HP fic.  a lot of them have similar themes; there’s actually a great one with Molly that i’m not reccing here, Wonder.

☆Bindings, Bindings, by Quietlemonhush on AO3, 60k (@quietlemonhush on tumblr)

WORDS CANNOT EXPRESS TO YOU HOW MUCH I ENJOYED/AM ENJOYING THIS.  If I had to pick a single fic and say “you, it’s your fault I’m stuck here,” it would be this one.  Anyway Lily in the afterlife is So Very Angry about how Petunia is treating Harry, and how Sirius is rotting in Azkaban, and how Remus is alone, that she literally brings herself back to life and drags James and Regulus with her.  All three of them are there to chew bubblegum and fix everything that went wrong after they died—and would you look at that, they’re all out of bubblegum!  There’s only Fury left.  That inciting premise is very crack, but every moment after that is very much not crack.  Lily and James love harry more than anything, the way a child should be loved; James and Sirius have the epic friendship of a lifetime; Sirius and Remus have staggering amounts of resolved sexual tension and take turns keeping each other in check; Regulus, though he realized that Voldemort and his family were shit before he died, is still unlearning all his racist bullshit and, also, years of trauma.  Actually, they’re all traumatized, but hey: now they have one another again and not a damn one of them seems inclined to let go anytime soon.  Quietlemonhush went, “hey, HP has a lot of Awful people in it, and a lot of Righteous people in it, and many of them are Very, Very Powerful; also, love is the most powerful force in the universe” and i said “hell yes tell me more right now.”  And then they did!

Quietlemonhush writes Sirius/Remus in a way that makes it sooo much fun to devour, so the rest of their HP fic is most certainly worth a look, if that’s your thing.

Rebuilding, by Colubrina on AO3, 113k (@colubrina on tumblr)

Hermione/Draco (*shrug emojis into the abyss* yeah, yeah, like none of us have ever been there before).  Takes place during Hogwarts 8th year, and while the beginning is, IMO, a little unfair to Ron, it gets much better.  Tells the story of Hermione and Draco clearing the air, learning to like each other, having some hormones over each other, and then falling in love.  Also tells the story of Hermione and Theo Nott becoming friends; the story of how every single 7th and 8th year student is fucked to hell by the war and the Carrows; the story of how they start an emotional support group about it and all become friends; and the story of, what the hell do you do with yourself after that kind of trauma?

I’ve been dipping in and out of Colubrina’s HP since before I was even on tumblr; I actually found them in those dark yesteryears when the only fandom interactions I had were on fanfiction.net.  Of such fame as Green Girl, which is an HP fic staple, and has also written a lot of wackier, crackier, and darker things than that.  If you don’t take yourself too seriously, I highly recommend many of their big HP works, though I imagine it’ll press some people’s buttons.  Colubrina’s work really does take up a corner of my mind whenever I’m in an HP mood, and will take up yours if you let it.

☆ all waiting is long, by shuofthewind on AO3, 149k ( @shu-of-the-wind on tumblr)

This is so well written that I can’t stop thinking about it.  It is occupying my mind when I lie awake at night, you know?  It’s one of those.  Hermione messes with something she probably shouldn’t have in Grimmauld Place, so when Sirius is sent through the Veil in the Department of Mysteries, she gets thrust into an alternate universe...in 1975.  Instead of handwaving it away, shuofthewind actually gets into the mechanics of it in a way that makes sense, to emphasize that hermione is never going home.  ever. The world she finds herself is shifted slightly to the left, quite a bit darker, but in a “the author is treating the idea of a society-wide conflict over blood purity much more seriously than JKR ever did” way, not a sensationalist way.  Now, Hermione has to grapple with all her grief at losing everyone she’s ever loved or known, the moral/ethical/magical implications of sharing what she knows about her future in an alternate world, and, you know, a goddamn war with people who want to murder her for being who she is.  This Hermione is smart, and she’s kind, and she’s powerful, and she’s making real friends.  If you hate JKR’s guts I’d go read this right now, because it delivers in all the ways she failed us.  It’s plotty, its got great world-building, and it pulls back the white curtain on the wizarding world to show you that, like real life, it’s multicultural and full of queer people...and the discrimination that comes with both.

shuofthewind write epics, mainly for the MCU, and I’ve read some of them a looooong time ago, so this fic kinda seemed out of left field for me but im SOOOO GLAD it exists.  If you want MCU fic you can sink your teeth into, go for it, but alas, they do not have any more HP fic (.......yet?)

Speak Now [+] Listen Now, by mrsfrizzle on AO3, 33k altogether

Harry reaches out to Remus for support because Umbridge is getting to him with her literal torture.  Remus, being a former professor, former mandatory reporter, person who loves Harry and has since he was born, and all around good man, tells Harry he has to tell someone, or Remus will.  It’s everything any adult looking back on that time in HP canon ever wanted, which is for an actual adult to say “what the fuck, those are literal chidlren” and then do something about it.  Then, a far more dangerous task: Harry trusts Remus enough to go to him about the Dursleys.  Harry and Remus’ relationship develops SO WELL, and there’s a bit of exploration about how Sirius may not exactly be guardian material, because he did in fact spend 12 years of his life getting tortured instead of growing up.  I think I’m actually going to go reread this right now, because it speaks to my id.

they do have some other HP fic which did not appeal to my hyperspecific wants, but may appeal to some of yours.  I think they’re also a published author, there should be a link on their profile page.

chase the stars, by Duskglass on AO3, 101k (@felix-duskglass on tumblr)

When Harry is five years old, a picture of him ends up in the Daily Prophet, and Sirius Black, Terror of Ministry Officials Touring Azkaban everywhere, gets a hold of that issue.  He then, in order: breaks out of Azkaban; crosses the countryside to Surrey; Finds Harry: Kidnaps Harry; Breaks Into Remus’ Apartment; starts processing (or maybe just acknowledging) his trauma from Azkaban, the war, and his childhood; and pines after Remus.  It’s a little plotty, and deals a lot (sometimes through flashbacks) with the specific awful things that happened to Sirius—largely because, after years in the constant presence of Dementors, those are nearly literally the only memories he has left.  It’s a wonder he’s got the strength to love Harry and Remus at all.  But then, maybe it isn’t.

This is a Very Serious Fic, but the rest of Duskglass’s HP work is actually just cracky enough to tickle your funny-bone, while still making you think “okay but why couldn’t we have done that in the first place.”

So!  That’s it for recs, for now.  These are all things I’ve found and read in the last month; if any of y’all are interested in my old HP recs, let me know and I can make a post for that, too.  While I’m still very conflicted about my choice of current fandom, I am not in ANY way conflicted about my taste in fic and authors.  Send these guys some love, read their fic if you’re so inclined, and leave some nice comments at the end of it.

[jamiedc-they-them]

Sibling Duty Part VIII (Platonic)

Requested Imagine: One last ride for the Johnson siblings and co bring them into contact with a new arrival, and Y/N to a realisation. And their stories to an end. 

 You could both only stare at the screen. You both stared in horror. The blip was gone. The only, sort-of, silver lining to all this was that Jemma wasn’t dead, yet.  

You could still save her.  

 “Daisy, Y/N, I can feel your guilt. This isn’t your fault.” May said, trying to sooth you in this moment that was only filled with tension and blame.

   “I should’ve quaked that psychopath’s bones apart when I had the chance.” Daisy said, not taking it on board.  

 You didn’t have reply, you just stared at the screen.  

 Jemma Simmons had been taken, and you had lost another friend to going missing.  

However, a radio broadcast broke you out of your staring, out of the ringing sound in your ears. It was Elena, coming into land.  

They had Kora.

 Oh yeah, Kora. Another person with the Johnson name. One who your mother had tried to sweep under the rug.  The can was out of the worms now, your mother was dead again, and Kora was in her place.  

 You were storming ahead before anyone else could stop you.  

 “We shouldn’t tell her about Jiaying’s death.” May advised.  

 “She should know what her significant-fucking-other has done to us.” You said, for once your inability to express your emotions externally showing exactly the mood you were in.  

 “Kora’s not stable.” May argued.  

 “I’m not fucking stable, May.”  

 “Hearing that her mother died might set her off.”  

 “If she’s the bomb, then what’s the plan if she explodes?” Sousa asked as the four of you fell into a line. 

 “Daisy contained a nuke, I think she can contain Kora.” You answered.  

 He looked to your younger sister, “You stopped a nuke?” He sounded in awe, despite everything going on.  

 “Long story, tell you later.” Daisy brushed off.  

 And, at the end of the hallway, there she was, Kora Johnson.  

 You heard Coulson talk about the Inhumans from Afterlife, about how they were safe and that they would be taken care of.  

 “You must be Daisy, and Y/N –” She was cut off by you holding your hand in a fist, and a rope made of dark energy slammed her back into the wall, around her neck.  

 “I don’t care who you are. I don’t care how old you are. I don’t care what time you’re from. I don’t care that you’re a Johnson. I don’t care that you’re our sister. I don’t care about any of that shit, blood means nothing. I just care about one thing,” as you spoke, you took a step forward with each word, until you were face to face, “Where. Is. Simmons?”  

 “Nat-Nathaniel said you were – protective. Almost like a surrogate si --” Kora managed to choke out.  But the last bit, she wasn’t able to

 “Kind of my job with these kids.” You answered, before tightening the hold the ropes had, “Now, where is she?”  

 “Y/N, that’s enough.” Mack ordered.  

 “Not until she talks.” Daisy defended your actions.  

 “Agent Y/N, put her down, that’s an order!” There was a moment when he thought it would have to get physical, where he thought he would have to remove you. But, you let Kora drop.  

She coughed, gaining air in her ungs once again. She then explained her reasoning of being there, to save lives...and become an Agent of SHIELD.  

 Long story told short, you and Daisy took her into a private room after she dropped a bomb on you, that you had altered the timeline, that you were now in a new universe.  

 Daisy had her angle, trying to understand. You didn’t speak, you just watched your younger sister carefully. You watched as she slowly lowered her guard, allowing Kora to try and get Daisy to see her view, that Kora wanted nothing more than to be your sibling, to be a family.  

 You did, however, see something spark in Daisy’s eyes at a statement; “Daisy Johnson would never let her sister fight alone.” She had left the room at it, leaving you with your new sister.  

Kora turned to you, soft smile on her face, “I know you won’t believe me, but it’s good to see you again, Y/N.”  

 “You knew me?”  

 She nodded, “I did. Held you in my arms and told you I’d protect you...Nathaniel told me about how they sent you away. How you grew up in the system. And -” She tried to take a step forward, only for you to flinch and step back, “...I’m sorry. I wanted to protect you. But...I can help you now. It seems like they’ve done a good job, but I can do mine too.” 

 You, however, shook your head, “I think you did, to be honest. Getting sent away got me away from mum. I know she wasn’t all bad, but when I met her she had snapped. I can do what you did, but I can fulfil it. I can protect her.” 

 “Daisy and Sousa seem close, maybe he can..”   Those words made you stop. 

 “...Shit” You said, walking out of the room in a rush. 

 When you left, you paused, almost stunned. You then looked back at how that statement was nothing but true. They had been close. They had been getting along well. Since they met, the time (ha) you and Daisy were stuck in the loop, something happened there. 

 You loved your sister more than anything, but she hadn’t exactly had the best luck when it came to partners in that regard. 

 Coulson put a hand on your shoulder, making your look at him, “What’s up?” He asked, knowing there was something on your mind. 

 “Daniel and Daisy....they uh --” 

 “Yeah...they do seem pretty close.” Coulson mused. 

 He still saw the indecision on your face, “You wanna talk to her about it?” He asked. 

 You looked at him, now your eyes were filled with some kind of resolve. You nodded. 

   You ignored everyone on your walk to the Jet, knowing that it was where Daisy would be. As you walked up, you saw that Mack had entered, and he had flicked a switch.  

 “Hey, Y/NN.” He greeted, almost a little surprised to see you.

 The other two turned to you, “Y/N, what are you doing here?”  Daisy even got up and approached you. As soon as she touched your arm, she felt the hurt you had at being asked the question. 

 “You think I’d just let you do this alone?” You asked, trying to channel the hurt into something more.

 “You’re coming?” She asked, more hopeful this time, even giving your arm a squeeze.

 You tried to hide Kora’s words as you answered, “Someone’s gotta keep an eye on you.” She felt the familial love once again, “Move over though, ok? I’m flying.” Was your only command. 

 She gave you a mock salute, “Aye-aye.” She said with a smile before going to the seat at the back. However, this time you noticed how Daniel moved next to her. 

 You looked to Mack, taking a breath and then taking the seat next to him. Then, you were off to find your best friend/sister figure. Along with keeping your blood related sister safe. 

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

 “You ok, edgy?” Mack had coined the name (not one of his finest, but still) in terms of your powers and how it could sometimes sway your mood. 

 You rolled your eyes, “All good over here, Director.” You answered, clearly distracted as you looked back to see Daisy and Sousa talking, smiling. 

 Mack followed your eyes, before looking back to you, putting a hand on your knee, “I see it too, Y/NN. Don’t worry, we’ll give him the talk.” 

 You looked at Mack with a look, “Bet your ass we will. I mean, I don’t know if she’s ready.” 

 “How’d you mean?” 

 “Well...last one she had, blew up. The one before that was a Nazi, and the one before that sold us out. I just don’t want her to go through it again.” 

 Mack nodded in understanding, “That’s fair, kid. But, if it does go sour, we’ll be there, right?” 

 You held out your hand, he grabbed it and instantly felt a hit of annoyance and protectiveness. He had his answer, even if it was a blunt one. 

 Mack went to reply, but the sight of earth in all it’s beauty caught your vision. 

 Hell, even Daisy and Sousa joined you in looking at it, marvelling in its beauty. You looked at him, seeing him in awe. Then you remembered, it was his first time in space; first time away from earth and he got to see it in all it’s glory. 

 However, you then got back to matters at hand, “We’re about to jump. Even if we time this wrong, you two might want to go strap back in, no good floating around in space if we fail.” While morbid, Daisy still gave your shoulder a squeeze, before she returned to her seat, Daniel giving Mack a pat on the back. 

 Together, you both counted down the jump, for once, it was successful. 

 You let out a sigh of relief. Mack chuckled, patting you on the shoulder, “Good job, kiddo.” He praised. 

 “Thanks.” You told your friend. 

  Mack had gone to the back, going to talk to your sister. He knew you wanted a talk, but he seemed to call dibs on having it first. Plus, as much as he liked Daniel, he didn’t want the man to accidentally touch anything that could fuck it up. 

 The man had promised he wouldn’t touch anything, but still, curiosity and all that. The draws it had on you. 

 So, it was the two of you sat at hte front. You had to admit, you yourself liked Daniel, he was kind and you had a sort-of rapport with him. Still, this wasn’t the time for that. At least, not with the subject matter you had in mind. 

 “Do you like my sister?” He looked like he had whiplash with how fast he turned his head to face you, his eyes wide at the accusation. With the, what you guessed was almost fear, he held in his eyes, it looked as if you accused him of something far worse. 

 Actually, with everything that had happened to your sister in this regard, maybe you were. 

 “What do you mean?” He asked. He would gladly admit it if you asked, he did find your gaze intimidating. He saw the blank look in your eyes, but it didn’t take a genius to know what emotion was truly behind them. Hell, he’d been the one to help you figure out it was ok to be like the way you were, so he had a decent read on it. He gulped, despite himself, giving himself away. 

 You looked back at your big brother and younger sister as they laughed, keeping their voices low. 

 “I see, or now see the way you look at her. And I swear, if you so much as fucking make her flinch, I will -- I’ll find a way.” You threatened. 

 He nodded, “I know you will.” He said, eyes still glued to yours. 

 You went to say more, but you felt a hand on your shoulder. Looking up, you saw it was Mack who was there. 

 He nudged his head to Daisy, who was sat on the floor still, legs curled up. 

 You nodded, silently swapping seats with him and going over to her. 

 When you reached her, she smiled. She had almost smiled when she saw you, filled with a warmth that you had both seemingly been lacking for most of your lives. You always hated a part of yourself for it, how you never fully did protect her from the pain she felt before all this, how she had to be rejected so many times for it to become the norm. 

It hurt you, every time when she had a look in her eyes as if she expected it to occur. As if she expected to be let go. 

 You knew that going overboard would lead to disaster, god knew you did, but you had to keep your family safe, if Kora failed, it was were you could succeed. 

 “He’s a dork, isn’t he?” Daisy asked, whispering as if she was on a playground and you were having girl talk. 

 Well, you were, you were just past the age where it’d be a normal thing to do. It made your heart drop a bit, realising that Daisy would’ve probably never had something like that, that normality nor a friend to talk to. 

 “He’s...he’s a good guy.” Daisy caught your hesitate to say those words. She cocked her head to the side, trying to get a read on you. As she did, you had no choice but to stare back as your sister had a calculating look in her eyes, one she had been getting better at using for deduction as time has gone on. 

 “I know he is...it’s…” You drifted off, how the hell did you explain this without hurting your sister? That was something you were trying to think of as you walked over. For you, it was as if you were on a minefield, one filled with no safe placed in it to stand on. 

 “What?” Daisy prompted, she even leaned forward a bit, smile still on her face but more of the nervous kind. 

 “You remember the guy I talked about? The SHIELD agent I helped before Coulson recruited me?” Daisy nodded, “Turned out, he wasn’t so clean. Turned out to be someone like Donny...got brought into a project and, well…” 

 Daisy got hte point, “Sousa isn’t like that, though.” 

 You sighed, “I know. I know he isn’t. But...I just want you to be safe.” You expressed. 

 Daisy softened, she reached out to grab your hand, “I get that, Y/N, really I do. And, I appreciate more than you’ll know. I mean, you guys are my family. But...you’ve been there to pick me up before, just like I’ve been there for you.” 

 “But I don’t want you in that position.” You continued. 

 Daisy only smiled at you. 

 Mack looked back after a while, seeing Daisy and you leaning against the seats, both asleep. Mack smiled a bit, glad you were getting some rest, despite your ambitious goal. 

 “Y/N give you the talk?” Mack asked, after he had given his version of said talk. 

 Sousa looked at Mack, trying to think of the least amount of words to say to conserve oxygen, “She did. She always that protective?” 

 Mack sighed, knowing it would cost you more oxygen, but answered all the same, “Always has been. She’s had moments where she’s gone overboard though. I’m sure she’d tell you that story if you asked her. Then again, I know Daisy would have her own.” 

 “Why”? 

 “It was a big thing for them, and us as a family. But...they’ll always have each others backs, just as they’ll have ours. And we’ll have theirs. Which is why I’m threatening you too. Y/N’s good at saying them, but I’m good at following through with them and cementing them.”

 Sousa nodded, he got the message, loud and clear. 

 You turned away when you felt Daisy shaking your body. She did it again, same reaction. 

 “We made it, Y/NN.” She whispered. That made you open your eyes. She felt the excitement, she felt the dread, she felt the care and love you had for the gang. She smiled as you shot up awak at the mere prospect of being this close to getting one of your sisters back. She offered you a hand, one you took as she hauled you to your feet. 

 “That’s a lot of Chronicoms.” Mack was stating the obvious, it was a lot of blue dots standing between you and Jemma. 

 Daisy, however, wasn’t giving up, “We just have to find...there, you see how those are warmer?” She asked, showing those very dots she meant. By her guess, it was the pair you were looking for. 

However, another dot was there, Kora. Nothing was ever easy in SHIELD, then again, nothing was as personal as now. 

 As Daisy pitched the plan of you and her breaking into the ship to get Simmons back, Mack - weirdly - seemed to just go with it. 

 However, you saw a look in his eye, one you tried to communicate your confusion for by cocking your head to the side. 

 As you walked away, Sousa called out Daisy’s name, himself and Mack were going to get the doors open. 

 However, you were too late to turn, meaning all you saw was the kiss between the pair. Once it ended, Sousa looked at at you, “Sorry.” 

 You shook your head, “It’s fine. Just remember what I said?” He nodded, remembering. But, he appeared to genuinely respect it. 

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

 “So, what was that about?” Daisy asked as you both walked down the ramp into the corridor, trying to keep it quiet. 

 “What was what?” You asked, taking the lead on this operation. You had kind of hoped she’d of known what it was about, or at least ask this after the rescue, yet here you were. 

“You know what I mean…” She trailed off as you both took cover behind a wall. 

 However, before you could continue, Syball came on screen, always with her apathetic smile, “Do you really think you could sneak onto one of my ships? I’ll grant that your appearance is a statistical improbability. But whatever advantage you hoped to gain is irrelevant. I didn’t see you coming, because it was meaningless. You’re too late. Every SHIELD base has been destroyed. The war is over. You have lost.” Her tone matching her smile. 

 Daisy’s reaction encapsulated your own, a quick blast to the screen to shut the woman up. You continued on your way, in silence and with a new sense of vigour. 

 You forgot that, with Daisy being a Johnson too, the protectiveness you felt for your loved ones went to her as well. 

 As you walked, you found some guards coming towards you. Expecting resistance, you got ready for a fight. However, on the contrary, they just...walked past. 

 “Ok, that was...creepy.” Daisy admitted. To be honest, she’d of preferred the fight. Fighting had been what you had both been doing since day one, so to not have that for once was...off putting. 

 Still, you continued on your way. You had friends to save. 

 Daisy used her power on the button, the door shooting open. When it did, Daisy had a relieved look on her face. Deke mirrored it as he embraced her. When he looked at you, his smile got bigger. 

 You hugged him tight, wanting to get across your relief that he was ok, that your younger brother wasn’t dead. He felt it, he felt the care and love, and squeezed back just as tight. 

 However, as he pulled back, you noticed his face was sour, “What’s wrong, scrappy?” You asked, using the nickname you had given him. 

 “It -- I…Jemma, she…” He wasn’t quite sure how to break the news. 

 Instead, you both figured it out the long way as Jemma backed away from the two as if you were strangers. It was the Chronicoms and something they had done in their attempt to find Fitz. 

 “She doesn’t remember us?” Daisy asked, and you heard the hurt in her voice. However, to get Jemma to move, a deal was made; she would get her own suit for protection once you were gone. 

 Where you going to do it? Maybe, after you had saved the world. 

 As you “escaped” more guards just walked by as if you were nothing. Youd had, unfortunately but not in a bad way, had to hear Jemma try and figure out what was real and what was not; what was secret, and what was known. 

 Deke could see by the way you walked behind Daisy, by the way your stance was, that each time was piercing your soul. He could see, again, the weight of the world - or your friends - on your shoulders. 

 As you turned another corner, you were confronted by a - technically old - face. Kora. She stood, but she looked conflicted; pained and hurt, but also filled with a love for you both. 

 Yourself and Daisy froze, “Hello, sisters.” If it was any other time, you would’ve laughed at the greeting. 

 Yourself and Daisy moved in front of the other two, “Kora, we don’t have to do this. Not here. Let’s get off this ship and talk.” Daisy tried to bargain with. 

 “You knew our mom was dead, but you didn’t tell me.” Kora threw back in your faces. It was true. 

 “That was a mistake. I was trying to protect you.” 

 “I don’t need protection. I thought Y/N did, but she was better off. She’s trying to protect you.” Kora was hurt, and mad. She used her power on you. Or, rather, tried to use it to hurt you all. Daisy used hers to disperse Kora’s energy, but didn’t throw any of it back. She just kept her hands up. 

 “Get Simmons back to the Zephyr. Don’t wait for me.” Daisy ordered the pair, or what you thought was the pair. You then felt her grab your hand but not take her eyes off of Kora, “You too, Y/N.” 

 “I’m not just leaving you here --” 

 “You’re not. I can handle myself, Y/NN. I need you to trust me --” 

 “I do --”

 “Then do this for me, ok? You’ve taught me how to fight, but I can do this, ok? I can get to her.” You didn’t like it, but you gave in with her request. 

 As you walked, Deke could see you were anything but happy with the choice you made, “ Just keep walking.” You ordered. 

 You arrived back the Zephier, almost getting shot by your friends of Mack and Sousa. They pushed when they saw it was you. You moved in front of Jemma a little, arms raised up. The two lowered their guns when they saw it was you, “Deke, Jemma, Y/N.” Mack said in relief. 

 “Where’s Daisy?” Sousa asked. Man, the guy really did care. 

 “Back with Korra.” You answered, bitterness - despite how you were - could be detected still. 

 “She told us not to wait.” Deke said the part you couldn’t make yourself say.

 “I know this place. Home.” Jemma said, breaking up your conversation as she walked forward with a smile. For a moment, you felt a bit better about the sister you left behind. 

“Yeah, we’re not there yet.” Deke said, following her. Deke then spoke for you, explaining what had happened to Jemma as you looked down the ramp, hoping and praying to any potential deity that they would make Daisy Johnson walk around the corner alive and well. 

 Mack approached you, putting a hand on your shoulder and spinning you around. Compared to him, you were like the size of an ant, “She’s gonna be just fine, Y/N.” He assured you. 

 You nodded, but he still felt how tense you were and your worry, “I shouldn’t have left her.” You said. 

 He shook his head, “You can’t stop Daisy as much as we wouldn’t be able to stop you. She’ll be ok, Y/N. I need something from you, though,” You looked at him, “Some duct tape.” As he said that, he gestured to the bunch of dead Chronicoms on the floor. 

 You didn’t question it, you just went to find some. 

 When you returned, Deke walked into the main area of the Zephier with Daisy in tow. You let out a sigh of relief, going over and hugging her, tightly. She hugged back just as tightly. You pressed your lips into her hair. You looked over to Deke, who had a smile, you opened your arm up, he was quick to fill it. Daisy let out a grunt at the impact of Deke entering the hug, herself now trapped in the middle, but she didn’t complain. She was with family. 

 You entered the bar, the place you had been in and out of in your travels, one that Daisy told you became a hub. As you entered, SHIELD operatives aimed their guns up; yep, right place definitely. 

 You must’ve said that out loud, as you saw Daisy smile a bit at your accidental humour. 

 You then walked in, giving Elena a hug, before letting her move onto Mack. Coulson approached you, “You made it back in one piece.” He said, relieved. 

 You put your hand on his one that was on your shoulder, “Caring isn’t a sin, right?” He smiled at your quoting of the thing he told you when he recruited you. You looked back at your family, one that was missing one person, but one you would fight for till your last breath to protect. 

 “You’re damn right.” He said, pulling you in for a hug. You let yourself have this, closing this and letting yourself hug your father. 

 It seemed to last forever, but you assumed it was only a few moments. When you pulled away, you saw the look in his eye reflected the feeling you had inside; love. 

 You then moved to your mother, and she wrapped her arms around you quickly. Neither of you said anything, just both - like with Coulson - allowed the moment you were having. For once, you were united. 

 Well, almost fully united. 

 Speaking of which -- 

 Jemma seemed to get more of her memory back, even building a device that she placed as if it was meant to be there. Then you waited...Then BOOM! A new figure appeared, now dressed in an outfit that reminded you of Deke when you first met him. As you went to move in front of Daisy, she grabbed your arm, making you stay put. 

 The figure removed his helmet, revealing the last person in your family. Leopold Fitz. 

 You all swarmed him with questions and hugs. But, he had news, not great news. 

 He had thrown you in the deep end, make a whole new time line, before you could go back and save old one. And, there was a key to stop this -- 

 Kora. 

 You saw the realisation on Daisy’s face, you saw the conflicted gaze she had towards your brother at the news. 

 “Fitz…” He looked to you, and you saw his eyes soften, “You didn’t know if we’d make it?” You questioned. 

 He saw the way your fist curled up, you were angry. For once, though, he gulped in your presence. At the start, it was a crush that lasted two seconds, not it was fear. 

 You felt a hand on your arm, looking, you saw it to be Daisy, who looked at you with an understanding look, but she shook her head. 

 But, then came the big news --

 One of you had to stay if you were going to bring the Chronicoms back with you. That led to a debate, one that had everyone willing to play martyr. 

 “SHUT THE FUCK UP!” You yelled, eyes closed as it got too much to bear. 

 You had just got your family back, and it was being torn apart...again. 

 You felt another hand on your arm, but you ripped your arm away from the grasp, “We aren’t doing this.” You said, pointing a finger at whoever tried to grab you. 

 “Y/N.” You heard the tearful voice of Daisy, one you never wanted to hear in that way. 

 “We are not having this discussion.” 

 “We have to --” She tried to argue. 

 “I just got you guys back, It’s my job to keep us together, and --”

 “No,” It as Mack’s calm, soft, but also firm voice that made you open your eyes and meet his gaze, “Whoever stays, you think we’ll forget about them? We’re a team, Y/N. It’s our job to stay together, not just yours. You don’t have to --”

 “I’ll stay.” Deke spoke up, keeping his eyes on you. You heard Daisy try and talk him out of it, but you just kept your eyes on a younger brother of yours. 

 He smiled at you, “I’ll do what I have to do for my friends. You taught me that it’s ok to care, Y/N. You showed that to me. And I guess I’ll repay you through this.”

 “Deke.” A few tears ran down your face, but he grabbed your hand as your lip trembled.

 “Hey, I’ll be ok. Besides, Daisy’s gonna need her older sister to help her through this, along with her older brother, right?” You looked to Mack at that, and he gave a nod, confirming the words that you weren’t alone in helping your siblings. 

 You looked back to one of the youngest, “Did I do a good job, scrappy?” You asked. 

 He softened, “Best sister I’ve ever had.” At that, you shared a hug, one of goodbye. But, you knew he’d be a good leader here. He was a good man, one you loved. 

 You pulled away, and stood next to Daisy, she grabbed your hand in solidarity, giving it a squeeze that told you she was there for you. You looked at the others, seeing they’d be there for you and her, and each other. 

 You were going to do this, you were going to win, you were going to do this together, on equal playing fields, supporting each other, fighting for and with on another. 

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

 You broke off into groups, you with Daisy, Coulson, Mack, and May going into the ship being yours. You took the Zephier and split up into the Quinjet. You landed on the ship, and you got ready. 

 “You sure you want to do this alone?” Daisy asked as you went down the ramp, the others went first to give you both space. 

 “Course, you need Danny boy --” She cut you off with a serious tone. 

 “I need you to be ok, too.” 

 You put a hand on her shoulder, “I got this, ok? I taught you how to fight the SHIELD way, you taught me how to fight dirty when needed. He’s a mix of us both, good thing I know our tricks, huh?” Despite your deadpan voice, you gave her a wink as you walked down the ramp. 

 Time to save the world, one last time. 

 As you and Daisy went to the lower levels, guards appeared. You and her ran at them, you threw a blade, hitting a guard in the balls before slamming your head into his as Daisy flipped another over. You threw her a rifle as you snapped your ones kneck. 

 “Go, I got this.” You told the others. As you and Daisy took care of the rest, she gave you one last nod, before leaving to find the others. 

 Then, it was just you and Malick. Now, you had told Daisy that he was a mix of yours and her powers, and that still rang true. Only difference now? He also had Kora’s.

 Fuck. 

So, he was seeming to adapt to it. He blinded you, then got you with a punch. You dodged another, cutting him with a blade. He wiped at his wound on this cheek, you rose eyebrows. He was infuriated by it, he threw his hand out, Daisy’s power emitting from it, you went to the side, watching the thing hit a wall and cause damage to the ship. 

 Good, you could at least piss him off that way. 

 He made a ball of dark energy, you threw your own. They collided, pushing you both back. He used Daisy’s power to stabilize himself, you weren’t as lucky. You hit the floor and you rolled. 

 “You know, gotta give you kudos for not bringing Daisy into this. Really grown, huh?” Malick taunted as you stood up. To be fair, he did let you get up, at least. 

 “She’s better at the whole Kora thing. Besides, I don’t make it out, others will be there to carry on for me.” WIth that, you got back to it. 

 You launched yourself off one of the pads, throwing a ball that hit him from behind, it launched him towards you, allowing you to deliver a kick to the head. Hitting the ground, you rolled, only to then find yourself being pushed back by Daisy’s power and hitting the pad on the other side. You lost your breath as your back struck it. 

 He rose up, smile on his face as he approached your struggling form, pressing the hand to your chest, he could feel the slight fear in you. He knew that, if you could express it, you’d be trying to hide it. 

 “You know, it must kind of suck, right? Getting killed by your own sisters powers. I mean, it’s like a fucked up version of charmed...I think, I never watched it.” He lamented during his apparent victory speech. 

 To be honest, it kind of was, you were going to die here. And, as he whispered to you, “Just between you and me, I want you to know that Daisy and Kora are going to be shown your body, then that’ll be it for the Johnsons. Just a quick death, like that,” He clicked his fingers at ‘that’, “I promise, Y/N. They won’t suffer, as much pain you’ve caused me, it’ll be quick.” 

 You felt it inside you, the power you had this whole time. The thing that scared you. The thing that turned you into a monster. 

 There was a trigger for you, a threat to your family. 

 For once, there was a synthesis between the two, a coming together of your dark and light. 

 You grabbed his hand, “Yeah….but...they’ll....look....after her.” He furrowed his eye brows in confusion, before…

 BOOM! You let it all out. And, as the ship was consumed by darkness, as was your vision. 

 “She did it…” Daisy said, looking out at the ship as it blew up. She had tears in her eyes as she saw it, as she had known what you had done. 

 She felt a presence near her. Turning, she saw it to be Kora, who had a similar look. 

 Their moment was broken when May ran into the room, “Found her!” She announced. And, just like that, the Johnson siblings went a running, down to the cargo hold. 

 Once they arrived, the two didn’t waste any time in running to Y/N’s said as they laid the girl down. She was dead, that much was certain, no one could’ve survived that. 

 “She’s so cold.” Daisy said, voice trembling as she grabbed one of Y/N’s very cold hands in her own. 

 “She knew what she was fighting for.” Coulson said, trying to console the other daughter figure that had been his from the moment he met her, only thing that was missing were the papers. 

 She looked to him, smiling a bit as she saw him barely holding it together as well. 

 There was silence, a mournful one. 

 However --

 “I -- I think I can help.” Kora said, trying to find strength in her voice. All eyes went to her, but she only looked at Daisy, “I might, might, be able to warm her up. That might help.” 

 Daisy nodded, more times than needed as she sniffled, “Do it.” She said, encouragingly. Still, she rubbed your hand she was holding, trying to do her part. 

 Kora moved to the front, putting her hands on either side of your face, channeling all the power she had into it. Slowly, her hands glowed, the light emitting off of your face. Slowly, colour returned. 

 Daisy couldn’t help the choked laugh that left her as she saw what looked to be life returning into your face. 

 Kora backed up, a few tense going by.

 They ticked.

 And they ticked. 

 And they ticked by. With Daisy only looking to your face, seeing hte life that was there. You just hadn’t taken the last step. 

 Shortly after, her lip trembled. She put her head against yours, as she let out a sob, tears going down her face and hitting your own. 

 That mornful mood become more so a reality as each second went by. 

 “Am I being waterboarded?” Was a question that was asked. It took Daisy a moment to register the voice. 

 When she did, she opened her eyes to find Y/N Johnson’s eyes starting back into her own. 

 Daisy made a noise that sounded like a sob, laugh, exclamation all in one as she ran both her hands through your hair and pressed a kiss to your forehead. 

 She laughed, she laughed a lot, and she cried. 

 “Y/N knew what we were fighting for.” Coulson reinstated as he looked at you with nothing but a proud look. 

 Not one you got a lot from your past homes, “Family.” You answered. 

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

 You looked up from your file when your phone rang. You looked at the time, it was getting late. 

 Moving your hand to the phone, you felt joy as the familiar photo appeared with the caller ID. Flicking the green button, you put the phone to your ear, “Jemma Simmons, how may I be of service?” You asked. 

 “Y/N, hi! Just wanted to let you know that we’ve decided to make the meetings a tradition.” Jemma informed you. You rolled your eyes, you knew they would. Not that you minded, it was just something you put money on. 

 “Sorry I coudln’t make it. I’m assuming you gave everyone my love?” 

 “Of course. But, as always, they knew already. Daisy says she’ll be home at some point.” You nodded, then remembered that she couldn’t see. 

 “Good. That’ll be good. Oh, we still on for Thursday?” 

 “Of course! Little Ayla can’t wait to see her favorite Aunt!” Jemma exclaimed in pure joy. 

 “Yeah, well, don’t tell Daisy.” She laughed on the end. 

 “Your secret is safe with me. See you thursday, Y/N!” She said.

 “See you then, love you Jem.” 

 You could hear the smile as she spoke, “Love you too. See you then.” Then the line went. 

 You leant back in your chair as you put the phone down. You looked at a photo on your table, one of a bunch of people sitting and watching a rocket launch. Little did they know what journey they would go on. LIttle did they know what they’d learn about themselves and the world. 

 Little did they know the family they’d create. 

 Little did you know the people you were going to meet and the love you were going to receive. 

 The weight of the world wasn’t on your shoulders, it was shared with your family. 

 When it came to saving the world, as your duty as an agent was, you’d rather not share it with anyone else than them. 

As the oldest, it was up to you to look after them. But, as your siblings, it was their job to look after you. 

 Love went two ways. 

 You wouldn’t have it any other way. 

[thetrueweaveroffate]

Subscorp Week - Day Three - AU

The tea tray was placed on the coffee table outside with a resounding  thud  that seemed a bit angrier for the boy than what was typical. Kuai Liang knew Satoshi long enough now to understand that he was much more easy-going than his father - and significantly better at controlling and maintaining his anger, for that matter. Still, Kuai Liang pointedly ignored the quiet outburst to push the bandages and other medical supplies away to pour himself some tea. He brought it to his lips to blow at it, using his winter chill to cool the beverage until it was a suitable temperature, as they sat on the outer porch, watching fireflies blink in and out of the evening darkness.

"I'm thinking of sending you back to the land of the living."

Kuai Liang nearly choked on the tea as Satoshi plopped down in the seat next to them, "I'm sorry?"

"I'm thinking of sending you back to the land of the living," he repeated. Kuai Liang glanced down and realized that within his fist was the kunai from a few days past. He kept it, in the end, and kept fidgeting the sharp end between his fingers.

He slowly lowered his cup into his lap. "And what if I refuse?"

He could sense Satoshi giving him a disbelieving look under the dim light. "Why the bloody fuck would you want to refuse? You're not even supposed to be here with us in the first place."

"Thanks to you," Kuai Liang noted plainly.

"Oh shut it Uncle. You know damn well why I brought you here."

"Well?" he gently asked, "Do you think I've told you everything you've wanted to know about your father?"

Satoshi inhaled sharply through his nose, "No. But if I were you I would take the advantage of the fact that you're not completely dead to book it out of here. It's not worth the risk of the Shirai Ryu getting to you in the afterlife to ruin your chances of life  down there ."

"And the Tragedian?" Kuai Liang brought up before sipping on his tea, "She won't give up easily. It is likely she will turn to you for retribution if she cannot reach me anymore."

"We Gatekeepers can handle her," Satoshi said.

"Can you?"

Satoshi's hesitance to answer him was telling.

"The Tragedian is my responsibility. Her death is my fault. I won't have you suffer from the consequences of my actions, even if it was when I was a Revenant," Kuai Liang stated, and Satoshi understood from his tone that there was no room for argument.

"Fine," Satoshi relented, throwing himself back to lean against the backrest. He sighed loudly before Kuai Liang handed him the other cup of green tea, which Satoshi quietly accepted.

"I almost can't believe the Shirai Ryu are now a part of this."

Satoshi kept fidgeting the sharp end of the kunai between his fingers. Kuai Liang's blood had long been washed off, but he still felt like there was a shade of red still lingering on the metal. Satoshi knew it was just his imagination, like a phantom pain that isn't really there but still somehow can't be ignored. Satoshi felt too much like his past catching up to him, even though he was never personally involved in the first place - at least of his own volition.

"How is it that you are not with them?"

Satoshi sighed and put the kunai down. "Mom moved away from them when I was young. Probably because she didn't feel we were safe in the goddamn afterlife of all places? But then again wouldn't the safest place be surrounded by an army of assassins?"

Kuai Liang stared blankly into the distance. "That didn't save all of you the day you died."

"…I guess not."

Perhaps it was a bit too much. This was supposed to be a fun little adventure, albeit one entirely made on impulse, but every new day with Kuai Liang here only brought more questions than answers and more dangers than the ones he's used to as a Gatekeeper.

Kuai Liang frowned, "Satoshi, did… you know the Shirai Ryu was wiped out a second time?"

"Yeah," he nodded, "I know. They're not here in the afterlife though."

"Really?"

The boy gave Kuai Liang a curious look, "Y'know, I'm actually surprised that you haven't noticed, but, I'm supposed to be older than Takeda, and I'm not."

"Hm." Kuai Liang did notice. Although, he thought with amusement, he had just thought Satoshi was simply born shorter than Takeda… Or Hanzo for that matter.

"Ever since the first massacre, the Undertakers have avoided the Shirai Ryu like the plague. 'No amount of willpower can save a dying body'. And Father apparently returned to life from sheer rage alone. The Undertakers fear people who can just return to life like that."

"That's true." Though there was more to that story, that he figured, that would be for another time.

"That should have been their first warning. When the Shirai Ryu arrived here, the Weavers didn't immediately bring us to life. They said, my mother used to tell me, that there was a chance that my father could have brought us back to life. So, we were in stasis for a few years, and then," Satoshi wrung his hands, "Father failed. And we then woke up here. And the Undertakers didn't dare touch anything near the Shirai Ryu… and also the Lin Kuei, for that matter."

Kuai Liang frowned slightly in realization, "Raiden's offer…"

This time it was Satoshi's turn to look confused, "What?"

"Your father, he killed my brother," Kuai Liang turned but didn't look him in the eye, "Raiden said he could have restored the Shirai Ryu if my brother was spared."

Satoshi stared at him in disbelief for a moment. "Jesus," Satoshi breathed out, "The way my mother said it, she made it sound like he needed to fight some god not…" He made a tight, frustrated noise, "not… spare someone."

"I, too, would have preferred to not have him kill my brother but, well, we all live with our mistakes," Kuai Liang leaned forward to pour himself of the remaining tea to hide his grimace, "He regrets it to this day. He regrets what he did as Scorpion."

Satoshi leaned back into his seat, contemplating, "Uncle, I need your honest opinion on something."

"Which is?"

"Do you think my father is a good person?"

The question seemed so sudden that it stunned Kuai Liang into silence. "You know I would say yes," he started slowly, "so why ask me?"

"I believe you have the, uh, most objective view of him."

Kuai made a disbelieving noise, "I wouldn't love him if he weren't a good person."

"Well so would my mother," Satoshi answered, "But Mother made it sound like my father was the most noble and honorable samurai in all the worlds, instead of a  shinobi ."

"And how am I different from your mother?"

"Well," he started slowly, "The difference is that you were enemies with my father for a duration of time. Correct me if I'm wrong, but, you hated him more than anything for a short while. I would assume that means you understood his flaws better than anyone else."

"Then what else is there to say? His own rage was his downfall, but," Kuai Liang pondered briefly what to say next, "He'd fought for vengeance. He'd made mistakes and fell to corruption, but made full use of the second chance granted to him. He rights his wrongs and rebuilds the old clan he lost. He's an honorable man committed to his principles."

"Hm. I used to think that. That we were honorable - they were honorable."

"Were they not?"

"Uncle, I didn't think I would need to remind you of this, but the Shirai Ryu was a clan of assassins," Satoshi said with some disdain, "The only difference between them and the old Lin Kuei was that they treated us as family instead of utter shit. But that doesn't excuse the fact they still killed  for a living. Christ, my father was sent to steal an important relic, client be damned."

Kuai Liang winced, not because he couldn't come up with a suitable counter, but at the sudden memory that Hanzo ended up dying at his brother's hands at that mission. And then the Shirai Ryu were wiped out not soon after.

"He's not the man he used to be," Kuai Liang insisted, "You know the Shirai Ryu has been reformed to the defense of Earthrealm. He takes in people of all walks of life, and gives them a home, and your father would have walked through hell and back to protect his family. Including me."

Satoshi sighed. "I guess you have a point. It just really irks me how you have renounced the sins of your old clan, but…" he cast a sideways glance onto the kunai on the coffee table, "But my father hasn't done the same. Not to my knowledge anyways."

"Perhaps not," he conceited, "Your father and I, we both killed innocent people, but he had a choice to decide who to devote his efforts toward. You have to understand that everything he does, he does for his family. Every good deed and every failure he committed was for you. He wanted to protect you, to avenge you. He - maybe he wasn't a good man by the Tragedian's standards, but I know he would have been a good father."

[fairytsuk1]

despite everything, it’s still you | (a)

character: tommyinnit

genre: angst

words: 1.8k

summary: tommyinnit is sent to the afterlife after being killed by dream, his experience as a broken soul in the afterlife is different than he'd imagined.

warnings: head injury at the beginning and it’s a bit graphically described! also depersonalization with the afterlife

notes: a bit different from my usual stuff but i had this idea and wanted to do it!

     The last thing Tommy's present body feels is his brain practically leaking out of his ears. The force with which his head is knocked into the ground is too strong, and he instantly blacks out. Dream's fists collided into him much harder than he thought, and it was even harder to try to block each hit as he was instantly overpowered by the godlike man. He just couldn't seem to get away. His soul might have even been connected with Dream's at one point; how could someone live every day of their life and always go back to the one who caused so much pain?  It's not a peaceful end; it's gory and sticky with blood splattered on the quickly growing pale skin. When Tommy opens his eyes, there's no Tubbo or blue sky; it's just white. The first thing he realizes is that he's not breathing, but he's not dying because of it. Because, well, he's already dead.

"Dream?..."

     His thoughts are there, at least the most important ones. There are some of them that blur together, like watching a movie on fast-forward and not pausing. He couldn't remember his life so far up to his death, and the panic was setting in; what man didn't remember their own life? Was he even Tommy?  A thump beats in his chest but looking down...there is no chest at all. In fact, there is no skin, bones, no solidifying figure that could tell him, "ah, I was a person."  Tommy doesn't even want to think about what would happen if he didn't know his own name. Would he be lost to time forever?

"What the fuck is going on…?" his finger jabs at the translucent blob of a figure, he's still got limbs, but he looks like a bucket of slime rather than a fleshed-out human, "Hah! I'm like fuckin' Charlie Slimecicle…"

      His humor hasn't left him, which warms his heart. Well, he supposes he has no heart as Tommy continues to poke and prod the gelatin-like substance he was hosting. It was weird seeing the ghostly shape of your own body, long legs, and big yet bony hands...it was freaky.

"This is just disgusting, actually. Fuckin' hell…"

     He stands and tries to ignore the way he feels weightless; it's depersonalizing. Makes him nauseous to think of how he doesn't exist in the mortal realm, but instead, he's here in some sort of blank space.

"Wilbur!"

     Walking, he realizes that he feels loose and lets out a laugh when he twists his body and finds it going farther than any human could. His ghostly capabilities were kinda cool! He had to focus though he needed to find a way to jump back down to Earth if he was dead. As much as he enjoyed being able to touch his toes and squat with his feet flat on the ground, the loneliness was starting to get to him.      Though he didn't say anything out loud, being dead was starting to get a little scary. Of course, the lead-up wasn't nice, and he's glad to be pain-free (though he does jerk out of shock once he realizes his head is caved in). There's something about being alive that is just so...he misses it, that's all.

"Wilbur!...Schlatt??"

     Tommy walks for a while with no changes to his atmosphere. For a moment, he thinks that he hasn't even been walking with the lack of environmental changes. That train of thought simmers to a stop as he spots a bench in the distant future, running towards it at lightning speed. There's no sound when he runs; his voice doesn't even echo. It's as though this afterlife has nothing in it at all. Like it's made of nothing. Like he's made of nothing.       He relaxes into the bench and smiles widely; if only he had his favorite disks! It's like being with Tubbo again, like being kids again! The warm touch of affection kisses his cheek as warmth spreads through him. When can he go back? He's so ready to go back.

"You know, Tubbo, I hope you're not all focused on Ranboo to forget about me! I mean, I'm that one that, you know, died!"

     Who is he speaking to? This afterlife is really getting to him, there is no Tubbo here, and there is no Mellohi. The smile fades as he glances around, white on white: white walls, floor, ceiling.

"Whoever the God here is, your heaven is shit."

     He shouldn't have said that. The bench rumbles, and he's shocked to see it crumbling underneath him. Chips of wood fly into space, and he scrambles off of it, watching it decompose his very own eyes.

"Ah, ah, wait! I'm sorry, I'm really sorry! Give it back! Give me my damn bench back, you bitch!"

     A bigger piece flies off and slices his hand, a glob of his fingers falling off and melting into the ground as he stands panicked. There's no blood, but it suddenly hits him. He isn't even human; this is all he has left. He's lucky to have his thoughts. That is his last tether to all he knows. If he lets himself be broken down, he'll never be human again. His time is limited. He has to find a way out.      

     His feet take off before he can even realize it, sprinting as he shouts for Sam, Tubbo, Wilbur, and even Phil.      

     But nobody came. No-one scooped him up and rescued him like they should've. He's only a child, for god's sake!

"What have I done to deserve any of this!? Let me go back! I want to go back!!"

     His voice is shaky as he spins, decomposed and blocky trees forming around him like corroded pixels. He could cry, but he's holding it back; Dream instilled that in him. The less you care, the better the ending. The trees fall in shards, and each one that touches him breaks off a piece of him. He's practically melting as he runs through the rain of pixels, each one hell-bent on destroying his soul.      Right now, he's no human. It's his soul in the purest form. His feet stick together before pulling apart, and he collapses onto the solid white ground. Everything jiggles, and he thinks he might pass out with the pure shock of taking in everything around him. His body ripples like water as he hears a faint and distant voice call for him.

    "Tommy?"

     A memory.         "My first decree, as the President of L'Manberg, the EMPEROR, of this GREAT COUNTRY! IS TO REVOKE! THE CITIZENSHIP! OF WILBUR SOOT AND TOMMYINNIT! GET 'EM OUTTA HERE!"

      Is that his savior? The one who's come for him? The one who caused his life hell in the first place? Well, maybe it was Wilbur who did that. Or Technoblade. Or even Dream, but Dream was his friend even though he struck him so hard he sobbed for someone to help him—

     "Hey, Tommy! What the hell are you doing, kid? Where the fuck's your body?"

     He's being hoisted up by his arms, and he pushes into Schlatt's chest as he cries and cries. The Ram hybrid grunts and mumbles something before pushing him back to hold his shoulders. He was never one for affection.      When Schlatt looks at Tommy, he knows this is the book's doing. Dream, the current owner of the book, had done this all in preparation. The easiest way to bring someone back was to only let their pure soul transfer on, everything else remaining the same.

     "It's easier than moving a whole body, right?"

"Whatever, just take the fucking book, man. I'm busy."

     Tommy's damaged. He's deformed, and his soul is hot to the touch. He's in agony. He didn't know he could sleep till it was over or relax. He tried to fix things and find a solution like he always does. Now, he was broken like he always was.

"Schlatt I...how do I go back? I don't want to be here anymore! It's fucking shit! And, and it hurts! This isn't some heaven; it's fuckin' hell!"

     Dream sat on the prison floor after arranging Tommy's body in a relaxed position, the book open in front of him.

     "Time to come back, Tommy."

     "Hey, hey! You listen to me! That fucker Dream, you have to be strong! He's messed you up, but this isn't the Tommy I know! You don't fucking cry, and you don't fucking get scared! You're the bravest kid I know!"

     Tommy feels flashbacks come to him, slowly but surely. Him rowing to fight Dream, the bravery he had when he fought him one on one. The first disk war...he was so brave.

     When he looks up at Schlatt, he sees the man he fought so hard against and won. He clocks in at that moment.

     I used to be someone. Now, I'm just like everyone else. Scared and weak.

     "You used to be someone, Tommy! You are someone! You just have...believe and know... you're stronger…!"

     Schlatt gets all twisty and turny, his vision fading in and out as he feels himself being dragged away from his arms. For a second, Schlatt reaches out, seeing his son in a box. He retreats and opts to yell out as Tommy fights to regain himself.       The strength is unrelenting as the young boy's head twists to see his arm pulled like taffy towards a glowing light. It's so pretty; he could almost just touch it and forget it all.

     "You are stronger than anyone else, Tommyinnit!"

     His head whips back, and he extends a jelly arm, his fight coming back to him.

     "If you fucking lose yourself, you'll lose everything!"

"If I lose myself, I'll lose everything…"        "You were made to beat this world, and don't you dare fucking forget it!"

     It makes Schlatt grin as Tommy's widened eyes get pulled as he's compressed into a singularity. There's a sudden pop, and Schlatt's knocked back as the white walls envelop him. He wants to yell more, but Tommy's already back where he belongs. He's already gone.

     "Tommy? Hey, Tommy!"

     His cerulean eyes open like he'd just drank an energy drink, a smiling mask staring up at him. For a moment, he wants to shrink back into the floor.

     "How was it? How was the afterlife?"

 If I don't beat him, how could anyone else?

     He snickers, "awful. I'm never going back there again."

     Tommy feels determination settle in his soul. After everything, he's still him. If he loses himself, he'll never be able to bring it back. So, the only other option is to fight.

     If I win, maybe then, I can know who I am.

[baepop]

Sacrifice 2

You return home, hoping to find the answers you desperately search for.

Word Count: 9.7k

Pairing: You x BTS Members

Genre: Thriller, Smut, Angst

Warnings: OC is fucked in the head basically (disturbing thoughts, actions); gore, graphic descriptions and self-harm

Part 1 | Part 2

He’s trying his hardest, but those pesky crimson marks just won’t come out. He’s tried everything he could think of, even followed a few stain removal tutorials on YouTube, but the unsightly blood stains have seeped deep into the fabric of his upholstery. He regrets neglecting the condition of the interior of his car for so long.

Even still, as he looks down at his soiled car seat, he can’t help but smile while imagining the satisfaction you might’ve felt to know he couldn’t completely erase you from his life. You had always managed to find a way to cling onto him, it seems, even now in the afterlife.

Namjoon carefully backed away from the entrance of the passenger side of his car to take a breather. He wiped the sweat off his brow and rubbed his hand on his shorts, huffing at the sight of his failure. He pursed his lips, mulling over what cleaning agents he might have left in his terribly stocked apartment that could do the trick. Suddenly, he slammed his fist on the hood of the car, overcome with emotions of regret. He allowed himself to feel for just a minute before taking a deep breath and hunching over the seat again to begin scrubbing more forcefully.

But just as he began abusing the seat once more, a tiny hand clutched at the tail of his sweater and yanked lightly a few times to get his attention. He whipped his head around only to find the neighbor’s daughter staring up at him, a bit of fear in her eyes. She was only 5, and she must’ve seen Namjoon lose his cool for a second just now, given the slight quiver in her bottom lip.

Namjoon stared at the child for a moment before backing out of the car again and picking her up. He nestled her into his side, giving her a big smile and wiggling her hand about while greeting her in a silly voice. She giggled shyly, wrapping her tiny arms around his neck.

“Mommy said to come get you.” She stated her mission matter-of-factly before burying her head in the crook of his neck as she’d done countless times before.

“Okay, then let’s go see what Mommy needs this time, shall we?” The little girl nodded as they crossed the lawn into her mother’s property. Namjoon knocked a few times before letting himself into the door ajar. The smell of overcooked chicken filled his nostrils at once.

“Um, hello?” He called out to no one in particular. He was greeted by an empty living room.

“In here!” The voice came from the kitchen where his neighbor was busy preparing an early dinner. Namjoon put the little girl down but she grabbed two of his fingers and led him into the kitchen.

“Oh, hi ma’am. Did you need something?”

The woman rolled her eyes as she blew on a piece of steaming chicken before popping it into her mouth to taste. “How many times do I have to tell you to call me Yong?! Ma’am is my mother.” Namjoon blushed and hung his head in embarrassment, smiling at the ground and nodding. “You know, we’re not that different in age, only a few years apart. But I get it though, turning 30 still seems like a huge change to people in their 20’s.”

“Oh, I uh, no that’s not— I’m sorry, Yong.” Namjoon clears his throat while the older woman chuckled.

“I hope you weren’t busy, Namjoon.”

“No, no not at all!”

“It’s just that my bathroom sink is leaking, and I have no idea what’s going on! My husband won’t be home for a couple more days and—”

“Oh, it’s no issue! I’ll take a look at it, probably just a simple fix.” Namjoon smiled at her brightly and motioned towards the bathroom for permission. She beamed as he let himself further into her house.

Namjoon entered her small bathroom, immediately turning on the sink to see what the issue was. As the water trickled from the base, he opened the bottom cabinets and crouched down, sticking his head into the confined space to get a better look. He ran his fingers over the tubing, nodding to himself as he turned off the water and joined Yong and her child in the kitchen once again.

“There’s hardly a problem. Your plumbers’ putty ran dry, and it was especially thin to begin with, but it’s nothing more putty won’t fix! I actually have some to spare in my apartment, I’ll go grab it really quick.”

“No no no, sit! Dinner’s ready, you can do that after!” Namjoon parted his lips to protest but his stomach growled extra loudly. The small child giggled, pulling on his fingers to lead him to his place set at the dinner table.

Although Namjoon wanted to be polite and refuse the meal, the truth was that he wasn’t eating too well these days. You had always been over his house making him food, so his meals as of late consisted of microwaved noodles and handfuls of goldfish crackers.

Namjoon thanked the woman for the hot meal, wasting no time on stuffing his face.

“No, thank you. You’ve been such a big help around here for so long! It’s been rough this year with my husband’s enlistment,” Namjoon nodded along, making eye contact as he shoved spoonfuls of rice into his already full mouth, “and especially so this past month.”

Namjoon perked up at the ambiguous statement, “How so?”

“Well—”

“I’m getting a littwe bwother!” The small child exclaimed joyously from across the dinner table. Namjoon froze with his unchewed food on display, looking over at Yong who was embarrassed by the outburst.

“Well, it’s still too early to know the sex but, she’s really hoping for a boy.” The woman smiled at her daughter who was picking up pieces of food with her tiny fingers and attempting to feed it to her stuffed animal who also had a place at the dinner table beside her. Yong looked over at Namjoon who had not taken his eyes off her once, nor closed his mouth for that matter. She blushed, looking down and speaking in a low tone so that her child wouldn’t understand, “Don’t worry, it’s not yours.”

Namjoon’s eyes lacked emotion. What she mistook for fear and anger was simply calculation on his part. “Are you positive?”

The woman sighed then smiled again, putting a hand on his shoulder and maintaining eye contact. “Yes, I’m sure. Now, finish your dinner.”

The boy nodded, bringing his attention back to his now unappetizing plate of food. He had already done the math; the child was definitely his.

The conversation lulled, so they both hurried through eating. Once his plate was empty enough, Namjoon sprang up to his feet and announced that he’d return with some putty in just a moment.

As he let himself out into the evening air, he noticed it was finally starting to become cooler. He walked across the lawn and over to his place with his hands in his pockets, whistling his favorite tune.

The next day, he went to work as normal, driving his car across town to the grocery store he managed and parking it in a residential street since the parking lot looked full when he passed by. On his trek up the block, he noticed a bright white flier stapled to the telephone pole at the corner. As he got closer, he recognized a picture of Jin plastered front and center with the words reward if found written underneath it. Seokjin came from money, so Namjoon wasn’t surprised about the lengths his parents were going to to get their son back. Besides, he already knew they would do this since he’s the one that sent them that picture of Jin.

Namjoon ripped the flier that had threatened to bring forth his turbulent emotions to the surface once more from its staples, crumpling it up and shoving it into his pocket. Luckily, this wasn’t enough to ruin his good mood today.

“Good morning.” Namjoon nodded towards his staff members as he entered into the cool facility. Everyone greeted him back, relieved to have him in the building as there were already issues that needed solving even this early in the morning. But before they could begin hounding him for directions, one of his assistant managers pulled him to the side.

“Someone’s here to see you. I told them you wouldn’t be in until later on today, but they insisted on waiting. They’re in your office, I hope that’s okay.” Namjoon smiled at the girl and assured her everything was fine. He watched her walk away before turning down the hallway towards his office. As soon as he opened the door, a very worried Jungkook shot up from the small couch that lined the wall. His eyebrows were furrowed, and his eyes were panicked. He gripped the flyer of Seokjin in one hand and his phone in the other.

Now this, this was enough to put Namjoon in a bad mood. He sighed and closed the door behind him.

Your eyes opened and were immediately flooded with bright white light from all directions. You shut them quickly, then reopened them little by little, trying to adjust to the setting. The first thing you noticed were curtains billowing at the foot of your bed. They were white, just like everything else in the room.

Wait, a bed?

You craned your neck to get a better look at what you were laying on, but your body was stiff, so you plopped back down and took a deep breath, letting your eyes wander instead.

The sun was shining brightly and illuminating the dreary room you’d been left in. You were definitely in a hospital, you realized, as you noticed multiple beds with curtains drawn around them.

Why am I here?

You laid there, trying to remember something, anything, but you only drew incomplete memories. You closed your eyes, trying to make sense of everything. It was all a painful haze, reels of jumping into a river, and blinding car lights at the forefront. Suddenly you recalled being shaken and yelled at, the voice sounding as if through a tunnel full of water, and the face more ambiguous still. But his grip was strong on you, bruising your shoulders with his vehemence to get you to understand.

Get it together kid!

You gasp as your eyes burst open. “Jin!” You yell out and a nurse who was most definitely not Jin rushed in.

“Ah, you’re awake!” The older woman came to your side to check how you were doing. She doesn’t know anyone by the name of Jin, much to your disappointment. “Do you remember anything about what happened to you?” She pulled up a chair by your bed with your chart in her hands. You shake your head in denial. It’s not a lie, but the little that you do remember, you want to hold onto for a bit longer in order to piece together this puzzle on your own. “What’s your name?” You hesitated, then shook your head once more. She nodded in understanding, flipping a page up before turning back to you and speaking in a soothing tone. “Miss, you were found on the side of the road a couple miles from here in critical condition. You underwent a septic miscarriage, but your body showed signs of extreme stress and battery as well. It appears you were unconscious for a couple of days before you were found and, luckily, we were able to bring your fever down and get your blood pressure back to a normal state which halted the beginnings of organ failure evident in your body.” You nodded along to everything she said, but none of it was making any sense. You just couldn’t believe she was talking about you. She had to have been looking at someone else’s chart. “You’ve been administered antibiotics to treat the infection. I have to say, though, you’re one hell of a fighter! We weren’t sure you’d wake up after the medically induced coma you were under, but here you are!” The woman smiled brightly then paused before continuing, giving you a stern look. “You were in pretty bad condition hun. So,” she reached out and placed her withered hand over your own, “the minute you remember anything, you let us know. Okay?” You nodded sullenly, just wanting to be left alone. “Now…this Jin person…”

“He wouldn’t.” You looked at her sharply, not letting her even think that he could be capable of doing something like this to you. The woman nodded and stood up.

“I’ll give you a minute to be alone.”

You watched her retreat back into the hustle and bustle of the hospital hallway as you plopped your head against the pillow. Considering the kinds of questions she was asking you and the kind of room you had woken up in, you surmised that you had been counted as another Jane Doe, placed into a room full of other unidentified people who had been dying.

Whenever you went out, you always made sure to have your ID and your phone on you, so you wondered if you had been robbed and attacked. But why was I alone and so far from home? Suddenly the face of the person you missed most popped into your head.

Namjoon.

The thought of something so awful happening to you without the love of your life by your side to comfort you was too much to bear.

You rolled over on your side and let hot tears spill from the corners of your eyes, moistening the crisp linen sheets. As the evening went on, your silent crying became more audible, your body shaking with both physical and emotional pain. You hugged yourself tightly, processing the realization that you had lost Namjoon’s baby, and you were now all alone again.

By the time night came, you had rolled over to cry while staring up at the ceiling, letting your sobs be heard now that the hospital was quiet. It always felt better to let loose while crying instead of doing it in secret, besides, everyone in your room was in a coma anyway, or so you thought.

In the middle of the night, you heard a groaning that morphed into a cry of frustration. Suddenly the curtains around the bed diagonal from yours were yanked open violently and piercing angry eyes drilled holes into your watery ones.

“I stayed quiet all day, pretending not to be awake so that you could have some privacy, but now you’ve been crying for 8 fucking hours and I’m trying to sleep. So could you please, for the love of Christ—”

“JIN!” You bolted upright then winced, mildly regretting your excitement for a second. The boy paused, furrowing his eyebrows as he watched you carefully climb out of bed and slowly hobble over to him in your billowing night gown.

Once you got to his bedside, your eyes watered again seeing him all bandaged up and staring up at you dumbfoundedly.

“What the hell happened to us…” You began crying again, leaning into him for a hug and sobbing on his chest. He groaned again, rolling his eyes and patting your back.

“Listen lady, I don’t know why you keep calling me Jin but—” You froze, backing off of him and wiping your eyes as you realized the bandages around his head must’ve been more severe than you thought.

You limped over to the foot of his bed and picked up his medical chart, reading over it quickly. You winced at the extensive list of procedures they had to operate on him once he was found. But thankfully, it was still possible for him to regain his memory one day.

Days, upwards of a year with daily physical therapy. You read the words before closing his chart with a sigh, looking back over at your friend who was regarding you warily. You couldn’t help but feel like this was all somehow his fault. Still, even if it was, you wouldn’t know for sure since neither of you remembered what happened.

“Um, that’s… I don’t think you’re supposed to look at other people’s charts…” You smiled and retook your place by his side.

“It’s okay for me to look.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because I’m your fiancé!” The boy cocked his head back, stunned into silence. He gave you a once over with his eyes, lifting up your left hand for inspection.

“Oh yeah? Then where’s the engagement ring?”

You pulled your hand out of his grasp. “You proposed without one…because we decided we’d go buy one together.”

Jin scoffed, “Yeah well, proposing without a ring doesn’t sound like something I’d do.”

You rolled your eyes. Yeah well, proposing isn’t something you’d ever do either.

“Okay fine, I’ll prove it by telling you something only your fiancé would know.” Jin sat up, watching you curiously as you sat pensive at the edge of his bed.

“Your dick hangs a little bit to the right when it’s hard.” Jin smiled, scratching his cheek in embarrassment.

“Well, I mean…technically, a lot of girls would know that.” You rolled your eyes again, trying to think about something intimate he might’ve shared with you during your years of friendship.

“You started smoking cigarettes when you were 12 because that’s when your dad left, and the smell of smoke always made you feel close to him.” Jin dropped his hand as he looked at you with renewed curiosity. He didn’t remember saying that to anyone ever, probably because he was piss drunk when he said it to you during one of your many smoke breaks together, or because he’d lost his memory. Still, he couldn’t deny that you must’ve been someone important to him if you knew something like that about him.

“So…you’re…my fiancé?” You nodded, taking his hand and rubbing circles onto his knuckles for added effect. You watched him as he visibly processed the news. You weren’t sure what the last thing he remembered was, but it had to be from years ago since he didn’t even know who you were. “Then…what exactly happened? I heard the nurse say something about a miscarriage…”

You nodded at Jin sullenly, clutching at your abdomen as your head hung low. Tears welled in your eyes, but you quickly dabbed at any that fell. “I’m sorry.”

Jin was stricken with sadness. He didn’t feel connected to you or the situation, but the thought of him and you losing a baby, he could understand to be awful. He made space for you on his bed and pulled you onto him, hesitantly rubbing your head as you curled into his side. You two slept together side by side for the night, but you awoke at the crashing sound of thunder and lightning close by only a few hours later.

Your eyes burst open at the sound, immediately checking to see if Jin was awake too. The room was still dark even though it was very early in the morning. The rain clouds blocked much light from coming into the room as it was.

You searched Jin’s face, but he still laid peacefully asleep, so you laid back down and nestled into his side. It’d been forever since you’d cuddled someone, or even made love to anyone. Knowing there wasn’t much fabric standing in the way of your naked bodies wasn’t helping the dull ache in between your legs.

You rubbed your thighs together, letting your eyes trail his features. You’d always thought Jin was attractive, but anytime his mouth would open the illusion would crumble.

But now that his memory was gone, he was different, nice even.

You brought your hand up to his chest, hesitating before placing your palm gently over his heart. You felt it beating strong and steadily.

Your hand trailed downwards, ever so lightly over the fabric of his medical gown. You ran your fingertips over the expanse of his abs, making your way towards his pubic area until his hand clamped around your wrist, halting it from moving further down. Your heart stopped for a second, since you had been sure he was unconscious.

Suddenly you heard his groggy morning voice speaking deeply just above your head.

“Don’t start something you’re not going to be able to finish.” You looked up at Seokjin who was suddenly wide awake and regarding you curiously, a challenging glint in his eyes.

“Since you lost your memory, allow me to remind you how I always finish.” You challenged him back, smiling when he let go of your hand. You cupped his member, squeezing just a bit to earn a hiss from the handsome brunette.

It was just early enough so that the medical staff wouldn’t barge in and bother you just yet, so you decided not to waste any time. You quickly exposed his bottom half, licking your lips at the sight of the hard on that already awaited you. But as you lowered your head onto his length, you noticed all of the bruises that littered his body, and the bandages wrapped around his torso. You frowned, looking up at him with pity in your eyes.

“Jin…” You sat up fully, remembering the list of injuries from his medical chart.  

He sighed and met your eyes, “It’s okay if you don’t want to.”

“No, I do. I’ll be gentle, just let me know if anything hurts, okay?” He nodded, watching you as you climbed over his midsection and nestled your legs on either side of him.

You sat on his dick gingerly, your lack of clothing under your gown earning you direct skin to skin contact. You supported most of your weight but applied enough pressure to tease him in between your folds. He hissed as you looked up, wondering if you had hurt him already, but seeing his lustful eyes trained on your core told you otherwise. You swirled your hips sensually, moving the head of his dick vertically in between your legs to get it wet with your arousal. It wasn’t long before he was moving his hips to the rhythm of yours, eager to enter you already.

You obliged, sighing contentedly as you held his dick up to your entrance and sank down onto him until he bottomed out. Jin crinkled his eyes shut focusing on the feeling of you around him. He struggled to keep his breath even, not wanting to alert the staff about what was going on, but god damn you felt so good that it was proving difficult already.

You noticed how fucked out he was already and knew he wouldn’t last long at all, which was perfect for you because you were really only looking for one thing.

You began swaying your hips carefully, testing the waters to see what was enjoyable for him and what was painful. Soon you were bouncing on him up and down, determined to get him to cum. Jin gave up on being quiet, letting himself moan and grunt the more you humped him. Your hand held up the fabric of your gown above your belly, letting him get a full view of you fucking him. You smirked, thinking about how mad Jin will be when he regains his memory only to realize you finally gave him a round two, but only when he had amnesia.

Suddenly, the boy took hold of your hips and held them still, a burning look in his eyes.

“Did I hurt you? I’m sorr—”

“No, just. Stop, for a second. You’re…going to be my wife. But this feels like our first time for me so, I don’t want to rush through it.” Your heart stuttered and a lump formed in your throat, not that you wanted to say anything anyway. You’d never seen him so vulnerable and tender before. Suddenly you felt guilty for lying to him, but nonetheless you let him pull you into his chest for a kiss.

It was sweet and slow. You hesitated at first, letting him part your lips and press them into yours. You closed your eyes, your heart thrumming a mile a minute as you kissed him back. He held you by the waist as his fingers rubbed at your sides. They snuck underneath your gown and began exploring your body, first feeling the curves of your waist then sliding up towards your breasts. You looked away from him, blushing furiously as his tiny touches sent shivers down your spine. To be this intimate and romantic with Seokjin was proving to be too much for you. Yet as his hands traveled around your back and downwards, giving your ass a healthy squeeze, your walls couldn’t help closing in around him. He moaned at the motion, looking up at you in time to receive your hungry lips on his once more. He brought his hands up to your face, holding it close to his own as you two made out passionately.

Your mind raced as your tongues swirled around in each other’s mouths. Kissing him felt foreign, but in a good way. Although you already knew what his dick felt like inside of you, you’d never known what his mouth on yours felt like until now. It was weird to think about who exactly was kissing you, yet not too weird, since you’d been around each other for so long now that his scent filling your nostrils was comforting instead of revolting. It was like learning something you had forgotten about. You were surprised to find how much you had actually liked it.

It wasn’t long before Jin began groaning into the kiss, feeling how wet you suddenly were and how easily he was moving inside of you without fully moving his hips. You bit your lip, feeling needier than ever with the lack of movement.

Suddenly you sat up a bit to begin bouncing again, but he grabbed you by the neck, biting his own lip as he surveyed your body. You were driving him absolutely wild and we wanted nothing more than to fuck you into the bed. But he knew he couldn’t move much for now, so he settled for fucking up into you as best he could.

Jin’s hand moved into your hair, grabbing it like a ponytail and tugging on it roughly so that more of your neck was exposed. His other hand gripped at your waist, holding you up as he began bucking his hips up into you. The combination of his tight hold on your hair and his forceful thrusts had you feeling the beginnings of an orgasm.

Your hands found his arms and held on for dear life as your walls began contracting around his cock. Sinful sounds filled the room as you lost your ability to keep quiet. His impressive length was hitting your g spot in the most delicious way and it had you keeling over him when your orgasm hit like a ton of bricks. You tightened your legs on his sides, shutting your eyes yet still seeing stars. Jin was satisfied with seeing you cum since he was already so tired that he couldn’t hold back his own climax for much longer.

“Fuck, where should I cum?” Jin spoke through gritted teeth, letting go of your hair in favor of holding your waist with both hands.

You leaned over him and kissed him deeply, then leaned in further to whisper in his ear. “Cum inside.”

Jin’s eyes rolled to the back of his head and your wish was his command. He found it so incredibly hot that he was already spilling his seed into you after a few more strokes. He grunted loudly, bucking up into you a few more times before settling down in a sweat. You sat on top of him for a few moments more, catching your breaths in unison.

The boy was spent, barely having enough energy to cover himself back up. He ended up drifting to sleep when you climbed off of him, which was better for you, since you didn’t want to have to pretend to be in love with him.

You hummed as you slowly made your way over to your bed, fetching a magazine before you climbed onto the mattress and laid down on your back. You propped your feet up on the windowsill and began flipping through the glossy decorated pages, imagining that this position would definitely increase your odds of getting pregnant.

It wasn’t until the chill of October had set in that you found yourself in your hometown again.

You had missed Namjoon terribly while you were away recovering that visiting his house was the very first thing you wanted to do. You needed to see him desperately, to see if he missed you as much as you did him, and to see if he was worried sick that you had been missing for months. You’d never gotten a chance to tell him about the baby, so you were hoping he’d have a positive reaction when he saw you now. You knew he’d always wanted to be a dad, and you wanted to be the one to give him that joy, no matter what.

You walked the few blocks from your house to his, taking in the neighborhood as you did so. Even with the drastic change in temperature since you were last here, it was as if nothing had changed. Yet you couldn’t help but feel wholly changed on the inside. You’d realized just how precious life was while you laid in that hospital bed, and you didn’t want to waste another minute not being with the man you had pined over for years.

As his house came into view, you instantly knew he wasn’t home. His car wasn’t in the driveway and his lights were off. Nonetheless you knocked on the front door, waiting a few minutes before descending his front porch in disappointment. You wondered if he was at work, though you didn’t think so given the time and the day.

As you pondered on where to go next, a small red ball bounced against your foot. You bent down to pick it up, only to make eye contact with a small girl that had come running up to you. She had gorgeous tan skin and dimples with sparkling curious eyes.

“Sowwy…”

You smiled at the shy toddler, placing the ball into her tiny outstretched hands. “What’s your name?”

“My mommy says not to tawk to stwangers.”

Just then, a smiling blonde woman comes into view, rubbing the head of the toddler who hugged her leg and shielded her body from you. You looked up at her questioning eyes.

“Sorry! I always tell her not to play with her ball so close to the sidewalk!” You giggle, shaking your head to let her know the girl wasn’t bothering you. You can’t help but rake in her figure, lingering on her mid-section.

“How far along are you, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Ah,” the woman rubs her belly absentmindedly, “just 3 months! It’s been so hectic, nothing like the easy pregnancy I had with this little one.” She pinched the cheek of her daughter, and you don’t miss the way the girl’s almond eyes turn into crescent moons when she smiles at the comment she undoubtedly doesn’t understand.

“No kidding, I’m actually 5 months along myself!” The woman’s eyebrows shoot up.

“Oh, congratulations! How are you liking it so far?”

“It’s not my first, but I absolutely love it. I feel like I’m glowing from the inside out.” The woman smiled, trying to contain her surprise given how young you looked. She followed your eyes as you glanced at Namjoon’s house for a second before turning back to her.

“Oh, you were looking for Namjoon? I think he went out to buy some supplies. Are you a friend of his or…” You furrowed your brow, a bad feeling in the pit of your stomach forming as you observed the slightly possessive tone in her voice. “I just, always used to see you around here, so I was wondering…”

You smiled brightly at the woman, watching her follow your hand on your stomach with her eyes. “Oh, it’s okay! He’s my boyfriend, but he’ll probably be a lot more than that now…” You smiled to yourself, looking down at your feet with satisfaction.

“Of course…” Yong tried her best to sound nonchalant, but you caught the way her voice sounded dejected, and she was suddenly looking everywhere else but at you. You looked down at her daughter, feeling a small seed of annoyance growing inside you.

“What’s your name, again?”

“Yongsun.”

“Yongsun,” You let the name hang in the air while you turned it over in your head. It left a bad taste in your mouth, “if it’s not too much trouble, can I bother you for a glass of water? The walk over here tired me out.” You both laughed half-heartedly, neither of you caring to feign friendship for much longer.

“Sure. C’mon, let’s get the nice lady something to drink!” Yong lifted her daughter onto her hip and began walking towards her home. You followed closely behind, hoping to find the answers you needed without having to engage in any more nauseating small talk.

You took in her quaint home with children’s toys strewn all about. The child ran to her play pen while the woman busied herself with finding a clean glass, leaving you with enough privacy to ogle at the pictures hanging on the wall.

You looked at a few of Yong and her daughter at the park before stopping at a family portrait that seemed to have been taken when the woman’s daughter was only a few months old. The man holding her, whom you presumed to be the woman’s husband, looked nothing like the kid.

Your mouth twisted in disgust, and you stomped out of her house before she could come back and shove her triumph over Namjoon in your face some more.

You hated her, and you hated him, and you hated their perfect little kid and their perfect little neighborly romance seeped in infidelity. You hated that you weren’t her, and you hated that he made you want to be someone other than yourself.

The annoyance you had felt when you had first laid eyes on the child had boiled into a violent rage that you couldn’t contain once you got home. You ran into your room and slammed the door, looking around for something to break. You started with the posters on the walls, tearing them down impatiently. The sounds of ripping paper made you feel better, but it still wasn’t enough, you needed more. Suddenly your hand flew across your dresser and knocked down all of your products. You shoved your lamp onto the floor too, panting and looking around wildly.

Your influx of emotions and memories brought on a headache that had you stumbling back onto your bed. You clutched at the sides of your face, balling your shaking fists as a haunting scene played inside your head like a movie. You saw her hair, flowing in the cold water, and her alabaster skin glowing in the dark. Her limbs were stiff, and her eyes were still open in the water, yet it seemed as if they still had enough life in them to stare at you accusingly. Her finger pointed in your direction as if to say you’re next.

Suddenly you saw yourself screaming silently, trekking up the side of the mountain in wet clothing, hiding in fear from your friends, walking aimlessly through the woods, trying to get home because you felt unsafe. You remembered desperately trying to put as much distance between yourself and them as possible because you needed you and your baby to live.

Now you hated them, too. They did this to you and Namjoon. They tried to drive a wedge in between you two. Maybe they were jealous. Maybe…

Maybe that’s why Namjoon was in love with someone who wasn’t you, because of them.

You punched your mattress repeatedly, feeling betrayed by the people you had called your friends for years. You tried to calm yourself down, knowing that negative emotions could negatively impact the fetus, but you suddenly felt anxious. You wanted to know why, why they would do something like this to you. You needed to see Namjoon. You needed to tell him everything and get answers from those bastards.

Suddenly, nearby giggling caught your attention for a brief moment. The sound came from outside your window. You lifted it up and peeked your head out only to find your block littered with costumed partygoers and children trick or treating.

You’d forgotten it was even a holiday today. Your favorite holiday, in fact, only because Hoseok would always throw great Halloween parties in which you’d all coordinate silly costumes.

You went into your closet and shoved hangers aside until you pulled out your old Snow White costume that would match the boys’ dwarves costumes. You tossed it aside, searching for your old go-to costume. After some rummaging in the very back, you pulled out the wrinkled black dress that you always used to wear every year. It was a nun costume, and it seemed oddly fitting for what you suddenly had planned for tonight.

You busied yourself with finding the mask that went along with it as well as a small blade you always kept handy, in case of emergencies.

The party was already out of hand by the time you arrived. More people than you’d ever seen at any of the boys’ parties were littered all throughout, crowding the hallways and even spilling out into the backyard. It was truly a sight to see, an army of goblins and ghouls and slutty princesses all congregated in a mundane family home.

You made your way through the crowds of people, shimmying and tip toeing along as you tried to spot anyone you recognized, which was already hard enough since everyone was in a costume.

But it didn’t take you long to spot the boys sitting around in the living room. Some had girls on their laps or beside them while others stood near them to listen to Yoongi’s story. They were all nursing almost-empty solo cups and their eyes were hazy with drunkenness. You shoved people aside and sat on the floor next to the man of the hour. He stopped to look at you for a second, no doubt measuring your suitability to be his next conquest for the night, before continuing his story.

You recognized his tall tale at once, because it was your story.

“So, I take my headphones out, to see if it was some creepy track playing on my phone, and the singing continues!” Nearly everyone in the room stared wide-eyed while Yoongi paused to sip on his drink. “It’s right in my ear, up close, and the woman starts crying, and I mean sobbing!”

“No fucken way! Oh my god that’s terrifying!” The young girl standing closest to Yoongi rubs the goosebumps on her arms. She’s dressed as a slutty crayon, as if you hadn’t already had enough reasons to roll your eyes into the back of your head.

You’re thankful that you’re wearing a mask, however, to hide the stabbing looks you’re sending at Yoongi and the rest of the boys who are pretending to be hearing this story for the very first time. You hated them, you hated them so much.

After everything you had went through with these guys, you had ended up being reduced to an ice breaker in the end.

Suddenly, you felt a hand on your leg. It’s a soft yet determined touch, and your body instantly tenses up. You’re convinced it’s Jin, because you’d experienced this kind of thing with him so many times before, but you know it isn’t him. Still, you can’t help the way your head whips around to see who could possibly be hitting on the girl in the nun costume.

Your eyes meet a pair of disoriented doe eyes, and you realize a very drunk Jungkook is hitting on you. He shoots you a lazy crooked smile as his hand rides up on your thigh a bit. You withhold the urge to punch him as you let him feel you up a bit. You didn’t want to reveal yourself just yet. No, you wanted to exact your revenge in a way that would scar the same way you now were thanks to them.

You placed your hand over Jungkook’s and stood up, taking him with you. Without saying a word, you led him into one of the empty bedrooms in Hoseok’s house, all the while his friends whooped and hollered at the sight of their youngest friend finally getting laid at a party.

You shoved him into a room and walked in, closing the door behind you. He stumbled backwards and plopped down onto the bed, leaning back and spreading his legs while he watched you. You want so badly to wipe the cocky grin he’s wearing right off his face.

You stalk over to him, quickly climbing up on his lap. His smile grows impossibly wider, and he’s giddied at the feeling of your hands on his chest pushing him down onto the bed. He seems different, cockier and more experienced, yet he’s still slightly nervous, you note, so you can tell the Jungkook you’ve always known is still inside this douchebag of a person somewhere. His heartbeat quickened as your hands slid lower on his body, and he searched for something to say to relieve some of the tension.

“So, you’re supposed to be, what, a nun?” The boy gulped as your hands found the bottom of your dress.

“No, actually, I’m a ghost.” Jungkook looked up at you questioningly, taking in your costume again to see if there was a detail he’d missed. You decided to help him out by taking your mask off.

His body stiffened under you and he grew pale as you sat on top of him, smiling at the way his lip quivered in fear.

You reached under your dress and pulled the blade from the spandex of your underwear, turning the sharp object over in your hand and observing it in the light of the room. Jungkook cussed under his breath as he began to hyperventilate slightly. You revel in his powerlessness, wanting him to feel the way you felt because of him, so you slowly press the blade against his throat, causing him to turn his gaze up at the ceiling while muttering shit shit shit as he did so.

“Where’s Namjoon?”

“I I I I I d-don’t know he—he never showed up. H-he might be a Y-yong’s house I I I don’t know.” Jungkook shut his eyes, making sure to keep still so that you didn’t accidentally nick his throat.

You grimace, not liking what he said one bit. The way her name slipped so casually from his mouth, they all knew about her and never said anything to you. You must’ve looked like such an idiot. They probably pitied you, probably made fun of you behind your back.

Your hand at the boy’s throat began shaking, and you didn’t miss the way his fists ball up at his sides. Suddenly you turned your attention to him completely, knowing now what you had to do.

The boy was shaking underneath you, so you hummed soothingly, running your hand over his chest. You admired his body, taking note of the way his muscles protruded from the fabric. He had definitely filled out and bulked up when you weren’t paying attention to him. And he’d had such a crush on you, it was a shame he’d turned into a monster on the inside.

Your hand slid down his arm and picked up his wrist, slicing at his veins vertically for a few inches. He cried out in pain as blood began spurting everywhere. He moaned in agony, clutching at his wet arm and trying desperately to keep the wound covered with his hand.

“Kookie! Where the fuck is the beer we told you to go get an hour ago?” Hoseok’s voice chirped behind you, so you turned your head in time to see the boy bursting into the bedroom unannounced. He’d taken one quick look at you and averted his eyes. “Shit, sorry, didn’t think you were actually in here with someone.” He chuckled, stealing a look in your direction, and then another, until his eyes widened, and his mouth fell open. His eyes first caught the blood stains on the bed then flew up to meet your eyes. His breath caught in his throat when he finally saw who had stolen the attention of his friend.

“Y/N…w-what are you doing?” He stepped fully into the room, coming towards you slowly.

“Well, I was in the neighborhood so, I thought I’d stop by.” You regarded him warily, gripping the blade tighter the closer he got.

As soon as the boy took a few more steps, he finally caught view of the massive wound, and his expression crumpled painfully. “Jesus Christ Y/N. What did you do?! W-Why did you do this?”

The boy tried to swipe the weapon from your hand, but you moved it out of his reach then climbed off of Jungkook and held the blade up in front of you. “Don’t you dare fucking touch me.”

“Okay, okay. Please, let’s just, talk.” His eyes were full of fear and concern, trained on you though they wandered towards Jungkook and the blade you were holding.

“Why should I talk to you? I have no reason to trust any of you. You all lied to me for so long. I SAID BACK UP!” You swung the knife as soon as Hoseok took a step towards you, causing him to stop and hold his palms up toward you warily.

“Listen, you have a right to be upset, but if there were things we never told you, it was only to protect you!”

You scoffed, “To protect me? So chasing me around the forest to the point of miscarriage was for protection? This is all your fault.” You drew in a shaky breath as the boy stared at your belly concealed by the dress.

“Y/N you’re…” Hoseok sighed, becoming antsier the longer the conversation dragged on. Nonetheless, he took a deep breath and spoke in a calm manner, “when did you stop taking your medication?”

“No…”

“Y/N, we can help you, just…” Hoseok lunged for the knife again but you quickly swung and caught his palm, slicing a line across the center. He yelped in pain, keeling forward and holding his injured hand to his chest.

You bolted out of the room and away from the house in a hurry to see Namjoon. No, no no no!

You just needed to see him, and then everything would be fine again.

You made your way to Yong’s house in a daze. You passed by countless witches and caped vigilantes who were all impressed with your commitment to scare as they took in your bloodied appearance and soiled blade in your hand. Someone even took a picture of you, but you didn’t have it in you to engage with them. You just needed to get to Namjoon and see for yourself if he had moved on from what you two had.

It didn’t take you long to reach his neighbor’s house, since Namjoon lived only a couple blocks from Hoseok.

You observed the house from the outside. It was dark, most likely to discourage trick or treaters, but not you. You circled the house, jiggling doors and pulling at windows until you finally found a way in through the kitchen. Sliding into the dimly lit household, you stood still and became part of the quiet that surrounded you, holding even your breath to see if everyone was truly asleep. You didn’t hear a peep, so you began stalking around the first floor, checking ever door.

You had stumbled upon the bathroom and two closets before you let yourself into a child’s bedroom. The walls were lavender and the shaggy rug that lined the small room was a pale pink in the night. A night light shone all kinds of aquatic figures across the walls as the child slept soundly at the center of her princess bed. You walked slowly over to her and leaned across the small bed to get a look at her tiny face burrowed into her pillow. She was adorable, and the fact that she was Namjoon’s was more than enough reason to love her, but she wasn’t yours, and you hated that. You just couldn’t get past it, no matter how cute she was. You frowned and sighed, exiting the room quietly then stopping in the middle of the living room.

You turned to look at the staircase that led upstairs when it occurred to you that they might be upstairs, sharing a bed as two parents might. Your nostrils flared and your breath quickened as you made haste to climb up one stair at a time as quietly as possible.

At the third stair, you finally heard it, a small moan, followed by another and another. Each step you climbed made the sounds more pronounced until it was undeniably the sound of Yong getting pleasured in her bedroom. You pictured Namjoon’s sweaty back, her pale hands clawing at it, her legs wrapped around his waist. Suddenly you heard a small giggle, and you pictured him peppering small kisses on her face that made her ticklish.

You clutched the blade tightly, your entire figure trembling as you reached the second floor. How dare he move on when we’re supposed to be starting a life together!?

You stormed into the bedroom, knocking the door into the adjacent wall with a bang.

“HEY DADDY!” You rubbed your belly as you stared at the lumps under the sheets.

The blonde peaked her head out and screamed as her lover pulled out and fell back onto the bed, regarding you with terrified eyes. He muttered a curse under his breath as he regarded your ghastly appearance while absentmindedly making sure the sheets were covering his genitals.

He wasn’t Namjoon.

“Who the fuck are you and why are you in my house!?” Yong’s husband yelled, looking at his wife and furrowing his eyebrows when he noticed the look of recognition in her eyes.

You rolled your eyes, ignoring his outburst and focusing on her. Her hands shook as they covered her breasts, her gaze wavering.

“Where is he?”

“H-he’s p-probably at the park right now. P-Please just leave. Please.” There was a different kind of fear in her eyes, and as you looked in between her and her husband, you decided to let him be the one to deliver her punishment for getting involved with Namjoon.

You exited their house as quickly as you came, walking in the direction of the park. You were tired, your anger from earlier morphing into desperation to find Namjoon and tell him how you felt.

Part of you wanted to give up and give into your defeated emotions, but you convinced yourself to focus on one step at a time, and on what you would say to him once you finally laid eyes on him.

You only thought of a few things to say before you saw him, sitting alone by the swing set. He was staring down at his feet in deep thought, so much so that he had barely registered you walking towards him. He was sad, too sad to give you a proper greeting, yet somehow his lack of reaction to seeing you hadn’t surprised you.

You decided to sit in the empty swing that hung parallel to his, kicking your feet into the gravel as you swung yourself gently with the little strength you had left.

“I keep asking myself, why didn’t she pick me, but I keep coming up short.” He sighed and buried his head in his hands dejectedly.

When you speak, the sound is so gentle it surprises even you.

“Why does it have to be her? Namjoon, I’d pick you a thousand times over.” You threw your head back and laughed lightly, looking up at the stars above, “In every life, I’d pick you. If I lived as many lives as there are specs in the night sky, it wouldn’t matter. You would always be the one.”

He shot you a melancholic smile, turning to you to take in your appearance for the first time. His gaze wandered from your far off gaze to your hands, noticing the bloodied blade and the massive wound on your wrist that had painted your arm red by now. He frowned, looking into your fading eyes. “Y/N…did you do this for me?” His voice was dripping in pain as you slumped against the chain.

“Namjoon,” You took a moment to draw in a breath but found it harder to find the strength to get your last few words out, “I’d choose you every time, no matter what. So, choose me, just please choose me this one time.”

“I did. I did choose you.” He leaned over to pick you up from the swing and cradled you against his chest as he sat down on the dirt, brushing your hair out of your face with deep sadness painting his features.

You laid against him, giving into the tiredness as you took in your fading surroundings. You looked down at your bloodied arm, seeing the wound for the first time. You brought your hand to your stomach, unable to feel the belly you had been caressing for months. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, until you looked up into the eyes that were crying over you. Jin’s beautiful face was crumpled, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

You brought your hand up weakly to caress his wet cheek. He took your hand in his and squeezed it as you gave him a tired smile. With the peace that overtook you came the answers you had been searching for all along.

You’d had it wrong all along. It was you that hadn’t chosen the right one.

Seokjin held your lifeless body close to him as he wept. He had never felt like more of a child than he had now. He had failed you continuously because he was afraid. You made him want to be brave, but when it mattered the most, he still chose to let you save him instead. As he wiped the tears from his face, he was determined to hang onto the life preserver you had unknowingly offered him.

Jin only allowed himself a few moments to grieve you before he forced himself to put you down and walk away. He knew it was only a matter of time before Namjoon would show up.

Without a backwards glance, the disoriented boy made his way to Hoseok’s house in search of the people that would deem this all worth something.

He was covered in your blood, but everyone he had passed mistook his appearance to be a lazy last-minute costume.

As he crossed the street, his mind wandered back to that fateful night in the dead of summer. He recalled what his friends did to him when he confessed to having let you escape. He could still feel the relentless blows to his body as they took turns beating him nearly half to death. Some punches and kicks were softer than others, but they didn’t stop until he was within an inch of his life. They left him for dead by the lake before going to search for you. He knew they avoided killing him on purpose, which is why he called Jungkook as soon as his memory returned. It was something they did whenever they suspected a member of betraying them, as a form of re-initiation. If you somehow survived, then you deserved a second chance.

Jin wasn’t sure he wanted the second chance, but he felt as if he didn’t have a choice if he wanted to return to life as he knew it back home.

Jungkook had gone the easiest on him, so he felt safe calling him first. He had expected the relief that flooded the younger one’s tone when he heard Jin’s voice on the other end. But what he didn’t expect, were the conditions attached to his return. After Jungkook confided in Namjoon, they decided not to make things easy for him, since he’d deliberately backstabbed them all.

He was only allowed to return home if he finished what they had started that fateful night.

Jin let himself into Hoseok’s house, dragging his feet as he made his way to the living room. The party had thinned out, but the guys remained on the couches as they nursed their drinks and waited for his arrival.

He had expected them to be in their dwarves costumes as they always were every year, but he hadn’t expected someone else to be in your Snow White costume, at least not so soon.

The bubbly princess sat on Jungkook’s lap, staring at him in adoration while he checked his phone in pure boredom.

As Jin came into view, the maknae of the group looked up and smiled serenly, something shifting in his gaze. Jin simply stared back, resisting the shiver that threatened to rack his frame at his resemblance to Namjoon in that moment.

“Did you take care of it?” The boy put his phone away as the rest of his friends turned their attention to Jin, some looking impressed while others looked skeptical.

The tall brunette smiled back at Jungkook in pure irony. He realized the evil he had vowed to dismantle from the inside could never truly be abolished, it would simply take on a new form to survive.

He was a fool for thinking he’d ever be able to win. So, he vowed instead to honor your life by preserving his own.

“Yeah, it’s done.”

[prongsmydeer]

Ayesha Liveblogs Oh My Ghost (2018) Ep. 1-8

As a precursor to the mildly harrowing journey I’m about to take you on, you should know that I initially liveblogged this in a Discord chat, so what I liveblogged is purposely not emphasizing some of the stranger elements of this show. Anyway, I thought, well why not have this fever dream live on my blog too. Spoilers ahead, but as I’ve said: it’s not that I recommend this show, but I did watch the whole thing

This woman is chanting at a rooftop altar in a lightning storm so I'm guessing she's responsible for the horny ghost

Just as I was pondering the fact that this is the only piece of Thai media I have consumed in which the main characters are not, to my knowledge, mlm or wlw, the next three characters to appear on screen were all gay (I do think they're just bit roles and not important characters but it was funny timing)

Update: God this is the second show premised upon Magical Virginity set in Asia I've seen in the past few months; r u ok Thailand and Japan

In an ironic twist of fate, she can't go to the afterlife unless she has sex with someone.... as a ghost????

I don't care for most of the chefs in this kitchen; both the sous-chef and executive chef seem to physically intimidate staff below them 

In more fun news Jiw, the shy main character, seems to see all sorts of dead people, since she is currently being haunted by spectres other than Horny Ghost, who has not yet met her

Grandma's explanation for why Jiw sees ghosts is that it's hereditary

UNBELIEVABLE SOMEONE HAS REFERRED TO HER AS A HORNY GHOST ON SCREEN

I'm oddly endeared by this sudden auto-rickshaw-chasing-a-taxi shenanigan, makes me miss India a little

“The onIy thing I can’t let go now is just that” It appears that the fact her virginity is relevant not because it's part of some greater Thai ghost lore, but because she specifically really wants to have sex but died before she could. The Horny Ghost Title prevails

It has been implied that Sun the Executive Chef may somehow be one of the 1-in-ten-million-men who could withstand having sex with a ghost, I now understand the trajectory of this show

“If one day you happen to possess someone who has exactly the same frequency as you, you will never be able to leave that body” The heavy-handed exposition is great

Reasons I Do Not Trust Sun the Executive Chef: 

1) He seems p harsh with his staff

2) He was rude to his mum

3) He doesn't like rice!!!! Who do u think u are!!! Gluten-intolerant???

Oh my goooood, I think Win the Handsome Restaurant Staff Who Studied Abroad (who I have been rooting for since he was introduced purely because he's handsome) might be Jiw's love interest hkjhgkjhgkhg

It might be a love square!!! Jiw and Win falling for each other while Horny Ghost tries to get with Sun the Executive Chef

“You know why I don’t like you?” SUN YOU ARE HER EMPLOYER!!!

He's right but he's rude 😔:

“A woman shouldn’t have scars on her hands” The context of this comment is that Jiw has just spilled hot soup on her hands kjhfkhfjhf sorry Sun, femininity isn't flame-retardant

Sun's tragic backstory is that he was also once a crybaby who apologized too much

Though in fairness to Jiw, if I were seeing ghosts and had this kind of work culture, I'd be stressed out too 

Jury's still out on Sun; I do like Sun's sister and her husband, they both seem very nice so far

I'm confused by the fact that Jiw's landlord seems to barge into her place anytime he wants??? Also he's threatening her to evict her for her Ghost-Be-Gone-Rituals   

The first actual hint of romance: Sun is commenting on Jiw's food blog, which he doesn't know belongs to her, bc he thinks her recipe and passion for cooking is nice

KUHHGDKJHGKJDHGKJHSJDKHG Horny Ghost has now possessed Jiw and has just THROWN SUN TO THE GROUND for trying to root through her purse for the storage room key

My guess is that the Horny Ghost will try to get with Sun the Executive Chef, while inhabiting Jiw’s body Greed-from-FMAB-style

Ep 2: Horny Ghost is attempting to figure out what Jiw's job is in this restaurant while still impersonating/possessing her

Barely ten minutes in and she has already challenged the sous-chef to a fight

Horny Ghost’s only priorities are fucking and fighting

God it's so hard get through this show it's too embarrassing

POOR JIWWWWWW SHE DOES NOT DESERVE TO HAVE THIS PERSON IN CHARGE OF HER BODY JGHKJHG

Jiw has been saved from further embarrassment because Sun has been taken into the police station. Bc he firmly escorted a food blogger out of his restaurant in ep 1 for yelling at his staff and now she's filing false charges against him. Whack

Why is there a shower in the back of this restaurant??? I was willing to accept the lockers for their stuff but the shower perplexes me. Was this building formerly a gym??

And yeah I don't know if I'll make it through this whole show bc I have to pause every minute or two to be embarrassed

TOOK 1 MINUTE FOR JIW TO SHOW UP IN THE SHOWER

I feel all of these emotions

Horny Ghost!Jiw is taking Handsome Study-Abroad Win on a date; I feel bad for both Jiw and Win bc I think they have a vibe going on hgkjhgjh

Executive Chef Sun is solving his B Plot problems by leaving fake positive reviews about his own restaurant

Sun is mad at his mom for settling his legal dispute bc she wasn't there when he was a Sad Little Rich Boy (Now he is simply a Mad Tall Rich Man)

I keep forgetting that the Sous Chef's name is Rain; hgkjhgkjhg I wonder if Sun hired him for the comedy of it

Oh with added context Sun and his mom had a rough go of it actually, she had him young and sent his sister to live with their aunt and kind of really did leave Sun to fend for himself

SUN MADE A FRIEND

Sun's mom and Horny Ghost's Nemesis (Auntie Pu) are hanging out bc Sun's mom is very superstitious

Also dear god these episodes are each an hour long???

An earlier sidenote: There was a scene where Auntie Pu seemed to be heckled by God for her inability to catch Horny Ghost

Executive Chef Sun is now shooting a cooking competition and Rain has been thrown out by security so I'm guessing that Sun and Horny Ghost will be ✨ live ✨ on ✨ television ✨

So the theme of the cooking competition is Mom's Home Cooking and they've mentioned like 3 times that Sun's mom never cooked anything for him

I know this is supposed to be a sad moment for Sun but I'm cracking up bc he reacted like he'd just been shot kghkjgh

Horny Ghost is helppppppppppppppppping!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Oh noooooooo the sad old man restaurant owner having a hard time with his business who they occasionally cut to is Horny Ghost's dad, it seems!!

You know, ironically even though the other Thai media I've watched has been set mostly coming of age/university stories, this is the first thing aside from Love of Siam that has  put such emphasis on the parents. Most other media has been ‘1-2 parent scenes in the whole thing is enough’

HORNY GHOST HAS REGAINED SOME OF HER MEMORIES AND NOW HAS A NAME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HER DAD CALLS HER 'KAOPOON'

Awww Dad's Restaurant used to be so bustling with life when Kaopoon was still alive 💔

Kaopoon's obnoxious personality really suited her old life!!

What an unexpected turn towards sincerity and emotional depth

In more light-hearted news, Sun is still vain as hell 

Also shout-out to Thailand for the adult orthodontics representation kjhkgjh I noticed this in 2gether as well, it seems a p common thing

Kaopoon has made the bold choice of hanging out of with her dad and snooping through her old room. I can only imagine this will lead to a fight with her brother, bc she has Jiw's face

OH MY GOD KAOPOON HAS BEEN STEALING FROM SUN'S RESTAURANT TO GIVE STUFF TO HER DAD'S RESTAURANT KJHFKHGK

Another ongoing subplot mildly stressing me out: Sun's sister Nam is married to a policeman and it turns out that Kaopoon used to have a crush on him when she was alive and I'm like DON'T FLIRT WITH HIM IN JIW'S BODY PLEASE DON'T NAM IS HER FRIEND

Sous Chef Rain is being a real bro to Horny Ghost Kaopoon and saying “We should all be held responsible so we don't lose our trust in each other” to which Executive Chef Sun says “that makes you a thief,” bc being rich makes u lose empathy I guess lmao

🎶 This is I why do not trust the Bourgeoisie 🎶

Executive Chef Sun is now expressing his regret for firing his Sous Chef to his dog, who, while doing nothing but eat, has stolen the scene and any of my sympathy

Whoops Horny Ghost's brother is about to reveal her Restaurant Crimes to her boss, I'm pretty sure

I hate that Horny Ghost's brother keeps insinuating that Horny Ghost/Jiw is seeking a “sugar d*ddy” or flirting like can't people just be nice jghjkg? I hope that Sun realizes now that family or not, she was being kind, not stealing for self-gain

This is so fucking funny Sun found out about Jiw/Horny Ghost's restaurant crimes, seemingly forgave her on the spot for no good reason, and hired Sous Chef Rain back only for the rest of the restaurant staff to immediately begin muttering about how much they hated Rain hahaha

I'm beginning to think Sous Chef Rain has a weird passive-aggressive crush on Executive Chef Sun. I would support it only bc I find them both exhausting and the comedy of two people named Sun and Rain falling in love is great

Rain: We have a strong bond. Stronger than friends, family or brothers. Sun, and also me: 👀🤔

“I helped you fix things with Rain,” said Horny Ghost Kaopoon, as if she had not also been one of several sources of conflict at her restaurant. (Also this dialogue is part of her drunkenly coming onto Sun.. which is quite something to watch)

Study-Aboard Win Who Probably Has Feelings for Real Jiw to the rescue

God, who has the mental strength to get through show all at once? Really and genuinely every time this show gives me a false sense of normalcy they do something embarrassing dhfjhfjk where is the pay-off? Where is the romance??

Sun's childhood friend Ida  who seems to have a crush on him tried to invite him up to her apartment [Tiktok voice "I wanna ruin our friendship"] but he said nah so now he's standing in the rain thinking about their history

First of all, sir, you are 30, so I don’t see the point of trying to pretend the same actor makes sense in a school uniform. Second of all, is wearing glasses and having bangs all that it takes to make you unpopular? What kinda She's All That nonsense??

Sun's argument for denying the booty call is that they should've dated in university but now they've missed their moment

Horny Ghost has just found out her Cop Crush is married (to Sun's sister) and Sun has just rejected himself from the Friendship Booty Call, so I wonder if they're going to have Sad Sex in the Rain

Update: No one is having sex in the rain but Horny Ghost Kaopoon has just been kicked out of her apartment and is now going to sleep in the restaurant I guess, this should end well

Sun definitely has a weird crush on Horny Ghost bc he keeps letting her get away with all kinds of shit kjhgkhgkgh she has punched him, stole from him, come onto him strongly, and snuck into the restaurant at night and she's just like “~~please chef 🥺” and he's like “FINE 😤😊 you can do whatever I guess”

That said despite taking it fine he did not let her stay the night at the restaurant so I guess that's the one thing she's not allowed to do jghkhgg 

Uhhhhhh it seems like the Cop Crush is reciprocated???????? Kaopoon/Jiw was like “You must love her a lot” and he was like “who” ABOUT HIS WIFE!!!

Sun has gotten caught up with Jealousy Antics towards Childhood Friend Ida and now Kaopoon is attempting to blackmail him to let her stay at the restaurant lmaooo

Okay Win his definitely in love with ONE of the two (Sun or Jiw/Kaopoon) bc Jiw/Kaopoon slept in the restaurant and everyone's like “Oooooh Chef and Jiw got lucky last night” and they had a lingering shot of Win looking longingly in their direction

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH Sun just kissed Jiw/Kaopoon bc of a fever-induced hallucination I bet u $85 that Ida is about to walk in

Kaopoon has confirmed that Sun is Ghost-fucking Proof and now she's 100% Mission Sleep with My Possessee's Boss Before I Get Turned Into an Evil Spirit in Two Months

She just straight up asked him, “Will you do it with me? Just once?”

Sun, emotionally, at this particular moment: [Donkey Kong meme]

(As an aside I really wish Kaopoon were not up in everyone's grill romantic advance-wise this is straight up worse than an anime in that sense)

Oh my god is this how they actually become friends?????? By her chasing him around asking him to fuck and him going “NO” and then physically rolling her away from him

I DON'T UNDERSTAND YOUR DYNAMIC!!!!!!!! WHY IS THIS WEIRD FUCK-PROPOSITION MONTAGE SET TO SUCH PEPPY MUSIC

I have now pivoted and I think Cop Crush may have murdered Kaopoon???????? Auntie Pu (Horny Ghost Kaopoon's Nemesis) just said his identity was death and suspicious music played

OH MY GOD FOR SOME REASON SUN UNPLUGGING HIS PHONE CHARGER HAD THE COSMIC EFFECT OF REMOVING HORNY GHOST FROM JIW'S BODY???? WHAT!! WHAT!!!!!!!!

Every time I think "that's it, I'm done with this" they keep pulling me back in!!!

DGhfjdkjk?!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! They just made Cop Crush run over an unhoused man's recycling??? I guess to establish that we shouldn't trust him??? What is the writing on this show!!

Dkjhgsdkjhgkjh a Canadian character has appeared for some wonderfully stilted English dialogue:

Sun: How's Canada sir?

Canadian Ambassador: Canada was very cold, but it's good to be back

Sun: It sounds like fun anyway!

CA: It is! It's always fun!

Sun: Ok!

JIW HAS ACCIDENTALLY SET FIRE TO THE BACK OF THE RESTAURANT AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

I figure if I power through the show the psychic damage will be shorter term

Also I think Sun has accosted Real Jiw for a psychiatric evaluation bc of her reasonably erratic behaviour

To add to the layers of this show, Jiw and Sun are back to interacting via her recipe blog and he's all like “wow this internet gal is my soulmate 😍“ like the dumbass he is 

Not to detract from internet relationships or anything, but they've exchanged ONE comment

They're having at least a minute long back and forth of cutting to these two staring stupidly into the distance thinking about each other

Kaopoon's father seems to have alcohol poisoning and Cop Crush just left him in the back storage closet on the ground????????????? Heavy-handed murder foreshadowing I think

Kaopoon saved her dad by possessing Jiw again; as much as I understand why she did it I really do feel bad for Jiw bc Kaopoon keeps living her life for her, you know? Seems unkind

Sun just offered to train Jiw/Kaopoon to be a chef (which Jiw really would want to do) but will Jiw be present for it? Hard to say!

SURE YOU WERE LIEUTENANT MURDER

It's been narratively established that Jiw does not remember what happens while she's been possessed so it makes the possessions that much sadder. Particularly since everyone but Win seems to like Kaopoon better

Bc this show needs at least four dramatic plots per episode, Sun has invited his childhood bullies to his restaurant to mock them passive-aggressively with his wealth

The bullies are like: Hey Sun, your childhood trauma's really harshing the vibe

Sun found out his Main Bully (Big) is really not doing well income-wise and now he feels slightly bad for mocking him with his wealth

Clearly Sun has not caught onto the Horny Ghost Situation

Oh my GOD “I spring up every time you talk horny because I’m scared of your words” Sun really said: ‘Well mark me down as a scared AND horny’

Auntie Pu whacked Horny Ghost out of Jiw on the way to their Spring Roll Not-Date so Jiw will finally get to experience some chef stuff with Sun

Sun, despite his reservations, seems to have a crush on all of Jiw's various personalities

He's playing guitar for Jiw through their shared apartment wall just bc she stopped on the street bc she saw a guitar player 🥺❤️

Real Jiw really likes him!! This is the Thai Jamie Oliver bullshit I signed up for

SCREAM he's trying to take Real Jiw on a bike ride kjhgkjhgkh what a quit pivot from his standoffishness to “I will be involved in every aspect of your life”

This biking day concluded in a way I could not have possibly predicted which was, as an interruption to their flirting, they had to high-speed foot chase a bicycle part thief, which they caught because Real Jiw BIT HIM on the leg

And Sun, because he is OUT OF HIS MIND, is just kinda like: “Love that for you babe 🥰”

OKAY SUN YOU MAY HAVE ONE (1) BOURGEOSIE PASS

The Jiw/Sun/Ida stuff finally comes to a head because Ida brought him a cake but Jiw and Sun are already sharing a cake (and restaurant-apartment building)

“Think of it as... helping a hungry policeman” EVERYTHING THIS MAN DOES IS SO FREAKING SUSPICIOUS

Somehow I don't think this is a reasonable request, Kaopoon

Things have escalated and now Auntie Pu, Kaopoon and Jiw are all on Team Sun Should Have Sex with Horny Ghost

I'm gonna power through as much of this show as I can at once so on it goes lol

I kind of understand Sun's "I'm not going to deal with this" way of approaching romance but man it sucks to be Ida who has tried to be pretty forthright with her feelings

So apparently Sun's sister Nam has not always had a wheelchair, she only had it starting three years ago, which is when Kaopoon died,,,,, did Cop Crush murder Kaopoon AND injure his wife,,,,, the stank vibes!!!

As weird as it is that Kaopoon and Jiw are working together to seduce Sun, it's exactly what I wanted and thought this show would be from the beginning

Win said all women are queens 😌❤️

Rain:  Why are you protecting [Jiw as Kaopoon]? Is she your girlfriend or something? 

 Win: Do I need to be her boyfriend to do that? Fine, I'll be her boyfriend then

Sun purposely did not give Win the prize in their Friendly Vacation Cooking Competition because he is jealous that Jiw and Win seem to be flirting; this man said my love language is Passive Aggression

They're going on yet another couple's bike ride (this time ft. Horny Ghost Jiw, which Sun simply canonically thinks is a product of mania, which is fair I guess)

Nam's friends are talking about the person who did a hit and run to Nam getting karmic justice while Lieutenant Murder sits there, probably the one that did it

Lieutenant Murder (formerly known as Cop Crush) just keyed his wife's friend's car because they need to establish that he is not only evil, but also a run-of-the-mill dick

Gsdkdhgkhgkh Kaopoon as Jiw has been trapped inside a storage crate by a tween girl who can see ghosts and u can this is set in Thailand (or Asia generally) bc they cut to this temp gauge like 10C is a really threatening temp. Girl it's chilly but you are fine!!

Sun said, "I am in love with all sides of Jiw, Aggressive Horny Ghost I Think Is Mania included"

[ckret2]

y’all can we spend a minute thinking about the logistics of celebrating Christmas in Hell

Dozens of posts I've seen cheerily discussing/writing/illustrating all the cute ways Hazbin Hotel characters would celebrate Christmas and absolutely zero have I noticed so far that mention the fact that characters who are literally in Hell would have a really really fucking complicated relationship with Christianity & Christmas.

Long examination of this under the cut. If the cut doesn’t work, blame tumblr, merry crimmus.

What if they're not even allowed to celebrate Christmas? We're told that Hazbin Hotel takes place in the America-ish portion of Hell, where the folks who die in the U.S. tend to plop down; nearly everyone there who's died in the last couple hundred odd years would be used to Christmas being a big public holiday as the default, even if how & how much it was celebrated has radically changed. Imagine going from Americanized Christmas Mania straight to Lucifer being like "EXCUSE me, you are NOT throwing a birthday party for my ex-boss's son, don't be stupid! That's not even when his birthday is?? By royal decree the next person who attempts to go caroling is getting a pine tree shoved up their ass, don't test me. I'll give you a better birthday to celebrate, it's called Charliemas and it's on June 6, you're welcome." What a shift, from oppressively aggressive Christmasing to Christmas itself being completely oppressed. Anybody who wants to celebrate Christmas would have to be really determined and really secretive.

What if he doesn't care, though? Even at that, everyone’s still going to have to heavily rethink their relationship with Christmas.

Like, no small part of the bargain at the base of Christianity is “if you worship this dude we say is God’s kid, do the things we tell you are good, and apologize very sincerely when you do the things we tell you are unacceptable, you get to go to heaven.” If you are a Christian in Hell—and, being in Hell, with Lucifer strutting around looking like he’s ready to lead a marching band, sort of implies that your religious belief was at least partially correct—then that means somebody didn’t hold up their bargain. Is it God & Jesus, not letting you into Heaven when you did everything you believe you were SUPPOSED to be doing? Or is it you: did you fail to be the good person you were supposed to be and/or did you misunderstand what the requirements were? Those are the only two options if you’re a Christian in Hell. Either Jesus failed you or you failed Jesus.

Say you went to Hell because you were a self-righteous hypocritical douchebag who violently misinterpreted the Bible to suit your own needs and confirm your own biases, and your Christianity is fanatical but predicated on the belief that it's shaped to accommodate you. You're probably going to be absolutely furious that you're in Hell. You might blame your position on The Bad People Whom Jesus Definitely Doesn't Love, if you can find a way to twist that logic around in your head—but then, seeing you weren't rewarded for your faith like you were promised, and now that you're in a place where there are no more future rewards promised to good little Christians maybe you turn your resentment against the faith itself and the figures worshipped by this faith. Maybe you have a personal grudge against Jesus Christ himself.

On the other hand, maybe you're still a cruel person but you genuinely do believe, in your heart of hearts, that your cruelty is in line and in service to Jesus. Or maybe you compartmentalize the parts of your life where you're hurtful and spiteful from the parts of your life where you're devout and loving. Maybe you are 100% zealous worshipper—but nevertheless, the second you realize you're in Hell, you know EXACTLY what you did to end up there, and you believe heart and soul that you deserve it. You still worship Jesus because you think it's good and right and he deserves it and he's still going to save the worthy... it's just that you aren't worthy.

And then there are the "doomsday cultists." Lots of times, when people are in a "the world will end on X date" doomsday cult and that day comes and goes with nothing happening, they don't realize they were wrong and go home—they double down on their beliefs. The psychological mechanism behind this is that basically, people in a cult like that have given up their lives, families, friends, jobs, everything to serve this cult; when it looks like they gave up everything for NOTHING, they go "I can't afford to be wrong, I gave up my entire life on this belief.” For a lot of Christians who end up in Hell, they’ll probably double down on their beliefs, too—telling themselves that they didn’t spend their lives following this religion just to fail and end up damned for all time. Maybe they’ll tell themselves that if they’re good enough Christians in Hell they’ll be forgiven and allowed upstairs. Maybe once they’ve tallied up enough goodness points, maybe during the second coming, whichever. Eventually.

Or say the criteria for getting into Heaven are actually incredibly strenuous and almost everybody goes to Hell—if you say "oh my god" one time then you took the Lord's name in vain, no take backs, no second chances, no repenting undoes it, you're damned for all time. (We know so little about what gets people damned in this series that that might well be the case, it all remains to be seen.) Most people might not even know what specifically they did to end up in Hell. Some of these confused people might just exist with a vague sense of guilt, some might resent the powers that be that sent them to the shittier afterlife for seemingly no reason.

So, conclusion: if you're Christian and you're in Hell? Being in Hell is going to force you to completely reevaluate your relationship with your faith—and you’ve gotta do all that reevaluating in in a place NOT designed for healthy self-reflecton and growth! The disillusioned bigots are going to be pissed off at Jesus, the guilt-stricken zealots are going to feel ashamed to face the concept of Jesus, the “doomsday cultists” are going to be twice as intensely Christian as they ever were in life. And then there are going to be all the normal non-extremists who have to grapple with the uneasy knowledge that if they’d done things right they wouldn’t be here but here they are and now they’ve got to redefine their beliefs—or perhaps abandon them—based on the knowledge that they’re now beyond Jesus’s salvation.

AND THEN JESUS’S BIRTHDAY ROLLS AROUND HAPPY FUCKING BIRTHDAY JESUS CHRIST OH MY GOD IT’S CHRISTMAS.

There are going to be riots started by the people who feel like they shouldn’t be in Hell and are righteously infuriated by the idea of celebrating the birth of the guy they personally blame for putting them there. There are going to be riots started by the people who think they need to be as religious as possible and go into a red haze at the sight of anyone who they think isn’t living up to those standards. There are going to be broken sobbing wrecks overcome with guilt and shame at this reminder of the dude they let down. So, you know... all the usual ways people have breakdowns around Christmas, except it’s everyone having them, and it’s ten times more intense.

Even the relatively normal, well-adjusted people are going to feel kind of uneasy trying to celebrate. Like, the fact that they’re in Hell means they’re permanently on God’s naughty list. Is it, like... inappropriate to celebrate the birthday of God’s son when you’re on God’s naughty list? Like is Jesus gonna be glaring down accusatorially at them for celebrating Christmas in Hell? Christmas is supposed to be jolly, are the damned allowed to be jolly?

What about the raised-culturally-Christian atheists in Hell who, before dying, celebrated Christmas because they always had, because their family did, because their friends did, and they decided long ago that it was nice to just keep going along with it for the tree and lights and food and gifts and general goodwill-toward-man feeling even if they didn’t believe in Jesus. Being in Hell, where actual honest-to-God angels swoop down once a year and actual Lucifer is married to actual Adam’s actual first girlfriend, kind of implies that all the things they didn’t believe in are at least partially true. (And for all we know somewhere off screen Lucifer is going “oh, yeah, Jesus, met him couple times, watched him do some miracles, he’s real, look I got a photo of him here”—so it might be confirmed-confirmed, not just strongly implied, in universe. We just don’t know yet how much of Christianity is gonna be canon to Hazbin.)

So suddenly Christmas can’t really be a Santa-and-reindeer “I leave out the Jesus stuff because I don’t believe in it” celebration, because hey what do you know it looks like the Jesus stuff was probably true, so what are the atheists gonna do? Are they going to be, like, super sheepish about celebrating Christmas? Do they have to decide grimacingly whether they’re gonna start doing nativity decorations instead of Santa decorations if all that nativity shit is actually historically accurate? They lived their lives not worshipping Jesus because they didn’t believe in him, does the fact that it seems like he really is real and really is the son of God mean they’ve got to start worshipping him now, or can they just... keep not doing that? Can they keep ignoring Jesus and focusing on Santa instead? Is it okay to keep celebrating Christmas without Christ if it turns out he’s real? Even if they decide that is what they’re gonna do, boy, they’re sure gonna have to put some thought into it first.

And that's not even including the possibility that not all the characters are Christian or raised-culturally-Christian. (I say "possibility" because we know so little about the logic/mechanics/rules behind the worldbuilding in Hazbin—for all we know, people in this setting are judged only by the standards of their own religions/cultures and go to their own religions'/cultures’ respective afterlives, making everyone we see in Hell either Christian or Christian-adjacent; if that turns out NOT to be the case, then ABSOLUTELY there are going to be characters of other faiths down there somewhere.) If there are people of other faiths down there can you imagine how fucking exhausting it would be to spend your entire life having Christmas shoved in your face, dying, going to an alarmingly Christian-looking hell, and these fuckers are still shoving Christmas in your face, like “holy shit y’all are in HELL jesus is not going to be your friend if you throw him a birthday party can you shut up about christmas for five minutes I’m so tired—”

What about the imps, the demons, the ones for whom Christmas is yet another foreign cultural artifact the silly little dead humans brought in with them, the ones for whom God and all his family have always been the enemy, the ones who predate Jesus Christ himself? What’s it gonna be like being a human-loving princess of hell who might adore the fur-trimmed red robes and the bright colorful lights but who knows that this is a celebration for the son/avatar of the guy who kicked her dad out of Heaven and annually sends down exterminators to slaughter her citizens? She’s not even Christian but would she not have the most complicated emotions of anyone if she attempted to celebrate Christmas?

And sure, there’s going to be some dead humans who just, celebrate Christmas because they’ve always celebrated Christmas even if they don’t consider themselves Christian specifically because they have never put an ounce of critical thought into it, the kind of people who unironically say “but EVERYONE celebrates Christmas”/“but Christmas is basically a secular holiday now” and genuinely believe it. You know—the people who do, like, zero self-examination of their culture and are completely oblivious to how much of their moral & ethical system and understanding of how religion works on a fundamental level comes from Christianity even if they do not literally believe in God and Jesus and thus don’t consider themselves actually Christian. Those people are going to be celebrating Christmas in Hell with just as much blithe self-unawareness as they ever celebrated it in life. And those people with their complete lack of deeper meditation on the implications of their own actions, going around cheerily wishing everyone a merry merry Christmas hey it’s coming up soon aren’t you excited of course you're excited everyone’s excited for Christmas there’s nobody that doesn’t celebrate Christmas—are going to be making things very uncomfortable for everyone else, including even a great many of the hardcore religious types who persisted celebrating in Hell. That tension is going to haunt them no matter how oblivious they are.

So, basically? Absolutely nobody in Hell is going to have a normal relationship with Christmas. Nobody. Nobody. Nobody. Christmas is a reminder that either you let down your God or your God let you down; or Christmas is a reminder that all the things you never believed in were actually true all along; or Christmas is a reminder you’ve been judged unworthy.

Every single candy cane, ugly holiday sweater, and wrapped gift is laden with an implicit reminder of eternal damnation.

Christmas is going to be a weird time.

It’s going to be an extremely fucking weird time.

Let’s mix a little of that theological existential horror into our Christmas headcanons, yeah?

[mythologyfolklore]

Ares and Athena through the years - Ch. 06

Chapter six: Grief and reconciliation

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The Olympians had now got a new member: Dionysos, the new god of wine, madness, theatre, parties, vegetation and the afterlife.

But it wasn't celebrated as much as it would have normally. The young god didn't mind; he knew why and he understood, that this was no time for a party.

They would have been thirteen now, but Hestia had given up her place in favour of him, thus they stayed twelve. Athena found, that the round looked kind of … incomplete without Hestia.

But her chair wasn't the only empty one.

Two other deities, who were still here, but hardly showed their faces these days, were leaving their places at the table vacant. Yet, when they did show up, they often killed the mood in the room, just by looking like the Algea¹ themselves. Zeus tolerated it, as he could relate to their grief.

Ares and Aphrodite looked strange in mourning attire.

Crushed, far less alive, mere shadows of their former selves.

Clad in black from head to toe, no jewellery or armour, they even were wearing ashes.

Aphrodite's lovely hair had been shorn, the way mortal women did, when mourning. It was odd to see the bright love goddess wear nothing but black. Her duties no longer delighted her, nor did the other Olympians ever hear her bell-like laughter these days.

Ares was neglecting his job entirely and never looked anything but weary, broken and defeated. He had dark rims under his eyes and always seemed close to either tears or a fit of anger. And he had taken to wearing a brooch with Harmonia's face engraved on it.

Dear, blameless Harmonia, Ares' and Aphrodite's beloved daughter and sunshine, who was gone, gone forever, who would never come back, who had forsaken divinity … who was dead.

It was still so hard to believe for everyone.

Goddesses didn't die.

Only once had Athena seen a goddess die: her first friend, whose name she had adopted to honour her. Except that Pallas had simply become one with Pontos² again.

She was, in a way, still there.

Not so Harmonia; she was really, truly dead and nothing would ever bring her back.

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Ares knew, that the rest of the family had trouble stomaching this too.

Even for him and Aphrodite it was hard to believe, and even harder, if not impossible, to bear.

My lovely daughter, my little sunshine, my joy and pride, my sweet child, she is gone, gone, she will never come back, she is dead, dead, dead-

Both parents had fallen silent.

They rarely spoke anymore and if they did, it was always about Harmonia. They didn't know how else to cope with their grief.

For their divine children it was the same.

Once they'd had a fight with their youngest sons Phobos and Deimos, who had confronted them and doubted, that if one of them would die, their parents would be remotely as affected. The fight had escalated into screaming, shattered earthenware and broken furniture, but had ended in tears and a group hug.

Ares could understand and relate to this, his children's worry, still he didn't want to hear such an accusation ever again.

There were moments, when the pain got too overwhelming, that Aphrodite would randomly burst into tears or wails and Ares would clench every muscle in his body, trying to suppress his emotions.

They both knew why things had come to this.

Ares had known before Aphrodite had.

The necklace … the necklace Hephaistos had once given Aphrodite (after their divorce, after the incident had happened), who in turn had given it to her daughter as a wedding gift.

That cursed piece of jewellery that, as Ares soon had found out, had been made with malicious intent.

Dionysos (this boy, who was both his half-brother, his nephew and his daughter's grandson, this god of madness, who had caused part of the trouble) had been the one to point it out.

And once Ares had actually taken a look at the necklace of Harmonia, it had dawned on him.

The necklace had been made by Hephaistos, obviously, but he had also recognised the handiwork of Eris, the baleful essence of her and her children. Whatever way the blacksmith had persuaded her and the Kakodaimones to help him was beyond Ares, but that wasn't the point. It was oozing with misfortune and woe.

And then he remembered overhearing a conversation between the smith and his new wife, Aglaia.

The thing was fucking cursed.

The maker had wanted her to suffer for her parents' crime.

My Harmonia, my child, he wanted her to suffer for something that was mine and Aphrodite's fault, he wanted to hurt her, because she reminded him of the incident.

The realisation had made Ares burst into dreadful laughter, terrifying every living being within a hundred mile radius.

Of course.

How could he ever have assumed, that his brother would possibly gift something to the daughter of Ares and Aphrodite, to the girl who had been conceived on that disgraceful day.

How could he ever have hoped that Hephaistos would forgive them?

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Of course Hephaistos hadn't forgiven them.

He hadn't forgiven Ares and Aphrodite for betraying him, so how could he have forgiven their daughter to come from it?

At first he had wanted to take his wrath out on them directly, but had quickly noticed, that they themselves left no opening for the curse to work (then again, Ares was friends with Eris and her brood of evil, so he was probably completely immune to their vibes).

Aphrodite giving the accursed necklace to her daughter had just been a stroke of luck; Harmonia, a third generation goddess with a mortal husband and children, had been a lot more vulnerable to the baleful curse of her wedding gift.

Deep down, the smith had felt sorry for his niece, even though under his friendly facade he had always loathed her for being spawned under such circumstances. Still there had been no denying, that she had been sweet and innocent and hadn't deserved to suffer.

Yet, his pity had been drowned out by the grim satisfaction of seeing her parents heartbroken over their daughter's misfortune and subsequent death.

Maybe one day he would regret, what he had done, but that day was yet to come. For now his heart was flint.

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As Athena followed Aglaia through the smithery, the Kharis seemed to be far more sober than usual.

“Approach him with care”, she warned the wisdom goddess, “He's in a really bad mood today.”

“I can imagine”, the taller woman muttered. “Don't worry. I can handle this, I know what to do.”

Aglaia nodded in acknowledgement, but whispered: “Alright. Just don't say their names. And don't mention the incident.”

She bowed courteously and saw herself out.

Athena took a deep breath, before going deeper into the workshop.

Don't say their names … that would be impossible, because she was here on their behalf.

“Hey, Athena. I know you and I hate each other, but can you do me a favour …?”

Once Ares had told her, she hadn't been able to refuse.

The blue-eyed goddess needed to look for a while, until she spied Hephaistos hunched over a desk, doing precision work. His face was stone and he was currently burning brightly, not bothering to keep his flames inside his body.

In a really bad mood, Aglaia had said – what an understatement! If the normally composed smith was on fire, that could only mean that he was on the verge of exploding!

It was only when his hands were free, that Athena knocked on the door frame to make herself known.

He turned his head.

Holy Khaos, if looks could kill even gods, she would have dropped dead on the spot!

“Your shield isn't done yet!”, he snapped at her and sparks fell out of his hair.

She swallowed her agitation and replied: “I'm not here because of that. I'm here, because someone asked me to give you a letter and didn't trust Hermes to do it.”

Hephaistos stared at her and his flames died down.

After muttering an apology for his rudeness, he pushed his wheelchair around the desk and offered her a stool.

“Do you want some nectar?”

“No, thank you. As I said, I'm only here because of the letter.”

The smith was obviously still extremely pissed off, but he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, before speaking.

“Athena, if this is a letter from Ares, give it back to him and tell him to shove it up his-”

“Listen to me!”, she interrupted him. “I didn't read this, but he came to me, even though he hates me, and asked me for help. So this has to be important!”

“… Fine.”

“When he gave me this, he mentioned another letter he sent you before.”

Hephaistos scowled and confirmed, that he had indeed received a letter – more than a millennium after the incident.

Athena lifted an eyebrow. “You didn't read it, did you? He suspected it too. Said, that this time he wants you to read it in my presence. I hate to admit it, but sometimes he does use the single-digit number of braincells he has.”

The smith snorted at the jab, but told her to wait here, rolled out of the room and came back with another, seemingly far older scroll of papyrus.

“You are both right, I didn't read it”, he admitted. “But for some reason I couldn't bring myself to burn it either.” A sigh. “After all, no one has ever gone through remotely as much trouble as to write me a letter.”

“Maybe you want to read that one first”, she proposed.

Hephaistos scowled down at the scroll in his lap. But after unrolling it, he blinked.

“Huh. The prick sure has clean handwriting.”

Oh. That really was unexpected. However, it didn't matter right now.

“What are you waiting for?”, Athena urged.

He puffed his cheeks. “I still don't see a point in reading it. It's probably something really offensive about me stealing his girl or some shit.”

She chuckled. Yes, that sounded like something Ares would have written after the incident.

“Well, can he make you any angrier than you already are at him?”

“I guess not.”

“Then read it anyway. And if it pisses you off, burn it. But at least you'll have read it.”

The blacksmith rolled his eyes, but gave in. “Alright.”

Clearing his throat, he began to read:

“Dear little brother,

since that golden net incident, you have never given me the chance to tell you, how I feel. And because you won't listen to me, I'm sending you this letter. I beg you, read all of it. When you've finished, you can burn it, if you want, just … hear me out …”

Athena looked over his shoulders, as he read it to her.

She was actually impressed.

Never ever would she have pinned Ares to write something even remotely as deep.

If she hadn't known better, she would have thought it was Aphrodite's hand – but it obviously wasn't; her writing was cursive and ornate, as opposed to Ares' clean, but plain hand.

Except that what he had written was so genuine and candid … alright, it was definitely Ares.

Hephaistos read everything, but his voice grew shakier with every paragraph.

By the end, he was full-on crying.

“Fucking arsehole!”, he choked and burned the letter in his hands, “First he gives me a lesson about love, rubs his relationship with Aphrodite in my face and then he tells me, that he loves me?! Of all the things he could have written, this …”

Gently Athena stroked his back, as he sobbed into his hands.

It took him a while to compose himself.

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The goddess of wisdom had left, after reading the second letter to him, as he had asked.

Hephaistos just needed some time alone.

He … he didn't know how to deal with this.

Everything was way too much and too confusing and he needed distance.

The other gods could wait for their stuff. Or they could just ask his assistants to finish the crap.

He would go on a holiday trip.

Far away from Olympos.

Preferably even away from Hellas.

Sicilia?

That was the place.

He hadn't seen Vulcanus in a while.

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“… And that's basically, what happened.”

“Hm …”

Vulcanus peeked at his Greek colleague from behind his cup.

“Let me check, if I got this right”, he spoke, “You avenged yourself on the adulterers by placing a curse on their innocent daughter. A girl, who never did anything to you aside from that one flaw she can't help – that she was conceived through adultery – which, as I just said, really isn't her fault, who was pretty much as pure as the rays of the sun above”, the Italian god commented. “Well, I'm not going to question your motives. But do tell me: are you proud of yourself and of what you have done to Harmonia?”

Hephaistos didn't answer immediately. He was just stubbornly staring into the fire.

Alone, Vulcanus already knew the answer, long before the older god spoke.

They didn't meet often, but knew each other oddly well – as if they were brothers.

Perhaps in a sense they were.

Finally Hephaistos admitted: “No, I'm not.”

The Italian god cleared his throat: “Y'know, I have found, that time can fix that kind of shit. Revenge isn't always needed. Besides, you already exposed and publicly embarrassed them and divorced Aphrodite, it was not necessary to get back at her. Why make a cruel and complicated revenge plan, when you can just … let it go? I know it's easy to say and hard to do, but it's true. Think about it; is she that important to you, that you cannot forgive their betrayal, even after thousands of years? Trust me. Revenge isn't always the right thing. It doesn't make you a good person in any way.”

The Greek god sighed in obvious frustration.

But his facial features gradually softened into a pensive expression.

Eventually his face became determined, he muttered a begrudging “Ugh, fine”, rolled his wheelchair around and bid his colleague goodbye.

“What will you do now?”, Vulcanus wanted to know, as he stepped aside to let his colleague out.

Hephaistos turned around and was (surprisingly) smiling.

“Travel to Illyria. I'm going to meet with an old friend.”

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“Thank you for the ride, Helios”, Hephaistos thanked his driver.

The sun Titan laughed merrily: “Hey, anything for my best buddy! Besides, I understand what you're up to, man. You sort things out and if you need a ride back to Olympos, just call me up, 'kay?”

The blacksmith god smiled: “Sure.”

“Alright!”, the Titan exclaimed and jumped back onto his chariot, “I'll continue my trip across the sky, before your king gets the vapours.”

The younger deity could only giggle.

The Titan grinned, before spurring his horses and riding off.

With a fond smile Hephaistos looked after Helios. The gods could say about that guy what they wanted, but he was a really good and reliable friend.

But his smile faded immediately, as he turned to the temple that contained the petrified remains of his niece and her husband.

This would be incredibly hard and he wasn't sure, if he actually knew what to say.

But he wasn't a coward and he definitely was no quitter.

He wasn't sure, if Harmonia could hear him, but he definitely owed her an apology – even, if he had to give it to a rock, since her and Kadmos' remains had turned to stone through Zeus' will.

That's my fault … it's all my fault …  

“Alright”, he murmured to himself. “Time to finally man up and face the shit I've done.”

He entered the building and to his relief found, that it was empty.

Good.

It would be Tartaros to explain to a mortal priest or visitor, what a tan, young-looking man with long black hair and a wheelchair (it wasn't like the mortals knew those yet) was doing inside a funerary temple with an offering of incense, cinnamon, holy water and a bouquet of white roses. Bringing flowers was silly; the goddess turned mortal was now dwelling in Elysion, where the flowers grew fairest, but she would have been happy either way, he knew.

She was a real sweetheart … I have to give it to her parents, they raised her well.

He looked around the interior.

It was a plain, almost minimalistic temple and behind a simplistic altar, on an elevated pedestal stood a statue of two medium-sized Drakones³, entwined in eternal embrace. Thus the couple had passed on and thenceforth their petrified bodies had remained this way. It was both romantic and tragic.

He sighed: “Hello, Harmonia. It's been a while. The last time we saw each other was at your wedding, I believe?”

He set his offerings on the altar with some effort.

“I'm sorry I took so long. Well, for that and a lot of other things. This is kind of stupid, because I'm here talking to a rock, when I should be saying this to your face. But I can't, so this will have to do. I don't know, how much you knew. Or if you can hear me, for that matter. Still I owe you an explanation … and an apology.”

Suddenly he was startled by a gust of wind, but when he looked around, no one was there.

After looking around cautiously, he just assumed, that it had been the draft and turned back to the stone.

“Well, there really are no words to make up for what I have done to you to get back at your parents, but I will try anyway.”

He began with an explanation, then a confession, before attempting to apologise.

Eventually he said: “So … that's it. That's kinda how I ruined your entire family out of petty revenge. I know that a sorry won't cut it. But I'll try anyway. I'm sorry. I had no right to do what I did. Because of my grudge against your parents, I destroyed your every chance at happiness. Because of the circumstances you were conceived in, I hated you, even though you never did anything to warrant it. Back then I did it to make them suffer and didn't care about how you would handle all of this.  Today I know, that I was in the wrong. I should have just let it go and instead I made an innocent woman suffer out of selfish spite. What I have done is unforgivable and I do not ask for your forgiveness, that I don't deserve. Still I want you to know, that I regret what I did. So I hope that you can hear this. If you hate me now, that's fine (you have all reason to), but if you can find it in your heart to believe me, that would be more than I could already ask for. Please believe me, when I say … I'm sorry. I deeply, truly am.”

Finishing his apology, he took a deep breath.

There. It had been done.

Suddenly he felt a lot lighter, even though he had been talking to a rock.

For a moment the temple was quiet.

Then a voice made him almost yelp.

“That was a beautiful apology. Would've been better, if you had said it to her face, though.”

Hephaistos turned his wheelchair around as quickly as he could.

“How long have you been here?”, he gasped.

Ares shrugged: “I saw Helios drop you off here, when I came, so I think it's safe to say: the entire time.”

The smith frowned; so that had been the gust of wind from earlier!

The war god shook his head and approached.

He too was carrying offerings in his hands and arms; a giant, quite colourful bouquet of exquisite flowers, a bottle of perfume, a peplos, incense and a bowl with fruit.

Ares set his rich offerings down on the altar, next to the one Hephaistos had put there earlier.

Then he crouched down next to the younger god's wheelchair with a sigh.

For a few minutes, they sat in awkward silence, before Hephaistos cleared his throat.

“Ares, maybe you should fold your wings away, before-”

“May they see 'em”, the older cut him off. “They already have before. They know the father of their late queen.”

Hephaistos could see the other's wings tense up and the fingers claw at the stone floor, before Ares composed himself.

“You have some nerve, showing your face here.”

“I know.”

“Was about fucking time though.”

“Yes, it was.”

“I've read your letters.”

“Have you?”, Ares muttered.

“Yes. In Athena's presence, like you wanted.”

“Good.”

“I've burned them thereupon.”

The war god's mouth quirked upward. “Figured you would.”

“Those letters were crap.”

“Sure, whatever you say. And still you cried, before you burned them. Daddy's Owl told me. If you really had thought they were crap, you wouldn't have shed a tear.”

Hephaistos couldn't help but be surprised, that the red-eyed god knew him so well, but he didn't voice it.

Apprehensively he watched his older brother.

Ares was grinning lopsidedly, but his red wings rustled and twitched in irritation, giving away that he wasn't remotely as casual or amused as he was pretending to be.

To be fair, neither was the younger.

“I still think that you're a prick, Ares.”

“I know. And you're right. But I'm gonna level with you, brother – you've been an arse too.”

Hephaistos smiled bitterly: “Yes, there's no denying I was.”

“Ya know, when Aphrodite and I first realised it … that thing with the necklace … we were really mad at you, both of us.”

“I don't blame you.”

“Good.”

Ares craned his neck to look his brother directly in the eyes.

“Why did you do this to Harmonia? How could you? Why to her? She … she …”

His toneless voice wavered and he quickly looked away again.

“It wasn't my intention at first”, the smith whispered. “The necklace was meant for her mother.”

Ares didn't respond. He didn't have to.

Hephaistos knew, what he would have said, if he'd had the words to say it. He also knew why he still wouldn't have said anything, even if he could have.

“I'm sorry”, he finally whispered.

Ironic, really; never would he have imagined, that he would apologise to Ares of all gods.

The red-eyed god didn't answer beyond a heavy sigh.

The blacksmith god didn't know how long they sat in silence hereafter.

But at some point Ares placed his left hand onto the armrest of his brother's wheelchair – cautiously, as if to give the other the option to just slap it away, if he didn't want it there.

Hephaistos' brown eyes widened.

That was a rather tentative and gentle gesture from the abrasive, warlike madman that was Ares.

Then again, who was he to complain?

With a tiny smile he took the hesitant hand and gave it a firm squeeze.

.

---

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1) Algea: the Greek Daimones (spirits) of pain, suffering and grief, bringers of weeping and tears, daughters of Eris, the goddess of strife. 2) Pontos: the primordial personification of the sea, a son of Gaia. 3) Drakones: serpentine dragons (mostly just enormous snakes)

[recurring-polynya]

oooooo, Renji drabbles! you’ve mentioned before how you suspect that Renji and Shuuhei were a thing once upon a time... is it possible you can write a drabble where they’re on a date together? They’re only two of the hottest guys in the realm

Abarai Renji was on a date.

He’d been on a few dates in his life, disastrous occasions when Momo had stuffed him in a yukata and sent him out with some fresh-scrubbed, extremely nice girl she had dredged up somewhere. The girls would talk and talk and steal glances at his tattoos and guilt would well up in his chest until he wanted to vomit and at the end, they would kiss him on the cheek and he would make it a point to never see them again.

Today, he was wearing yesterday’s uniform and wandering around a flea market in a weird, eclectic Seireitei neighborhood that he’d never been to before, watching Hisagi Shuuhei root through a bin of Living World automotive parts. His boyfriend, Hisagi Shuuhei.

Renji had slept with Shuuhei enough times that he no longer kept count. Shuuhei cooked him dinner at least twice a week and Renji would bring over beers or sake. They usually sat next to each other at the bar, and he’d throw his arm around Shuuhei’s shoulders and Shuuhei would put a hand on his knee and it was very comfortable like that. Renji had started keeping a toothbrush at Shuuhei’s place, and then decided that he didn’t like sharing Shuuhei’s hair gel, and now probably three quarters of the shit Shuuhei’s bathroom was actually his. People would constantly call his phone asking for Shuuhei, because Shuuhei’s phone was perpetually out of battery, not that Renji’s was ever at more than a single digit’s worth of charge.

So last week, when Shuuhei asked him if he wanted to be boyfriends and Renji said “no” and then Shuuhei asked him which part of this he wanted to stop doing, he said “none of it” and then he was forced to concede that maybe he did want to be boyfriends and now they were on a date.

It wasn’t so bad.

The weather was nice, and Renji was eating a taiyaki at 10am, which was, in his opinion, the very acme of gratuitous self-indulgence. Shuuhei had bought it for him because he said “he looked extra cute in the morning” and also, he’d found some money in his pocket that he forgot he had.

“Oi, Renji, do you know what a spark plug actually looks like?” Shuuhei shouted from neck deep in his bucket of parts. It occurred to Renji that Shuuhei usually called him Abarai in public, but maybe first names were part of this new regime they were now operating under.

“I do not,” Renji admitted. “Maybe we could try to find one on the motorbike and take it out and bring it with us next time. You have that book with the diagrams, so we can probably figure out where to find it.”

“Ah, you’re so smart!” Shuuhei exclaimed and Renji blushed because no one ever said that to him, maybe not in his entire afterlife.

The Guilt curled in Renji’s stomach, slow and throbbing, but it wasn’t choking, consuming, like it used to be. He had always thought the Guilt was for Rukia-- that he was betraying her, cheating on her, somehow. But he didn’t owe Rukia anything, to be honest, any more than she owed him. She was living a fantastic life somewhere, probably having pitted cherries placed directly in her mouth while someone else painted her fingernails. She sure wasn’t waiting around for him to show up and shout his undying devotion to her. In fact, he could practically imagine the horrified face she would make at him if she found out he’d been pining over her.

No, the Guilt was for the other girls, Momo’s pretty, doe-eyed friends that he was never, ever going to fall in love with, no matter how much they flipped their hair at him. His heart was burnt down to a cinder-- a black, dusty thing, too hot to touch, and in danger of falling to ash if someone were to try. You could only love for so hard, for so long without getting anything back. Then, you started burning yourself up instead, from the inside out.

That had been a long time ago, though. Even if he still missed Rukia like hell, there were other good parts of life these days. His fights with Ikkaku were getting pretty even these days. He even got to spar with the Kenpachi once in a while, which was both exciting and flattering and then, two minutes later, deeply, deeply painful. He liked being Sixth Seat, not just because it paid well, but because he liked working with the unseated guys, liked teaching them how to be real swordsmen, not just loud goons. After years of Yumichika making him rub flowery smelling stuff on his face and in his hair, there was a pretty good looking guy staring back at him when he looked in the mirror. A guy who felt good about looking good, a guy who now knew how to pick out his own flowery smelling face goops.

“I think,” he had explained to Shuuhei, the only person to whom he had ever explained the burnt-up cinder heart theory, “that there might be a little chunk of it, like the size of my thumb, that’s not all the way toasted, just maybe really tough and chewy, like beef jerky.”

And Shuuhei had looked him in the eyes, real soft-like, and said, “Pal, your tiny little dried up beef jerky heart probably has more love in it than most people have in their entire body. You have been up front with me, which I respect a lot, and I’m willing to take my chances anyway.”

Shuuhei currently was surveying the street like an explorer deciding which path he wanted to take through a jungle. “You wanna go see the leatherwork stall? They had some sweet wrist cuffs last time, really gorgeous tooling.”

“Why do you always want to look at stuff that you can’t afford?” Renji groused. He’d been trying to start saving again, since he got his raise, something he hadn’t done since he was at the Fifth. He couldn’t decide which it was that was making him more grouchy-- having to put limits on his expenses, or how little was actually piling up in the bank account he’d opened. He wasn’t even sure what he was saving for. It just seemed like money was something a functional adult should have. He wasn’t exactly sure he would classify himself as a functional adult, but it was something to aspire to.

Shuuhei stretched, and rested his hands on the back of his head. “Sometimes it’s fun to just browse,” he shrugged. “You’re so practical, Renji, you should let your imagination out a little, once in a while.”

Renji’s face must have done something stupid, because Shuuhei quickly followed up with, “Things don’t always have to pan out to be worth dreaming of. C’mon, I know you’re dead jealous of those flashy goggles Iba’s been wearing lately.”

Renji wrinkled his nose because he was. Iba’s new shades were cool as fuck and expensive as fuck, too. Iba had offered to let him try them on, and Renji had said no because he was almost positive he would look better in them than Iba and he didn’t want to have to go around thinking about that all the time.

“We can go to the used book place instead,” Shuuhei offered. Shuuhei was really good at hopping off subjects that Renji was sensitive about. He’d probably been doing it for a while, but Renji had just gotten around to noticing. “It’s all shitty, falling-apart paperbacks, but they’re pretty cheap, plus I have a bunch of credit, because I trade mine in when I’m done with ‘em.”

“Ah, that sounds nice,” Renji, who had a great love for shitty, falling-apart paperbacks, replied. “But let’s swing by the leather place, too.” He crumpled up the paper from his taiyaki and threw it in a high arc into a nearby wastecan. Then wiped his hand on his hakama, and held out his hand, flexing his fingers obnoxiously. “I bet I would look good in wrist cuffs.”

Shuuhei grinned and immediately lowered his hands from his head so he could grab Renji’s. “You would look so good in wrist cuffs.”

And off they went, together.

[littlemessyjessi]

Nikki Sixx (Douglas Booth Version) : ABC Fluffy Headcanons

Fluffy Alphabet (Shoutout to my lovely friend, Traenon! She literally saved these for me months ago from something she read and sent it to me through messenger.  So credit to OP for the prompts!)

Nikki Sixx (Douglas Booth version) Headcanons Nikki Sixx x PS Reader X Reader: PS Reader, Plus Size Reader

A = Attractive: what do they find attractive about the other?

You adore his eyes and his passion.  

He'd sin for your lips....and the sass passes through them.

B = Baby: do they want a family? why/why not?

Secretly?  Yes. But he's terrified of turning into his parents. He's an awesome father though and you know this in your heart.   So whether you become actual parents or pet parents- your babies (fur or otherwise) are the luckiest in all the land.

C = Cuddle: how do they cuddle?

At first....NOT. He's just not used to it.  He was denied a lot of that kind of thing but eventually his touch starvation gets the best of him. Now he's on you like white on rice.

D = Dates: what are dates with them like?

Usually, he's so fucking nervous he can barely speak. Still. Even after many years you still make him blush and fumble with his words. Poor Nikki- you just make him speechless.

E = Everything: “you are my ____” (e.g my life, my world…)

My best addiction. And it fucking terrifies him sometimes how much he's addicted to you.

F = Feelings: when did they know they were falling in love?

His mother showed up one day.  You handled it and honestly he didn't even know she was there until about a month later.  

He confronted you about it and asked why you didn't tell him.  

You just told him that she didn't deserve his time and that if he ever wanted to talk to her again- you knew he could find her.   But that it was his decision...not hers.  

Ya boy fell hard right then and there.

G = Gentle: are they gentle? If so, how?

He's so soft. Honestly, he's amazed that you're with him. Sometimes he just reaches out and runs the back of his knuckles down your spine in wonder.   It's like he's checking to make sure you're really there and he's not dreaming. Because for the life of him- he can't figure out why/how he ended up so lucky.

H = Hand/Hold: how do they like to hold? how do they like to hold hands?

Constantly. At first he was really weird about it.  Now, it's so constant you forget he's even got a hold of you.  You've yanked him out of his chair before not thinking about the fact that ya'll were still attatched, lol.

I = Impression: first impression/s

He was a dick but you'd seen worse. He was also completely shit faced. You held his hair while he puked his guts out and rolled him over when he passed out so he wouldn't choke on his own vomit.   You made him tea in the morning and watched as he tried to apologize.  

J = Joker: are they into pulling pranks?

Too much sometimes.   He learned his lesson and your breaking point. He fucked with something you cared about and you straight up left for a few days. It's not like you left him but you just had to step away from the situation before you did something you regretted. He was wrecked when you got home and swore he'd never do that again.  

K = Kisses: how do they kiss?

Like I said- at first he was weird about it.  Now, he's always sucking your face.

L = Love: who says I love you first?

You did. Well, actually he did it in his sleep all the time. But like for real- you did. He was shocked...and he cried.  He'll deny that but he fucking did.

M = Memory: their favourite moment together

You dragging his ass to a roller skate rink.  He busted his ass constantly but you were giggling and beautiful and he wouldn't trade it for the world.

N = Nickel: do they spoil? do they buy the person they love everything?

He loves to give you flowers.  Whether they're weeds or roses- you light up and he loves it so much.

O = Orange: what color reminds them of their other half?

Blue.  It's sweet and peaceful.  But like the sky- it can turn dark and stormy in a moment.  You're not to be fucked with...and he fucking loves you for it.

P = Pet names: what pet names do they use?

Baby.   He's always been that way with you. Sometimes Babydoll if he's trying to get his way. And he fucking adores when you call him Honey or Honeybun.   You'll never get him to admit that but he FUCKING DOES.

Q = Quaint: what is their favourite non-modern thing?

You leave him notes in his leather jacket and he melts every time he reaches in for his cigarettes and pulls out the little piece of paper with your hand writing.

R = Rainy Day: what do they like to do on a rainy day?

He writes and insists that you suffer the creative process with him.

S = Sad: how do they cheer themselves/each other up.

The most fucking stupid faces. He takes polaroids and tapes them everywhere.  He put a ludicrous one in your underwear drawer one day and you laughed so hard you fell down the stairs.

T = Talking: what do they love to talk about?

Anything and everything. Recently, he's been obsessed with Ann Rice novels. Of course, his ass would be be.  Fucking Lestat.  You're so damn sick of hearing about that damn vampire, lol.

U = Unencumbered: What helps them relax?

He actually likes fishing.  He also doesn't mind the view if you go with him and lay over there half naked on a towel.  Just saying.

V = Vaunt: what do they like to show off? What are they proud of?

Pft. How quickly he can steal your attention away from anything and everything.

W = Wedding: when, how, where do they propose?

He thinks about it but he's too scared to ask. He will eventually.  He'll basically be hyperventilating but you don't rush it. You know he's gonna ask and you know he's gotta do it.  So you patiently wait and the second he gets it out you answer with an immediate, 'YES!' Then you tackle him.

X = Xylophone: What’s their song?

"I'd Love You To Want Me" by Lobo. Because of fucking course.

Y = You’re the ___ to my ___ (e.g the cookies to my milk, the macaroni to my cheese)

"Pills to my booze." "Nikki, shut the fuck up!" "Baby, come on!" "I will cut you!" And that mother fucker just fucking laughs.

Z = ZZZZ: How do they sleep?

Not often.   But with you? He's fucking OUT.

WHO ELSE DO YA’LL WANT TO SEE FLUFFY ABC HEADCANONS FOR? 

Hello darlings! Hope you enjoyed this little piece and have a wonderfully awesome day!

If you wanna see more of my content just check out my blogs! @littlemessyjessi is the main blog full of fandom fictions, imagines, headcanons and sickeningly sweet fluff! Yeah, I know, lol. Barf.  But hey, I like it. @witchyweirdness is the magical blog full of witchy content And last but not least !   @monsterbaesbymamakennysaurus is my monster blog full of all kinds of monster related content! So I hope to see you there! Love, Kenny

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Love, Kenny

[aprilgrayrobin]

Judgment XX

Part 1

When I was sixteen, I came home from school one day and my mother gathered my little sister and I in the living room with an enormous sense of urgency.  Her face was full of fear and sorrow as she presented us each with a backpack, and told us that everything we would need to hopefully survive could be found inside. A change of clothes, running shoes, thermal blanket, protein bars, tablets to disinfect drinking water, basic first aid supplies, iodine tablets to prevent the body from absorbing radiation, and a bundle of cash in small bills.

She informed us that the very next day, according to the prediction of an evangelical pastor, the rapture would take place. In Christian theology, this is the second coming of Christ to Earth and the event that signals what is commonly conceptualized as “the end of the world.”  As a Christian, my mother believed that she would ascend to heaven. As “non-believers,” my sister and I would be left in the rubble… which is to say some vague, resource-scarce dystopian landscape of smoky skies and fights to the death in abandoned grocery stores aisles.

My mom was ready to go. She was ready to leave this world, and move on prematurely to the afterlife. But this was not a new thing. She had been ready, with barely one foot on the ground, for as long as I can remember.

As a young child, I recall tornado warnings that would send us running to the basement with sleeping bags, ready for the worst. The world ending wasn’t always about Christ’s return, see. More broadly, for my mom, I think it was about retreating from reality. It was any excuse to hole up and defend her nuclear family from threats semi-real to fully imagined.  She hoarded (and still, I believe, hoards) supplies as a regular practice--cleaning products, canned goods, bulk grains, batteries--and invariably most of it would expire before it was ever put to use. But it soothes her, my mother, and abates the anxieties stoked by Fox News, InfoWars and fire-and-brimstone preachers delivering end times prophecies to the day.

It is hard to share this. Despite the harm she caused me, and the fact that we do not speak, I have love for my mother. I see her paranoia and her attempts to feel safe in a world that is fundamentally not safe.  I feel sad that she can only conceptualize safety as being more prepared than her neighbors, and keeping it all to herself. I want to share this, though, because in being raised by someone perpetually readying herself for the apocalypse, I developed a readiness of my own.

I am thinking about the Dean Spade lecture on mutual aid, “Solidarity Not Charity,” that I attended this past fall. There was a moment when he was speaking about the idea of safe spaces as being not only an impossibility, but a concept that actually detracts from effective organizing. I want to quote him as saying, “If I get my safety from making you wrong, that’s authoritarian.” He described being at a meeting where people were planning for a common goal, and someone saying something hurtful and offensive. Rather than immediately kicking the person out, he said, what could come of recognizing that you had a common enemy (capitalism, the police, etc) and educating them. The “safety” that would allow him to respond to that situation in the latter way was generated by “having enough, and being held in community so that we can tolerate discomfort.” it is this definition of safety that I have been orienting towards.

Part 2

Recently someone asked me what kind of witch I am, and I told them “a political one.”  I say this because the witch hunts of early modern Europe are one of the main origin points for our current conception of what a witch is. Although the Wicca of second wave feminism claimed those executed as “witches” to be ancestors of a Pagan religious tradition, in reality many if not most of them understood themselves as Christian. According to Silvia Federici’s extensively researched thesis, the people executed as witches were killed for the threat they posed to the newly enforced order of economic and social relations— early capitalism. In medieval Europe, most people practiced some form of what we would call magic. Charms for love, money and protection were run of the mill. It was only the magic of those who existed in opposition to the patriarchal capitalist order--the unmarried, disabled, unhoused, and destitute--that was labeled diabolical. Those Christians became heretics, and heretics became witches. The practice of magic alone did not, and perhaps does not, make someone a witch.

I am a witch in part because I was baptized in the Presbyterian church. I am a witch because I am a dyke who loves God (in a polytheistic kinda way). I am a witch because I survived an upbringing that nearly killed me, and I have committed my life to fight to destroy the societal structures which give rise to the interpersonal violence that I endured. I am a witch because of the non-hierarchical way I strive to relate to life in all its forms— plant, animal, human and non-human, living and dead. I am a witch because I believe that what we can imagine, we can bring into being.

In March of 2017 I was preparing for a spring equinox ritual with a group of witches as part of a Wheel of the Year class offered by my teacher, Miel Rose. On the seasonal theme, we wanted to cast a spell for moving back into embodiment after a time of being numb... For embracing the movement of spring after the dormancy of winter.  In the week between our planning meeting and the day of our ritual, I found out the man my sister was dating, Rafael, an undocumented man from Guatemala, was detained by ICE in Pennsylvania.  I remember feeling utterly powerless to free him from the jaws of the evil machine that is our immigration system. I went into ritual thinking about our intention for greater embodiment and movement. It wasn’t complete, I realized, as a spell to support our own transformation. We needed to cast a spell for freedom of movement for all people, all beings.  And so we did.

On the bike path in Northampton, under the South Street overpass, we chalked in huge letters

A WORLD WITHOUT CAGES IS POSSIBLE.

And we chanted and hummed and visioned and sent the truth of that world we could feel in our bodies out to be picked up and passed on by others.

After ritual, I wrote these words in my journal:

"I WILL FEED MYSELF BECAUSE I LOVE THIS WORLD AND I AM OF THIS WORLD AND I DESERVE TO BE FED

Let it all come up into the (sun)light

Learning to be vulnerable, slowly Learning I won’t be punished for it Learning it’s ok to make mistakes, to be wrong, to fuck up That I can and will be held

Real change is slow and sometimes it hurts but sometimes it’s a steady drip till the water flows in full."

We were unsuccessful in our legal efforts to free Rafael from detention and prevent him from being deported. Witnessing his journey struggling against the system--attending his asylum trial inside the prison where he was being held--further radicalized me and moved me to political engagement in a new way. Fast forward a couple of years and I’ve been blessed to organize as part of the Trans Asylum Seeker Support Network to get transgender and genderqueer asylum seekers across the U.S./Mexico border, out of ICE detention, and set up with sponsors and support in western Massachusetts. This work has drawn me into a web of community I had previously only dreamed of (and cast spells for). We believe it is possible and necessary to abolish the police, abolish prisons, abolish capitalism. As a collective, we treat each other with kindness and encourage honesty in everything we do. We recognize that we need each other, and we act like it. What an immense gift to be surrounded by people who believe that a world without cages is possible, and to be fighting for it together. The more I connect and build with radical left activists, the more I realize we could have an entirely different world.

Part 3

And that is what I am sitting with in this moment. Everyone is calling it the apocalypse, and I don’t think that’s heavy handed. The word apocalypse comes from the Greek apokalupsis, from apokaluptein meaning ‘uncover, reveal.’ The whole world is seeing what was behind the curtain that is the mythology of capitalism.  There are extreme losses occurring in this process. Death abounds. This is heavy. And. In the shadow of death there is preciousness. On this, I think, my mother and I agree. Everything is cast in a softer light. The finiteness of life becomes more real. There is possibility for deep change, because the ultimate change looms so large. We feel the urgency of how totally unsustainable the current order of economic and social relations is. The working class is fed up, and recognizing that they have power.

I re-read the Revelation to John (aka the Book of Revelation) recently for the first time in years. I believe that the end of the world described there cannot be separated from the description of the downfall of the Roman empire. I choose to read it slant. I choose to queer it. I choose to cultivate a relationship with this apocalypse moment that centers weaving webs of care alongside on the ground organizing to bring about the downfall of our current empire. For me, it is the only way through.

[skvaderarts]

Soliloquy Chapter Seven: Abscond

You can check out the Masterlist Here for more links to places to read!

Chapter Seven: Abscond

Note: I just wanted to start by saying that chapter six was an absolute nightmare to write, but I had a great time doing it nonetheless. I’ve spent a few months trying to get myself to write this fic, and that resurrection scene was basically the whole reason. Trying to figure out a way to do that and make it make sense, fit into the existing confines of the series, and be coherent and enjoyable to read made for quite the crippling challenge, so I am thrilled by the reception that that chapter received! I remain humbled by your kind comments and warm words of encouragement! Thank you to every single person who commented, reblogged, gave kudos, and sent me messages about the story. I’d name you all, but in addition to everyone who has ever left me feedback on the previous chapters, almost 200 new people read the last chapter, so I can’t list you all by name. However, I can say thank you. Thank you all so much!

-~-

The overcast that had loomed overhead as they had entered the building was now more prevalent than ever. Be it a result of their current actions, some form of an ominous omen, or simply impeccably timed weather, it alluded to a coming storm of epic proportions. Huge dark clouds that would cause any right-minded pedestrian to check the current time of day spread across the sky in a vast network, chilling the air and absorbing all forms of light. The once gentle breeze was now a harsh wind, hammering against every surface it came across. It had been a glooming day from the very moment that the sun had come up that morning, but this was really kicking things into high gear.

As Magnolia collected what remained of the sparse materials she had brought with her to conduct the ritual, Nero oversaw V’s condition. The newly resurrected young man seemed to be semi-continuous, having still not opened his eyes since being brought back to the realm of the living, but able to react to physical stimuli. While it made sense to Nero on some level that he would not be fully operational out the gate (since he had never really been in the time he had known him) he still found himself unable to shake the feeling of uncertainty that had lodged itself deep into his subconscious.

He was worried about V.

Now that was something he never imagined he’d experience again...

As Dante and Vergil combed the space per Magnolia’s request to make sure there were no overt signs of demonic activity still present in the building, the youngest Descendant of Sparda went over a vague mental checklist in his mind. On the top of that list was the obvious question of where the hell V was going to go for the time being. While the Devil May Cry office was an obvious choice, there was the issue of Vergil’s undeniably recent return to contend with. Nero didn’t even need to ask if Dante knew where Vergil was staying at his office right now. They hadn’t been home long enough to see to that. For all the young white-haired man knew, his father had evolved to no longer require sleep during his time in the underworld. But V was going to be a different story. He just knew it. He had always been a different story; an exception to every rule.

“Hey, Magnolia,” Nero called to the alchemist as she packed up the last of her supplies,” Should I be worried that he looks like he’s in a coma or something?”

The woman in question shook her head as she closed the buckle clasps on her carrying case. “Being in a coma is no laughing matter, little one. Relatively speaking, it’s about as close to passing into Purgatorio as one can possibly get without actually being deceased.”

Nero chuckled to himself, nodding with an amused look on his face. “You don’t have to tell me that. I spent some time that way myself a little while back. Woke up one night to this one,” Nero said as he gestured towards V,” sitting in my window reading a book ready to offer me a job like I wasn’t already half-dead already or something. That’s how we met.”

Magnolia didn’t know what to say to that. While one part of her wanted to know what the hell had happened to him that ended with him comatose in the first place, her mind couldn’t help but find humor in the mental image of a person contracting someone to fight the envoys of the Underworld in their sickbed after seemingly breaking into their home. She decided that she would ask for more details when all parties involved were capable of speaking. “Well, if that’s the case, I’m glad to see that you're faring so well, dear. Hopefully, there will be fewer close calls in your future.”

Nero wasn’t entirely sure if she was being sarcastic or if the Alchemist was genuinely happy for his good health. She just had one of those voices, and the accent wasn’t helping in the slightest. “Thanks, I guess. Anyway, does bringing someone back from the afterlife or whatever come with a manual, because I feel like there’s something I’m missing in all of this.”

It was her turn to laugh now. She pulled the rolling case into an upright position and headed towards the front entrance, presumably heading to the van or some other form of transportation. After all, it was unlikely that she had walked here carrying all of these supplies from nearly twenty miles away up a gradual slope. Nero carefully lifted V bridal style and followed her. Somehow he weighed even less than he had originally estimated, if that was at all possible. Maybe after he had clothing on, his body weight would be more substantial. 

As cold as it was starting to get both inside and outside of the building, leaving him laying on bare concrete in -well, nothing- was probably a bad idea. As he followed her, she stopped, snickering to herself at the situation at hand, and decided to answer his question. “He should be more or less fine now. The hard part was relocating his soul to another plane of existence,” She spoke calmly, in a manner reminiscent of a professor giving a lecture,” The poor thing is going to be whether weak for a while though. Any inborn gifts he possessed prior to all this nonsense will trickle back in gradually, though in the meantime he will be effectively human. No passive regeneration, sixth sense, or anything like that for at least a week or so. I’m no doctor, but I’m going to take the initiative here and recommend bed rest. Extensively. What he just endured is taxing on the mind and body in every way conceivable, even for someone young and in good health. Don’t be surprised if he experiences dizzy spells or fainting. Proper nutrition is helpful, but this could still take a while.”

Nero nodded to himself as he took in the information she had just given him. Nothing seemed unreasonable, but it did clarify one thing for him. He needed to talk to Dante and Vergil. He chuckled to himself as he followed Magnolia, garnering a curious glance from her as they exited the building. “I fail to see the humor in this.”

In response to her statement, Nero smirked knowingly. “It’s not funny, it’s ironic,” He said. Her blank repose signaled that he needed to elaborate.” What I mean is you said he might faint and that for someone “in good health” this could be a lot to go to, right?”

She nodded, barely noticing the transition between the indoor and outdoor lighting as they exited the building and stepped out into the parking lot. “Yes. I said that. Why?”

Nero approached the van, using his foot to knock on the side door and signal Nico to open it. “Well, it’s ironic because he’s not “in good health” to start with. He’s walked with a cane the entire time I’ve known him and he’s constantly coughing or tripping over himself. Not to be an asshole or anything, but if I’m magnetically attracted to stairs, then he’s magnetically attracted to the ground ’cause that’s where he spends a lot of his free time.”

Magnolia blinked, her wide eyes filled with a sudden understanding and sympathy that she made no effort of hiding. Suddenly, what little desire she held to know how the young man before her had met his end fled her. It was unusual for someone his age to walk with a cane, especially one with a measurable amount of demon blood coursing through his veins. When he was more stable, she would need to take the time to try and consult with him. Perhaps there was something she could do to help…

As Nico opened the van door, Dante and Vergil exited the building. They arrived just in time to watch Nico’s frankly astounding facial expression at the sight of the presumably deceased demon slayer. “Well fuck,” she said as she stepped back to give the onboarding party room,” Every time you get in this van Nero, some weird shit happens; I swear. How the hell did yall- you know what? I don’t even wanna know! Let’s get outta here. Where are we headed?”

Magnolia pointed across the parking lot to the side of the building. They couldn’t see what she was pointing at, but they could only assume that it was her means of transportation. “I just wanted to see you off. I need to get back to my shop. Come see me later. And call me if you need anything,” She glanced at the oldest Son of Sparda, her eyes narrowing harshly,” Except you, Vergil. Your allowed casual visits at most.”

With that, she handed a slip of folded paper to Nero before hurrying off across the parking lot. Nico snickered briefly before looking at her passengers. She still needed a destination. Nero glanced between the twins and his friend as he laid V down on the couch. The summoner coughed weakly, teasing the possibility of opening his eyes for a moment before exhaling and settling back into his previous state, only this time more asleep than awake. Nero watched him for a moment before nodding to himself, his resolve towards the decision he had been teetering back and forth on now absolute. “... I think me and Nico should take V back to Fortuna with us.”

Dante and Vergil did a double-take, seemingly more surprised at his sudden uptake in initiative than offended by the statement. Dante seemed to consider quietly the statement, while Vergil seemed more apprehensive. 

“Why?” The eldest Son of Sparda said bluntly. He was clearly unconvinced.

Nero settled into a sitting position of the floor with his side against the couch, seemingly uninterested in heaving V’s proximity. Whether this was a conscious or subconscious decision or not remained to be seen, but he did so nonetheless. “Because there is a metric shit ton less demonic activity there than there is in Redgrave and Capulet and because I’m the only one here who isn’t going to get in an argument with my brother and literally destroy my own house. Magnolia said he needs bed rest and all that shit, and the only peaceful kinda peaceful place is my house. That, and your extra bedroom is taken, Dante,” Nero tilted his head in his father’s direction,” And I just happen to have an extra room at my place since someone decided to scare my kids back into one room!”

Vergil glanced away at the last statement, still unwilling to think about the mental damage he had probably inflicted upon those wide-eyed, chatty, orphans. “So you actually believe that three actual children can be that well behaved and we can't?”

Nero didn’t hesitate to nod in agreement. “Yea, because when I turn on the tv, they sit down and watch it. You can’t even turn a TV off without unplugging it, and your only means of communication with your own brother is stabbing each other to death. Plus, Dante’s doors get kicked in like every fucking week and he blasts loud ass music all the damn time. That’s literally the opposite or a restful environment!”

Dante shrugged incredulously. As much as he’d like to make some sort of witty comeback, Nero wasn’t exactly incorrect. Vergil closed his eyes as if he were deep in thought for a long moment as Nico tried not to laugh at this whole situation from the driver’s seat. Everyone in this family was a walking disaster and it was amazing that they had survived this long. After a minute that felt like a lifetime, Vergil sighed and leaned back against the window next to Dante who was now sitting down across from the couch and searching for a magazine to pretend to read to avoid this uncomfortable conversation. “... Do not disappoint me, Nero… I do not give my trust light.”

Dante interjected with a quick “no he really doesn’t” before continuing to reread his magazine for the millionth time. Vergil shot him a quick glare before returning his gaze to Nero. There was no humor present in his demeanor. Nero glanced between him and  V before nodding slowly in agreement. “I’m not going to.”

-~-

It had taken almost every ounce of daylight to drop Dante and Vergil off and then head back to the pier. And their timing couldn’t have been better as the ferry was stopping with the next round trip. The possibility of a thunderstorm had halted most water traffic, and all water transport between the island and the mainland was due to cease immediately upon the vessel’s return. That left just enough time to sneak one last trip in.

As the ship was docking, Nero called Kyrie to alert her of their arrival and to inform her that they would have another houseguest for a while. As expected, she didn’t protest the idea. In fact, she seemed thrilled, though that could be because Nero hadn’t elaborated on the context of the stay or who was coming over. V and Kyrie had never met one another, despite the fact that V had come to their home once before. But it had been during the middle of the night and the young summoner had been in something of a hurry at the time. There had been no time for pleasantries back then. But that was about to change. Hopefully.

As they pulled up to the onboarding ramp, Nero gave Nico the closest thing he could to a serious look. Before he could ask her not to go flying off the ramp, she disembarked, taking the ramp for perhaps the first time ever. Nero was utterly flabbergasted. “Nico, what the fuck?!”

Nico put her cigarette out in the ashtray she had placed in one of the cup holders. “What is it this time? If I drive carefully, you bitch at me. If I don’t, you bitch at me. Are ya crazy or somethin’? If you think you can do better, then you drive next time and I’ll take a nap in the back with him!”

Nero stared at her incredulously as she pulled around the corner and headed towards their shared residence. Nico absolutely never under any circumstance drove like a normal human being. He wasn’t sure if knowing that she could do that made him feel relieved or upset. She could have just driven the van like this the entire time he had known her? What the absolute fuck?

“So ya gonna keep starin’ at me like that or what?” Nico asked casually. Nero was at a loss for words and it showed.

As the van pulled onto the street that they called home, Nero stood up and walked over to V. Despite the fact that he still hadn’t woken up, he now looked more asleep than unconscious. Or at least that was what Nero thought. When he had first been brought back, he looked distressed, uncomfortable even. Now he seemed more at ease. At the very least, his breathing had been steady and he hadn’t coughed in at least an hour. He seemed stable. Nero couldn’t help but wonder if he was just a very deep sleeper and had been taking a much-needed nap this entire time. He doubted it, but still. Now that he thought about it, this was the first time he had actually seen the summoner sleep. During their time together during the Redgrave city incident, they had taken the occasional break, but V had been so preoccupied with his book that he hadn’t even sat down, always choosing to lean against the stove in the van’s kitchenette instead. Vergil had the book now, perhaps using it as a bargaining tool for later. He wasn’t much of a talker, a fact that had bothered Nero when they had first met. Who would have ever guessed that they’d be in the situation that they were in now, Nero bringing him to stay at his place? Wild shit happened sometimes.

“It’s just good to know that you can actually drive. Though I still don’t understand how you ever got a license.” Nero said as they pulled into the back alley that led to their driveway. For once, the door was open. Kyrie must have let it up after their conversation on the phone earlier. Nico climbed out of her seat and headed over to the side door, opening it and then hoping down to hold it open for Nero.

“Yea, well I wasn’t tryin’ to knock him around too much. He already walks with a cane.” Nico said as she stepped back towards the rear of the van. With the large vehicle inside of the garage, space was at a premium, and carrying someone required more room than normal. Nero fixed his jacket around V and scooped him up, nearly bashing his legs against the kitchen cabinet as he turned. The youngest Descendant of Sparda cringed to himself. That was one thing the two of them seemed to have in common to some degree. They were both clumsy as hell.

Taking a few cues from his close call a moment prior, he descended the stairs carefully and headed towards the inside door. Nico closed the door behind him and squeezed past them, heading to open the door for them. She nearly walked right into Kyrie as she did so. The young red-haired woman was carrying a stack of cardboard boxes and Nico had nearly sent her crashing to the floor as the door caught her in the side. She set the boxes down on the bench behind her and stepped back out of the way, clearly startled.

“My bad Kyrie,” Nico said as she looked her over for injuries,” I couldn’t see you!”

Kyrie smiled brightly and gestured towards the boxes. “You’re just fine, Nico. The children and I were cleaning out the extra room. There wasn’t really much in there, so I was hoping I’d be done before you arrived. These were the last three boxes. All of this was going on the empty shelves in the garage-”

Nico eagerly grabbed the stack of boxes as Nero entered behind her. “Ok, I’ll take care of it for you,” the young dark-haired woman said as she stepped out behind Nero and out into the garage. Kyrie was going to inform her that she could take care of it herself, but Nico disappeared behind the closed door before she could. The young redhead shook her head and giggled to herself as she turned to face Nero. During her time here, she had truly come to enjoy Nico’s extreme personality. She was a joy to be around.

The moment she caught sight of the white-haired young man her domestic partner was carrying, she went wide-eyed, her head crooking to the side in surprise. Who in Sparda’s name was this newcomer? Nero shifted anxiously. Maybe it was better if he just spit it out and got it over with? “Hey so… this is V, the guy I told you about when I came back after everything,” He said cautiously, unsure of how she was taking all of this,” It turns out that being dead is more complicated than everybody thinks, so he’s alive again. And… he’s kinda my brother so…”

Kyrie stared at him blankly. That was a little too much for her to take in all at once. She glanced down at their sleeping guest, leaning over him to get a better look. That made sense. They did have the same color hair, even though his looked a little whiter than Neros did to her. She was totally taken aback at the implications of what Nero had just said. He’d come back from the dead? Nero had told her Vergil had done that at one point, so the idea wasn’t completely foreign to her, but Nero had a brother? In the entire time that she had known him, she would have never guessed that he had siblings. He had always been so… alone. After all, being an orphan made it very difficult to locate your original family. It made her wonder what Nero must be thinking about all of this. As startled as she was, it had to be several times worse for him.

She smiled softly and gestured towards the guest room. It was on the opposite side of the house from the dining room. Being the only room on this floor and having its own small ensuite bathroom, it had been the natural choice for a guest room. She patted Nero gently as he passed her before turning towards the dining room. “It’s okay. I know you did the right thing, Nero. I’ll go get some extra blankets. I put a sheet and some pillows on the bed after I finished dusting, but I didn’t get a chance to do anything else.”

Nero stared at her as she walked off for a moment, relieved that she had taken that so well. She’d have probably told him off for his reaction if she’d been present at the time. Her understanding meant the world to him. “It’s okay, Kyrie. You do enough as it is.”

She waved at him over her shoulder as she rounded the corner into the next room and disappeared. He used his foot to nudge open the door and walked, taking a moment to look around. Aside from the built-in bookcase that had always been in the room near the door and the bed that jutted out into the center of the room, the entire room was spotless. The large window on the far side of the room that overlooked the small side yard where the children normally played was open, likely to let in the fresh air. Nero laid V down and sat at the foot of the bed, only now really registering how unreal this entire situation seemed to him. A moment later, Kyrie returned with a stack of about six blankets. Nero raised an eyebrow at her as she stuffed them into one of the open shelves on the bookcase and then used one to cover him up. It was a plush grey knitted blanket that she had made herself a while back. As soon as he was covered up, Nero unwrapped his jacket from around him and tucked it under his arm, returning his attention to Kyrie. She shrugged at his obvious confusion.

“I didn’t want him to be cold,” She said simply, gesturing towards the oversized stash of warm, thick blankets,”... Why was he wrapped in your coat? Is he okay?”

Nero looked over at V. He had stirred slightly, pulling the soft blanket tighter around himself. Now that Nero thought about it, Kyrie was probably correct. It had been abnormally cold for the last few hours. Having no clothes on had probably been uncomfortable, to say the least. “... I think he’s going to be alright. Supposedly he just needs to rest” Nero glanced over at the pile of blankets again, nodding to himself,” Thanks for the blankets. He doesn’t have any clothes on, so that’s probably going to be good for him. Probably should have said that before...”

Kyrie blushed bright red. “OH. I’m sorry then! I’ll go see if I can find him something!”

Before he could say anything, Kyrie hurried out of the room, closing the door behind her. He shook his head and laughed to himself. Poor kyrie. She probably felt like she had violated V’s personal space. He stood up and pulled an extra cover from the pile, tossing it over him. Better safe than sorry. As he leaned over him to fix the covers, V turned over and brushed his arm over him, exhaling audibly. Nero moved V’s arm off of his hand and continued, paying him little mind. As he sat up to assess his work, V gripped his wrist weakly. Assuming that he was simply shifting in his sleep again, he sat up and moved to step away and towards the door. But as he tried to pull away, V’s grip tightened. Nero turned his attention from the door back to the bed and nearly jumped out of his skin in fright. A familiar set of green eyes was looking back up at him.

V was awake. And he looked absolutely wrecked.

-~-

This chapter was so fun to write that I had to stop here and immediately start working on the next chapter. They will only be a day apart, so don’t worry, I won’t keep you in suspense for very long! Again, thank you so much for your overwhelming support. Hopefully, this chapter wasn’t too slow for you. But the good news is that V is actually awake now, so you know what that means. DIALOGUE! See you guys on May 22nd for chapter Eight! Wow, I can’t believe we’re already on chapter eight...

[sea-side-scribbles]

Doubled Back

Parallel Universe, Higgs vs Higgs, I have weird ideas sometimes...

Rating: M

Chapters 2/?

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21860554/chapters/52173571

Higgs shoots himself on the beach, so he won’t go insane.

What ensues from that makes him think it was already too late.

Chapter 1

Higgs had imagined the afterlife to be different, he immediately thought when the shot still echoed in his ears. He didn’t want to be insolent, but he didn’t expect to be lied down on a comfy mattress. He had reflexively curled his fingers into it when he had felt himself fall into the blackness. Soon after, he took his first breath after the shot and puzzled by that, he ripped his eyes open. It was revealed to him that he was indeed just lying in a bed, his heart pounding in his chest. 

He felt alive.

He jumped up and stared at the walls that surrounded him. He found that they looked very familiar. He walked over to a notice board and touched it’s cold surface. It felt very real. Still confused, he stepped backwards and let his gaze wander over the widespread network that occupied the whole room. Notes, photos, ripped out pages of books, all combined to one big picture, a sign of his former enthusiastic self. He saw his plan, his faith, screaming at him from the walls. „Amelie, my lord and savior“, was smeared in black all over it. 

He backed away, feeling he was about to choke on the sight. It was nothing but a shameless lie. Why was he back here to look at it? Did Amelie send him here to be embarrassed for one last time? There was only one way to deal with her precious altar of lies. 

With a war cry, he jumped at his old plans, ripped the pages apart, pulled out the cord that was holding them together and tore the photos apart. Soon, there was nothing left of his great plan than crumbled pieces of paper on the ground. He found that this was really fun, so he eagerly continued his work with smashing everything he could find against the walls. 

He grabbed a knife that had lied on the table and started to slice wildly creative patterns into everything he could reach. He ran the knife over every writing he found, until they were barely readable. Finally, he slashed the paddings of the furniture like a furious killer who was searching for his victim that hid in the room somewhere. 

The only picture he left intact was one flyer with Fragile’s banner on it, which he placed right in the middle of the shredded board. 

When he didn’t find anything more to destroy, he leaned at the door and looked at his work with a satisfied grin. Finally, he saw the truth. Now he had to get out of here though, his past still choked him. 

By then he knew that he was in his Homo Demens quarters, so he expected the two guards already who patrolled the corridor. They saluted nervously. They probably heard the noise his little endeavor had caused. One of them however had the courage to approach him, even though cautiously, like Higgs was a wild animal. 

„Master Higgs…“

„What?“ Higgs didn’t hide his annoyance. He only wanted to leave, this place was like a cord around his throat. 

„Forgive me asking but…don’t you…have a meeting now?

Higgs only stopped walking and kept looking straightforward. „The meeting is cancelled,“ he decided, „be a good boy and give the word, alright?“

„Yes, sir.“ And so he walked away and Higgs could continue his slow escape.

When the guard reached the meeting room and went inside, he came upon a big surprise. The assembly was complete and everyone seemed to listen to Higgs, who he had just interrupted in mid sentence.

„Master…Master Higgs? You…changed your mind?“, he stuttered into the awkward silence. He definitely didn’t appreciate this kind of humor. The look Higgs gave him also sent a cold shiver down his spine. 

„Would you excuse me just a minute?“, his master said and walked out, his devastated guard following him. 

„How long have you been my guard now?“, he asked sharply.

„For about five years, sir,“ his guard replied in a meek tone.

„And in all that time you didn’t notice how much I hate it to be interrupted?“

„You..you left me no choice, sir.“

He saw his master was slightly irritated by his guard’s candor.

„Explain,“ he ordered.

The guard assumed that this was some drill he didn’t understand yet.

„Just a minute ago you walked out of your quarters and told me that the meeting is cancelled and ordered me to give the word,“ he repeated what happened.

His master’s irritation turned into fury.

„I’ve been here for 20 minutes,“ he snapped. „You’re telling me that you let someone break into my room and let him go afterwards?��

„He…he looked exactly like you sir,“ the guard whimpered, still hoping this was some kind of cruel joke.

His master processed this information for a second before he yelled. „What are you waiting for? Seal the doors and find the man!“

Higgs was about to reach the entrance hall when he heard the alarm. With multiple loud crashes the doors got sealed and soon the room was flooded by Homo Demens that blocked the exit with their guns ready. Higgs watched this show with amusement and surprise. Without any fear, he approached the armed men.

„May I politely ask you what this fuss is about?“

Ruyther stepped forward. He was one of his most trusted men. A sign that this was a rather serious matter. „I apologize, but the order came directly from…Master Higgs,“ he said knitting his brows.

Higgs looked at him with an innocent expression.

„Oh, did it?“, he asked in fake surprise. „Don’t you think I should know about this then?“

Ruyther replied with a concerned expression. „It says we have an intruder, a doppelganger, to be precise.“

Higgs couldn’t believe his ears. What was that shit now?

„A doppelganger, eh?“, he repeated and stroked his chin seemingly deep in thoughts. „Hmm…I  wonder what gave him this idea? I hope he’s not completely unguarded now and walking around in our headquarters…“

„Of course not,“ the other man said in a factual tone. „He’s just as guarded as you are, but also a whole unity has confirmed his identity.“

„What?“, Higgs blurted out. „You can’t be fucking serious! I’m here! Ruyther, it’s me! Look at me!“

Ruyther eyed the other man’s face under the hood for a while until he answered: „You’re looking…different to me, sir…“. 

That caused the men around him to tense.

„What do you mean?“ Higgs’ voice was menacingly quiet. He also fought the urge to take off the hood but he would never expose his face like that.

„You’re looking…a bit younger…“, his guard stuttered.

Higgs laughed. „Oh, thank you“, he said with a charming smile. „You always find an occasion to flatter me, don’t you? But now I need to go, if you don’t mind.“ 

He walked towards the men but he only ended up with seven guns now aiming at him directly. Holding up his hands in fake surrender he stepped backwards again. „Aren’t you guys on edge today?,“ he snapped.

„You don’t seem to be very interested in that intruder…“, Ruyther observed warily.

Higgs sighted and wiped his forehead. 

He knew Ruyther had a point. He would be eager to find this impertinent imposter if he wasn’t actually dead. He just shot himself minutes ago, he found that was enough shit to deal with for one day.

„I’m busy…“, he said in annoyance, „just arrest him, ask him who he’s working for and do your usual routine…I’ll be back soon.“ 

His guard didn’t give up. 

„Sir, you need to give us a sign. A short demonstration of your powers would be enough,“ he offered sternly and his men shrank behind him. His powers were the last thing any of the Homo Demens wanted to be demonstrated. Especially not when Higgs was in a bad mood like now.

Higgs however realized what he had been missing the entire time. Ever since the beach, to be clear. When Amelie left him, she had taken her powers with her, so Higgs had been powerless when Fragile granted him the opportunity to kill himself and he was still powerless now. He closed his eyes, a reaction to compensate his embarrassment. If he ever met that bitch Amelie again, he would drown her in her own ocean. 

But he wouldn’t let her break him this time. He would play along as far as necessary but he won’t be her pawn.

The guards that had stared at Higgs in horror relaxed again when he opened his eyes and nothing bad happened. 

„Alright, you got me,“ he sighted. „Let’s look at my imposter with his incredible powers. Can’t wait to meet him.“

„I’m sorry for all of this,“ Ruyther said in all honesty. 

Higgs eyed him and his sarcasm turned into sympathy.

„It’s not your fault…you’re just being careful…“

He turned around and let himself be walked off along the hallways. He didn’t look forward to this at all. He was afraid to be exposed by some tar wizard, some level 2 or 3 who could summon little tar drops and faint shadows that looked like a BT for someone who had no clue what they really looked like. And Higgs couldn’t prove him wrong. What a shitty day.

He was glad that the imposter was at least indeed guarded. His office now was crowded with Demens who gathered around the guy. What Higgs didn’t notice was that all of them stared at him in surprise and then looked back at the other one who stood by the desk, trying to find a difference between them. When Higgs saw that the imposter was standing by his desk like he owned this place and was also turning his back on him he rolled his eyes. He noticed that he was wearing an actually very accurate remake of his own outfit too.

„You’ve been very impolite,“ the imposter greeted him with a voice that sounded alarmingly similar to Higgs’, maybe darker. „You didn’t even introduce yourself. Instead you invaded my private quarters and made quite a mess in them. You also seem to be not very intelligent, because you left a sign of who supposedly sent you quite plain to see. Tell me, what am I supposed to do with you?“

„Turn around, you clown, and show me your face,“ Higgs snarled back.

The room fell silent. Everyone seemed to fear the reaction of the guy by the desk.

„Again you’re impolite,“ he stated, shaking his head. „I don’t tolerate this behavior. Sherkoff, teach him.“ He gave a sign and one man stepped forward and approached Higgs with a sternly look.

Higgs straightened himself and followed the man with his eyes. Another one who had known him for years and didn’t recognize him now. The other man held the gaze, even though he saw into the same eyes his master had. 

„Are we doing this?“, Higgs asked defiantly but also with curiosity.

The slap he received was much weaker than the man could manage.

„I know you can do better than that,“ the imposter promptly said.

Higgs now looked rather amused. He had never wished to be slapped by his men but he could appreciate a good comedy. When the man hesitated again, Higgs whispered to him in a friendly way. „C’mon, just do it, we don’t want to make this guy mad, don’t we?“ He winked and tilted his head to the side. „I’ve been veeery impolite.“

The next slap jerked his head to the side and he fell heavy into the arms of the guards behind him.

„Good,“ said the voice by the desk. „Now one more time, just to make sure he gets the message.“

Higgs chuckled, even though his face burned. He lifted himself up and offered the other cheek without protest. The third slap sent him flying to the other side. Struggling up, he saw Sherkoff walk away. His punishment was over.

„I give you a second chance to change your tone, intruder. Just try to mind your words this time. I understand that you’re rather - simple minded.“

Higgs shook his head at that insult. This guy had some nerves. But he had made the message quite clear. His men obeyed him for whatever reason and he had no powers. Time to play along then.

„I…thank you for your patience“, Higgs sounded as submissive as he could while trying not to choke at his words. „Please accept my apologies and let me show you my respect by falling on my knees before you.“

„That’s much better…however your offer means that my men have to release you. I hope that you won’t try anything funny out of your mere simplicity. I’d rather not hurt you more.“

„I won’t try anything, sir,“ Higgs pleaded with a clear innocent voice.

The imposter gave a sign and the guards let go off Higgs, who just as promised sank down on his knees and bowed his head.

Finally, the imposter turned around and came closer.

„See, it’s not that hard to teach even the most stubborn specimen some manners. It only takes patience and a strong hand…“ He concentrated his attention to his men for a second and that was all the time Higgs needed to strike. The knife that once had carved his walls now sliced through the thick material of the other man’s suit. Warm blood sprayed out of it and covered Higgs in bright red drops when he led the knife from the bottom to the top up to the imposter’s chest. Soon, his eyes wandered to the other man’s face and the sight made him cry out it shock.

He saw himself, with distorted features, dead eyes staring into his own, his body slashed and bleeding out. When the body hit the ground he realized he had just killed himself once more.

[takerfoxx]

RD Walpurgis Nights 8, Part 11

Freehaven.

That was the name of the city, the city that was to be their home from now on. It was a nice name, Kriemhild supposed, and the pictures she had been shown had all been lovely, but there was something that really bothered her about it.

“Seriously, what kind of afterlife is this?” she had overheard one of the other girls ask Rachel after being told their destination. “Half of it looks like it came out of some kind of fever-dream, while the rest just looks…really normal. Where’s the clouds and halos? Where are our wings? Where’s…God?”

“The DIY kind,” had been Rachel’s answer. “I can’t speak to whether or not any other kind of afterlife exists, but this is the kind you get when you leave the dead to build one of ourselves on our own. A stubborn attempt at normalcy combined with a bunch of weirdness that you eventually just get used to.”

That had really been less than comforting, but so long as they weren’t doing it alone, Kriemhild supposed that she could put up with a little weirdness. Besides, compared to Doomsday Clock, it seemed like a slice of Heaven.

At least they were getting the first-class treatment on the way over. Inside of the sleek but kind of cramped spaceship that had come to their rescue, they were being sent over in something that seemed to be a cross between an airplane and a helicopter. It was also pretty sleek, but wasn’t open at the sides, and had four wings, each one with an adjustable propeller.

The inside looked very nice. There was plenty of space in between the seats, and they could sit wherever they wanted. Kriemhild and Homulilly found a pair of seats off away from the others.

As Kriemhild sat down, the chair glowed a bit, and then suddenly starting moving. She jumped up with a small squeak of surprise.

“What is it?” Homulilly said.

“My chair! It-”

Then she saw that its new shape was actually better, providing room for her to stretch her legs out in all directions and curl them around the chair’s base instead of having to make them hang over the front like a bunch of wet spaghetti like she had been doing.

“Oh,” she said as she sat down. “Oh, never mind. This is much better!”

As for Homulilly, she didn’t need any special accommodations. Still, she looked ill at ease. Her fingers were digging into the armrests, and her pale skin was starting to look a little green.

“Are you okay?” Kriemhild asked.

Homulilly gave her a sidelong glance. “Sure,” she said, her voice squeaking. “It’s just…I’ve never flown before.”

“Um, how do you even know that?”

“Okay. But even if I had, I can’t remember, so…” Homulilly breathed out. “They’re sure this is safe, right?”

“Don’t worry,” said a passing attendant. She gave Homulilly a friendly pat on the shoulder. “It’s perfectly safe. You’ll barely even notice that we’re moving at all.”

Homulilly managed a weak smile, but as soon as the attendant passed the look of worry returned.

Kriemhild reached over and squeezed her hand. “Don’t worry,” she said. “This can’t be any scarier than that big leap we took.”

“Okay,” Homulilly said. “Okay. Okay.”

Other girls were still filing on board, some of which Kriemhild recognized, others that she didn’t. Most of them looked to be in some sort of daze, while those that weren’t were suspicious of their situation. Kriemhild couldn’t blame them. Despite the kindness that had been shown them, Kriemhild still didn’t understand anything that was going on, and part of her still wondered if it was all some kind of trick.

One of the other girls was passing by when she so happened to glance down at the two of them. She had been wearing the same bewildered look as the others, but as soon as she saw them her eyes popped open wide and she leapt back with a cry. “Oh, my gosh!”

“What?” Kriemhild said, looking up at her in confusion.

“Her…” The girl pointed at Homulilly. “Uh, she has…her arms are…”

Homulilly’s face flushed bright pink.

Then one of the SSSR staff hastily took the surprised girl by the arm. “Come on, sweetie,” she said, quickly moving her away. “Let’s get you to your seat.”

Once they were gone, another SSSR girl quickly knelt down next to the pair. “I’m so sorry about that,” she said. “She’s as new as you are, and there are some things that-”

“It’s fine,” Homulilly said curtly. She turned away from her, hugging her arms to her stomach. “Just…it’s fine.”

“But there is nothing wrong with you,” the other girl continued. “Most people look even stranger, and-”

“Please go away,” Homulilly seethed.

The other girl winced. “Okay,” she said as she rose up. “Don’t hesitate to ask if you need anything.”

As soon as she was gone, Homulilly wiggled her arms inside her sleeves so that they were hidden by her shirt. Kriemhild silently pointed out the blankets in a small bag in the pouch on the back of the empty seat in front of her. Homulilly quickly stuck her arms back out just long enough to pull out the bag, yank out the blanket, and cover everything from her neck down.

“You know, I think they look fine,” Kriemhild said.

Homulilly didn’t respond. She just reclined her seat and closed her eyes.

“Homulilly?”

Still nothing.

Sighing, Kriemhild lay back and stared as the ceiling as the crew readied to take off and bear them away to what was going to be their new home.

…

Now…

“You know what’s weird?” Oktavia said as everyone came up the shady street that led to their home.

“Pretty much everything,” Gretchen said.

“I mean specific to right now.”

Gretchen shrugged. “Okay. What?”

Gesturing toward their house, Oktavia said, “After everything’s that happened, doesn’t it seem weird that the house is perfectly fine? I mean, I half-expected to come home to a crater.”

Homulilly had to admit that she had a point. Given how thoroughly everything had gone wrong, she had also been expecting the trend to continue. But no, the house was fine, almost as if the storm itself had never happened. Which was a little weird, seeing how Candeloro had told them that she had been hit by a branch that had been flung through the kitchen window.

“Well, the city is responsible for storm damage,” Ophelia said. “I’m guessing the whole neighborhood got torn up pretty bad, and they fixed it while we were gone.”

“They work fast.”

“They got magic. It helps.”

However, there was one thing that was out of place, something that made the group slow to a stop at the gate. A pair of marshals were standing by the front door. What they were doing there, Homulilly couldn’t imagine. Was it about Hitomi? Or had they found out about Candeloro? Either couldn’t be good news.

But then one moved out from behind the porch column she had been standing by, and Homulilly relaxed. Cheese was sitting on the marshal’s shoulder, and as soon as he caught sight of the gang, he let out a happy squawk and took off flapping toward them.

“Fuck you, cunt!” he cried as he lighted upon Ophelia’s shoulder.

“Hey, you’re okay!” Ophelia said as she started scratching his neck. “Yes you are, you big asshole.”

Cheese tilted his head to give her better access. “What is it?” he said. “What comes next?”

“He’s been staying with us at the station,” said one of the marshals as the two of them approached the gang. “A lot of people had pets go missing the last few days. His was one of the rare reverse situations.”

“Great, now he’s probably going to be cursing even more,” Ophelia said. “Thanks though.”

“No problem. Anyway, there really wasn’t much damage. The window was the worst of it, and the paint job took a beating. But that was fixed up almost immediately, as was any water damage to your possessions.” She handed Ophelia a card. “Here’s a number you can call if anything’s amiss.”

“Pour in…pour in one teaspoon of vanilla, and…shit in your mouth!” Cheese said.

“Oh yeah, that reminds me,” the marshal said. She glanced around shiftily and lowered her voice. “Hey, this might sound a little pushy, but…crepe suzette?”

The oddness of that comment snapped even Candeloro out of her funk. “What?” she said.

Sighing, the marshal pointed to Cheese. “He’s been dropping pieces of your recipe for what I think is crepe suzette all week, and it actually sounds really good. Only thing is, he won’t tell us the last part! How do you make it? I have to know!”

…

Inside things looked pretty okay. The furniture was all in their proper places, the place was cleaned up, and even Cheese’s jungle gym was in perfect shape, not to mention actually clean for once. There were a few odd items missing, but they found them all sitting on the kitchen table. Apparently they had been scattered by the storm, and the repairwomen hadn’t known where to put them, so they had simply placed them there.

“Well, this is one blessing at least,” Ophelia said. She gave her arm a half-toss, and Cheese went flapping over to his jungle gym.

“I’m going to go double-check our room,” Oktavia said. “I had a few rare shells that I was categorizing, and they better still be there.”

“I highly doubt that the repairwomen made off with your shells, Tavi.”

“That doesn’t mean they would check to make sure none of them were broken!”

Candeloro started for the stairs. “I’ll…I’m just going to go take a nap,” she said.

“Anything I can get you?” Ophelia said. Candeloro just shook her head.

Ophelia glanced over to Gretchen and Homulilly and winced. “Um, let me know if anything in your room is out of place, I guess. I’m going to go check on the garage.”

Homulilly watched her go. She had a feeling that Ophelia wasn’t going to give the garage more than a cursory glance, even though she would probably be staying there long enough to thoroughly investigate and catalogue every item. And Oktavia also wouldn’t be seen for some time.

Then Homulilly looked toward the fireplace. Or rather, to the display over the mantle.

Ophelia’s spear. Oktavia’s sword. Candeloro’s musket.

And Charlotte’s staff.

They were still there, nestled comfortably on their mounts. And the spaces for Homulilly’s shield and Gretchen’s bow were clean and waiting.

As Homulilly watched, Gretchen walked up to the display and placed her bow in its place. Homulilly looked down at her shield, shrugged, and went over to put it up as well.

“Does yours still work?” Gretchen asked.

“No,” Homulilly said as she adjusted the fit. “I tried working it earlier. The time-stop thing just won’t work anymore.”

“Mine neither. I tried shooting off those light arrows, but nothing happens.”

“Hmmm. You know, I think whatever it was that made Candeloro change back made our weapons work too.”

Gretchen sighed. “I’ve been trying to remember that dream we had, but I just can’t. There’s just this…this feeling of-”

“Closure?”

“Yeah. Hey, did we really talk to Madoka Kaname and Homura Akemi? Because I feel like we did.”

“I think we did,” Homulilly said. “Don’t ask me how though. Nothing really makes sense.”

“Do you think it ever will?”

Homulilly thought for a bit. Then she shook her head. “No, it honestly never has. But I still liked it. At least it was weird in a fun way.”

“Do you think things will ever get back to normal?”

“No,” Homulilly said flatly. “The best we can hope for is a new okay.”

…

A couple days later…

Homulilly sat on the couch next to Gretchen, who was sitting next to Candeloro, who in turn was sitting next to Oktavia. The four of them were playing Sexy Street Smarts 3: All-Out Rampage, a popular sidescrolling beat-em-up. It was one of Ophelia and Oktavia’s favorite games to co-op, but while Homulilly, Gretchen, and especially Candeloro weren’t really into that kind of video game, it did prove to be effective therapy to help Candeloro relearn how to use her fingers, so it was becoming a regular group activity.

Though she was mainly participating for Candeloro’s sake, Homulilly had to admit that she was having a good time. The game cut right to the chase in letting the players beat up as many bizarre enemies as possible, and she was finding it to be incredibly cathartic. If she had known that video games could be such a great way to work out her feelings of frustration and aggression, she would have given them a shot a long time ago. Maybe she would start joining Ophelia and Oktavia on their own playthroughs more regularly.

Gretchen, however, was experiencing the opposite effect. Even though they were playing on the easiest difficulty, they were still struggling for every small bit of progress, and it was making her increasingly agitated. And after losing to the level-2 boss, again, she finally burst out with, “Oktavia, again! I thought you knew how to play!”

“I do know how to play!” Oktavia groused. “But I’m used to using the mental wand! These retro controllers are a nightmare!”

“Welcome to my world,” Candeloro said, though not unkindly. She did seem to be enjoying the experience, despite their consistent failure.

“All right, let’s try this again,” Homulilly said. She felt that she had a bead on the boss’s attack pattern and had a strategy she wanted to try. “Now, this time-”

The front door swung open, and Ophelia entered the house.

Everyone quieted down. Ophelia had been handling most of the fallout from their recent ordeal, most of which involved keeping a lid on Candeloro’s situation until they figured out what they were going to do while also trying to track down Charlotte, but there were so some other loose threads that needed tending to.

And judging by the grim look in her eyes, one of them had just come untied.

“Hey,” she said to the group. “I’ve got…some news.”

Homulilly swallowed. She knew that tone.

“Any of it good?” Oktavia said.

“No.”

“Any of it we can just not hear?”

“No.”

Candeloro hands were shaking as she carefully set her controller down. “All right,” she said. “Go ahead.”

Ophelia stuck her hands in her pockets and started rocking back and forth on her heels. “Okay, the first thing to talk about is that they found Charlotte’s phone.”

“The one that sank?”

“That’s the one. And wouldn’t you know it? It still works. You ask me, they should start using that for their commercials. ‘Still operable even after nearly a week at the bottom of the sea.’” She sighed. “Unfortunately, it looks like she anticipated that, and already had the thing remotely wiped.”

“Oh,” Gretchen said. The others said nothing at all.

“Yup. Anyway, I called Corbit Fausk. She hasn’t heard from her either, neither has anyone else at the publishing house or the library.”

“Oh.”

Ophelia looked down at her hard boots. “And I made a stop at the bank. Her account was cleared out yesterday.”

That one hurt. The gang had a large communal account that they all poured money into, one that was intended for bills, food, emergencies, group trips, and that sort of thing. But they each also had a personal account set aside for whatever they wanted. To avoid potential squabbling, they had agreed from the beginning to keep them private instead of sharing among the couples. So far it had worked out fine.

Clearly, it was working too well.

“She really is gone,” Oktavia said in a small voice.

Candeloro slowly stood up. “I’m sorry guys,” she said. “But I don’t feel like playing anymore.”

No one said anything as she headed for the stairs, her steps heavy. Ophelia stood with her head down until Candeloro passed by her.

“Candy,” Ophelia said suddenly. “It’s not your fault. You understand that, right?”

Candeloro paused, one hand on the bannister. Then she placed the other on Ophelia’s shoulder, gave it a light squeeze, and started walking upstairs.

Ophelia sighed and walked away without a word. They heard the back door open and close with a slam.

“I’m out,” Oktavia said. “Maybe next time we’ll get that bastard.”

Homulilly and Gretchen watched as she eased herself into her mechanical chair and then made her way out back as well. After a bit, Homulilly craned her neck to look out the back window.

Ophelia was slouching in one of the lawn chairs, her face in one hand and a beer in the other. Oktavia was parked next to her. They seemed to be talking, but she couldn’t hear the specifics.

Sighing, Homulilly exited out of the game.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Gretchen said in a small voice. She had drawn up all her wires and had them looped around her hips. “I mean, no matter what happened, they would always stick together. It was just the way things were.”

Homulilly could not disagree. As much as she couldn’t stand Hitomi, at least she had understandable reasons for behaving the way she had. And when confronted, she would stand her ground and try to plead her case. What excuse did Charlotte have to for completely breaking herself off?

“I just wish there was something we could do,” Gretchen continued.

“Me too,” Homulilly said as she slouched back into the couch. “But what though? Ophelia knows this city backward and forward, while we barely ever been out of the FIB’s protected zone on our own. And she’s been fishing all around for her.”

“Maybe we could get them to hire a private detective?” Gretchen suggested.

“Maybe. But what good would that do? It’s not like Charlotte’s broken any laws. If she doesn’t want to talk to us then she won’t! And she doesn’t!”

“I don’t know,” Gretchen sighed. “I just feel so useless.”

Homulilly did too. But she couldn’t think of what it might be. Post something online? That would just risk outing Candeloro. Go to the marshals? Same issue. Besides, for all they knew Charlotte had already left town. If she had gone to one of the other territories then she was well outside of their reach.

But there had to be something! What good was it living in a city of magic if she couldn’t think of even one trick that would-

Suddenly Homulilly’s eyes got very wide.

“Hang on,” she said, sitting straight up. “I just got an idea.”

She had. It was very risky, not just to them but toward the person she was thinking of, and odds were that they wouldn’t even be able to make contact with her, much less get the go-ahead to try.

But if they could…

“What is it?” Gretchen said. “What did you think of?”

“Er, you know that little issue you and I have right now? The one we’re going out of our way not to talk about?”

There was a pause, and then Gretchen said, “Er, no?”

Homulilly sighed. “I mean how you want to stay friends with Hitomi while I still want to smack the green out of her hair?”

“Uh…okay? That’s…disturbing, but what about it?”

Homulilly felt a small smile start to form. “I think I just figured out how she can pay us back.”

…

“Absolutely not!”

Homulilly wasn’t at all surprised by Dr. Cynthia’s reaction to their request, though she was more than a little frustrated by it.

She and Gretchen had elected to go to the FIB in person to plead their case, and since Dr. Cynthia had been their block’s counselor/therapist, they had gone to her in hopes that the familiarity would better their chances. Unfortunately, though the motorcyclian witch had been more than happy to see them, when they had explained the nature of what they wanted, her demeanor had changed immediately.

“I…I know it’s unconventional,” Gretchen said. “But-”

“Gretchen, no. I understand you have complicated feelings toward Hitomi, but after everything that’s happened, there is no chance that she’s leaving this building, much less with the very people that she ought to be avoiding! Building trust with a new arrival is already a tumultuous affair, and given everything that’s happened giving Hitomi any sort of a day pass to just go wherever is completely out of the question!”

“But this is important!” Homulilly cried. “We need her help!”

Dr. Cynthia raised one chrome eyebrow. “For what, exactly?”

Homulilly and Gretchen exchanged looks. They had already discussed how much would be safe to tell and had come to no real agreement. “S-S-Someone we care a lot about disappeared,” Homulilly said. “And we can’t find her. But Hitomi can take us right to her!”

“Haven’t you talked to the marshals? Finding missing people is their job, especially after a disaster like that storm!”

Homulilly sighed. “She’s not missing, she ran away. It was…because of something that Hitomi did. Something changed, and she couldn’t handle it, so she ran away without saying anything to us, and we just want to find her so we could talk to her.”

Gretchen flinched at that. Homulilly knew how she felt. She might have just revealed too much with that alone.

Still, it seemed to help. Dr. Cynthia’s face softened. “Ran away. You mean, someone from your gang?”

“We can’t you more than that,” Homulilly said. “I’m really sorry, but it’s very, very private. I mean, it’s not our secret to tell, and we’re taking a big risk just by telling you this much.”

“Please,” Gretchen begged. “We promise we won’t do anything to put us or Hitomi in danger. We’re just going to pop in wherever our missing friend is and try to talk some sense into her and then we’ll bring Hitomi right back. It won’t even take half-an-hour, probably even less!”

Dr. Cynthia sighed. “Girls, I’m sorry, but unless you’re willing to tell me more, the answer is still no. I understand how rough things must be for you right now, and I do want to help however I can, but Hitomi is under our care right now, and her needs must come first. And right now, she is far too fragile mentally and emotionally to just be used as a transportation service! Especially since you don’t even know where she’ll be taking you!”

“But part of the reason she’s so upset is guilt, right?” Homulilly pressed. “So if she helps us with this, won’t that help her, knowing that she did us a major favor and all?”

Dr. Cynthia gave her a cold look. “Homulilly, I know that’s not how you meant it, but that is emotional blackmail.”

Homulilly hadn’t thought of that. “Oh.”

“What if we promise to have her back in ten minutes?” Gretchen said.

“No, Gretchen.”

“But-”

Dr. Cynthia stood up. “Gretchen. Homulilly. Again, I am sorry, but the answer is no. You are not taking Hitomi Shizuki off to God knows where. Not now, not for a long time. And that’s the end of it.”

Homulilly opened her mouth to argue, but Gretchen nudged her ankle with a couple of wires.

“All right,” Gretchen said. “We understand. Thank you for hearing us out at least.”

The two of them didn’t speak the whole way out of the FIB. In fact, they didn’t talk until they were well outside of the safe zone that surrounded the facility, just to be safe.

When they felt that they were off the grid, Gretchen said, “Well, that didn’t work. Plan B?”

Homulilly nodded. “Plan B.”

…

“You know something, Gretchen?” Mitty said. “This is weird. This is like, really weird. I mean, I can’t count the number of times I tried to get you to sneak out with me and my friends to have a little fun. I mean, I’ve always thought you were cool, but my God, you were such a goody-goody that I was starting to think that you would never get in touch with your inner rebel. But only a little over one week after we graduate and you’re free to do whatever you want, you come to me asking for my help to sneak back in.”

Gretchen looked down at the ground. “I know it sounds very strange, but-”

“Strange doesn’t even begin to cover it. You’re like one of those animals that’s lived its whole life in a tiny little cage in a zoo, and all soon as it’s released back into the wild, it gets scared and runs back into the cage!”

Homulilly was starting to lose her patience. “You know it’s not for her. Now, are you going to help us or not?”

At this, Mitty grinned. “Are you kidding! Hell yeah! Finally Gretchen does something a little naughty. How could I not help?”

“I have literally had sex before you did,” Gretchen said.

“Ha! No you didn’t. Believe it or not, I did have a life before I died. But anyway, here’s what you need to know.”

Gretchen and Homulilly’s reasoning went as follows: the FIB may serve as a rehabilitation and integration program, but it also served to help the newly arrived completed their prematurely-terminated schooling. And as such, its residents would often get into the same kind of shenanigans that most teenagers would find attractive.

They had heard many stories about their older friends’ time in the program: parties, sneaking out past curfew, and taking part in a thriving black market of contraband, which mostly consisted of various forms of alcohol and other narcotics. As they understood it, the FIB was actually aware of most of the stuff that went on but tended to turn a blind eye to it, only stepping in when someone’s safety was compromised. And though Gretchen and Homulilly had never really done anything to get themselves into trouble, they were aware that such things still happened very regularly, and probably would continue to do so as long as the FIB existed.

As such, if such a system to help sneak things in and people out was still in place, what better way to get back into the FIB and find Hitomi than going to the people who did that sort of thing all the time? And even though Mitty had also recently graduated, she still had friends on the inside who hadn’t.

The three of them were meeting at a rooftop burger joint down the block from Mitty and Alyssa’s apartment. The place had ample shading from tall trees and shrubs growing from planters to provide them a decent amount of privacy, and according to Mitty, the owner was actually in on the black market and had made a pretty penny helping the students acquire quite a bit of cheap alcohol sold to them at a premium price. It was sort of funny when Homulilly thought about it. Even in death, petty corruption was still everywhere.

“Okay,” Mitty said, spreading a map over their table. “Now, I’m pretty sure I can get you in without…too much trouble. Getting out’s going to be harder, especially since you were dumb enough to go let them know that you wanted to get in in the first place.”

Homulilly sighed.

“Anyway, getting the cameras to conveniently ignore certain areas is pretty easy. But I can’t promise you more than an hour. Anything you have to do, make sure it gets done in that amount of time. Got it?”

Homulilly did. “What if we get caught?”

“Then you’re boned. Um, no offense.”

“None taken. So, there’s no contingency plans at all?”

Mitty shrugged. “Hey, it’s a risky thing you’re doing. You knew that going in.”

“Right. Okay, so what do you have for us?”

“Well, getting in without arousing suspicions isn’t going to be a problem. People visit all the time, so all you really need is a visitor’s pass, and they pretty much just hand those out. It’s actually getting to where your friend is being kept that’ll be the problem.” Mitty pointed to a point on her map. “Now, my friend Kitty still volunteers in the records room, and she say that you’re actually in luck: Hitomi isn’t in the underground ward. But she is still kind of isolated in Dorm Block D.”

Hitomi was familiar with it. Dorm Block D split the difference between the underground ward and the normal dorms, reserved for those who probably did not present a violent threat but still needed to have an eye kept on them. She supposed that this was the compromise they had struck with her.

She glanced over to Gretchen, who looked pretty uncomfortable. “This…I don’t know, this could really screw things up for her,” Gretchen said. “What if we get her in so much trouble that she gets sent back underground?”

That was a problem. Sure, a few days ago Homulilly would have been in full support of Hitomi being locked up in as small a space as possible, but wishing that on her out of anger was one thing. Having that happen to her as a consequence for doing them a tremendous favor was something else entirely.

“We’ll take the fall,” Homulilly said. “It’ll be our fault anyway.”

Mitty raised an eyebrow. “Well, that’s noble and all, but what if that doesn’t work?”

“I…” Homulilly spread her hands. “I don’t know. We don’t exactly have a lot of options here, unless you know someone who can find anyone, anywhere and take us to them in an instant.”

Mitty shook her head. “Nople Dople. My whole schtick involves walking on shit that I shouldn’t be walking on. The closest that I can think of is my downstairs neighbor, who can literally smell fear, believe it or not. She literally sprays her place with like vanilla or something to block it out. Anyway, pretty much anyone I know who has powers can do things that are good for short-term combat and not much else.”

“Same.” Homulilly shook her head. There was a certain bitter irony in all this. What they were attempting stood to screw things up for a lot of people, but they were going to do it anyway for the sake of their friends. When viewed through that lens, maybe she had been a little too harsh on Hitomi.

Well, fine. If healing Candeloro’s heartbreak made her a hypocrite, then it was a label she was just going to have to get used to. “All right. What’s next?”

Mitty looked down to her map. “To get into Dorm Block D, you’re going to need someone on the inside. And as it so happens, some of the girls there aren’t really social at the moment, so they have their meals taken to them in the privacy of their rooms. And as it so happens, the person responsible for doing that so happens to owe me a favor or two.” She paused for a moment for dramatic effect, and then said, “A very big favor or two…”

…

“This feels so weird,” Gretchen mumbled as she and Homulilly walked through the halls of the FIB.

“What is?” Homulilly whispered back. She scratched the back of the cap she had on to disguise her flower. She really wished that they could just use some kind of illusion magic, but Mitty had said that tended to attract attention. “The fact that we’re breaking into the only real home we’ve ever known, or that you have to walk like a normal person?”

Gretchen tugged at the caretaker uniform she was wearing. To avoid attracting attention, she had wound and re-wound her wires into the shape of a pair of legs just to fit the pants. It was something she had done in the past as a joke, but walking long-term with it meant that Homulilly had to keep one hand on her arm to help her with her balance. “Both. So very much both.”

“Shut. Up,” Sasha hissed at the two out of the corner of her mouth. “Both of you. Shut up.”

Sasha was one of the increasingly worrying number of contacts that Mitty had “on the inside.” She had been a year under then, and was the equivalent of a student-intern. Apparently, the year she had started working toward a job with the FIB, she had done “something” that would have gotten her into “a great amount of trouble.” The specifics of all that, Mitty refused to say, though she did have trouble keeping from giggling. Regardless, Mitty had helped her cover up her indiscretion, whatever that had been, in exchange for the promise of a future favor of her choosing.

Despite her harsh order for silence, Sasha herself would not stop mumbling the whole way. “Figures, just figures,” she said under her breath while wheeling a car of covered meals. “She wants me to do something that’ll get me fired. She saves my ass only to roast it. Can’t believe this, I thought it was over after she graduated, it’s just my luck.”

Gretchen said, “Could this really get you-”

“I said quiet!”

Gretchen shut up.

Finally they got to the last room, where Hitomi was supposedly staying. Taking a deep breath, Sasha knocked on the door.

Several seconds ticked by. Fresh sweat beads broke out across Homulilly’s forehead.

Then Hitomi’s voice said from the other side, “Who is it?”

“Dinner!” Sasha said. “And…uh, your…mail.”

“Is it them?”

Sasha sighed. “Yes. Yes, yes, yes. Like I told you. Now, please open the door.”

The door rattled as Hitomi fiddled with the locks. Then it opened a crack to reveal the girl in question peering through.

Gretchen half-smiled, half-cringed, and waved.

The door opened the rest of the way. “Okay. Come in, then,” Hitomi said.

“Move,” Sasha said, pushing the Homulilly and Gretchen inside. Then, before she shut the door behind them, she said, “Remember, you guys got forty minutes, tops.”

The door shut, leaving Homulilly and Gretchen alone with Hitomi.

Hitomi looked…well, she looked tired. She was wearing the standard FIB uniform, but it was rumpled and missing the tie. Her hair was washed but uncombed, and the bags under her eyes had not cleared up.

However, she no longer looked as anxious as Hitomi remembered. She wasn’t shaking like she had been, her eyes had stopped flitting this way and that, and she no longer looked ready to bolt at the first unexpected sound. She was still a mess, but clearly a mess in recovery.

Which made Homulilly’s reservations about what they were about to ask all the louder. Unfortunately, it was way too late to pull out.

“So,” Hitomi said. “What is this about?” She looked to Gretchen. “Because don’t get me wrong, I am glad to see you, but seeing how you kind of snuck in here after telling me that it might be a while before you’re allowed to visit has me worried.” Then she frowned. “Wait, do you have…legs?”

Gretchen slithered the end of one of her wires out of the bottom of her pant leg. “No, it’s a disguise.”

“Oh. Wow, that’s…really disturbing.” Then Homulilly motioned limply toward Homulilly. “Also, you brought the person that hates me the most, after promising me that she won’t show up in my room to try to kill me. So that’s…that’s happening.”

Gretchen swallowed. “I’m sorry, but we need your help.”

“Okay,” Hitomi said after a pause. She glanced over to Homulilly.

“We do,” Homulilly confirmed. “But, um, you’re probably not going to like it.”

“Huh,” Hitomi said. It was then that Homulilly noticed something else that was new. Hitomi was wearing a pair of thick green gloves on her hands, and she was wearing a necklace that had what like a fat, green guitar-pick shaped thing at the end, one that was made from rubber and had several teeth marks already in it, no doubt to help her to break her finger-chewing habit. Homulilly, who had also worn gloves for a long time due to her own anxiety problems, couldn’t help but wince in sympathy.

Sighing, Hitomi walked over to a nearby chair and sat down. “Okay,” she said. “Go ahead.”

Well, here went nothing. Clearing her throat, Gretchen stepped forward to make her request.

…

Roughly three minutes later…

As expected, Hitomi was quite incredulous.

“You want me to do what?”

Homulilly gritted her teeth. She reminded herself that she really, really needed Hitomi to do something that would probably get her in trouble. Diplomacy was needed here, not screaming.

But wow, she really, really wanted to scream.

Taking a deep breath, she said in a slow and deliberate tone, “I need you to take us to our friend Charlotte.”

Hitomi, it should be noted, did not share her opinion on self-control. “Are you serious? I’m already in trouble for running away and messing with you guys. They made me promise not to use any magic for at a least half-a-year, and I did! And you already yelled at me lots for all that. Now you want to do it again? Are you crazy?”

“Hitomi, I’m really sorry, I know it doesn’t make any sense, but we wouldn’t be asking you this if it wasn’t very, very, very important,” Gretchen said. She looked just as anxious as Homulilly felt, if her shaking wires and arms were any indication. “Charlotte’s run away, and we can’t find her, but you can!”

“Can’t you call her?” Hitomi said. “Don’t you have her number?”

“She switched phones and emptied her account,” Homulilly said through clenched teeth.

“Why? Why would she do something like that?”

Homulilly and Gretchen glanced at one another. “We…can’t tell you that,” Gretchen said.

“Really?” Hitomi said flatly. “You want me to get into more trouble and you won’t even tell me why?”

“It’s not our secret to tell,” Gretchen said. “I’m sorry, but-”

“Something big happened during the fight with the karnuk,” Homulilly cut in. “Something that Charlotte couldn’t handle, so she ran off.”

“What? What happened?”

“We told you, we can’t tell you! We can’t tell anyone!”

Hitomi gaped at them. “B-But that’s not fair! I’m trying to follow your rules, I’m trying to fit in, but now you just show up to tell me to start breaking them again, and you won’t even tell me why?”

“Hitomi, I’m sorry, I know it isn’t fair, but this is the kind of secret that can really hurt someone we care a lot about,” Gretchen said in a small but quick voice. “We’ll take all the blame, but please! We really need your help!”

“What could possibly be so bad that it caused all this?” Hitomi said. “I thought you all were super-tight with one another!”

Homulilly sighed. “So did we.” She shook her head. Okay, fine. Emotional blackmail it was. “Okay, listen: you know how I kind of hate you?”

“Homulilly!” Gretchen said in shock.

She wasn’t the only one. Hitomi flinched back as if Homulilly had taken a swing at her. Homulilly, however, didn’t have time to mince words.

“Well?”

Clearly shaken, Hitomi said, “Yes. I, uh, kind of figured that out when you started screaming and tried to attack me.”

“Well, okay. This thing happened as a direct result of what I was mad at you about. But if you do this one thing for us, then we’re square. Everything will be fine between us. I might even start sending you Christmas cards!”

“I…” Hitomi ran one shaking hand through her hair while the other started to move toward her mouth, index finger already crooked. She then glanced at her gloved hand and stuck the rubber thing on her necklace into her mouth. “I, uh…”

Gretchen grabbed her free hand. “Hitomi, I’m really sorry we put you in this situation, but it really is that important.”

“But I’ll get into trouble again!” Hitomi cried. “They’ll send me back underground!”

“If we get caught, we’ll probably get in trouble the most,” Homulilly said, even if she wasn’t exactly sure if that was true. “Just blame everything on us, we’ll take all the responsibility.”

“Do you really know for a fact if that’ll work?!”

“I promise, we’ll do everything in our power-”

Hitomi leapt to her feet. “Do you know for a fact?!”

“No, Hitomi! We don’t! Yes, we know this is super risky. Yes, we know we don’t have any right to ask this of you. But we gotta! So please, just…yes or no?”

Hitomi stared at her, then at Gretchen, and then back at her. Then she sighed and started pacing back and forth from one end of the room to the other, chewing on her rubber pendant and mumbling to herself as she went.

Homulilly opened to her mouth to point out that time was of the essence and that they needed an answer now, but Gretchen place a hand on her shoulder and shook her head. Though the anxiety made Homulilly feel ready to explode, she clamped her mouth shut.

Finally Hitomi stopped pacing. “All right,” she said. “Yes.”

Homulilly very nearly cheered out loud, but then Hitomi added, “On one condition.”

Ice water flooded Homulilly’s gut. “What?” she said.

“I want you to tell me what the big secret is.”

It was exactly as Homulilly had feared. “We can’t,” she said. “We told you. It isn’t our-”

“You want me to risk getting sent back to Hell to help your friend,” Hitomi said. “Okay. I understand. I would probably do the same. But if I’m going to be involved, then I’m going to be involved all the way.”

“But if we tell you, then what’s to stop you from telling everyone else?” Homulilly demanded. “Okay, you can promise that you’ll keep quiet, but what if they make you tell? If this gets out, then-”

“It was Mami Tomoe, wasn’t it?”

“-aaaaaa…” The words died in Homulilly’s throat. At her side, Gretchen’s dark pink skin turned a few shades brighter.

“I knew it,” Hitomi muttered. “Something happened during the storm, when you guys were fighting that sea monster. Something changed, something big enough to make everyone act all strange and worried, something that nobody wanted me to know. But what could it be? Well, I’ve been doing some reading. Like you said, only eight witches are known to have ever turned back to normal, and one of them happens to be in town, at your guys’ museum, so there’s a lot of material on that. And the only thing that any of them have in common is that each and every one happened during very stressful circumstances, and that none of them could remember what kicked off the change.” Her emerald gaze bored right into Homulilly’s stunned violet eyes. “And you guys all said that you had a weird dream that you can’t remember but somehow changed everything. Plus, it follows you fighting a sea monster in the middle of a giant storm. That sounds pretty stressful to me. So, what kind of major change checks all the boxes? Well, how about one of you witches turning back into your old self, probably to save the rest? But who could it be? It’s obviously not you two, and it’s not Ophelia or Oktavia. That leaves Charlotte and Candeloro. From there it was a guess.”

It was clear that Homulilly had really underestimated Hitomi. Sure, she had done a lot of pigheadedly reckless things lately, but she was a lot smarter than Homulilly had given her credit for.

Gretchen stepped forward. “Yes, you’re right,” she said. “That’s what happened. But Candeloro is really messed up because of all her new memories, and Charlotte freaked out because she thinks that means that the old Candeloro is gone and it’s now only Mami Tomoe, so she ran away and we need to go find her because Candeloro’s really, really hurt right now and really needs her! Because she really is still Candeloro with all those memories still there, but the change was big enough to scare her wife away!”

Hitomi frowned. “You’re still calling her Candeloro? I thought you guys were really weird about real names.”

“She wants to still be called that,” Gretchen said. “She’s just…used to it, I guess.”

“Also, you cannot under any circumstances tell anyone for any reason!” Homulilly quickly added. “If this gets out, then she’ll have hordes of people wanting to talk to her, wanting to study her, wanting to touch her, wanting to pretty much suffocate her! And trust me, she does not need that right now!”

“Oh my God,” Hitomi breathed as she sat back down in her chair. “I can’t believe it! This is so…”

“Unfair? That she came back and Madoka and Sayaka didn’t?” Homulilly finished for her. “Yes! Yes, it is! Everything about all this is unfair to everyone! But we have a chance to maybe fix this one thing, and we need your help to do it. So for the love of God, yes or no?!”

Hitomi swallowed. “There’s…basically no chance of it happening again to any of you, is there?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Gretchen said. “If it would have happened, it would have happened during that dream. I’m pretty sure that door is shut.”

Hitomi nodded. “Yeah. I thought so.”

There was something kind of heartbreaking in her voice, something that even Homulilly took note of. In the small, simple sentence, she could practically hear Hitomi giving up on her last hope of getting her friends back as she remembered them.

Which was more than Homulilly could do. She had really underestimated Hitomi.

“Well, I made a deal,” Hitomi said as she stood up. “Let’s…get this over with.”

Hitomi held out her hand. Emerald sparks scattered, and she was holding her lime-green umbrella.

“I never transported anyone other than myself before,” she said as she popped open the canopy. “So I don’t know how well this will work.”

“It worked okay on the karnuk,” Gretchen said. “And that thing was the size of a house!”

“True. But even so, you’d better hold my hand, just to be safe.”

Gretchen nodded and took Hitomi’s free hand and then she grabbed onto Homulilly’s. Hitomi held her umbrella up high and glanced back at her two passengers.

Homulilly nodded toward her. “Thank you,” she said.

Hitomi looked as taken back by her appreciation as she had by her earlier open confession to hatred. “Uh…okay,” she said in response. Then she looked up to the umbrella.

“Okay, you know how this works,” she said to her tool. “We want to go to Charlotte, but not right at her! Somewhere nearby, but also safe and out of sight!”

The area beneath the umbrella’s canopy started to glow bright green. Gretchen instinctively closed her eyes in anticipation. Homulilly didn’t. She wasn’t any less nervous, but she also didn’t want to face what was coming with her eyes shut.

…

The good news was that it worked, though it was as weird as Homulilly expected. The umbrella’s handle was literally yanked into the glowing canopy, hauling the three of them in with it. From there Homulilly’s vision filled with nothing but a crackling green light as she felt a sensation akin to rushing through a narrow tunnel.

Then they were out. She and Gretchen took several stumbling steps forward before they were brought to a stop by a wall.

“Woo,” Gretchen breathed as she held a hand to the wall for support. “That was weird.”

Hitomi was the only one who had kept her balance. “Sorry, I forgot to tell you. You have to sort of dig in your heels to keep from tripping.”

“Well, it worked, and that’s the important thing.” Homulilly looked around. “Er, where are we?”

They seemed to be in the hall of some seedy motel, the kind with peeling paint jobs, malfunctioning lights that nobody ever bothered to replace, and cigarette buttes showing up in odd places. Behind one door they could hear someone watching cartoons very, very loudly, and from another down the hall someone was having a one-sided shouting match, likely on the phone. What it was about Homulilly couldn’t tell, save that the amount of profanity would make Cheese blush.

There was a nearby exit, and Hitomi sidled up to it and looked out. “Wow, this place is really run down,” she remarked. “Um, I think we’re in that nasty part of your town.”

“Old Town?” Homulilly had never actually been to the part of Freehaven that tourists were never shown, but she knew it existed. To tell the truth, its existence had always been kind of mind-boggling to her. If they had the means and more than enough time to address the problems that caused its creation, why didn’t they?

“Why is she here?” Gretchen said.

“Probably because it’s easier to hide,” Homulilly said. She looked around. “Is she in one of these rooms?”

“No, she’s outside,” Hitomi said. She pointed toward the door. “See? Over there.”

Homulilly and Gretchen both went over to check. Sure enough, outside led to a sort of courtyard, one with an empty pool filled with graffiti and a couple of cheap metal cafeteria tables. Charlotte was there, sitting at one of the tables with her back to the door while she flipped through what was probably her new phone.

Got her.

“Okay Hitomi, would you be okay in hanging back while we talk to her?” Gretchen said.

“Sure. I mean, if someone starts bugging me then I’m going to split. I don’t really feel like getting mugged.”

“Fine, fine. Come on.”

They went through the halls until they found the hotel lobby. It was kind of cheap but at least clean. The receptionist was a white girl with a very thin face with a nose ring and pink hair that looked like it needed washing. She was slouching in her chair, fast asleep.

“Can you wait here?” Homulilly said. “If she wakes up, just tell her that you’re waiting for a Zipper.”

“A what?”

“It’s kind of like a taxi,” Gretchen explained. “Only unmanned. And it flies.”

Shaking her head, Hitomi sat down in a corner chair. “You guys really need to decide if this place is science-fiction or fantasy.”

“No, we don’t,” Homulilly said. “Just…hang out here. We’ll be back.”

They hurried back to where Charlotte was sitting. Fortunately, she hadn’t moved. Homulilly stealthily opened the door and the two made their way toward her.

Charlotte must have recognized the sound of their footsteps. The patter of Gretchen’s wires was pretty distinctive, after all. She suddenly straightened up as they approached. But before she could turn fully around, Homulilly and Gretchen quickly sat down on either side of her.

“Hi, Charly,” Homulilly said.

Charlotte sputtered. “Wha-Huh? What the fuck are you guys doing here?!”

“Guess.”

“What? How?” Charlotte looked back and forth between their twin glares of disapproval before slumping forward, her face in her hands. “Oh, shit!”

“How did you guys find me?” she said after a beat, her voice muffled by her palms.

“We had help,” Homulilly said. “But I think the better question is: what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Charlotte’s arms slowly dropped down from her face, though she still refused to meet their eyes. “What do you think?” she said.

“You’re leaving us,” Gretchen said.

“Well, there you go. You figured it out.” Charlotte started to rise. “Now go away. I have a flight to catch.”

Homulilly seized her by the shoulder and shoved her back down again. “No, I don’t think so. Sit!”

“Let me go, Homulilly,” Charlotte said, pulling away from her.

“No. Gretchen?”

Gretchen wrapped four of her legs around Charlotte’s waist and the rest anchored the two of them to the bench.

“There,” Homulilly said. “Now you’re going to talk to us.”

Charlotte’s alabaster face was turning a bright shade of pink. “What is there to talk about?” she demanded. “Don’t you get it? I’m leaving! That’s all there is to it!”

“And why is that?”

“Are you being stupid on purpose? You already know why!”

“Yeah,” Homulilly said. “But if you say it out loud, we have something to go off of.”

Charlotte slammed her palms onto the tabletop. “This is ridiculous!”

“Any less ridiculous than you just abandoning your family?” Gretchen said in a low voice. “Just because you can’t handle change?”

“Hey, you don’t get to lecture me!” Charlotte said, pressing an accusing finger into Gretchen’s chest. “You didn’t lose the person you love the most!”

Gretchen swatted her finger away. “And neither did you! Candeloro isn’t gone!”

“Yes, she is.”

“Uh, no she isn’t?”

“Yes! She! Is!” Charlotte snapped, pounding the table with both fists to punctuate each word. “Why can’t you two get that through your heads? Candeloro isn’t Mami Tomoe, and Mami Tomoe isn’t Candeloro! Witches are born out of Puella Magi, we aren’t really them, I don’t care what the textbooks say! We’re born from them, and then they’re trapped sleeping inside us! That’s why their memories hurt us! ”

Homulilly stared at her in disbelief. “That is…a whole lot of bullcrap. And you know it’s bullcrap.”

“She’s right,” Gretchen said. “I mean, you knew it too! We’ve talked about our past selves before and you never thought anything like that before.”

“Well, I think it now. And that’s the end of it.”

“You can’t…argh!” Homulilly slapped a bony palm across her own face. “She literally still has all the same memories as before! Even if you are right, Mami Tomoe didn’t replace Candeloro, they just got combined into one person or whatever!”

“Call it whatever you want, I don’t-”

“No! Stop talking!” Homulilly leaned in so that she was looking the older girl in the eye. “You know, we’ve been giving Hitomi Shizuki all sorts of crap for…for not accepting the way things are, for not listening and making a bunch of bad decisions that hurt people, but she had way more reason than you ever did! She at least lost her family, her boyfriend, her home, her hopes and dream, and all the rest of her friends, and when she did meet two people that she knew, they didn’t even remember her! And at least she finally did start listening! You? You lost nothing! You’re just so scared of having things change that you won’t even give the new Candeloro a chance to prove herself! You’re going to throw away your home and family because…of what? Are you some kind of witch supremacist?”

Charlotte looked angrier than Homulilly had ever seen her. “How…how dare you accuse me of…you don’t know what it’s like to-”

The slap happened so quickly and so suddenly that Charlotte didn’t even register the impact until nearly three seconds after. It wasn’t even across the face, but instead hit her upside the back of her head, barely enough to hurt.

But she had not been expecting it, especially not from the one who had given it, and it shocked her voiceless.

Truth be told, Homulilly couldn’t blame her. She was kind of shocked as well. And judging by the way her hand was shaking as she lowered it, Gretchen was just as taken back by her own action as they were.

But that didn’t stop her. “Ch-Charlotte,” she said. Her voice was trembling a little but she pressed on. “You’ve always been the one to confront the truth as it is, no matter how hard it is. You’ve never tolerated lies or nonsense or anything. And the truth is that there’s someone who loves you more than anything who’s going through the scariest part of her life right now, and she’s hurt deeply because you won’t even talk to her. The thing that’s scaring her is also driving you away. Don’t you see how hurtful that is?”

Charlotte gingerly rubbed the stinging spot on the back of her head. She said nothing.

“Also, we don’t really understand how she managed to change, but we do know why. She changed because we were in danger. She changed because you were in danger. She sacrificed who she was to save us. And this is how you thank her?”

With a soft moan, Charlotte slumped forward, her face in her hands again. Her shoulders were starting to tremble, and Homulilly could hear her breathing started to shudder.

Homulilly and Gretchen silently watched her cry. Normally this would be the part where they would both envelop their hurting friend in a big hug to try to take some of the pain away, but these were far from normal circumstances.

Instead, Homulilly just stood up. She nodded at Gretchen, who slowly unwound her legs from Charlotte, freeing her. The older witch didn’t seem to notice.

“You know, I’m starting to think that maybe Ophelia was wrong earlier,” Homulilly said. “You know, back when you came back to tell us everything you learned from Hitomi? Remember how she said that it didn’t matter how things were back in the old world, that you were still as much a part of the family as anyone else? I’m thinking that she was wrong. It does matter, but only to you, and the second someone remembered enough about all that, somehow a handful of months in another world became more important than sixteen years here.” She started to walk away. “But if you actually want to stop being a coward and take your own advice for once, you know where to go. We’ll be waiting.”

She walked off. Gretchen lingered next to Charlotte for a bit longer before hurrying after Homulilly.

They almost reached the door when Charlotte shouted after them, “All right, all right! I’ll talk to her! Jesus!”

Homulilly sighed with relief. “Thank you,” she said over her shoulder. “Call home as soon as possible.”

“Do you think we were a little too hard on her?” Gretchen said once they were inside.

Homulilly shook her head. “Not a bit. She would have done the same thing.”

“True. I hope it works.”

Homulilly did too. Sighing, she reached up to take Gretchen’s hand, and the two of them returned to the hotel lobby.

Thankfully, Hitomi was still there, huddled in a corner and trying to make herself look inconspicuous by reading a travel magazine, or at least that had probably been the original plan. The magazine itself looked at least four years out of date, but the information was all brand new to her, and she was reading with something not unlike religious awe.

“Hey,” Homulilly said as they approached her.

Hitomi jumped a bit in surprise. “Oh! Uh, are we done?”

“Yeah. We’re done.” Homulilly tilted her head toward the hallway. “Come on. Let’s get out of sight.”

Clutching her umbrella to her chest, Hitomi got up to follow. As they did, Homulilly glanced back to the receptionist. She still seemed to be fast asleep, but who really could tell?

“So, did it work?” Hitomi asked as they walked together.

“I hope so,” Gretchen said softly.

“We said our piece,” Homulilly added. “She said that she’ll talk to Candeloro at least. We’ll find out if we got through to her soon enough.”

Then she smiled. “Thanks again. I, uh, really appreciate it.”

“Oh.” Hitomi said. “Uh, it’s okay. Can we go back now?”

Homulilly glanced around. The hall seemed to be empty. “Yeah. Let’s go before someone notices that you’ve been gone.”

Hitomi opened up her umbrella, and Gretchen took her hand. “Okay, take us back!” she said.

Again the three of them were pulled into the green light. This time Homulilly and Gretchen were better prepared and managed to keep their feet upon landing.

Blinking the spots away, Homulilly shook her head and rubbed her eyes.

“Oh,” Gretchen said.

“Huh?” Homulilly opened her eyes.

Then she stared.

Other than themselves, Hitomi’s room had been empty when they left, and she had been expecting it to still be so upon arrival.

Now upon reflection, this was a pretty dumb expectation. Even if nobody had noticed them sneaking in, they surely would take notice when the new troublemaker with a reputation for suddenly going AWOL were to, well, suddenly go AWOL again.

The room was filled with FIB staff, most of which Homulilly recognized. And judging by the way they were staring at the trio, they were not happy.

“Uh-oh,” Hitomi said in a small voice. “Uh, maybe I should have worded that better.”

…

“What do you mean, we need to go bail out Gretchen and Homulilly?” Ophelia gawked.

In answer, Oktavia pointed at the phone in her hand. “That’s what I said! Apparently they snuck into the FIB and absconded with Hitomi before bringing her right back!”

“Are you…” Ophelia grabbed her fake skin with both hands. “The fuck is wrong with them? Now? The sweetest sweeties we know go and decide to go get a marshal record now?”

“Dumb motherfuckers!” Cheese called from the other room.

“You said it!”

“Jesus, if they wanted to get in trouble, they could have just asked us,” Oktavia muttered. “I mean, we at least know how to do that safely!”

“Not now, Tavi!” Then Ophelia stiffened. “Wait, why did they go after Hitomi in the first place?”

“Uh, I dunno. Maybe there was some place they wanted to visit in a hurry and couldn’t…wait to just take a…”

Oktavia’s voice trailed off. She and Ophelia looked at one another, their eyes going wide at the exact same time.

Ophelia snatched up her hat from a nearby table. “I’m going to go get them,” she said. “And damn, do they owe us answers.”

Oktavia shrugged and hung up the phone. “Okay, but save some of the interrogating for me.”

As she headed through the kitchen to get her keys off the counter, the phone Oktavia had just hung up started ringing again. As she was now closer, Ophelia rolled her eyes and picked it up. “Yeeeeeessssss?” she hissed through clenched teeth.

For several seconds there was no response, and Ophelia started to wonder if it was a prank call or some kind of glitch in the line.

And then she said, “Ophelia. It’s me.”

Ophelia almost dropped the phone. “Wha…Charlotte?”

“Yes.”

Oktavia, who had been moving her chair into the living room, suddenly stop in her tracks. She nudged the controls to turn her chair around, so Ophelia could see the how pale her face had gotten.

Despite rarely being at a loss for words, Ophelia stammered for several seconds before saying, “Wh-where are you? Charlotte, what’s-”

“Listen. She is still there, right?”

Ophelia didn’t need to ask who “she” was. “Yeah. Yeah, she is. She’s taking a depression nap right now, but-”

“Then tell her this. Tomorrow at noon, at the town square, by the fountain.”

“What?”

“That’s where I’ll be tomorrow if she wants to talk. But just her. Okay?”

Ophelia swallowed. “Uh…”

Charlotte sigh. “I said, okay?!”

“Okay,” Ophelia said. “But hang on, what’s-”

The line went dead.

…

Jesus, I swear this whole arc changes genres every installment.

Also, I am very well aware that Homulilly and Gretchen’s actions have certain…problematic implications. Will deal with those later.

And I’m thinking two more will wrap things up.

Until next time, everyone.