#just like dangerous intersections nobody will do anything until someone dies

[thehealingsystem]

i'm so fucking irritating with this but dear god I want to kill myself so bad. Day after day after day I am reminded of what I am and that I can't fix myself. It's getting worse again and everyday is getting harder to just live through. I don't even know why part of me still imagines things getting better, that people even still care, i'm an obsessive freak that deserves to be put down. Nobody cares if I don't show up the next say or ever again. I destroyed everything even in my attempts to preserve it. I don't do anything with my life, my cutting has gotten worse, I barely eat most days, I cry multiple times a day and cry myself to sleep many nights. I have nightmares literally just about what I experience every day. I layed down on the couch today and cried to myself how much I wanted to die. If I tell anyone this i'm just gonna get in trouble and not actually helped, because that's what happens every single time and no one's gonna believe me when I say there's something wrong with me. I'm trapped and there's no place to go other than hell. there's nothing anyone tumblr is gonna be able to do to help me but I literally have no one to tell. most shit just festers inside me and I can't even articulate what's happening in my head most of the time. even now

[spectraspecs-writes]

Leviathan - Chapter 100

Link to the masterpost. Chapter 99. Chapter 101.

@averruncusho @ceruleanrainblues @chubbsmomma @strangepostmiracle thank you for reading, you get a tag. @skelelexiunderlord thank you for support, you get a tag.

———–

Harder than I thought, it would seem. I haven’t had so many cuts on my hands since I did field work in a prairie full of razor grass. You know, that tall grass that cuts you when you walk thought it? You never bleed from it but it hurts for a long time afterwards. But several cuts and a couple hours later, I manage to get Shaela Nur’s crystal into my blue lightsaber. I started with my purple lightsaber but for the life of my I could not get the crystal into the fitting. And when I went to my blue one, the first time, when I activated the lightsaber the crystal flew out and ricocheted off Davik’s swoop bike and hit me in the head. I guess I’m just not having a good day today. But I think I’ve got it in there nice and tight. I swing my lightsaber around, making sure the crystal won’t fly out and hit somebody else in the head. That would be hilarious but not very easy to fix when I’m away from a workbench. I spin my lightsaber with a flourish.

And I hit something.

Shit, shit, please don’t be a person. I turn around to T3’s panicked beeping. Oh, shit, that’s even worse than a person. “Oh, God, T3, I’m so sorry, are you okay? I had no idea you were in here!” He chirrups and whirs, very discombobulated. “I can fix that, I promise! I am so sorry. Can you still move okay?” He beeps in the affirmative. “Okay, good.” I dig into my pockets for my droid tool kit before I remember I gave it to Carth to hold on to. “Damn it,” I say softly, then look back at T3, “I’m going to grab some parts from the cargo hold. Go to the cockpit, I’ll be right there.” He chirps and whirs off, sparking where I hit him. I hit the secondary power coupling - it’s fixable but it means he’ll have diminished functioning until I can fix it. Which I can do no problem, this isn’t the first time I’ve done it, but I’ve never had to do it because I hit it. I am really not having a good day.

Thankfully, the cargo hold has the parts I need, so I take them into the cockpit. Carth is in there, we’re in hyperspace. “Hey,” he says, “What’s wrong with Teethree?”

“Secondary power coupling, can I have my tool kit back?”

He reaches into his pocket and hands it to me. “Kept it safe, just like you asked,” he says, “What happened? He just rolled in here, sparking.”

T3 turns his head and beeps. I scoff a bit. “Thank you for trying to spare my feelings, T3, but HK had nothing to do with it, it was all me,” I say, “I’m rerouting all functions to your primary coupling, it might tickle a little. No, this was all me, I accidentally hit him with my lightsaber.”

“Anything you can’t fix?” 

“Thankfully, no, I just need to replace the coupling, I’ve done it before.” I gently pry the coupling out with my spanner. “I’ve never had the problem be my fault before, but…” I sigh. “I’m almost done, I just have to fasten this into place.”

“Why don’t you stick around when you’re done?” Carth says, “I could use a copilot.”

I smile at him. “I appreciate the invitation but I’m not sure you’d want me,” I say, “I’m not having a very good day, I might really do something wrong.”

“I still want you here,” he says.

I chuckle a bit, tightening the coupling into place. “You might regret that. Rerouting power back through the secondary coupling.” As power flows back through, there’s a small spark, which is normal, and T3’s eye lights up as he runs a diagnostic. “All good?” T3 beeps, and I release a sigh of relief. “Good. I am so sorry I did that.” T3 beeps again, forgiving me. “Thank you. I’ll be more careful next time.” T3 chirps and rolls off. I roll up my toolkit and sit down in the copilot’s chair with a heavy sigh. “I really hope my day starts picking up from here.”

He glances at me, starting to say something, but does a double take. “What happened to your head?”

I raise my hand to where he’s looking. There’s a scar there, still bleeding just a little. Didn’t realize there was a mark there. “I got hit in the head by a lightsaber crystal,” I say, running my hand over it to heal it.

“And your hands - Gods, Rena, what were you doing?”

“Turns out, modifying your lightsaber is harder than it sounds,” I say, “For those of you keeping track, today has had two terentateks, fighting a Sith master, getting betrayed by his apprentice, the political collapse of the Sith Academy on Korriban, cutting my hands, getting hit in the head by a lightsaber crystal, and knocking out a droid’s power coupling.” I say. “I could really use something good right about now.”

Carth tosses his head. “Well,” he says, “I’m about to change hyperspace routes. Once I do that it’s almost a straight shot to Manaan.”

“I’ll keep my hands to myself, then,” I say, “The way my day’s going, I might knock us off course.”

Carth smiles, and he gently pulls us out of hyper speed. Brings the ship around to change routes. Another ship in the intersection - I wonder where they’re going.

“DAMN IT - hold on!” Carth shouts suddenly, and I grab onto the seat. He spins the ship around quickly, and I hear T3 down the corridor spinning out.

“What? What is it?”

“Sith!” he says quickly, ���I’m gonna try to lose them!” He pushes the controls as far forward as they’ll go, to go as fast as we can, but we aren’t moving forward. “Damn it, come on, I know you can get out of this…”

“Can’t we just go to hyperspace?”

“If I just jump to lightspeed now, we won’t be on any route, we could hit an asteroid belt or a rogue planetoid and end up dead in space.” He punches a few controls, but it’s no good. The ship slowly spins around again, and we face the huge Sith vessel. Carth keeps frantically pressing controls, but it doesn’t look like it’s doing any good.

Bastila rushes into the cockpit with Canderous behind her. “What happened? What's going on?”

“Sith Interdictor ship,” Carth says, “They were waiting for us on the hyperspace route. We're caught in their tractor beam.” Finally, he slams his hand on the control panel. There’s nothing he can do.

“Do you recognize the ship?” she asks.

“It's the Leviathan,” Carth says with a sigh, “Saul Karath's vessel. My old mentor.”

This day just doesn’t seem to be getting any better. “I have no idea how we’re going to get out of this,” I say, “but gather everyone into the main hold. We need to figure this out.”

A minute later everyone is gathered into the main hold. Carth tells everyone what’s going on, then says, “Admiral Karath taught me everything I know about being a soldier. He was a legend in the Republic fleet, and a hero to me. Until he betrayed us. When the Sith attacked my home world, the Leviathan - Saul Karath's flagship - was at the head of the fleet. My family was destroyed that day and my wife died in the Sith bombardment.” Nothing I can say will comfort Carth, and I know that. So silently I take his hand. Remind him that I’m here. “I know, I know,” he says, talking mostly to me, “I'm not going to do anything stupid. I won't throw our lives away in some mad quest for vengeance.” And then he looks at everybody. “But if I get a chance to kill Saul during our escape, nobody better get in my way.”

I should try to stop him, I know. Vengeance can lead to the Dark Side. But at the end of the day, Saul’s done terrible things, not the least of which is a massacre, and he should die for his crimes. If killing him helps Carth heal, I can’t stop him. But Bastila feels differently. “Talk of an escape is somewhat premature, don't you think?” she says, “We don't even have a plan to get out of this mess yet!”

“I'll admit it won't be easy,” Carth says, “Saul's no fool and he won't underestimate us either. You can count on plenty of guards watching every move we make.”

Bastila thinks for a second. Then she says, “Maybe Admiral Karath doesn't know how many of us there are on board. We all have special talents; talents we could exploit so that one of us could stage a rescue. We just have to figure out who has the best chance to avoid capture so that they can come and rescue us later. It's a long shot, but it's our only hope.” She looks at me and Carth. “He will probably be watching the three of us far too closely for any plot involving you, me or Carth to succeed. It's going to be up to one of the others to get us out of this.”

“Well, if we're going to pick someone to save our skins we better do it quick,” Carth says, “In another minute we're going to have Sith troops marching up our loading ramp!”

My mind rushes through a half-dozen plots - HK could come out firing, T3 could pretend to be deactivated, Jolee could use the Force, we could throw gizka at them - but then I see MIssion frantically waving her hand in the air. “Ooh! Ooh!” she says excitedly. So I look at her. “I can break out of anything! Maybe I can goad the guards into making a mistake!”

“What sort of mistake?”

“If I get them mad enough, they might put me in a separate cell to punish me. With them focusing so much on you three I might be able to sneak out of my cell and come rescue the rest of you!”

Zaalbar loudly objects. “No, it’s too dangerous!”

“It’s a risk we have to take, Big Z!” she insists, “I can slice my way free from any security cell! Don’t worry, I can pull this off!”

“Mission, are you sure?” I ask. It’s a solid plan - the Sith could kill her, but that’s a risk we take with any plan, and I doubt they will kill her. Not so soon after her capture.

“Yeah, Rena,” she says, looking at me solemnly, “I want to do this.”

The ship shudders. “Hold on!” Carth says, “They're dragging us into the docking bridge!”

I move quickly over to her. “Get to the starboard quarters,” I say, “Make them come to you, fight on your own turf.”

She nods. “Got it.”

“Fight dirty, curse, piss him off. Insult his mother, if you run out of ideas.”

“Absolutely.”

I hug her quickly. “Good luck.” She nods and starts to move off, but I stop her one last time. “Hey,” I say, and I place a hand on her shoulder, “Go get ‘em.” She smiles, and runs off to her place in the starboard quarters.

This is certainly in the running for the worst day of my life.

[keeroo92]

Be My Nightmare Ch15

Run

The usual blood/gore warnings apply, plus mentions of alcoholism and *gasp* sex.

Word Count - 5,950

~~~~Previous Chapter~~~~

________

~~~~Reader~~~~

Ugh… why is it so hot in here?

You blinked your eyes and groaned, licking your dry lips as a pounding headache announced its presence. The familiar weight of blankets pressed upon your body, but something wasn’t right. The texture was off, like a layer was missing…

What happened to my shirt?

For that matter, why did your mouth taste like salt?   

Oh shit.

The memories of the night prior flooded your mind, hazy and confused but clear enough to explain the flavor on your lips. Dinner, whiskey and drinking games, and… 

Oh SHIT.

Bedding rustled as you rolled over with a grimace, expecting to find a certain murderous artist by your side. Instead, you found only empty space; the other side of the bed didn’t appear to have been disturbed all night. Was that a good sign, or a bad one?

It didn’t matter. First order of business was getting coffee and some ibuprofen. Everything else would have to wait.

You took your time clambering out of bed, muttering expletives with each motion. The neutral walls and unobtrusive decor did little to ease the urge to vomit, but it was the stairs that made you pause, remembering how you struggled with them last night. 

Just take it slow. One step at a time.

By the time you reached the last step, your hands were screaming to release the railing. Even so, you waited a moment to regain your balance before acquiescing. 

Your tired eyes scanned the familiar shapes of your apartment, searching for a head of tousled ebony locks. He couldn’t have left, could he? Where would he go? Was he out killing someone right this very moment? 

You couldn’t discount the possibility as you found no trace of the man. 

Goddamnit, V! After everything I’ve done to cover your ass…

How could he be so stupid?! If anyone saw him and recognized him, he’d end up right back in police custody! It didn’t make any sense to take the risk, what the hell was he thinking?

You pulled out your phone and opened your email, tapping at the painfully bright screen until you found what you were looking for. It was a long shot, but you were desperate. It might already be too late, you might just make everything worse, but at this point you were screwed anyway.

  You pursed your lips and waited, eyes locked on the screen as if you could make him answer through sheer force of will. Every second he failed to respond heightened your anxiety, innumerable disastrous scenarios playing like a sick film in your imagination. Not since junior high had you been so anxious to hear from someone. Damn him!

Releasing a huff of annoyance, you forced yourself to set the phone down and make coffee. The pounding of your headache wasn’t going to fade unless you took action, and you needed to be able to focus and think clearly. Getting emotional helped nobody. 

As you readied the coffee machine, ears perked in case your phone alerted you to a response, you noticed something odd. The dishes from last night’s dinner were clean, sitting on the drying rack as if you’d scrubbed them in your sleep. 

The madman had cleaned up.

But something was missing.

He stole my sharpest knife. Fuck.

Your head swam and sweat dotted your palms. He might have taken it just as a precaution, but more likely he was out making another art piece. What message was he crafting? No doubt you’d find out sooner or later; the police would probably be in touch once the scene was discovered. At least he did his work in private areas, that lessened the chance he’d be caught in the act. 

But still.

You sighed, hoping against hope that he was safe as you poured a cup of dark roast and took a sip. Bitter and strong, just how you liked it. A dose of ibuprofen accompanied the next gulp. 

I’m not an idiot teenager. Sitting here and waiting won’t make a difference.

Even so, a moment later you checked your phone. Still no response. Damn him!

  Part of you wanted to scream and throw the slim device against the wall. Another part wished for nothing more than a good cry. A whirlwind of emotions, swirling like a tempest at sea, leaving you to battle the waves or drown beneath them.

What if he has another episode? There’s no one there to help him and make sure he’s okay.

Going catatonic at the wrong time may lead to his death. Crossing the street, driving a car, even stalking his prey could leave him exposed and at risk. Heaven forbid it happened in the middle of his creative process; his victim would have the perfect chance to turn the tables and kill him. 

But what could you do to prevent it? How could you keep him safe?

Not to mention the fact that maybe he wouldn’t welcome your aid. It was possible he left with no intention of returning, abandoning you like all the rest. All you’d have to remind you of his presence would be the sketches from his sessions and the absence of your knife. It’d be like he never existed at all, the puzzle of his mind left unsolved.

A tight ball of grief twisted your heart, pins pricking at the corners of your eyes as you struggled to swallow the lump in your throat. After all the people who’d turned their back on you, it really shouldn’t have come as a surprise that the artist did the same. What did you have to offer him, anyway? You should’ve expected it, been ready for it. Why did it always hurt so damned much?

I should just turn myself in… what’s the point anymore? I can’t fix myself; I’m going to be broken forever. No one would miss me anyway.

The thought sent a dagger into your chest, the blade twisting and shredding the last remnants of hope you held. What a stupid thing, to hope. It only brought more pain. Better to accept things the way they were than waste time striving for something better.

Sniffling quietly, you stepped away from the kitchen to part the curtains and grimace at the bright street below, just in case you could spot him. The area you lived in wasn’t crowded; the peace and seclusion brought you comfort in the past. Today, it only hammered home how very alone you were. 

Another glance at your phone. Still nothing. 

He’s gone.

Your shoulders curled inward as a single, strangled sob broke free. Blinking back pointless tears, you swallowed and released a shaky breath, fighting to remain in control. Old habits died hard, and crying wasn’t something you’d allowed yourself to indulge in for many years. Even as you were dying inside, you refused to let the agony show. 

Stop it, Y/N. Think about something else, pull yourself together.

A dark sedan caught your teary eyes. Unfamiliar and parked a few spaces down from your own old beater of a car, it seemed out of place somehow. Like it didn’t belong; an outlier. You pursed your lips and looked closer, letting the puzzle of its presence distract you from your aching soul. Why did it stand out so much?

It’s too clean.

Indeed, the vehicle shone with its lack of filth. In a city with a grand total of two car washes, a clean car was a rare sight. Whoever drove it must have an interesting list of priorities. 

Wait… it couldn’t be.

Your focus narrowed on the license plate. From that distance, it wasn’t easy to tell, but the spacing of the digits left a strange void. Right where the three letters that mark all undercover law enforcement vehicles could be found. XMT.

Exempt. 

“You gotta be shitting me,” you murmured, stunned. Cops. Here, at your home.

I’m under police surveillance. 

You stumbled back from the window, heart racing. Did they already have V in custody? Had he sold you out? What the hell made the cops think you merited surveillance? You’d been so careful to play along, something must have happened for them to suddenly be paying attention to you.

Not that they were wrong.

You couldn’t help but release a peal of manic laughter. This was your life now, watched by the authorities and worrying about the well-being of a man who left you behind. Pitiful. 

I can’t do this, I just can’t.

V was right; you’d been hiding for decades. Concealing your flaws as best you could in the hope that you could one day heal them. Pretending to be all right when you were anything but. You’d grown so accustomed to the mask you didn’t even know what was behind it anymore. 

Your body hit the counter, the sturdy structure supporting your spine as you slid to the floor. Without thinking, you wrapped your arms around your knees and curled inwards, cocooning yourself as best you could. 

With your life in the state it was in, what was the point of it all? Coming back from this disaster would be near impossible. Just thinking about it made your legs feel like lead. An uphill battle to be fought alone was all that awaited you in the weeks to come. Who in their right mind would come to your aid? No; you had no allies. Others couldn’t be trusted, anyway.

V had abandoned you. Kotomi betrayed you, and Malphas… Malphas simply couldn’t be bothered. He hadn’t reached out a single time since your suspension. He obviously didn’t care about you, and he was far too intelligent not to know what really happened on the day of the fire. No, he knew. He just thought Kotomi was more worthy of his protection than you were.

And those were just the people who’d walked away in the last month and a half.

A humorless laugh split your lips. Maybe your dad was right all along. 

Once they get what they want, the people I care about will forget I ever existed. Caring only brings pain.

~~~~V~~~~

Elegant fingers clutched a paper bag in a tight grip, green eyes scanning the block for any sign of danger. He didn’t think there was any reason to fear, but one could never be too careful. The knife in his pocket comforted his nerves as he crossed the last intersection and peered into the parking lot or your apartment complex.

Odd. I don’t recall that car.

His errand hadn’t taken long, perhaps twenty minutes if he were being generous. All his friends begged him to stay put, but their warnings fell on deaf ears. You really didn’t stock your kitchen well, and after last night you’d need a solid breakfast.

Beanie pulled tight against his scalp, V longed to tear it off and scratch away the irritation it brought. He’d tucked his locks within it and borrowed a hoodie from your closet to hide his tattoos. So far, it had been enough to disguise him, but this newcomer made him pause.

Tinted windows. Shadowy outlines of two figures in the front. The vehicle was parked in the ideal spot to watch the front door of the building; it would be impossible to enter without being seen. While he couldn’t be sure who occupied the car, it simply wasn’t worth the risk.

The artist withdrew, traversing the sidewalk beside your building and thanking his lucky stars for the shrubbery that hid him from view. An urge to look over his shoulder swept through his mind, but he ignored it. If someone was watching, it would only make him seem more suspicious. Better to appear unconcerned, as if he belonged here.

If one cannot avoid being seen, one can still avoid standing out.

From what he recalled, your apartment was in the south east corner, two floors up. With only one entrance on ground level, he'd need to get creative to find a way back to you. 

He smirked. Creativity wasn’t something he struggled with.

Within moments he found salvation; an iron wrought fire escape firmly anchored on the eastern wall. He climbed it quickly. Surely you were awake by now, and hopefully coherent enough to let him in. If not, he could settle in and wait. 

Yet through the gauzy curtains covering your window, he spotted you. Curled up on the floor in the kitchen, head bowed. Likely due to the hangover you were sure to be suffering from. Perhaps he should’ve stopped you sooner last night. He tapped the glass with his free hand.

The look on your face as you lifted your head stopped his breath. Vacant eyes, tear tracks on your cheeks on either side of your red and runny nose. It was a look he knew intimately, one of grief and mourning. He’d seen it on his own features for many months after Nero’s passing.

Whatever happened to summon such an expression of sorrow would meet the end of his blade. Quickly.

He tapped the glass again, rewarded when your face shifted to recognition. Those delectable fingers he so adored tasting wiped away tears as you came to let him in. 

“Where were you?” you asked the moment he was inside. “Is that my sweater?”

This is a waste of time. She’s more trouble than she’s worth.

The artist clenched his hands and growled. “Stay out of it.”

“Excuse me?”

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, setting his package on the nearby countertop. “Not you; Vergil was being rude.”

You sniffled, dewy eyed and with fidgeting hands . “Right. S- so, where did you go?”

“It doesn’t matter. What’s wrong?”

The blade in his pocket called to him, urging him to wield it against your foes. He would not allow anything to interfere with his plans for you, not when you were making such excellent progress. 

“I’m fine, it’s nothing,” you said dismissively. “What’s in the bag?”

It was obvious you were not fine, but pressing the issue might do more harm than good. Better to distract you and ask again later, when you were calm. “Here, let me show you.”

Your eyes went wide as he unwrapped the chunk of meat. Blood dripped from the tissue he’d used to wrap it and beautifully soaked the counter with his favorite shade of crimson. If only he had a camera handy…

“That’s not… human, is it?” 

Griffon’s raucous laughter filled his mind, but V only smirked. “Bovine, actually.”

“Ohthankgod…”

At that, he did chuckle. While the human form made a splendid canvas, it didn’t appeal to him as a meal. He had his limits. “I thought I could make you breakfast.”

As if your strings had been cut, you fell into one of the chairs by the counter and stared at him incredulously. “Breakfast… you risked being seen… to make me breakfast.”

He scoffed and reached for a frying pan, flicking the stovetop on with his free hand. “Indeed, though I wouldn’t call it a risk. I wore a disguise.”

You pursed your lips as he seasoned the meat. “You mean my bright orange volleyball sweater? Yeah, you are the epitome of discretion.”

An undercurrent of irritation spoiled your teasing statement. Shadow growled her displeasure and V clenched his jaw. Here he was trying to do something thoughtful and kind, and you only got upset with him. Vergil would surely tease him about it later. Wonderful.

“Sorry. I just... “ you murmured. “I just didn’t know if you were coming back, and-”

“And you think so little of me that you imagined I’d abandoned you?” he snapped, setting aside the spatula and turning to face you. Breakfast could wait. 

You refused to meet his eyes, a stony expression locked in place like a barrier against his annoyance. “Why not? Everyone else has.”

There, she gave you the perfect opening. Leave now and don’t look back.

Yeah, even I say it’s bail time. Gotta draw the line somewhere, pal.

His patience shattered. The artist slammed his palms on the counter with an animalistic snarl, barely noticing how you jumped. “ENOUGH! My decision is made and I will not hear any further protests! Aid me or be silent, all of you!” he roared.

For several seconds, the only sound in your spacious apartment was his panting breath. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, his heart pounding in preparation to do battle, yet it seemed his friends would abide. For now.

He released a long sigh and tore the accursed beanie from his scalp, ruffling his hair to relieve the itchiness. Your sweater wasn’t far behind. A twitch of his slim wrist and the stove was off, waiting until the mood befitted a meal. 

“I must apologize. My friends are quite insistent at times, but in this they cannot sway me,” he began, circling the counter to sit beside you. He peeked through his dark hair to meet your eyes, still wary but warming with each word he spoke. “Forgive my boldness, but I’m not going anywhere.”

You sniffled and offered a subdued smile. “Leave a damned note next time, okay?”

He hummed his agreement and offered his palm. “Deal. Now, come help me with breakfast.”

~~~~Reader~~~~

You spent the next half hour watching V orchestrate a feast. He moved like a dancer through the kitchen, practiced hands flying as he flipped a massive omelet and expertly seared meat. A content smile graced his full lips as he cooked; the man was truly at his happiest when being creative. 

The best help you could offer was staying out of his way.

Not to say he let you sit back and idly watch; not at all. He had you chop vegetables and set the table, taking the chance to touch your shoulder or waist when you were close enough. It was peaceful, like an island in the tempest raging around you. If only things could be like this every day.

But you were a realist, and eventually you couldn’t keep from shattering the illusion.

“So I take it you saw the cops outside? That’s why you took the fire escape, right?”

V frowned as he dished up your half of the omelet. “I wasn’t sure they were cops, but caution seemed prudent.”

You sighed and carried the very full plates to the table, silverware and napkins already prepared. The savory scent of steak brought a flood to your mouth as you took your seat. “Yeah, I think I’m under surveillance.”

The sting of it still hurt. Tony and Nico seemed like nice people, but one of them must have suspicions. It was only a matter of time before the house of cards came tumbling down. All it would take was a moment of inattention, V walking by a window at the wrong moment or getting spotted on his way back inside; it was foolish to imagine he wouldn’t go out again.

So. Options.

“I think our best play is for me to leave. Since they’re watching me, they should follow. Then, you can leave and find somewhere else to lay low.”

The artist smirked, taking a bite of fluffy eggs. “I could just dispose of the issue.”

You shook your head and cut off a chunk of meat, moaning quietly at the exquisite flavor. “No, this looks above board. They’d just send more cops and get more suspicious.”

Not to mention all the other reasons murder isn’t the right way to solve your problems...

Before he could reply, a sharp knock on the door stole your attention. Your eyes and V’s went wide in unison, though his hand hovered by his pocket far too quickly for your liking. He still hadn’t returned your knife…

“Squirt, it’s me! I know you’re home, saw your car.”

Ice filled your veins. He wouldn’t leave without getting whatever he came for, he never did. Damnit, of all the times he could've picked to randomly show up! Was he drunk? What the fuck did he want? You sighed.

“It’s my father. Take your plate and go upstairs. I’ll get him to leave as soon as I can.”

The artist’s eyes flashed. “The drinker?”

“Yes, just go! He can’t find out you’re here.”

His nostrils flared, jaw tight. His posture reminded you forcefully that he wasn’t just some guy you had over for breakfast; this was a serial killer with untold amounts of blood on his hands. A man mentally unstable enough to be sent to a psychiatric hospital, with frequent auditory and occasional visual hallucinations. “Unpredictable and dangerous” was putting it mildly.

Though, some problems can be solved with murder.

“Just say the word, you’ll never have to deal with him again.”

Instead of answering him, you stood and headed for the door. Following your instructions at last, V ascended the stairs with a frown. He’d just have to deal with it, it’s not like these were normal circumstances.

With your best false smile in place, you opened the door. “Hi dad. What are you doing here?”

Greasy brown hair covered a growing bald patch on his scalp. A beer gut bulged out from his flannel tee, a stench of Miller radiating from him like cheap drugstore cologne. A few days worth of stubble cast a shadow on his jaw.

At least he’s not covered in vomit.

“Heya, squirt! You gonna invite me in?”

Do I have a choice?

“Yeah, of course. Come in.”

You made it a point to not socialize with him unless he initiated. There was too much bad blood, too many tainted memories and half-hearted apologies. He was beyond forgiveness and you were done trying to build a bridge when he insisted on burning it down. The most you’d grant him was civility, if only to avoid outright conflict. 

“Nice place. Kinda too perfect, though.”

Ten seconds in, and already he’d insulted you. Not a new record, but close. “I like it this way. Uh, what… what are you doing here?”

He shot you a lopsided grin, displaying his yellowed teeth. “Can’t a father visit his genius daughter? C’mon, let’s catch up. You got anything to drink?”

Not after last night, no.

But you let him see for himself. He wouldn’t take your word for it if you tried, anyway. Like many alcoholics, he always believed himself to be the victim of persecution. As if it excused his rotten behavior. 

“Nothing?” he said at last, closing the final cupboard. “Damn, you’re lame…”

“S- sorry. Maybe we can go out instead?”

It set your teeth on edge to hear yourself stutter. In high school, it’d been the main reason you got picked on, along with your father’s history. It wasn’t easy to escape the blight of sharing blood with the man. Just one night, a mere handful of hours to keep your secrets hidden. You could tolerate him that long, surely.

“Nah, how about you just run to the store and get me something like a good girl?” 

Don’t you call me that. Don’t you dare call me that.

You bit your tongue. Emotions were just a chemical reaction; you were in control. He just stimulated the neurons that brought this feeling on, it wasn’t like he had any actual power over you. Not anymore. 

“Look, this, uh, this isn’t really a good time for me. Can we catch up later this week?” you replied. A mask of neutrality paralyzed your face, but inside you were screaming.

Get out! Get out of my home, this place is mine and I won’t let you ruin it! Haven’t you done enough damage?

You knew better than to let the words take shape as your father settled into your couch, propping his legs up and sighing happily. “Truth is, I got evicted. Got nowhere else to go, so figured I’d stay with you until I get back on my feet. Hell, you could even help me get going like you used to.”

Never had V’s method of solving problems appealed to you more. It didn’t matter how much you wanted him to leave - you would never agree to be his accomplice again. “What about a hotel? My couch isn’t that comfortable.”

He chuckled, gesturing dismissively as if your words held no weight. “S’fine, I’ll take the bed. Oh, is that steak? Awesome!”

1000… 993… 986…

The sound of his chewing and happy moans barely preceded V’s footsteps. 

No, no, nonono! What are you doing?! You idiot!

“Good evening,” the artist began, approaching your father’s meat-stuffed face with his own plate in hand. Though his expression was still, sparks of rage flickered in his green depths and his hand twitched toward his pocket. As if the situation wasn’t bad enough already…

“Uh, hi? Who are you?”

One metaphorically bloodstained hand extended over the table to shake the equally morally questionable hand of your kin. “You can call me V.”

“Heh. V. Weird name. You sleeping with my daughter?”

Someone please just kill me. I’m so fucking done.

It wasn’t embarrassment that made you purse your lips as V sat down. It was the knowledge of what would inevitably come out of your father’s lips and the potentially atomic reaction it would elicit from V. 

“More or less,” replied the artist, taking a bite of his own steak.

Your father glanced at you and smirked, as if to say ‘watch this’. A sinkhole opened in your stomach as he licked his lips. This was it, train wreck in five, four, three...

“You sure you want her? She’s kinda… well... “ his voice dropped. “She’s kinda nuts.”

A flash of silver, copper staining the air as fresh blood soaked your table. Maniacal laughter and a twisted sense of relief, that at least you’d never have to hear his voice again, endure his insults or manipulations…

That was what you expected.

You did not expect V to laugh and wave you over, wrapping an arm around your waist possessively the moment you were close enough. You did not expect him to smile at you fondly and never would you have imagined his response. 

“I know. That’s why I love her.”

Intricately tattooed fingers brought your hand to the artist’s lips for a kiss. You barely made it to the chair beside him before your legs refused to support you. Love… Is that what he called it? It had to be an act, some scheme to throw off your father. 

He can’t be serious.

“You got some fucking shitty taste in women, then, my friend. The last guy she was with wound up dead, the one before that still can’t walk properly.”

Beneath the table, V’s hand clenched yours in a vice-like grip. His wrist kept twitching, closer to his pocket where your knife still resided. It took all your strength to pull him back.

“Dad, knock it off. Let’s get you a hotel room, we can talk tomorrow.”

He took another bite and grinned. “Whasamatter? Don’t want me talking to your newest boy-toy?”

V’s grip tightened. You winced but refused to pull away, lest he lose control. How long had it been since he killed? Most killers had a pattern, a time frame. If he were overdue, restraining it would be even more difficult. 

Defuse, deflect, de-escalate.

An obviously fake laugh found its way past your lips. “Aw, don’t worry. I’ll always be a daddy’s girl.”

The source for half of your genetic material burped and polished off the last bite of steak, chewing open-jawed as if trying to catch flies. “Good girl,” he said.

That time, it was your hand that twitched closer to the blade.

By all rights, you knew he was toying with you. Playing with your fucked-up head and sending it spinning, like a child’s top or a carousel. It was his standard opening move; destroy any existing emotional framework and get you to revert to being his “good girl”. Burn you to ash so he could rebuild you however he pleased. Remind you of how powerless you were and how easily he could ruin everything you built.

Angry tears prickled at your eyes, a baseball blooming into existence where your vocal cords were supposed to be. If you clenched your teeth any harder, you’d crack a molar. Every ounce of self-control and restraint went into withholding a scream.

~~~~V~~~~

Your father was perhaps the most magnificent canvas he’d ever seen. The sheer volume of ways he wanted to carve the man into pieces outnumbered the entirety of his portfolio. A slice here, a stab there, how delicious would it be to make the man eat his own eyeballs? His steaming entrails spilling onto the floor, his still-beating heart visible through the hole artistically positioned across his ribcage; the ideas refused to slow.

But you’d told him long ago not to harm the bastard. 

Not yet...

“Let’s get the dishes started and give your father a moment to settle in, hmm?” V commented. 

“Works for me. Where’s the remote, squirt?”

“Coffee table,” you ground out. 

The instant the abominable man turned away, he pulled you to your feet and grabbed a dish. How would your father’s spleen look on a plate? Or perhaps his cock? The artist hummed; that was an idea worth revisiting.

The kitchen was barely far enough to be considered out of earshot, but it would have to suffice. He licked his lips and asked the first question that came to mind. “Why do you let him speak to you like that?”

A muscle in your cheek clenched as you released his palm, eyes narrowed into a ferocious glare. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

Lithe fingers handed you a plate. “I strongly disagree.”

“It’s none of your business.”

Water spewed from the faucet and you commenced scrubbing, using more force than he imagined was required. He handed you the next plate. A knife was next, but he hesitated. It fit so well in his fingers, like it was calling his name…

Do it. Stab her, kill them both and leave. Enough foolishness.

He dropped the knife.

His words still echoed in his mind. “That’s why I love her.”

It wasn’t strictly a lie, but was it the truth? Why else did the monstrosity in the living room still breathe? Why else would he hesitate to slice the fool’s throat open and dance in the gushing fluid? 

Yeesh, look what she’s turned you into, Van Gogh. This is just pathetic.

“Stop it,” he muttered, handing you the dropped knife as quickly as possible. The warmth and comfort it brought moments ago was but a memory. Only cold steel remained, foreign and obscene to his grip.

“Stop what?”

Kill her. She is nothing, a plaything you’ve outgrown. You’re free now, she is unnecessary. 

He shook his head. Wide jade eyes searched for something safe to view. A cutting board? Perfect for slicing your thighs open. Kitchen shears? Excellent choice for severing tendons. A wine glass - the perfect container to hold your detached fingers.

Just do it, you’ll feel better. Trust us, have we ever led you wrong?

“V? What’s wrong?” 

His skull was splitting, too many voices all at once and why wouldn’t they just shut up? Yours was the one life he wished to preserve, why did his friends want to end it? Far away, he heard your voice calling his name, but it was like you were a ghost calling from beyond the veil. 

Kill her. Kill her. Kill her…

No!

Dainty hands wrapped around his torso, a warm voice telling him to breathe. He latched on with all he had, desperate to let those arms comfort him and bring him back to himself. 

Kill her.

Agony. 

Wave after wave of unbearable pain, rolling over him with no end in sight. Like a boulder on a beach, eventually he would wear away into nothingness. He was powerless against the inferno boiling his blood and the spikes digging into his gut. 

Kill her.

He lacked the strength to stand and fell to his knees, groaning as he struggled to resist the shining blade glittering in the dishwasher. It would be so easy to end his suffering, all he had to do was take the handle and plunge it into your body. He could do it over and over until nothing remained but holes for him to fuck. To feel you wrapped around him was a persistent fantasy, how divine would it be to create caverns only he would ever enjoy?

“NO!”

The artist lurched to his feet and ran, sprinting to the exit as fast as his long stride would carry him. It didn’t matter that he had no sweater and no beanie, it didn’t matter that the police were right outside, he didn’t care that he would never again taste freedom. 

All that mattered was putting distance between himself and you.

~~~~Reader~~~~

You stood in stunned silence as the door swung shut behind V’s departing figure. The sink still sprayed water, ricocheting off a forgotten plate to douse the counter and your stomach but it didn’t matter. 

The wanted murderer you’d been giving shelter was gone. Running outside in full view of the police watching you.

Your life was over.

“Fuck…”

Somehow, throughout this whole mess you’d believed you could put your life back together. There was always a path back, always a way to move forward. It wouldn’t be easy, nor quick, but it was still possible.

V had just drenched that chance with gasoline and tossed a lit match on it.

It happened so fast; your hands still hovered where you’d been trying to hold him. Leftover heat from his body warmed the air and his scent lingered in your nostrils like a memory. 

“Where’d that loser go? You scare him off?”

Your shell-shocked gaze turned to your father. Everything was fine before he showed up. Did he even know what he’d done? Did he care? “He’s… he’s gone.”

“Good riddance, I say. Now it’s just me and you, like old times.”

Old times…

There was still hope. Maybe the cops were gone, maybe V managed to slip past them. You could still salvage this. You had to at least try.

But… how?

You closed your eyes, mind racing. There were two obstacles you had to deal with; the cops, and your father. Operating on the assumption that all was not lost meant that the cops could be ignored for now. If they were still a factor, it was a moot point.

That left your father.

The man who took less than ten seconds to insult you when he arrived.

The man who coerced you into counting cards as a child.

The man who’d run over a kid in your third grade class.

The man who demanded everything and gave nothing back.

The man who would sell you out as soon as he’d blink.

The old you would have backed down and meekly done as he told you. Gone back to pretending you were okay and that you felt things the same way as everyone else. Accepted his praise and craved more, never imagining there was a different life out there for you. 

I can’t- what do I do? What would V do?

You already knew the answer. He’d do what was necessary. The artist would never pretend, he’d tear the mask from his face and scream his defiance to the world. No matter the cost, he would not shy away from it.

No more hiding.

A trembling hand reached into the soapy water and grasped the same blade V stole just hours ago. How fitting, to use it for this. 

It’s time to take action.

~~~~Next Chapter~~~~

[justakpopfic]

Boss by Night- Chapter 8

Nct mafia au

Summary: Taeyong lives a double life. In the day, he’s just a normal guy taking care of Jisung, an orphaned boy that Taeyong took under his wing. At night, he’s the leader of the notorious Mafia, NCT. When Jisung grows suspicious of what Taeyong does for his job, and when a deal goes wrong, Taeyongs two worlds begin to slowly collide.

Genre: mafia au, angst

Warnings: Mentions of drugs and violence.

Masterlist / Next

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jisung POV

By the time it took to bike all the way downtown, it was already dark. I parked my bike about a block away from the bar. I had a plan on how to get inside. But I didn’t know if it would even work. I didn’t even know if Taeyong actually worked here. I’m running on assumptions on things I know nothing about.

But I still find myself walking to The Rose bar. I stood on the other side of the street. People walked in and out, but I couldn’t see what they were doing inside. The windows were tinted.

I have heard rumours about this place. About how the people who work here actually do crimes like drug deals, and other things. I’ve only ever heard them from Chenle, so I’m not sure how accurate they are. Then again, the former owner was in a drug deal.

Taeyong would never purposely commit a crime. Would he?

I walk back to the nearby intersection. After crossing, I found an entry into the alleyway. I purposely walked slower than before, expecting someone to come out an attack me. I didn’t see anyone inside, but I wasn’t sure if that comforted me or scared me even more. Possibly the latter.

I was right next to the bar. Surely there was a back door for the employees. I took a couple more steps and sitting under a dim lamp, was a metal door. Walking right up to it, I could read the words: FACULTY MEMBERS ONLY, written in old-looking paint.

In any other situation, I’d probably run away. In fact, that idea didn’t sound too bad. Running away to safety. Where nobody died, and crimes weren’t committed, and where Taeyong didn’t lie to me.

I shook my head. No time to think like that now. I took a deep breath, thinking through what I’m going to do once, or if, I get inside.

If my hunch is correct, then Taeyong works here, and runs the place. But even that’s not a lot to go on. If he’s here then he straight up lied to me. How could I ever handle that? If he’s really in Japan, then why?

My best bet would be to sneak inside. Somehow find my way to the office and search for signs of Taeyong. What to do afterwards or if I get caught, I have no idea.

I reached towards the metal handle, pulling the door. It opened. My heart sped up. I didn’t expect this part to be easy. I opened the door wider, and stepped inside with a nauseous feeling in my chest.

I could hear music coming from the other side of the hallway I stepped into. I assumed the white lights from a doorway at the end was the kitchen, if this bar served food.

I crept down the long hallway. If anyone came in here and saw me, I’m dead, or hopefully, just kicked out. There was a turn that led to a staircase, only lit up by one bulb. I gulped. Why does this place have to have a scary atmosphere as well.

I took one step up the stairs, hoping it wouldn’t creak. When nothing happened, I took another. Then another. And another. Until I reached the second floor.

So far, so good, I guess. Now I just have to see where the owner of this place would be. I took one step down the hall, before a hand grabbed my shoulder.

I was spun around so quickly, I didn’t even have time to gasp. Instead, I stared into the eyes of a tall, and terrifying looking man.

“What business do you have here?” he asked sternly. I couldn’t talk, or breathe. My eyes went to the bat he held at his waist. Oh god, why does he have a bat? Is he going to beat me up with it?

“I asked you a question,” the man said. I sucked in a breath. I can’t cry in front of him, I can’t. But I was sure that no matter what I say, I’ll get kicked out.

I sucked in another breath. “I’m looking for your boss,” I said as calmly as possible. I even got the guts to stare into the mans eyes as I said it.

The man scoffed. “I’m sure you do.” He grabbed my arm and began to drag me to the door. The door! I can’t leave yet! I still haven’t found out anything!

“Wait! Stop!” I said, but the man ignored me. I tried to get out of his grip, but his hands were locked tight on me. “I’m not lying! I really do know him!” That is of course unless it’s not Taeyong, which in that case, I think I’m screwed.

“I know him!” I kept protesting as he dragged me down the stairs. “We live together!”

The man hummed as to say, “I hear you but I’m not listening.” We were almost out the door. I’ll never know the truth if I get thrown out. And I might literally be thrown.

“His name is Lee Taeyong!” I shouted. “Lee Taeyong! He’s your boss, isn’t he—“

The man clamped his hand over my mouth. He bent down to meet my eyes.

“Keep your mouth shut,” he said harshly. He grabbed my arm again and dragged me back up the stairs. Oh god, what have I done now?

Once we were up the stairs, he took me to the farthest room down the hallway. I didn’t say anything, or fight back this time. I was already sure that he’d kill me.

We reached the door at the end of the hall. The man took his free hand and knocked on the door. After a moment, a voice inside told us to come in.

The man opened the door, dragged me into an office, and threw me into one of the chairs in front of the desk.

There were two men behind the desk. One man had brown wavy hair, and the other was shorter, with red hair.

They stared at me for a moment, then the browned hair one eyes widened.

“It’s him,” he said.

“Uh…what?” I sputtered.

“We know who you are,” the tall man said, walking behind the desk to face me.

“Oh yeah? Then who am I?”

“Park Jisung.”

“Mark…”

“I’m sorry, but he was going to find out anyways.”

“Find out what?” I said. My hands gripped the armrests. How did they know me? Did they know Taeyong? Why would he know them?

The man in red reached out for my hand. I snatched it away before he could touch me. I didn’t like him. I didn’t like this aura. It just screamed danger.

“We know why you’re probably here,” the red haired man said.

“But you need to tell us why you decided to come here,” the browned hair boy said. That man looked so young, closer to my age, or maybe Renjuns.

“Answer my question then,” I said. I don’t know why I asked that with the scary man right there, but I suddenly felt brave.

“Which is…?” The red haired man said.

“Do you know Taeyong and if you do, where is he?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag list: @btm-taeyong @boiolay @ty-boiolay @haechandesal @king-eddiie

[cheemerthelizard]

Crusader of Life 2: Chapter 15

Another day of babysitting quickly had a change of plans when Josuke and Emily were ambushed by Stand users. Josuke tells Emily to run, but it’s soon clear that the plan was for her to be separated from him all along.

“Josuke, my feet are tired,” Emily complained. Although they had been to the park many times before, Emily still needed a rest every couple of blocks. Of course, she was two, so it made sense.

“Alright, then, hop onto my back,” Josuke told her. He bent down, and Emily jumped up, latching on to his shoulders.

“Now, then, which way is the way to the park?” Josuke asked. He had done that every time they came across an intersection, and so far, she had answered every one perfectly. He just wanted to make sure that she could get back to his house safely in case an enemy ambushed them, because he could feel eyes watching his every move.

“Straight!” Emily answered confidently.

“Good job, Emily!” He would just turn back now, but that would be too suspicious, and it would alert Emily of the danger. “Going straight!”

If the enemy was watching him, or if there even was an enemy, wouldn’t they have attacked by now? Surely he was just imagining things. No, he’s never felt this way before going to the park, there had to be something-

Before his thought could finish, four people jumped from the trees and onto the pavement, Stands summoned.

“What’s this?” one of them asked.

“Two poor little victims for us to rob?” another laughed.

Josuke slowly put Emily’s feet on the ground, then turned to her. “You know the way back right? I want you to run. Run back home, and don’t stop until you get there. Got it?”

Emily nodded.

“Good. Then go! Run!”

Emily did as she was told, bolting back the way they came. While running, she bumped into a man and fell flat on her back.

“I’m sorry, Mister,” she said, getting herself up.

“Well, it looks like my little plan worked,” the man smirked. “Josuke left you all alone, thinking that would save you. It’s a shame it’ll be the exact opposite.”

Without warning, the man picked Emily up, covering her mouth with his arm. Now would usually be the time that Walking on Sunshine would show up and save its user, but even commanding it to show up, Emily couldn’t summon it. The only thing she could do was kick and thrash in attempts to break free from this man’s grasp, which did next to nothing.

“Now, then, how much should I ransom you for?” the man chuckled. “1,000,000 yen? 50,000,000 yen? Or maybe… someone’s life?”

***

“You guys were too easy!” Josuke laughed. “I took you all out in one hit!”

“Did you ever think that maybe that was the point?” one of the thugs asked.

Josuke’s smug grin instantly vanished. “What? Why would that be the point?”

“We didn’t even use our Stands to fight,” another thug pointed out.

“You should go look for Emily before it’s too late,” the third one taunted.

“What did you do to her?!” Josuke demanded. “Where is she?!”

“We didn’t do anything,” the last one smirked. “It was Mr. Kesu. You better find him before he does anything to your precious Emily.”

As soon as the thug was done speaking, Josuke sprinted away, calling Emily’s name everywhere he went. What was he going to tell Mr. Kakyoin and Mrs. Lily if he didn’t get there in time to save their little girl? How would he cope with another life being taken away before he could do anything? No, he didn’t need to think about the what ifs right now. He needed to find Emily before any of the what ifs happened.

“Emily! Where are you?” Josuke shouted.

“Josuke!” Emily’s voice cried out. “Help me!”

Josuke’s head turned to the noise, which was coming in straight from an abandoned warehouse.

“Don’t worry, Emily!” he yelled. “I’ll save you!”

He ran straight into the warehouse, running around the eerily empty hallways. Emily kept making noise, so he followed her voice, changing direction when she got quieter. He was getting closer, he could tell, because her anxious cries were louder, and louder, and louder, until…

“And now, you’re truly trapped, Josuke,” a man chuckled. Right next to him was a chair holding a roped down Emily, screaming and kicking in an attempt to escape.

“Kesu!”

“Yes, that’s indeed my name,” Kesu replied.

“You let her go right now!” Josuke demanded.

“Oh? And what will you do if I don’t?”

“I’ll have Crazy Diamond make your insides out!” Right next to Josuke, his Stand appeared, showing its appearance in order to scare Kesu. At least, it should have. Instead, nothing showed up.

“C-Crazy Diamond?” Josuke nervously laughed. “Where are you? I kind of need your help right now.”

“Why do you think your little Emily hasn’t escaped with Walking on Sunshine yet, hm?” Kesu asked. “I would love to know what you think is happening.”

Come to think of it, the only thing tying Emily down was a tight bind on her arms and legs. She could have easily lifted herself up and flew out of there. With that, and Crazy Diamond not showing up to aid Josuke, it was clear what was happening.

“A Stand!”

“And that Stand is exactly why you’re trapped, Josuke,” Kesu laughed. “So long as you’re within Danger Zone’s range, your Stand is jammed. You can’t summon it.”

Josuke was about to bolt out of the warehouse and call the police, until Kesu said sternly, “Now, don’t you run, Josuke. One step away from me, and I’ll slit this girl’s throat.” He reached for a knife in his pocket and held it near Emily’s neck. “And don’t think of punching me either, because one step towards me, and the girl will suffer the same fate.”

“Well, what do you want me to do?” Josuke asked. Kesu responded with a light chuckle, tossing a second knife to the boy in front of him.

“Kill yourself,” Kesu ordered. “Stab yourself somewhere fatal. I don’t care if it’s fast so your pain ends quickly, or slow so you can say your last goodbyes to little Emily, but make sure your life ends from that knife. Any retaliation, and… well, I’m sure you know what happens.”

Josuke gulped, staring down at the knife he was holding in his shaky hands. Emily had more of her life left than him, but she wasn’t old enough to have any true ambitions. But, if Emily died, then everyone would miss her, but they would miss Josuke if he died, too. Either way, he wasn’t getting paid anymore.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Kesu asked impatiently. “Is it your life or the girl’s?”

“I’m thinking, just wait a second!” Josuke snapped. “Geez.” After a few more moments, he closed his eyes shut, gritted his teeth, and held the knife up to his chest. He decided, in the end, that he would have to live with the fact that a little girl would have died because of him if he chose to save himself. Still, it was hard, having to impale his chest and kill himself, for obvious reasons. He kept pulling the knife back as soon as it poked him. Then, right before he made the final move to end his life, he heard a familiar and reassuring voice.

“Drop the knife, Josuke!”

Josuke’s hands let go of the weapon as soon as he heard Jotaro, letting the metal clang to the floor.

“Mr. Jotaro, thank goodness!” Josuke heaved. When he reopened his eyes, he saw his nephew untying Emily’s restraints, with an either unconscious or dead Kesu on the floor. “How’d you find us?”

“There was another door on the other side of the building, and I was going to investigate this place, anyway,” Jotaro explained. I turned a corner, and saw you, Emily, and this guy. Based on the fact that neither of you had your Stand summoned, especially Emily since hers activates automatically to save her, I knew his ability must have been interfering with yours in some way. I summoned Star Platinum, and he seemed to be working just fine, so his range was either small, or he was controlling its range in order to keep his presence discreet. Either way, I stopped time, yanked the knife out of his hand, and beat him to a pulp before time moved again.”

“Josuke!” Emily ran over to him and clung to his leg. Her tears stained his pants.

“She looks really upset,” Jotaro said. “You should probably ease her pain.”

“But she’s not hurt,” Josuke replied. He lifted Emily into his arms, and she continued to cry into his shoulder. “Crazy Diamond can’t fix her if she’s not hurt.”

“I don’t mean her physical pain,” Jotaro rolled his eyes. “I mean that you should probably find a way to take her mind off of what just happened.”

“Wha-? What am I supposed to do?” Josuke asked.

“I don’t know. You’re her babysitter,” Jotaro smirked. He started walking off, but before he was gone, he turned back. “But seriously, she’s only two, if you don’t make her forget about it all then she’s going to be severely traumatized.”

Josuke gulped. Now it was his job to take care of this crying child in his arms. “Wasn’t even concerned about me, the guy who almost killed himself,” Josuke muttered. “Well, let’s get you out of here, for starters. This place is creepy.”

It was much easier finding Emily than it was finding the exit. Emily could lead Josuke on with her desperate screams for help, but nobody was yelling loud enough to hear from where they were.

“Are we lost?” Emily asked.

“No, no, we’re not lost,” Josuke lied. “And even if we were, I’d keep you safe.”

“But what about that guy?” Emily pouted. “You said to run and he grabbed me when you weren’t there.”

Josuke couldn’t think of anything to say. It was true, the enemy had taken her hostage while he was fighting off the thugs, clearly meant to distract him. “Look, that was a one time thing. If anything else happens, I’ll protect you, I promise.”

“Pinkie promise?”

He couldn’t make that promise, not really. Anything could happen to her, and he might not be able to do anything. But he knew he would keep Emily safe to the best of his ability, and plus, it wasn’t his job to make promises, it was his job to ease her adrenaline. “Pinkie promise.” He wrapped his finger around Emily’s, and it sealed the deal.

When Josuke finally found the exit, he sighed with relief. But the tough part had only begun, because he could still feel Emily trembling in his arms.

“Aw, poor girl,” he consoled. “Come on, let’s do something to take your mind off of this. Would you like some ice cream?”

“Uh-huh,” Emily answered plainly. Too terrified to even get excited over ice cream.

Josuke frowned, but quickly smiled when Emily looked at him. “Well, then, I know a really great place just across the street. Let’s go.”

While the two sat together on a park bench, Emily just stared at her cone, letting the ice cream melt in her hand.

It’s only gonna get worse, and if you’re acting like this already, then you have a long life ahead of you, is what Josuke wanted to say, but he kept that to himself. She was only two. Her brain wasn’t ready for that experience quite yet. She would deal with these situations better when she was older. Instead, he said, “Come on, just one little lick? I bet you that one lick will make you feel better.”

“I’m scared,” was the only thing that came out of Emily’s mouth.

“Aw, there’s nothing to be scared about,” Josuke rubbed the top of her head. “I’ll keep you safe from anything that tries to hurt you. Now, I promise you, you’ll feel a lot better if you eat some of that ice cream.”

“Mommy and Daddy fight the bad guys,” Emily continued, “but some of them don’t get fighted. What do the ones that don’t get fighted do?”

Josuke gulped. She was already starting to realize that not every enemy would be fought before someone, like her, got hurt. She was lucky she was so young, or she’d realize that her Stand was attributing to that factor, that she would be a target, that Walking on Sunshine is a blessing and a curse. “They hurt people,” he answered honestly. “They hurt people that didn’t do anything, like you and me, because it’s fun to them. That’s why your mommy and daddy do what they do, so that the people who get hurt can recover, and the ones that are hurting others are put somewhere safe, where they can’t hurt anyone else again. Of course, they can’t catch everyone, but because of them, the number goes down, and people’s lives become a little bit safer. And you know what? Sunshine there will protect you from the bad guys. It didn’t today, but that’s because the bad guy today blocked it out. Every other time something happens, Sunshine will save you.”

A small smile formed on Emily’s lips. She summoned her Stand, and patted its head.

“And you know what?” Josuke added.

“What?” Emily asked.

“When you get older and can control Sunshine more, maybe you can help stop bad guys, too.”

Emily giggled. “Yeah! I can stop bad guys just like Mommy and Daddy!” By the time she took a lick of her ice cream, half of it was on the sidewalk, but she was so happy she didn’t care.

“Josuke?” Lily’s voice called. “What are you doing here?”

“Huh? Oh! Mrs. Lily!” Josuke exclaimed as he turned around to face her. “We had an encounter with a Stand user, and I got Emily some ice cream to help her feel better. She was pretty shaken up after the attack.”

“An attack?” Lily repeated.

“Yeah, his ability made it so our Stands wouldn’t activate. Emily was in lots of danger, and I couldn’t do much about it.” Josuke sighed. “I understand if you don’t want me to babysit her anymore, since I already get in lots of dangerous situations.”

Lily laughed. “Actually, I was about to say that it was okay if you didn’t want to babysit her because she would get in lots of dangerous situations. I mean, not only is she a Stand user, but the daughter of two other Stand users actively fighting enemies. We wanted a Stand user to babysit her, not only so they knew about her abilities, but also because they could protect her the best while we were gone. Sorry about not telling you sooner.”

“No, wait, I’d love to keep watching over her!” Josuke replied. “I just thought that running into a Stand user and having Emily almost die would be too scary for you to handle.”

“Josuke, she’s going to get in danger’s way, no matter if a Stand user is watching her or not. I’d much rather it be someone who knows what the threat is babysitting her than someone who would only be able to call the police.”

“So I can keep the job?” Josuke asked.

Lily giggled. “Yes, you can keep the job. In fact, because you had to go out of your way to save and calm down Emily from that Stand attack, how about you get a little extra today? How about 10,000 yen?”

Josuke’s eyes widened. “That… wouldn’t you go broke giving me that much?”

“Not if it doesn’t happen every day,” Lily smiled. “It really does mean the world to Noriaki and I that you’re taking her off our hands. Thank you again.”

“It’s no problem, really!” Josuke said. “Well, I mean, except for today. That was a huge problem. But I can handle it. Your daughter is safe in my hands, I promise.”

“Mommy, guess what?” Emily suddenly blurted out after finishing her ice cream. “When I grow up, I’m gonna do your job and beat up bad guys with Sunshine!”

Lily couldn’t help but burst into laughter. “You will?” she asked, picking the little girl up. “Well, you have plenty of time to decide what you want to do, but I’m glad you want to help people. Say goodbye to Josuke!”

“Bye bye,” Emily grinned.

“Bye, Emily.” Josuke watched with a smiling face as Lily and Emily walked away.

Now then, it was getting late, he should go back to his house. With a light heart and a grin that couldn’t be wiped away if it killed him, Josuke walked back home, and despite the attack that almost ended him, life continued on as normal, just as it did every day.

[ununniliad]

Legion of Net.Heroes Volume 3 #2: "The TERROR of June 26th, 2019!"

<cover: A fancy hardcover lying on a messy desk, on whose cover is written in gold leaf, "On June Twenty-Sixth, Twenty-Nineteen, the Legion of Net.Heroes will DIE!">

----

It was June 23rd when the evidence was discovered.

The young, academic orc (also known as an orcademic) who worked in the library of LNH Headquarters, whose real name was Fred Gnarshteeth but who had for various reasons which we will not go into here decided to call himself Anal-Retentive Archive Kid II...

...slapped a manila folder on the desk, and put a VHS tape down next to it. Behind said desk stood Fearless Leader, Co-Deputy Leader of the Legion of Net.Heroes. The other Co-Deputy Leaders, Catalyst Lass and Cheesecake-Eater Lad, stood next to him, peering down at the folder. The post-WikiLull Ultimate Ninja leaned against the wall, silently watching the goings-on.

"According to this evidence," said ARAK II, "in three days, the LNH will face a villain more powerful than any we've ever seen before."

"Sounds like every other Tuesday," said Cheesecake-Eater Lad, mindfully keeping things light.

"Where does said evidence come from?" said Fearless Leader, keeping on-point.

"Library Lad was working on going through old LNH records when he disappeared," said ARAK. "Taking things from the archives that are in danger of being forgotten, and putting them in an accessible database in our modern systems. I've been trying to keep it going in his absence."

"Good job!" bubbled Catalyst Lass. "That kind of community-minded spirit is what keeps the LNH the LNH."

ARAK nodded in acknowledgment, letting himself savor a little bubble of warmth in his belly, then continued briskly. "This is a twenty-five-year-old statement taken from an incident type 214."

"Time traveler who has come back on a last desperate mission to change the future," said Fearless Leader.

"Just so," said ARAK. "In this case, the time traveler was Poignant Death Lass."

"Who wouldn't even join the LNH until years later," said Catalyst Lass.

"Right," said ARAK. "The statement was taken by Sig.File Man. PDL, badly wounded but still mostly lucid, described a foe who came out of nowhere; a man filled with enormous cosmic power, burning out his body, and blaming the LNH for everything that had gone wrong with his life. He ripped through all of our strongest hitters, and was in the midst of blowing apart the LNHQ when she was sent back. After handing over the tape, she passed out, and was taken to sickbay, where..." He sighed. "Well, where you can guess what happened." 

Cheesecake-Eater Lad and Catalyst Lass looked up at Fearless Leader, who had been the sole survivor of a very similar attempt at averting worldwide disaster - an attempt that had failed. But he had grown since then, kept moving forward and recovering, and seen this Legion through many more moments of near-destruction. His face was calm, focused. "Right. And the tape?"

ARAK nodded, and signaled. wReamhack wheeled in a metal cart with a VCR and a CRT TV on it. ARAK slid the tape in and pressed play.

   The lawn of the LNHQ, everything quiet and normal. Suddenly, a streak of light flies through the air - and collides with a hastily-activated defense shield.

   Before the shield, a man floats in the sky, his features washed out by a crackling field of energy that surrounds him, bolts of blue, red, purple, white, lashing at the ground, curving off into space,. Where the energies intersect with the shield, it starts fading. "The LNH... you've been hurting me since I was a child... you killed my mother... NO MORE!" He rams his crackling hands against the shield, and it cracks apart! "REVENGE!"

   Kid Not Appearing In Any Retcon Hour Story, one of the LNH's heavy hitters, finally reaches the threat. They grapple, and the energy blasts into the Kid's form. "Nice try, net.asshole," grunts the man, "but you're going down like the Browns." The Kid cries out in agony, and holds on - but his form seems to wither and dwindle, and finally, he falls, a drained shell.

   The shield deactivates, and LNHers spill out of the HQ - whichever random members were in today. They engage, but the man plows thru them. "She was a sweet woman! She never did anything! Do you hate immigrants? Do you hate single mothers!? WHAT DID SHE EVER DO TO YOU!?" His own form withers as he moves inexorably forward, but he seems no less strong.

   Suddenly, Kid Kirby, the greatest cosmic hero of the Legion, appears, seated behind a huge, complicated-looking cannon. With a great flash of light, it pours a blast of coruscating energy into the man's form... but when the light dies down, the aura of energy is even stronger, occluding the man entirely. A searing blast from the man destroys the cannon, blows Kid Kirby to pieces, and blows a great hole in the side of LNHQ.

   "And now..." The man's voice is thin, halting. "Now..." He walks through the hole, into the heart of the LNHQ. "DIE!"

   From afar, the LNHQ can be seen glowing from within - and then a fireball consumes it - and spreads - and spreads, destroying, consuming the city--

   Nothing is left of Net.ropolis but a crater. The screen goes black.

Catalyst Lass let out a breath she hadn't been aware she'd been holding. Fearless Leader looked less calm, more grim. "That was... thorough."

ARAK tried not too look shaken - come on, he thought, you've watched this already, no surprises here. "Apparently, there was an automatic failsafe that recorded and sent the tape after everything came apart. Complete with the dramatic camera angles."

"I know Multi-Tasking Man has been working on something like that..." said Cheesecake-Eater Lad, his expression pale but determined.

"He's thorough too," said Fearless Leader, leaning back in his seat. "Anal-Retentive Archive Kid, your analysis?"

ARAK tapped his neatly-manicured claws on the desk. "As far as I can tell, this was our Legion, a Legion that had taken on the Bryttle Brothers, the Crossover Queen, the Mechanical Author... and we were defeated by someone we didn't even know about."

"But we should've known about him in this timeline," said Cheesecake-Eater Lad. "Why wasn't this flagged? We've had the next time the Time Crapper shows up scheduled for the last six months."

"It turns out there's a fairly simple answer to that, having to do, again, with time," said ARAK. "The statement was taken on June 26th, 1994. Twenty-five years before the incident, to the day..."

Cheesecake-Eater Lad's eyes went wide. "...and two days before..."

"Retcon Hour," said Catalyst Lass quietly. Her knuckles went white on the edge of the desk.

Retcon Hour, one of the messiest events in the Legion's history, involving multiple time-travelers creating a multitude of alternate timelines, then letting them overlap, overwrite, a million conflicting narratives at war. The LNH had defeated the mastermind behind it all, somehow, and Captain Continuity and the RACCelestial Madonna had put things back as they should have been - but everyone who had been through the final battle held onto strange, fragmented memories of things that had never been.

"After Retcon Hour, no one wanted to even think about changing the future," said Cheesecake-Eater Lad. "They were just happy that the LNH seemed to have a future."

ARAK nodded. "That makes sense. As far as I can tell, this file was put in the archives and left to gather dust. Nobody's thought about it in the last twenty-five years - until today."

"All right," said Fearless Leader, standing up. "We have three days of warning, and we're going to use them. First, we bring in all the forces we can. Every Legionnaire, ready to defend, on the day of the attack. Second, we search for any sign of this guy. He has to be out there somewhere. Maybe we can find a weakness. Maybe we can get to him before whatever triggered this attack happens."

"I'll rally the members!" said Catalyst Lass.

"I'll get our resources on the case," said Cheesecake-Eater Lad.

"Anal-Retentive Archive Kid," said Fearless Leader, "see if you can match the data on this to anything else in the archives. A villain we've fought before, a hero gone rogue, a cosmic confluence that fills random people with powers. Even if it seems like this guy came out of nowhere, he's got to have a past."

"Got it," said ARAK, standing straight and nodding firmly.

Catalyst Lass mm-hemed. Fearless Leader looked at her quizzically... "Oh, yes."

All three of the Co-Deputy Leaders looked to Ultimate Ninja. He stood up, cracked his knuckles, and gave a firm nod.

"Right," said Fearless Leader. "It's time to gather our strength. Legion... let's go!"

----

The call went out. Subgroups were pulled back from missions. Reservists were called to active duty. Characters whose writers had been inactive for years but were still technically on the roster gathered together offscreen.

Contraption Man and Multi-Tasking Man firmed up the LNH's defense grid. Occultism Kid, Shining Tungsten Magister and Kid Occultism Kid wove mystic wards. Johnny Stomper and Very Big Boy trained for combat with giants, while Doctor Stomper and Mashup Laq monitored for incursions from the Picoverse. Foreshadowing Lad reached out for clues and hints, while Kid Recap recalled the past. The leaders drafted plan after plan.

And ARAK dove deep into the archives, looking for the single clue that might save them all...

----

The day came. At the break of dawn, the massed forces of the Legion of Net.Heroes gathered on the lawn of the LNHQ. Scouts spread out through the city. Satellites recorded every spark of net.ahuman power being used, looking for the spark that would turn into a wildfire.

At full readiness, they waited.

...and they waited...

...and they waited.

By mid-morning, Cheesecake-Eater Lad, Frat Boy and Shake-n-Bake Lass were distributing breakfast in shifts, each LNHer on edge, ready to rise from their meal and fight.

By noon, a bunch of blankets had been brought out to spread on the lawn, and the LNHers were sitting to conserve their energy, having little conversations to keep their minds sharp, but still ready for the fight. Lunch was served in picnic baskets, and LNHers snacked on fortifying sandwiches and cheesecakes. Soda, juice, and bottles of water were pulled from a series of coolers and passed around.

By mid-afternoon, there were five games of Magic: The Gathering going on and three D&D campaigns, there was a screen set up showing all seven Vorkosigan Saga movies, and a Lego model of the LNHQ was in progress. Anal-Retentive Archive Kid II leaned against the door to the LNHQ, Catalyst Lass standing next to him and soaking in some sun.

ARAK sighed. "I've been searching for the last three days, and there's nothing. Not just no other appearances of this guy, but no evidence someone like him has ever existed. Like, take a look at this..." He held up a clipboard with the statement on it, and a transcript of the tape. "The guy was talking about how the LNH killed his mom. So I look up bystander fatalities. Not a common thing with us, but it can happen. Then I look up the children, follow up their histories... I found three that had ever shown powers, one of whom lives in Nepal now, one of whom is an investment banker in Cleveland, and one of whom is actually a member of the LNH. And here - it says that he spoke with a midwestern accent, and he was talking about 'the Browns'. So I started checking in the Cleveland area, but there's like a dozen active net.heroes over there and none of them had tangled with any cosmic villains in the last year." He shook his head. "It's all like that. Nothing comes together, there's no person for whom all of this fits." He looked up at Catalyst Lass. "I'm sorry. I lead us on a wild goose chase."

Cat smiled and put her hand on his shoulder. "Hey, it's okay. It's better to be proactive and have it turn out to be nothing than to ignore things and have them turn out to be something." She gestured out towards the crowd on the lawn. "Besides, you got everybody together for a picnic!"

"Mmmm... yeah, that's fair." ARAK looked over the gathered crowd, and tried to relax, to take an actual break. If only he could be sure, though...

"Oh, hey, Cat." ARAK looked up. Two men were coming towards them; one was older, and dressed in blues and grays, in that distinctive coordination that told ARAK he was a net.hero in a casual version of his costume; the other, younger, wearing a T-shirt and khaki shorts on the hot June day.

Catalyst Lass squeaked in surprise and delight. "Sig.File Man!" She pushed herself off the wall and wrapped him up in a tight hug, then let go, stepping back, holding him by the shoulders and looking him over. "It's been so long! How've you been? Who's this?"

Sig.File Man laughed good-naturedly. "Pretty good, thanks. And you're right, it's been forever." He gestured to the younger man. "This is my son, Adam. He lives in Net.ropolis. I flew over for a visit, and we heard the LNH was having some kind of shindig, so I decided to stop by."

"Your son?" Catalyst Lass clapped her hands. "I didn't know you had kids!"

Sig.File Man smiled. "Just the one. Remember after I left the LNH, and sent those Christmas cards with that cute girl and the little boy? That was him and his mom."

"Ohhh!" Cat grinned. "He's grown up so big and strong, good job! Does he have powers?"

"Well, yeah..." Sig.File Man leaned in and spoke quietly. "He's not interested in being a net.hero, but I figured you-all might be able to help train him anyway. He's got a kind of phobia of this place, or I would've brought him by years ago." He tilted his head towards Adam. "He's been going to a new therapist lately, and even coming here is a big step up."

"Ohhhh, of course!" trilled Cat. She stepped over to Adam. "Hullo there! I'm Catalyst Lass, Co-Deputy Leader of the Legion of Net.Heroes! Would you like a bit of a tour?"

"Oh, well..." Adam looked down, but then looked back up at Catalyst Lass, and was, like so many, swept up by her honest enthusiasm. "I guess we could."

He followed her into the LNHQ, leaving ARAK and Sig.File Man alone. ARAK looked down at the clipboard in his hand... oh, what an opportunity! "Say, Sig.File-- ah, I guess I should ask your real name."

"Sigmund Ampulle," said the former Sig.File Man, and stuck out his hand.

ARAK smiled. "Fred Gnarshteeth." They shook, and ARAK pointed to the clipboard. "Do you remember taking this statement? For obvious reasons, it's been on my mind today."

"Hmmm..." Sigmund took the clipboard and glanced over the top page. "Oh, yes, this..." He blinked, and leaned in, squinting at the date on top. "...ah. Of course..." He looked up at the gathering of LNHers. "Of course it would be today that we came by..."

ARAK tilted his head. "Er... pardon me?"

Sigmund chuckled. "Sorry, but... let me tell you a story..."

"Back in 1994, I was starting to drift away from the LNH. My old team, the Tantalizing Teens, had broken up a couple years before. Cliche Dude and SideKick Man had joined the Legion alongside me, but Cliche Dude had left for a space mission with Halls Jordan, and SideKick Man had turned out to be an evil robot all along. That stung, of course, and I was left with few close friends in the community. Then an old enemy ran me over with a bulldozer..."

"Eesh," said ARAK.

"Yeah, right? So I wasn't exactly having fun as an LNHer. But I didn't really know where I should go next."

"Then this fell in my lap. I figured, why not stop this before it starts? So I started making plans to go to Cleveland and investigate. Then..." Sigmund sucked in a breath. "Retcon Hour happened. I barely remember the bulk of it; I think at one point I was the leader of an all-singing all-dancing theater troupe version of the Legion?" He chuckled. "But it was big and it was stressful and it was just another indication that maybe this wasn't the kind of life for me. So those plans turned a bit longer-term than they used to be."

"I rented an apartment and tried to track down the 'mom' mentioned - doing some of the fancy detective work I hadn't really done since my Tantalizing Teens days. I found a few different women who fit the clues; but there was only one of them, Sarah Hernandez, who was raising a young son alone, ever since his male genetic donor had walked out on them. I kept an eye on the others, but made friends with Sarah, hoping that I could keep them out of any net.hero-related trouble."

"A young son..." ARAK looked over his shoulder at the LNHQ, then back at Sigmund, eyebrow raised.

"Yep." Sigmund nodded. "Sarah and I ended up falling in love by Christmas. By then, I'd heard about their backstory - how they'd been visiting Net.ropolis during Retcon Hour and been temporarily pulled into an alternate universe where the LNH were all these terrifying evil robots, and Adam had ended up rather traumatized."

"I see..." The pieces fit, indeed, thought ARAK.

"We got married a couple of years later," said Sigmund. "By then, I'd formally retired from the LNH and set up a detective agency. I figured, well, maybe just by coming here I'd prevented a tragedy."

"Only there was a tragedy still on its way. It turned out Sarah had a degenerative neural disease..." He sighed. "With no cure." 

"Oh..."  said ARAK, unsure how to respond. He settled on, "I'm so sorry."

Sigmund shook his head. "Don't worry about it. That was a long time ago, now. And, this time, I was there to support both of them thru it." He looked off into the distance. "It was during the stress of that whole mess that Adam's powers activated. Powers to channel cosmic energy. He was pretty freaked out by them, to be honest - freaked out by anything related to net.heroes - and for a while he thought he'd messed up his mom. The doctors told him he couldn't have, that that wasn't how disorders like this work. But he ended up repressing them pretty hard."

"He's doing better now, though?" said ARAK, encouragingly.

"Yeah. Not city-destroyingly better, thankfully. I guess, in the other timeline, without therapy, without anybody, he just ended up obsessing, and..." Sigmund raised his hands, motioned pushing something away. "Anyway. Yeah. Much better, and has been quite stable for a long time."

"Good," said ARAK, and meant it. "I guess, then, you've saved the city - and I can close this file, which is nearly as relieving."

Sigmund laughed. "Guess so." He handed the clipboard back. "Turns out there's a lot of ways to do this job."

"Yeah. And the people who take care of it before it becomes a problem don't get nearly enough credit for it." ARAK tucked the clipboard under his arm. "Would you like to come down to the archives and help me close this file out? I'd like to give you credit, after all this time."

"Aw. Well, far be it for me to maintain false modesty." Sigmund opened the door of the LNHQ, and ARAK stepped thru.

And the picnic ended up going on past dusk, until the moon rose over the city of Net.ropolis.

[cheemers-writing-archive]

Crusader of Life 2: Chapter 15

“Josuke, my feet are tired,” Emily complained. Although they had been to the park many times before, Emily still needed a rest every couple of blocks. Of course, she was two, so it made sense.

“Alright, then, hop onto my back,” Josuke told her. He bent down, and Emily jumped up, latching on to his shoulders.

“Now, then, which way is the way to the park?” Josuke asked. He had done that every time they came across an intersection, and so far, she had answered every one perfectly. He just wanted to make sure that she could get back to his house safely in case an enemy ambushed them, because he could feel eyes watching his every move.

“Straight!” Emily answered confidently.

“Good job, Emily!” He would just turn back now, but that would be too suspicious, and it would alert Emily of the danger. “Going straight!”

If the enemy was watching him, or if there even was an enemy, wouldn’t they have attacked by now? Surely he was just imagining things. No, he’s never felt this way before going to the park, there had to be something-

Before his thought could finish, four people jumped from the trees and onto the pavement, Stands summoned.

“What’s this?” one of them asked.

“Two poor little victims for us to rob?” another laughed.

Josuke slowly put Emily’s feet on the ground, then turned to her. “You know the way back right? I want you to run. Run back home, and don’t stop until you get there. Got it?”

Emily nodded.

“Good. Then go! Run!”

Emily did as she was told, bolting back the way they came. While running, she bumped into a man and fell flat on her back.

“I’m sorry, Mister,” she said, getting herself up.

“Well, it looks like my little plan worked,” the man smirked. “Josuke left you all alone, thinking that would save you. It’s a shame it’ll be the exact opposite.”

Without warning, the man picked Emily up, covering her mouth with his arm. Now would usually be the time that Walking on Sunshine would show up and save its user, but even commanding it to show up, Emily couldn’t summon it. The only thing she could do was kick and thrash in attempts to break free from this man’s grasp, which did next to nothing.

“Now, then, how much should I ransom you for?” the man chuckled. “1,000,000 yen? 50,000,000 yen? Or maybe… someone’s life?”

***

“You guys were too easy!” Josuke laughed. “I took you all out in one hit!”

“Did you ever think that maybe that was the point?” one of the thugs asked.

Josuke’s smug grin instantly vanished. “What? Why would that be the point?”

“We didn’t even use our Stands to fight,” another thug pointed out.

“You should go look for Emily before it’s too late,” the third one taunted.

“What did you do to her?!” Josuke demanded. “Where is she?!”

“We didn’t do anything,” the last one smirked. “It was Mr. Kesu. You better find him before he does anything to your precious Emily.”

As soon as the thug was done speaking, Josuke sprinted away, calling Emily’s name everywhere he went. What was he going to tell Mr. Kakyoin and Mrs. Lily if he didn’t get there in time to save their little girl? How would he cope with another life being taken away before he could do anything? No, he didn’t need to think about the what ifs right now. He needed to find Emily before any of the what ifs happened.

“Emily! Where are you?” Josuke shouted.

“Josuke!” Emily’s voice cried out. “Help me!”

Josuke’s head turned to the noise, which was coming in straight from an abandoned warehouse.

“Don’t worry, Emily!” he yelled. “I’ll save you!”

He ran straight into the warehouse, running around the eerily empty hallways. Emily kept making noise, so he followed her voice, changing direction when she got quieter. He was getting closer, he could tell, because her anxious cries were louder, and louder, and louder, until…

“And now, you’re truly trapped, Josuke,” a man chuckled. Right next to him was a chair holding a roped down Emily, screaming and kicking in an attempt to escape.

“Kesu!”

“Yes, that’s indeed my name,” Kesu replied.

“You let her go right now!” Josuke demanded.

“Oh? And what will you do if I don’t?”

“I’ll have Crazy Diamond make your insides out!” Right next to Josuke, his Stand appeared, showing its appearance in order to scare Kesu. At least, it should have. Instead, nothing showed up.

“C-Crazy Diamond?” Josuke nervously laughed. “Where are you? I kind of need your help right now.”

“Why do you think your little Emily hasn’t escaped with Walking on Sunshine yet, hm?” Kesu asked. “I would love to know what you think is happening.”

Come to think of it, the only thing tying Emily down was a tight bind on her arms and legs. She could have easily lifted herself up and flew out of there. With that, and Crazy Diamond not showing up to aid Josuke, it was clear what was happening.

“A Stand!”

“And that Stand is exactly why you’re trapped, Josuke,” Kesu laughed. “So long as you’re within Danger Zone’s range, your Stand is jammed. You can’t summon it.”

Josuke was about to bolt out of the warehouse and call the police, until Kesu said sternly, “Now, don’t you run, Josuke. One step away from me, and I’ll slit this girl’s throat.” He reached for a knife in his pocket and held it near Emily’s neck. “And don’t think of punching me either, because one step towards me, and the girl will suffer the same fate.”

“Well, what do you want me to do?” Josuke asked. Kesu responded with a light chuckle, tossing a second knife to the boy in front of him.

“Kill yourself,” Kesu ordered. “Stab yourself somewhere fatal. I don’t care if it’s fast so your pain ends quickly, or slow so you can say your last goodbyes to little Emily, but make sure your life ends from that knife. Any retaliation, and… well, I’m sure you know what happens.”

Josuke gulped, staring down at the knife he was holding in his shaky hands. Emily had more of her life left than him, but she wasn’t old enough to have any true ambitions. But, if Emily died, then everyone would miss her, but they would miss Josuke if he died, too. Either way, he wasn’t getting paid anymore.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Kesu asked impatiently. “Is it your life or the girl’s?”

“I’m thinking, just wait a second!” Josuke snapped. “Geez.” After a few more moments, he closed his eyes shut, gritted his teeth, and held the knife up to his chest. He decided, in the end, that he would have to live with the fact that a little girl would have died because of him if he chose to save himself. Still, it was hard, having to impale his chest and kill himself, for obvious reasons. He kept pulling the knife back as soon as it poked him. Then, right before he made the final move to end his life, he heard a familiar and reassuring voice.

“Drop the knife, Josuke!”

Josuke’s hands let go of the weapon as soon as he heard Jotaro, letting the metal clang to the floor.

“Mr. Jotaro, thank goodness!” Josuke heaved. When he reopened his eyes, he saw his nephew untying Emily’s restraints, with an either unconscious or dead Kesu on the floor. “How’d you find us?”

“There was another door on the other side of the building, and I was going to investigate this place, anyway,” Jotaro explained. I turned a corner, and saw you, Emily, and this guy. Based on the fact that neither of you had your Stand summoned, especially Emily since hers activates automatically to save her, I knew his ability must have been interfering with yours in some way. I summoned Star Platinum, and he seemed to be working just fine, so his range was either small, or he was controlling its range in order to keep his presence discreet. Either way, I stopped time, yanked the knife out of his hand, and beat him to a pulp before time moved again.”

“Josuke!” Emily ran over to him and clung to his leg. Her tears stained his pants.

“She looks really upset,” Jotaro said. “You should probably ease her pain.”

“But she’s not hurt,” Josuke replied. He lifted Emily into his arms, and she continued to cry into his shoulder. “Crazy Diamond can’t fix her if she’s not hurt.”

“I don’t mean her physical pain,” Jotaro rolled his eyes. “I mean that you should probably find a way to take her mind off of what just happened.”

“Wha-? What am I supposed to do?” Josuke asked.

“I don’t know. You’re her babysitter,” Jotaro smirked. He started walking off, but before he was gone, he turned back. “But seriously, she’s only two, if you don’t make her forget about it all then she’s going to be severely traumatized.”

Josuke gulped. Now it was his job to take care of this crying child in his arms. “Wasn’t even concerned about me, the guy who almost killed himself,” Josuke muttered. “Well, let’s get you out of here, for starters. This place is creepy.”

It was much easier finding Emily than it was finding the exit. Emily could lead Josuke on with her desperate screams for help, but nobody was yelling loud enough to hear from where they were.

“Are we lost?” Emily asked.

“No, no, we’re not lost,” Josuke lied. “And even if we were, I’d keep you safe.”

“But what about that guy?” Emily pouted. “You said to run and he grabbed me when you weren’t there.”

Josuke couldn’t think of anything to say. It was true, the enemy had taken her hostage while he was fighting off the thugs, clearly meant to distract him. “Look, that was a one time thing. If anything else happens, I’ll protect you, I promise.”

“Pinkie promise?”

He couldn’t make that promise, not really. Anything could happen to her, and he might not be able to do anything. But he knew he would keep Emily safe to the best of his ability, and plus, it wasn’t his job to make promises, it was his job to ease her adrenaline. “Pinkie promise.” He wrapped his finger around Emily’s, and it sealed the deal.

When Josuke finally found the exit, he sighed with relief. But the tough part had only begun, because he could still feel Emily trembling in his arms.

“Aw, poor girl,” he consoled. “Come on, let’s do something to take your mind off of this. Would you like some ice cream?”

“Uh-huh,” Emily answered plainly. Too terrified to even get excited over ice cream.

Josuke frowned, but quickly smiled when Emily looked at him. “Well, then, I know a really great place just across the street. Let’s go.”

While the two sat together on a park bench, Emily just stared at her cone, letting the ice cream melt in her hand.

It’s only gonna get worse, and if you’re acting like this already, then you have a long life ahead of you, is what Josuke wanted to say, but he kept that to himself. She was only two. Her brain wasn’t ready for that experience quite yet. She would deal with these situations better when she was older. Instead, he said, “Come on, just one little lick? I bet you that one lick will make you feel better.”

“I’m scared,” was the only thing that came out of Emily’s mouth.

“Aw, there’s nothing to be scared about,” Josuke rubbed the top of her head. “I’ll keep you safe from anything that tries to hurt you. Now, I promise you, you’ll feel a lot better if you eat some of that ice cream.”

“Mommy and Daddy fight the bad guys,” Emily continued, “but some of them don’t get fighted. What do the ones that don’t get fighted do?”

Josuke gulped. She was already starting to realize that not every enemy would be fought before someone, like her, got hurt. She was lucky she was so young, or she’d realize that her Stand was attributing to that factor, that she would be a target, that Walking on Sunshine is a blessing and a curse. “They hurt people,” he answered honestly. “They hurt people that didn’t do anything, like you and me, because it’s fun to them. That’s why your mommy and daddy do what they do, so that the people who get hurt can recover, and the ones that are hurting others are put somewhere safe, where they can’t hurt anyone else again. Of course, they can’t catch everyone, but because of them, the number goes down, and people’s lives become a little bit safer. And you know what? Sunshine there will protect you from the bad guys. It didn’t today, but that’s because the bad guy today blocked it out. Every other time something happens, Sunshine will save you.”

A small smile formed on Emily’s lips. She summoned her Stand, and patted its head.

“And you know what?” Josuke added.

“What?” Emily asked.

“When you get older and can control Sunshine more, maybe you can help stop bad guys, too.”

Emily giggled. “Yeah! I can stop bad guys just like Mommy and Daddy!” By the time she took a lick of her ice cream, half of it was on the sidewalk, but she was so happy she didn’t care.

“Josuke?” Lily’s voice called. “What are you doing here?”

“Huh? Oh! Mrs. Lily!” Josuke exclaimed as he turned around to face her. “We had an encounter with a Stand user, and I got Emily some ice cream to help her feel better. She was pretty shaken up after the attack.”

“An attack?” Lily repeated.

“Yeah, his ability made it so our Stands wouldn’t activate. Emily was in lots of danger, and I couldn’t do much about it.” Josuke sighed. “I understand if you don’t want me to babysit her anymore, since I already get in lots of dangerous situations.”

Lily laughed. “Actually, I was about to say that it was okay if you didn’t want to babysit her because she would get in lots of dangerous situations. I mean, not only is she a Stand user, but the daughter of two other Stand users actively fighting enemies. We wanted a Stand user to babysit her, not only so they knew about her abilities, but also because they could protect her the best while we were gone. Sorry about not telling you sooner.”

“No, wait, I’d love to keep watching over her!” Josuke replied. “I just thought that running into a Stand user and having Emily almost die would be too scary for you to handle.”

“Josuke, she’s going to get in danger’s way, no matter if a Stand user is watching her or not. I’d much rather it be someone who knows what the threat is babysitting her than someone who would only be able to call the police.”

“So I can keep the job?” Josuke asked.

Lily giggled. “Yes, you can keep the job. In fact, because you had to go out of your way to save and calm down Emily from that Stand attack, how about you get a little extra today? How about 10,000 yen?”

Josuke’s eyes widened. “That… wouldn’t you go broke giving me that much?”

“Not if it doesn’t happen every day,” Lily smiled. “It really does mean the world to Noriaki and I that you’re taking her off our hands. Thank you again.”

“It’s no problem, really!” Josuke said. “Well, I mean, except for today. That was a huge problem. But I can handle it. Your daughter is safe in my hands, I promise.”

“Mommy, guess what?” Emily suddenly blurted out after finishing her ice cream. “When I grow up, I’m gonna do your job and beat up bad guys with Sunshine!”

Lily couldn’t help but burst into laughter. “You will?” she asked, picking the little girl up. “Well, you have plenty of time to decide what you want to do, but I’m glad you want to help people. Say goodbye to Josuke!”

“Bye bye,” Emily grinned.

“Bye, Emily.” Josuke watched with a smiling face as Lily and Emily walked away.

Now then, it was getting late, he should go back to his house. With a light heart and a grin that couldn’t be wiped away if it killed him, Josuke walked back home, and despite the attack that almost ended him, life continued on as normal, just as it did every day.

[julystorms]

Roy Mustang/Riza Hawkeye

(no longer accepting)

A+: OTP

LOOK. I did not expect to like a ship this much, but here we are. It’s such a good ship. Fandom misinterprets half of it and it weathers the storm. It’s so good. Two people whose lives intersected at one point and get tangled up in all kinds of genuinely terrible shit for the rest of their lives...yet they don’t become hateful spiteful people. They just keep pressing on. Together. To make changes they want to see happen in the world. 

Like there is nothing about this ship that doesn’t mess me up. Roy as a kid basically, so well-meaning. Wants to learn flame alchemy. He meets Riza and maybe they were kind of friends or maybe not; we’re not really told. But after the death of her father, she sees how much Roy wants to make a difference and she feels like she can trust him. He’s a good person. He wouldn’t betray her. So she gives him the secrets to flame alchemy.

And look not to sidebar too hard here but her getting that tattoo in the first place is questionable on so many levels. Her father was a scummy sunnuvabitch if you ask me. He was selfish and he used her. Here, you can guard the secret. Not with your mind, though. I’ll put it on your back so that you can’t even see it. Only someone else can get the secret via using you--via putting you (whether by asking or forcing you) in a vulnerable position of undress for hours at a time. Riza is just a vehicle for her father’s research; was she ever even a person to him?

And the thing is, Master Hawkeye knew it was dangerous and he still put it on her. He wouldn’t train Roy how to use it, right? Because the poor guy was just too young and naive! Rather than explain to Roy why it was a bad idea, even gently telling him how the real world worked, without even trying to reason with him, he Dumbledored it up and forced this terrifying burden on his daughter--not knowing or maybe just not caring that there might be people out there willing to hurt her to get that knowledge. She could have been used by other people for the rest of her life. And she doesn’t even know what it says. There’s some misogynistic crap hiding in that metaphor.

But Riza thinks, hey, Roy is a good person and he means well; I like the way he looks at the world and I like his enthusiasm. His ideals are good and pure. So she gives this part of her to him...and he spends a lot of time sitting with her just staring at her naked back studying the information there. We don’t know how she feels about it. Maybe she feels she’s doing a service to the world. Maybe she’s bored and feels a little used, like a worn textbook--at least until Roy says something or does something that lets her know he knows she’s a person--that she’s living in that skin and it’s not just warm parchment for him to study.

And then Roy breaks the code. He’s a boy, yet. He breaks the code and learns flame alchemy and then he goes to war and takes it with him--thinks he’s fighting for his country, thinks maybe it’s for something good. He realizes really fast that he’s put himself into a terrible position. He kills people, far more than Maes does. Far more than Riza manages to as a sniper. He just wipes human lives off the face of the planet and he barely has to think about it.

(Except he does. He can’t stop thinking about it.)

And then he runs into Riza on the front lines and sees what he’s done. Roy can’t take all the blame, of course, even if he wants to. Riza is her own person and he’s always known that about her; he’s always seen her as capable of making her own decisions. She chose this life for herself.

But she chose it based on the things he said; she believed in his incorrect idealistic view of the world they lived in. 

Her father was right about flame alchemy but he was a terrible person for everything he did. His research yielded something terrible and rather than throw it away he put it on his daughter’s skin. He spent his life chasing something and couldn’t bear the idea of leaving the world with nothing to show for it. Master Hawkeye never saw Riza as a good enough thing in his life, probably because he barely acknowledged her existence--spent his life chasing the secrets of flame alchemy instead of forging a bond with his own child.

And because of all this, they both end up fighting a war they don’t believe in, doing terrible things because they don’t know what else to do. What’ll happen to them if they just refuse to fight? Will they just die? Be killed? It’s a tough place to be in and it’s impossible to enact change from six feet under the ground. Roy acquires new ideals and Riza does too: starting with her back.

She makes another decision, this time to destroy her father’s research even though it means her own pain. Wouldn’t the government love a hundred men with power like Roy and minds soft as porridge? They could have it if they knew what was on her back. She’s spent all her career hiding that tattoo enough that nobody knew what it was, but she can’t do it forever. How long before someone comes looking for her father and finds her--thinks she knows something?

She honestly knows nothing but they could get the information from her body, and her body is her own. She has autonomy over it and asks Roy to destroy it with the very thing it yielded: flame alchemy.

And Roy does so--not with any delight. He’s hurt so many people with that secret. The last person he wants to hurt with it is Riza but in many ways he’s already hurt her with it, too. What’s one last time, right? When she’s demanding it? When he knows it has to be destroyed somehow and there’s no good way of doing it--not without letting someone else see it. Can they trust anyone else with it? She couldn’t even really trust him.

Except that she could, and she did, and does; even after all they’ve been through, she still trusts him. With it. With her body. With her heart, too. She’ll follow him into the depths of hell, not because she loves him so much, but because she’s a murderer, too; because she’s not a better person than he is and they both know it. Because they’re in this together. They have each other’s backs and by the time the main series gets moving, it’s clear they have each other’s hearts, too. A delicate balance between them, holding each other up. 

And look, they could betray each other at any point but they never do. Riza knows Roy and she’s always known him. He’s a good person. He made a mistake that cost him his innocent view of the world, and in a manner of speaking, cost her hers, too. But it was her choice to join the military just as it was her choice to give him the secret. He didn’t coerce her into anything; he only spoke his mind. She had the freedom of choice. She trusted him then and she trusted him again when she saw what he was doing on the front lines and how he hated it--hated himself. And later, when she knew he’d do anything to fix the corrupt government they’ve all been living under that would allow this to happen, that trust only grew.

Because Roy was willing to get into power only to pass laws that would put him on trial and get him sentenced to death for his crimes--crimes he was ordered to commit and didn’t refuse. Riza was willing to do the same. That is another choice she makes, to aid Roy in achieving that goal knowing exactly what will happen to the both of them. She will be with him always. They are the same. She will follow him into hell in this way, too: willingly.

Look, Roy and Riza are often portrayed as this cute sweet loving romantic couple but their bond was forged in tragedy and they will spend the rest of their lives atoning futilely for the crimes they committed. Roy might have killed more people but he didn’t have to stare at them through the rifle scope. Kimblee might have been intentionally cruel with his comment to Riza about finding satisfaction in eliminating a target but the reason she flinches when he says it is because it’s true. She does feel that spark of satisfaction when she hits her target--when she kills someone.

They aren’t this deeply sweet and fluffy couple. They have been drowning in guilt for a large percentage of their lives and they will probably feel that way until the day they die.

The reason they’re such good characters is because they actively try to make change so that something like that doesn’t happen again. And they’re a good couple because everything they do is founded on this immensely deep trust and understanding of one another. They share a bond that nobody else in the entire series shares--not even Maes and Roy (though their bond is another very strong lovely one created under similar circumstances, Maes was at least just a regular soldier during the war; what makes this especially tragic is that Maes dies for this cause but Roy no doubt feels it should have been him instead; he’s the one who would deserve it, after all).

And I know the atrocities they committed are pretty awful, but I like that both characters are very human in this way. They made terrible choices and mistakes and know they can never make up with that. They’re also wise enough to know they can’t make up for it with their lives, either; they are only two people. The best good they can do in the world is to use their power and brains to get in a position where they can make and pass laws to prevent further atrocities, even if in making those laws, they sentence themselves to death. They were never paying for their crimes with their lives by dying, but by living. It doesn’t change what they did but it’s incredible to think about.