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danddymaro · 4 years ago

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Sleep | Jean Pierre Polnareff x Reader

Just an idea I had in mind. It’s a Polnareff thing, but I guess if you really, really squint, it could also be a DIO thing,

Maybe, ¯\_(　´∀｀)_/¯

Word count : 2183

She remembers her encounters with DIO, having crossed paths with him more than once.

She’d run from him the first two times, fleeting from the vampire , only because he allowed her to, each time chuckling as she managed to ‘slip’ away.

And she wasn’t stupid to think she’d somehow outsmarted him, or cocky enough to taunt him by living her every day life as normally as she had before. Instead, she secluded herself, hiding from everyone and everything, afraid of even her own shadow, well aware it could just be him in disguise.

She knew that it was only a matter of time before he hunted her down again, toying with her like a malicious little feline, pawing at a cornered, shivering, mouse.

Because to him, it was all a game, while to her, it was a never ending nightmare.

With an incurable insomnia she waited, every night staring up at the ceiling, blankly gazing at it as she felt her heart race, feeling impending doom fall upon her.

‘Why me?’ She asked herself constantly.

It all started after that arrow pierced her...

All the abnormalities and unrest starting from that one event, one that was in-explainable in itself.

‘How did I even survive?’ She wondered, only briefly as it was the least of her worries.

It was tortuous weeks of unease until she finally met with her nightmare...

When he grew sick and tired of their game, he appeared before her, ready to take his claim,

‘Do you still have any fight in you?’ He wondered, knowing the answer as he eyed her, ‘Of course I’d never force you at my side, that’s all for you to decide my dear,’ He thought with a malicious grin.

He’d then shown her the extent of his power, red raining down on her as thuds were heard at her sides, severed corpses at her feet in a second’s time.

She hadn’t even known how he did it, but of all the red stained figures, he was all that was untouched, his alabaster skin glowing white brilliance from his chiseled body, too good for the remains of his slaughter to graze him.

Bloody gore puddled around her and shaken to the core she choked on a cry, her voice failing her, her ability to flee gone.

Her legs gave out before him, pitifully bowing to him, not intending to, but her body seeming to know it’s place before the creature,

“ (f/n) ” He cood, reaching for her.

Her racing heart stilled as he tenderly pressed his cold palms onto her wet cheeks, “You’re trembling...” he said observing her, watching her wide (e/c) eyes as they stared up at him, almost unblinking.

He was a monster...

He was terrifying...

And yet the sight of the golden haired man was so transcendent, he was like an angel descended onto the apocalypse.

Beauty fallen into the macabre...

“P-please...please don’t,” she begged, feeling his pointed, black nails drag over her as his fingers trailed beneath her glossy (e/c) eyes, wiping away hot tears in a way that it would be tender had it been anyone else.

“(f/n)....dear...” he said warmly, his gleaming eyes akin to drops of sweet, warmed honey.

DIO...

He was frighting ...

He was malicious and evil...

He was through and through A monster...

And yet, he was the only thing that could save her. He was the only thing powerful enough to protect her,

‘Only he ...Only he can,’ She thought numbly, melting into his hold, subdued.

“Nothing but DIO can hurt you, “ he promised her, “As well as nothing but DIO can save you now,” he murmured, satisfied as she fell onto his web.

She ignored the splashing sounds beneath her feet and palms, as well as the warm stickiness that smothered them and stained everything scarlet, all while she came closer to the powerful being, crawling to him more and as much as she could.

She was terrified, but at the very least, she knew that she was safe. She knew he could make her nightmares cease, and he could also protect her, saving her from a gruesome fate.

“Only I can,” he reminded her, large hands placed on her protectively , like a large and glorious beast guarding it’s fresh prey.

“Lord ...DIO...” she muttered softly, brokenly as she closed her eyes.

‘I am yours,’

...................................

(f/n)’s back stiffened straight as she shot up, her hazy eyes wide as she startled from her half-sleep state. She’d drifted off for only a moment, but she felt as though she’d been stuck back in time.

The distraught look to her (e/c) eyes soon melted as the black and white dog jumped on her lap, damn near starting her as she was already shaken from her nightmare.

Slowly, she came back down to earth, settling back into the present time where she wasn’t alone.

Where she wasn’t weak...

Despite all the tension in her body, and unease in her heart, she couldn’t help but pull up a gentle smile, “long day?” she asked him with light amusement, seeing as for the most part he went on his own adventures.

As per usual, the Creature didn’t respond, only letting out a very faint sound of a whine.

Meanwhile, Polnareff glared at the creature, his blue eyes darkly trained on the darned mutt.

Relaxed and fully pleased, Iggy ignored the menacing spite, instead laying his head onto his own front paws, his entire, tiny body curled over the (h/c) haired woman's lap.

Lazily scratching him behind his ear, (f/n) yawned into her other hand, her head leaning over to the side closer to the window as she began to drift off again, this time with more ease.

'Damn mutt, trying to act all cute with her,' Polnareff pouted, his gaze still heated.

With him it was nothing but snarls and farts, and with everyone else it was the same shitty attitude, but once you throw a pretty girl in the mix, the dog pretends to be the cutest , sweetest angel put on the planet.

And it was much worse if the lady in question was (f/n).

When she was around he would give her large , rounded sweet eyes, making her coo at even the simplest things.

For a moment he let his attention fall onto the female instead, his glaring eyes softened as he watched her slowly drift off.

'Ah...but I guess it's not so bad,' he tried to reason, a small smile rising as he watched the seemingly permanent worry cease from her brows.

The closer they drew, the more he could see the flesh beneath her (e/c) eyes darken. He knew she couldn’t sleep,and she didn’t have to openly admit it, it was plainly obvious to him.

DIO had nested a terror in her she couldn't shake, one that left her quivering, so much so that even after the wretched flesh bud that possessed her was removed, she was hesitant to betray him.

And it was something Jean Pierre Polnareff could forget,

..........................................................................

(Flashback)

"He'll kill me…" she said with fright, true and utter fear visible in her (e/c) eyes as she panicked.

Her stand rose to protect her as her arms pressed themselves close to her chest, hands trembling as they pressed over her quivering mouth.

"No matter what I do... He'll find me...and He’ll kill me!" She added, while crying out to the silver haired man, “Do you understand what you've done?” she choked out.

He wouldn't have mercy…

He’d see it as treason...

"I'll never be free from this nightmare," she sorrow filled.

That day the Frenchman felt sweetness, a draw to her that was desperate to protect her.

Perhaps it was the part that missed his little sister, trying to find another reason to live, another thing to protect.

Something else to cling on...

He wasn’t entire sure what it was that fueled him, but he drew towards her. As he watched her tremble, he stepped forward, Silver Chariot drawn away.

“You’re going to be alright,” he told her, making sure to be slow with his steps to not alarm her further.

Shaking her head she muttered, “You don’t understand, He’ll kill me,” she responded back, her own stand drawn back.

He was uncertain on why it retreated, not knowing if she had a part of her willing to have him reach out to her, or that her mental state was just so weakened, her ability faltered.

Nonetheless, he took the chance.

His teeth pressed together as he reached out to her, hands placed at her cheeks, forcing her (e/c) eyes to stare right into his,

“ Is this what you call living ? ” he asked her, knowing his voice was rougher than it should be, but he couldn't help it.

He felt himself snapping, something about the woman and her current state making him move in accordance to his heart, any rational thinking telling him to step back from the potential threat being ignored.

“ Grovelling in fear... not living for yourself!” he went on. “wouldn't you rather live for yourself? Live for yourself than die without honor? Die being under control, stuck beneath that monster?” he asked her.

Her mouth moved , but she was wordless, gaping.

"He’s too powerful,” she finally told him, “ And I...I’m afraid...I’m too weak...And I’m all alone...” she said with a voice so small it tunneled in through his cracked heart.

And it was right then and there he decided,

“ He won’t touch you. “ He said lowly.

She began to shake her head, not believing him, not convinced anything could save her, thinking her fate was sealed already.

“I won’t let him ,” He added, “ I swear to you nothing will ever harm you again,” he assured her, “ But you also have to fight...” he told her, urging her.

The others watched, the dark haired teen stepping forward an inch as he spoke,

“Tch, Good grief, “ Jotaro huffed, “ He’s not going to lay a hand on you,” he told her, having had enough of the emotional display. “Not if I've got anything to say about it,” He said while pointing his thumb towards his chest, “And I’m sure we’re all on the same page with that , right?” he said with certainty, inclining his head back to the rest of the crew, receiving nothing but nods.

And for once in what felt like a lifetime she felt growing assurance,

‘You all have fear and yet, you move towards him,’ she observed. ‘Unlike me... ‘She added to herself, smiling bitterly.

She felt self pity, a loathing as well, and at her sides her hands balled, shaking as she pressed her teeth together.

She learned she hadn't been the only one to be forced under his will, because so had the redheaded teenager allied with the Joestars, as well as the silver haired man that urged her to stand.

The same one who still held her face in his hands, knelt right before her.

“I want to go with you all,” she said lowly, “ I want to join you not to be protected, but to end this,” she said raising her eyes to the deep blue’s before her.

Polnareff saw a hardened shine, easily compared to a glowing gem practically gleaming before him, and he was captivated,

Moved by her tears...

loured by her sweetness...

stunned by her glowing valor and will...

By then he was hooked, and slowly, but surely, Jean Pierre Polnareff had fallen in love with the woman for everything she was, aswell as who she attempted to grow into.

And at the time he hadn't been aware of the sentiment growing in her own heart. Unknown to him, the proclamation to defend her stunned her, and while she was still fearful of the deadly creature , she believed him.

She believed that the silver haired man would defend her tooth and nail. She believed that he’d be there for her.

And she also believed in the the men with him, all which assured her the same.

Since that moment she’d been steadfast with her new resolve, not backing away despite the closer they drew to DIO, and even in spite of the taunting assurance of death she’d receive from his minions.

She was unwavering, showing courage, but even then he could see the linings beneath her eyes grow darker.

She’d seemed so tired, that was until the mutt showed up...

He'd noticed that since the annoying dog had joined them she seemed much more well rested.

She even seemed happier…

She smiled a lot more too...

She showed off that sweet grin more often that his heart was now uneasy, not knowing how much more of her it could take before it burst.

Her movements stopped entirely, her stroking hand laying over the dog's head, unmoving.

Iggy huffed, his little body buzzing with snores as he, too, fell into slumber.

"That's actually kind of cute," Polnareff added, shaking his head. " I guess I can hand him a treat afterwards," he reasoned with a smile.

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fortune-fool02 · 5 years ago

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Time Has Stopped

Dio Brando x female reader

Requested by: @joliejolyne

Warnings: character death, angst

Please enjoy.

Time. The indefinite continued progress of existence and events in the past, present, and future regarded as a whole. Something no one could escape or hide from. It did not choose its victims; it was cold, cruel and merciless.

Life, itself, was a ticking clock, and when it reached it’s time, there was nothing anyone could do. The clock would stop and remain so for all eternity.

***

Everything was going as planned. The crusaders were weakened with the loss of two of their members -the Fortune Teller and the dog- and now their state was unstable; emotions clouding the judgement of the Frenchman. The battle shook the walls of the mansion, altering all those who inhabit it of the fight.

Yet, they had lost one of their best knights as a cost. Cool Ice was strong but his devotion to Lord Dio was the very thing that killed him. He was blinded by the need to punish those who insulted his Lord and burned in the sunlight as a result, finishing his own life.

As the last standing line of defence, [Name] took Cool Ice’s place in battle. She promised Lord Dio that she would not fail him and that she would return to him. He didn’t like the idea of her leaving his side, for he had grown attached to her and didn’t wish to see her meet the same fate as his other servants. [Name] told him that before she was his lover, she was his follower and that duty was still hers to fulfil.

She pressed a kiss on his lips, promising that she would return.

***

Dio had learnt that [Name] was a sentimental woman. This was discovered when he found her sitting on the balcony one night, holding something in her hands. There was such fondness in her [Eye colour] eyes as she gazed at the object held in her palms like it was a priceless treasure -which to her, it was.

A pocket watch. Dio asked her about it as he examined it, the watch was clearly old but was in pristine condition. No scratches, no dints or anything of that nature; and it kept track of time perfectly. He was almost jealous of such a thing in perfect condition.

“It’s a family heirloom. My father gave it to me when he died, passed on from my great grandfather.” [Name] explained.

“So it’s tradition to pass it down the generations?” Dio asked, handing her the watch again. She shrugged her shoulders.

“Kinda but not just that.” she said, “The thing is, each time the owner of this pocket watch dies, the time seems to stop when their heart does. The tradition is to start the pocket watch again and then pass it on when you die.” [Name] explained. She knew it sounded strange but it was something her family did and she honoured it; keeping the watch safe from damage as her family has for generations.

“Dio,” she spoke, “When I die, I want you to continue the tradition if I don’t have a child before I die.” That surprised him, though the look in her eyes told him this was not something to take lightly. She was as serious as discussing death. He pushed the pocket watch back towards her chest, keeping her hand closed around it.

“You will give it to your child in the future, once this has all passed, I will ensure it.” [Name] smiled at that and pressed a soft kiss on his lips.

***

Her Stand was unlike anything Polnareff had encountered. Swift, powerful and agile, he dared to say she was equal to Cool Ice despite not having that empty void. There was a burning determination flowing through her attacks that fuelled her fight, the intention to kill was evident in her eyes.

But there was a horrible flaw in her plan: Polnareff had reached his limit. Avdol and Iggy both died not moments ago by the hands of Cool Ice, his grief-ridden rage had not faltered with Cool Ice’s death. And now he was faced with another servant of Dio, he was not going to let his friends’ deaths be for nothing.

With the rage behind him, [Name] had little time to block or counter any of his attacks; the power of his attacks cutting through all her defences and her flesh. Blood spilled from her wounds with each strike of his blade and her body fell back, crumbling to the floor as a weight.

Polnareff could see it, how she twitched with agony. She was going to die, and instead of driving his sword through her head and ending her there, he turned and walked away, choosing to let her suffer rather than end her pain.

No words could leave her lips no matter how hard she tried, her body didn’t obey and move. Warm blood seeped from her wounds, pooling into a crimson puddle around her. Then she heard it. Footsteps, rapid ones as if someone was running; and then Dio was over her.

His eyes wide with concern as disbelief as he took in the sight of her body. He took her into his arms, telling her that he was going to help her and that she was not going to die. It was the most vulnerable [Name] had ever seen Dio.

“Di...o...” she force out, her voice weak as a whisper. Using the last of he strength, she pulled the pocket watch from her pocket and placed it into Dio’s hand. The once pristine watch now bared ugly scratches and dents though it still ticked. Dio shook his head but her eyes pleaded for him to take it.

“P-Please.... for me....” she smiled when she felt his hand curl around the watch and hers. Dio leaned down and pressed his lips against hers one final time, feeling her last breath ghost against his lips.

And the pocket watch fall silent.

#dio #dio brando #jojo bizarre adventure #dio x reader #dio brando x reader #jojo bizzare adventure x reader #jojo #jojo x reader #dio stardust crusaders #stardust crusaders #stardust crusaders x reader #female reader #reader insert

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invertedfate · 5 years ago

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Random Ask Dump - Anniversary Edition (50+ REALLY OLD ASKS!)

Going through OLD AND CRUSTY ASKS to try and chip away at the inbox. HERE WE GOOOO...

That’s an interesting idea, and I could run it by Cake, but I think it would honestly be a LOT to track from a programming perspective. Especially ‘cause killing Sans is gonna result in a “bad ending,” so to speak.

An attempt was made by Undyne to have all three hang out at the same time. Papyrus was SUPER EAGER. ...but one thing led to another and there were many messy explosions of chemicals and lots of smoke. Alphys had to step in before things got out of hand. It was all very daunting for her. Pap and Undyne are VERY LOUD, VERY AMBITIOUS PEOPLE.

I actually have some ideas of some side comics I may do at some point! :o It’s just that right now there’s a lot going on.

I need to poke Carni about that at some point. He’s just been very busy with other projects!

Clearly he’s standing on the “out to lunch” sign.

I wanna say that it’s very possible in theory. :o It probably affects them differently since monsters’ emotional state affects their magic and their physical state.

I do like little easter eggs like that, though I’m not sure where I’d fit it in atm just ‘cause I already showed Pap’s room, haha.

I made the chase theme for Mad Dummy as well as Mad Mew Mew’s battle theme. @pinewsun made the battle theme for Mad Dummy, and @thomasthepencil made the Season Dude battle theme and MD’s overworld theme. :o

That’s a really fascinating conundrum! You’re absolutely right- if IF was a standalone game, then from a writing standpoint, having more subtle implications would make sense! The reason I chose a different approach for IF is because it’s set after Flowey’s already known to be evil and I like to give different POVs rather than stick to just Frisk’s.

That’s an interesting thing, actually- both fights lean heavily on the fourth wall. Both are treated as climaxes for their given routes. It’s funny because Asriel’s fight is a lot more straightforward and less meta by comparison.

I agree! The thing with Papyrus is that he’s extremely powerful- he just doesn’t want to kill. But it’s a deliberate choice not to kill- he’s able to force his attacks to do next to no damage. He’s also pretty darn crafty, as he made the Gauntlet himself. It really is just a case of Undyne’s personal biases and concern for him.

That was a deliberate choice. :O Papyrus is very influential toward Frisk. He is best skeleboi.

Papybot loves you, anon! He just wants to feed you WHOLESOME SPAGHETTI!!!

It is possible to whistle through teeth. ...alternatively, magic. As for the music, Undertale implies that the music is heard! Maybe it’s just... a thing that exists in this world. Or it’s just meant to be a silly meta joke. I try to keep it somewhat ambiguous other than occasional nods to it. Chara’s pants are lighter because I just... felt like it, I guess? Haha. I wanted their feet and pants to stand out more from each other, so they have khaki pants. As for the Undyne fight being animated, well, this ask is old by now, but Sparks was the one who was down for it.

Well, the teaser’s been out for a long time now, but that’s the idea! It’s also why this has been in production for so long. The Determinator has some really over the top attacks (that weren’t even shown in the teaser), and Sparks animated in Photoshop. That’s how hardcore he is.

Shhhhh. Don’t give me ideas. I’m already slacking on Tem Village. :P

Sometimes I do have slumps and burnouts (see Antipode’s lengthy hiatus), but breaks lead to me being refreshed and coming back with even more enthusiasm than before!

Oh, there are a lot of these throughout the comic. For instance...

Flowey appears in a few background shots in the Ruins!

When Sans says “or maybe...” he looks at the empty flower pot. This was one of the earliest bits of foreshadowing about who created Flowey, and nobody noticed it at the time!

The MTT vending machines initially look like this but have helpful items.

And then they look like this, with an angry face and pose- Mad Dummy has possessed them!

As of Part 38, it’s been revealed that he did first meet Asgore as “Santa.” As for whether or not he knows the truth, time will tell. :o

Oh, these are excellent suggestions for calls! I’ll try to keep these in mind.

So, I believe Glyde uses the Mysterious Door motif. Jerry uses the motif in its battle theme- I believe it’s a mix of original motif and Wrong Number song?

Sans is a master of power napping. He probably gets a decent amount of sleep, though.

There are a lot of ways to interpret Pap’s lack of sleep! In IF, he can get by without it, but he also has a lot of reasons to avoid sleeping. Some reasons include productivity but also due to a looooot of heavy baggage. More on that later.

I think sleep can definitely make monsters healthier. Rest = better mental health as well as physical health, and with how important mental and emotional help is for monsters, that’s very important!

They just really like socks. Socks are warm. Socks are slinky. And googly eyes are the best. So they took on the form of a really eccentric sock puppet and sock collector. Scandalous.

It also has Alphys’ motif, as the two are the leaders of the royal guard!

I would say the lack of Asgore as an influence has left Undyne slightly less grounded? Like, she had Toriel and Gerson in her life, but her relationship with Toriel is... definitely not quite as close? Like, Toriel by that point kept people at an arm’s length due to losing multiple children (including one from old age). So, while they were on friendly terms until the aftermath of the DT experiments and the tapes’ release, it was more like mutual respect and a sorta professional relationship with Undyne admiring Toriel and wanting to spare her from more heartache.

That is a really interesting idea. While that didn’t happen, I do need to maybe revisit the grumpy dog at some point or another. He’s still a lil’ salty.

I think in terms of layout it won’t change much, but there will be new/different content for sure. :O

Mad Dummy’s base design is mostly original, but she has a wig + headband from DIO from Jojo Part 3! Fun fact: While MTT has Kamina shades, Papyrus’ goggles are loosely based on Simon from Tengen Toppa Gurren Lagann in terms of color. :O

So basically, when Asriel defeated Frisk, he had the power over the timeline to reset it as he pleased- in theory. However, that power was overwhelming for him, and due his lack of understanding OF said power and one last ditch attempt at resisting from Chara, things went wrong.

There is a track that takes some inspiration from Rage Awakened. It’s not released, and it’s not exact, but it won’t be released for a WHILE. Like until the part comes out.

I think it’s just the fact that tacos are so random. Like, my biggest beef in that regard was that OG Underswap had a lot of arbitrary replacements for things in UT and not all of them made sense. Like, if Sans was to make a foreign food, ramen would’ve made more sense due to Alphys being weeb trash, haha.

Okay, so the rough timeline iiiis... Falling: - Cyan - Green - Orange - Blue - Purple - Yellow Dying: - Cyan - Orange - Blue - Purple - Yellow - Green

You know, it’s funny because this ask is super old, but that’s basically sorta what happened. :O It became a beach-themed resort.

Never forget MTT fangirl Temmie’s pool escapades.

I think Forgespring for me because I had to make the tileset myself (it took a few months, I think?), but Aquarius was definitely in the works for a while. But once I had the tileset from Fours, the rooms were very easy to design!

That woulda been pretty rad! Maybe I can find another spot for it one day, haha.

I think for Dohj, I’d have to check with Fours, but I’m certainly not opposed at some point? Right now, the following chars can take questions: - Frisk - Papyrus - Sans - Undyne - Alphys - Napstablook - Mettaton - Asgore - Chara - Flowey

Cyan appears in Part 45! :O No answer about orange for now, tho.

I do have vague ideas for Tem village. I just haven’t had time to go back and do it.

Stay tuned and you may find out! :O

Hmmmm... I had a lot of fun with MTT SPIRAL and the Determinator, tbh. They were both very time consuming, but I love how they came out! Also, buff Jerry.

Turnabout Storm. :)

youtube

It’s a really awesome fan crossover that works way better than it should. :P

None taken! We know that with headcanons, everyone is gonna have their own interpretations. These are just the voices we liked for Fireglobe Production, but everyone has their right to their favored interpretations!

Yeah, Knight Knight is one of the coolest CORE mercs in the original game. It was fun to repurpose them for Inverted Fate as royal guards. :o It made room for unique encounters in the CORE in the form of them robots- as Undyne would rather use machines than other monsters to do her work.

Personally, I see it as an Asriel motif, but I also acknowledge that at one point it WAS gonna be an Asgore motif. Toby has a habit of just using whatever music works for a scene (see sans. at the snail farm.)

I do have a few ideas, though I won’t say for what yet. :o

He’s likely made blueprints for that train. :P

It probably would just have different flavor text/progression!

So basically, I treat the starting motif for BAaTH/Power of NEO is just a “true hero” motif.

MTT is definitely major in IF! As for whether or not he’ll have a hangout, time will tell. There’s definitely more to resolve with him, though.

I’m gonna remake at least a few of the older tracks, including Regret. My goal is just to bring the OST to a similar standard of quality.

So, animated parts coming up: Part 47, Part 49, Part 50. There may be some other parts, but we’re gonna wanna scale things back for a little bit for the sake of all our sanities.

I go with both. ;)

Honestly, probably fairly similar to the bully fight in the Ruins- which is why I ultimately decided not to do one. Both fill similar archetypes, though I think if I did do a battle, I woulda still had Flowey interrupt at the end and scare them off.

It’s a very emotional scene. Far more tragic than her geno death, IMO.

Well, the main goal in that regard is the remasters (Part 9 is in progress). Otherwise, I do think these hiatuses are good for working ahead. I’ve still gotta do more work, though, because my buffer this time around is a lot smaller from the trial-hiatus buffer. Alas!

Honestly, the website is the best thing to happen to IF. It’s allowed us to do so much with the comic’s presentation that would be impossible with imgur. NORIX IS THE BEST...

#inverted fate #ask dump #asks #undertale au #behind the scenes #undyne #frisk #papyrus #asgore #sans #alphys #lore #toriel #fallen humans

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anuschkalova · 6 years ago

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Simply and Sanely PART 6 (Jeremiah x Reader)

A/N: Things are heating up. Enjoy! Summary: Y/N gets in trouble and Jeremiah helps her. But little does she know that he drags her into more trouble, making Y/N a part of his plans. Forcing her to enter the dangerous life of Gotham’s underwolrd. Pairing: Jeremiah Valeska x Reader Word count: 3,457 Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 7 Part 8 🖤Masterlist🖤

Previously: A devious smile formed his lips as he looked down at the photograph of you leaving the strip club. „Gottcha.“ ___ The previous tenant of your apartment had chosen this dazzling shade of green for the hallway’s walls. It reminded you of a pop-eyed frog that had exploded and its remains got soaked in by the dry walls. The green color was sickening, but you endured it. The luxury of new white paint seemed unaffordable by checking your account balance. You needed to save the money. You opened the door of your apartment and sighed in relief at the sight of your hallway. God, you’ve never felt such gratefulness being able to see this ugly shade of green again. Suddenly, you found yourself on the floor, weeping bitterly. All the horrible events and emotions overwhelmed you; witnessing death and being kidnapped felt like nightmares in the moment, but now - back in your own little world - they felt real. Too real. And there was no escape from it… You flinched as footsteps approached you. Camila, your neighbor, came to an halt at sight of your miserable state. She threw her hands in the air while scolding you in Spanish. „Dios mío! De dónde…?“ „Not now, Camila. Please, por favor. I’m fine.“ You passed her with shaky knees and the middle-aged woman followed you to the bathroom. Her dark eyes glistened with anger and concern. „Y/N, nina, explain! I was worried, you didn’t come home and police showed up…-“ A gleam of panic struck your exhausted body. You stared at Camila with widened eyes. „The police?“ „Sí. Two officers.“ You took a deep breath and splashed some cold water on your face. Camila started to talk again, asking you too many questions, so you pressed the mute button and disregarded her. You focused on your self-reflection on the mirror and lent it your voice.

Two police officers were here. Why? Silly me, you knew it. The shooting at the ally… I’m a precious witness, they probably watched the records of the security cameras outside the club. Yeah, of course. That’s why. But what now? You bit on your lower lip as you avoided your own eye-contact. They will come back to question me, like Camila does now. But they will be stricter and won’t accept my silence. It will be tough. So what should I do? Jeremiah’s nerve-wracking smile popped up in your mind when he gave you the answer back in the car. He said I should tell the truth. He can’t be serious. Is he testing me? I need to tell the police about Martinez, but maybe that’s part of his plan? This maniac will kill me after I achieved my purpose, no doubt.I won’t be his puppet. I will find a way breaking free from his little game and saving Martinez. „Y/N!“ Camila placed her hand on your swollen cheek and you hissed. The pain brought you immediately back to reality. „Did someone hit you? A man?“, she asked alarmed. Camila knew about your night-time job and how moody the drunken customers could get after some beer and whisky. Her daughter had known as well - she used to work as a stripper and prostitute in a seedy club down the street. She lived in her mother’s apartment above you and the arguments were very loud and heated. Until one night in March last year - it became all quiet. Just here and there you would hear the muffled sobs of a mother who had lost its only child. She was 22 years-old when a man had chocked her to death. Since then, Camila took care of you. „No. Just a jealous woman.“ You tried to soothe her worries with a fake smile, the best you could pull, but your weak attempt didn’t fool her. Before she could inspect your appearance any further, you hid in the room next door. Careful to shut the door quietly, you stepped closer to the bed and noticed the fresh tulips on the night table. Camila was truly an angel, you thought and reached out to gently touch your sister’s face. Her skin was almost as white as the bed sheets and it made you gulp. „Hey, I’m back“, you whispered, brushing some strains of hair out of her face. The beeping machines that kept your sister alive were the only audible response you got. They were running for two years now - since the day your beloved sister went into a coma. She looked so peaceful in her never-ending sleep, so calm and normal. During the daytime you’d imagine how she spent the night with her friends, hitting the club and drinking too many drinks, then sneaking into her room and sleeping tightly till afternoon, totally exhausted. During nighttime you’d imagine how she danced all day, or rode the bike to Gotham’s only park and took a nice long walk, petted some cute dogs, ate ice-cream and then came home before you’d arrive. She’d be so tired and wouldn’t wake up when you pressed a good-night kiss on her cheek.Those little fantasies comforted you and kept you going, regardless how sad it was. You would proof all the doctors wrong who gave up on you sister. You would work night after night in that hell of a strip club to earn the money for those life-sustaining machines. You sat down on the chair next to the bed and heard something crackling in the pocket of your dress. You frowned and slid your hand inside to pull out some kinked dollar bills. „What the…“, you mumbled, but then remembered: It was the money you had stolen from the four men in the alley, the bastard who tried to rape you. 250 dollar. You harshly wiped the fresh tears away and walked back to the door. Now was not the time to cry. „Camila!“, you called out and the woman stormed towards you. You gave her 50 dollars. „Here, please buy her medicine.“ Camila took it and nodded. You squeezed her hand and thanked god for this caring woman before you rushed into your room. You took the black dress off and changed into more comfortable and neutral-colored clothes. It was time to visit an old friend. ___ Thieves were not uncommon in Gotham and in fact a part of everyday life. Desperate scream like ‚Stop thief!‘ and ‚Help, I got robbed!‘ turned into basic background noises along with the honking cars and swishing helicopters. You stood by a kiosk when you witnessed one of those crimes. With your face deep in the hood of your jacket, you were looking into the distance at a well-dressed business man. He ordered a coffee and didn’t notice the stranger’s hand inside his back pocket. With his purse in her hands, Selina Kyle passed the man casually and entered an alley. You followed her and spotted her figure sitting on some fire stairs three meters above the ground. She smirked victoriously as she counted the money. „A good catch?“, you made yourself noticeable and Selina raised her head, only to title if after a second. „Did you get lost?“, she asked back and you shook your head slightly. „I was looking for you.“ „I’m honored“, Selina said sarcastically and dropped the empty purse in front of your feet. You bit your lower lip while looking around for possible listeners. Selina noticed your uneasiness and climbed down effortlessly. Her moves always reminded you of a cat. And as one, she stared at you with her green observing eyes. „What’s wrong?“ You shoved a hand towards her, nodding reassuringly and watched her puzzled face turning into one with surprise after she took the money from you. „200 dollar“, you simply said. „For what?“ „I need a gun“, you said and Selina raised her eyebrows. „For self-defense. You know where I work at and after all, this is Gotham“, you explained yourself, but Selina didn’t buy that. „Why not just go and buy one? There are plenty stores at every corner. After all, this is Gotham.“ There it was, the sassiness of a survivor. „Too many cameras. Nobody needs to know.“ Selina narrowed her eyes. She was skeptical, for good reason. „Nobody or… a specific person?“ You sighed. Selina wasn’t stupid nor naive, she knew that something was off, you saw it in her eyes, but she was one of your friends and you couldn’t involve her any further into your problems. So you shrugged the hood off of your head and offered her a small smile. „Please, Selina. I know I can rely on you and I need your help. You are one of the few people I trust the most“, you confessed and Selina scoffed as she considered your request. In the end, she gave in and buried the dollar bills deep in the pocket of her leather jacket. „Fine“, she mumbled. It took a load off your mind. „Thank you.“ ___ Oswald’s head snapped up when he heard someone walk into his office. „Victor“, he breathed and rushed a few steps towards the hitman. The bold man folded his hands in front of him as he stood there, smirking at the Penguin. „Cut that stupid grin and tell me what you got!“, Oswald demanded, gripping his walking stick firmly. But Victor just passed him to pull out a chair, indicating Oswald to take a seat. The black-haired man fought against the urge to activate the hidden knife in his walking stick, but he obliged and sat down. „Well, Victor?“, he raised his chin and eyed him expectantly. Victor laid three photographs of Y/N on the table for Oswald to see. One where she left the strip club with the four men close behind. One by Jeremiah’s car in front of her apartment. And one showing Y/N and Selina together this afternoon. Oswald took one photograph in his hand to take a closer look at the woman’s face. „Who is she?“ „Your free ticket to that maniac“, Victor answered at which Oswald got his full attention, so he continued: „This woman was involved in the shooting at the alley. He took her with him, dropped her by her apartment like a gentleman and right after that she met up with that kitten, gave her a lot of money.“ The Penguin brought his other hand to his mouth as he was deep in thought. His fingers tapped quickly against his lips. „You want me to bring that lady to you?“, Victor asked into the silence, but his boss raised his hand to hush him. „No. We don’t know her connection to Mr. Valeska. Bring me Selina instead.“ ___ The Wonderland’s strip club was always very crowded by the end of the week. It was Thursday night and you were inside the dressing room, applying make up for your soon to start show. The foundation had covered the redness of your cheek, but not the swelling. However, you didn’t care as the customers won’t look at your face during your performance. A hard knock at the door made you flinch. „Five minutes! Hurry up!“, someone called and you put the make up away, inspecting your attire in the mirror. You wore a breath of nothing, a black leather lingerie that barley covered the most important parts. The thong was connected to the bra via three straps and the material squeaked softly as you walked. It was sexy; a men’s dreams, but for you it was just work clothes. With slow and long steps, you moved on the stage. All eyes were on your body as you started you performance, swaying your hips to the music and teasingly circling the pole. Whistles and dirty compliments came from all directions and you forced a smirk on your red lips. You moved to the edge of the stage, kneeling down and playfully winking at the first row. The whistles got louder. You stood up and danced seductively, touching your curves the way all those shameless men would wish to. Your eyes wandered lazily around the dark club and you blinked, looking back where you’d spotted something off. There, at a table near the bar, Jeremiah sat quietly and dead still, unlike his conspecifics. His piercing green eyes followed your every movement and it made you shiver. Taken aback, you had stopped your performance and stared back at the fine dressed criminal. „Hey, keeping going, sugar!“, some men yelled and you continued. You turned your back to the audience and held the pole, wiggling your arse. The howling was deafening. Why is he here? You glimpsed over your shoulder and searched for his table, but he was gone. Then, another stripper appeared on stage who pressed her lips to you ear. „You have to go backstage. There’s a man waiting for you“, she whispered and you nodded, leaving the stage. You heart was bounding like a jackhammer as you walked along the back area, looking for this maniac’s devious smile. „Y/N L/N?“, a man that you were about to pass addressed you. „Yes?“, you responded unsure and stopped. He had a solid body language and a stern expression, but his eyes shimmered with relief at your confirmation. He didn’t look like your regular customers. He was dressed in a dark blue suit with a white shirt and grey tie, too formal for a little fun. „James Gordon, GCPD“, he introduced himself and offered you his hand. That’s when you noticed the police badge and gun on his belt. You licked your lips that became dry all of a sudden. „GCPD…?“, you repeated and took his hand, his grip was strong, but reserved. He nodded. „I’m sorry to bother you at… work.“ His eyes darted around in a appraising way and you mentally shared his dislike for this shithole. „But I need to ask you a few questions about an incident you have been involved in.“ There it was. Your fear came true. Acting settled and collected, you smiled politely and nodded. „Of course.“ „You may want to change in your regular clothes. The interview will take place at the GCPD’s Headquarters.“ ___ The interrogation room was cold and sparingly furnished with one metal table and two chairs. A small rectangular window was the only source of light along two lamps on the walls. The huge mirror next to you made you feel observed. You had no idea how many police officers had gathered behind it.

Gordon sat opposite to you. He waited patiently until you felt comfortable enough to talk. You held a warm cup of black coffee in your hands and formed the sentences in your head. „Are you ready?“, the GCPD captain asked with his voice low, careful not to yank you out of your thoughts. You met his eyes and took a sip of your coffee. „Yes.“ „Alright“, he said and coughed. „Tell me, what happened in the night of the shooting?“ And so you did. You told Gordon about the group of men that had molested you during your performance, how they chased you outside and that Jeremiah Valeska had shot them in order to help you. You mentioned the other men he killed, that Jeremiah used you to get away from the crime scene. „And then?“, Gordon who had listened very carefully asked. You’d noticed how his jaw tensed at the criminal’s name. You hesitated shortly before you continued: „And then he guided me to a dark alley where a car picked him up. That’s it.“ „And this was his farewell gift?“, he pointed at your injured cheek and you shook your head. „Just a misunderstanding“, you lied. Gordon opened the file that laid the whole time next to him to read something. „All three men have been robbed. I doubt that Mr. Valeska was after their money.“ Shit. Okay, this time you chose the truth. „I stole it“, you confessed. „My sister is very ill and I needed the money. You see, I don’t let myself be humiliated night after night because I like it.“ Gordon lowered his gaze and you believed to see some sympathy on his features. Just as you considered yourself on the safe side, he put a spoke in your wheel. „Where were you yesterday?“ You fumbled with the tip of your hair to avoid Gordon’s eyes. „At home. I’m sorry I didn’t answer the door. I was too scared“, you mumbled and the man sighed. He leaned a little over the table. „Y/N, if you have any information about Jeremiah Valeska’s whereabouts then you need to tell me. Whatever it is you’re afraid of, I can help you.“ A shaky breath escaped your lips that you covered up with coughing. You wanted to tell him the truth, you really did, but you couldn’t. „I have no idea where he is and that’s the truth.“ You stuck with your story and Gordon gave in. He nodded towards the mirror and stood up, making the chair screeching. He accompanied you to the door which he opened for you. You thanked him with a smile and took a step outside when Gordon grabbed your wrist. „Stay away from Jeremiah. He is dangerous and unpredictable“, he whispered and you stiffened. You hoped that he didn’t notice the twitch in your face, so you looked him straight in the eyes and lied right in the face of law. „I will.“ Gordon had no idea that you would break your promise within the next two minutes. In your defense, it wasn’t your intention. As soon as you stepped out of the GCPD building, a familiar car stood by the side of the road. You didn’t waste any time and got on, shutting the door way too hard. Jeremiah kept silent and seemed to ignore your presence. The driver pulled on the busy road. „You didn’t tell them about the boy. Why?“, Jeremiah asked monotonically while he adjusted his gloves. You turned towards him. „You wanted me to tell the truth. You wanted the police to know about the boy… That’s part of your plan“, you hissed and he leaned his head back, studying your face. „I’m not your puppet. I won’t fulfill your insane plans.“ God, you would pat yourself on the back if you wouldn’t shake like a little baby. „I must admit, Y/N, that I feel hurt“, Jeremiah spoke slowly and bent over to you. „I thought my charm would be enough to persuade you.“ You didn’t flinch, even though his face was a few inches away. His breath ghosted over your skin and the craziness in his eyes seemed within reach. „What charm?“, you stroke back and raised an eyebrow. It was a risky move, but his arrogance literally asked for that.

Your cockiness triggered something as Jeremiah’s lips curled into a wide smile, revealing his teeth. You hoped that he didn’t see the goosebumps on your arms as he stared at your trembling lips. Suddenly, his hands crashed on your body, holding your waist tight and in place when you tried to jump up. His grin was gone, but his eyes were still fixed on your face. Panic began to build. „I’m really tempted to taste that little nasty tongue of yours“, Jeremiah growled lowly and his gloved nails dug into your flesh. You winced at the pain and clutched his west firmly, so hard that your knuckles turned white.Then, he started to approach you, slowly but surely to savor your horrified look. But when his hand glided on your tight, you lost it - and you spit on his face. Jeremiah pulled his head back and blinked a few times as some of your saliva had hit his eye. He wiped it away and let out a muffled chuckle while looking at your spit on his fingers. You were sure he would hit you, beat you into the hospital, but instead Jeremiah moved his hand to his mouth to lick off your saliva. You couldn’t believe it and stared at him closing his eyes in consumption. „Thanks for the foretaste“, he said and you shook your head. „You’re crazy, you’re…-“ A loud explosion interrupted you and you automatically ducked down. „What was that?!“, you yelled and looked out of the window hastily. You saw a huge cloud of black smoke hovering above Gotham. People were screaming and running away from the disaster. „That is my foretaste“, Jeremiah said calmly and observed the chaos outside the car casually. „I blew up a library near Grant Park. I guess that 30 people died in that explosion. 30 people that would be alive if you hadn’t disobeyed me, my dear.“ To be continued… Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 7 Part 8 🖤Masterlist🖤

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ladyseaheart1668 · 6 years ago

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Endless Summer Book 4 : Daughter of Vaanu (Chapter 30)

Description: Caleb plots his next move while Nicholas Montoya is reunited with his sister.

Tagging: @xo-endlessmayhem-xo ; @princesstopgun : @mysteli @endlesshero1122 ; @whatmcsaid

Note: In this chapter, I want to give special thanks to @endlesshero1122 , who not only gave me a great idea, but invented five characters and blessed me with full permission to use them. One of them, though not yet named, appears in this chapter, and he and the other four will continue to appear in the future.

Chapter 30: Shadowed Voices

Estela

I'm sure my vise-like grip is hurting Quinn's hand, but to her credit and my great relief, she doesn't ask me to loosen it. I don't know if I could just at this moment. The silence in the living room of my mother's apartment is deafening as she and her older brother stare at each other through a computer screen. I tremble violently as I watch my mother's eyes start to shimmer, until finally, she takes a shuddering breath and the tears spill over.

“...Nicholas...? Say something...”

“Livita...” My Tio's voice cracks with emotion. “...Livita, where have you been...?”

“Well...for the last five years, I have been in a fugue state in a mental hospital in Florida. Before that is...harder to explain. But I want you to know, Nicholas, because I don't want you to believe even for a moment that I could have left you or Estela without me by choice.”

“I could never...”

“...What I want to tell you is sensitive information, Nicholas. As sensitive as any information you have ever dealt in. ...It was enough to get me killed once, and I would rather tell you in person. Estela and I can be in San Trobida in about six hours.”

“Yes...Dios mio...of course...but...Livita...” Tio gulps audibly. “Livita, are you real? I...surely must be dreaming...”

“In six hours, I will be in San Trobida with my daughter, and you will see that I am real. ...I love you, Nicholas.”

A sob escapes him. “Livita...I love you...I love you, my sister...please come home...”

Caleb

One thing I can say for Gigi's operation is that it pays well. It's part of how she keeps her squatters loyal. She runs her gang like the mafia, or a Golden Age pirate crew, where all the treasure is divided equally, after dues are collected for the maintaining of the abandoned houses where she's set up. I have enough in my pocket to hole up in a cheap motel for a couple days and eat cheap, greasy food for a few meals. I also get a couple decent showers out of the deal while I wrestle with Tahira's offer.

I could just walk away. She says she doesn't think I'm going to go crazy or get sick from exposure to the Prism Crystal, which is really all that I was worried about. ...But I just keep hearing her voice in my head saying it's bigger than Silas Prescott. It's bigger than Northbridge. It's bigger than all of us.

Fuck me, I shouldn't care. I'm not a hero. I don't care about the rest of the world. Just myself and my little corner of it. …But I can't deny that the whole world includes my own little corner of it, much as I would like to pretend otherwise. Besides, I'm not lacking in curiosity.

Still...having to earn Talos' trust does give the whole deal the bitter taste of impossibility. Maybe I should save myself the frustration and just walk away. The only thing that really stops me is knowing that if I do, I won't have another chance. Talos and Minuet are formidable enough on their own, but with Dragonness back on their side...well, I'm an anarchist, but I'm not suicidal. Plus, Dragonness is just...so...fuck me, she's intriguing. As Dragonness, as Tahira...there's something compelling about her. I don't know, but it makes me believe that she isn't a complete tool of the system. That maybe there's hope for her or something. There's hope with her. …Fuck me, I haven't believed in another human being in twenty years. So what the fuck is happening to me?

I buy a burrito, a can of generic beer, and a pack of Camels in a convenience store in Bayside. The cashier is a young, dark-haired guy who looks about sixteen, and who needs his grizzled biker manager to ring up the beer and smokes. I wander outside and lean against the wall of the building while I eat the burrito and guzzle the beer. I toss the empties in the trash and pull a cigarette from the pack. I snap my fingers to summon a small flame and light it. I take a drag and let the carcinogenic smoke fill my lungs.

The bell on the door dings as the teenage cashier slips outside, huddled up in a ratty windbreaker that might have been lime green once. He glances over at me.

“Hey, mister? Can you spare five bucks?”

I exhale a cloud of smoke, slipping him a sidelong glance. “You're the one with a job, kid.”

He grins ruefully. “I mostly don't spend my paycheck on myself. I support four kids and a dog on minimum wage. I just need a few bucks so I can get lunch. Otherwise, I don't eat until dinner.”

I'd say he's laying it on thick, but the hurried, tired way he explains it makes me think he gives this spiel a lot, and is in fact growing pretty tired of it. Still...

“Not a very convincing story, kid. Not unless you got some kind of super sperm and you knocked up a chick with quadruplets, only to have her abandon you with the kids and the dog.”

He sighs, rolling his eyes. “They're not my kids, they're my brother and three cousins. Can you spare a few bucks or not?”

I frown, taking a good look at the kid for the first time. Some kinda South Asian ancestry in him, I think. He's kinda scrawny and scruffy, like a stray animal. That windbreaker might as well be tissue paper in the biting early November chill. He says he isn't spending his paycheck on himself, and it kinda looks like no one else is, either.

“You support them? How old are you, anyway?”

His gaze suddenly gets hard. “Older than I look.”

“Yeah, but four kids...? No parents...? I mean, that's just asking for a visit from child services.” As I look of panic crosses his face, I pull a five dollar bill out of my pocket and hold it out to him. “Relax. I'm not looking to add you to the system. Though...If I were you, I'd be more careful who I tell about looking after four kids.”

A blush creeps to the surface of his tawny cheeks as he snatches the money from my hand, muttering his thanks. I watch him rush back into the store, my eyes lingering for a moment on the empty space where he was. Then, I shake my head to dislodge the vague concern that's creeping in on the edges of my thoughts. A bunch of kids trying to escape the foster system isn't a priority right now. Figuring out how to get Talos to trust me is the priority. Learning about what I am is the priority. I take a last drag on my cigarette and toss it to the ground to grind the butt under my heel.

...Talos isn't gonna be convinced if I just round up criminals and turn them over to the DA. No one is going to be convinced that way. ...But if I can figure out on my own what's so much fucking bigger than all of us, maybe I can figure out a way to help the superhero squad avert the apocolypse. And on that score, I think I know where to start.

...Everything begins with La Huerta.

Nicholas Montoya

It is nearly midnight by the time I reach the airport, where a charter flight carrying my niece and my little sister is supposed to be landing. I am terrified. I am terrified that I was dreaming Estela's call, my little sister's face beside her daughter. Even when I see her coming down the steps out of the plane, I and still sure that I am going to wake up any moment and she'll be gone again. She looks...barely altered from the last time I saw her. I have aged eleven years, and she has barely aged a day. I approach her cautiously, as if a sudden movement might cause her to vanish like a frightened deer. I don't speak as I place my hands on her shoulders, staring at her face, trying to memorize every detail. Finally, she smiles.

“...I'm real, Nicholas.” She wraps her arms around my neck, and I have the presence of mind to embrace her back. That's the moment when I realize that Olivia and Estela have not come alone. Over Olivia's shoulder, I can see that there is a red-haired young woman standing close to Estela. Apparently noticing where my gaze has landed, Estela clears her throat.

“Tio, this is my friend, Quinn. She was on La Huerta with me.”

So much said in so few words. This young woman was on La Huerta, where I thought my sister had died. Where for six months, I was sure my niece had died, too. Quinn was there. She was one of Rourke's prisoners. She knows same secrets Estela knows. I pull back, looking at my sister.

“...Let's go home. I want to know everything that you are willing to tell me.”

“And we would like for you to know everything.”

* * *

As the three women lay out the facts for me over coffee at our kitchen table, I realize very quickly that “everything” is...quite a lot. Quite a lot that I have never imagined possible. Time travel. Other dimensions. Alien beings from another world, and a conspiracy to use those aliens to achieve untold power.

“...Alodia said that ultimately, Rourke wanted to use her power to build himself an empire,” Estela concludes grimly. “It seems he has not entirely lost sight of that ambition.”

I am quiet for a moment, considering all I have heard.

“...I am honored that you trust me with this information.”

“Of course we trust you, Tio. Besides, you have experience with tyrants and dictators. We may end up needing your help.”

“Right now, though, Rourke is contained,” I point out.

“I know. ...But no prison is escape-proof. And Rourke is a slippery demon.”

“I believe your caution is wise,” I agree. “But right now, perhaps what we should think about is your mother...” I look up at my sister, “...and what she wants.”

“Right now,” Olivia replies, “What I want is to be with my family.”

Raj

With the camera crew following behind me, I stroll through Campagna Amica in Rome, carefully choosing ingredients for an authentic Italian pasta carbonara. I talk as I go, commenting on each ingredient, making sure I explain every choice. Lila follows well behind the camera, watching me curiously, silent until I've paid and headed back to the car with my supplies. When the cameras are off and we've climbed into the backseat, she looks over at me with fascination.

“...So...is this what you do for a living now?”

I grin. “Pretty much. Travel the world, cook delicious food, meet fans...it's a pretty sweet life.”

“...And Diego is a professor, Sean is a professional football player, Michelle is a doctor, Quinn is healthy and running a charity...”

“Yeah. We're all doing really well.” I hesitate a moment, before speaking again, but I decide to add, “Even Jake, now that he has Alodia back. He was...kind of touch-and-go for awhile after Lundgren's trial.”

“Raj...did he really put her in a stasis tube? Is that really where you found her? ...Or was it true what Rourke said about her? That she's one of the crystal people? That she was part of the Island's Heart?”

Again, I hesitate, but Lila's in this as much as any of us. And even if she turns on us, it's not like Rourke doesn't already know what Alodia's origins are.

“It's the latter. The stasis tube was the story we told to explain her return. The long and short of it is that she gave up her own existence to restore the world without turning it over to Rourke. But thanks to the Prism Crystal, she was able to come back, and a past was written for her. ...We lost five years with her, but now we've got her back for the rest of her life. And she's got a home and a family.”

Lila is quiet for a very long time. Finally, she says, “...Once I thought Rourke could give me back my home and my family.”

I put a hand on her shoulder. “...You lost them when you were little, right? A car accident?”

She frowns slightly. “...How did you...?”

“Alodia put together a few...puzzle pieces, so to speak. Some notes of Rourke's or something, plus a little of her crystal alien psychicness. She only told us recently, though. There was a lot she kept hidden on the island.”

“...Oh.” She goes quiet again for another long moment. “...I thought he could bring them back. And...maybe he could have. ...Clearly, she couldn't. ...Even if she could bring me back, she couldn't bring my family...”

“No...I think...she didn't have a lot of control over who she brought back, or she wouldn't have brought back Lundgren.”

“But she came back. She came back, and now she has a past and a home and a family. ...Just what Mr. Rourke was promising her. ...Except that he can't give me my home and my family anymore.”

I feel something cold seeping into my veins at the way she's talking. I carefully take hold of her hand, folding it between my palms. She glances at me with surprise, and I capture her gaze, holding it firmly.

“Lila, don't start thinking that way. ...The past and the family she has now...they aren't some sunny ideal. She's an orphan, too. She was adopted by an aunt and uncle who didn't really want her, and mostly raised by a nanny. Diego was the only person who unconditionally loved her all her life. Diego, and then the rest of us. ...She needs us, Lila, as much as we need her.”

Lila bites her lip, a guilty blush creeping into her cheeks. “...I...don't mean to sound...petty. She deserves what she has. ...She certainly deserves her family more than I deserve mine.”

I squeeze her hand. “...Family isn't really something you deserve. Like I said, the family she was given was hardly ideal. But the eleven of us are her family, too. ...And we can all be your family if you let us, Lila. The whole reason you're in Rome with me right now is so that we can protect you from someone who only wants to use you.”

“...I...you're right.” Her breath shakes as she exhales. “...Thank you, Raj. I needed to hear that.”

“Hey, no problem. Come on, we're almost at the studio. You can help me make the carbonara.”

Alodia

Jake has been clingy with me since the revelation that there is an Arachnid mook alive somewhere on the east coast. I can't really blame him. Of course, we're all concerned by the news, but it's different for him. I know what nightmares this has to be bringing up for him, what memories of being hunted in Kharzistan are surely lurking at the edges of his mind. And those are just the nightmares I didn't live through with him. I expect there are memories from La Huerta crowding in there as well, of Lundgren intercepting us in the mountains, being pursued by Fiddler and Tetra, Mike's dull, lifeless gaze under the influence of mind control...the fireball that consumed him and Lundgren in one terrible moment...the moment my hand slipped on the landing skid of the doomed chopper and sent me hurtling into the sea below...

… He's afraid for himself. Of course he is. ...But he is more afraid for me. For Mike. For our baby. For Diego, and Varyyn, and any Catalyst who gets caught in the crossfire. All in all, it adds up to the same thing. My husband is frightened, and there is little I can do to reassure him. For now, I can only let him cling to me whenever possible, check in with him throughout the day, and let him drive me to the studio and pick me up on Saturdays.

As my pregnancy advances, I have lightened my personal classload, but I can still teach if I keep the jumping to a minimum. I'm about nineteen weeks gone. Now that my bulge is starting to really look like a baby bump and not just some extra weight, I have opted today to start telling my students that I am expecting. I am pleased to find that the news perks up my twelve- and thirteen-year-old advanced ballet students, who at ten-thirty on a Saturday morning are typically still fighting off sleep and usually don't really wake up until halfway through the barre exercises. Once the initial excitement fades, though, they're all business.

One student does approach me as I sit on a bench just outside the studio with a bag of trail mix after class. She hesitates a moment, but I smile and pat the bench next to me.

Her name is Divya Gupta, and she's quickly become one of my favorite students. Extremely talented, but too friendly to make enemies for it, bright and curious. Not to mention that her parents are just two of the kindest people I have ever met. She started at the studio as a four-year-old shortly after I left for Hartfeld, and apparently her parents are well-known for helping out with costumes and shows when the studio needs a few extra hands.

Divya sits down next to me, placing her bag on the ground beside the bench. Over her black leotard and pink tights, she's pulled a pair of denim shorts and a sunset-colored sweatjacket with the studio logo on the back. The jacket hangs open and the convertible feet of her tights have been rolled up to her ankles to accommodate a pair of flip-flops.

“Aren't your toes cold?” I ask her. “I know we're in California, but it's still November.”

“Yeah, but we're in California,” she retorts, grinning. I chuckle.

“Fair enough. Maybe I'm just getting cold easier because of the baby.”

Divya leans over to eye my belly. “You don't look very big yet.”

“Not yet, but I will definitely get bigger.”

“...Are you married, Miss Alodia?”

“Yes, I am. Well, sort of. My husband and I got married in a ceremony overseas, but it wasn't really official. But we still think of ourselves as married.”

“Is he the one who dropped you off this morning? I saw you get out of the car when you got here because I got here at the same time. There was a man driving.”

I nod. “Yeah, that was Jake. He doesn't work today, so he decided to be nice and drive me.”

“That's a cool name. ...He looked cute, too, but I couldn't really see him very well.”

I grin. “He is cute. Very cute.”

“What does he do for a job?”

“He works for my uncle now, but he used to be a pilot in the navy.”

The sigh she gives is unmistakably dreamy and I can't help grinning a little. “That's soooo cool. How did you meet?”

For a moment, I'm a little thrown by the question. People knowing my name and Jake's is something I've just learned to get used to in the months since I've been back. The disappearance of eleven college students was international news, as was their return six months later with one of them missing. As was, for that matter, the trial of the two former navy pilots who were eventually cleared of three-year-old treason charges. But I suppose the media hasn't exactly been rigorous about keeping up with us. And at her age, I guess it isn't unlikely that Divya wouldn't have much interest in following the news to begin with.

“He was the pilot when my friends and I took a trip to the Caribbean five years ago. He sort of got stuck there with us.”

“In the Caribbean? That's soooo romantic...” She looks up at the clear blue sky. “...I can't wait until I'm in high school next year. Right now I'm in eighth grade, and all the boys at my school are my age, or they're younger. I like boys who are older than me, because they're more mature. When I was in sixth grade, all the eighth grade boys seemed so grown up. But now that I'm in eighth grade...”

“So are all the immature boys who were sixth graders with you?”

“Exactly,” she sighs.

“Well...eventually the boys your age will catch up to you in maturity.”

“Is Jake your age?”

“Well...no,” I admit. “He's five years older than me. But some of my best friends are guys my age, and they're pretty mature. Well...most of them. In their own way. ...Come to think of it, maybe guys just don't mature.”

Divya laughs, and so do I, but the truth is that I wouldn't change any of my friends for anything. I hope Diego never stops making pop culture references. I hope Jake and Mike never stop nicknaming. I hope Craig and Raj always find ways to startle me with their crazy ideas. I hope Aleister is always just a little bit pompous and Sean is always just a little overprotective. As long as they don't stop learning, or slip back into harmful patterns, I hope they never lose those little quirks that I love about them.

Divya sits up abruptly. “Oh! I see my dad coming. I'll see you next class, Miss Alodia!”

She grabs her bag and all but skips off to meet her dad as he pulls up at the curb, waving to me as she goes. I wave back, then gather my energy to return to the studio. I have one more class before I can take a long break for a proper meal, and then one more class in the afternoon.

My fifteen-year-old jazz/hip-hop students don't react to my news with much more than brief smiles. They are a dedicated group with very little time for much outside of dance. I confess that they often exhaust me with their dedication, but a good meal restores my energy, and by the time I get back, the four-year-old ballet students are starting to stream into the studio. At this studio, proper class attire is demanded of even the youngest students. The girls all wear tiny black leotards and pink tights with pink slippers of leather or canvas, and the boys come in fitted black shorts and white tops, with white or black shoes. Most of the girls also like to dress up their outfits with sheer ballet skirts and ribbons for their hair. When I get back to the studio, most of the parents have just about finished getting their little ones dressed and securing long hair off their faces. I stand at the dressing room door and clap my hands.

“Okay, is everyone all set? Come on out and let's sit in a circle in butterfly position. If you brought a doll for the dolly dance, let mommy or daddy hold onto it for now, okay?”

Fifteen little dancers rush less-than-gracefully out onto the dance floor, plopping down in a lopsided circle and obediently arranging their legs in a butterfly position, grasping their ankles. They leave a space for me at the head of the circle, and I accept it.

“Okay, everyone, before we start, I have an announcement to make: I am going to have a baby.” A chorus of excited gasps greets my news. “In the next few months, my tummy is going to get big and round, and I'm going to be eating a lot of extra snacks to help the baby grow before it's ready to be born. Also, after the baby is born, I will need to take some time off to rest, so Miss Vikki will be teaching everyone for awhile. You all know who Miss Vikki is, right?”

“Yeeeees,” everyone choruses.

“Good. Miss Vikki was my ballet teacher back when I was five years old, too, and I learned everything I know from her, so you'll all be in good hands.”

Martin Becskei puts up his hand, but doesn't wait for permission to speak before blurting out, “Miss Alodia, my mom told me where babies come from! If you're gonna have a baby, that means you made sex with a boy!”

Chloe Baudin gasps and swats Martin's shoulder. “Martin! That's a bad word!”

“No, it isn't! It's what happens when you're a grown up and you're in love with someone!”

I bite my cheek to keep from laughing. A few of the parents watching from the benches in the back aren't holding back. Martin's mother is actively beaming, apparently oblivious to the mortified looks from a couple of the more conservative parents in the room.

“Okay, Chloe, no hitting,” I say, my voice strained with the effort of holding back giggles. “Martin, your mom is very smart.”

“Miss Alodia?” Megan Radcliff calls. “Is it a girl baby or a boy baby?”

“I don't know yet, Megan. Right now the baby is too small to tell, but in a few weeks, I'll go to the doctor and have a picture taken of the baby inside me, and they should be able to tell me then.”

“When the baby is born, will you bring it to show us?”

“Of course, Ji-hu. Once the baby is strong enough, I promise I'll bring them in so they can meet everyone. But that's going to be a long time from now. For now, let's get started by warming up our bodies. Everyone shake out your hands and let's warm up our little ballerinas.”

I lead them in shaking out their wrists and fingers, then hold up my hand with my palm out and my fingers spread. In unison, we name the five ballerinas on each hand, just as I was taught when I was five years old: the thumb is “Daddy Ballerina”; the pointer finger is “Mommy Ballerina”; middle finger, “Skinny Ballerina”; ring finger, “Princess Ballerina”; and at the end of the line is “Baby Ballerina”.

I lead them through the most basic warm-ups and barre exercises, never throwing enough at them to overwhelm them. At their age, they don't need to worry about knowing the proper French names for each step. For now, it's enough to do “tippy-toe turns” and “ballet leaps.” All I'm worried about now is that their bodies get used to moving. Proper technique will come later. I do lead them through the five positions for the feet and arms, though. That's basic enough to be necessary even at their age. For the next hour, I get lost in the magic of dancing with these children, tapping on cheap tamborines while we skip in circles, and watching them hop over a line of old discarded ballet slippers that I keep in a box and lay out on the middle of the floor for them. Just before the Dolly Dance, I notice Jake slipping into the studio. Quite unexpectedly, I find myself struck hy a sudden wave of shyness; a self-consciousness that swells in me for a moment as I instruct the students to collect the dolls and stuffed animals they've brought as props. I manage to swallow it as I start the music.

I keep a doll from my own personal collection on hand so that I can participate; Emma, a handmade rag doll with yellow yarn hair, wearing a blue paisley dress and a lace pinafore. I retrieve it and try not to look over at Jake as I call out directions to my students. We all take on the role of parents as we rock and kiss and admire our “babies.” But then we place our babies under the barre and pretend we can't find them. We plié right and left, shifting our weight and holding our hands over our eyes as if searching the horizon for what is right in front of us. We pretend to cry in despair at our inability to see our babies staring patiently at us from beneath the barre. We hop from first position to second as we weep, “Oh me, oh my, oh me, oh my!” and scrub at our eyes theatrically. Then, lo and behold, the clouds lift as suddenly we realize where our babies are and we run to gather them in our arms. We kiss our babies. We hug our babies. We rock them, chanting “Rock-a-bye Baby,” and gently twirling after each line. As the music fades, I have to push past a lump in my throat as I call out to the dancers to give their babies back to their parents and come line up in the center of the room again. It takes a little wrangling, as usual.

“Everyone, remember our ballet manners?” I call, my voice still hoarse with suppressed emotion. “It's time to say thank you to everyone for dancing with us and watching today!”

The class reluctantly gathers at the center of the room and settles down as I select the révérence track, and a slow, gentle piano piece trickles out from the speakers. I lead my students through a final port de bras, and tippy-toe turn. As I end facing them, I lead them to bow or curtsey to me, then to turn and face their parents at the back and acknowledge them as well. Then, on impulse, I hurry to the door and take Jake by the hand, leading him into the room. His eyes widen slightly.

“...What are you doing?” he whispers.

I grin, turning to face my class. “Everyone, this is Miss Alodia's husband, Jake. He came to watch the Dolly Dance, so everyone bow or curtsey to him, too.” My students do as I say, giggling a little, and Jake applauds obligingly. I can't help chuckling. “And Mister Jake even knows his ballet manners! Everyone, let's clap to say thank you for a good class today!”

The students clap, and I finally dismiss them. Jake turns to me, lacing his fingers together at the small of my back, and leaning in to plant a kiss on my mouth.

“I hope it's not bad ballet manners to kiss the teacher,” he murmurs.

“Not after class,” I reply. “But we should still save it for after the kids and parents are gone. They might have questions or something.”

“Questions about where babies come from?”

I laugh. “No, apparently, they know that already. I was talking ballet-related questions.”

“Very well then, Princess. Go see to your subjects.”

It doesn't take too long for the students and their parents to clear out. Most of them are hungry and tired and ready to go to dinner. I'm starting to feel it myself, honestly. I'm starting to feel a lot of things. As I close down the studio, I suddenly realize that the knot of tears in my throat has dissolved, and I've started crying. Jake winds an arm around my shoulders, drawing me back into his arms.

“You okay? Is something wrong, or is this a baby thing?”

I laugh weakly, clutching him and resting my head on his chest. “A baby thing, a hungry thing...it's a thing. ...That stupid Dolly Dance got to me. Especially when I saw you watching.”

“Sorry. I didn't mean to upset you.”

“It's not your fault. It was just...with this kid inside me, I was dancing out a story about losing my baby...”

“...Except the baby was right in front of you,” Jake points out. “And you found her again two minutes later.”

“I know. I didn't say I was being rational.”

I hear him exhale a short breath of laughter, and he kisses the top of my head. “I get it. I know I've been noticing dads and kids a lot more recently. Just today, I saw two men with their little two-year-old daughter in the grocery store and just couldn't stop watching them. I must have given the wrong impression because one of them finally turned to me and said very loudly, 'Yeah, we're married, and this is our daughter!'”

I giggle through my tears. “And did you tell him you were an equal-opportunity fornicator before you were married?”

“Well, no. There was a child present. I just said I was sorry for staring, but my wife and I were expecting our first and I was feeling dad-jitters.” He kisses the top of my head again. “We ended up having a very pleasant conversation. Anyway, I think the almost-parent jitters have to be ten times as bad when you've got pregnancy hormones coursing through your veins.”

I sigh a little, nuzzling his shoulder. “...Pregnancy hormones might make mine stronger than yours, but yours are stronger than the average parent's, too. ...I think it's all going to be harder for the two of us. ...Just think of everything you and I have gone through to even get to the point where we're standing here together with me growing a baby inside me...”

He tightens his grip. “...I never stop thinking about it, Alodia. ...I never stop thinking about T'kal nearly shredding you the first time we met him. Or looking down while I dangled over a cliff and seeing you under me. Or holding you while you cried for your best friend, knowing I couldn't say or do anything that would make it better. I remember how it much it killed me to see you in pain. I remember being terrified that if I didn't go with him, Lundgren would try to hurt you to get to me. ...Waking up when you cried out in your sleep because you were watching us die and couldn't bring yourself to say anything about it. Watching you almost going over a waterfall...watching you fall out of a chopper...finding you on the beach and realizing you weren't breathing...watching you disappear...”

“...I never stop thinking about it, either. ...Just in that last loop alone...when we snuck into MASADA and I saw Lundgren with your throat in his fist...Sean had to hold me back. Remind me that I was still dressed like an Arachnid. ...Every time one of them showed up, you got hurt. Physically or emotionally. ...You were lying in my arms, coughing blood and crying over Mike...and I couldn't make it better anymore than you could when Diego was missing. All I could do was hold you and make promises I didn't know if I could keep...”

He's started to sway with me now. “...But I also remember dancing like this on New Year's Eve. I think about that all the time, too.”

“...I think about that, too. ...I think about sitting beside the river with you...watching the sunset...windsurfing together...”

“Winning masks in quuk'tanoi...ice skating in the mountains...”

“...Our wedding...our honeymoon...the first time you called me Princess...” I pull back to look up at him. “...I meant it when I said you gave me a lifetime's worth of love in a matter of weeks. ...But don't imagine for a moment that I didn't always want more.”

“I never do, Princess.” He bends to kiss me gently, just tasting my mouth, lingering there for a moment. I savor the sensation, but then an aching quiver deep in my belly makes me pull back with a gasp. He looks up, concerned. “What is it? Are you okay?”

“I'm starving!” I groan. “I feel like my stomach's going to start dissolving itself if I don't get food soon.”

He laughs. “Fair enough. Watcha in the mood for?”

“Potatoes,” I answer promptly. “Don't care how they're prepared, as long as they're loaded with carbs and starch. Potatoes and pickles, and a garden salad with spinach leaves, tomatoes, cucumbers, bacon bits, blue cheese...”

“Wait, what? You hate blue cheese.”

“I know! It smells like feet! But apparently, River likes that in food, because I want it all over my salad. ...That and peanut butter.”

“...Our kid has a weird appetite. Also, cucumbers and pickles are the same thing, just one is salty.”

“I need both the salty and the unsalty.”

He snorts, winding an arm around my waist and bending to nuzzle my neck. “Let's see what we can rustle up.”

Diego

There is something in the air in Laguna Beach tonight. I'm not sure what it is, but it's made my little nuclear family of five feel giddy and affectionate. Maybe it's all of Allie's baby hormones permeating the air. When she and Jake got home an hour ago, the trunk of her car was loaded with a bizzare mix of groceries that she explained dismissively as being the result of cravings. Of course, Jake, Varyyn, Mike, and I all forbid her from trying to carry any of the bags in herself and loaded our arms up with them. Stubborn wench that she is, Allie defiantly grabbed one of the lighter bags and marched into the house, sticking her tongue out at us as she went. Looking at the bags on the counter, somehow, the four men in the room got the same thought in our heads that we were going to make dinner. Allie looked at us skeptically when we suggested it, but as I pointed out, even if none of us are Raj, we can still follow a recipe. So, she obligingly excused herself from the kitchen with a bag of potato skins, a jar of peanut butter, and a carton of orange juice, and settled in the rec room to watch TV.

Now, we're all gathered around the table on the deck, looking out over the Pacific as the sun goes down over the water, nibbling at the remains of a satisfying meal of potato soup, garlic bread, salad, and fresh fruit. Allie, who drenched her salad in Italian dressing and peanut butter, uses a thin slice of garlic bread to soak up the remaining puddle, sprinkling pieces of blue cheese on top before stuffing the abomination into her mouth. She grins as she notices us watching her with a mix of horror and fascination.

“I know, I know,” she says around the mouthful. “When I'm back to normal, I'm going to realize just how disgusting these combinations are.”

“My mom says that whatever a woman craves most while pregnant usually ends up being the kid's favorite food,” Jake remarks. “Kinda makes sense to me. My mom hates seafood, but she says she had the worst cravings for it while she was pregnant with me, and I could basically live off anything that comes from the ocean.”

“Guess that means River's going to be a fiend for peanut butter,” I quip. “Seriously, how many jars of the stuff have you gone through this week?”

“At least one-and-a-half of the family size,” she admits. “I just hope they don't end up with peanut allergies. ...But anyway, how was everyone's day?”

Most of us were off today, but I spent the morning working on a lesson plan before Varyyn and I went for a little picnic on the beach. Mike applied to a few jobs in the area, and thinks he might have secured something for the holiday season at a warehouse. Meanwhile, Jake was making travel arrangements for himself and Allie for Thanksgiving.

“You also snuck in to watch the end of my last class,” Allie reminds him. “Got there just in time for the Dolly Dance.”

“Yes, I did, and it was too fucking adorable. All those little rugrats bouncing and tippy-toeing with a bunch of dolls and stuffed animals was cute enough, but add in my gorgeous wife leading them?” He dramatically clutches his chest. “My heart almost couldn't take it.”

“Wait...the Dolly Dance?” I feel my face scrunch as I search my memory. “That sounds really familiar...”

“Possibly because it's the same Dolly Dance that I did when I was four years old, and your mom was always the one driving me to dance classes, which meant you were usually dragged along, too.”

“Right! And I remember once your teacher let me join in!”

Varyyn turns to raise an eyebrow at me. “Did you dance, Diego?”

“Well, not like Allie, of course. My parents could never afford classes...and I'm not sure they would have wanted me to dance if they could...”

The mood is temporarily dampened, but quickly lifted again when Varyyn takes my hand. I turn to smile at him and notice his golden eyes dancing.

“...Dance with me, my darling.”

“Right now?”

He stands to take my other hand and pulls me to my feet, drawing me against his broad chest. “You are a beautiful dancer, my love. You have been as long as I have known you.” He starts to sway with me, and I lean into his embrace.

“Well, I am as long as I have your lead.”

He nuzzles my neck. “No...you are beautiful and graceful all on your own.” He winds his arm around my waist and lifts my hand into a waltz position, spinning me slowly across the deck.

“Careful, you two!” Mike calls. “Don't fall.”

I pull back and lock eyes with Varyyn. “We won't fall. He will never let me fall.”

“Never,” he agrees, not taking his eyes off my face. “You are always safe in my arms.”

I hear Allie mock-groan. “Well, we might as well all get up and leave. Those two are going to forget that there's anyone else here in like, two seconds.”

None of them move, though. She's right, but none of them move. The evening is pleasant, and the temperature hasn't dropped yet. It will after the sun's been down for awhile, but right now it's still warm. And I'll be warm awhile longer, in Varyyn's arms. And yes, the rest of the world does fade away when I'm looking into his golden eyes. Even after five years, there are moments when I cannot believe how in love I am with him. Or how much he loves me back. I can hardly believe how lucky I am to be living this moment, to be a part of this little nuclear family. My husband, my best friend and her husband, her husband's best friend, and in six months or so, my little godchild...

In the next moment, several things seem to happen at once. For the life of me, I'm not sure which happens first, whether I see the change in Varyyn's expression or hear Jake's voice asking, “You okay, Princess?”

I look sharply at Allie, who has brought a hand to her forehead. In the waning light, I can see that her skin has taken on an ashen cast. I break my embrace to step closer to the table, but I keep one hand in Varyyn's.

“I'm fine,” Allie mumbles. “Just...feeling a little lightheaded. I...think I'm gonna go inside and get horizontal for a moment.”

She starts to stand, but it's clear she's not feeling steady on her feet. Jake moves quickly to brace her, and she winds her arms around his neck, letting her head drop onto his shoulder. Her breath shudders audibly as she struggles to keep it slow and steady. Jake strokes her hair, looking at the rest of us with alarm in his eyes.

“Should we call the doctor?”

“I'm sure it's nothing,” Allie replies weakly. “Vertigo is common in pregnancy. They told me as much.” After a moment, she lifts her head to smile at him, still looking peaky. He frowns critically at her, studying her face. Finally, he pulls back enough to turn her toward the house, taking her gently by the arm to steady her.

“...I'm gonna call Michelle as soon as we've got you inside. Get her advice.”

“Let me help you with her.” Mike gets up to take her other arm. I start to follow them inside, but Varyyn tightens his grip on my hand, holding my back. I turn toward him. My concern immediately deepens at the look on his face.

“Varyyn? Sweetie, what is it?”

“...She was seeing something,” he murmurs in Vaanti.

“What? What do you mean?”

“A vision. She showed it to me. There was...a figure in shadow. Someone familiar to her.”

I am still for a moment, trying to process this. “...Familiar to her...I don't think there's anyone familiar to her who wouldn't be familiar to me...unless...it's someone we knew in another time loop that I don't remember...”

“I don't know if you know this person. ...But the figure was familiar to me, too.”

“Do you think this...vision has anything to do with her getting dizzy?”

Varyyn shrugs. “I don't know enough about child-carrying to guess.”

I step forward to cup his cheek and press my lips to his—both because I want to kiss him, and because I need a moment to gather my thoughts.

“Okay. Let's not get carried away here. Let's not say anything unless she does, okay? Jake's jumpy enough with the news of that Arachnid mook, and with Allie being pregnant. If she doesn't know who the figure is yet and neither do you, there's no telling whether they're actually significant. I mean...it might be Yvonne. Or Malatesta, or Kele. One of those people who went back to their own times after the timelines reset.”

Varyyn exhales slowly and nods. “You are right, my darling. Of course. There is no reason to get upset.” He kisses my forehead. “...You have been a voice of reason around here of late, do you know that?”

I sigh a little, raising myself to kiss his throat. “It's a dirty job, but someone's gotta do it. ...But I guess I've grown up a lot from the kid I was when you first met me, huh?”

“We both have, my own sweet love. But you in particular have grown so strong.”

I feel heat rising to my cheeks at the praise, but I can't help smiling. “...Let's go inside, sweetheart. It's getting cold. And I do want to check on Allie.”

Allie is lying on the couch when we get inside, her phone on speaker beside her head, talking to Michelle. After a series of questions, Michelle concludes that there is probably no cause for alarm. At this point in her pregnancy, Allie is probably getting dizzy because the growing uterus is pressing on her nerves. But Michelle does insist that she make an appointment to see her doctor in the next few days, and Allie promises she will.

She seems to feel better after a few more minutes of rest. She doesn't mention the vision of the shadowy figure. And if she and Varyyn mind-talk about it, they don't say anything to the rest of us.

Silas Prescott

The call comes well after the night nurse has left, from a number that comes up on my phone as Unknown. I was expecting this, and I answer.

“This is Silas Prescott.”

The voice that answers is rough and masculine, pitched low, with a cadence that makes me think of the storytellers of the far away ancient tribes that Helena used to study with such wonder.

“Silas Prescott,” the voice murmurs. “A mutual friend has asked me to speak with you. Listen, and I will tell you the story of the Endless.”

#pixelberry choices #choices stories you play #playchoices #Endless Summer #hero #grayson prescott #kenji katsaros #eva minuet #Diego Ricardo Ortiz Soto #Jake McKenzie #sean gayle #Craig Hsiao #raj bhandarkar #aleister rourke #grace hall #estela montoya #quinn kelly #michelle nguyen #zahra namazi

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jojoscracklife · 6 years ago

Text

Beach Buddies In Spring

Title: Beach Crackies In Spring

Author:jojoscracklife

Summary: Crack baby fanfic with Jotaro and Okyasu on the beach while Jotaro mosies down memory lane.

Warnings: crack, swearing, crack

Word Count: 895

Jotaro Kujo awoke to his alarm at precisely 5:00 A.M. and headed to his usual spot on the Morioh Beachfront. He had to write a thesis for his marine biology degree, but he still had no idea what he was going to write about. Along with the stress of Joseph coming to Morioh, and Chilli Pepper still in possession of the arrow, Jotaro felt slightly overwhelmed. The moment he began to show some emotion from the stoicism, he heard a familiar “Yo!” from behind him.

Okuyasu Nijimura, the thickheaded bff of his uncle Josuke, decided to skip school and sit by the beach. Jotaro wanted to get up, but he decided to stay when the bald child asked him a very scary question.

“Hey, who the hell was DIO?”

Jotaro feels a tremble through his body. Just the thought of that ripped blond babe of a vampire made him remember the good old 80’s.

“Why are you screaming that name?” Jotaro responded with a panicked expression.

Okuyasu replied simply “It’s in all caps, so I assumed you could only scream his name. But who was he?”

“An old enemy of the Joestars, and I killed him. He killed a few of my friends before I beat him. Crazy bastard dropped a steamroller on me, and almost killed Josuke’s dad.”

“Josuke told me about that, and I was wondering something. Were you always so calculated? I mean, a guy as smart as you had to have been able to kick his ass no problem, right?”

Jotaro was sent on a trip down memory lane. He sat back down and began to describe what kind of kid he was. He loved his mommy. Played fun board games with her. Then he watched a Clint Eastwood movie, and decided he wanted to be a cool kid. Cool kids never showed emotion, beat the shit out of random bystanders, and called their mothers bitches all the time. Then DIO happened. That son of a bitch stole his great grandpa’s body, and sent his mother into a state of near death for 50 days. They had to travel to Egypt to save his precious mommy, and Jotaro was ready to do just that. Along the way, he met an Egyptian fortune teller, another Japanese student, a French guy, and an actual Boston Terrier. Oh, and his stupid American grandpa was there too. Everybody survived until about the end, where the fortune teller got turned into a pair of hands, the dog got kicked to death, and his class buddy got a big hole punched through him. All by two gay, homoerotic vampire men.

“Man, and I thought me and my brother had it bad with DIO, but he fucked you right up, didn’t he?” Okuyasu flashed a big, stupid smile at the stoic man.

Jotaro held back a smile and replied “He really did. Do you want to know how I beat him?”

Okuyasu lit up like a christmas tree “Hell yeah! What were you like in your prime?”

Jotaro described being able to see in the stopped time, and learning to move for a measly 2 seconds. Then, he gushed about punching a steamroller so hard, it was suspended in the air between the two of them, and the real epic moment where he waited for DIO to hit his time limit, and then stopped time himself, popping up behind the cocky bastard and punching his legs really hard.

“And you know what I said to him?” Jotaro smirked at the boy.

“Oh shit, did you tell him like ‘This one’s for my great granddad’, or something cool?”

“No, I told him ‘There’s one simple reason why you lost, DIO. It’s because you really pissed me off.’” Jotaro awaited his reaction.

“Holy shit, that is the lamest thing you could have said. Like, really, ‘You pissed me off’? Couldn’t come up with anything else?”

Jotaro looked like someone just slapped his first batch of cookies out of his hands and spit in his face.

“Did you even do anything to really hurt him?” Okuyasu asked with a stunned look on his face.

“I- I mean, I kinda crushed his skull, but not for very long. And I also, uh, broke his stand’s legs, making him explode. I guess that might have hurt him, or something.” Jotaro replied timidly.

Okuyasu laughed back, “Dude, I just would have kicked him in the balls a whole bunch, or even scraped them away with The Hand.”

Jotaro remembered that the boy had a similar stand to Vanilla Ice, except instead of his whole body annihilating space itself, it was just his hand that could do it.

“I don’t have to sit here and take this.” Jotaro scraped his notebook and pencils and started his way back to the hotel when he suddenly felt himself dragged back, and Okuyasu put his arm around the tall child.

“Oh come on, don’t be such a baby. Come on, let’s go eat some Italian, and I can just sneak back into class before lunch break ends!”

“Well, I guess I’m in a real spaghetti mood.” Jotaro smiled lightly.

“Cool, but you’re paying. I’m a high school student, and you wouldn’t want to stiff Tonio, he might be in some Italian mafia!” Okuyasu gave Jotaro a hearty pat on the back.

“Oh, good grief.” Jotaro sighed.

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fortune-fool02 · 5 years ago

Text

I’ll Make a Man Out of You

Jean Pierre Polnareff x female reader

Requested by: anonymous

Song: I’ll make a man out of you from Mulan

I love this song, thank you for the request. Please enjoy. It’s kinda long as I got carried away with it.

Let's get down to business, to defeat the Huns Did they send me daughters, when I asked for sons? You're the saddest bunch I ever met But you can bet before we're through Mister, I'll make a man out of you

During his travels around the world, Avdol has encountered many strange and powerful Stand Users; Iggy was a perfect example of this. Though, when discovering that their true opponent was the vampirc male who has caused much suffering to Holly, he knew they were going to need someone else’s help.

It had taken the Speedwagon Foundation a total of ten days before they could find the person Avdol had told them about, even with the information the Fortune-teller had given them. But, when they did eventually find her, it had taken quite some convincing to get them to actually go with them. Avdol had given them a letter to give them and that was all it took for the person to go with them.

The helicopter landed in front of the crusaders, a smile lifting Avdol’s lips at the helicopter, knowing exactly who was inside. Polnareff stood beside him, throwing him a look.

“This isn’t going to be another dog is it?” he asked and Avdol shook his head. The Frenchman sighed in relief, the last thing he wanted was to deal with another dog like Iggy. The mutt seemed to love to ruin his hair more than anyone else’s. The door opened to reveal an empty seat. Confusion swirled around the group -excluding Avdol- and Polnareff approached the helicopter, peering inside to find no one.

“Is this a joke or somethi-” The Frenchman was cut off by a sudden force slamming into his side, sending him flying towards the group. He sat up, groaning a little, only to see a figure dart towards him like a bullet, he couldn’t get a single look at the figure with their speed.

“Chario-!” Again, he was cut off by another force slamming onto his chest, pinning him to the ground and holding him there. Opening his eyes, he saw a [Hair colour] female crouching over him, her hand on his chest to hold him down. Cold, [Eye colour] orbs glaring into his with the intensity of a predator pinning its prey down, ready to slaughter them.

“You’re dead.” She stated before standing up and dusting herself off. Polnareff sat up again, ignoring the objection in his chest and spine,

“What the hell was that?” he shouted, the woman turned to him.

“That was how easy it was for me to have killed you if I wished to.” she answered it like a simply fact. All eyes shifted to Avdol, waiting for an explanation from the man. Avdol chuckled lightly, motioning to the [Hair colour] female.

“This is [Name]. She will be assisting us for our battle against Dio.” he said, “She is the advantage we need against him.” Kakyoin titled his head a little, giving her a quick look before turning to Avdol.

“How come?” Avdol looked at [Name], asking a silent question ad she shrugged her shoulders a little.

“Because [Name], here, used to be one of Dio’s servants.”

Tranquil as a forest but on fire within. Once you find your centre, you are sure to win. You're a spineless, pale, pathetic lot. And you haven't got a clue. Somehow I'll make a man out of you.

As it turns out, the advantage [Name] offered was not quite what they were all expecting. By “help” the crusaders believed that she would offer information of how to defeat Dio; that was not what she offered. Instead, she would battle against them and criticise their strategies on the smallest of things they did wrong. This woman, even when they worked together against her, was still the only one standing despite what they did.

Polnareff groaned loudly as he foot landed on his chest again, a disappointed sigh leaving her lips. Odd as it was, that seemed to hurt more than he strikes -and they did hurt. She was merciless, ruthless and unforgiving, just as their enemy would be.

“If I go easy on you then that’s setting you up for failure. Do you think Dio would go easy on you because you asked?” was what she would say when asked. And Polnareff knew she had a point. The flames of vengeance for his sister thrived inside of him, fuelled by her disappointing looks, he would prove her wrong. He would beat her fair and square.

And so, he asked [Name] to train him personally. She accepted.

I'm never gonna catch my breath. Say goodbye to those who knew me. Boy, was I a fool in school for cutting gym. This guy's got 'em scared to death. Hope he doesn't see right through me. Now I really wish that I knew how to swim.

Each session ended the same: Polnareff on his back, groaning in pain as she stood over him, repeating the same words each time, “You’re dead. Try again.”. Each time, he got back up, he could barely land a strike on her despite all the things she has told him. Any confidence he had of exacting his revenge for his sister, and earning [Name]’s approval, was broken down with these sessions.

One day, he didn’t turn up for the training, thus making [Name] search for him. She found him laying in his bed, bandaged up and staring at the ceiling with a blank look.

“What are you doing?” she asked him, expression and voice blanker than an empty canvas. He didn’t look at her,

“Giving up.” he answered, “I can’t defeat you, therefore, what chance do I stand against Dio or his other servants?” She may not have shown it but [Name] was shocked by this. Polnareff was a determined soul, she could see that in his actions and his eyes when they trained, he refused to stay down unless she forced him. At any given chance, he was back on his feet and trying to land a strike. To find him like this, it surprised her to say the least.

Sitting beside him on the bed, she turned her gaze to him. “Polnareff, giving up now is accepting defeat.” she said, recalling something that she had been told long ago. “If you give up now then you never wanted to avenge your sister as much as you claim to.” That earned a reaction from the Frenchman, a nerve struck.

“Don’t you dare question my determination for my sister.” he growled, the flames of determination flickering again. [Name] blinked at him, unfazed by these flames.

“There it is. Your fatal flaw.” Polnareff blinked at her, “Everyone has a fatal flaw, that one thing that blinds you and will lead to your downfall. And your’s is your need to avenge your sister.” [Name] explained. Polnareff tilted his head a little, intrigued to hear her explain this to him. “However, Polnareff, you can use your fatal flaw and turn it into your weapon. That determination is admirable but you have to learn how to control it before it controls you.”

Be a man. We must be swift as the coursing river. Be a man. With all the force of a great typhoon. Be a man. With all the strength of a raging fire. Mysterious as the dark side of the moon.

Polnareff took [Name]’s words to heart and that was evident with their next session. As they fought, he allowed himself to relax, his mental state calming as he avoided her strikes. He understood her lesson: Do not let your emotions become your enemies, control them and focus. The weight of Sherry’s death crushed his like a boulder, weighing him down and straining him; he needed to accept what happened and not fester in the wounds.

And it was this acceptance that allowed the boulder to shatter, letting him free himself from his little prison. His hand struck out, Silver Chariot darting forward and lashing at [Name] with incredible speed with equal strength behind it, sending the [Hair colour] female flying back. He had done it. He had landed a hit on her.

When she sat upright, he saw her [Eye colour] orbs lock on him, a soft light flickering across them. The first glimpses of emotion he has seen on her since he first met her weeks ago. Her lips shifted, lifting up into a sad yet happy smile, a relieved kind of smile.

He had done it. He had defeated her. [Name] rose up and approached him, that smile never faltering, as she stood in front of him. Her hand resting on his shoulder,

“My job here is done.” In the space of a handful of weeks, she has seen Polnareff grow in a way that not many people did. Maybe he did stand a chance against Dio after all, she could only hope so.

Be a man. We must be swift as the coursing river. Be a man. With all the force of a great typhoon. Be a man. With all the strength of a raging fire. Mysterious as the dark side of the moon.

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