#oli would in some ways be a perfect victim:

[vagueiish]

i think that it's gonna be oli's canon that he and asta did meet before the events of the game. like, briefly. and very shortly before, mere days

and, yeah, asta did try to seduce the guy and bring him back to cazador. but oli's hella insecure + he's demi. so like not really interested (yet) (i mean, come on, he wants to know how he could be into someone only five minutes after meeting) + he's almost willfully oblivious to flirting (and also thanks some timely intervention from a family friend! what luck!!!) so he's safe. barely.

mostly i want this big, dumb interaction where asta tries to be seductive and oli's like ????? the whole time. something along the lines of:

oli, trying to make polite conversation while waiting out the rain: so, uh... what's your name? astarion: whatever you want it to be, darling~ oli, not exactly unused to being flirted with but isn't exactly super used to it and doesn't want to make assumptions: is... is that elven, or...?

[struwwelzeter]

THANK YOU. I’m so tired of everyone hand waving away how bad the DDR truly was because they all look at Flake and go “smashing, you funky little Commie.” The other four (Not Oli since he’s functionally mute, sorry bruh) are all pretty vocal about how shit it was and how badly growing up there fucked them up, but sure. Let’s ignore the 99% evil, in favor of Flake not having to make decisions about what kind of coffee he wants. Priorities.

Yes, but they all also DO say that some parts weren’t that bad. The point is, it’s not completely black and white, and it would be nice if we could treat it as not black and white. My problem witb Flake in that interview was that it sounded a bit like the bad didn’t exist, which he has also manged to mention before.

This is such difficult thing just in general. I think there is a tendency, especially right now, to want to sweeten the deal with this system because we are all so god damn tired and victimized by capitalism. I get that, hell I’m a red flag waving half-way there commie myself but it’s really only reactionary.

I watched the Rohwedder documentary the other day (the one Flake is in, it’s A Perfect Crime on Netflix), and one of those old white capitalist assholes hands down goes “well they were all doing well, noone had to starve, they never feared for their workplace, but they did not create wealth” as if the only reason to exist was this amounting stuff concept that destroys the planet and makes people miserable, and yeah, I kind of wanted to hit that dude in the head and follow Flake into revolution.

But then you weren’t allowed to dress the way you wanted. Listen to the music the way you wanted. Play the way you wanted. Opt out of a job you hated. Make the art you wanted or look at the art you wanted. Refuse to pick up a weapon and you go to jail. Be on the wrong demonstration and end up being beaten up. Get pumped full of testosterone without your consent in order to win gold medals to improve the image of the motherland.

The problem with political discourse at the moment is that we are all still essentially fighting the cold war. Someone asks for affordable health care and uses the word socialism and someone who suffered under this system understandably never wants to hear that again. And there we go running circles, instead of understanding that we can learn from both sides mistakes and build something new. That possibility gets negated way too much and is surprisingly little part of the political discourse, because we are more tied up in finding quick solutions rather than a new political philosophy.

I always liked how they talked about it in the past because I think especially Till and Paul were quite good at making the point about what was good and what was bad. Acknowledging that not everything was terrible in the DDR is a good thing. Acknowledging that we can never have it back anyway because it was also build on abuse and censorship is also a good thing. Can we please just have both.

[prettyboyspenceee]

Chapter 5 - The Letter and The Kiss

 A/N: I wrote this chapter in one sitting. I am TIRED. I’m sorry I took so long to post it! 

Description: The team heads back to New York for a case that hits Olivia close to home.  

Character Appearances: Olivia Morales, Spencer Reid, Jennifer “JJ” Jareau, Emily Prentiss, Aaron Hotchner, David Rossi, Penelope Garcia, Derek Morgan, Matthew Morales 

Disclaimer: I don’t own Criminal Minds! Kinda sucks for me :(

Word Count: 2,232 words

Posted: November 30th, 2019

---

The plane ride back to New York was uncharacteristically silent. As the team went through case files, Olivia went through countless amounts of photos of her and Jamie. 

She smiled at her phone as she admired a photo of them in their teenage years, "It gets better y'know." 

Olivia smiled at JJ, "I know." 

"It doesn't get easier, though," The blonde said as she sat down beside her friend. 

"I know."

Olivia felt the team's eyes on the back of her neck, "I'm okay," she said as she turned to her coworkers. 

"Livvy, please, use this case to go home," Emily pleaded. 

"No, this is our job. I'm working regardless if the victim is Jamie or not." 

"Garcia's on the line," Rossi said, interrupting the brewing argument between the two friends.

The team turned to the computer as Garcia's face appeared on the screen, "Hey guys," her usual chipper tone was lost from her voice as she knew how close the case hit home, "NYPD just found another body, they're requesting you on the scene." 

"Where, Baby Girl?" Derek asked in attempts to cheer her up. 

"Upper West Side. I'm sending you all the address now." 

"Thanks, Garcia," Olivia said. 

Penelope flashed a small smile at Olivia. She knew her friend was hurting, "I love you guys. Stay safe." 

"We will," Spencer assured her. 

"Garcia out," Penelope said as the screen turned back to the FBI logo. 

"We don't have a case file for the newest victim," Hotch announced. 

The team nodded, "Morgan, Morales and Reid, you'll go to the newest scene. The rest of us will be at the precinct looking over evidence." 

"Are you ready, Kiddo?" Rossi asked Olivia. 

She nodded, "I'm ready." 

---

Derek, Olivia, and Spencer walked side by side as they entered the dark alley. 

"Excuse me! You can't just walk into a crime scene!" A detective called out to them. 

Olivia turned around first, "I'm SSA Olivia Morales, and these are my colleagues, SSA Derek Morgan, and Dr. Spencer Reid. We're with the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit," she stuck out her hand to shake, he looked at it with disdain. Olivia quickly got the message and lowered her arm. 

"I'm sorry to disappoint, but we don't need the help," he smirked at Olivia, "especially yours."

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Spencer said suddenly. 

"Trust me, no disrespect, but I'm not sure how she's qualified," the detective said. 

Derek stepped forward, "I'm going to advise that you get off our crime scene before I make you." 

The detective scoffed, "Make me." 

As Olivia watched the exchange, she began to laugh. 

"Is there something funny, little lady?" The detective said, smirking. 

Olivia smiled and approached the detective, "Detective Ryan, is it?" 

"Yes," the blonde said with a cocky grin. 

"Do you know who I am, Detective Ryan?" Olivia said, still wearing her sickly sweet smile. 

"No. Why should I?" Ryan said. 

Spencer and Derek turned to one another, both wearing confused expressions. They wondered how much leverage Olivia had. 

"Well, you see, I'm not sure if you're familiar with Police Commissioner Romero." 

"I'm familiar with Romero. How is he relevant?" Ryan said with an eye roll. 

"He's my godfather," Detective Ryan opened his mouth to speak but was quickly cut off by Olivia, "Are you familiar with Captain Morales?" 

Detective Ryan swallowed, "Yes, she's my captain." 

The two male agents smirked, "She's my mother," Olivia said.

Detective Ryan's eyes widened, "I-I didn't know."

"That's alright, Detective Ryan. Did you serve?" 

Ryan nodded, "Yes, I served in the Navy." 

Olivia giggled, "Perfect! Are you familiar with Commander Morales?" 

"Yes, ma'am. He's a legend." 

"I'm so glad you think that! I'll pass the message along. He's my brother," Olivia said with a smirk. 

"Oh, wow. I'm so sorry. I would have never said the things I said if I knew who you were," Detective Ryan said. 

Olivia scoffed, "Of course you wouldn't. If you disrespect any more women who are on the force, I will contact your superiors." 

"Yes, ma'am."

Olivia nodded, "Now get off my crime scene."

---

"When Olivia finished putting Detective Ryan in his place, we found out that the other victim also had her pinky cut off," Derek recounted. 

"But why? Why does this unsub take the pinkies?" Rossi questioned.

The team began to mull over ideas about the significance of the pinkies, "Mouse? What do you think?" Derek asked her. 

Olivia turned her back to the whiteboard she was studying, her eyes filled with tears, "I think I know why." 

Spencer quickly moved next to Olivia and grabbed her hand, coaxing her to sit down. 

"Liv, what's wrong?" Spencer asked, still holding her hand. 

"When I was leaving the bodega the last time we were here, Jamie called me his soulmate," she took a deep breath and gripped Spencer's hand harder than ever, "I laughed it off and told him that he wasn't."

It was then when Spencer realized where she was going with her story, "The Red String."

Olivia let a few tears fall down her face, "The Red String," she said in confirmation. 

"What? Liv, Spence, what is that?" JJ asked. 

Before Spencer could speak up, Olivia beat him to it, "The Red String of Fate is a string that connects one person to their soulmate. In Japanese and Korean culture, it's often depicted as being tied around the pinky."

"It quite literally connects you to 'the one,'" Spencer said. 

"Well, that has to mean that there are some connections between the victims, right?" Emily said. 

Olivia sniffled, "No, I checked all the victims, I even had Garcia check. There are no connections." 

"This unsub only kills twice in whatever city he's in," Emily said. 

"Prentiss, what cities were those?" Rossi asked. 

Emily cleared her throat, "Little Rock, Baton Rouge, and then he jumped to here."

"Why? Why would he leave the South to come up here?" Hotch asked. 

Before anyone could answer, the door to the conference room opened. 

Olivia gasped, "Matthew?" 

Matthew Morales smiled, "Hey, sis." 

Olivia quickly stood up, pulling Spencer up with her, the team laughed at Matthew's surprised expression. 

"Oh! Sorry, Spence," Olivia said. She let go of his hand and quickly embraced Matthew. 

She turned to the team, "Guys, this is my brother, Matthew."

"Aaron Hotchner, David Rossi, Derek Morgan, Jennifer Jareau," Matthew knew who each team member was because of his sister, "Emily Prentiss," Matthew said with a wink. 

Emily smiled, "Nice to see you again, Matthew." 

Finally, Matthew turned to Spencer, "Dr. Spencer Reid." 

Spencer nodded, "It's nice to meet you." 

Matthew laughed, "I can't believe I finally get to meet the guy my sister won't stop talking about." 

Derek laughed as he watched his friend turn bright red, "Matt!" Olivia yelled as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. 

"I'm just stating the truth, Oli," Matthew said with a smirk. 

Olivia groaned, "How did you know I was here?" 

"Mom told me I could stop by."

Olivia rolled her eyes, "Of course she did." 

Matthew put a hand on his younger sister's shoulder, "I heard about Jamie. I'm sorry."

Olivia nodded, "I'm sorry too. But we're gonna catch the bastard who killed him."

Matthew gave Olivia a smile, "I know you will."

---

It was nearing the end of the first week in New York, and the team still had no leads. 

As Olivia was coming into the precinct, an officer handed her a letter, "What's this?" 

The officer shrugged, "I have no idea. It was in today's mail." 

"Why are you giving it to me?" Olivia asked. 

The officer pointed to the top right corner of the envelope, "It's addressed to you and your team."

Olivia furrowed her eyebrows, "Thank you, Officer Lewis."

Officer Lewis nodded and walked away. 

Olivia quickly made her way to the team, "We got mail."

"What?" Rossi asked.

"From who?" JJ asked. 

"No idea. It's addressed to me and the rest of us."

Before Olivia opened the letter, Spencer stopped her, "Let me open it." 

"Why?"

"It might not be safe." 

JJ smirked, Spencer would do anything to keep Olivia safe, "Alright." 

Spencer ripped open the envelope, after a thorough inspection, he determined it was safe, "Well, what does it say?" Hotch asked.

Spencer cleared his throat, “Is it crazy for you to tell your friends to go on home, so we can be here all alone? We'll meet again.” 

"The first sentence is in quotation marks," Emily pointed out. 

"Olivia, you look puzzled," Rossi pointed out. 

"I feel like I've heard the first line before," Olivia said. 

"I'll call Garcia. She'll find it," Emily said. 

"You've reached Penelope Garcia, the good witch of the BAU. What can I do for you?" Penelope said over the phone.

"Hey Pen, I need you to look something up for me," Olivia said. 

"Anything for you," Penelope gushed over the phone. 

Olivia smiled, "Ready?"

"Yup!"

“Is it crazy for you to tell your friends to go on home, so we can be here all alone?" Olivia recited. 

The team listened to the keyboard clacking on the other side, they waited a few moments before Penelope responded, "Nada."

"Really?" Olivia asked, she could've sworn she's heard the phrase before.

"Zilch, babe. Sorry," Garcia said apologetically. 

Olivia sighed, "It's alright, Pen. We'll see you when we get home."

---

The team had been in New York for too long. They still had no leads, they barely had a working profile.

Matthew joined his sister at the airport to say goodbye. She sat close to her brother, unsure if she really wanted to leave, "I feel like I owe it to him, Matthew," Olivia said. 

Matthew sighed, "I know you, you work with the best team in the world, you'll catch the unsub." 

"Thanks, Matt." 

The siblings sat in silence before Matthew stood up, "I'm going to talk to Reid for a bit." 

Olivia glared at him, "Why?"

"Just some man to man stuff. Nothing too serious," Matthew said with a grin.

"Matt, don't do anything stupid," Olvia warned. 

Matthew rolled his eyes, "I'm hurt that you think I would." 

Matthew made his way to the young doctor, "Hello, Reid." 

"Hello?" Spencer said, confused as to why Olivia's brother was speaking to him.

Matthew studied Spencer for a moment before speaking, "Jamie told me about you before he died. He told me about the conversation the two of you had." 

Spencer nodded, "I remember." 

"Jamie always wanted the best for Liv, he told me about the way the two of you looked at each other. Hell, I saw it for myself when I first met all of you." 

Spencer nodded again, wondering where Matthew was going with this, "Well, what I'm trying to say, is that you are the best for Olivia. You two clearly have something. From what Liv has told me, you're a great guy." 

Spencer looked at Olivia and smiled, "She's a great girl." 

Matthew laughed quietly, "Spencer, you should tell her."

"Tell her what?" 

"Tell her how you feel." 

---

When Spencer and Olivia arrived at their building, Olivia didn't want to be alone. 

"Hey, Spence?" Olivia called out

"Yeah?" Spencer said. His mind was still reeling from his conversation with Matthew. 

"Do you mind if I spend the night at your place? I don't think I can be alone." 

Spencer took one look at his friend, and he knew he couldn't say no, "Yeah, come inside." 

As the two got settled in his apartment, Spencer realized that Olivia didn't have any pajamas, "Do you want to go over to your apartment and grab some stuff?" He asked Olivia. 

Olivia shook her head, "I don't want to go over there right now."

Spencer nodded, "I'll find you something to wear."

Olivia shot him a quick smile, "Thanks, Spence."

---

Long after Olivia had changed into Spencer's oversized Cal-Tech hoodie and his sweatpants the two began a Doctor Who marathon. 

"Are you tired?" Spencer asked. 

"No..." Olivia said. 

Spencer smiled, "Liv, I just saw you yawn. I can sleep on the couch, you can take the bed."

"Spence, we can share the bed. We've done it before." 

Spencer thought about it for a moment before nodding, "C'mon."

As the two settled into Spencer's bed, Olivia turned to face him, "What were you and my brother talking about?" 

Spencer cleared his throat, "I-uh... he was telling me to express my feelings for someone."

Olivia bit her lip, "Who?" 

"What?"

"Who is someone?" Olivia asked.

Spencer waited for a minute before responding, "You."

"How do you feel?" 

Spencer swallowed, "My feelings for you are unexplainable. I can't put them into words. When I'm with you, I know I'm okay. Whenever I'm around you, I feel like the luckiest guy in the world. You make my heart race, Olivia." 

Olivia smiled, "Spencer, I feel the same way." 

Spencer let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, "C-Can I kiss you?" 

Olivia smiled and nodded. As Spencer connected his lips with Olivia's, she felt like she was floating. The kiss was slow and sweet. Olivia was breathless when they pulled apart. 

Spencer smiled at Olivia, "I've been wanting to do that for a while now." 

Olivia laughed, "So have I." 

Olivia yawned, she rested her head against Spencer's chest, "Goodnight, Spencer."

Spencer smiled, he kissed Olivia's forehead, "Goodnight, Olivia." 

---

tags: @reid-187​ @queenspencerreid05​

[alphawave-writes]

Play me a memory--A sigma fic

Summary: Sigma hopes to transcribe the universe's melody, in hopes of awakening his true powers, but gets more than he bargains for when the government facility he has escaped from has found him once again.

Read it here, or find it on AO3

-

Sigma sits in front of a piano. Not the Bechstein studio grand piano that used to sit in his apartment in The Hague but a cheap, upright Yamaha instead. He knows it is old just from the touch, the damp thud of the keys and the slow responsiveness of the pedals. Most aggravating of all is the tuning, the way the notes sound off to his ears. He does not have perfect pitch, and he never will, but if he concentrates hard enough, he can feel the shape of a note. Middle C is a yellow circle, and if he rises it up to a D, it transforms into an orange triangle. He hypothesizes that his abilities over gravity have given him a sensitivity to the electromagnetic waves that make up sound, but he cannot test this without rigorous testing. The beauty of these powers is that there are so many potential experiments and possibilities.

It’s been a long time since he’s played. Or at least, he thinks it’s been a long time. The last time he had touched a piano was one week before he went up to the international space station that caused his accident, but time is no longer linear and memories no longer make sense and he cannot say how many years have already passed since then. Has it been three years or longer? He cannot say.

He very much prefers listening to music rather than playing it, but he does not have that luxury. Talon is many things but it is not a musically inclined organization. His previous request for an parabolic microphone must have fallen upon flat ears for the next day he gets a regular microphone, the kind used for karaoke parties. It didn’t even have the batteries in it. So it is a miracle of sorts that his request for a piano got through. It was probably salvaged from a nearby dump, but it is still in working order, and he is grateful for whatever gifts Talon bestow upon him.

His body suddenly stiffens as he feels a shift in the air. He turns his head slowly, eyes wide as he finds himself staring back into his face. Only it’s not his face but another version of him, decked out in the orange jumpsuit that government facility crafted specifically for him. His copy smirks sinisterly.

 “Gravity is like sanity. All you need is a little push.”

“W-w-what?”

 “They called the geniuses of old insane back in their times.”

He is frozen in fear, staring into a face that is his but not his. The other approaches him and places his hands on his shoulders. He can feel the energy being sapped away from his body, his twisted mirror image growing larger, impossibly larger than him. As the energy leaves his body, he can feel his mind clearing. As his mind clears, he can see this twisted alter ego for what it truly is. It is sin, the devil in disguise. And behind that disguise is the black hole that destroyed his career and his mind. And it laughs. It laughs so viciously.

He feels his body suddenly being rattled back and forth, and his mind is clouded once more. The cloned image of him is gone, replaced by an annoyed woman with chocolate skin and purple lips. Her hair is parted to one side, showcasing the cybernetic implants glowing on her skull.

“Are you OK, old man?” She huffs.

Sigma is about to say “no” but he shakes his head and clears himself of the hallucination. It is easier to keep the fractured pieces of his mind together when he has a familiar face by his side. “Y-yes, I’m OK. Sorry if I scared you, Miss Olivia.”

“Ay, don’t call me that. Call me ‘Sombra’ like everybody else.”

“Sorry. I’ll…try and remember for next time.”

“I give myself a cool name and no one takes it seriously anymore,” she mutters to herself. Her eyes fall on the piano. “We have a piano? When’d we get one?”

Sigma smiles, relieved for the change of subject. “I asked Talon to provide it for me. I told them it was necessary for my experiments.” He raises his eyebrows. “I guess you could say this is an instrument in more ways than one.”

Sombra makes a face that is a cross between a cringe and a wince. A lot of people make that face when he tells jokes. So many years later and people still do not appreciate a good pun.

“A-anyway, I had a breakthrough last night,” he continues. “I have harnessed the harness that is gravity, but I have yet to maintain it in whatever shape and form I desire. I was at a roadblock. Then, it hit me! I’ve been thinking about it all wrong, you see. I’ve been trying to use my equations and quantum instruments to further my research, but I’ve yet to use the most important tool at my disposal.” He smiles in excitement. “I’ve got the universe’s melody in my head, playing on repeat. I’ve heard it so many times before, so I must be able to play it in the real world. If my theories are correct, it is as simple as transcribing a piece of music by ear.” He plays a chord and frowns. “Unfortunately, it seems music appreciation does not equate to music composition.”

“Wait wait, so you’re telling me that playing the piano,” she gestures wildly at the object, “is going to help you create a black hole again?”

His eyes brighten. “Yes. That’s precisely it! I knew you would understand.”

Sombra raises her eyebrows in disbelief. Out of all the Talon operatives that Sigma has encountered, she is the least judgmental—or rather, she is the least likely to dismiss his ramblings completely. She can be rather judgmental when she wants to be, often when it comes to Reaper and Widowmaker, but she makes no remarks about him. Perhaps she thinks it is bad taste to make fun of a man crippled psychologically like he is. Or maybe she doesn’t care enough to say anything about it.

He turns back to the piano and starts playing discordant notes. It has been years since he played but he remembers how to lie his hands, where the keys were, how to make his fingers glide over the faux ivory. He’s almost startled by the ease in which he remembers, because he knows he cannot account this for mere muscle memory alone. There are some things people do not forget, he knows that, but it’s unnatural how comfortable he feels in front of the piano.

It’s almost as if he is supposed to be here. Like the universe is calling to him from within the hidden strings. His fingers fly across as if in a trance. He hears the whispering in the air, but he’s not sure if it’s the benevolent universe or the demonic other or some other creature outside the confines of time and space that have decided to play their games with him. He listens and copies their words. A dark expanse of his own creation surrounds him as his eyes turn cloudy.

He hears someone snap their fingers impatiently in his ears, and turns to find Sombra next to him. She looks annoyed but there’s a familiar shimmer of pity in her eyes. It betrays her, just like his mind betrays him.

“Earth to Sigma.”

He winces. “My apologies.”

“I don’t know what goes on inside your head. You have the thingy on. The pedal. You’re pressing on it.”

He glances down at his feet, which are currently covered in pink wooly socks. They are expensive, and currently his only frivolous purchase since joining Talon. He does not remember putting them on, or when he bought them, or why he chose pink of all colours. On closer inspection, he sees that his foot is firmly pressing down on the right pedal.

“Oh,” he says, surprised himself. “So I have.”

Sombra groans loudly. “I don’t know why they tell me to watch you. I just wanna go back to my computer and watch some videos. Play some games. Hack some dudes or something.”

Sigma frowns. “You do not have to supervise me if you don’t want to, Miss Oli—I mean, Sombra.”

“Nah, the boss will kill me if I do that. I gotta make sure you don’t get yourself into danger.” She walks over to the side and leans dramatically over the top of the piano. “C’mon, piano man. Play a song.”

“This piano is for research. It is certainly not to be played with.”

“But I’m so booored.” She rests her head on her arms. “You must know some song, right? Play me one.”

“I shouldn’t…” he begins to say, but his mind is already buzzing with the songs of his past. One sticks with him, imprinted in his soul. A song from his past that spoke of simpler times.

He looks up into her eyes and falls victim for her doe eyes. He takes a deep breath, composes himself as best as he can, and begins to play Erik Satie’s Gnossienne 1.

It’s not long before he gets lost in the melody. Music is a language as easy to speak as English and Dutch. Sentences flow from his fingertips, time condensed into notes and sounds. Dark magic threads and twists from his wrist as gravity lifts up and away from his body. His mind drifts away to become one with the song, splinters of his childhood resurfacing. Images of his piano instructor in his majestic home, stern and imposing. His father falls asleep for the last time in his study, the sky outside the window going from day to night, the stars twinkling in rhythm to the invisible song.

Objects float and fly above him. Particles transform into one-dimensional strings that ascend into higher dimensions. The piano rises with him. There’s a yelp of surprise. “Let me down, let me down!”

His eyes widen as he finally notices Sombra, flailing her arms as she floats helplessly in the air. In that instant the spell is broken and the world returns to clarity. Gravity returns with a shuddering thud as the two of them crash back down into orbit. He is able to land gently. Sombra does not have the same luck.

“D-Dios mio, you’re going to kill me!” She hisses, rubbing her backside painfully. He doesn’t want to tell her how lucky she was. A few centimetres to the right and she would have been trapped under the piano. On one or more occasion, he has commended Talon for having the mindfulness of nailing everything in his lab down. It has prevented more than a few accidents due to his ever shifting powers.

She looks at him sternly, fire in her eyes. He shrinks a little.

“I’ve theorized for a while that my abilities are linked to my mental and emotional state. It seems music is able to amplify my abilities.” Sigma puts his hand on his chin and frowns. “Perhaps later I can determine the source of this ‘amplification’ and utilize it myself. Right now, however, it is an unfortunate complication to my experiments.”

“I’ll say. You’re going to hurt yourself at this rate.”

“I realise that, but I am close, I can feel it.” His hands glide over the dusty top of the piano. “If I can just find the correct song, I might be able to harness the fullest potential of my abilities.”

“Then maybe put the piano in a different room? So you don’t destroy everything in this room if you do find it?” She suggests.

“No, I…it’s better that I am here, where I cannot hurt anyone.”

Death has unfortunately become the new norm in his life. As payment, Talon tasks him with going on missions with their officers, and that often leads to a battle to the death. No one expects an old man like him to fight, and they definitely do not expect to be flung around like paper ragdolls in the wind. It’s frightening how the guilt washes away easier the more blood he must spill. During one such mission, he almost found himself enjoying the violence.

He places his fingers back on the keys. Sombra takes her place in the far corner of the room and watches warily, away from danger. There are no more fluctuations in gravity that day.

-

He plays and he plays, morning day and night, but he is no closer to his goal. He has continued his normal experiments, with the piano experiments continuing during his break. He eats and drinks and sleeps, but it is at a bare minimum. Why is it now, when he seeks out the song does it decide to run away? Why is this silence louder than noise, overwhelming him with nothingness? Why is it when his mind has never been clearer does a part of him yearn for the spark of insanity?

There is madness in his actions, but it is controlled and tempered. His equations are correct, as they always have been. He has ripped out a bit of paper to write sheet music on and has done his best to interpret the song. He can only work through sound. If only he knows an expert in music composition, or sound engineering. His understanding of sound is limited to his extensive knowledge of electromagnetic waves. Tonality, timbre, chord structure, they are patterns he hears but does not understand.

It’s late at night but he presses onward. He’s close, so very close, and he must work now while his mind is still whole. The pieces never hold together for this long, and sooner or later it will fracture, but he must press onward while he still has control. He wants to feel normal, and to feel normal is to surround himself in his research, pushing forward to new limits and new heights. The stars call out for his name. First he must understand and master his abilities. Then he can continue his original dream to see the stars outside their humble galaxy and walk on the surface of planets that are not his home.

He doesn’t hear the thudding footsteps approaching in the dead of night. He doesn’t notice the red light on the security camera suddenly go dark or the crack of his lab door breaking open. It’s only when he hears the unmistakable sound of a gun’s safety being taken off that he finally notices that he’s no longer alone. Three men stand before him, each training their guns on him. The sigil of the government facility he escaped from is displayed fully on their uniforms. It taunts him in a way that a gun to the head cannot. His heart leaps out from his chest.

“Subject Sigma,” one of them barks. “Come with us quietly, or we will shoot.”

Despite every instinct in his body, he cannot move. He is frozen in place in front of the piano, trapped, as if he is still tied down to that accursed bed, like his freedom and everything since is a dream he has conjured. He can imagine their hands forcing him into horribly itchy orange jumpsuit, the unprofessional way they injected their sedatives into him, the way they talk about him like he’s beneath humanity, a hideous creature without thought or intelligence.

“Didn’t you hear what he said?” A second soldier growls. “Get a move on!”

His eyes glance around, desperate for a way to escape, but there is none. The exits are watched by more soldiers. The very safety features within this room, designed to minimize the harm he can cause with his powers, are now the portents of his doom. In this section of Talon’s HQ, no one will hear him if he screams, and even if someone does, he will have less than a second before he’s shot dead. He might be able to block or absorb most of the bullets, but it will be futile. It will buy him seconds, maybe a minute. It’s not enough.

Even the voice that screams for violence in his ear is unnaturally quiet. It knows that taking the offensive will not help them survive in this situation. They’re trapped.

The third man steps forward, a curious smile spreading across their face. He orders the other men to stand down. As Sigma watches, he sees that this man is not dressed like the others. He wore glasses over his eyes instead of the tactical masks everyone else did, and his uniform has the markings of a combat medic rather than a soldier.

“It’s good to see you again, Siebren.”

The realization floods him with a feeling of terror but he hides it behind his gritting teeth. This is the doctor that was in charge of him back then. This was his torturer above torturers, Satan amongst the demons. “Dubrovnik,” Sigma spat.

“You’ve done well for yourself, haven’t you? A nice fancy lab, some powerful friends on your side,” His eyes glance down. “Loving the socks. Really sells the old man look.”

“What do you want?”

“To finish my job, and that is to keep you contained,” Dubrovnik said.

“You cannot stop progress.”

“You are a threat to humanity.”

“I am in control.”

“Until when?!”

Sigma stiffens. Dubrovnik puts his gun away and approaches slowly, the hunter coming to collect his prize. Sigma doesn’t react when Dubrovnik tugs his chin forward, jerking his head up to look into those cold, black eyes. Dubrovnik is significantly shorter than him, but in his seated position, their heights are roughly equal. It’s a frighteningly familiar feeling, being manhandled like this, like he is just a piece of trash on the ground.

He wants to choke him, make him suffer, make him hurt in all the ways he has been hurt, but he can’t and Dubrovnik knows this. Dubrovnik relishes in it. He was, and still is, a sadist.

“Out of the oven and into the fire, right, Siebren?”

“What are you talking about?” He rasped.

“You don’t know what Talon is?”

“They saved me!”

“You never thought why?” Dubrovnik’s lips curl. “I’ll tell you why. It’s because they want a weapon. They want Excalbur, and you happen to be the one who pulled it out of the stone. They want war, Siebren, they don’t care about you. As soon as they can wield Excalibur for themselves, they will throw you away like trash. And when they have Excalibur, no one will be able to stop them. They are terrorists. You know this.”

He wants to tell Dubrovnik that he’s wrong, that Talon is an organization of intelligent men and women who want to help humanity take the next big step, but he sees the heat in Dubrovnik’s eyes and he cannot help but take pause. Dubrovnik truly believes this. But why? He is needed, he is important. They will not go through the trouble of saving one man unless he’s important. They have been so kind to him, provided so much for him. They will not abandon him…right?

Dubrovnik takes a step back, Sigma rubbing his neck self-consciously. He’s not sure he imagines it but there’s a flicker in Dubrovnik’s eyes, almost like he pities him.

“If you come with us, we will help you subdue these powers. No one will hurt you or use you. I promise.”

“How can you promise that, you Croatian hypocrite?” Sigma snarls.

“Because no one should wield the powers you wield. Not you. Not Talon. No one.”

Dubrovnik puts his hand out and Sigma is left dazed. He glances around at the guards, emotionlessly watching the exchange. As far as Sigma can tell, Dubrovnik is sincere. And that terrifies him, because Dubrovnik knows something he doesn’t. About Talon, probably.

Sigma realizes in that moment how little he knows about Talon. All he knows is that they support cutting edge research, and have a private military to protect themselves. What is Talon’s goal? Why did they bother with an old man like him?  

He almost reaches for that hand, but Dubrovnik’s form swirls and shifts and suddenly his mirror image is standing there, orange jumpsuit and bitter smile and all.

 “Will you really submit yourself to him again?”

“What else can I do?”

 “You know what to do.”

The mirror image gestures behind Sigma, pointing at the piano. His skin pales.

“I-I can’t. I need to hold it together.”

“A little push,” they say as Dubrovnik appears once again from the smoke. The mirror image is no more.

“If you’re done with your muttering, would you kindly come with me, Siebren?”

Sigma turns back to the piano, his eyes wide. He can hear the melody again. The universe is speaking for him again. It asks him to play its song. It shows him the chords. It tells him the price it will wreak upon his mind.

It’s a price he is willing to pay this time. He turns around and opens the lid for the piano.

“What are you doing?” Dubrovnik asks.

“Let me play one more song before I go,” he says. “It’s my final request.”

He sees the blank faces looking at him in the reflection of the lacquered wood. In the darkness he finds his place on the faux ivory easily. He presses his foot lightly down on the pedal, spreads his fingers on the keys, and pushes his fractured mind off the cliffside. With perfect precision he plays a song of his own creation, a tribute to the song the universe sings.

Memories of his past resurface. The bitter judgment of his academic rivals, the callous disregard of his piano instructor, the stars in the sky, the sorrow of losing his home, the rage of knowing no one cared enough to find him. Dark emotions coalesce into space as gravity releases itself from its chains, sending everyone in the lab flying. There’s screams and shouts as guns are ripped from people’s grasps. Dubrovnik is saying something to him. A plea, a beg, something along those lines, but all Sigma can see is the cosmos expanding, with him at the epicenter. He’s no longer playing the piano; gravity is doing the work for him. He flies above everyone else, his hand outstretched. With every bit of himself he loses, he gains control. The dark voice in his brain laughs in murderous glee.

“D-d-don’t do this, Siebren, please! You’re better than this! You’re not a murderer!”

Alarms are going off above his head, painting the room a bright red. People are holding onto each other, trying to hold on. They know what is coming before he does. Despite the chaos and turmoil before him, he is strangely at peace. The universe sings its lullaby to him from the piano. There is no time signature, no bars, no rhyme or reason. It should not work, but it does.

A placid smile escapes his lips as he brings everyone crashing down. The crunch of broken bones is followed shortly by the bellows of pain. The dark voice takes over, grabbing one of the guns, still hovering up in the air. He shoots—not accurately, but he shoots. There is silence, save for the klaxon above his head and the whimper of one more person.

Dubrovnik crawls towards the door, broken. His left shin bone is sticking out from his pants, trailing blood. Sigma calmly floats forward, the dark voice in control as he pushes the might of gravity upon Dubrovnik’s head. There’s a gasp of air, and then the crunch of bone, and finally a squish. Red liquid oozes out of every hole of Dubrovnik’s head.

It’s not long before Talon realizes the reason for the breach in their HQ. Reaper and Widowmaker are the first ones there, guns at the ready. They round the corner to Sigma’s office down, ready to fight, only to discover the aftermath of a bloodbath. The entire lab is splattered in crimson, dead bodies lying in crooked angles and twisted postures. A pile of guns are stacked in one corner, all crushed and broken. By the door, a man's head looks to have been squeezed together.

Sigma sits alone on the piano stool in front of the cheap, upright Yamaha piano. He is perfectly clean, as is the piano. As they tiptoe over the bodies, careful to not step on the blood, Sigma turns to them with a stern but relaxed expression.

“You’re late,” he says, before waving dismissively. “It’s fine, though. I handled it. I think I even learned a new trick or two.”

If Reaper is not wearing his mask, they would see his mouth open and shut. He’s speechless.

“Since you’re here, how about a song?” Sigma cracks his knuckles and places his fingers on the keys. “How about ‘Piano Man’ by Billy Joel? An old classic.”

No one says anything. Reaper and Widowmaker stand there while Sigma plays and sings along from memory. They do not move. Their eyes are concentrated on the swirling dark energy hovering over the piano, bopping in tune to the beat of the song.

[franklyshipping]

Let Us Give You A Hand ~ A Markiplier and Jacksepticeye Ego Fanfic

This is a tale of two cheeky boys getting their comeuppance! LEEET'S DO IT!

TAGGING: @robbie-lee-zombie @googlee-oliver and @thehostofleetrature

It had been.....a day of mayhem. Cheeky, playful, strategized, giddy, adorable mayhem. The makers of the mischief this time being Robbie the zombie, and the sweet sunflower android Oliver. Recently they'd had a realisation that they had more in common that you may think....an appreciation for the pure things in the world, a happy innocence, a subconscious ability to bring joy to those they loved....and the ability to detach limbs in a non-grotesque, comedic manner. After they both came to this realisation in a moment of squealing joy, they hatched a plan to give some of their loved ones a chance to....smile....whether they wanted to or not. Oliver would plan the strategy efficiently with his hard-drive mind, Robbie would scope out the area by taking out an eye and letting it roll about silently. They were the perfect combination for seeking their targets....and then taking them out.

Their targets would often be carrying out a task and having a minor difficulty with it, and said person would comment to themselves on how they were having a hard time....and then Oliver and Robbie would both ''lend a hand''. At which point, each of them would detach their hands which would scurry forth and launch a brief tickle attack; then the hands would return to their owners who would promptly make their escape whilst cackling with unrestrained joy....whilst leaving one of their loved ones flustered and disorientated. Pretty ingenious and impressive in my opinion....but when you do something like that over and over again....a pattern shows. Targets get together. The targets decide that enough is enough....and a plan is hatched.

'I can't WAIT to get Hosty! He'll be SO surprised!'

Oliver giggled as he skipped down the corridor, hand in hand with his new best friend, a giggling, giddy zombie boy. Robbie was clinging to Oliver's hand with both of his excitedly, feeling so happy that he had such a kind and clever best friend to play with. Not only that, but Oliver would sometimes just....randomly compliment him, because that's what happens when you adore someone, the compliments just fly out.

'Yeah, yeah! Surprise Hosty!'

Oliver giggled as he looked to his friend.

'He'll probably get distracted from how cute you are!'

Robbie's eyes widened as they stopped outside the doors of the library, and the zombie boy whined with embarrassment as he softly head-butted Oli's shoulder.

'Nuuuhhh! Ou cute....'

Oliver giggled and ruffled Robbie's hair before scanning through the door excitedly. They'd been informed by Dr Schneeplestein in passing that the Host needed a hand with something, and they'd immediately jumped on the opportunity to get someone else....the fact that Dr Schneeplestein had been targeted by them earlier that day didn't make them suspicious at all. They were just too excited to notice. Oliver grinned.

'Okay....okay he's sat at his desk. As soon as he perceives us and faces us, that's our chance. Ready?'

Oliver's eyes glinted as he wiggled five of his fingers at Robbie, to which Robbie responded by wiggling five of his back happily.

'Ye!'

Robbie felt all jittery and giddy inside, if you'd felt a pulse point he would have felt nearly alive. As for Oliver, his chest core and eyes were shining bright as his circuits filled with energy, which was his adrenaline. They opened the doors....and stepped inside. They closed them and walked forward together, barely containing their grins as they saw the Host's shadowy figure standing from his chair.....he was turning to face them. Oliver and Robbie were ready, so ready....but the Host didn't face them. He spoke first, or rather.....narrated.

''Oliver and Robbie found themselves being ambushed by strong, ghostly hands. They were held in the air by their wrists, ankles, and by the backs of their t-shirts. Numerous other ghostly hands surrounded them, hovering and twitching....warningly.''

The air was filled with a series of surprised squeals and yelps as the Host's words came into reality, and by the time the Host had reached them, Oliver and Robbie were restrained just as the Host had described. They were both struggling and whimpering in their own ways, but Oliver managed to find the nerve to speak, even as he gulped.

'H-H-Host wh-what the hell?!'

Robbie let out a shaky whine as he watched the Host chuckle and sneer at them both with his arms folded at his chest.

'Did the pair of you seriously think that you would not have to endure consequences for your mischievous actions? Bim Trimmer, Dr Henrik Von Schneeplestein, Silver Shepherd, Jackie-Boy Man, and Jameson Jackson have told the Host everything. Everything.'

Oliver and Robbie both gulped and shared a nervous glance, struggling more against the ghostly hands as they realised what was coming for them. Honestly, they hadn't given a second thought to retribution...they'd figured they would be able to pout and say they were just having fun, and then they'd be let off....but they now understood that cuteness could only get them so far.

'H-Hosty....w-w-we s-sorr.....s-so-oorree....'

Robbie stuttered as his cheeks flushed a light lilac....but the Host only smirked.

'Ohhh the Host doesn't think you are, but fear not, the Host here to ensure that your apologies to each of our friends are well meant and from the heart. The Host thinks that the best way to do that is to.....go over exactly what you did to them, yes?'

Oliver and Robbie let out fearful squeaks when the hands around them suddenly became much more animated, all the while the Host calmly clasped his hands behind his back and started to slowly pace around them. His smile was subtle, but it had a truly formidable edge of mischief to it. Basically, the Host's two victims were screwed.

'N-Nonono H-H-Host w-wait let's discuss-EEEEE! Nohoho nohohoho nahahat thehehere!'

Oliver was about to try and see if he could negotiate with their captor, but he was too late. The hands had gotten to them first. Four hands. Two for Oliver's armpits, and two for Robbie's. They scratched and scratched away lightly, but fast, making their victims squeal and giggle in the most adorably high pitched voices. The Host had begun.

'Ahhh yes, Bim Trimmer was the first. It was rather early in the morning and he was hanging up a newly repaired stage light, but it seemed to be proving rather difficult for him on his own....'

As Oliver's cheeks got warmer, the little zombie's squeals echoed around the room as he thrashed about, both trying to stop the tickling AND drown out the Host's voice.

'H-H-Hohohosty shuhush Hohohosty shuhuhuhuuuush!'

The Host certainly did NOT shush, and instead spoke louder so that they would be able to hear him nice and clearly over their giddy mirth. His smile was less subtle now.

'Bim called out, hoping there would be someone nearby who would be able to lend a hand....but instead he received four. Two held his arms up whilst the other two scratched his poor hollows until he was a giggling, squealing mess. The poor man had to have a gallon of tea to soothe himself!'

The Host was almost actually starting to SOUND like Bim with how dramatic he was being with his pacing and arm gestures, as if he was reciting some great speech of Marlowe's to an audience garlanded in finery. In a way though, Robbie and Oliver had their own finery in the form of their wide smiles and bright blushes; they were the most precious to behold, especially when trying to remain strong.

'Y-Yohohou ahare ehehexahaggerating!'

Oliver defiantly called out, meanwhile Robbie was in the midst of trying to land little bites on the scratching fingers in his armpits as he giggled frantically. The Host had finished another circuit of pacing and now stood before his two victims, and he threw a smirk to Oliver as he purred.

'Why, the Host would never!'

The Host ended with a chuckle, before waving one of his hands to relinquish the armpit attack. He clasped his hands at the small of his back, sighing out through his nose happily as Oliver and Robbie giggled residually. They exchanged flustered glances when the Host started pacing around them once more, musing.

'Now who was next....?'

The Host trailed off playfully....before receiving an unexpected, giggly reply.

'N-N-Nuhuhohone!'

The Host raised an eyebrow at the giddy little zombie before him in amusement. Robbie had his head bowed with bashfulness as he whined and nibbled his bottom lip, his lilac eyes watery with cute mirth. The Host grinned as he continued pacing, whispering in Robbie's ear softly as he circled by.

'Now, now, it's naughty to lie.....ohh yes, the Host recalls now....'

Oliver's and Robbie's eyes widened when they saw a hand approaching them each, and they squeaked and let out similar high-pitched tittering when they found their waistlines being traced.

'Ohohoho noho....'

Oliver whimpered and trembled as the soft fingertips slid under his t-shirt with ease and teased his soft skin, and only became more flustered when he saw the same happening to Robbie. Then the Host continued his story re-telling.

'The good doctor Schneeplestein has a difficult, packed line of work, so thus it is imperative that he gets a good burst of energy in the mornings before he gets to his clinic. For some reason however....his coffee was a little out of reach....'

Oliver shook his head and tried to crane his neck, endeavouring to gaze imploringly at the Host whilst Robbie shook his head and tried to sound insistent.

'N-Nahahat uhus nahat uhus!'

'R-Rohobbie!'

Oliver squeaked after he heard his friend trying to deny it....he didn't want to risk the Host punishing them even more for lying about their mischief. The Host meanwhile, only found it wonderfully endearing. He snickered, and as if in sync with the Host's mirth, the delicate fingers moved from their victim's waists to the bowels of their hips. This made both Oliver and Robbie jerk about....and shriek magnificently.

'Just as the doctor murmured that he could possibly use a hand to help him retrieve his caffeine....he found himself being attacked at his poor, delicate waist and hips. Needless to say, his laughter woke up everyone else this morning.'

The Host had to work much harder to make himself heard, but it just made the whole thing more fun. The Host adored the sounds of it all. Thrashing, laughing, stammering....such exquisite cuteness.

'HOHOHOSTY PWEHEASE H-HOHOSTY NAHAT THEHERE!'

Robbie cried, the zombie still in awe that the quite man was being such a teasy meanie! Robbie was just a poor mess right now. His normally messy hair was past the realms of unkemptness and nearly covered his eyes, all the while his face shone....purple; a legitimate purple. The Host tilted his head up at the zombie with a playful grin.

'Oh no, the Host assures Robbie that that's where the doctor was tickled. The doctor was very specific in his descriptions-'

'YOHOHOU SAHAHARCASTIHIC SHIHIHIZZ!'

The Host paused. Now this WAS a rare occurrence. The Host had been cut off in the middle of speaking.....how....very....rude. On top of that, he'd been cut off by someone who was usually oh so mild-mannered and sweet; the Host felt happy that he was bringing out the sass in little Oliver. However, such rudeness was NOT going to go unpunished. The Host's head snapped to Oliver, making the little droid gulp fearfully.

'That wasn't very pleasant Oliver.'

Oliver knew that as soon as he'd cut Host off he'd made a grave mistake....but nothing could have prepared him for the retribution. The droid's eyes widened when he felt one of his hipbones being kneaded.....kneaded.

'AAHAHAHA OHOHOLI WHYYYY??!!'

Oliver looked to Robbie in shock, gasping in realisation through his own laughter as Robbie's wails caught his attention.....the Host had decided to punish Robbie too, even though he wasn't sassy along with Oliver....this was what true evil looked like. Oliver cried out as he arched his back sharply, mouth and eyes wide as he looked between Robbie and the Host helplessly.

'AHHHHHI'MSORRYROBBIEI'MSORRYHOSTY NAHAHAHHHH!!'

The Host chuckled softly, humming playfully in the wake of Oliver's sweet apologies.

'HOHOHOOOOST C'MAHAHAAAN!!'

If the Host could have rolled his eyes with affection, then he would have. He settled for a stream of chuckles as he snapped his fingers, allowing for Oliver and Robbie to have a little mercy.

'Ahalright, the Host believes Oliver....goodness, the Host never knew that pacing could be such a workout....'

The Host grinned and turned his back on his captives for a moment, but only so that he could pull up his armchair before them and sink down into it with a satisfied smile. As the Host got himself comfortable....the looks that Oliver and Robbie shared had....changed somewhat. They were happy....because....well, being treated so playfully was rather fun for them....they didn't dislike the situation that they were in. Not only that, but they could both tell that the other was somewhat eager to find out what the Host would have in store for them. They both looked to the Host with soft smiles and tittering voices as the Host laced his fingers together in his lap.

'Speaking of workouts....'

.....Oliver knew what was coming next. Oliver remembered. Ohhh no...oh no oh no oh no. The little android started getting giggly, which ended up making Robbie giggly too as they both squirmed giddily; they didn't have it in them to be defiant anymore, only cuteness remained.

'N-N-Nohoho w-w-wahahait h-hahang ohohon-'

'Why should the Host do that? If anything, waiting would merely make the anticipatory butterflies on Oliver and Robbie's bellies so much worse.'

The Host cut Oliver off, and smirked with satisfaction at the squeaks he received when he mentioned Oliver and Robbie's soft, trembling....vulnerable, bellies. The Host sunk into his armchair more as Oliver and Robbie subconsciously sucked in their tummies....which would not serve to save them from the Host's next assault.

'Now with workouts, personally the Host admires whoever dedicates themselves to such endeavours of fitness. Especially when it comes to Silver Shepherd and Jackie-Boy Man, who have their routines doing pull ups together so they can motivate one another....'

Oliver and Robbie saw that a hand was approaching them each, and approaching them slowly. Oliver felt himself blushing as subtly twitching fingers came closer and closer to his abdomen, whilst Robbie was just whining and giggling already; the anticipation was already tickle inducing. The Host liked a slow approach, it did wonderful things to the nerves. The Host purred under his breath to make the hands slip under their t-shirts and rest on their bare tummies, and he smirked when they both tensed and squeaked with practically perfect synchronicity. The Host next words came slowly too, like his magical manipulations. He drawled out each word and every syllable.

'On this occasion though, both of them were a little tired. However, they were determined to meet their targets and mused to one another about calling for someone to help motivate them....and guess who answered their call?'

And here we see one of the Host's many tickle tropes; a teasy, rhetorical question. In combination with another tactic which was to persist gently so that the true attack would unexpected and more intense, and it certainly worked. Oliver and Robbie in fact let out quite shrill screams when those calm hands suddenly dug into their tummies.

'FRIHIHIHIHIHIIIICK!'

Oliver exclaimed, which caused the Host to muse.

'Mmm, not quite. Namely, it was the pair of you. Ruthlessly targeting their poor abdominals whilst you used a spare hand each to help keep them hanging from their pull-up poles. Truly evil....'

The Host shook his head and tutted in a reprimanding fashion, all the while his poor victims begged and begged and begged....and were rather rude.

'AAAHHHAHAHA POHOHOHOOPY POHOHOHOOOOPYYY!!'

The usually mild-mannered Robbie was the one who shrieked those filthy words as he laughed and quivered, his soft tummy was a wonderful weakness it seemed. Now, we all know that the word poopy is as far from swearing as you can probably get, Robbie knew that, Oliver knew that, and the Host certainly knew that....except....it wasn't exactly a NICE word either. Since it wasn't a nice word, this led Host to the conclusion that Robbie....was a rude, rude boy.

'Goodness, the Host was not aware that Robbie knew such foul language....he supposed that Oliver was being a devious influence....'

The Host crooned, and at first Oliver and Robbie sighed in relief at the fact that they weren't getting additional punishment....but Oliver ended up blushing bright at the Host's ending words. Oliver cried out, filled with the most indignation that it was probably possible to feel in one moment.

'IHIHIHI CAHAHAN'T SWEHEHEAR YOHOHOU MAHAHATCHFIHIDGET!!'

.....now the laughter of Oliver and Robbie was not the only laughter in the room. The Host was able to predict many things, but the results of Oliver's censoring module was not one of them, and he loved it. He clapped his hands together in amusement as the droid blushed even harder, still laughing with his comrade as their struggles started getting weaker. They both moved in sync again, trying to hide their flustered faces in the wrists or forearms or elbows or biceps, and the Host figured it was time for another instance of mercy.

'Ahhh of course, it must have slipped the Host's mind....'

Oliver and Robbie gasped as the hands crawled out from their t-shirts, drifting away as they trembled and whined. They looked to each other, wanting nothing more than to be able to fall into each other's arms and rub each other's ghost tickles away. The Host could feel it, and his heart utterly melted, it was like they were pining for each other's friendly comfort....and the Host knew they would have it soon, very soon. Now....it was time for the final act of retribution.

'How sweet you both are.....just like another that the Host is sure you both know. Dear little Jamie....'

The Host purred gently, and as Oliver and Robbie looked to the Host, they felt a mixture of emotions. Nervousness, because they knew what tickling came next....but also relief, because they knew that Jamie was the last person they'd managed to have their fun with. They gulped when they felt hands on their shins bending their legs, so they were hovering in kneeling positions as their feet faced sole up behind them. The Host continued.

'The poor thing had misplaced his monocle, until he noticed it gleaming far underneath his bed, and thus he dove under to retrieve it. And retrieve it he did....but then he discovered himself to be stuck. What a bother! Plus, with no socks on, his exposed feet started getting chilly....'

Oliver and Robbie squeaked when they felt their socks being pulled off, their feet wiggling and scrunching in anticipation as they gazed at the Host with utter desperation.

'Plehease....H-H-Hohost plehease no mohore....'

'W-W-Wehe s-sorry!'

'Wehe are w-w-we're s-so sorry!'

'P-P-Pweh-EEEEEEEEK!'

The Host snickered at their frantic back and forth begs, and particularly at Robbie's squeal. There was one hand per foot, and each foot had five blunt nails dragging up and down it at a ceaseless, tickly pace.

'Apologies, the Host wasn't quite listening, what did you both say?'

Neither of them could handle their feet being tickled, even if it was gentle it was just pure torture for them. Robbie's laughter was filled with uncontrolled snarls, whilst Oliver's were filled with voice crackles and adorable, metallic hiccups. Either way, they were both hysterical.

'NAHAHAT OHOHOUR FEHEHEHEHEEEET!!!'

Oliver screamed, with Robbie soon following suit, teary eyed as he tried his best to ignore the scrapes at his delicate inner arches.

'WEHEHEHE SAHAHAHAWWYYYY!!!'

The Host raised an eyebrow, humming as he fiddled and played with the tassles of his armchair with one hand. With his other hand, he cupped one of his ears, calling out with a playful smile....or was it sadistic...ah well, same thing in this context really.

'Say that again?'

The Host's lips spread into a smirk when the air around him was filled with intense cries and babbles.

'PLEHEHEHEASE NOHOHO MOHOHORE!!!'

'WEHEHEHE SOHOHO SAHAWWY!!'

'YEHEHEHEEES SOSOSOSO SOHOHO SOHOHORRY!!!'

Oliver and Robbie were pretty much on the verge of tears, but then it all stopped. The Host waved his hands, making all the ghostly hands disappear, apart from the ones holding Oliver and Robbie aloft. He made the hands carefully cradle the two recovering boys and set them down on the carpet gently, before the Host swept forth and opened his arms, his smile was kind.

'Come here.....come....it is alright....'

Oliver and Robbie had clung to each other almost instantly after being released, and now they crawled forwards hastily into the Host's arms, both whining for warmth at affection. With those wide lilac eyes and shining golden orbs staring up at him, how could the Host NOT care for them?! He brought them to his chest and wiped their tears away, kissing their foreheads and rubbing their backs as soft, whispered words of praise left his lips, Soon, Oliver and Robbie were both smiling and eagerly snuggling, holding each other's hands. Robbie was the first to whisper back to the Host.

'F-F-Forgiven?'

Robbie nibbled his bottom lip softly with nervousness, and the Host immediately kissed his temple warmly as he crooned.

'Everyone forgives you both, in fact, they all told the Host that they were very impressed at your brave cheekiness....'

He ruffled Robbie's hair whilst giving Oliver's shoulder a gentle nudge, making them both giggle happily. Then the Host realised something....he was trapped on the floor in their cuddles now. He cleared his throat softly.

'Ah, Oliver....what is the probability of the Host being released from these cuddles?'

Oliver grinned and hummed, sharing a look with a smirking Robbie, before replying.

'Approximately.....zero.'

The Host pursed his lips, and repressed a bashful laugh when their embraces tightened and Robbie growled into his chest.

'Our Hosty forever!'

The Host sighed out through his nose, before musing and holding them closer.

'Well, there are worse prisons.'

And so for the eternity of about a few hours, the Host remained trapped in the clutches of the most affectionate, warm beings on the entire planet. So, all in all, it was one of the best days ever.

WOOOOPPP DONE AND DONE HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE IT LEMME KNOW IF YA DOOOO WOOOO LUV YOUS XX

[ocevala]

Misunderstood || a Cayde/Ikora Angst

First off, before we start this, why don't ya vote it up on Wattpad first? https://my.w.tt/iO9GrLri80

(Words: Approximately 3,000)

Psst-- you can skip the summary if you need to ⬇️⬇️⬇️

Summary: The Hunter misunderstood many things in his life, he misunderstood the intentions of the vanguard's tactics and values, the way he would be the most eager to leave this hell, but instead they'd send the Titan who would much rather guard his lion den. Most times his partners were astray from him, Zavala talked too much about his Titans, but was pretty average.

But then there was Ikora, her eyes were cold and deadbeat, like a deep lavender color with a grey undertone, they used to be alive, but they were aged. She was cold to him now it's like her quick glances were glares that punctured his confidence, and even the littlest noises she'd make at his failures would kill him on the inside. It was as if she had this power that crumbled people's spirits.

In her defense, she never knew she was this cold, she was merely being was she was told to be. A strong poised warlock, who needed to keep her eyes on her sworn duty. But in other's eyes she was just another scary leader, the mentor people whispered about behind her back. Then at the same time, she knew about this, and she shamed herself for it, compared herself to a monster. She couldn't stand herself for of it. She knew she wasn't taught all too well, especially when it all came from a Warlock with an ego.

This is just a single one shot about two Vanguards, two Stories, but the same problems.

———

About a decade ago, he was made hunter vanguard, but even today, he never knew his purpose, he couldn't take anything along the lines of work seriously, no missions were matched for him, and he watched as his partners, Zavala and Ikora shred through hundreds of thousands of monsters.

While he was merely on the outside. He hated being trapped in here, he wished that once in a while he could join, but the request was ignored.

He was degraded and selfish, he knew Zavala thought so. But Ikora definitely did.

He knew because of the way Ikora would glare at him, and tear him down with a gaze that was truly cold. By emotionally manipulating him with her scoffs at his every foolish movement, and imprisoning him with her utter silence. The only times she'd actually spoken to him it was on dispatch details, and boring vanguard discussions.

He was merely a waste of space and time in their eyes.

No. Half of that wasn't true.

Infact it was one-sided love, Ikora was quite fond of him.

Ikora was a close inspector, so she couldn't help but pay attention to Cayde's subtle expressions, it was like a sixth sense that allowed her to read his body language like a book, the way his feet consistentantly tapped on the ground, and the way his fingers pulsed around his knife, aching to leave this damned place.

Ikora, she adored him, truly adored him, through the glares and the stoic expressions, and the parts of her that would look and scoff, there was another part of her that wanted to smile and laugh with him, she was a lovesick warlock who wrestled with the lovelorn hunter.

She never knew how to communicate her true feelings after Osiris changed her, turned her into a warlock with the mentality of steel, but that rubbed off on her. She was locked up and stuck with lips that never twitched from it's perfect straight line, and eyes so cold, they gave victims of her stare self consciousness. Her dull amethyst eyes were emotionless, and she'd never known. Often, she stood there in confusion, as her eyes would trail to a group of guardians, only for them to meet her eyes, and immediately part ways.

They were scared of being scolded. They'd never get scolded. Not for speaking and discussing mission details.

The kids would laugh and play, one kid will kick the ball too far, and it'd roll over and hit the balls of her feet. She listens as from behind her, a child would muster an, "Excuse me ma'am..." The warlock vanguard turns around, and picks the ball up, making her way over to the children. She would try to give a smile, bit her lips only twitched slightly, and she didn't smile, so she watched in a stoic manner as the children would stare into her nulled mulberry eyes, frozen in fear as they snatch the ball and run the other way.

At home, she sat and thought about it in her comfortable little arm chair, her elbows propped on the sides, and her fingers grazing her chin in thought. It wasn't long before she cracked, and a whimper sounded from the silent room, her lips quivered and tears danced it's way down her cheek, when she first shed a tear, it was in melancholy, because it was the day she realized even the children feared her eyes. She sobbed at that thought, infact she sobbed so hard she gasped for air. She was embarrassed of herself, she cried like a little girl who'd been hit, or one who saw the warlock vanguard; a monster. And she was a monster.

The aftermath of her sobfest, was her laid half conscious on the floor, drawing deep breaths. Tired and exhausted from the tears that non-stop dribbled down her face.

But after a brief moment of bathing in her thoughts, she smiled, then chuckled, chuckled dryly until her puffy eyes were allowing more tears to drop from her cheeks.

It's so funny.

It's funny that on that day, she realized there was still a heart lurking in there somewhere, only because she cried, she was vulnerable, a weight was lifted off of her shoulders.

~~~

Cayde was sorting out little maps, holding his head in frustration, clenching his teeth and scribbling wildly on the digital maps displayed on tablets, piled high on the desk where certain loot caches hid.

"Cayde." He heard a deep and smooth voice call his name, as she trailed herself around the little long table, he jumped, and looked up to face the speaker, there stood Ikora, who called his name without looking.

"Is there something wrong?" She asked mono-toned, and her eyes trail up to his face. There was that look in her eyes again, that look that would kill, and it was not a compliment, they killed his spirits.

"Oh, it's nothin'. Just not feeling too well today, y'know?" He simply states, and watches as her brows twitch, and she nods before she's consumed by her books once again.

Ten years he'd stayed cooped up in the tower like this, and Ikora never changed, he remembered when she was younger, more honest and true to her words, her pure anger that seemed to be less intimidating than now day's calm and conserved personality to him was quite ridiculous, hell, he remembered he even crushed hard on her.

But, Those days were over and done with.

And he missed it. He thought that sooner or later, that stoic attitude would change. That she would become more comfortable and her demeanour would change. It never did. He hated it. Just as much as he now hated her.

Quickly, he realized the thought that scavenged in his head, he didn't know what was up with him as soon as he'd thought that. He frowned to himself, and traced a gaze up to her face. Hate? Hate was a strong word. "Is there something on my face?" She spoke, eyes still fixed on her book, It took no longer than a second for the Warlock to notice his eyes locked on her face.

"No."

"Then, please, stop staring." A sigh left his lips, and he pulled away from the table.

"I'm going to go take a breather." He sighs, before leaving the little hall, when he got out of the little disclosed place, he made his way to the speakers study, where a little vent to his favorite place lied.

The hunter crawled through piles of faction crates, shaders, silver, and books before he was greeted by the little slitted vents. Quietly, he removes it from the front of the little crawl space supposedly on the other side, and propped himself on his elbows and knees.

As the vanguard slithered his body through the gap that barely provided room, his eyes scanned over the many empty custodial rooms, that, soon he began to pass by, most of them not being his private spaces.

Finally, he looked down to greet the warm coffee colored room he was most accustomed with, a purple carpet he rolled out himself, a couch, which already existed before he found the room alongside the desk filled with ramen crates, and little ace cards.

He swiftly plucked the broken screws off one by one, before shoving the vent off, his face scrunched up as the vent so loudly hit the hardwood floor that hadn't been covered by the carpet. He guaranteed he'd be caught at some point, but for now, he was safe.

His eyes scanned the room proudly, eyes glazing over the rest of the furniture and decor in the room, maps were pinned up by tacks, prototypes for his class gear laid scattered for modification, his delicate dishes and relics placed inside the conveniently sized sink, he fished his pot from the water, in which he'd already washed, and filled it with water.

Calmly, he moved to place his little pot of water on the makeshift stove top to boil up instant noodles. And then plopped himself onto the couch.

He sat in silence, in that moment took the time to ponder, ponder about the life he didn't so happily live.

"Hm." A noise came from the darker corner of the room, a hum of examination. God dammit! could he ever get some peace?

He whipped his heard around, raising an eyebrow, and the person he wanted to escape from happened to be there. "What are you doing here? Shoo!" He waved her away, but neither did the Warlock's expression or body falter.

Cayde stood up, and Ikora stepped forward. Taking this as a chance to speak to him privately, "You've been off lately. And I've taken a notice that it seems you loathe me. Could we take some time and discuss it?" Ikora calmly asks.

"Okay, I have a reason, so you better listen, and real closely as well. Honestly, there's something wrong with you, and Zavala, or the vanguard as a whole, it feels like the damned system is corrupted. You look at me like I don't belong here. As if I'm lower than you, then there's Zavala who quietly suspects me for half of the things I do. Also have you understood how long I've been wanting to leave this tower? They let the both of you leave, but not me?" He spat, watching as she recoiled at the sudden bitterness in his tone.

What? No. None of that was true, she'd never think of him that way, he was helpful, a kind old soul, with exceptional humor. Zavala thought so as well, the vanguard wasn't a corrupt system, the tower was only afraid of losing their next hunter vanguard so early.

"I think you've misunder-"

"You think I misunderstood? How the hell are you going to explain the glares, it feels like they throw me into my place, a low class hunter," He scoffs, "Gosh, I wish a was a low class hunter, so I could get the hell out of this joint. Then there's the murmuring sounds of disappointment and your dissatisfaction, even if I just make the littlest mistake, your eyes are following me. Swearing at me. Then there's Zavala asking me all of these questions, and boring his eyes into the little horn in the center of my head."

"And you think I've misunderstood?" Cayde finishes off, before muttering under his breath "Asshole." That broke her, again, she didn't know why, but all of her bottled up emotions, hidden by a hallowed facade poured out.

She slid down to her knees, at first her fingers curled around the arm of his sofa, covering her eyes and rubbing away the little tears that threatened to roll down.

That's when Cayde began to inch for the door, but he stopped when he heard a hic. His head turned slightly, and he watched as the warlock slowly crumbled. Eventually her hiccups turned into cries, which faded into sobs, obnoxious sobs until she couldn't breathe, until they were low throaty ones, and she hadn't realized.

At first he thought he made her cry, and slowly, he felt guilt climbing up his back.

But then he remembered that the Warlock Vanguard was never this weak.

He watched with a frown as her shoulders sank, and her body folded, until she was fully pressed to the floor, and the rest of what she could breathe out were hacks up to the point she gasped for more air. She felt like an idiot, this was probably the most vulnerable anyone had seen her, by a long shot.

She watched as Cayde's head turned to her, staring, awkward and stiff, before it whirled back around, slowly. Then he left the room in a hesitant manner.

He felt weird, not being able to withstand the sudden burst of tears. So he removed himself. He left through the door that was unlocked through the inside.

Cayde stumbled out of the door and closed it, expecting for her sobs to be purged by the closed doors, but it wasn't, he cringed at Ikora's loud cries out that echoed through the dead hallway, like a horror movie, he watched as rats scurried about the hall under the dim spotlights, as cob webs decorated the walls in a disgusting way.

What ever was the matter with her, he wanted her to feel his pain. Being left alone to sob and so she could attempt to untangle herself.

He knew Ikora couldn't keep her composure, she probably never experienced real emotion like this. But that thought cleared when her gasps for air died down, he turned to the door down the hall in confusion, he paused. Nothing. That gave him goosebumps.

He never knew that the both of them dealt with the same issues from the start. Misunderstood, judged, feared. When he was greeted by the familiar lights of the Speaker's study or grand door that lied before the Speaker's study, he pushed open the large doors to finally enter the right wing of the tower, that's when he took a left and climbed up the stairs, trailing past the little patches of grass on the floor near the landing zone, his feet trailed down the steps, and stopped just before the grand table.

He noticed the way Zavala's eyes trailed up to him, his look displaying confusion. "Where is Ikora?" He questioned raising an catapillar size eyebrow.

He left it off with a shrug, before approaching the table. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as Zavala eyed him.

Zavala eyed him the whole time he leaned over, resting his elbows on the table to finally finish each coordinate.

And as he carefully marked up the papers, for what'd almost been thirty minutes. "Cayde, are you sure you don't know where she is...?" Zavala finally said with high suspicions, after staring at him, and mentally interrogating him.

Cayde drew a sigh, his pencil darting across the papers, one side, to the other. Finally, dropping the pencil, he looked up. "I might know." He spoke those three words only, before turning around, and leaving the hallway, Zavala's mouth opened, as if he were about to say something, but he stayed quiet, assuming that was just Cayde saying he'd check.

Cayde, finally ascended the stairs, inhaling the fresh air. And made his way to the location he only left 30 minutes ago.

Ikora propped herself on the chair, covering her face, rubbing her puffy eyes, she inhaled the bitter smell of smoke that blanketed the air, the water in his pot completely boiled dry and evaporated, and the pot was on the verge of being damaged.

The stench was giving her a headache, but she sat idle, eyes shielded, and her lips quivering. She needed the moment of silence, but that ended when she heard the clattering in the vents, she removed her arms from her face, lips straightening, and her eyes absent of tears.

It was as if she wasn't sulking the 2 seconds before she'd transitioned. There was a thump on the ground, and she felt a pair of eyes on her through the foggy smoke.

She sat quietly and idle, "Ikora." A familiar robotic voice called. He couldn't help but cough, as he grabbed the pot and placed it outside the little door, his systems rendering to filter the air.

"Ikora... There's something wrong with me and-"

"There is something wrong with me as well." She carefully spoke, her silhouette was carefully carved through the fog of the smoke that remained as she kept her composure. "Everything before Osiris, were lighter times. Now, I wouldn't like to speak badly of him, but he made me feel I was flawed."

She bit her lip, remembering the time that Osiris told her everything, she was cursed with his knowledge, she was told to stand up straight and never falter, to know her place, and use her mind. On top of that, never smile.

So she did follow, precariously infact; uncertain of how to do so. And she became a mess. She earned respect only because they feared her power.

But when Osiris had done the same, there were ecstatic followers behind him.

"I changed for my own good. But now that I wish to change back, I can't. I'm stuck, I truly couldn't smile without crying first." She continued, and he stared into her dead eyes, that was still cloaked by the smoke, and bloodshot red from the chemicals that bounced along the walls, but her irises were a deep forest of violet, with an undertone of grey.

His eyes rendered and adjusted, noticing how they were coated with tears. "Listen, I lugged through these halls with the mindset that everyone hated me. But mostly you." He sighed, hands holding his face in his hands.

"I thought the feeling was mutual. Well, given the fact your eyes never ceased to change." Then he finally looked at her, eyeing her quivering lips, "But the point is, I'm not okay."

Her arms rose to curl her fingers around his wrist. "I'm not okay either." She whispered, her hand was positioned so that her thumb stroked the palm of his hands, gloved with rough material.

She leans her head on his shoulder, noticing the way his shoulders more prominently rise and fall at their contact.

"Ikora..?" Cayde calls to her, her head rises from his shoulder. A gentle hum in acknowledgement slices the air as her head turns to him. "Forgive me for this..." He speaks low, and suddenly her lips are pressed against his plates, and her body is pushed up against his chest.

It was a kiss to reassure her, his eyes were wide open, as were hers, before she discovered the way his hands traced circles on her back, and both their eyes shut, she tasted the salt on her lips, and she then noticed her eyes were leaking with tears.

The fog that coated the air added much more tension. Soon, Ikora paid attention to how his body began to dominate hers, his unoccupied fingers tracing up to her thighs and massaging them, so she believed it was best to pull away, so they wouldn't be carried away, but even after that, she was unable to bring herself to look him in the eyes.

She clears her throat, fists braced on the couch to push herself from under him, her posture straightens, "Thank you for talking to you about this." She carefully speaks, Cayde nodded before saying,

"Y'know, I misunderstood this...."

"No you didn-"

"Yes I did. All of it. Your intentions, Zavala's intentions, I was so caught on the theory that the both of you were trying to isolate me.." Cayde spoke softly, "But it was the other way around."

"So you weren't speaking on the kissing?" Ikora asks slowly. Cayde quickly shakes his head.

"Unless I did... Misunderstand..." His voice trails off.

"No... No you didn't."

[honeyartz]

Is your 2p France a spicy murder boy? What’s the idea of him?

All of my designs are and will play part of a role in the whole thriller / horror fiasco. So yes, my version of 2p France plays a role as a murderer but he doesn’t go off on a killing spree like Olivander does. Louis is more lowkey in what he does.

The idea for him was that he would be sorta like a hired hitman behind the dark web, if that makes sense? He doesn’t really care much about the whole idea for murder but if there’s money involved then he’d be willing to do it, business means business ya know? 

One of the things he would do is he would go to normal and casual places like bars, libraries, just any social type of gatherings and whoever’s attention is on him, they would be considered a victim. One of the main ways how he lures his victims in is either sex as a tactic or if the two are in his own home and they drink there Louis would spike the drink and drug the other until they’re unconscious. That would be the perfect opportunity for him to drag the body in one of his secret rooms that’s located underneath his own home. So on from there, once the victim wakes up and realizes that they’re either tied to a chair or even strapped down to a table, camera facing them along with a laptop next to it  then that’s where the torture begins. Also, sometimes with the other allies around, Olivander is usually the man who goes to Louis and offers some cash if he could dispose some of the victims he used for his baking ( which I’ll explain that in another post if y’all are interested in knowing what Oli does. )  

[yafaemi-but-gone-fishing]

| the spookiest night of the year

Summary: tonight is important for two reasons, and Aurora is intent on making sure that it’s enjoyed to the fullest. Everyone else is in for the ride, whether they want to be or not. :) 

________________________________________________________________

The knock on the door was the first sign that the night was not going to be as peaceful as Oliver was hoping for. 

Actually opening it was the confirmation. And when he nearly jumped out of his skin at the sight of Aurora jumping out from the hidden side of the balcony, caked in what looked like blood and decked in tattered robes. “By the gods, Rory, what is wrong with you!?” 

She cackled. Not even a laugh, it was a full on cackle. “Come on, it’s All Saints Wake! This is the perfect time to scare your friends out of their wits! Gods, that face you made was priceless, Oli! I’ve never heard you yell that loud before!” Doubled over into herself, odd eyes nearly crossing in her unending laughter. 

“By the Fury, I could hear you all the way from the other side of the house. What seems to the--” Amandine stopped dead in her tracks, halfway in the hall. Oliver ignored the stifled snicker she made when she spotted Aurora. “I see.” 

It took several moments for Aurora to compose herself well enough to even speak. Let alone anything else. She wiped away a tear carefully, making sure not to disturb the fake blood saturating her face. Then, with a passably serious expression, she looked up again. 

“We have two things we’re doing tonight,” she explained with a grin, brushing past Oliver into the house. He followed after her silently, letting out a shaky breath as he closed the door, “Scaring random people that are walking around somewhere dark, and celebrating Miyuki’s nameday.” 

“...Pardon?” 

“Wait, how did you even find out what his nameday was?” 

Aurora waved a dismissive hand, saying, “He mentioned something about it earlier to me, when I asked if he was free tonight. He’ll be here in a half hour, I think he said. I gave him directions. Hope you don’t mind.” 

For some reason, it appeared as though whether or not Amandine did was irrelevant. Given the fact that Miyuki was already on the way to begin with, anyways. There was no way to retroactively take the information back, unless she hit him over the head and gave him amnesia.

She shrugged halfheartedly, “I suppose I can let this pass.”

“Awesome. Ok, so, we need to get you guys some costumes.” When neither Oliver or Amandine replied, Aurora gestured to herself with a pleased grin. “I’ve got mine, and Miyuki already dresses like a voidsent trying to pass as a mortal, anyways. Do you guys have any, like… ruined bedsheets, or something? Oliver’d make a good ghost, so that’s his costume already set up.” 

Of all the things that could have happened tonight… this was probably not even the worst. Not by a long shot. Scaring people and dragging along someone who was barely even their acquaintance, at that point? What was it about All Saints wake that always made Aurora so intent on causing trouble? 

“I was a ghost the last year we spent in Radz-at-Han, though, Rory. That would just be unoriginal, now.” 

He’d known her for too long to bother questioning it, even if it was a bad idea. If you can’t understand them, join them, or whatever it was people always said. 

“Hmmm. Bat, maybe? I don’t think we’ve dressed up as bats in ages.” 

“If we might pause for a moment,” Amandine interrupted them, causing the attention in the room to stop short of actual costume making, “What exactly is going on here? I seem to have lost track of the conversation.” 

The way that Aurora sighed made it seem like she was inconvenienced by this. The slightest hint of Amandine’s violet eyes rolling to the back of her head made Oliver shrug in mute sympathy. “We’re trying to think of Oliver’s costume, so that we can go out and scare people.” 

“Very well. However, if I might ask another question: why?” 

“Why not?” 

That seemed to make Amandine sigh. She crossed her arms, “Why do you think, Aurora? This is not exactly your everyday spontaneous decision.”

Technically, she was right. Though technicality was likely one of the things Aurora paid the least attention to in her decisions. It was a fun idea, something to do, and celebrated two events in one sitting. In summary, an absolutely perfect way to spend the night. 

Whether or not everyone else agreed could be considered later. Besides, they would come around eventually. Likely in the far future, where the night's events would be a hilarious story that ended in chaos. 

At least they were fun nights. “Believe me, Mandi, this is more or less normal for Rory. I thought you knew that already,” Oliver said with a shrug. Then with a small grin, “Plus, the last time we did this, we all went to the Bismarck and got the sandwich platter.” 

“Ooooh, I remember that!” Aurora turned to him, giving him a light shove as she nodded. The grin was splitting through her makeup. “Gods, those pirates were something else, weren’t they?” 

Amandine looked suddenly less impressed, but at least a hint amused. “Halone forgive me for this. I’ll follow along with whatever insane plan you have brewed for tonight, Aurora. But I swear, if we end up gallivanting with pirates, I am leaving. With or without you, Oliver,” she added. The attempt to sound stern failed quite miserably when the teasing smile broke onto her face. 

“Good!” Aurora clapped her hands together, grin only getting wider. Oliver smiled despite himself, watching as Amandine rolled her eyes once more with a smile of her own. “You won’t regret this, I promise. Go and find something suitably spooky to put on, alright? Or just, like… dark. Maybe you could be like a voidsent’s mistress, or something?” 

Half a chuckle escaped her lips, and she turned down the hall, saying, “Mhach itself will bow down to my otherworldly charms.” 

“That’s the spirit!” 

________________________________________________________________

Miyuki had arrived while Amandine was preparing. 

“You actually came!” Aurora bounced up from the couch the second Miyuki entered the living room, followed closely by Oliver. Looking as unenthusiastic as ever. “Thanks a lot, Yuki. I mean it, this is going to be awesome.” 

“Miyuki,” he corrected with a single righting of his glasses. “It’s Miyuki.”

“Uh huh.” Aurora ignored him, more or less. As she usually did. “Amandine’ll… probably be out in a minute. She’s getting ready. I think. Or she just climbed out of a window to avoid having to go with us.” She shrugged, then glanced towards the doorless entrance that went out into the main hall again. 

Miyuki brushed his dark hair to the side, then nodded once. “I envy her. Really, I do.” 

“Hey, this is your nameday we’re celebrating, here. What’s the fun if it’s not with the old man himself?” 

“Aurora, I’m literally three years younger than you are. I’m not old in the slightest.” 

It took half a moment for her to respond. Aurora squinted her eyes at him, raised an eyebrow, then said, “...You’re only 21? Gods, I thought you were older. You act like it, anyways.” 

Oliver blinked. “Ya… I didn’t think I was older than you. Only by a year, but… that’s cool! Happy nameday anyways, Miyuki.” He didn’t mention the confusion on the fact that Miyuki’s hair was definitely longer the last time they’d spoken. 

“You don’t act your age either. We’re even.” 

Aurora snorted. “Hey, I act my age. When I have to. Otherwise, what’s the point in always being serious other than boring yourself to sleep?” Something caught her eye behind Miyuki, from the way she paused. And the second after when she went to speak, her voice seemed to fade away, leaving them only with a weak, “...Oh. Wow.” 

Amandine had, apparently, returned. Decked in a long, flowing black coat, with silver engravings running down the entirety of it. There was a running slit that went up her leg, stopping midway up her thigh. “I pray this isn’t too formal for your ridiculous antics? I wanted to play the part.” 

“No, that’s… that’s cool. You look really nice.” Aurora swallowed, then finally scooted her eyes from the long slit in the dress. She got up, stretched, and then smiled at the group, “...So, are we ready to go now? We’ve got a long night ahead of us.” 

Oliver nodded once. He’d slipped into something suitably bat-like in the time that Amandine had been preparing, and Miyuki arriving. At least, he hoped it was suitably bat-like. Aurora’d given him a thumbs up about it, if nothing else.

“I’m leaving you to your fates if this gets us into trouble with the authorities,” Miyuki remarked, moving his small braid to the side of his shoulder. He ran a hand over it, then let it drop back. “I’m not getting arrested on my nameday.” 

There was a snicker from Amandine. “Well, I suppose since Miyuki has taken what my witty reply would have been, I’m prepared as well.”

“Good. Then let’s get out there, and make this an All Saints Wake-- and nameday, too-- that we won’t forget!” 

________________________________________________________________

They’d developed a very good system, for scaring people. 

Aurora would most often be the first one to jump out, being that she looked the most like a zombie that had wandered into a city. Often followed by Miyuki, who would then apologize for his minion’s inability to control herself. Even if his lack of utter enthusiasm often made the joke fall slightly more flat than intended. 

And the fact that Aurora would break into laughter far too easily at the unsettled faces of the victims. 

Then again, that was until one rather interesting scare. 

“...at which point, the cast would be far easier to use lightning aspected aether. Yet that is simply easier said than done, unless you’re in a place highly saturated with it,” Amandine explained, with a simple shrug. She and Oliver were settled comfortably behind a bush, in a rather empty spot in Gridania. Their turn to scare a few people had come and gone once more, of which she was most grateful. 

“I think I understand what you mean. I guess some magic is just sort of impossible to cast without like… a focus? Is that what you call them? Or just… something that has what you need…?”

“There are various ways to call such things. Though, your best bets are--”

She was cut off by thundering footsteps, and Miyuki suddenly bursting through the bush. Slightly out of breath, by the long pause he took before even regarding them. Oliver and Amandine looked up with surprised expressions as he gathered his breath, and said, “Aurora is in trouble.” 

Without another word, Oliver was up and leaping through the bush. It sounded like Amandine was on his heel, yet he hardly bothered to glance back.  

He hardly took the chance to even slow down from a reckless half-sprint until Aurora came into view enough to discern what was happening. From the seem of it, she was… hardly in any danger to begin with. Simply standing there, and with what looked like a slowly forming grin. 

Miyuki walked right past both he and Amandine, then went to stand by Aurora. He looked at her, then to Amandine and Oliver, then-- in the most surprising twist of the night, in Oliver’s own opinion-- smiled. 

...And right then and there, it hit Oliver what had just happened. “...Rory, are you actually serious?” 

Then Amandine’s voice cut in, cold as ice. “Aurora Rivers, if the Twelve do not strike you down someday, I swear I will do it myself.” 

Aurora nearly screamed out in sudden bouts of laughter. Nearly falling over, one hand going to catch herself on Miyuki’s shoulder as he let out a soft snicker. Though, he did brush her hand off. “Seven hells, that couldn’t have been any better!” She let out a gasp, nearly tripped on her own feet, and righted again. It was the front door all over again, suddenly. Oliver crossed his arms. “Hah, give me a second... that was too good!”

“You tricked us!” 

“And you seriously fell for it!” Aurora let out another laugh, this time falling over onto the ground. “...Seriously, you should’ve seen the looks on your faces! That was too good!” There was a moment of silence, and she finally sat herself up, pushing a mess of black hair out of her face. Some of the strands were still stuck into the makeup. “Ok, to be fair, that... “ she took another pause to breathe, “That was Miyuki’s idea.” 

He shrugged at the collective glares from them both, the smile going a hint smug. “You’re all terrible influences. Your glaring has no effect on me.” 

Aurora got herself up, brushed off her tattered clothes, and did a half-hopping skip over to Oliver and Amandine. She caught Oliver in a hug, still stifling down giggles as he only let out a long-suffering sigh. “Aw, c’mon, at least admit it’s sort of funny! You’re gonna make me feel bad.” 

“I’ll admit it when I’m not upset. Does that work?”

With a slightly more soft laugh, Aurora shrugged, “That’s fair. And, well… I think Amandine’s planning my death now, so I’m not going to try and ask. Happy All Saints Wake, though…?” She glanced over at her, offering a raise of her shoulders. 

“They’ll find your body in time for the next All Saints Wake, I assure you.” 

“Oh. Well, that works, at least!” 

Oliver spared her a glance. He offered at least one half of a smile, then said, “Mandi, please don’t kill my sister. You can take a limb, though..” 

“Hey, c’mon! I need my limbs.” For emphasis, she waved around her arms, glancing between the two of them. “This isn’t a game of halfsies here. All or nothing. I’m not a coward.” 

“He’s bartering for your life, and you’re trying to give her a reason to take it anyways.” Miyuki came up behind her, then stood at her side with crossed arms and a raised brow. He pushed up his glasses again, “That makes sense.” 

“You’re just jealous that she wants my life, and not yours.” 

“Oh, absolutely.” 

When Amandine’s forehead went to rest in her palm, Aurora let out another laugh. “Alright. How about, as an apology, we go and get some food? I guess I can pay as an apology. At least Oliver’ll forgive me?” She looked at him for confirmation, and only received a shrug as an answer. “Close enough. Come on, guys. I know a great restaurant in this area. They even serve free cake for your nameday, so we’ll all get a slice because of Miyuki.” 

“It had better be a vanilla cake.” 

“...Nevermind, the cake’s not worth it anymore. Chocolate or go home.” 

“Then you’re not getting cake at all, because I’m going home.” 

Amandine scoffed. “Forgive my forwardness, yet for the part you played in this trick, you are not leaving until I have received the finest slice of cake this restaurant has.” 

“I’m with Mandi. You two owe us cake,” Oliver said with a nod. As Aurora, Amandine, and Miyuki started off, he added, “...And besides, you’re both wrong, anyways. Ice cream cake is way better.” 

[lovinmightyfire]

Thank you lovely @scarlet-rainy-dreams for tagging me in this questionnaire. It’s so interesting, it was quite hard, but such a challenge and a nice time to think lots of stuff. 

The Proust Questionnaire has its origins in a parlor game popularized (though not devised) by Marcel Proust, the French essayist and novelist, who believed that, in answering these questions, an individual reveals his or her true nature.

1. What is your idea of perfect happiness?

My idea of perfect happiness would be...being at peace with myself and my surroundings. Enjoying the pleasant things of life...

2. What is your greatest fear?

Myself, my bad side. My anxiety that pushes to all the bad in my life...

3. What is the trait you most deplore in yourself?

And here it goes again. My anxiety issues. When I’m in painful stress, it’s like I can become someone entirely different, that can turn normal situations or daily life into pain and bad coping mechanisms, makes up sympthoms, believes in things I would never believe in my senses, let’s say. I know that I can come up to a certain point, but the hard thing is to stop it some times, and I just can’t bear myself like that.

4. What is the trait you most deplore in others?

I don’t like when people self loathes a lot and victimize themselves for believing they’re a piece of crap when they aren’t and they are humans, and all humans have their problems, and can also make their solutions. Often people that act like victims of life live off of the others,like toxic parasytes ruining the environment. I don’t like at all when people use victimism to take advantage on their lies,for example. Well, I can say I do not like ‘psychopatic’ behaviours.

5. Which living person do you most admire?

I would say my boyfriend, but he’s a human. Humans have defects, every human has things that one won’t like to copy or idolize. Well, he made me see my potential, he made me grow as an individual, he helped me to grow and focus on empathy, if that’s understandable. I love people that can give a little bit that goes a long way to help you to make a better you. Let’s say I could admire that people.

6. What is your greatest extravagance?

I think yeah, my love of japanese culture, and my passion onto let all people be...I don’t know if that’s also understandable,lol.

7. What is your current state of mind?

All I can think of is “ I need to have another ‘point of focus’ onto my stress”, like now it’s all centered in my back and neck and jaw. Lol. Also,needing to COPE with stress smoothly in order of a better quality of life. More than that, I just want time to pass to see if I can really make into the things I planned for this year. I always say “If it’s not prolly going to work out, I’ll surely keep hanging on the way so things will”.

8. What do you consider the most overrated virtue?

Being “social, extroverted,talkative”. 

9. On what occasion do you lie?

I don’t always lie, because I’m ...the most terrible person at that, and most likely will feel TOO guilty. But..as humans, like we are, we had said our white lies. I lie if I have to give a surprise to someone. I CAN’T WITH SURPRISES I ALWAYS RUIN THEM. But if I really need to keep it, I will..say I did sth else. And I also lie to go alone. Like, being with friends and saying “ Oh, I need to go to some place to take sth, I won’t join you/I’m going to the doctor so I’m leaving earlier” So I leave alone and travel completely alone, with no one going with me. Ah yeah. I isolate myself very often. Sometimes it’s a need, but it’s not like I’m overwhelmed with people. It’s a trait I also despise of myself,but something I need.

10. What do you most dislike about your appearance?

Maybe the shape I have in my torso. like, not having like a “feminine” figure,and not exercising makes it look weird... I don’t really have too many problems with myself on the outside. 

11. Which living person do you most despise?  

I despise no one. But I don’t quite like some people, because of what they are. 

12. What is the quality you most like in a man?

I love when a man is sensitive, is very sure of himself and what he likes and hates, when he can channel his beauty inside and outside, the wit and intelligence, AND A BEAUTIFUL SMILE AND EYES WHERE I CAN SEE THE ENDLESS HUMBLY AND HARMONY IN HIS SOUL sorry

13. What is the quality you most like in a woman?

Ehh well I like intelligence in a woman,also assertiveness. 

14. Which words or phrases do you most overuse?

“I love that” “I don’t like it when” “Thank you”

15. What or who is the greatest love of your life?

This is cheesy,but I’ll just read my heart, Istvan. I will never thank anyone so much. Despite everything, whatever the result is. I will always be thankful for lots of things. That leads me to, I also want to be the love of my life.

16. When and where were you happiest?

The first time I looked into Istvan’s eyes when I met him personally in an airport, dressing with a celebration outfit at midnight. I was shaking nervously, and when I laid eyes on him, it was like magic and time actually stopped. I felt in such a peace of mind state that led myself on, almost like floating of how calm I was, suddenly. There were no worries or expectations anymore, they were unexistent. I also recall when I looked at snowflakes when I was at his house. And when I was at sea floating, I said “I want to take a picture of this moment”. All the happiest moments take me to “love".  I also want to point that I feel so cheesy and embarrassed when talking about my love, or love in public. Ah. haha

17. Which talent would you most like to have?

I’d love to be very talented from the start with my favorite musical instruments. And maybe with creating clothes, like taking my creativity into clothing items but I can’t even simply sew. It’s like a math problem to me. Ah, I wouldn’t like to be talented on math or those things, because I don’t like them.

18. If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?

I changed lots of things I hated about myself these years. So I would like not to be anxious at all,or easily stressed,also being more ‘laid back’ in some decisions I could take,because life is about plans; but life is also about not following some of the plans. 

19. What do you consider your greatest achievement?

I feel more at ease with myself. I feel like I can really get to love myself in the future, in a 100%. I love so much some of my qualities, my traits that is unbelievable how proud I am of being what I am. This is what I call a great achievement.

20. If you were to die and come back as a person or a thing, what would it be?

A grim reaper. Maybe this isn’t my fourth life, maybe I sinned a lot, maybe I sinned in the next one, because I’m not gonna be a grim reaper with this life I have now. LOL *Evidently watched Goblin, carried away with it* Uso,uso. Nothing. I don’t have an idea.

21. Where would you most like to live?

Now I am very prepared for city life, with glimpses of nature. Would not like to live in the very center of a city because of the noise and the stuff...I also need the green in my life, the branches, the breeze. But I don’t like being far from a city.

22. What is your most treasured possession?

*I’ll figure out my room suddenly goes on fire* My headphones, the few meaningful band merch I have, A little Cortana doll my bf gave to me,along with a dragon statue,whew they’re meaningful.A necklace I always have on.

23. What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery?

Yeah, like Oli said, losing the will to live, despising yourself and others that much you’d do that.

24. What is your favorite occupation?

Doing something that awakes and stimulates my interest, which is very deep and passionate.

25. What is your most marked characteristic?

I am assertive. I am loyal. And the best for last, I am VERY determined/strong willed. I’m just marking what people says they admire of me.

26. What do you most value in your friends?

Being people who I can actually be at peace and silence when it’s necessary and not so necessary. People who act quickly and really wants to be around you. 

27. Who are your favorite writers?

Maybe I liked a lot of things Gabo García Márquez and Julio Cortázar wrote. But I like too many different styles, and I won’t mention more/or a real fav.

28. Who is your hero of fiction?

I don’t know, man. But heroes for me are strongly determined passionate and fight-for-their-dreams people. 

29. Which historical figure do you most identify with?

Nah, I don’t identify with anyone.

30. Who are your heroes in real life?

Oh, I already said that, don’t wanna repeat myself that much! 

31. What are your favorite names?

Ah! I love names! I like names with E and I ,they’re my favorite thing (why? IDK they sound so beautiful to me) like Ilonka, Imogen, Iris,Eren,Emre, Irine, Istvan (YEAH one of the reasons I came up with him was his beautiful name calling my attention) and if we’re calling a nationality I like hungarian names, russian/balkan/turkic names aka FANTASY SOUNDING BEAUTIFUL NAMES the most. I also like some japanese ones, but I’m turning off the weeb in this topic.

But to summarize it, I basically like unisex names, or female names that sound like male, and male names sounding like female. Names are beautiful, there’s something more than about this anyway. 

32. What is it that you most dislike?

Being a bait for something, being lied to

33. What is your greatest regret?

Not doing too much for my posture.

34. How would you like to die?

I don’t even wanna think about that. But what I wouldn’t like is making people I love suffer for me, feeling a useless burden. I’d rather die.

35. What is your motto?

"any dream stops being one if you believe in yourself, fight enough and just go for it all the way”

I’m tagging @severemagazinementality @rasenchuu @fautsus @natalicius @lunaloupgarou @april-lilies this time.