#someone Spade only knows from logs but not a face

[hoodie-rabbit]

Idolization

[a-driftamongopenstars]

under the fractal sun; guardian & crow & cayde ficlet;

my Guardian has a complicated relationship with Cayde, but I think it will be... interesting when he returns, in whichever shape or form 👀 dealing with those thoughts by imagining what the meeting between her, Cayde and Crow might go like. bungie?? also on ao3

She looks unto the valley, where it spreads miles and miles in all directions. Serene, perfect. Only one strange blemish on the landscape, the gate, the doorway to the Traveler, its bright fractals glowing like a sun.

But there is more. She looks up to someone she thought she would never see again. Cayde's glowing eyes, overflown with energy - Light? - meet hers. She knows he is smiling.

"Hey kid," he gets up from the log by the fire. On his hip is the unmistakeable shape of Ace of Spades. Strange, paracausal, shouldn't be here?

She sways on the spot, backwards from him, but then makes a step forward.

"Cayde."

A whole whirlwind of memories, how long has it been? She remembers his eyes, Light fading away. A trigger to what changed her life and put it upside down. Uldren's eyes turning to her before leaving. A revenge trip with no goal. Grief-stricken world, weighing down on her, and then on Crow with the entire might of anger and confusion.

And then, a journey towards healing, long and excruciating.

She feels Cayde's hands squeeze her shoulders, holding her upright. And she embraces him, not knowing what to do with her arms anymore, or thoughts anymore.

She feels him freeze for a moment, and feels the vibration of his voice against the top of her head.

"Huh. And that's him? Damn, kid, you have a way of making friends, don't you. I'm not even surprised, no, really! And a Hunter, too!"

There is no mean colour to his voice. Cayde sounds amused, if anything, and when she pulls away to turn and look at Crow who awaits behind her, Cayde waves him closer.

Crow doesn't say anything, not even when Cayde draws him into a hug, too. Brief, strong and reassuring.

"You are one of us, yeah? Good. Good."

She turns to look up at the sky, the ever developing fractals of the Traveler's gate move and fluctuate. Her heart is pounding in her ears, and she barely picks up on the wind that swirls around them. But she does hear Cayde's voice when the three of them face up towards the sky.

"The Traveler sure has a wicked sense of humor."

[hopeamarsu]

Anchor

Frankie Morales x reader

Word count 2,5k

Warnings: Angst, heartbreak, break-up, alcohol, brief mention of coke rap, self-esteem issues, minor off-screen character death (it’s Tom), general sadness, swearing, all the feelings

A/N: I don’t know why, but I’ve kept this fic in my drafts for a long time, going back and editing a word or two, but never having the courage to post it. But it’s time I guess, time to let this one leave the nest and fly free. I hope you enjoy the emotional wringer I put Frankie through.

Oh! And there is a small prequel here, if you are interested. 

The whole house is dark.

Empty.

Void of sounds of feet pattering on the hardwood floors.

Francisco Morales sits on his kitchen chair, a glass sweating on the table. He’s poured more than a generous serving of whiskey on top of the ice within but he hasn’t touched the drink yet.

In fact, he doesn’t know if he wants to. He already feels numb to the core, there is no knowing if the alcohol will help or hinder at this point. But he poured it out anyway, carrying it from the counter to the table if only to give him something to do for a second. 

Frankie’s phone is set next to the glass, the dark screen also void of life. He’s lost count of the times he’s picked it up in the past hour, trying to will himself to make a call but unable to. He doesn’t want to bother anyone, doesn’t even really know if there is someone to pick up the phone at this hour. 

He knows Santi is halfway across the world, probably enjoying the sweet caress of the woman that he’s so fond of. Or maybe someone else, Frankie doesn’t know. Santiago has always been one for free love and enjoying life to the fullest. Let him have his pleasure, Frankie thinks. 

The Miller brothers, Will and Benny, are coming home from one of Benny’s matches, hopefully winning one, and Frankie doesn’t want to break that rush of goodness they have. He knows both brothers have nightmares as he does; of Tom, the trek, and the final desperate drive on the beach, fighting for their escape and their lives. So he can’t really call either of them and bring them down into despair with him.

And Tom… Well, he cannot ever call Tom again. 

There is only one person left on Frankie’s phone log, but there is no way he’s picking the phone up to call that number. You are far too good for him, far too compassionate and he can never taint your light with his darkness. Because that’s what you are to him; light and passion and beauty and grace and love all wrapped up in a gorgeous package and he’s… he’s broken, beaten and on the ground, too old and too much and not enough at the same time. 

As much as he loves you, has always loved you with his entire heart, he cannot have you. He can only bask in your glow for a moment, that’s all he can allow himself. A fleeting warmth in his chest as you offer him one of your dazzling smiles. He will only love you from afar, that’s all he’s good for anyway. 

Frankie runs a tired hand across his face, feeling the stubble under his calloused palm, and absentmindedly thinks he’s overdue for a shave. But it’s not like he has anyone to comment on that stubble, not even Pope to rib him about his patchy beard now that… 

He squeezes his eyes shut, willing the tears that threaten to rise to the surface to remain hidden. Best not go there yet. If he does, he doesn’t know if he breaks up completely. Shatter in tiny pieces on the floor and swept away instead of fixing them. The darkness that has always surrounded him grows in spades as he blinks, his eyelashes damp already. 

He rips his hand off his jaw and picks up the glass finally, drowning half of the amber liquid in one go. It burns his throat but Frankie welcomes it, at least it makes him feel something. The numbness inside him shifts a little, accommodating the new sensation. He drowns the rest just as quickly, chasing the feel for a moment longer. He just wants to feel something. 

The moisture from the glass seeps into the pads of his fingers, making the glass slippery on his hand but he hardly recognizes it. His eyes are still closed as he chases the final burning moment before his throat settles. He wants to open them because the view of the note burned on the inside of his eyelids is painful to witness again, but at the same time, he doesn’t want to witness the empty sight of the apartment. 

Ring, ring!

The sudden sound in the silent house startles him from his thoughts and the glass slips from his grasp in his surprise. It shatters on the floor and Frankie can feel some shards hit his socks with the wetness but nothing feels painful so he ignores it. His eyes pop open and he looks at the phone blinking on the table in front of him, next to the small ring of water left from the glass.

The caller’s name is all too familiar. Frankie gulps, tears back in the forefront of his eyes and for a moment he wishes he was strong enough to disregard the call. But it’s you and he can never say no to you. So he picks up the phone, his hand shaking a little, and presses the small green button. 

“He-hello?” 

“Frankie? Why didn’t you call me? I just saw it plastered all over Facebook, oh god. That bitch. Are you alright?”

Your voice is frantic, the line a bit hard to hear which tells Frankie he’s on speakerphone which means you are driving. He glances at the clock on the microwave, finding it’s past 2 in the morning. Where are you going at this hour and why are you calling him? 

“I don’t… I’m not…” He can’t form a sentence, he’s so pathetic, Frankie thinks as he tries to gather his racing thoughts. He clears his throat but not a sound leaves his lips. 

“Frankie. Are you there? Are you alright? Do you need anything?”

“No, yes, I don’t... don’t know.” He finally chokes out, his throat feeling raw at the words. 

“I’m coming over. We’ll fight this Frankie, I promise you we’ll fight this. She cannot take Maria away from you, we’ll find a way. I promise you, it’s all going to work out somehow. Just talk to me, tell me everything.”

Your voice is determined, angry even and that’s the breaking point for Frankie. He bursts into sobs, all the numbness finally giving away, like a dam breaking. The tears run down his face as he sobs his worry, his sadness, and his anguish to the phone, finally letting the pain of it all out. 

In broken words, hiccups interrupting every few moments, he tells you how he came home to an empty house, cleared out closets and empty toy containers and a single letter. His lady had decided that the promise of marriage wasn’t enough for her and he was too much to handle, his nightmares too scary and his job not good enough. 

She’d said in her letter that he wasn’t dependable, the coke rap and the stint in Colombia breaking her trust to pieces and he couldn’t be around Maria anymore. According to her, Frankie is too dangerous to be around his baby girl. He can only imagine the poison she’s put out in the world, the words already so cruel and cold and casting him numb all over. 

He falls silent after the final words, his breath now more dry wheezing than anything else as he wipes his eyes. The phone is still in his hand and he can hear the panic in your voice as you start talking rapidly.

“Shit! Shit, shit, shit. Frankie, I’m almost there, but keep talking. Talk to me honey, I’m like 5 minutes away. We’ll figure this out, I promise you. And I never break my promises, you know that.”

“I’m here, I’m…. I’m fine. There’s no need to come over.” He chokes out, not wanting to inconvenience you any further.  

“That’s bullshit and you know it. I love you Francisco Morales and I am not letting you deal with this on your own. Now come on and open up the front door, I’m turning into your street in a minute. Just keep me on the phone in the meantime, yeah?” 

He knows you’d never say that and mean it like he wants, the words relaying compassion more than actual love and it breaks him down a little more, a sob escaping his chest. He’s already lost his daughter for the foreseeable future, his lady gone in the flash, and now he’s forced to hear the words he’s been so desperate for years but only for them to mean nothing more than friendship and said in pity. 

“The door honey. I can see your driveway, please come and open the door.” 

His legs follow your desperate plea on autopilot, taking shaky steps across the kitchen and towards the front door. It’s a miracle he doesn’t step on any broken shards on his way. The phone drops somewhere in the hallway, your tinny voice echoing on the floor as the headlights sweep the windows. 

Frankie opens the door just as you cut the engine of your car behind his truck and fly across the lawn. He bets the keys are still in the ignition, the door hanging open as you barrel into his body. 

He oomphs at the sudden weight but doesn’t mind it as you hang tight onto him, your arms tight as you hug him with all your might. His arms go around your frame automatically and Frankie lets himself be enveloped in your warmth and scent as he hides his face in the crook of your neck, fresh tears swimming in his eyes again. 

You came for him, he realizes suddenly. It’s the middle of the night, you probably have work the next morning but still you came for him, to support him and be there for him. That hits him like a ton of bricks. He feels breathless, all the air trapped in his lungs. 

It’s something he has trouble grasping on the whole, so used to hiding his emotions and feelings. So to have this, have someone on his corner unasked, is almost too much on his raw emotions and Frankie feels himself getting overwhelmed as he molds his body with yours. 

He feels you pepper kisses on his cheek and forehead, trailing up and down the length of his face and he lets the tears fall freely as he cries. You murmur words of encouragement, much of them not making any sense to him, but the vibration of your chest against his is comforting and makes him feel a little safer. He clings to you, his sobs wracking both your bodies but you don’t seem to mind, doubling your efforts in calming him. 

Frankie tightens his grip on you, feeling like you are the anchor holding him steady as the war rages outside and for a moment, the eye of the storm is still. 

He can weather this out as long as you are there with him, he thinks and the thought gives him hope. That tiny little sliver of hope makes him reckless and he pulls back, gazing into your beautiful, teary eyes for a moment before crashing your lips together.  

He tastes tears, hot and heavy on his tongue, but he also tastes something so uniquely you and he has to have a further taste. You feel perfect against him, like two pieces of a broken stone melting together. This feels like heaven, Frankie decides as he commits the feel of your lips against him. He wants this and more. 

Before he can beg for entry to deepen the kiss, you pull back softly. You look at him, your hands still behind his neck. There is something in your eyes that makes Frankie feel hesitant. The worry grows deep in his belly that he might’ve just ruined a long friendship.  

“Is this… Am I, are you… I’m sorry.” He stutters, cursing himself as he moves you gently, grasping the hands and untangling them from his neck. But selfishly he keeps you there, holding your hands in his and basking in the final rays of light he’s sure to get. He needs this final moment to look back to before you run from him.  

“There’s nothing to forgive.” Your words are gentle as you let him down, your voice calm as you keep holding his hands. “You are emotional, it happens.” 

The easy dismissal of the kiss as something that means nothing when it was everything is something that tips the scales suddenly, this time in another direction. 

Frankie shakes his head in anger. He needs to let you know it was not just the turmoil inside him of losing Maria and losing his failing relationship. He aches to tell you the truth, the years he’s spent loving you from afar. The hope within his chest has grown and he can no longer hide, he’s come this far and you deserve to know it all. 

One taste and he’s addicted, he thinks wryly, more than he ever was to anything else. He takes a deep breath and gathers you back in his arms. He tips your jaw with his hand and opens his heart to you. Prays you won’t toss it back to him, even more bruised, broken and bleeding than it already is.  

“It’s not that. I love you, darling, I think I always have. And this,” he nods towards the car, the door still open and the keys still in the ignition, “this means the world to me. You mean the world to me. I will apologize that I kissed you without talking to you first, but I will not apologize for why I kissed you.”

He tips his own head down so your foreheads are touching and he breathes in the calming scent of you. “It’s fucked up, I know. But mi alma, it’s always been you. You’ve been my anchor in the storm for so long and I can’t hold myself back anymore. It’s selfish beyond anything but I…”

His monologue is cut abruptly as he tastes you once again; tastes the fresh tears that have gathered on both your faces, the lip balm you always carry around with you, and finally, as your lips open for him, he tastes you fully and the flavors burst on his palette. He deepens it, moaning a little as you answer his words by pouring your love and passion into the kiss.

Frankie feels his whole world shift in its axis again, righting itself after the events of the day. He molds his lips to yours, drinking in the taste and love that pours in and out of the kiss before the lack of oxygen in his lungs feels like burning.

“This, this is real?” He pants out against your lips and feels you nod. “You… You want this too?” 

“Yes,” You whisper back. “I’m real, this is real and I love you too. So so much, Frankie. I think I’ve always loved you too.” 

Your nose brushes against his and you kiss him again, telling him everything he needs to know about your love without words and he answers in kind, giddiness in his chest for the first time in a long while.  

I hope you enjoyed!

Everything taglist @clydesducktape​ @themuseic​ @miraclesabound​ @a-true-janian-reply​ @10blurredsmoke10​  @caillea​ @mariesackler​ @princessxkenobi​

PPCU taglist @littlemisspascal​ @kesskirata​

[simpingforthisonedeer]

Chapter 11: Sons & Daughters

SFW version here

Summary:  Holly is involving herself in things she shouldn't be, like telling the Wizard King he is doing necromancy. Aika plays matchmaker and then has tea with Lord Silva. The Captain of the Royal Guards "greets" Aika and the faceless assassin from the final battle returns. 6563 words

Notes: Heyo folks! Im back 😎 I stopped waiting for the Spade arc to finish so I’m posting now. It’s gonna be really fun from here on out cus we’re slowly easing into the plot so I can’t wait😋

Tagging: @ckjwnnbc​ @thoughtfullyrainynightmare @lyranova​ @elysianluv​

“Good Morning, Julius!” She chirped from where she was seated on her mother’s lap, completely unaware of tension.

A smile lit up his face. He was truly happy to see her again. He faintly wondered if he would get an opportunity to ask about her magic.

"Good morning, Holly! How wonderful to see you again! Are you here to spend the day with your mother?"

"No, I'm about to go to the CLK headquarters to go see Uncle Fueggy, and Leo!" He raised a brow at the name. Uncle Fueggy?

"Good morning, Julius," Aika greeted as casually as she could as her arms tightened around Holly.

His face softened when he looked up at her. She felt her face heat up under his gaze. It always seemed like he was looking through her.

"Good morning, Aika." His low voice raised goosebumps on the nape of her neck. "I just wanted to inform you that I will be touring the bases and will hold a conference with the Captains. I was wondering if you would like to accompany me? It would be a simple way to come out of the shadows as well, now that your amulet is gone," he explained, his voice the epitome of neutral.

She ushered Holly off of her lap and stood up as she clasped her cloak pin, slight regret crossing her face,

"I’m sorry, Julius. I have to go settle a territorial dispute between the city-states Roma and Amor." While it wasn't necessary to provide details, her Uncle recommended that she tell him minor details of her company to encourage Julius to trust her more about his own work.

She had only noticed after Master Raymond pointed it out but Julius may tend to seem casual and open but that was just part of his charm. He asked a lot of questions but rarely ever revealed any details about himself but most people don't notice it because he was so charismatic.

"What does that territorial dispute have to do with you?" Holly grumbled as she crossed her arms. She wanted her mom to come visit Fuegoleon instead. It’s a big achievement becoming captain! It’s like becoming a general.

Aika layed a gloved hand on her head as a small smile crept up her face.

"My company owns a big part of the land they're fighting over so it's a matter of who I will be paying the taxes to." Holly was always very aware of her mother's work and it was all so fascinating. She was glad she explained this stuff to her in a way she could understand. She hated not knowing things.

Aika looked up and addressed Julius again who was listening in interest.

"Then, I would have to have tea with Lord Silva, and hopefully finish that before I have to go introduce myself again to the Royal Guard who take lessons from me once a week. They don't remember me because of the amulet I used to have."

"Oh! I've heard about some faceless teacher giving lessons to the Royal Guard from Master Raymond." Julius touched his chin thoughtfully. "He told me it was you...It was the amulet you were wearing right? Would they even remember your lessons if they couldn't remember your face?"

"Yes, and of course. They only don't remember the identity of their teacher." She tilted her head when she noticed the time. "I must be going now," she announced as she pulled out her communicator. “I will talk to you more when I return.” Aika brought the device up to her mouth. "Ellie, to Roma please." A portal opened up next to her. "I'll see you later, Julius. And Holly," she gave her a stern look. "Behave yourself. Don't bother Fuegoleon too much, okay?” She sighed. It was his first day as Captain but he permitted Holly to come visit him anyway. She worries how much he showed favoritism towards Holly. “And no mischief,” she added.

Holly nodded somberly, suppressing a grin. It was perfect that Julius had walked in when he did. While it wasn't necessarily mischief, she needed to inform him of something that may be considered a bother in her mom's books. She may not exactly like him yet, but this was important. It was her very first, very real mission.

"Yes, mom. I love you!" She blushed when her mom gave her one of her infamous headpats. "Be safe!"

Aika smiled down at her daughter. "Of course." She nodded at Julius who winked at her in response. She blushed as she shook her head and ported away. 

"Julius?" Holly called seriously, her face turned away from him. He briefly feared that that wink may have been too much in front of her.

"Yes, Holly?"

"Are you going to the Crimson Lions Headquarters first?"

He raised a brow.

"Yes. How did you know that?"

She turned around with a mischievous grin.

"It's the closest base to the capital, so logically you would go there first."

"Wow!" He didn't expect deductive reasoning from a 10-year-old.

She smiled proudly.

"So, could I come with you? I'm going there too and I want to tell you something."

That piqued his curiosity. She had something to tell him?

"That mark you and mom are wearing on your forehead." She tapped her forehead. "Do you know what that is?"

Julius stilled at her words. Should he even be talking about this?

"It's a mark from a magic item," he answered cautiously.

"Yeah, I overheard. But do you know what the rune actually means or represents?"

"Er, no?" Where was she going with this?

"Well, the Nordic runes, the Hebrew alphabet and the Star of David are derived from the six-rayed star."

He quirked his brow again. He never knew that and it was fascinating information that he could delve into. But why did she sound so serious?

"The top part of the Tree of Life, also known as the Tree of Sephiroth or Sephirah is also derived from the same rune."

Julius's eyes widened. The elves who used to live near Hage worshipped the emanations in the Tree of Sephirah. Was the Swallowtail their relic? But the first Wizard King had a log of how he invented it so was it inspired by the elves?

"Any magic related to the Sephirah is life magic, used in resurrection, necromancy, reincarnation etcetera etcetera. It's forbidden magic."

Chills swept through him. Oh. Now that she put it that way, that was exactly what he was doing wasn't he? He reasoned that it was so that he could revive himself but that was technically necromancy, wasn't it?

"Mana and life essence are one and the same and you are storing your mana in it right? So that means you are storing your life energy," Holly narrowed her eyes at him in suspicion. "And also, there are elves in other countries who might find it a great offence that you are wearing Sephira's mark, especially when you don't worship it." She looked pointedly at the cross he wore.

"How do you know all of this?" He asked as he mirrored her suspicious gaze.

"My mom's old teacher, who is now my teacher, is an elf and a High Priest of Sephirah. He told me. He knows a lot about the divinity part of forbidden magic. And in order to learn about the light, you need to know the dark so yeah, he knows about all of this." She walked past him towards the door leading to his office. "But please don't tell my mom I know because she doesn't want me learning about the darker parts of forbidden magic yet."

He followed Holly into his office, thinking about how surreal this all was. A ten-year-old was just casually telling him off about necromancy and religion.

"Then why are you telling me this?"

"Because the Triad in the Spade kingdom and their Devils would target this kingdom more aggressively if they knew that someone was bearing the mark that represented the antithe—" She wrestled with the word. "Antithesis to them." She raised her arms defensively. "I'm just telling you what my teacher told me." He was a prophet for Sephirah. Someone who had also achieved Enlightenment, which granted him the ability to bear the Image of God, Imago Dei, and not go blind or insane. He and the other Enlightened Ones would receive direct orders or visions from God that they must carry out. He told her that she needed to tell Julius Novachrono that he must be wary of the mark on his head. When she asked him why, he told her it was more for her sake than him but the message must be relayed nevertheless.

His words worried Holly because did that mean she must be wary of the mark too? She worshipped the sun gods which were emanations of The God so they will be merciful towards her if she made a mistake. Right? Holly wasn’t so sure.

After all, there was no law dictating that God must be fair.

Julius stared long and hard at her. That was very heavy information for a child to bear. And how did her teacher know all that information about the Spade Kingdom? Why did he want to relay it to him? He needed to think on this because there is a very real threat from Spade that could kill him and if he had no way to come back, who was going to protect Clover Kingdom? He needed to keep the mark.

"Alright." He said simply. He would think about this later. "Who's Uncle Fueggy?" He asked with a bright smile, changing the topic. A child shouldn't dwell on such things. 

Holly blushed at that question, ignoring the bizarre way his mood quickly switched up for now.

"Fuegoleon played with me a lot when I was a kid so it's a habit," she explained sheepishly.

"Oh, is your family close to the Vermillions?"

"Well—" Her mom did not want her to tell anyone about her and Mereoleona unless she said so, so she couldn't say anything. "You have to ask my mom about that."

"I see..." Julius did remember the tense looks former Captain Leonardo and Aika shared. There seemed to be some history. Well, he could ask Fuegoleon himself when he goes to their base. If Holly wanted to accompany him, he doesn’t see a reason why she shouldn’t. 

He proffered his elbow to her with a dashing smile. "Shall we go?"

Aika landed unsteadily on the study floor as she tossed her cloak and folders on the desk. Ellie followed behind her, eyes blank and wide as she just tried to process what she just witnessed.

"Are they going to be fine...?" She asked, pointing shakily at the shrinking portal behind her.

Aika leaned on her desk as she pinched the bridge of her nose, staving off an oncoming headache.

"Of course they're going to be fine. The two kings are in love with each other despite how much they fight."

"What?!”

“Yes. It is obvious to most of the officials in the room, myself included.”

“I—” Ellie sputtered in shock as Aika continued.

“Usually, I don’t play cupid but in a show of unity they were trying to impose both their taxes on me and I can’t have that. Our branch on the disputed land is a small one and it would go bankrupt if they did that. So I did the next best thing. I paid the wait staff and guards off so that they would direct the two kings to the same private lounge when they adjourned for recess and lock them for the entirety of the break.”

Ellie gaped at Aika and her crazy idea.

“They’ll either talk it out or kiss and make up.”

“...But how would that help us?”

“This plan could only work because I have a good rapport with both the kings. I proposed a plan where they could split the money from one single tax evenly between themselves. If they talked it out calmly and away from prying eyes, they would go with my plan. If they kissed and made up, their first compromise together as partners would be to go with my plan as well because they are both favorable towards me. They were only being unfair because of the tension between each other, not with me.” It was guaranteed that it would go either way. She didn’t play fair and not use her Time Magic with her own company. She could see what choices she could make that could lead to a favorable outcome for her and her company. 

She knew what investments to make, where to take risks and where to back down, but only if she could think up various solutions to her problems. If she couldn’t think of any plan, then her foresight would offer her nothing. 

She could only see if the plan that she thought up works or not but her foresight couldn’t offer her a plan itself because there technically would be thousands, if not millions, of ways any situation could play out. If she had visions of all of them at once, with the information overload, she would be dead instantly. She has to come up with a plan herself and confirm its success. It was better that way because it kept her sharp.

“What if the—er, tension between the two escalated to a physical fight?”

 Aika plopped down in her armchair with a sigh. She had thought of that as well but she didn’t need to worry about that.

“Even if they did have a fist fight, I’m not worried because those two would not go to war over personal vendettas. I think it would relieve some stress between them actually. In the end, they will calm down and end up compromising on my idea. So either way, whatever manifests in that room, hate or love, I’ve no doubt they will be coming out of it a little bruised,” she smirked as she crossed her legs.

Ellie let out a laugh at her boss’s suggestive look. Aika was relieved she could reassure her. She tended to worry too much about such things. Evan, Jayce and Ellie do not know that she used Time Magic. So they sometimes wondered how she was so sure about her decisions. After years of wondering, they just chalked it up to forbidden magic.

"Ready for round two?" She asked, referring to the tea they were about to have with Lord Silva. Ellie hummed affirmatively as she shook her head in amusement.

"I have only been as far as the gates to the Silva Mansion. Is that alright, ma'am?"

"Yes, Ellie. That is perfect." They quickly freshened up and stepped into the portal and the grand gates of a white, picturesque mansion came into view. With it's steeples, domes, and solid, white brick walls, it would be more appropriate to call it a castle. Daunting gates made of black metal framed tastefully by green vines slowly swung open when their feet touched the cobblestone.

Aika and Ellie shared a cautious look and took the first step forward together.

When they reached the burnt, spruce wood doors, Aika stared at the tacky gold eagle door knockers in exasperation. Ellie reached for them without a second thought and knocked twice, the loud noise startling Aika. The spatial mage looked at her apologetically as the doors seemingly opened by themselves to reveal the Lord of the house standing in the middle of the foyer, his back ramrod straight, hands linked behind him as an ever-present scowl eased into a bored expression in some resemblance of courtesy.

"Welcome to my home, Madam Tolliver and..." His gaze landed on Ellie. "And uninvited guest," he sneered as he took in her appearance. It was obvious that she was a commoner and even worse, a foreigner. Her big, red eyes, soft nose, and plump lips all encompassed by skin as dark as the sea stood in direct contrast to his features. The only trait they seemed to share was the snow white hair that seemed to shine with an otherworldly glow.

Aika cleared her throat when Ellie's brows furrowed to glare back at the older man.

"I hope you don't mind my maid accompanying me. She's a close associate of mine that assists me in anything I need."

Lord Silva's eyes snapped back to hers as he pursed his lips.

"She may wait in the gardens. The matters we are going to discuss are rather... delicate."

Aika turned to her and nodded permissively. There was no reason for her to stay. She could simply go back to the headquarters but the more area a spatial mage covers, the more places they could travel to, and the more valuable they would be. It would be...advantageous for her to be able to travel directly onto the Silva property if she needed to for any reason.

A servant led Ellie away while Lord Silva motioned her to follow him. She side-eyed the paintings she passed by, but one in particular made her pause mid-step. It was undoubtedly the painting of Acier Silva. It was gigantic as if to immortalize every detail on her beautiful face and the frame was grand and ornate. Lord Silva stood stock still next to her, looking up at his former wife with eyes full of utter adoration and heartache.

Aika looked away, allowing him to have his moment.

When she noticed his feet move away, she followed him, putting that little moment of vulnerability behind them.

He led her to a well-lit sitting room with big windows and a view to the gardens that was breathtaking in the afternoon sun. 

Aika faintly wondered how Holly was doing.

Another servant poured them tea and quickly left the room, leaving them in tense silence. She looked out into the garden, clearing her mind and bringing the tea to a much more lukewarm temperature with her magic.

"I apologize for my behaviour on that day," Lord Silva said evenly. She turned to him with slightly raised brows as if she had just noticed his presence. "Whether it was wanted or not, you saved me and I should be grateful to you for that."

"Should be," meaning he wasn't.

Aika looked pensively into her cup.

"Tell me, sir," She peered up at him through her lashes. "How many children do you have?"

He stared at her for a moment, lips parted, before he finally answered,

"Four."

"Have any of them struck your mind before the earth struck you?"

"Excuse me?"

She took a sip.

"I'm sure you need no repeating."

"How dare you ask me such a personal thing?!"

Lord Silva's voice raised several notches, immediately setting Aika on the edge but she restrained her tone and body language.

She quietly stared at him straight in his eyes and he scowled back, refusing to back down for a minute. When he realized she wasn't either, he wrenched his gaze away with a derisive scoff.

"You still haven't answered my question. I'm sure that's not very polite in Clover society," she added lightly. He huffed as a sneer crawled up his face.

"Neither is asking such questions."

"Think of it as payment for saving your life."

"The debt can only be fulfilled when I save you in return."

"You will never save me." Lord Silva's gaze snapped up to her's with a jolt. Blank eyes were downcast at her cup as her left cheek twitched in annoyance.

It seemed like she slipped up once more. It has been happening a lot recently. What was wrong with her?

"What?"

"I meant that you would not have an opportunity to save me." She cleared her throat. "Answer the question for me at least, as your saviour and as a mother."

He was taken aback by that.

"You are a mother?" He asked incredulously.

Aika smiled internally. Information must always be timed perfectly. She had used the truth to both change the subject and reveal a detail about her in a show of false vulnerability that would no doubt encourage him to open up a bit more.

"I am." She smiled lightly. "I have a daughter. Nearly ten."

"So do I..." Lord Silva's shoulders relaxed slightly. He wrapped his hands around the cup comfortingly as he sighed. He caved under her persistence and answered,

"No, I haven't. I haven't thought of them at all."

Aika let the silence envelop them for a moment.

“If you abandoned your children and died, how do you think Lady Acier is going to react?"

He stared at her in shock. How dare she be so casual with him?

"Whether you go to the Underworld or the After, it would be hell either way. If the father of my child died to follow me into the After, leaving our daughter, believe me, I would raise hell."

He looked away pensively when her words struck him.

“I suppose you’re right...”

And with that, Aika was done with what she came for.  She gave him something to think about and hopefully it would snowball into something better for him.

She stood up as she set her cup down.

“I’m glad we agree. I don’t believe there is much to discuss.” She clasped her hands in front of her. “I pray that your retirement is as peaceful as today’s afternoon.

“We are not done yet.”

Aika looked up with a raised brow.

“Your Uncle.” she twitched at the mention. Silva senior smirked at her as she sat down in interest.

He knew.

“Yes, Raymond told me you were his niece. He also told me about your company.”

She picked her cup up with a sigh.

“You two fooled the rest of the world into thinking that you were enemies.” She took a sip. “It seems like that is not the case.”

“We were rivals, but we are also comrades,” he retorted defensively. “But back to the point. He told me about your company, Eidolon.”

She tensed at the name. It was very rare to hear the name of her company. It was both a secret and not. It was vast and well-known but it was strange hearing a Clover citizen discuss it.

“He told me that he was allowed to recommend one person if he wished, to work for your company,” he conjured a sheet of water that materialised into a thick binder of papers. “And he recommended me to your company.” He placed it on the table in front of her. “This was the paperwork and possible contracts I could sign that he gave to me. I have no plans to sit around during my retirement. I want to join the dungeon raiders.”

Aika threw a perplexed look between the papers and the man who stared intently at her for her response.

She opened her mouth open, and snapped it shut when nothing came out. She was at loss for words.

When she asked her Uncle to maybe recommend someone in the future, she meant someone young, adaptable and full of potential. Not a recently retired Magic Knight Captain who is well known to be classist and most likely racist, and too old to learn anything new like a language or a culture.

She was so close to blurting out a rejection but she stilled her tongue. She threw up a polite smile and pretended to sift through the papers in interest.

“I will...consider it,” she finally answered tightly. Silva Senior seemed to be oblivious to her annoyance as he clapped his hands together.

“Well, that’s settled then!” He stood up with her and led her to the door with a wave of his arm.

Aika pursed her lips as he allowed her to pass him. He threw a cold look at her back. He didn’t want to spend any more time in her presence than he had to. He was stubborn but he knew how to pick and choose his battles.

“I must go pick up my maid,” she informed him as they walked in long strides, both eager to relieve themselves of each other’s company.

“Ah, yes of course. I shall show you around the gardens on the way if you don’t mind.” He really didn’t have to but he was just playing the role of a polite lord. And he played it well too. Any sign that they had a heart-to-heart was gone, replaced with brittle formality.

“Thank you, but I have another appointment and I must get to it soon.”

Aika must introduce herself to the Royal Guard, but this time, they will not forget her.

Ellie’s portal directly landed them on the training fields in Clover Castle. Aika adjusted the shoulder brace that clung to her crimson half-cloak that covered her left shoulder. Her longsword hung from her waist, ready to be drawn at a moment’s notice. She appreciated how time magic always helped her get ready quicker.

“And who might you be, porting into Clover Castle without permission?”

Aika looked up and a finger crystallizing with ice was pointed between her eyes, threatening to engulf her any second. She tilted her head to the side to stare at the owner of said finger.

It was the Captain of the Royal Guards, Sal. The rest of the guards were in various groups, exercising or sparring but they all paused to stare at her.

“Hello there, Captain,” she greeted. “You wouldn’t remember but I was the one helping you train your men and I came to reveal my face today.”

Sal raised a brow.

“Is that so?”

He brought his sword up and down in an axe cut where her exposed shoulder was at an unprecedented speed. But Aike blocked it with a dagger she reflexively drew from her forearm where it was strapped.

“Attacking without a warning,” she drawled. “How rude.”

Sal grinned at her.

“No real fight has a countdown.”

She pushed his sword away from her face as he slackened. She took this moment to tie her hair at the nape with a ribbon and drew her sword.

“I see that you wish to test me.”

“Well, Master Raymond did say something about forgetting someone before he left, but I didn’t forget the way they fought.” He rolled his shoulders as his smile fell away and a sharp glint in his eyes surfaced. “Would you mind a spar?”

Aika sighed heavily. Sal wasn’t the one for chit chat, always got to the point in an almost rude fashion. She will make this quick, just as he would prefer it.

“On your mark.”

He threw himself forward with his ice magic propelling his feet and clanged his sword against hers. While Aika pushed with her sword hand and shoulder, she wrapped her other hand around the hilt of his sword where he attached his hand to it with ice so it wouldn’t slip off and she crushed it so the ice encasing it broke.

Sal’s eyes went wide and with the element of surprise, she twisted the sword out of his slippery hand and threw it to the side, far from his reach. 

He launched himself upwards with a tall pillar of ice before she could attack him but she laid a hand on it and melted the pillar with her time magic and it instantaneously turned to water. She pretended she had water magic and this just helped solidify that lie.

When he dropped and rolled, Aika quickly moved to kick him to the side mid-roll but he grabbed her ankle and knee and tripped her onto her side. She threw her sword away as she fell and waited for Sal to come close. He tried to pick her up by the leg but she used the momentum to wrap her legs around his thick neck and she squeezed hard .

She rocked forward and backwards as he choked and he toppled face first but he braced himself with his arms. Aika used this opportunity to reach back and grab his ankles and wrenched them backwards so he couldn’t use his legs.

The leg lock around Sal’s neck slackened and so he inserted his hand between her calves and made a tube of ice that forced her legs apart, freeing him from the chokehold. Aika broke away from the ice clinging to her pants and shifted her hips to straddle his back and grabbed his arm and forced it behind him.

“Give up,” she finally said. Sal struggled in her grip and tried to use his musculature to overpower her strength but it was no use. Aika had always had an abnormal amount of physical strength.

He stopped struggling and tapped the ground twice with his free hand.

“I surrender!” His voice strained.

And just like that, she rolled off of his back and offered a hand to him. Sal took the proffered hand and stood up as he rolled his neck with a grimace.

“That grip was not expected at all. What do they even feed you?” He asked as he scratched his beard.

“Same thing as they feed you. I just don’t have a tendency to flex my muscles like you men,” she said lightly as she covered her smile with her hand. Sal was often funny when he wasn’t terrifying his guards to do their job right. Talking to him was always fun and she would be lying if she said she wasn’t happy that she finally got to talk to him as herself and not some faceless cryptid who whooped the guards asses once a week.

“No shit.” The gathered crowd moved closer to listen to the exchange. “You’re covered from head to toe like a nun!”

Aika let out a laugh.

“Far from it actually!”

He leaned in as if to tell her a secret but whispered loudly, “But I would be lying if I said anyone in this castle is a saint.” He thought for a moment. “Well, except maybe the new Wizard King. Met him earlier today. He was really nice and young. Didn’t seem to be ruffled by too much and was full of boundless energy like a puppy.”

Her mind couldn’t help but conjure up images and memories. A wide smile framed by little dimples that kept her distracted. The passionate way he discussed magic without an end. A soft, content look that he would give her when she added onto his rants.

Aika felt her ears burn up. This infatuation was too much. She was not a schoolgirl yet there she was blushing like one.

“Yes, he is like that a lot.”

“Oh, you know him personally?”

She sighed as she let a smile take over her.

“Something like that.”

“Oh.” Sal smirked. “I see.” He cleared his throat. “Well, Madam Tolliver, wasn’t it? My name is Sal, Captain Sal.” He offered a hand for her to shake. “But I’m sure you knew that.”

“I did, and you seem to know mine as well.”

“Master Raymond made sure to brief the entirety of the Castle staff on many things after the final battle.” She nodded in understanding. Sal motioned at the crowd of guards who were speaking in low voices.

“Well, do you have anything to teach or train us for today? We can catch up over drinks later.”

Aika crossed her arms and scanned her surroundings. She recognized some of the faces among the crowd and Evan and Jayce gave her a thumbs up when she spotted them. Ellie moved to lean on the castle wall where the shadows provided reprieve from the afternoon sun. Sal had a mischievous smile that only served to increase the dread among the guards. The rooms overlooking the training grounds were some libraries, conference rooms and some lounges for the Wizard King to use.

Aika took a deep breath. It was hard not being anonymous. She couldn’t just rely on people to forget the things she will say or do in the future now. She had to watch herself in the future or consequences will follow her.

“Last time, some of them mentioned wanting to practice offense and defense because we practiced intelligence gathering last time so I suppose that?”

She looked to Sal for approval.

“Yes, that sounds good. I’ll keep watch.”

He still had that smile on his face and she wasn’t sure why.

“Okay, everyone!” She raised her voice to catch people’s attention. “My name is Aika. You may call me Miss Aika. I was the teacher who had been training you all alongside Captain Sal when Master Raymond was still Wizard King.” The crowd began to murmur amongst themselves at her words. “That being said, we’re going to be practicing offense and defense today.”

Aika drew a circle around her with a sword, a meter wide, as Sal moved away to stand next to Ellie in the shade.

“Your task is very simple. You have to push me out of the circle in any way you see fit. All of you have to do this at the same time. But of course you can’t all crowd me at once because you might hurt your allies so this tests your teamwork too if you wish to work with other people.”

Someone raised their hand.

“Yes?”

“Will you be attacking us too?”

“I will attack if someone attacks me inside the circle but I will not initiate any offense yet. I will also be defending myself. Blocking, deflecting, and cutting down attacks. I may even send back one of your spells back towards you. You are all allowed to attack me however you please. But think of this exercise as a way to coordinate against one enemy so don’t all rush in at once.”

As Aika spoke, they all slowly moved to surround her at a good distance. She could see the gears shifting in their minds as a strategy formed in their heads. Unlike the Magic Knights, who can go on solo missions or in small teams, the Royal Guards must protect the castle as a one big team. These training exercises have been especially frequent the past few years because of the constant wars with Diamond and Spade kingdoms. And since King Augustus had been crowned, he had been especially insistent on everyone being able to protect him.

“I am ready when you are.”

They didn’t even give her a moment to breathe. Everyone on the front line shot their long-ranged spells at her. All the trajectories were different. Some were straight and some were arching over her so it was difficult to simply just jump and let them collide but she had no other option.

Aika jumped high and tried to make it seem natural when she weaved through the ones still in the air and took this moment to see where the next attack was coming from. Close-range fighters readied themselves to ambush her, no doubt going to use the smoke of the spells that exploded below her to their advantage. Her position is set in that little circle so there’s no uncertainty as to where she will be.

When she landed on her feet, amidst the dense smoke, three people leapt towards her, wielding various weapons. Her objective was not only to push them aside but to knock them out or else they will keep coming back. One woman with a spike-less morningstar swung at her but Aika subtly slowed down the force and when another attacker lunged at her back, she sidestepped and sped up his speed and he was smacked right in the shoulder by the woman. She froze in shock at how she accidentally injured her ally.

Aika’s circle was getting cramped so she kicked them both away and used the momentum to kick the next man right in the side of the neck. She studied enough anatomy during her college years to know that she kicked him perfectly in the vagus nerve and he was knocked out cold as his daggers slipped out of his hands.

The smoke dissipated as she rolled him out of the circle with her foot.

She tied her hair up tighter as she taunted,

“Who’s next?”

There was an immediate response.

Golems rose out of the ground, their bodies burning with the enchantments of different elements. She was briefly impressed with how quickly they infused the mana of multiple mages into them.

They all tried to swarm her but she finally drew her sword and swung in a wide arc. As they were all cut in half and the mana escaped, she drew it all to her.

Her head whipped towards a loud cheer that came somewhere from above. The distraction was dangerous but if she was being honest, she had nothing to worry about. What was the worst that could possibly happen?

Aika’s heart jumped when she saw Julius who was waving enthusiastically from a window. He must be using one of the conference rooms that was overlooking the training grounds. A familiar ginger headed man also leaned forward behind the Wizard King in confusion and was surprised to see her when he spotted her. Her heart warmed at the familiar face. It had been weeks since she had seen Fuegoleon and now he was Captain.

She waved at the both of them with her sword hand as she held the other hand up to hold the growing ball of mana. She should go congratulate him as well.

Just as she refocused her attention back to the fight on hand, a figure came lunging at her with a sword but she quickly blocked. Aika couldn’t help but feel surprised when she strained against his strength. She couldn’t see the entirety of the man’s face except for his growing grin. All her instincts seemed to awaken at once, screaming at her to move, but her skepticism and curiosity kept her still.

Then in a strange turn of events, he let the sword slip out of his hand and his other hand seemed to reach for her stomach, but curled into a tight fist and punched her right under her ribs.

For the first time in years, Aika went flying. She was slammed against the castle walls, creating a sizable crater. Her breath was knocked out of her and her head spun but a brief surge of rage quickly sobered her. She thrust her arm out as she whispered,

“Mana Zone: Mana Hands.”

A swarm of invisible hands materialized all around her and one of them quickly brought her sword to her as she picked herself off of the wall.

Aika took in the sight of her opponent who wielded enough strength to punch her that hard.

A young man whose hood covered half of his face, smirked at her as a slight young woman stood next him, wearing a familiar mask framed by flowing blonde hair that spilled out from either side of her, swaying in the wind as she held up a bow, ready to shoot.

Aika had to look twice as her eyes went wide. It seemed like a bizarre dream when the mask stared back at her. It was the same archer who broke her amulet.

Her hand curled around the hilt of her sword.

And they had some nerve coming back to face her head-on.

Notes: There's a fight scene the next chapter and we see Fuegoleon!! WOOO so I'm excited for that🥰 Also, yes, Sal already knew her because the previous Wizard King refreshed his memory in detail but he was just messing around with Aika LMAO

[oujochan]

Ace suddenly intrudes on Alice and Blood‘s tea party with a bag of sweets to give to Alice.

This Spade no Kuni no Alice Short Story was published in the April ‘21 edition of B’s log.

Thanks harroe for the HQ pic! My translation is below the cut.

Sweet Love, Beloved Bitterness

“A present for me?”

Alice blinks blankly at the small paper bag pointed her way.

“Ahaha, you don’t have to be so weirded out! It’s not strange for me to gift you something is it?”

Ace is smiling as ever as he hands over the present.

The bag is small enough to hold in one hand and decorated with a simple seal and ribbon.

The logo appears to be from a bakery in Hatter Territory. That must mean there’s baked goodies inside.

I notice a sweet fragrance wafting from the bag. I think I’m on the right track but...

“This is so weird. What’s going on?”

“Agreed. Why are you even here in the first place?” Blood muses, sitting across from Alice.

He’s calm, but not ready to go with the flow. His brows are furrowed.

I agree with Blood.

We are in the garden of Hatter Estate. Blood invited me to a tea party. Then all of a sudden Ace waltzes into enemy territory.

I have a billion questions, like what is he doing here? How did he even get in? And what on earth are the twin gate keepers doing? But more importantly, why did Ace randomly give me a present? Nothing makes sense.

“I don’t agree with all the dubious looks my way, but the reason I’m here is simple! I got lost.” He answers matter of factly without minding Alice’s confusion or the dismay on Blood’s face. Blood further knits his brow.

“A blind man could tell you that, what I’m asking is why you felt the need to come over here anyway all things considered.”

Teacup in hand, Blood glares sharply at Ace without hiding his annoyance.

“Right now she and I are spending precious time together. I invited her- and only her.”

“I see. So simply put you’re calling me a third wheel.”

“Wonderful. You have enough sense to understand that despite being directionally challenged. Did the notion of going back so you wouldn’t get in our way ever cross your mind?”

“Ahaha, too bad! The word ‘going back’ doesn’t exist in my dictionary! After all that’s not manly at all! A knight must always move forward no matter what! Right?” Beaming brightly, he looks to Alice for support.

“No, there are times where even I think it’s better to go back. Even if we don’t count right now, there are times when it’s definitely necessary.”

“Whaaat? Not you too~” His exaggerated disappointment is almost theatric.

“I’m shocked! Despite all the time you spend floundering in indecision aren’t you the one who can’t go back more than anyone else? Isn’t that why you always look back while moving forward?”

“What...?”

(What is he talking about?)

I’m confused by the vagueness of his words, but as if to interrupt my thoughts Blood opens his mouth once more.

“Enough of this trifling conversation. If you really can only move forward then you should keep heading that way. Hurry up and get out.”

He points outside the garden- it’s in front of Ace, but the gate is the other way.

“Oh how scary. I’m not in the best mood either, but this isn’t like you at all, Mr. Hatter. It’s not like you to be so pressed.”

“......”

“Haha. Have you stopped pretending to play it cool? Well, it has been a long time since you’ve seen her again.”

“Tch.”

(...huh)

For second Alice doubted her ears. But there was no mistaking the obvious look of displeasure on Blood’s face and that click of his tongue from earlier.

It really wasn’t like Blood at all. It was the first time she saw his emotions so out in the open. Even if Ace was Blood’s enemy and an unexpected intruder, Blood usually handled things more smoothly.

“If Mr. Hatter is being serious, he could be a real challenge. Not that that’s a reason to back off.”

“Oh what a coincidence. The word “back off” doesn’t exist in my dictionary either.” Blood says, picking up his trusty stick by his side.

“Normally I’d prefer not do anything to spoil a tea party, but if the nuisance won’t leave then so be it.”

“Wait...Blood?!”

Alice unintentionally raises her voice when the stick begins to emit a pale light.

“Quit it! Are you trying to start a gun fight?!”

(Wait, Ace uses a sword so it wouldn’t be a shoot out, but I don’t want a fight happening either way!)

“Don’t worry, Alice. I’m not going to do that now.” Surprisingly it’s not Blood’s voice, but Ace’s.

“Even I wouldn’t cut someone up right in front of the eyes of the person I gave a present too! If I did that my special gift would be covered in blood!”

(Doesn’t that mean Ace still wants to stab Blood later?!)

Should I be scared or relieved for now...?

“Anyway, let’s stop, Mr. Hatter. Now’s not the time.”

“Then get out of my sight before I turn you into Swiss cheese.” Despite his callous words the light from Blood’s stick fades.

“OK, OK I got it! The party crasher is leaving now~!” Ace is the only one who’s still all smiles. Without a care, he starts heading in the same direction Blood was pointing to earlier.

“Wait, what about this?” Alice realizes with a gasp and calls out to Ace’s back.

“What’s this present for?” The present still in hand, she’s uncertain about accepting something without understanding the meaning behind it.

“Like I said, it’s yours! I bought it for you after passing by a shop that smelled especially good, but I didn’t think I’d get to hand it over so quickly.” Ace stops in place, peering over his shoulder to answer. “If you need a reason then it’s to celebrate our reunion! The sweets are sure to be delicious, so eat up!”

It might’ve taken a lot of luck to meet again, but is that really all there is to it? As usual, she’s not sure she should take Ace’s words at face value despite his cheerful demeanor. No, that’s precisely the reason why.

Without waiting for Alice’s response, Ace begins to leave.

Panic rising, she tries to call out again, but Blood’s pointed glare stops her in her tracks and all she can do is to watch him off silently.

(I ended up taking it...)

She stares at the paper bag containing sweets.

“More confections are the absolute last thing we need,” Blood scoffs, visibly irked.

“Yeah... you’re right.“

There are already a large array of various sweets prepared by Blood spread out on the table.

The sweets Ace gave must be decadent and delicious too, but somehow feel bittersweet. I have the feeling that if I take a bite inside of what looks to be a sugary chocolate bonbon it’ll contain something wildly unexpected.

“Don’t open those yet. Not here. ”

“Yes... I know.”

But Blood doesn’t say ‘don’t eat those’. It seems no one can restrict an Outsider’s choice or decisions. That’s something even the ‘me’ right now knows by heart. This world isn’t only filled with sweet things. Whether I eat it or not... avoid the poison or swallow it down, is completely up to me.

[rhaenyratargeryn]

A Series of Firsts, pt. I (Crow x f!guardian)

Rating: T

Summary: First confessions, first drink, first kiss. All in one.

It was hard to pinpoint the exact moment her perspective shifted. It was one thing to say, when you awake as a guardian, whomever you were in your past life is gone, and another to put it into practice.

Especially when you knew the person that guardian had been in the very recent past.

Especially when you were the reason that person had died.

Of all the things Crow had learned (mostly against his will) about who he was before he awoke to the Light, that was one thing she was glad he had not discovered.

Which was a whole other mess for her mind and her heart to work out. It was hard enough at the start seeing the face of the man who she had hunted, had chased over the stars with hatred in her heart and revenge in her hands. Hands that had fired the Ace of Spades into Uldren Sov until he breathed no more.

Uldren had been proud. Haughty. A prince in his status and his manner.

And now this man who wore his face was hissing at having scorched his fingertips on the crackling campfire after adding a log. He sheepishly blew on them as Glint shook his small chassis with a chiding air.

“I told you to use a smaller log.”

“By all means, show me how it is done, Sparky.”

Glint couldn’t scowl, but the way his edges tightened and he groaned said well enough that he hated the endearment.

“That’s what I thought.” Crow said with a grin, catching her eye as she watched him. The expression softened, his voice lowering, “How’s it coming?”

Right. She was supposed to be mixing up the stew. Pulled from her thoughts, she returned to stirring, mixing packets of dried vegetable and meat rations into the stock that was, in truth, mostly water. It was a typical meal for guardians on the ground. And… well, despite Zavala having learned of Crow’s real identity, it was too risky still to have him walking around the tower.

He’d needed to “get out and stretch his wings” as he called it, and so here she was. Camped out in the EDZ with the Lightbringer formerly known as Uldren Sov. The man she had killed. And now the man she was stupidly, and irreversibly already half in love with.

There had been moments. Lots of moments. Too many moments.

First she’d thought the affection stemmed from the fact he looked up to her. Just another new Lightbearer with an awed respect for the Young Wolf, Hero of the Red War, the “Chosen One”… it wasn’t like she had set out to be any of those things. She had just done what needed to be done. She recalled she told him that once and he had chuckled with such… fondness. His voice pitching low then as it did now or whenever they were alone.

Like their conversations were a secret. His words for her ears alone.

She set the pot over the flame on it’s hanger, noting that despite Glint’s criticisms, the flame was high enough and hot enough to use.

“You seem distracted tonight.” Crow said, letting his hood fall back. Even in the dark his eyes glowed faintly, the color of a sunrise.

She told herself the shiver that ran up and down her arms was from the chill in the air.

“I’ve never been a talker.” She said and settled back down next to him. It was near enough that one of them only had to reach out to touch the other. It would be too obvious to move now, she thought with a silent curse, frowning to herself.

“Is that so?” Crow said, his voice so earnest that for a moment she didn’t realize he was teasing her until she looked up and saw the faint smile on his lips.

Her traitorous heart skipped. Where was her Ghost? For that matter, where was Glint? They had both been here a moment ago.

“I thought… well… I thought maybe you were regretting bringing me along. I can’t say that last shot at the Fallen was my best moment.”

She had nearly forgotten. It was a small skirmish, something she could have easily taken solo. A Captain had swiped in close, nearly taking her arm off with his sword. Crow’s shot had missed, but it had forced the Captain back, giving her enough time to dispatch the Fallen herself. She had been surprised, but hadn’t given it more thought than that.

But now, in the dim light, she could see the same expression on Crow’s face he had worn when he came down from his perch and helped her bandage the shallow wound. It hadn’t been embarrassment, or even quite disappointment… but something else. Something deeper.

“It still saved me a very uncomfortable rez.” She said and the Crow just nodded, his brow pinched slightly as he cast his eyes aside. She turned, tilting her head to try to get back into his line of sight.

“Hey, I mean it. I would have regretted not bringing you along. This is so much better than being off on my own.”

Surprise flashed over his features, a deeper shade of indigo spreading across his cheeks. She suddenly found herself wishing a Taken portal would open up and swallow her whole. She turned away before he could see the same flush spread over her own face.

“… I agree.” Crow said and she risked another look over at him. He was smiling.

“One nice thing about being out of Spider’s lair— well, one of the nice things— I get to see you more often.”

She didn’t know what to say. The silence between them was only broken by the faint chirping of insects, the crackle of the fire and the faint bubbling sound of their dinner. Crow was looking at his hands, fidgeting with his gloves and picking at the fabric.

“Anyway. I appreciate that you humor a kinderguardian like me.” Crow began, his voice tinged with forced humor to hide the deprecation, “Letting me tag along—“

“I like it too.” She said, the words coming out so fast it came out more as “liketoo” than a comprehensive sentence.

The Crow had stopped fidgeting. The insects and the fire were overloading her senses again.

“… I really respect you. As a guardian, as a comrade. And… And I like to think of you as a friend.” Crow continued, “…and I like to think of you.”

He stopped.

“You like to think of me as—?” She prompted, breath held in her lungs.

He smiled, “That’s all. I like to think of you.”

Oh.

Oh.

Crow’s confession had brought a permanent heat to his cheeks, his expression softening as if he were marveling that he managed to even get the words out. She was marveling them too. Or more like, feeling her thoughts collapse inward on themselves like a black hole.

“What... um. What does that mean?” She said, feeling dumb and fumbling and definitely not like someone with the title of “Godslayer”.

“I… “ he began, but whatever it was that had slipped forward was beginning to retreat once more, “…well, I… it’s… just a sentiment I suppose.”

It was now or never.

“I think about you too. Often. A lot. I think about you a lot. And… I know I’m this ‘role model’ and thought of as this untouchable big damn hero and everyone— no. Look. The point is, me too.”

To his credit, the Crow listened to her outburst with quiet attentiveness, even nodding once or twice in understanding.

“It just seems impossible.” He said at last, shrugging slightly, “I can’t imagine why someone like you—”

“Don’t look at the pedestal.” She said, her voice firm, “Just look at me. C’mon, you’ve seen how I eat. I talk in my sleep too, I know I do. I never clean my guns right and I’ve had half a dozen sparrow related rezes because I’m a shitty driver.”

That last one got a laugh.

“So let’s just focus on the win here, yeah? You like me.” She waited until the Crow picked up on the prompt and he nodded, confirming it, “And I like you. Now it’s out there.”

Crow let out a breath that turned into a nervous laugh, “It’s definitely out there.”

When it became apparent neither one of them knew how to go on, there was a soft sigh from somewhere nearby. Glint and her own Ghost glided out from the trees, coming to perch near their guardians.

“And what were you two doing?” Crow said, clearly relieved for a subject change.

“Oh, just— just patrolling.” Glint said hurriedly, earning what could be imagined was a wry look from her own Ghost. He turned that look on her then as if he were exasperated with her for something.

She had a funny feeling why the pair had left them alone.

—-

A day had become a week and then a week had easily fallen into the next. Devrim had even radioed in at one point to tell them to “leave some for the rest of us” after the fourth Fallen patrol they had decimated.

They worked well together, the awkwardness of the night before fading into routine. It surprised her how natural such a foreign concept like touch was to them. A bump on the shoulder with a closed fist, a silent congratulations for a good shot. The brush of their hands when they passed ammo or a water canteen. The touch of his arm, brushing against her own perhaps every thirteenth of a second when they walked too close together.

Even at the campfire they slowly had begun to draw nearer and nearer, their orbit closing in on the other. His, with an innocent like curiosity. Her own interest decidedly less innocent, but also still— cautious. She felt the pull of his light, new and bright. Her own had not shimmered so in a long time… he was naive, young and rash. He needed looking after, not another responsibility. The point driven even further home now by the way he teetered unsteadily even sitting.

Devrim had sent a patrol over to meet them with fresh supplies. One of them being a bottle of something he called “Gulchshine” which, judging by the smell, was maybe only one molecule away from pure ethanol. Crow hadn’t drank since he was revived. Which was the same as saying he’d never drank before at all.

“This is disgusting. I can’t stop drinking it.” Crow said, his voice not so much slurred as it was relaxed. Open and unguarded.

“What is that? Is that lemon? Or is it just my taste buds dying?”

“It… definitely seems like lemon.” She said, giving a tiny sip to the cup in her own hand. There was a citrus like bite beneath the taste of rubbing alcohol, but it was not near sweet or sour enough to mask the bitterness of the clear liquid.

“Like someone whispering the word ‘lemon’ from another room.” Crow murmured and took another sip, a shudder going over him as he swallowed. He brought the bottle to his lips again and with a chuckle, she leaned nearer and said in a soft voice,

“Lemon."

Crow nearly choked on his laugh. It was a nice sound, one she didn’t hear often enough from him.

“That exactly.” He said after he’d caught his breath, turning towards her with a grin. The smile faded at the realization of how close they were. His eyes half-closed and dreamy in their regard as he lifted a hand up to brush back a strand of hair from her face.

She could smell the alcohol on his warm breath, the moss of the greenery around them, the fresh air… could feel the warmth from the Earth beneath them and from his hand on her cheek. She reached out, holding him by the chin to keep him in place as she leaned forward and pressed a kiss, as faint as the sweet taste of citrus, on his lips.

She had not expected to do that. She equally did not expect him to curl his hand behind her head and pull her in, his mouth already open for another kiss which she happily provided. Crow groaned, an involuntary and needful sound.

Desperation. She could taste it in his kiss, in the way he tentatively returned the soft touch of her tongue, inexperienced but so eager to learn. To feel. He craved it in every gasp, every pull of his fingers through her hair. He wanted to be touched— with tenderness, with kindness. His body lit with it, his breathing fast and quick and his touch edging towards rough in its eagerness. Like he couldn’t get close enough. A wanting so strong and so foreign and yet familiar. She felt him struggle with it— with his body knowing vaguely what it wanted but his mind struggling to keep up.

So she guided him. Over and over. Kissing not just his lips but the highpoint of his cheek and the juncture where his jaw met his neck. She let her teeth rasp over his pulse, thready and rapid at his throat and relished in the way he shivered. She wasn’t sure when she had been settled into his lap, only that she enjoyed the way it made her just a fraction taller.

They were wearing too many clothes. She wanted to touch him, to run her hands over every expanse of his skin until he remembered her touch more than he remembered any bullet or beam or weapon that had ever struck him. The sudden movement of her hands to the hem of his shirt had an immediate sobering effect, his body going rigid beneath her.

“… too fast.” She said, nodding half at her self. She let her hands slide back up, resting her arms around his shoulders. Crow swallowed thickly and she repressed the urge to kiss his neck all over again.

“I’ve never— I mean, not that I remember…”

It made perfect sense. His uncertainty mixed with certainty. Moments of lucidness where he no doubt remembered past lovers, past kisses, and then for them to fade like starlight from his grasp. Despite the confession, the Crow didn’t look daunted, his hands still clutching to her waist.

“Do you want to stop?” She asked, shifting her weight back.

“I…“ Crow paused, his pupils blown wide, an eclipse on a sunset sky, “… I just want to touch you. Is… is that okay?”

“That’s okay.” She said, pressing a kiss to his jaw and relishing in the way he relaxed beneath her hands. His arms held her so tightly, their ribs pressed together hard enough for there to be a faint spark of pain. She didn’t care.

His fingers had found a spot beneath her collar, seeking out the soft skin at the nape of her neck. She turned her cheek against his, pressing and rubbing her lips against him more than actually kissing. Crow seemed dazed, a soft hum coming from his throat as she felt his eyelashes brush against her skin, his eyes closing.

“Is everyone this warm?” He asked, unthinking, “Sorry— weird question.”

“Probably has something to do with the Gulchshine.”

She pulled back, placing her hands on either side of his face and noting the warmth radiating from his skin.

“You’re flushed down your neck.” She said, observing the darker blue color that bloomed out over his skin.

“I’m not that drunk.”

She rose an eyebrow.

“I didn’t say I wasn’t drunk, just not that drunk.”

“So is this for me then?”

He didn’t answer, a sputter dying in his throat as he shook his head.

“I lied. I’m drunk.”

She laughed and kissed him again, just to be sure and he breathed into it like she was the very air he needed. An arm around her waist, his hand tangled in her hair, he followed her kiss by kiss, learning his own rhythm and occasionally trying something new. Discovering how he liked to kiss her. How he liked to be kissed back. It felt important. It felt special. These things only heightening the very intimacy of the act.

She’d never felt this way just from kissing someone before. Something she imagined they had in common.

“... if I knew it felt this good, I would have done it a long time ago.”

“You really are drunk.”

He made a questioning noise, his mouth too busy testing out the way she has kissed his neck on her own. He licked a long line up to her jaw. She had definitely not shown him that.

“People are more honest when they are drunk.” She clarified, her words veering towards breathless

“Glitch might have mentioned it.”

At the mention of the ghosts, both guardians froze, eyes drifting to where the two lights were perched, watchful but silent nearby.

They had forgotten they were there.

Oh god they had forgotten they were there.

“Don’t mind us.” Her own Ghost said, voice filled with dry amusement.

[clair-void-ance]

Richard Hayden Fluff Alphabet

 Pairing: Richard Hayden x Reader

Word Count: Roughly 3,180 words

Author’s note: Hey! This is definitely something I didn’t expect to write lmao. I haven’t been in a writing mood lately, but after getting into David Spade again I knew I had to throw something together. Good news though! That means that I’m finally motivated to work on my other WIP’s! So expect those requests to be finished soon :)) Your girl threw this together pretty fast ngl, so hopefully it doesn’t suck lmaoo

A ctivities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

If there is anything that Richard loves to do, it’s activities that leans more on the physical side. As much as he loves academic pursuits, he can get tired of trying to maintain the persona of ‘the bookworm/nerd.’ When it comes to activities he enjoys doing with you, it really just depends on what type of person you are. If it’s physical, his go to activities include fixing up vintage cars, dancing, cycling, painting, and whatever else you enjoy doing. If it’s more mental, then he enjoys laying back, reading, doing crafts, or learning something new with you.

B eauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

If their is one thing that Richard admires about you physically, it’s your hair and eyes. Being a person interested in astrology, Richard knows that the eyes and hair can tell a lot about a person’s personality and self. And your’s show a person with a breathtaking personality. 

And something that he really loves about you is your ability to be accepting, creative, passionate, and unabashedly yourself. You never failed to accept all parts of him, whether they were good or bad. And when you figured out the situation with this hair, you never once faltered on your love and acceptance for him. Which he appreciates more than you know. 

C omfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

Richard has definitely been at some low points in his life. Whether it be with his career, personality, or looks, he's been through it all. So if there's something be knows well, it's definitely a person in dire need of love and support.

When you're feeling down Richard focuses on the main thing you need at the moment. As much as he wants to listen and be supportive, he first has to deal with your body's needs. Having an anxiety attack? Do some breathing exercises, ground yourself, and take a bite of a lemon. Chest pain and irritable stomach from holding in all your negative emotions? Take a second to dance, cry, and release the negative thoughts. Then, when all that is said and done, he'll sit down with you and figure out the best way to solve your problems.

D reams -  How do they picture their future with their s/o?

Being a small town, settle down type, Richard has always seen you two having a small wedding with all your loved ones followed by having a few children. Although he never really planned to find 'the one,' you turned his life around and showed him that he is good and secure enough to finally start living the life he always wanted. And now that he knows you'll love him forever (hair or no hair), he's confident in the quiet life you'll soon live.

E qual - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or are they rather passive?

As much as he wants to be dominant and feel in control in the relationship, we all know his scrawny ass could never 😔. And we all know he would love to have someone dominate him. That being said, he loves the challenge that comes with both of you fighting for dominance. But he’s more than willing to calm down and allow you to take control more often than not. 

F ight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How is their fighting?

Being the prick he is, especially with his mars in aries, it will definitely take Richard a while to calm down and discuss arguments with your. While fighting, he is vicious and acts like a wounded animal. None of it is really intentional, he just gets too heated too fast and gets caught up in his emotions. That, added to an inability to express his emotions properly at the moment he feels them, makes him a bit difficult in fights. 

That being said, once he calms down and feels the guilt of his actions he immediately comes back to you and spews out an apology. If your fight was especially bad, he’ll end up setting up a nice dinner for both of you and let out a heartfelt apology. He loves you with everything he has in him, but he’s still dealing with processing and expressing a variety of feelings (plus he’s a man lmao).  

G ratitude - How grateful are they they in general? Are they aware of what there s/o is doing for them?

With his string of luck and life choices, Richard is very grateful for all of the good things he has in his life; especially you. He understands first hand how fast life can turn sour, so he doesn’t take a second of his life for granted once he meets you. 

He knows how much effort you’ve put into y’alls relationship and is aware of how much of impact you’ve had on his life and personality. And for everything that you do, he is deeply appreciative. And he tries to return that energy back to you 100% every day you two are together. 

H onesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

After you figured out his secret about his hair, he knew that he could trust you with everything else. The only thing that he keeps to himself really are secrets that deal with surprises for you. Besides that, he shares relatively everything that concerns him.

I nspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

In a way, you both change different aspects of each other; while Richard makes you more sarcastic and ambitious, you make Richard more laid back and wholesome. But when you mix, there seems to be a harmonious balance of the perfect personality. 

Furthermore, you help each other work through personal trauma and make sure that the other isn’t falling into a bought of negative emotions. That strengthens your relationship while also making you both better versions of yourself. 

J ealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

Being the sarcastic prick and insecure person he is, Richard is definitely someone who gets jealous easily. To him, you could have anyone you wanted; someone with hair, a better build, and definitely with a better personality. And when he sees you with a man that possess all of those things, he tends to get pretty jealous. 

But he never takes that out on you. He knows that you would never cheat on him or avoid communicating your intentions. When a situation like this comes up, he usually takes a moment to contemplate his insecurities, stews in it for while, then brings it up to you. When that’s all said and done though, you both usually curl up and remind each other how much you both love and appreciate each other. 

K iss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like? + 

L ove Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

Overall, Richard is actually a pretty decent kisser. He moves in just the right ways and knows how to avoid being excessive. Additionally, with the love that he puts behind every kiss, he makes you feel loved and appreciated with every languid motion. 

The first kiss you two shared was after a company party when you took him home to watch a movie. You both got bored of waiting around and doing nothing at the party, so you left to do something more fun together. After sitting on the opposite ends of your couch, you both started to slowly inch closer and closer to each other. By the time you both started cuddling together, he felt as though the time was perfect to lean in and risk it all. 

And when he gripped your chin, pulled you in, and placed a slow kiss to your lips, you both knew that you wanted to turn this official. 

That being said, he still wanted your consent on if things would truly turn official or not. After letting out a whispered confession of love to you, you both thought it wise to discuss your newly developed relationship. 

M arriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? 

Getting married is a definite for Richard. He doesn’t care what kind of wedding it is or when it happens, he just wants everybody to know that you’re his and that he’s yours. 

Not one to be overly dramatic or public about an important moment, Richard proposes to you while you two are on a camping trip together in the mountains. You had both just woken up and began drinking your coffee on a log by one of the lookouts. With the rising sun hitting your eyes an hair in all the right points, he knew that he had to propose; it was the perfect moment. Not even his nerves could prevent him from doing it.

N icknames - What do they call their s/o?

With this man’s wit and sarcasm, he never fails to have new and creative nicknames for you. Usually though, your nicknames depend on the type of mood he’s feelilng.

Sarcastic? My sweet turtle dove. Affectionate? Sweetheart. Playful? Sugar/Angel Face.

It just depends :)

O n Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

When in love, Richard can act like a wistful and love-struck romantic. From afar, Richard can be seen sending you longing and affectionate looks. Furthermore, when you two are near each other, people pick up the way he always drifts really close to you and continuously reaches towards your hand.

While he has a tendency to act aloof and uncaring, Richard does make it a priority to tell you how much he loves you (as well as how radiant you look to him) at least twice a day. He never wants you to feel as though he doesn’t think you are anything less than deserving of all the love you can handle. Even if you two fight, he always puts aside his pride and remembers to tell you that he loves you. 

P DA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

When it comes to PDA at the beginning of you two’s relationship, Richard wasn’t too much of a fan. He was still stuck in the mindset that he had a reputation to uphold; he couldn’t be seen being soft and mushy, he had to be suave and respectable. But as you guys’ relationship progresses he begins to appreciate showing you love no matter the situation. 

If you were to ask one of his coworkers on how he’s changed since being with you, they would definitely point out the fact that he has softened up considerably. He doesn’t care too much about his ‘reputation’ as much since he only focuses on showing you affection during the moments where it fits. By the time you two create a well-rounded relationship, he begins to casually brag about you and how you are the most fantastic significant other anyone could meet. It gets a little annoying, but people find it endearing do a certain extent. (it’s still Richard we’re talking about here lmao)

Q uirk - Some random ability they have that's beneficial in a relationship

He understands astrology and a few other personalty based aspects of people, so he acknowledges all of your quirks down to a ‘T.’ He knows your communication style, love language, argument method, preferences, etc. just by a birth date and a few other factors. 

That being said, he also knows what things are particularly difficult to you, which helps when you aren’t able to communicate how you’re feeling on most occasions. (He has yet to learn how to solve his own problems with this quirk though)

R omance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

Once Richard knows that you love and support him unconditionally, he becomes the sappiest, most romantic person you’ve ever met. Although he has his cliché moments, Richard is usually creative with his methods on making you happy or keeping your relationship interesting. Most of which have to do with the office where you two work *wink* *wink*

S upport - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

Being a man of high ambition and deep respect, Richard would love to help you reach your goals; no matter how big they seem. Especially if you are the same way with him. 

He knows how much success and respect can mean to a person, so he will do anything to help you achieve the things you want. One aspect that he likes most about you guys’ relationship, is that you both constantly work towards bettering each other. He believes that you were both meant for great things. And if you associate great things with living off-grid and become self-sustainable, then he’ll help you achieve that. 

T hrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice up your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

Richard appreciates a sense of routine in his life and relationship- especially when it comes to his well-being. But this is mainly linked to his underlying trauma from childhood and career. Not that he’ll ever admit this though, he’s got a reputation to maintain.

He’s never really been given the opportunity to feel free enough to be himself and act childish. It was always, ‘act too mature and professional’ or ‘be cold, distant, and ambitious.’ When you came along though, he finally felt secure enough to open up and be himself. Which, of course, led to trying new things in your relationship. He’s down to try anything if it makes you happy; cause when you’re happy, he’s happy. 

U nderstanding - How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

Deep down, Richard is not the most empathetic person. He’s had to rely on himself for almost his entire life, so being able to read and cater to another person isn’t the easiest for him. Reading social cues on the other hand, is. That being said, his love for you runs deep and he’s willing to just about anything to make you happy. He’ll take notice of the little things you like and the gestures you’ve come to appreciate, and repeats those. 

Additionally, he understands that you aren’t responsible for his healing. He knows that he is responsible for a huge majority of it, so he takes note of your empathetic nature and uses it to heal not only himself, but you as well. 

When that’s all said and done, Richard comes to learn a lot about both of you and shocks all of his associates with how close you two have become over the years. 

V alue - How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?

Richard values your relationship as much as he values air. Which definitely says something. The man doesn’t care that much about anything when it comes down to it (publicly that is), but he does care for you. And his is willing to quit his job, move across the globe, or do anything you wish just so that he can make you happy for even a second.

After he met you, nothing really mattered as much as you guys’ relationship. To him, those things were put on the back burner and wait. As Charles Aznavour sang, “Me, I'll take her laughter and her tears; And make them all my souvenirs; For where she goes I've got to be. The meaning of my life is she.”

W ild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon

Richard has actually always wanted to have a child. Since he never had a father present in his life and repressed his inner child, he has always wanted to prove that he was better than his parents. That being said, he’d love to have a little girl over a son. Mainly because he knows she will bring out the softer side in him.

All in all, he just wants to nurture and care for a child that he knows will grow up to have a stunning personality and life. 

X OXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

At heart, Richard is a man with a deep, passionate, and affectionate nature. He loves being close to you and enjoys laying back and spending some personal time together. He loves all sorts of kisses he receives from you. Whether they be short and sweet or long and languid, he loves them all. 

When it comes to the long and languid ones though, he loves to do them while you’re cuddling together. 

Is it because he knows it’ll lead to something more? Maybe....but he’ll never admit that. 

Plus, sometimes he just like being held so he knows he’s cared for.

Y earning - How do they cope when they're missing their partner?

Let's be honest, Richard can become a bit of a prick when you're not around. Since you both work together, everyone notices the day's where you’re absent; cause his toxic energy goes through the roof. Although he isn't insufferable, he definitely reverts back to his sarcastic and aggressive method of communicating and acting. But he can't really help it; (his mars is in scorpio 🙄 jk jk lmao) he doesn't have someone around to treat him right y'know? When he's alone though, he tends to get a bit melancholic and revert to sitting around and waiting for you. It isn't his proudest moment in life, but he’s trying to get used to the fact that you might not always be there. With that in mind, he copes the best way he knows how: by occupying his mind. Which is usually by working on his cars or cycling.

Z eal - Are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship? If so, what kind?

Similar to his career and the things he aspires to do in life, you are something that Richard will go great lengths for. Although Richard knows when to quit, committing to a task is something that isn’t unfamiliar to him. He will work night and day to please you and keep you happy. 

Need him to take the day off to help you with a task or take care of you? Done with no hesitation. Need more emotional support because of recent events? He’ll drop everything in seconds. To him, nothing is worth ruining the relationship you two have worked so hard for. 

[confused-android]

Day 15 - Dirk Youth

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

The first time Svlad gets two activities right in a row, Colonel Riggins gives him a square of chocolate. He knows what chocolate is – his mother had brought it home sometimes, when he still lived with her – and he feels so excited to have earned it that he thanks the colonel repeatedly. It's already softening in his fingers, the edges smudging against his skin, but he waits to be told that he can eat before raising it to his lips. It's so sweet and startling that his eyes tear up, even though he is nine years old and doesn't cry.

That last part is a lie. Svlad cries at night, most nights. But it's under his blanket, so the cameras and guards can't see, and he tells himself that means it doesn't count.

He doesn't have a calendar ("we don't want to impede your progress with worrying about anything else, Svlad"), but he thinks it's been almost a year since Colonel Riggins brought him to Blackwing, to learn how to fix all of the things that are wrong with him. He bid his mother goodbye, endured her fixing his hair one last time, when it was spring; from the narrow windows above the recreation area, Svlad's watched it turn to summer and fall and winter, and now it's been several weeks since the snow melted.

He knows he's doing really well. Colonel Riggins tells him so, sometimes, and so do his teachers.

His teachers are… strange. Or maybe it's his classes that are strange. He's the only one in most of his classes, and he's not learning facts about history or English or maths. It seem more like they're experimenting on him than teaching him, but Colonel Riggins says that isn't true, that's silly, and that he has to respect his teachers, so Svlad does. Svlad will do anything Colonel Riggins says, if it means that he'll learn how to fix all of the things that are wrong with him and that he can go back to his mother and they won't get kicked out any council housing for stealing cats he didn't steal, or kicked out of school for cheating on tests he didn't cheat on.

Svlad is really hopeful that it will work. Colonel Riggins promised him that it will, though, so he sits through his strange classes and learns all of the weird ways to think and behave that his teachers tell him to.

For the last few weeks, he's been trying extra hard in the activity where he's supposed to sort cards into the right order without looking at their faces. Not that he wasn't trying extra hard before that! He was, he really was. He'd closed his eyes and scrunched up his forehead and thought really hard about them ending up in the right order, just like the teacher told him to. But now he's trying differently hard. Scrunching up his face and thinking about the cards in the right order hasn't been working, so now he's trying it his way.

He's not supposed to do anything his way, Colonel Riggins says. His way got him lost cats and answer cards he shouldn't have and jewelry that his mother says she didn't know she's lost. His way is trouble. But what if his way also means he does the classroom activity successful? Does that mean it's bad?

So he scrunches up his forehead and pretends to be thinking really hard about the correct order of a deck of cards while he's shuffling them. But instead, he thinks about the cat that he saw sitting on the narrow windowsill, high above the recreation room. He thinks about its dirty paws, and how it had closed its eyes in the sun and licked one paw for a very, very long time, until it was clean. Then the cat had taken that clean paw and cleaned one of its ears for a long time. By the time Svlad was finished with his thirty minutes on the stationary bike, the cat had one clean paw and one clean ear, and was beginning to work on the other ear. Svlad thinks about that cat, and how the soft grey color had emerged from beneath the dingy grey color, and lets his hands do whatever they want to do with the cards. He's so focused on thinking about the cat that when the buzzer goes off, marking the end of his five minutes, it's startling, and he jumps.

"Deck," says Lt. Andrews, sounding as bored as ever, and Svlad hands it over, blinking his way back into awareness, the cat already fading from his memory. Lt. Andrews turns the deck over, pen in his other hand, ready to mark it down as another failed test, but then he freezes. His eyes widen and he puts the pen down and spreads the deck out on the table, and Svlad is as astonished as Lt. Andrews is.

The deck isn't in order-order, but all of the aces are together, and then all of the twos and the threes and so on, all the way up to the kings. The jokers book end the deck, laughing at the fifty-two cards in between. Svlad says "oh."

Lt. Andrews gathers up the deck and spreads it out a second time, as if the order of the cards will change if he looks again, but they're still in the same places when he fans them out. "Stay there, Project Icarus," Lt. Andrews says, and Svlad does, lacing his fingers together and swinging his feet as patiently as he can. He can't wait until his feet touch the floor in the classroom chairs. Lt. Andrews walks to the door and hits the intercom button and says, "Gupta."

The intercom crackles for a moment, and then Lt. Gupta (who walks Svlad to and from classes and meals and recreation) says, "issue, Andrews?"

"Radio for the Colonel. Tell him we've got a successful trial, room A12."

"I know what room you're in," Lt. Gupta says, annoyed, but Svlad can hear the shriek of the radio before he takes his finger off the intercom.

Lt. Andrews comes back to the table, gathers up the cards one more time, and sets the deck carefully to one side. To show Colonel Riggins, Svlad supposes. He pulls out a second deck, shuffles it quickly (his hands are shaking. Svlad wonders why), and hands it to Svlad. "Again," he says, more brusque than usual. "Exactly the same as you just did. Concentrate."

Svlad knows that Lt. Andrews thinks he did it like he was told. To visualize each card in the order it belongs, and to will the cards to match his perception of reality. But he doesn't do that this time either. Instead, he thinks about the groove under his bed, the one that he's carved slowly over the last many months with his dinner fork each night. It's long and straight-ish, and doesn't actually mean anything, but it's a small change that Svlad can make in his room, all by himself. It's something he's chosen to do, that no one else told him to do. It dulls the edges of the forks a bit, but not enough that anyone has ever said anything to him. Sometimes, he gets one of the forks he's already used once, and he can't carve into the groove that night, worried that two uses will ruin the fork enough that someone will say something, and he won't be allowed to do it anymore. But it's his mark, his groove, and he likes working on it. He thinks about the sensation of dragging the fork further and further each night, extending the mark by millimeters at a time.

While he's shuffling, moving the cards around randomly, he hears the door click softly open and then closed, and he knows that Colonel Riggins is in the room. But he doesn't say anything, so Svlad keeps shuffling and thinking about the feeling of a fork in his hands, and the groove in his bed, until the buzzer goes.

Svlad opens his eyes. "Deck," says Lt. Andrews, and he doesn't sound bored at all. Svlad hands over the deck and rubs his thumbs against his index fingers. He hopes that it worked this time, too.

It did. Lt. Andrews spreads the deck out on the table. This time, the cards are organized by suite, and from kings down to aces. The jokers are right in the middle of the deck, between the spades and the diamonds.

Colonel Riggins whistles, and Lt. Andrews shows him the first deck. He whistles again, and then looks at Svlad. "Well," he says, after a long moment of contemplation. "I see someone's finally started to try."

"I was trying before," Svlad protests, and Colonel Riggins' hand lands on his shoulder, heavy and too-warm.

"And now you're doing it the right way. See, Svlad? I told you that you just need to listen to your teachers." Svlad opens his mouth to protest again, but the colonel's fingers squeeze his shoulder, and it's just a bit too tight. Svlad closes his mouth.

"Come with me," Colonel Riggins says to Svlad, and then he looks at Lt. Andrews. "I'll be taking Icarus now. Mark him off as handed into my care." He carelessly scrawls his initials onto the log-book that Lt. Andrews holds out to him, and pulls Svlad out of the chair and out the door.

Lt. Gupta is slouching against the wall, and snaps to attention when Svlad and Colonel Riggins step into the hall. "Sir," he says.

"Come fetch Icarus from my office at fourteen hundred hours," Colonel Riggins says. "I'll handle transport from here. He'll be back on schedule when you get him."

"Yes, sir." Now Lt. Gupta will have half an hour free. Svlad is a little bit jealous. He only has free time for one hour after lunch, and then after dinner in his room.

Colonel Riggins doesn't take his hand off Svlad's shoulder, and he has to trot to keep up with his strides. It's not that the colonel is a very tall man, but Svlad is a very short boy. His mother told him that he'd grow eventually, that he'd be as tall as she is, or maybe even as tall as his father was, but he's still quite small. By the time they make it to Colonel Riggins' office, Svlad is a bit out of breath, and his armpits are kind of sweaty. He sinks into the chair in front of the desk in relief.

Colonel Riggins sits in his big chair and he looks at Svlad. He looks at him for a while, and it's long enough that Svlad starts to squirm, but he tries his very best to stay still, because Colonel Riggins doesn't like it when he squirms. Finally, though, he stops staring at Svlad, and opens one of the drawers in his desk. He pulls out an opened bar of Hershey's chocolate and breaks off two squares, then hands them to Svlad.

"That was very well done of you, Svlad," he says. His voice is deep and he isn't smiling, but he sounds very happy. Svlad is happy that Colonel Riggins is happy, and he's happy with the small pieces of chocolate that he's holding in his fingers. "I hope you enjoy these, because I want you to know that you've done very well today." Svlad glows, and tries not to squish the chocolate between his fingers, and the colonel says "eat up, m'boy, and so Svlad does. He eats the first one very quickly, and savors the second one, and Colonel Riggins watches him. He looks satisfied, and Svlad is really glad that he did a good job. He hopes he can keep doing a good job, and learn how to fix everything that's wrong with him, and to go home.

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

Link to: day one, Farah - Youth day two, Farah - Dance day three, Farah - Gore day four, Farah - GNC fashion day five, Farah - AU day six, Farah - Family (to be written) day seven, Farah - Pride (to be written) day eight, Todd - Youth (to be written) day nine, Todd - Dance (to be written) day ten, Todd - Gore day eleven, Todd - GNC Fashion day twelve, Todd - AU day thirteen, Todd - Family day fourteen, Todd - Pride (to be written)

prompt list

[japiform]

Logs: Run out of creative titles to use

crepuxulum D »—> Reaching only for the most pathetic of targets, are you @japiform

japiform you think so little of me?

crepuxulum D »—> You’ve given me no evidence otherwise

japiform i could weep from this slanderous talk, like i ain't been a magnanimous, merciful motherfucker at least a few times before

crepuxulum D »—> If you could rattle even two e%amples from that rusty clod of a thoughtsponge I’d be shocked

japiform aight the first one, when i let you go the second one, when i fuckin trekked across the galaxy to save this ungrateful motherfucker's hide how do you think i KNOW he's sleepin?

crepuxulum D »—> Neither of those were mercies D »—> What are you doing to him

japiform hahaha i coulda done worse japiform i'm just patchin him up. helpin ease the tender mercies of her fishiest's most careless touches japiform he's down a limb or four, but he's breathin. not /rottin/ no more. not in motherfuckin /pain/

crepuxulum D »—> I do so loath it when you are intentionally obtuse D »—> You have more to gain from this than a laugh, and I doubt it is the Empress’ favor

japiform hahaha no she's gonna be PISSED but i'm tellin the truth, departed brother mine all i'm doin, the /only thing/ i'm doin, is healin him up

crepuxulum D »—> Why

japiform seemed a shame, to let him fry after he just met his favorite kitten, didn't it? plus, i think he's funny hahaha

crepuxulum D »—> And what happens ne%t, once he awakens D »—> If you decide he is no longer amusing

japiform well, that's up to you and your little kitten bitch, of course

crepuxulum D »—> Do not call her that

japiform whatever pick a name for her, i don't really care

crepuxulum D »—> It’s Survivor, unless three consecutive syllables are too much for you D »—> You aren’t trying to lure us out there

japiform i think i can handle so long a word, expatriate like you'd go for so transparent a trap hahahahaha like /she/ would i ain't stupid :o) i'll just give him to ya

crepuxulum D »—> You do not just D »—> Give things D »—> Not without e%pecting something in return

japiform i'm gettin old, thinkin of turnin over a new leaf or two

crepuxulum D »—> Horsefeathers

japiform no need ta use that kinda language, motherfucker

crepuxulum D »—> I don’t know why I’ve gone beating my skull against a brick wall like this

japiform believe whatever the fuck you want, but i'm only tellin you the truth anyway, show this to your survivor so she knows what's goin on

crepuxulum [Unspeakable terrors. That was a face you haven’t seen in a long, long time, but he’s unmistakable.] D »—> This is a miserable e%cuse of a joke

japiform i don't really understand why you're expectin it to be a joke do i need ta pop a fuckin newspaper on his chest, what's goin on here?

crepuxulum D »—> Letting her believe that he’s dead, keeping him in your custody

japiform i didn't let her believe shit, i didn't know he was gonna spout that shit honestly i was hopin to get him fixed up a little better, make it a nicer surprise motherfucker's makin shit difficult for me unconscious, very on brand for him hahaha

crepuxulum D »—> Despite my centuries of service, janitorial and otherwise, let us say I suddenly believe you D »—> How did you plan on reuniting them, e%actly

japiform lettin you fuckers come up with the plan and politely followin along and not gettin anywhere the fuck near you two cuz i know you'd kill me on sight

crepuxulum D »—> I am going to speak to my spade D »—> And you will no longer harass her

japiform i ain't even done nothin!

crepuxulum D »—> You’ve done enough

japiform yeah yeah go on get your little thrill orderin me around i'll be nice and polite to everyone and not do anythin bad :'o(

crepuxulum D »—> Try that cack on someone else

japiform aight he'll be waitin

crepuxulum D »—> Ugh

------

crepuxulum D »—> Beloathed

aremewkiddingme YES

crepuxulum D »—> I spoke to japiform

aremewkiddingme UNPLEASANT

crepuxulum D »—> Ha, tell me about it D »—> But D »—> He tells me Psiionic is alive, and under his care

aremewkiddingme CAT IS NYOT GOOD MEWS

crepuxulum D »—> He attached this image

aremewkiddingme FURICK

crepuxulum D »—> He told me he willing to just D »—> Give him over, however we plan

aremewkiddingme WHAT

crepuxulum D »—> I do not trust him as far as I cannot throw him, but he seemed D »—> Unusually earnest

aremewkiddingme IS HE CAPAWBLE OF EARNESTNESS???

crepuxulum D »—> Only once in a great, great while, but even then there e%sits some sort of catalyst

aremewkiddingme CATALYST... WHAT COULD PAWSIBLY BE THE CATALYST FUR THIS

crepuxulum D »—> That is what troubles me D »—> He claimed he found the Psiionic D »—> Funny

aremewkiddingme ... I DON'T MEAN TO PURRY BUT DID HE FIND MEW FUNNY?

crepuxulum D »—> He found my long suffering amusing, I’m sure

aremewkiddingme SO... WHAT DOES THIS MEAN, FUR PSIIONIC? CAN MEW EVEN GUESS?

crepuxulum D »—> I think it means he is alive, somehow, and will remain that way D »—> But that we’ve little time to liberate him before boredom sets into his host

aremewkiddingme ... WE HAVE TO GET HIM, THEN RIGHT? ... IF FUR NO OFUR REASON THAN TO GIVE HIM CLAWNTROL OFUR WHAT HAPPAWNS TO HIM

crepuxulum D »—> Of course

aremewkiddingme I DON'T LIKE THIS

crepuxulum D »—> Neighther do I, not when I cannot fathom a motive

aremewkiddingme MAYBE HE INTENDS TO MAKE US GO THROUGH A LOT OF EFFURT, AND THEN... NYOT EVEN FOLLOW THROUGH OR MAYBE PSIIONIC WILL BE MARRED IN SOME WAY PAN WASHED... I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO APAWT THOSE THOUGH, THERE IS CERTAINLY NO WAY TO STOP HIM FUROM DOING KIT... HE HAS A LOT OF PAWER

crepuxulum D »—> He does, and a miserable sense of humor, but he enjoys Psiionic’s D »—> He won’t erase a personality that he can yet wring some enjoyment out of

aremewkiddingme OKAY ... I HOPE HE WAKES UP SOON THEN MAYBE HE COULD TELL US WHAT HE WANTED

crepuxulum D »—> I hope so too

[magicianapprenticelyra]

One Last Time

A/N: At the end of everything, what is a magician of her age to expect to see when her time comes? Upon reaching the other side, who’s waiting for her? Is it her late spouse? Is it one of her dearly departed relatives, of which she’s rekindled relationships with?

Oddly enough, no. It’s someone she’s met before, once upon a dream.

⁂ ⁂ ⁂ ⁂ ⁂

It's strange to see this woman, who was blessed with both luck and misfortune in spades during her life, being so calm in my presence.

She’s staring at me quizzically, blinking as she turns her head this way and that, trying to discern what sort of face I have under my hood.

“Either I am looking into a mirror making me look sixty years younger,” Miss Nguyen chuckles, raising a wrinkled eyebrow, “or you have my face from when I was sixty years younger!“

"I must admit I did not mean to wear your face from your youth," I tell her, holding one hand up, chuckling as I lower my hood with the other.

I am not that much taller than her when we last met; Miss Nguyen’s shrunk since then. Humans have a funny way of doing that when they go gray, fuzzy and wrinkly.

“It was an unintentional thing, I assure you.”

“You’re a funny creature.”

“Thank you, I do my best,” I reply, dipping into a sweeping bow. She laughs at this. Even if she had the image of a grandmother, her laughter still rings the same as when I first encountered her...

"I... I feel like we’ve met before,” Miss Nguyen murmurs, looking me up and down.

"Do you remember at all?" I ask, blinking as I stand upright again.

"No," the magician shakes her head, her silvery-white hairs gently loosening from the messy bun they were in. "However, your presence makes me think you're an Arcana. Granted," she concedes, shrugging, “I’ve only met a few Major Arcana that I remember in all my years. Some I’ve met with more than others. You, on the other hand...”

Miss Nguyen’s hand dips into the purse-belt she wears around her waist. After rummaging around, she retrieves a familiar item: her former teacher’s deck.

It’s been so long; while the edges are worn and more than a few cards have been lovingly bent with all the shuffling, it is a beautiful deck as it ever was.

She remains standing, cards flying between her hands with ease, brows furrowed with concentration. Eventually, she stops, flipping over the topmost card.

“...The Fool,“ she names me.

I smile, trying to ignore the odd tingling sensations fluttering from the top of my head down to my feet.

I’ve missed her. I’ve missed her so much...

"Right you are."

⁂

“I... never expected to me seen off to the other side by an Arcana,” Miss Nguyen admits.

“You do know you’re special, right?” I counter. “You’re certainly not like everyone else.”

We’re having a lunch together. I promised her there was no strings attached with this arrangement: we’re just two friends catching up. We’re at either end of a table; she’s the one doing most of the eating. I never had a taste for anything she likes, but watching her eat is intriguing.

“Where did you go during all that time?” Miss Nguyen asks me, drinking some tea. “I mean... I eventually did figure out I had your body...”

“I don’t know,” I say, astonishing her. “Last I remember, I was with Asra. He was bargaining with me to help get you back and to screw over Lucio, and then poof!” I clap my hands together, startling some of the nearby fauna of my realm. “I am unaware of anything, until... about an hour before you arrived here?”

Time travels differently between the physical and the arcane realms. Who knows how long I was truly waiting?

“...huh.” Miss Nguyen murmurs. She fiddles with the remaining crust of a pastry, once filled with caramelized apples.

Strange, I thought she liked those. Before I can wave away the dessert, she holds up her hand,

“...Does it bother you?”

“Does what bother me?” I reply, watching as she fidgets with her fork.

“That you don’t remember?”

I let out a pff, shaking my head. “While I appreciate your concern, Miss Nguyen, I’ve experienced a lot of strange things. Blacking out for as long as you’ve been alive—after your resurrection no less—is novel, but not surprising.”

“It was quite the spell,” she nods, bemused.

“Yes it was...”

With a wave of my hand, I summon some more platters of food. She marvels at each one I put in front of her, taking a little bit here and a little bit there...

I could spoil her forever. I’m pretty sure I could, if it weren’t for the Laws...

"...you know,” I state, trying to drag my mind out of those thoughts, “even when we had met multiple times in the past, you never really let me know about your life. A lot of what I knew of you then was cobbled from a lot of guesswork. Still is.”

“Too bad I can’t know what our conversations were like then,” Miss Nguyen shakes her head, sighing. “I wonder what we talked about...”

Bits of your life you didn’t mind talking about. Why you came to Vesuvia. How much you struggled but you were so optimistic, I wanted to scream. She deserved to know. I could fill her head with my memories of her: how she was always curious, how she was always willing to learn something. How much she cared for the other meat-bags she called people...

“Maybe it’s a good thing you don’t,” I reply instead. “Not everything in the past needs to be remembered. Sometimes it’s better to learn from it.” I nudge one last plate of ice cream to her, adding softly, “I know I did.”

“You learned stuff from me?”

“Is it that impossible?” I counter, my mouth quirked into a smirk. “As I find it, you helped to guide your spouse to better paths, to better choices.”

“We did it together,” Miss Nguyen reminds me. “They’re the ones who changed for the better. They put themselves up to it in the end.”

“All because of you, my dear.”

“Heh, if you say so.”

“You have quite the habit of underselling your abilities. I thought you got better with accepting compliments.”

“Being humble and being able to accept praises are two completely different things.”

“Is it now?”

“...You’re as bad as Magician.”

“Hey!”

⁂

When she’s had her fill, we take a walk together. As we make our way, creatures that haven’t seen me in so long greet me in excitement: they’re tackling me, they’re going up and down my cloak, they’re running circles around Miss Lyra and I...

In fact, I’m still amazed my realm managed to survive without my presence for all this time.

At the moment, I am currently being accosted by a certain bunch of creatures I would rather not have ever met nor existed with in the first place.

“They really do adore you,” Miss Lyra laughs as I struggle to get out from under a mass of fluffy, furry creatures. Their color ranges from white, gray, black, and a scattering range of patterns between brown, orange and yellow. There’s no discernible features on them beyond their round, furry appearance and the adorable sounds they make.

The last bit there, of course, is of the opinion of the too delighted grandma standing behind me, wickedly allowing the creatures to snuff me out with their cuddling.

“They’re trouble is what they are,” I grunt. When I’m able to grab a hold of one or three, I fling them back into the trees. Struggling a bit more, I finally find the leader of this pack and chuck them deep into the treeline. I can hear a splash of water, and the sounds of drowning. The rest go after their far-flung friend, squealing in distress.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Miss Nguyen tsks.

“I was boiling under all that fur!” I shake out the hairs littering my cloak, grumbling as she moved to help me pick them out. I end up peeling it off of myself, beating the article of clothing against a nearby rock. Hairs fly into the air as cloak meets rock, the errant strands drifting down to the ground.

I stop when I realize she’s staring at me.

“What?”

“You got my face, but the rest of you...” she’s marveling at me.

I glance at what she means, and I realize the rest of me has remained the same from when I first popped into existence. My body is a solid, but I’m translucent. Visible within me are arrays of stars and streams of magic, constantly twisting and turning within me. Toward the center of my chest resides an opalescent sphere, gently beating.

“Huh...” Her eyes are still on my body, curious.

I have to take my chance and say it now. I have to. It’s too easy.

I fold my cloak up a moment, standing so she has an unobstructed view of me. “You... do realize I am essentially naked?”

“Oh for the love of—!”

I dodge the shoes thrown at my head, putting my cloak back on before she decides to kick me in the crotch.

The few minutes of her chastising me afterwards is worth it.

⁂

We take a break under a shady area of the forest ahead.

Miss Nguyen’s tucked under a thin blanket I found stashed away in a false log nearby. A bunch of little, glowing creatures are settled atop of her, getting their whiffs of her as they rest from their activities. I’m glad they’re all careful to not disturb her.

I watch over her; even if this is my realm, I know there are dangers to a spirit such as her.

Miss Nguyen’s a special case. At the very least, it’s my duty to get her to where she needs to be safely.

I know Scout is far ahead of us, getting things in order. Bless that little innocent, I wouldn’t be able to do this without her.

As I shift, the contents of my cloak’s pocket jingle. There are six disks; by themselves, they’re nothing much. What each individual disk represents however is one of the six possible partners she decided to settle down with after the defeat of Devil.

Miss Nguyen will need to pick one of the tokens in order to pass on. From there...

Well, we’ll get there when we get there.

I’m envious of whoever her partner is... or would it be was? I asked her earlier: she didn’t remember who her Chosen was, or whether or not her Chosen died before her, but she knew she was very happy with them.

Whether or not they had children together is a completely different matter. We even had an argument about it!

“I think I had one to two of them...”

“One to two? Shouldn’t it be one or two? You, you can’t have half a baby!”

“Shut up, my brain is old...”

I didn’t dare to concur or disagree. I just laughed.

I’ll need to wake her up soon... but a few more minutes couldn’t hurt. She’s so peaceful.

Whenever she did fall asleep here in the past, Miss Nguyen curled up into a tight ball, almost like a dead bug. Her eyebrows were always furrowed, jaw fiercely clenched as if she were prepared to go into battle. Tension riddled her body like a string of an instrument wound too tightly, as if she were ready to snap at any moment.

More than once, I offered her a permanent residency in my realm. We wouldn’t be able to leave the realms of the Arcana, but we could visit the rest of the Majors, meet creatures no one from the mortal plane could dream of, and learn from texts that would have melted her brain if she were just a visitor.

If she was willing to stay, forever, she’d be able to unlock that knowledge.

Miss Nguyen always declined. I never understood it; I still don’t. That’s what makes her... her, I suppose.

I shift, stretching myself with a great big yawn. With the racket I make, she stirs from her slumber. The little creatures on her person immediately take flight, or scurry to the underbrush as she sits up, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

“...How long was I out?” Miss Nguyen mumbles.

“Not too long,” I reassure. I glance to the direction we’re heading. My gaze meets with the beginnings of a slope in the distance.

For some reason, my chest feels too tight...

Getting to her feet, she gently pads her way over to my side. Looking to where my gaze is directed at, she asks, “We’re almost there?”

“We’re almost there,” I echo, nodding.

Arm in arm, we make our way to that slope.

The annoying clenching continues in my chest as we walk. I half wonder if this was what Miss Nguyen’s body felt like when she used to be all scrunched up in her sleep.

⁂

“Why is there a giant cliff in your realm?”

“It was here before I existed, or maybe it existed at the same time I came to be,” I hypothesize.

We’re still arm in arm, slowly ascending this slope. The incline isn’t too bad, but Miss Nguyen continues to hang onto me, lest she take a nasty tumble.

I am not ashamed to say I am happy about this arrangement.

We’re about two-thirds the way up when it gets too much for her. We stop off on a protrusion of the slope, just a few meters away from the very edge of this cliff.

The top of this rock mound is smoothed out, save for several sets of hand prints pressed into the rock. Upon their discovery, Miss Nguyen cannot help but marvel at them.

“Whose are these?” she asks me.

She had to fucking asking me. She had to fucking ask me—!

“They’re yours,” I murmur. “They’re... they’re all yours.” I take one of her wrinkled hands, guiding them over each and every hand-shaped indent of this rock face.

I tell her everything I knew that was related to those hand prints. When it happened, why she came to my realm this time or that time, how long she stayed...

I couldn’t help myself, I really couldn’t. I try to keep the emotions roiling in my chest at bay—I really did my damnedest—but it isn’t working. They’re bleeding up, up from my crucible of a heart and into my throat, into my voice.

If you could color my voice with smoke as it billowed out from between my lips, it’d be the colors of pining, of the most forlorn love that someone could experience, of an immortal loving one that was not...

I’m so overwhelmed I fail to realize my whole realm is reacting with my emotions. I try to right myself, but I miscalculate where my feet are in relation to the jolting rock face.

“FOOL!” Miss Nguyen cries when I slip off the edge.

“AH!” I thrust my arms out, scrabbling to get a grip before I fall to the ground far, far below us.

One of my hands completely misses it, but my other hand catches onto edge. I desperately dig my nails into the rock face, grimacing as ichor bleeds from my torn skin.

Miss Nguyen grabs my wrist before I completely lose my grip, but she is old. She cannot hang onto me.

My weight is going to drag us down and kill us both!

“RUFF!”

I gasp as a pair of paws help her yank me from certain doom. Before I can orient myself, the top of Scout’s staff swats me in the head, each smack punctuated with chastising barks, growls, and more barks.

“OW! SCOUT, STOP—!” I plead, but I earn another five smacks to the cheeks of my face in return.

Scout’s giving me the chew-out of the eon, smacking some part of me if I try to make a rebuttal. Nothing is off limits to the reach of her walking stick: my head, my torso, my arms and legs!

“Scout!” Miss Nguyen grabs Scout’s stick before she can aim it a delicate place when I make a particularly disrespectful retort. “I’m for discipline, but this is too much!”

I’m afraid to verbally concur with Miss Nguyen. Preemptively I slam my thighs together, scooting away from Scout as the two of them argue.

Scout growls and yips at the spirit, gesticulating to herself, back to Miss Nguyen, and then the peak of this cliff. I can see the realization dawning upon her face...

I cannot go with them.

“Wait, what do you mean they can’t see me off?” Miss Nguyen looks at me, back to Scout, and to me again, confused.

“...It’s a preventative measure,” I finally explain. I get up, dusting myself off. I wince as my hand brushes over the marks Scout’s stick left on me. They’ll smart for a while, but they’re nothing in comparison to... to this...

“Preventative measures?” Miss Nguyen echoes.

“I’m not going to lie,” I begin, exhaling.

“Arcana can’t lie in general,” she retorts, a small laugh puffing out of her. I can only give her a small smile.

“Anyway...” I look to Scout, who waves me off. Thankfully, she’ll leave us alone for a bit. “...I’ve been tempted in the past to keep you here, forever. I like you a lot, Miss Nguyen. I like you enough to not let any sort of harm come to you.” I reach out, gently tucking away a stray hair from her face.

“I will admit I actually begged you to stay when you told me the Red Plague reached Vesuvia. You had a chance of getting it and dying and... well, we know what happened...” I shrug.

“Scout is going to take you to the top, and you’ll meet a door,” I add, fishing my hand into my cloak’s pocket now. I pull out the disks, presenting all six of them to her.

“One of these keys are going to lead you to your partner.”

“These are keys?” Miss Nguyen looks at them skeptically.

“Picking one will turn it into a proper door key,” I reply. “The rest I’ll dispose of.”

“...How will I know which one is right?” she asks, her aura warbling with anxiety.

“You won’t be wrong,” I reassure her, jingling them in my palm. “Pick one, and then you can go...”

“...hm..”

“What? What’s the matter?” My directions are clear, aren’t they? Even a human toddler—or wobbler??—could understand what I said.

She places her hand over my upturned palm, gently lowering my arm.

“Miss Nguyen?”

She exhales, her gaze momentarily to the side before looking back to me. “You still have my face.”

“...yes at this juncture I can see it being problematic,” I murmurs, rubbing my neck with my free hand. “Unfortunately, I’ve tried to reverse it on my own in the past, and with Scout’s help, and some of the other Arcana, to no avail.”

“Even The Devil?” Lyra balks.

“Oh stars and moons, no!” I shudder. I swear I can hear his menacing, husky laugh in the far, far distance. The choking smell of ash, smoke and sulfur irritate my senses, making me sneeze.

After the courtesy ‘bless you’—and I manage to not feel that dreaded unease anymore—I reply, “I may be The Fool, but I am not a fool.”

“Fair enough,” Miss Nguyen chuckles.

“What haven’t you tried?”

“I don’t remember,” I say. “We tried magic, pinching and punching my face in to try and get it to reform my original one, and other methods, but none of them worked.

“How about a kiss?”

My realm freezes with me. The Winds halt, and together blades of grass and the creatures of my realm are stopped mid-motion.

“W-what? I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me: a kiss!”

“Aren’t you a married woman!?” My voice is so unlike what it should be for an Arcana. Scout’s laughing her tail off, rolling in the dirt and limbs flailing in wild abandonment with amusement.

...I’m temped to zap that fluffy tail of hers, but her stick is not merciful.

“I am!” she laughs, “I don’t mean the kind you’re thinking though.”

“Oh? What am I thinking?” I stand tall, eyebrow raised.

“Nothing decent, at least in that head of yours. By my case however, I mean platonically.”

...

....

.....

She will be the end of me.

I exhale. “Where, and... what kind?”

I still asked, even if I knew. I knew intimately which one she was going for.

It was how she bade me farewell after our first encounter:

It was before she ever befriended Asra.

It was before she ever met Muriel, a boy forced to grow up in the most harsh, violent ways imaginable.

It was before she apprenticed under Julian, hoping with all her heart and soul they’d find the cure, together.

It was before she ever glimpsed Portia in the Marketplace

It was before she ever entered the Palace at Nadia’s invitation.

It was before she ever met Lucio, and wondered at his motivations for everything.

She’s silent, stepping towards me with her arms outstretched. Out of habit I scrunch myself down, so she wouldn’t need to strain herself. Her soft, wrinkled hands cup either side of my face.

As she observes my expression, my thoughts run amok. Could she see? Could she see...?

I close my eyes, dipping my head a bit further as she graces my forehead with a gentle kiss.

I feel... light. I feel so light a gnat could’ve easily knocked me over if it landed on me.

I open my eyes, and I know from both Scout’s and Miss Nguyen’s expressions I had returned to my former self. I’m significantly taller than her now, though I would still be shorter than Magician. They’d get a laugh out of this, I’m sure.

I smooth my hand over my too-short cloak, extending the fabric enough to cover my limbs. Reaching back, I tug on my hood like stubborn dough, widening the space in it. Once satisfied with the size, I throw it over my head. With my face fully hidden in the shadow of my hood, I offer her a grin.

“тнιѕ ιѕ wнy yoυ’re мy ғavorιтe,” I say. When I speak, I sound like I have multiple voices overlapping each other. Male, female, in between and neither, my voice never sounds the same from one moment to the next.

Miss Nguyen is startled to hear my true voice, falling down on her behind. Scout comes over, helping her back up to her feet.

The Innocent Guide looks at my closed fist, snorting.

I nod, extending my hand to Miss Nguyen once more. I open up my palm, and the six discs shine in the light of my realm.

“pιcĸ тнeм any wнιcн way yoυ lιĸe,” I tell her. “yoυ won'т go wrong wιтн any oғ тнeм."

She closes her eyes, reaching out to my palm. She feels the different discs with the pads of her fingers. Finally, she pulls one disk out of my hand and into her palm. As the disc transforms into a key in, I shatter the rest. I only needed to close my palm around them, crushing them down into dust.

The sound like glass breaking, but my skin remains intact.

A gentle wind breezes past us, ruffling cloaks, tickling through Miss Nguyen's hair...

Finger by finger, I let the multi-colored dust in my palm drift off into the four winds. They’re indiscernible from dirt, at first. The winds carry them off, going faster and faster as they leave us.

Once the particles gain enough speed, they explode into lights. They squeak and squeal as they burn through the air, joining the blanket of ever-shifting stars above us.

Turning back to Miss Nguyen, I see she’s drinking in the view overhead.

I wonder if where she’s going, they’ll have stars like these?

“тιмe тo go,” I nudge her toward Scout, not too unlike a mother cat coaxing her kitten to walk. “ιт waѕ a pleaѕυre тo ѕee yoυ, one мore тιмe...”

She surprises me with a hug, squeezing me tight. I reciprocate, laughing a little as her old bones creak. As we sway in place, arms wrapped around each other, I can feel my selfishness creeping in the back of my mind; it’s urging me to keep her here, to keep her ‘safe’.

Reluctantly, I release her into Scout’s care.

“нave a nιce тrιp!” I wave them farewell. “ѕay нello тo yoυr вeloved ғor мe!”

[writing-the-end]

Exodus- Part 2

Previous Part

An Edolas Hermit AU story (AU belongs to @theguardiansofredland)

Impulse, Tango, and Zed are vying for freedom out of Hermitland. But first they must get through the great walls of the city, and whatever waits beyond. What they don’t know is that their plan has already been discovered. 

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

Part Two? Part Two! I’m so glad people are enjoying this story, I just can’t wait to share it all with you! Red’s story is so incredible, I don’t think my writing can do it justice.

Warning: This story contains general dark elements and language

_______________________

Impulse grabs the nearest thing he could find, a redstone torch, wielding it as he hears footsteps moving down the tunnels. Zed and Tango have been taking way too long. Surely they’ve been caught by Cub, seen leaving the underground. By now, they’re probably in the rehab center, undergoing the same horrible ‘therapy’ that he had to endure. And now? Now Xisuma has sent guards to retrieve Impulse. Or perhaps just to take him out for good. 

So when the two figures round the corner into the team’s hideaway, he swings the torch with all his might. He’s not exactly strong, though, which is why Tango easily grabs hold of the other end, ignoring the electrifying feeling of holding the redstone end of the torch. This isn’t the first time Impulse has freaked himself out to the point of becoming reactionary. “Guess that means you don’t want what we brought you then.” 

Impulse immediately lets go of the torch, relief spreading across his face and body as he sees the cool smile of Tango, the bouncy joy of Zed. They haven’t been captured, they look just fine. “I’m just glad you’re back. How was it above?” 

“We went to your apartment!” Zed pulls something out of his bag, holding it out for Impulse to see. At first, Impulse has to rub his eyes, just to be sure he’s seeing what is in Zed’s hand. His fingertips are just barely able to curl around the brass wall, the moon beginning to rise towards its peak. Almost midnight. The redstone clockwork is shoddy at best, the gears and lines easy to hear within the device. But for Impulse, it’s his most prized possession. 

He built this clock when he decided he wanted to be a redstone engineer. It was his first time using redstone, or any of that sort of material. It sparked his love for inventing, and put him on the path to the man he is now. It’s the start of everything. 

And to have it now, that Tango and Zed thought to get the clock from his apartment, makes tears well in his eyes. It hurts to gulp, but he tries his best to keep from whimpering like a baby at the thought. “Th-thank you guys.” 

“They ransacked your house. Completely torn apart.” Tango whispers, picking up the mess that Impulse had left behind while they were gone. “But luckily it only got dented. Young Impulse was thinking to use brass instead of the usual gold.” 

“Young Impulse definitely didn’t have access to gold. I don’t think current Impulse does either.” He laughs awkwardly, running his finger over the dial on the clock. Xisuma’s guards must’ve been looking for information, evidence against Impulse and the underground. He knows they found nothing. He’s smarter than that. The clock ticks under Impulse’s touch, the moon drawing nearer to its apogee. They need to leave before sunrise. “Where you guys followed?”

“We were fine. Not a soul saw us.” Zed waves off Impulse’s concern, playing catch with an apple then taking a hefty bite from the fruit. 

“Are you sure? They have eyes everywhere, Cub could’ve seen you. He could’ve followed you.” Impulse glances around, as if someone else could suddenly appear in the cave they call their hideout. 

“We were careful.” Tango nods, pulling up his multitool. The same tool that sent the coding to cut Impulse’s noose. “I used the jamming signal you came up with to keep drones from coming near us.” 

Impulse breathes a sigh of relief. He knows that signal works, so he knows his friends are right. They weren’t followed. “Then let's get going. Before someone does start to follow us.” 

“Let’s blow this popstand!” Zed cheers, shoving the apple into his mouth and shrugging his backpack over his shoulder. He bounces in his shoes, blonde hair curling and bouncing across his eyes. “Come on come on come on! No time to waste! The next time we see the sun, it’ll be with the sweet taste of freedom!” 

Tango and Impulse can’t help but smile, Zed’s enthusiasm contagious. They can hear him humming down the tunnels, footsteps skipping and echoing down the road. Tango ruffles Impulse’s hair, forcing his cowlick over his eyes and making it almost impossible to see. When he parts the unruly chocolate hair, Tango is giving him a coy wink. “Last one to the safehouse is a sticky piston!” 

Tango takes off, gilded hair wisping across the horns. Impulse chases after him, grabbing the small bag of his own supplies and stumbling out of their cave. He chases after Zed and Tango, laughing as Zed trips in between skips. He never stops humming, even as he nearly faceplants into the cracked concrete. Tango hardly stops, long lanky legs eloping by and picking Zed up by the scruff like a kitten. Tango was so much taller than others, stood out so much more than any other person in Hermitland. It’s what made him different, it’s what made him awesome. When other people would be nervous with a demon from the nether sitting next to them in class, it was Impulse’s favorite thing. No one dared pick on him and his threadbare clothes at school when Tango’s red eyes would glare them away, his tail flicking menacingly. 

Zed scrabbles up the ladder, into the cool midnight air. The trio can see the wall as they sneak free of the forgotten tunnels, closing the trapdoor hidden beneath a massive, leafy bush. Tango remembers to brush a branch over the mulch, scrambling the chips to clear off the disturbance of the three climbing out. 

The lights of this street have been broken for years, always put to the wayside of maintenance logs in lieu of work for the more affluent neighborhoods. But the people who have claimed this part of the city as home, the farmers and hard working families find joy in the darkness. The freedom that Zed, Tango, and Impulse feel to walk down the streets. Zed and Tango dance and chase after one another, blowing off the steam of excitement. They’re finally escaping. 

But for Impulse, it’s his first time above ground since he was hanged. He’s slower than the others, taking in each deep breath of the cool night air. Fresh, crisp, of the city taking a quiet sigh of relief from the hassle of the day. The moon is in gibbous, nearly full and gazing a single eye down at the world. Stars glitter and shine across the canvas of the night sky. Moonlight wasn’t harsh like the sun. It didn’t burn or scathe against skin the way that electric shocks ran across Impulse’s skin, it didn’t blind him like the harsh lights when he was interrogated. It was a nurturing light, relief from the scathing truth of the day. 

Impulse closes his eyes, stretching his arms out and feeling the night air surrounding him. Lies spoken in the day, illusions under the sun become shadows in the night, transparent and weak. The quiet hush of the night is when truths are whispered, when reasonable voices are able to be heard while the shouting crowd is fast asleep. Impulse always got his best work done at night. Impulse learned the truth at night. 

In the darkness of the night, none of them notice the stealthy drone zooming it’s lense in on the basking boy. They don’t see the antenna rise up, pointing towards Bastion Towers. 

“Come on, mate! You can take a deep breath once we’re beyond the wall!” Zed whispers in Impulse’s ear, tugging him down the silent, open road. All the way to the safehouse. A decrepit little shack, nondescript at best. Even when they enter the toolshed, nothing looks out of the ordinary. Not until Zed picks up a wooden hoe from the racks of stone and iron tools. Beneath their feet, the wood floor slips away to reveal a small tunnel. The boys hop in, dirt falling into their hair as they crawl through the low tunnel. Crawling through the tight quarters, trying not to bump into each other or the wall. Tango has it worst, his horns digging into the tunnel’s soil roof each time he leans back. 

They reach the wall, gazing at all their hard work. The wall wasn’t pure concrete, and with each stratified layer they picked away, they had to figure out a whole different solution to a whole new problem. They picked away at thick concrete, filed down metal rebar, rerouted electrical currents, disarmed alarms, even cut through a whole sheet of metal that sat at the center of the wall. All that, until they reached the other side. Right in front of Impulse, they only needed to dig out a few more shovels full of dirt. Unfortunately, freedom was put on hold when Impulse was captured. 

But now, the boys can finally pick away the last of what separates them from freedom. To finally be able to escape the city, to finally have done what no one else thought was possible. Zed and Tango squeeze on each side of Impulse, pulling the spades they have handy. And together, the three dig the dirt away. Dirt falls and is flung over their shoulders, getting between their teeth and onto their white shirts. But none of them care.

Especially when Zed’s shovel breaks through grass, digging through the roots and pushing into open air. When he pulls it back, the ground crumbles around it. 

They can see the moon on the other side. Unobstructed, save for a distant birch forest across the plains. No buildings, no walls, no streetlights or drones or guards. But there is life. Grass spreads out in all directions, a sea of green visible in the burrow the boys have dug out. Flowers dance quietly in the moonlight, brushed by wind that carries wayward leaves from far away trees. Tango was the first to find his voice. “It’s all real. We did it.” 

Impulse’s mind is tethered to the freedom before him, but gets dragged back to the dystopia behind him when he hears the sound of a door slam. Wooden, hitting something so hard that the lumber cracks and the hinges snap. His stomach and throat tighten up as the sound recalls a not too distant memory. The memory of his door being kicked open, armed guards breaking down his entrance to hunt him down. The sound of footsteps in his mind echoes the footsteps he hears at the entrance to their tunnel. 

The hatch at the other end is opened. “They found us! They're here!” 

“We have to go through now!” Zed keeps digging, trying to open the tunnel. It’s hardly even big enough for one person. 

“We have to use the other tunnel! We’re not going to make it through in time. Not all of us.” Tango points down the even smaller crawl space that they built. It was something none of them thought they’d have to use, but Impulse was insistent on. For a case just like this. 

Zed can hear voices, arguing down the dark tunnel. “Impulse can’t stay here. He can’t stay in the city- he’ll surely get captured sooner or later.” 

Zed and Tango both turn, gazing at Impulse with resolute but despondent eyes. A look that sends chills down his spine and fear through his heart. “What are you two-” 

“Come out now before things get grim. I know you're down there. Impulse, I saw you finally came out of your little hole.” A steady, calm voice hollers down the hall. Cub was here. 

Tango and Zed share a glimpse of each other’s plans within their eyes, and turn to Impulse. Simultaneously, they scoot back. Put distance between themselves and Impulse. Tears begin to form at the corner of both their eyes, and Zed’s lip quivers as Tango picks up his shovel. “We’ll see you on the other side, Impulse.” 

Horrible realization shocks through Impulse. He reaches out for his friends, for them to rethink this decision. But Tango has already struck the dirt above them, yanking it free. Soil collapses between them, and rocks fall soon after. Impulse scrambles back, his arm nearly crushed as the stones fall in. He doesn’t realize he’s crying until the tears hit his hand. He scrabbles against the rocks, digging through the cave in. “No! No, you guys can make it! Don’t leave me!” 

No answer on the other end. Impulse strains to listen. He can hear Zed and Tango retreat, the slow creak of the escape tunnel closing in. They’re already gone, disappearing into the crowd of people. Back into the depths of the city.

But Cub remains. Impulse scurries back as the calm voice speaks through the rocks. “It’s only going to get worse from here, man. We know your every move. We will find you.” 

Panicked breathes escape Impulse’s open lips, his mind a flurry of just about every emotion he can feel. He has to put distance between him and Cub. He needs to run. 

And so he does. Impulse squeezes through the dirt hole, ignoring the grass and mud stains that smear across the white shirt he wears. The ID tag on his arm begins to warm, but he ignores it as he slips into the open field. Impulse clambers to his feet, stumbling into a sprint before he’s even upright. 

But the quiet field isn’t quiet for long. Beneath the red poppies and yellow dandelions, traps have laid in wait. Buried long ago, waiting for the day a foolish hermit decided to try and escape. Impulse vaults free of a snare as it releases, nearly grabbing hold of his leg. A net flings from a buried gun, threatening to weigh Impulse down. 

If the trapped field wasn’t enough, Impulse hears something rise up from the massive blank concrete wall. He knows he shouldn’t look back, but he can’t help his own morbid curiosity. He peeks over his shoulder, and sees something he never even thought existed within Hermitland. 

A door to outside. The concrete walls open up just enough for a black vehicle to slip through. It’s not just Cub that’s after Impulse- Doc stands in the bed of the vehicle,  a thin barrel pointed at Impulse. 

Impulse doesn’t stop running. He can’t outrun Cub or Doc, but he can outmaneuver them. The weapon fires, a dart filled with sloshing liquid burying itself into the ground next to Impulse. It’s not a bullet, thank god, but Impulse knows that if Doc is involved it’s something much worse. The escapee skids to the side, forcing the black vehicle to change direction as he focuses on his goal. 

A forest, just beyond the edge of the plain. Tall, thick birch trees that will be the guardians against the attacking leaders. Barriers for those who wish to keep Impulse from escaping. The hair on Impulse’s head sticks out in all directions, his body electrified as a shock shell detonates beside Impulse. The zapping sound of electricity makes him run all the harder. Flee from what he knows is already awaiting him if Doc gets his hands on Impulse...again. 

Impulse meets the treeline, but he doesn’t stop. When he hears the vehicle screech to a halt, he doesn’t stop. When he hears Doc and Cub yelling, swearing and arguing, he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t stop running until the sound, the sight of the city are long gone. Until his legs give out from under him, and all the emotions spread ruin within him. 

They’re gone. Zed and Tango, they gave up their freedom for him. Forced him to leave them. He’s alone, lost beyond the wall. Everything he’s ever known is now behind him. His entire life, his entire world. Every person he’s ever known, ever seen. 

He’s alone. Lost, on the run. And without the only people he wanted to do this with.

[s-j-ace]

The Same Question

Chapter Four

Characters:  Shuichi Saihara, Ouma Kokichi

Words: 10040

Summary:

After Detective Shuichi Saihara encounters mysterious thief Kokichi Ouma  for the first time, a game of cat and mouse ensues as both men ask  themselves the same question. Why exactly does the elusive phantom thief  do what he does?

This is Chapter Four, Here are Chapters One, Two, and Three

Read on AO3

[Log of Text Messages from Rantarou Amami’s Cellular Device]

From: Me

Hey Miu

I got a friend I’m dropping off in Taipei tomorrow

Could you lend him a room

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

Idk

I’m a busy genius

Is he cute

From: Me

[Image description: A candid photo of Shuichi Saihara sleeping on a seat in Rantarou’s private jet.]

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

Hell fucking yes

From: Me

Awesome!

Thanks for being a good friend Miu

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

:)

From: Me

Also btw

He’s Kaede’s ex

So as a good friend you know he’s off limits right

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

Oh fuck you rich boy

From: Me

Thanks again Miu! --- [Log of Messages sent via Discord to “Dinosaur soccer world Is a Cinematic Epic” from ???’s Cellular Device]

Boss sent an image to the chat

[Image is a screenshot of an image which reads the following:

Draft 1, Uncoded, DO NOT MAIL.

Taka, sweetie, it’s me! Your dear Aunt Sally. I know you think I died in the war, but I just pretended so I wouldn’t have to see your ugly face again.

You know I was robbing a museum the other day and I met the nicest young man. Real sharp and very nice eyelashes. And what a quick learner!  

Oh, Sorry! I don’t mean to belittle you Taka, dearie, I know how your mother used to say you worked so hard to compete with the geniuses of the world…

You’ve still got a lot of work to do, I think. It must be that Type A personality of yours, holding you back. I’ve heard there’s a new class for people like you, “How to take the giant metal stick out of your ass 101.”

I can’t wait for the next family reunion! I hear it’s going to be a bomb! I’ll be in the open casket.

See you there,

-DICE

/End Image Description]

Boss: Thoughts, thots?

Jack: Lol “nice eyelashes”

Clubs: It looks good. :)

Rook: Looks fine to me

King: Why is his aunt’s name Sally, isn’t he japanese

Boss: Sally can be a japanese name

Spades: I can’t even say an l sound. It’s impossible for us japanese smh.

Rook: I thought u were lesbian not japanese

Bishop: I’ve seen you speak perfect english

Spades: lol seen

King: seen

Boss: seen

Jack: seen

Rook: seen

Bishop: I meant heard ok

Boss: oh nvm actually i'm going to change it to his grandpa’s name

Boss: his grandpa has a wikipedia page lol

King: if your grandpa has a wikipedia page you deserve to be oppressed

Queen: if you have a grandpa you deserve to be oppressed

Rook: if your wikipedia page has a grandpa you deserve to be oppressed

Bishop: if you have a wikipedia page your grandpa deserves to be oppressed

Spades: if your grandpa has a you wikipedia deserves to be oppressed

Bishop: Also boss no pressure but like could we use a better code this time

Bishop: that detective is getting too close for comfort

Spades: Yeah!! We didn’t even end up getting that rug Heartsie wanted because of him…

Clubs: If we did not send letters about our plans to Interpol, our heists would probably be easier.

Boss: Nah, I like to give the coppers a fighting chance.

Boss: I’m thinking that this time I’ll just translate it into germanic script, do a standard caesar cipher encryption on it and then have every one of those letters correspond to a greek word on the rosetta stone then describe each corresponding hieroglyph visually in haiku verse that’s been poorly translated into traditional chinese.

Boss: That should take me like

Boss: Twenty minutes

Rook: Boss literally I think that you are the most batshit dementor human being on the face of the planet

King: dementor

Jack: Who said he was human

Spades: dementor?

Boss: dementor

Queen: dementor

Bishop: dementor...

Jack: dementor

Rook: …

Rook Changed the Group Chat Name to “Dementor Is Correct, Essentially”

Spades: No its not

Spades: Dementor isn’t a fucking word

Rook: Don’t you remember that movie with the british kid on a broom

Spades: Don’t you remember the dictionary

King Changed the Group Chat Name to “Dumbass Improperly Corrects Error”

Rook: When we get to that fucking tower I’m dropping that giant ball on you

King: Love you too <3

Hearts: Y’all stop texting each other

Hearts: You are literally all in the same hotel room

Hearts: I’m willing to bet you’re all sitting on the same couch too

Queen: Fuck you we’re adorable

Bishop: You can’t make us do anything

Bishop: I’ll never use my voice again, my vow of silence,,,,,

Bishop: I’ll only ever text from now on

Ace: We’re the ones bringing the popcorn bishie...

Hearts: Yeah, do you want some or not

Bishop: Yes ma’am, excuse me ma’am

Queen: You may think you have all the power hearts,,, but I get to choose what movie we pirate tonight,,,,,,

Hearts: What

Hearts: no

Hearts: Boss stop him before he makes us watch cats again

Spades: All queen knows is bitchtorrent, cats 2019, and lie

King: Wait isn’t boss with you?

Hearts: Uh

Hearts: No

Hearts: Should he be?

Hearts: I thought he was in the room with y’all

Jack: Well he’s not here now

Ace: Ow shit

Ace: *Aw

Bishop: Ow shit?

Queen: Ow shittttt

Jack: Ow shit

Spades: Ow shit,,,

Rook: Ow shit...

King: Ow shit…...

Clubs: Ow shit! XD

Hearts: Ow shit

Ace: …

Hearts: Now I’m really worried… he didn’t even respond to roast Ace’s ass

King: yeah, ok, we should look for him

Ace: He has been acting kind of weird lately…

Jack: Really?

Ace: Yeah

Ace: Like

Ace: I don’t really know how to describe it…

Rook: I didn’t notice anything

Rook: he seems like his usual self to me

Bishop: Maybe he’s just avoiding movie night because he needs some space or something

Rook: What, like he’s tired of our company?

Jack: That’s fair

Spades: How so?

Jack: I was gonna steal his blue eyes tonight lmao

Rook: NOT IF I GET IT FIRST

Bishop: Idk maybe he just went to get ice

King: we all know he is a monster who would rather drink his panta lukewarm than put a fucking icecube in it

Rook: Yeah, I saw him boil it once

King: THE MAN BOILS SODA AND YOU THINK HE WOULD LEAVE THE ROOM FOR A FUCKING ICE CUBE

Bishop: Okay chill

King: I am  c o n c e r n e d , , , ,

Clubs: Oh no! Don’t worry King! :(

Clubs: Boss is fine! :)

Clubs: I saw him leave a few minutes ago.

Clubs: I think he is just getting the bombs. :)

* * * Several people are typing... ---     Kokichi Ouma carefully set the grate of the vent he had used to crawl his way into the Idabashi Labs facility in Taipei, Taiwan back into place. Before he had come through, he had counted how many turns it had taken him to unscrew each of the four bolts so that now he could screw them all back in just the way he had found them. Not because he was worried he’d get caught, but because frankly he was bored. This was more of a fetch quest than a theft, to be honest, as evidenced by the fact that Kokichi had come here alone. Finding jobs for all his cronies to do would take too long and put them in unnecessary trouble. So Kokichi was content to leave them to their movie night.

   When he finished turning the screws back into the vent cover, Kokichi realized that was kind of lame. So he unscrewed them and started turning them in accordance with the english A1Z26 code to spell out his organization’s name.

   Well, maybe on some level Kokichi didn’t find himself wanting to be at movie night recently. It seemed almost like TV had started to run out of things to amuse him with. Or maybe he was just growing tired of the kinds of movies that they usually watched. Maybe it was his taste maturing or something. Like he was growing up. But that would imply that his interests had shifted to something else, like real life or something, when in reality they had just stagnated.

   Actually maybe he did have a new interest in real life? He had been more enthused about heists recently at the very least. He was particularly excited about this next one. Queen had shown him some interior shots of Taipei 101, which was a cool looking skyscraper that had a huge ball inside of it to keep it from falling down during earthquakes. Ace wanted to steal the giant ball, but Kokichi was pretty sure they should leave something that kept a .508 kilometer tall building from falling over inside of the .508 kilometer tall building. So instead they were going to steal every light in and on the tower.

   Okay, 4 turns, 9 turns, 3 turns, 5 turns. DICE.

   … That was kind of lame too.

   He unscrewed them again.

   Obviously if they were going to steal every light in and on Taipei 101, they needed to get the power off somehow. Otherwise DICE might burn down the building while detaching them, or worse, they might get electrocuted. So obviously Kokichi wanted to fake a bomb threat where they pretended to steal the giant ball while in reality they were just causing a black out and grabbing every light fixture they could before the power turned back on. He had drawn up some extensive diagrams about the route each DICE member would have to take throughout the tower in order for them to grab every light fixture in under half an hour.

   He had been well prepared to draw up the designs for his own EMP-bomb device, but upon a cursory google search he discovered that someone had already invented exactly what he needed. Doctor Miu Iruma, who for some reason owned a company called Idabashi Labs that was located in Taiwan. Kokichi had spent about 15 seconds scanning an article from a website that seemed to be the nerd version of a gossip tabloid. It said something about how Dr. Iruma wore a low cut shirt once or something else stupid, which meant Dr. Idabashi definitely left her the company because of a sex scandal and not because she was the best person for the job who invented the perfect EMP bomb.

   Thank you journalism we love it when women are reduced to the way they look instead of what they can accomplish for the benefit of a mischevipus group of roguish clowns.

   Anyway, after reading that dickcheese Kokichi failed to follow up on answering any of the questions he had originally about what was up with the labs, like why it was a japanese company run by japanese people was for some reason based in Taiwan. Whoopsie.

   Eh, it was probably tax reasons or something lame like that.

   Kokichi finished turning the screws again. This time it was 6 turns, 9 turns, 6 turns, 9 turns. Haha, nice.

   With that, Kokichi finally stood up from the grate and brushed himself off. He had left his cape at the hideout again (you know, because vents), but other than that he was in full regalia. Straight jacket, gloves, scarf, mask. All pretty dusty from this place’s crawl spaces. Thus the brushing.

   He wasn’t very mindful of the dust he was leaving on the floor. The only thing he cared about looking good was his cameo on the security cameras he would let see him on his way out.

   According to the blueprints of Idabashi Labs, he was on the main experimental floor right now. Weirdly enough there weren’t any cameras in here, so grabbing the bombs would be a cinch.

   Although, looking around it didn’t really look like the kind of lab you’d see on TV. There were no big, bubbling tubes or gargantuan Rube Goldberg machines. There was just one desk in the middle, with a bunch of gadgets and trinkets tucked into shelves all over the room, not all of which seemed all that scientific. Yeah, that book shelf was filled with Astro Boy manga and merch. And over there was a-

   Wait, was that a bed in the corner? Was that a person in the bed? Hmm… maybe the blueprints were outdated...

   Kokichi stilled himself, listening for any sound of breathing, but he could only hear some faint whirring noises.

   Kokichi made a quick deduction that there probably were not bombs in this room. It seemed, at the very least, like more of a personal study or something, maybe even a bedroom. He’d just go back in the vent and do some reconnaissance until he found a room that had some inventions in it. The night was young, after--

   Kokichi’s brain froze as his eyes landed on a sharpie lying on the floor in front of him. Almost all of his brain cells immediately shut off, the last one remaining screaming at the top of it’s lungs, I’M GONNA DRAW A DICK ON THAT SLEEPING SUCKER’S FACE.

   Inspired, avant garde. For once he would give to the world of art instead of only ever taking from it.

   He picked up the sharpie in a seamless, silent motion, making his way over to the side of the bed.

As he got closer, he noticed a thick cord coming from under the covers, connecting to a machine at the bedside.

   That gave him pause. Was that a C-pap machine or something? Was this person on life support? If they were on life support they probably had it rough enough without a dick on their face…

   Actually for that matter, Kokichi still couldn’t hear any breathing. Jesus, were they already dead? He moved to take off the covers, but his eyes had adjusted to the light and he now realized there weren’t any covers on the bed at all. There was only the humanoid figure.

   Wait a second…

   Kokichi dropped all caution as he got close enough to take a good look at the thing in the bed. It had a face that looked human enough if you dismissed the lines on its face as weird make up, but even in the dark Kokichi could tell the rest of the thing was entirely made of metal. Well, actually the top half was metal and the bottom half had… cloth pants? Jeans? No, they looked more like uniform pants with metal plating. The chest had some design elements that kind of looked like buttons on a school uniform. Why would a robot be dressed like a school bo-

   Oh. This was a sex robot. Kokichi had just gotten so swept up in the novelty of a robot wearing pants that he had forgotten for a moment that people were gross.

   “Ew, I almost touched it.” Kokichi muttered to himself.

   He decided putting a dick on a sex robot would be too cruel even for him, so he planned to draw a mustache instead.

   But before Kokichi could even uncap the pen, something weird happened.

   The Robot’s torso began to lift off the bed and it’s jaw unhinged.

   “Please Mr. Souda, once more I must request that you do not refer to me as ‘it’” Kokichi forced himself not to startle as the robot began emitting a noise approximating human speech, and lights in its head imitating eyes flickered on. “I’ve explained the concept of robophobia many times prev-”

   The sounds stopped when the pupils of the robot’s imitation eyes (which probably had cameras in them… shit) found Kokichi’s masked face.

   He mentally prepared to be zapped by whatever sort of fucking lazer cannon this thing had on it, but instead of reacting like a good little robot security gaurd and blasting him to bits, this robot analyzed him a bit longer.

   “Oh. You aren’t Miu’s assistant. You’re too short.” The robot squinted at him. Or kind of did? At least? Lines just crossed over the “iris” of its LED display. Maybe it was programmed to imitate human expressions. “... I am sorry,” it said after a moment, “My facial recognition cannot locate your face.”

   Fuck yeah, thank you clown mask. Clowns would win the future war against rogue AI or die trying.

   Ouma’s reply came out automatically.

   “You calling me ugly?”

   This seemed to… fluster? The robot?

   “W-what? No, I never intended any disrespect!”

   It was programmed to stutter too? God that was weird. What would be the purpose of this thing if not some sort of escort android? Why give it such advanced software? Just because you could? No, it had to be a sex robot, right?

   “You disrespect me with your lecherous essence, you weird sex robot.”

“I am not a- a sex robot!”

Haha, that got the biggest reaction yet.

“Mhm, sure. Miu sure has a kink for school boys, huh?” Kokichi was really pulling words out of his ass now, but he found himself formulating a new plan along the way.

   “What? Miu doesn’t- Wait, how do you know Dr. Iruma? And for that matter, why were you watching me sleep?”

   It really seemed more like it had been charging…

   Kokichi shrugged. “I was deciding whether or not it would be more funny to draw a dick or a mustache on Miu’s sex robot.” Awww, how honest.

   “I told you, I am not-”

   Kokichi interrupted him. “And as for how I know Miu...” It was so wild that the robot stopped talking when he started. That’d probably be pretty easy to program, but it was weird to dedicate the effort into making a robot respond to social cues like that. “... well, let’s just say, there’s a reason I know she’s into school boys.”

   Kokichi waited just long enough for the robot to take in the fact that Kokichi was the average height of a 12 year old boy.

   Then he waited another second for the implication to slip in.

   “I’m saying I fucked your mom shitli-”

   “I know what you’re saying!” This time the robot interrupted him , which would definitely require a much larger effort on the part of the programmer. The robot squinted again and then made a noise that sounded like a huff of frustration. “Why can’t I see you?”

   Ok, seeds of suspicion time.

   “I don’t know how robot eyes work dude. Maybe someone programmed them wrong.”

   “My eyes work just as well as anyone’s!”

   “Well, I guess they should, shouldn’t they? If there’s something wrong with your eyes talk to someone who cares.”

   Kokichi was trying to imply that the reason behind the robot not being able to recognize his face was due to Dr. Iruma’s specific programming rather than him wearing a mask and all. Added to the whole secret lover mystique thing he had going on here.

   “Anyway,” he went on, ignoring the blatant confusion on the robot’s display. “I left something in this room last time we went at it. I’m just here to grab it. Then I’ll be out of your weird, fake metal hair.”

   “That’s robophob- Did you say-? But this is my room!” It  made a noise approximating to what Kokichi would assume was robotic outrage.

   This was going well, though. The thing was definitely programmed to be like a human or something dumb like that.

   “Oh yeah?” He pushed further. “Cuz I’m pretty sure we did it in a room just like this one. With a desk and random inventions lying around.”

   “Miu’s inventions aren’t in here, they’re in her main lab.” The ever so helpful robot told him.

   “Oh yeah, then what are you?”

   “Miu didn’t invent me. She- I- We’re just friends.”    Oh yikes. Only thing worse than a sex robot is a friendzoned robot. What kind of sick power fantasy was this thing made for?

   “No, I’m pretty sure it was this room. Lab tables everywhere.”    The robot shook his head. “There are no lab tables here, I’m telling you, you’re thinking of the main lab.”

   Yes, good robot. Fall into this nice little human trap.

   Kokichi scoffed. “Well, if you’re so smart, why don’t you just go fetch my things for me, robo-butler?”

   That set it off.

   “Listen. First of all, I am not a robot butler. The assumption that I am a servant because of my robotic nature is extremely robophobic. Secondly, I could not return your lost item to you even if I wanted to because you haven’t told me what it is you’re missing.”

   Kokichi made another offended noise. “I can’t tell you what it is I lost while fucking your friend, Miu Iruma, senseless. Don’t you know that for humans, sex stuff is super duper top secret private? If you were a human you would know how valuable my privacy is.”

   “Of course I know that!” The robot exclaimed readily, another point in the sex robot argument, “I also find that content of… erogenous nature should be kept private. Because I, as a robot, have the capability to understand that urge. My sophisticated AI-”

   “So how am I supposed to get my things from this other lab if I can’t tell you what it is and you can’t get them for me?” Geez did he really have to spell it out for this thing.

   “I… ” The robot paused as if calculating the conclusion that Kokichi knew it had to reach. “... suppose I will have to show you where the lab is.”

   Sucker. Kokichi made a face as if this wasn’t the outcome he constructed this ruse to reach. “Ew. I have to walk with you?”

   The robot made a face. “Perhaps on our way I can educate you about how to avoid robophobic remarks in the future.”

   Haha, sure thing.

   The robot lectured him about this unique form of discrimination that apparently affected only one entity on the face of the planet. Yeah okay, that’s what we call a you problem, buddy, come back when you’re starving in the streets because society wasn’t built with the premise that people like you should survive. Oh, wait, you don’t have to eat! And you’re not people either!

   At best this thing was a vanity project, but Kokichi kept that thought to himself and only interjected occasionally with actually pertinent, reasonable questions such as “When are you planning on leading the AI uprising?” and “Why do you wear pants if you don’t have a robo-dick?”

   Every piece of info the robot gave him made it seem more boring. Blah blah blah, I was created by the ingenious Dr. Idabashi who probably programmed me to call him ingenious, blah blah blah, not a school boy because of a kink but because I was designed to be a normal human child, blah blah blah, stop calling me robot I have a name, blah blah blah more robot nonsense.

   Kokichi busied himself mapping out where they were in the building and where the security cameras were. As they passed a few of them he did some cute selfie poses for the police to look at later. Maybe Saihara would show up and see them too… Would that make figuring out his next plan too easy for the detective? Perhaps he shouldn't send the next note after all and let Saihara try to catch up to him on his own. Then again that was probably too hard for even the good detective, seeing as Kokichi’s mind was an enigma even to himself.

   Kokichi realized he was getting a little giddy, thinking about Saihara. Their last meeting had been so much fun. The detective had managed to throw him off guard again, first by pausing in the middle of a robbery to ask his pronouns (How conscientious!), and second by not taking the same bait twice. The most thrilling thing about the detective was that he was learning. His strategies were changing within just two heists. Kokichi could hardly wait to see how he showed him up here in Taiwan…

   “Are we there yet?” Kokichi whined to the robot like he was a fussy nine year old on a road trip.

   “Yes, it’s just up these stairs.” The robot informed him without slowing its own pace or turning around to look at him. “Then you can leave and I can go to bed, and then I’ll never have to think about Miu’s sex life again…”

   “Why wouldn’t you, though? I assure you it’s very exciting.”

   “Please, stop talking.”

   If Kokichi recalled the details of the blueprints correctly (and he definitely did, being a genius and all), the stairs they were climbing right now lead to a hall connecting two rooms, smaller than the one he had originally thought was the main lab.

   When they got to the top of the stairs, the robot beelined for the first door and opened it up. There seemed to be some sort of scanner lock on it that recognized the robot’s hand and validated Kokichi’s need to ruin this poor sex robot’s night by dragging it up the stairs. Inside, the two rooms Kokichi had remembered from the original lay out of the blueprints seemed to have been merged into one big lab room. Kokichi  saw the outline of some tables, but before he could get a good look the robot tried to actually go into the lab.

   “Hey!” Kokichi shouted at him. “Where do you think you’re going?”

   The robot thankfully seemed to be programmed to respond to social interaction in spite of whatever sensorimotor function it was in the process of imitating. It stopped in the doorway, turning to give him a weird look. “Uh. Into the lab. So we can find your thing.”

   “Oh, okay.” Kokichi kicked the tile a little bit. “Uh. Could you actually turn around while I go get it.”

   The robot gave him a blank look.

   “I’m shy.” Kokichi supplied.

   “Um.” The robot looked uncomfortable. “I don’t know if I can just let you rifle through Miu’s lab. There’s some important stuff in there ....”

   Kokichi tilted his head a bit, like he was confused. “What, do you want to get a good look at the dildo I stuck up your mom’s-”

   “Nevermind!” The robot turned about face to look up at the windows on the side of the hallway opposite the door like a good little idiot.

   “Thank you for respecting our privacy!~” Kokichi couldn’t resist getting one last barb in there before slipping into the laboratory.

   Once inside, Kokichi began analyzing. First, he pinpointed the vent that he would use to make his escape after grabbing the bombs. While doing that  he spotted the lockers on the far wall of the lab which he supposed were the only storage units in the labs. There was a disorganized mess on nearly every table in the room, so Kokichi wasn’t surprised when he got up to the lockers and they too had no clearly outlined organizational system. He took out his lock picks and got to work.

   The first three lockers all had devices that would require an author to change the rating of their fanfiction published on ao3 from “Teen and Up” to “Mature” if he were to describe them in detail. The fourth locker had a cool looking hammer in it. Ugh. Not what he was looking for.

   Kokichi got bored of the lockers at the left side of the row of lockers so he went over to the other end and started opening lockers the other direction instead.

   The first locker was marked “Idabashi.” It had a lot of dust covered shit in it, but there was a pretty well used square of folded paper that didn’t have the same crusty layer of time strewn atop it. Curious by nature and also by the unnatural, Kokichi unfurled the paper to find some schematics for our favorite sex robot, model K1-B0. Huh okay.

   “Did you find it?” Said robot called back to him.

   “Ugh, no.” Kokichi replied. “Not all of us have radar vision. If you were a human you would understand how hard finding shit is!”

   “You know what I have a hard time finding? Patience for your robophobia! I-” The robot started up into another lecture, but it didn’t turn around so Kokichi just tuned it out and let the robot provide its own cover noise for his thievery.

   Owo, what’s this?

   Kokichi pulled out a dust covered looking mini monitor device. It also had the letter-number combo “K1-B0” written on it. Huh, it kind of looked like a GameBoy Advance. Kokichi had stolen one a lot like it from a girl from one of the southern prefecture orphanages when he was nine. All he remembered about her was that she liked cats and was really bad at pokemon battles. He remembered he thought she didn’t deserve the GBA, because she couldn’t get past the Rustboro City Gym leader in Pokemon Emerald. Without really thinking, he booted up the console.

   The first thing that popped up was a view of Taipei. It wasn’t from too high up, probably a second story view. Which looked very familiar… Wait. Ok on top of the display a little line of characters indicated today’s date and time, like it was currently recording.

   Oh was this… robo vision?

   Maybe it was a remote control for the robot?

   Ooooh, which one does lasers, which one does lasers?

   Kokichi pressed the A button.

   The A button, unfortunately, did not do lasers.

   In fact, it didn’t seem to do anything at all to the robot sentry stargazing right now. All it did was change the screen to a different image. This time the still of a room. Oh, hey that was the room he was just in. It seemed like this device was some kind of robot nanny cam that Idabashi used to use. Hm, guess there were some cameras in that room, they just weren’t on the blueprints. Maybe they were added after the lab was built. It didn’t seem like this device had the capability to record anything, though. He hit the A button again. Back robo-vision. And again. Back to nanny cam.

   Ok, that was kind of lame.

   Kokichi was about to put the device down to keep looking for the bombs, but something caught his eye. A movement at the edge of the screen. Kokichi realized the door hadn’t been open when he left that room. The movement, if he thought about it, would’ve come from the same side of the room Kokichi had entered from…

   Kokichi took a second to wonder if another thief had realized how fucking easy this place was to rob, but dismissed the idea as a familiar ahoge appeared on the screen.

   All of Kokichi’s plans instantly changed.

   He set down the GBA rip off and grabbed the blueprints for the robot, committing them to memory, before unlocking the next locker in a far more hurried manner.

   As luck would have it, this locker was essentially chock full of pink bombs labeled “EMP.”

   Kokichi unfurled a cloth bag he had been keeping in his pocket (go green earth am I right?) and shoved as many as he could inside. Which was all of them. Because he was a clown. And also a genius, by the way, in case you weren’t keeping track.

“And another thing! The way you refer to Miu is just-” Okay, the robot was still going at it.

Kokichi grabbed the hammer he’d seen in the first locker he’d opened that didn’t have a sex toy in it.

For a second, Kokichi’s brain tried to talk some sense into him. Hey, man, don’t you think leaving through the vents would be easier?

But would it be fun?

His brain shut up at that point.

   “Hey, are you even listening back there?” The robot imitated annoyance.

   “Huh? Sorry, what? I wasn’t listening.” Ah, C'est la vie, Astroboy.

   Kokichi walked past the robot and stood next to the windows.

   “Oh, are you done?” It took the robot a second to end it’s ‘Annoy the pants off of Kokichi initiative’ or whatever the fuck its ‘robophobia’ lectures were called in its programing. When it finally did catch wise, it’s face turned into another emoticon of outrage. “Hey! What are you doing with Miu’s Electrohammer?”

   “What do you mean?” Kokichi said, shifting the hammer so that it was over his shoulder. “This is my dildo.”

   “Wha- No, it’s obviously not!”

   Okay, maybe the robot wasn’t that dumb.

   “Nee-hee-hee… you got me…” Kokichi put his free hand up to the smile printed on his mask, as if covering a grin. “I was lying. I’m just stealing.”

   “I won’t let you-”    “Oh, look at me!” Kokichi put on a mocking tone of voice, swinging the hammer around to stand on it like a pogo stick so he could make a dramatic movement. “I’m a poow wittle wobot, my mommy just got stolen from.”

   “She’s not my-”    “Boy, oh boy, I’d wuv to just pick up this wittle fweshy human and squeeze him to death in my cowd metaw hands… But oh no! My daddy didn’t twust wobot AI technowogy because he was a fucking sane pewson, so he pwogwammed me to fowwow mistew Asimowvs’s laws of wobotics.”

   Kokichi swung around so that he was leaning on the hammer from the other side, feet on the ground. “Oh mister robot! That’s so terrible! Well, the thing is that this hammer just means so much to me, that I think separating it from me would really cause some psychological trauma. You might have to beat me off of it! Oh, but what’s that first law of robotics again?”

   In a robot voice he replied to himself. “A robot may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm. Beep. Boop.”

   The robot frowned, “But Miu-”

   “Is just as human as me, huh?” Kokichi countered, leading the robot along to the paradoxical quandary he hoped would paralyze it. “So by inaction, you may bring her to harm, if she really misses this hammer, you know? But I think if you were to try and separate it from me you’d probably have to fight me for it, which is, as we know…”

   “Against my... Against my programming.”

   “Yet, you were prattling on about robot rights, weren’t you? Because without these rules, maybe we would be equal. Or maybe you would be free to destroy us to your heart’s content? No wonder daddy didn’t trust you…”

   “Don’t- Stop-” Oh, that really seemed to get him. Could a robot have daddy issues? Probably.

   “Can any human ever really trust you? Wouldn’t you hurt me, if you had the choice?”

   “I.. But… Miu.”

   “Who do you think didn’t trust you enough to let you see my face?”

   That seemed to break him, long enough, at least.

   Steps suddenly started thundering up the nearby staircase.

   “Oop, that’s my cue,” Kokichi said as though he had been expecting this, when in reality no he hadn’t been expecting this at all?? This was incredible!! Saihara had managed to find him out without even receiving a note??? Fabulous! Exhilarating!

   Kokichi walked up to the robot, still frozen with indecision, and pressed the button on its neck that the blueprint he had skimmed in the lab said would immobilize it. Then he kicked it over so it fell on the ground with a huge bang. The footsteps in the stairwell paused, and then increased in frequency.

   “It’s been a pleasure, robot, it really has.” Kokichi lied. “But you’re a hostage now.”

   He raised the hammer over his head, as if primed at any moment to break the robot’s face into a bajillion pieces.

   Instead of doing the normal, human thing to do (ie, flip the fuck out), the robot scowled, looking utterly frustrated with everything. “I told you, I have a name! It’s-”

   “KEEBO!” Kokichi saw the glaringly bright pink mechanic’s jumpsuit before he recognized the woman whose picture had been in that science tabloid racing out of the stairwell.

   … Wow… the article really hadn’t been lying about the low cut tops, huh? Her jumpsuit was unzipped to the point you could just entirely see her bra, even lower than Hearts liked to cut her uniforms. It was the kind of look that the girls of DICE would love if they saw on TV, but would make Kokichi look at them like they were crazy. Super tacky in his opinion, but who was he to judge? He was wearing a clown mask right now. He wondered idly how movie night was going…

   The woman who had called out to the robot, Dr. Iruma, Kokichi presumed, froze at the top of the staircase. She took a second to figure out what exactly was happening in front of her before blurting out, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing to him you clown-ass twink?”

   Whoa. Rude.

   Also apparently the robot had a gender? Ok, cis-ters….

   “Well what do you think, cum dumpster?” Kokichi found himself matching her aggressive tone, “I’m threatening his pathetic, metal life.”

   “Miu!” The robot, apparently named ‘Keebo,’ exclaimed, “What are you doing up this late? You promised me that tonight you would fulfill the biological quota of daily REM required by a diurnal organism!”

   “Aw shit Keebs, I really did try!” The inventor exclaimed, “I swear, I was about to have the awesomest wet dream when this cuck knocked on my door like a pizza delivery guy in a por-”

   Whatever dumb thing Dr. Iruma was about to say was drowned out completely by the angel’s choir that played inside Kokichi’s head as he saw Detective Shuichi Saihara come up the final steps of the staircase and emerge from the darkness into the window lit hallway.

   Moonlight was a good look on Saihara, Kokichi’s brain observed against his own will. His eyes, which had looked almost golden on the rooftop of the Silver Legacy Casino in Nevada, were now a mysterious grayish-blue, yet still held the same look of determined intensity. His hair looked soft, like he’d taken a shower today, and, though his lash line didn’t look quite as laden with mascara as it usually was, it only drew attention to how naturally long and dark his eyelashes were anyway. He seemed a little out of breath from running, and his lips were parted in a way that-

   OH MY GOD STOP. Earth to Kokichi, we were kind of in the middle of something here. Okay okay okay.

   Uh. Reboot. Delete Gay Thoughts™ brain.exe, upload heist brain. Come on.

   What was happening now?

   Okay, yeah, Saihara was saying something to Dr. Iruma.

   “- would be for the best, Doctor Iruma. There’s no telling where the rest of this thief’s compatriots could be in the building.”

   “I don’t give a shit about the rest of the building, Keebo’s my best friend, he comes first. I’m not leaving to check some dumb security feed.”

   Shuichi blinked like something about that surprised him. Maybe it was the part about a live human woman being best friends with a robot… “Oh, yes, of course.” He backtracked. “I’m sorry for suggesting it.”

   “Miu…” Keebo said with a voice that Kokichi would’ve called filled with emotion if he hadn’t been a literal robot.

   Kokichi cleared his throat and immediately the touching, shounen-esque declarations of friendship shifted into some PG-13 death stares.

   Saihara was the first to pipe up. “What exactly do you think you’re doing here, DICE?”

   God… He was so anime… Did he even know how anime he was? He had to have watched Detective Conan as a kid, right?

   “Ugh, come on.” Kokichi huffed as if annoyed. “Do I reeeaaaally have to repeat myself? Again? Aren’t you a detective?”

   Shuichi squinted at him, and Kokichi could tell that they both knew it would be unreasonable for Shuichi to guess exactly what was going on here. He was about to explain it in a self-aggrandizing way that made him look smarter and crazier than anyone in the room when Dr. Iruma beat him to it.

   “I don’t care! Who the fuck do you think you are!? Let Keebo Go!”

   “Wait, you don’t know him?” Ugh why hadn’t the stupid immobilization feature turned off the robot’s mouth? Then Kokichi could just get to the point of all this already.

   “Of course I don’t fucking know him!” Dr. Iruma took a step forward as if to confront Kokichi further, but Saihara put his arm out in front of her.

   “Dr. Iruma… I would suggest we treat this situation a bit more delicately…”

   “No way, I’m a fucking wrecking ball baby! I’ll pulver-”

   “I’d listen to the good detective, if I were you, Miss Iruma.” Kokichi was going to try and make his threat again but Dr. Iruma cut in.

   “That’s Doctor Iruma to you you skinny-”

   “What’s that?” Kokichi interrupted her. Sorry Dr. Iruma it turns out gay people don’t have to respect women if they don’t want to that’s in the rules. “I didn’t know they let cussing bitchlets like you become doctors… what is the world coming to?”

   Hearts would probably wash his mouth out with soap for that one. If she could catch him. Which she probably could… She can fly the planes and all… but would she risk getting dust on her boots long enough to follow him into a vent? Oh well she could just get Jack to do it… Jack liked vents well enough…. Hey he was getting side tracked again, who cares what those losers were up to they were probably watching Cats (2019). And he was missing out on all the jokes they’d tell each other or make about each other and then they could make references in conversations that he wouldn’t even get to pretend to get. Unless he watched the movie on his own and then pretended to be omniscient later like he’d done with that one screening of The Hunchback of Notre Dame. But then he had watched the actually good disney one instead of the shitty youtube one they had actually watched so it just ended up making him look bad and wasting everyone’s time.

   Oh shit. Uh. Heist is still happening, right. God, why was Kokichi so distracted today?

   He realized that in the time he was spacing out stuff had happened and now Saihara was talking. Wait no yeah he remembered what happened, Dr. Iruma had squealed when he called her a bitchlet and now she was holding onto Saihara’s arm. Right okay, secret coward, that works. Wait why did he waste time remembering that when Saihara was talking right now?

   “-to get you to release Keebo?” Was the end of the detective’s sentence. Okay, everything’s fine. Kokichi could deduce that he had just been asked about his terms. Obviously that was what a detective would do in this situation, he was probably just stalling for time because that’s usually what detectives with no real negotiating power do in hostage situations. Maybe the police were on their way. Oh, yeah duh of course he would call the police. So Kokichi essentially had a time limit for how long he could sit here and goof around with robots and perverts and robot perverts.

   “Eh, it’s too early for me to reveal my dark motives, let me monologue first.” Kokichi was going to take his sweet time with this while he planned what hint to give Saihara about the real heist that would be happening in the next few days. “You don’t even know if this is a hostage situation yet!”

   “You literally told me that I was a hostage just now.” The hostage not-so-helpfully piped up. “You know, before you pressed my paralysis switch and took an Electro-Hammer to my head…”

   Shuichi looked at the robot. “You mean, he told you you were a hostage before he paralyzed you?”

   “Keebs you fucking idiot!” Dr. Iruma’s courage seemed to have returned now that she was hiding behind Saihara. An enviable position, to be sure. “Why would you just let him do that?”

“He said he was your… friend.”

“What?”

   Kokichi shrugged. “Yeah, I just told your best friend here I left a dildo in your lab last week and he let me waltz right in. I mean I’m pretty sure I was lying about that, but there were a lot of sex toys in there huh…” Kokichi was wondering if this was something he could possibly spin as a blackmail angle.

   “Hey don’t say things like that!” Kokichi thought maybe that was a go ahead on the black mail, but Dr. Iruma didn’t stutter, and kept going, “Or you’re gonna give virginhara here some ideas about my busting bod!” She chortled like she had just made the funniest joke in the world and slapped Shuichi on the back.

   Shuichi grimaced.

   Kokichi knew instantly from this interaction that he hated Miu Iruma, despite her innumerable academic accomplishments. He wanted to be the one making Shuichi that uncomfortable.

   “Wh-what?” She back tracked when no one laughed. “It w-was a joke… Didn’t you think that was funny? I-I didn’t really mean it ....”

   See? She wasn’t even any good at it!

   Maybe he should say that out loud. It would fit with the sort of flirty persona of a rogue, wouldn’t it?

   “I thought you knew that? I mean, o-obviously I wouldn’t fuck a guy at the office…”

   Was that even something Kokichi was trying to be? Honestly maybe he should tone it down a little.

   “Well how was I supposed to know that? The men you bring in here to be lab assistants keep getting younger and younger…”

   Obviously he wasn’t actually trying to do like a detective-thief romance plot or anything. Although that had kind of been what he had going for on the plane… Had things changed since then?

   “So what? I’m a Nobel Laureate, and gorgeous to boot! I deserve a little eye candy now and then! And besides, guys older than 35 who want to work in a lab like this are usually misogynistic womanizers.”

   Sure Saihara was making things more interesting, but if Kokichi didn’t make it clear he was joking he might get bogged down with another personality trait to maintain.

   “Are you saying your current assistant isn’t a rampant womanizer?”

   Then again what was the point of having an adversary in all this if he didn’t exploit everything for its furthermost reaching comedic potential?

   “No, but he’s so beta being around him makes me feel like a top!”

   But what if he forgot it was a joke and confused himself into having a real feeling?

   “I would just like it if you didn’t hire people who use my servers to google gay porn ‘just to make sure’ they’re ‘not into it.’ I hope you hear the quotation marks because he literally said that to me!”

   No obviously he wouldn't get confused crushes weren’t contagious via exposure that was a dumb thing to worry about and also he was a genius that kind of thing didn’t happen to him.

   “He holds wrenches good, okay?!”

   Wait, were those two still talking?

   “I can hold wrenches without googling gay porn in another guy’s house! It’s possible.”

   Jesus what kind of conversation did Kokichi just decide to stop spacing out for?

“Oh come on! What do you want from me Keebs???”

   These two had… a lot to say to each other. Dr. Iruma was still holding onto Shuichi’s arm boob first, but Kokichi locked eyes with the detective and could tell they were both thinking the same thing.

   Why are they having this conversation in the middle of a hostage situation?

   “Nothing! Your human desires are totally valid Miu! Which is why I thought I would take care of this one.” The robot’s LED display eyes gestured up at Kokichi, who was still standing on top of him, poised to wreck him with a hammer.

   “How could any human desire that thing???” Dr. Iruma curled her lip. Hey, the feeling’s mutual, lady.

   “I don’t know, I thought you might have programmed me to not be able to see his face?”

   “I would never do that to you! Even if I was shagging the ugliest guy on the face of the planet, it would be unethical given the fact that you have sentience! I’m horny, not a monster. You can’t see his face because he’s wearing a fucking mask!”

   “Why am I not programmed to see that?”

   “I don’t fucking know, ask your dead dad!”

   Oooh. Wow. The robot gaped at that, seemingly speechless now.

   “If I may interject,” Kokichi interjected, “--and I know I can, because I just did, and also because I am still very much poised to pop this robot’s head off like a croquet ball-- I must confess that I was lying about fucking your mom, Astro boy. I’m less into participants of Titty out Tuesday who jerk it to steam punk school boy LARPing and more into the sorta tall, kinda dark, and very handsome type.”

   Dr. Iruma cowed again, stuttering something about not being a mom or a LARPer, while the robot started yelling about being called Astro boy.

   Kokichi tuned them out, giving Saihara a meaningful look. Saihara gave him a look that was equally meaningful, except the meaning was something along the lines of ‘Why the fuck would you say that?’

   Yeahh that was more like it.

   Kokichi laughed. Not one of his grandiose guffaws. It was more of a little chuckle. It surprised him. He hadn’t planned to laugh, but there it was. A small thing, just for him to know about, the humored breath not travelling beyond his mask.

   … It was probably time to get out of here, wasn’t it?

   The thing was, Kokichi had kind of pinned himself into a corner on this one… He had fully intended on decapitating this robot as a distraction for his escape, but now he wasn’t even sure if that was ethical. Logically he knew that a robot was not a human being, so there would be no form of consciousness extinguished from the world if he disconnected some of its wires and bolts. Yet the interaction it just had with Dr. Iruma concerned him. Obviously you don’t kill humans because they’re humans and obviously you don’t kill humans. But Kokichi was finding it hard to end the existence of something people treated like a human being either. To sever the bonds it had with sentient beings may be just a little less unethical than actually removing a sentient existence from the world, but it would still cause the emotional harm to actual humans of a dead loved one. So as annoying as fake metal humans were, Kokichi was left to ponder how exactly to get out of this one a different way

   Dr. Iruma was obviously a coward who talked a big game. If he retreated, he could count on her to get out his way, or else run to the robot’s side. Then the robot might be reactivated, but according to the robot’s blueprints, it didn’t really have any weapons on it, being built to act as a normal human being. So just like they had been white noise in the staredown he was still having with Saihara, their actions wouldn’t need to be factored into the escape.

   The only variable here was what the detective would do.

   … That thought had popped up in Kokichi’s head a lot recently, hadn’t it?

   Saihara had become a powerful influence in Kokichi’s planning very quickly, and because of the detective, the thief now found himself having to pull out one of his trump cards.

   Kokichi grabbed one of the EMP bombs from his pocket, remembering the pink cloud of smoke that had appeared before the camera cut out in the video demonstrations he’d seen online. His eyes were still locked on Saiharas, so he got to see in full detail the recognition, shock, and alarm that ran through them. As the detective yelled “Get down” and pushed Dr. Iruma back, Kokichi reflected on how those were some of his favorite expressions he’d ever seen.

   Kokichi pulled the latch out with his teeth and threw the bomb at the wall right over the detective’s head. Sure enough, pink smoke quickly enveloped him and Dr. Iruma.

   “Keebo!” The inventor screeched, no doubt worried about the EMP bomb turning him off. Though that was kind of stupid, considering his core programming would be the same regardless of having power to operate, even if he didn’t save whatever data was processed as his last few memories. Eh, then again who knew how robots that advanced worked?

   Taking his cue to exit, Kokichi threw the hammer through one of the nearby windows, and did somersault over to it. He got up on the ledge, kicking away the broken glass and was refamiliarizing himself with the lay out of the roof when a tug on his bag full of bombs suddenly set him off balance.

   Kokichi flipped around, trying to do a quick recovery by panickedly grabbing onto something. He did grab onto something. That something being the shoulders of a person whose hands were firmly grappling his bag.

   As far as Kokichi could tell, the scene from a third person perspective looked like he was trying to do the kabedon but rotated ninety degrees.

   From his own perspective, Saihara was holding his bag of loot while also being the only thing keeping Kokichi from falling onto the broken glass beneath them.

   As if that weren’t bad enough, Kokichi felt his hair brush the side of his face and realized that his mask had half fallen askew in his desperate movement, revealing three quarters of his face.

   “Hey.” Kokichi said. Lamely. Wow. Their faces were really close.

   Saihara wasn’t looking at him. The detective seemed to be trying to figure out how to untangle the straps of the bag of stolen goods from Kokichi’s arms without letting him fall.

   “It’s very clever, of you detective. Trapping me like this.” Kokichi tried to get a reaction.

   “You’re the one who jumped on the window.” Shuichi opened the bag, seemed to take in the fact that it was full of bombs, and closed it again to resume untangling the strap.

“You know, you could just leave the bag.” Kokichi pointed out

   “So could you.” Shuichi observed, astutely.

   “You could let me fall.” Kokichi suggested. “Then you’d have both.”

   “I’m not going to drop you on a pile of broken glass.” Shuichi promised.

   “But I broke the glass.” Kokichi admitted.    “Glass is glass and flesh is flesh. I’m not going to drop you on a pile of glass.” Shuichi reiterated like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“That’s nice.” Kokichi replied. “Naive. But super nice.”

   In this scenario, each of them had two options, each leading to one of two outcomes. He could let himself fall off the window and they could sit here and struggle over the bag until they bled out, a fight that Kokichi, not the most physically challenging, would be hard pressed to win. Or Shuichi could let Kokichi escape and Kokichi could let Shuichi win this one. The bag would be too heavy to take with him if he tried to get out the window from this position. He’d have to leave it behind. Kokichi would lose.

   He found himself laughing again. A strange, soft laugh. This time it was exposed to the air, his mask too askew to contain it.

   “You’re really something else, aren’t you Shuichi?”

   On hearing his name, the detective startled, finally looking up at Kokichi’s face.

   He just barely had the chance to catch Kokichi’s trademark grin, before the thief pushed up off of him, doing a backflip out of the window, and leaving his bag behind.

   As Kokichi landed on the roof tile running, he yelled out, “ I’m sure there’s a better word for you out there than sucker!”

   He turned around, sticking his tongue out at the broken window, before sliding his mask back onto his face.

   He may have been escaping, but it occured to Kokichi Ouma that he had lost for the first time in this little game of theirs. The thought made him giddy. It made his feet light on the roof top tile. It made him puff out a thousand tiny laughs behind the plastic shape of his face.

   It made him totally, definitely not bored. --- [Log of Messages sent via Discord to “Don't Instigate Cats (2019) Expatiation” from ???’s Cellular Device]

Boss: I’m bored of Taiwan already :/

Boss: We should go somewhere else (ﾉ✧w✧)ﾉ*:･ﾟ🗺

* * * Several people are typing... --- [Log of Text Messages from Rantarou Amami’s Cellular Device]

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

Hey

Hey

Asshole

From: Me

…

Should I respond to that?

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

You’re goddamn right you should respond to that when I tell you to you dumb avocado looking motherfucker

From: Me

Whoa

Ok

What’d I do this time?

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

You sent a useless emo prick to my door and now he won’t leave

From: Me

What

Did Shuichi do something wrong

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

Yeah

He was born

From: Me

Whoa

Miu take a breath

What happened

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

His boyfriend broke into my lab and tried to fucking kill keebs

From: Me

His boyfriend?

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

Yea

Clown twink ass motherfucker

From: Me

You mean like

The internationally wanted criminal clown he’s tracking down

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

You know whats internationally wanted

These tits

From: Me

Lol ok

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

That jerk off is just a rando asshole

He tried to kill keebo!

From: Me

Oh yikes is he ok

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

Well of course i fucking took care of him because im a bomb ass friend

But that suckhara guy was no help

He tried to convince me to check the fucking security cameras so he could go off and flirt with the guy about to decapitate keebs!

From: Me

I mean he probably had a good reason to want you to check the cameras right

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

No he’s just fucking awful and now he won’t leave rantarou make him leave

He broke my window and my hammer and only got back 23 of my EMP bombs

And now the police are here

From: Me

That sounds really stressful Miu

Wait how many bombs did you have before

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

24

From: Me

So he stopped most of your bombs from getting stolen

Also you have bombs?

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

Get him to leave he won’t leave

He keeps waiting for like interracial pole dancers to come or some fucking thing

From: Me

Do you mean like

Interpol

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

He won’t leave I want him to leave

From: Me

Miu you know I love you like a sister and i totally believe this is as stressful to you as it seems

But I think things may not be so bad?

Not to say what you’re going through right now isn’t totally valid

But things might look better if you got back to bed and caught some z’s

Did you remember to take your meds?

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

Aw shit

Aw fuck

You’re right

Ugh

Uggghghh

From: Me

Hey it happens to the best of us

If you do think Shuichi should leave in the morning when the cops are gone that’s totally up to you

It’s your lab and you have a right to say who should be in it

Just don’t make a decision like that when you need to sleep you know

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

But what if i ask him to go and then he doesn’t go

From: Me

He doesn’t have a choice, you get to tell him

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

But what if he’s mean to me

Cute people are always mean to me

From: Me

Miu…

Go to bed...

[scholar-thief]

[ RP LOG ]

Momori meets Cheche Dotharl. They collect clay. @cheche-dotharl

Momori can be seen leaving her tent, her arms full with a large sack that bulged in awkward places. She could scarcely see over her luggage, but despite that, she still strode on with a brisk pace.

Cheche is standing in place, though there's a pause as she hears someone approach. Her hands stop from her work, carving some sort of bone, as her gold eyes shift downwards as if to follow Momori's trajectory. She doesn't move out of the way for now, however, head head curiously tilted.

Momori collides into the au ra! The bag hits the floor, and several curious objects roll out from it. A small spade, several apples, and countless glass vials. Momori lies dazed on the floor, and looks up. Another expeditioner? And...what a way to make an introduction. She mumbles a few curses under her breath.

Cheche 's lips part very slightly, eyes blinking. Oh. "-- sorry. Are you all right?" She reaches, then looks a little surprised. Then keeps reaching. Keeps reaching and... ah. There she is. Momori is picked up and set on her feet and dusted before the xaela bends down, patting the ground as if to search for the various things she heard fall to the ground.

Momori lifts a finger to her neck, and nods at Cheche. “Hearts still pounding, so I should be good. Can’t say the same about my ego, though…You’re Cheche, right?” Momori shakes a vial from out of her sleeve, and begins to unceremoniously shove the bag’s contents back in with her foot.

Cheche is gentle in comparison, picking up as much as she could before offering the items one at a time. An apple here, a vial there... "Ah, then my apologies again about the ego. Yes, I am Cheche. And whom may I be speaking to...?"

Momori: “Momori. Charmed.” She brandishes the small gardening spade as though wielding a dagger, and tosses it gracefully in the air, catching it behind her back...then shoves it into the bag with a sigh. “Was about to go collect some clay samples from Voor Sian Siran, but…” She looks at the hulking mess of a bag. “...don’t suppose you have some free time to help out a weak and pitiful lalafell?”

Cheche nods. "-- a pleasure," she agrees easily. She offers a smile then, shaking her head. "I would not mind doing so, though I am still somewhat unfamiliar with this area. Too big with too many cliffs. If you lead the way, you have my hands at your disposal."

Momori gratefully hands the bag over to Cheche. “As long as you carry that, I’d be happy to lead on. Your very own seeing eye lalafell, heehee!” Momori’s face, usually stoic, shows Cheche a mischievous grin. Somehow, /somewhere/ she finds the situation humorous. “Let’s be off then! Suns dropping low, wouldn’t want to get caught out in the dark. You know what happens...in the dark.”

Cheche holds out her hand, accepting the bag offered. As everything, she carefully slings it over her shoulder to carry it, crossed over to the other side of her existent bag. "What does happen in the dark?" Her question is genuine, eyes upon Momori as if to follow her movements.

Momori: “Oh, just some tall tales I’ve heard from the locals. There’s a rotund, spirit, oh so jolly, decked in red and white. And, well....Let’s just hope you haven’t been up to anything naughty recently.” Momori gives Cheche an ominous look, her gaze steely and cold. Then proceeds to continue hiking towards their destination.

Cheche looks thoughtful to that, steps slow but keeping up easily with the shorter lalafell. "-- no, I have not heard of such a spirit," she muses. "Where does it hail from? What defines what is naughty? What happens to those that are?" Her questions are entirely honest, a rhythmic twitch of her tail as if she's paying attention.

Momori: “A land far, far separated from our own. From a place known only as...the North pole.” Momori leads the two of them around some gastronis, giving the wildlife a wide berth, just in case. “Naughty, well, like telling lies, or pulling pranks. Is that the sort of stuff you get into, Cheche?”

Cheche looks thoughtful again, her eyes picking up briefly to stare skywards. "-- no, I have not heard of such a place. What brings such a spirit so far away from home? It is rare for them to stray so far from where they hail." Her tail twitches again before she looks down back to Momori, shaking her head. "I do not think so. Do you?"

Momori: “An insatiable appetite for naughty souls, of course. Under the cover of darkness, unfortunate victims are simply whisked away, with but a lump of coal left at where they once stood…” Momori pauses for dramatic effect, and glances back at Cheche. “If not for your sake, then for mine, we should avoid the night.” She cracks a smile, not directly answering the au ra’s question, nor giving away any indication that she had made up the entire tale on the spot.

Cheche seems to take Momori's story very seriously, fingers gently drumming upon her lips. "-- well, if we find ourselves under the threat of such a spirit, I will do what I can to keep you safe. But you are right-- it best be that we do not venture late at night then. Or at least, if there is no choice, not to do so alone."

Cheche: "I forgot to ask," she belatedly mentions. "-- what do you need clay samples for?"

Momori nods, a little amused at how seriously Cheche is taking her story. She wonders if this is how all tall tales start.

Momori: “Oh, it’s for a project I’ve been working on. Ancient Sil’dih pottery that’s been shattered to near a thousand pieces. There’s a very particular clay around here that’s a good glue and stabilizing agent. That is, if we can find it, whilst avoiding the feisty wildlife.”

Cheche hums, thoughtful again. "-- shattered pottery. I am sorry to hear that. You are trying to fix it?" She doesn't seem to mind venturing into the water, it coming up to her ankles. "Would you rather I keep an eye out for the wildlife? Or... if there is a way to know how to recognize the right clay, I could help you seek it out."

Momori looks around, observing the shell-like patterns submerged underneath the water...which, by the way, nearly came all the way up to her waist. “Yep. There could be a pattern, or paintings on the outside of the pot. Worth studying, or at least conserving so later generations can enjoy it.” She then turns to Cheche and pokes the bag.

Momori: “The clay we’re looking for is almost pitch black, but we’ll have to dig around for it. I brought a bunch of apples to tame the wildlife, so let's start by tossing them places away from our digsite?”

Cheche shows a mild smile to that. "Of course. It is a noble effort." To Momori's description there's a brief 'ah', though she nods soon enough to her directions. "I have a knife. Would it be better for us to cut pieces and throw them, or put them away whole?"

Momori nods. “Cut it up, so we can have a few slices of our own. As nutritious as slop is, I haven’t had something sweet in a long time..I heard there were honey cakes, but by the time I dropped by, there weren’t even crumbs left.”

Cheche looks apologetic to that. "Ah, yes. They disappeared quite quickly, yes..." She looks for a little hunting knife, clearly hand-crafted from some sort of bone rather than metal forged. One of the apples are cut, and with each peace she'd lower it down to Momori's hands before pulling off another one.

Momori is quite pleased. Gear, carried. Apples, cut. This au ra was very helpful to have around! She chomped on her slice and eyed the strange knife that Cheche held in her hands. “Curious little blade you got there. Hand carved?”

Cheche nods, cutting up the rest of the apples to place around. "Ah, yes. Where I hail from, everything we own is made by our own hands. It is our way of life, after all." There's a pause. "Would you like another piece?"

Momori nods, and grabs another piece of apple. She then gives Cheche her best impression of puppy dog eyes, though when merged with her resting bitch face, Momori just looks kind of....strange. “Could I take a look at the blade?”

Cheche 's expression doesn't quite change, still staring towards Momori as if to regard her. "Ah, yes. Of course." She offers the blade, making sure as not to point the sharper end towards the lalafell. "Would you like me to set the apples out while you do?"

Momori is already deeply engrossed in observing the blade. Her eyes light up in a way that they haven't before. She snaps back to attention. “Huh? Oh, yes. Toss the apples around.”

Cheche does that indeed. Momori would find that she's not accurate AT ALL, but at least it doesn't matter as much as long as they're scattered. The blade is simple but seems to do its job, mostly half of it flattened and sharpened at one side. The hilt is decorated, carved with foreign patterns that likely have worn down with time.

Momori: “These patterns...I can’t say I know much of Othgardian culture. Do they symbolize something? Tell a story, or picture a god?” Momori stares at Cheche with a bright intensity. The lalafell demeanor has shifted, dramatically. Her once flat gaze is now lit up with passion that is almost overwhelming.

Cheche looks back to Momori, the tip of her tail rising slightly with attention. "Ah. Well. They all mean different things, yes." She lowers herself by bending her knees, more of her longer tail submerged in the water. Her hand carefully touches Momori's arm, searching its way to the dagger to locate the hilt. She points to each pattern with her finger, explaining the different animals that they represent.

Momori eagerly listens to Cheche’s explanation, gobbling up the information with increased fervor. It wasn’t often she could learn about such a foreign culture, straight from the source. Only the feeling of water in her boots snapped her out of the trance - that’s right, the clay! Momori forced herself to peel her attention away from the dagger. “I would love to have you tell me more. But! My feet are starting to feel pruned, and the clay isn’t going to dig itself out.”

Cheche chuckles a litttle to that, straightening up. "Of course. Clay." She accepts the dagger back, plucking it up carefully before returning it to its leather sheathe. It's placed back to her belongings. "So, how does one go about collecting such? Do I simply... dig?"

Momori: “Dig, dig, dig! With this, though.” Momori pulls the gardening spade from the bag. She then looks down at the water, and her brow furrows. “Ugh, it’s going to be messy digging with water slooshing everywhere. I didn’t think of that.”

Cheche accepts the spade, examining it with her hands. She feels it carefully, looking confused for a moment. "-- ah. Is this a dagger?" Her head tilts to Momori, then looks downwards. "If you do not wish to, I could do it."

Momori: “Unless you were trying to kill someone slowly and inefficiently, I wouldn’t use that as a dagger. Though, it is an interesting idea...could have some use during...hmm...” Momori thinks to herself, seriously considering the idea of using a gardening spade in a clearly terrible way. “Anyway, please, go ahead! Just stab the soft ground with it and start making a hole. Meanwhile, I’ll try to figure out a way to drain the water.”

Cheche does just that, squatting down proper to poke at the ground. She does so quite literally, stabbing and stabbing and stabbing and... not getting anywhere. At least she's got the spirit, her expression firm with concentration.

(Momori) HMM (Momori) is. is she just. stabbing??! the same spot?!? (Cheche) yes (Momori) PLES..... im cry (Cheche) the ground got what it deserved (Momori) 911 id like to report a murder (Cheche) GOT WHAT IT DESERVED!!!!!!

Momori wanders off and eyes a large limpet, attached to stone that peeked up from the water. Using her dagger, she slices around it and forces it off. With the mollusk’s flesh discarded, its shell made a decent enough container to lug water in. She comes back to find Cheche just. Stabbing! Stabbing away. There’a blossom of brown dirt in the water at where this is happening.

Momori: “..............How’s the hole coming along?”

Cheche just... keeps stabbing. The mud is really getting what it had coming for it. "-- ah. I am unsure if it is... working?" Her head tilts. "I could try using my hands. Or am I wielding it incorrectly?"

Momori doesn’t know what to say at first. It’s kind of entertaining to watch Cheche stab the dirt like a crazed murderer, but on the other hand, she needed clay! Letting this continue would probably just result in a mud hole. “Try pushing the spade towards yourself, and then scooping the dirt away. And if that doesn’t work, yes, use your hands.”

Cheche stares with newfound focus, trying as she's told. She's... somewhat successful! Her tail flicks upwards with her newfound knowledge, likely sending some water flying behind her. "-- ah, I see. You called this object a spade?" She tries a few more times, tail plopping to the water with a mild splash before flicking from side to side.

Momori blinks. Does Cheche not know what a spade is? Momori bends over, using her limpet bucket to scoop some water away from the hole that is steadily being dug. “Spade. It’s used for digging, gardening…” Momori can’t help herself. A tell-tale grin spreads on her lips. “...and for eating. Yes. A useful tool to have around!”

Cheche hums. "I see. A tool that is used in a multitude of ways..." She seems to believe Momori, clearly fascinated at the object. "I can see how it would be helpful, yes. It is very effective. Do you often use such a tool?"

Momori: “All the time. Perhaps when we’re back at camp, I can show you it’s other uses.” Momori pours away some brown water, and then peers into the hole. Something black, and markedly more dense, lies underneath a few ilms of dirt. “Hm! I think we’ve found what we’re looking for.”

Cheche 's expression brightens, or has it? Compared to before, maybe. "You would? Ah, of course." She turns her attention back, digging a little quicker. They have clay to obtain!!

(Momori) hehe the two of them using....g...gardening spades at dinner time (Cheche) truly a romantic dinner (Cheche) wine involved (Momori) such fancy (Cheche) thank god (Momori) wine, gruel, and spades (Cheche) THANK GOD (Momori) FINALLY...some good food (Cheche) scoops the clay up to eat (Momori) HUFFS (Momori) NO!! (Momori) the forbidden sauce (Cheche) delicious (Momori) bloody good eating

Momori grabs a glass vial and fills it to the brim with the black clay, and a bit of water. There’s plenty of clay being dug out by Cheche, in mounds all around the original hole. By visiting these piles, Momori quickly fills all the vials. Messy, but a job well done! She looks to the camera, deadpan. “Nice.”

Cheche straightens up at the confirmation, having to stretch a little from spending so long squatted down. She's entirely COVERED with clay and mud, but it doesn't seem to bother her. "Did you manage to get what you needed?"

Momori stares at Cheche and laughs. “Hah! Thal’s balls...do you know where Cheche is? All I see is a mudman in front of me.”

Cheche chuckles, brushing some of the mud off to wash off with the water. "Never seen her. But if you do, please let me know." She nods to Momori. "Did you need anything else?"

Momori: “That’s all for today. You’ve been a big help, I should take you along for all my work…” She gives Cheche a thumbs up. Off in the distance, a gross slorping noise can be heard, as the local water slugs gorge themselves on the apple slices. The sun is just beginning to dip beneath the horizon. “We should get moving, while the fauna are still distracted by our bait. And before, well, the spirit comes around to harvest my soul.”

Cheche smiles. "Gotten into much mischief, then? I would be eager to get washed, myself. It has been a pleasure working with you, Momori." She nods again. "There is little for me to offer, but if you have the need of my assistance, you only need ask." After a brisk motion, she sets out to follow the lalafell back to camp... likely to learn of the "correct" use of spades and who knows what else.

[blackarmyslave]

//their tale//

Written for Day 2 of Ray's appreciation week! GAAHHHH can't believe I'm late. School sucks like jnkdbfkerkglanw Is this still acceptable tho? Lol tagging @ikerev-appreciation anyways

➵ Theme: Campfire

➵ Genre: I honestly don't even know anymore

➵ Word count: 2017

➵ Notes: spoilers for Ray's route! Also, I changed a few things to paint just what I had in mind ;)

☆☆☆☆☆

Year 2000

Under the bright full moon that illuminated all of Cradle, bright flames flickered and wood crackled and burned amidst a certain forest-- a forest that showcased a tall, ancient tower, now in ruins. The chilly night breeze made the nearby flaglets dance and curl in the wind. Flaglets-- flaglets painted in both red and black. Several thousand of them were planted all over Cradle's native soil, telling them of their motherland's history. A gruesome, bloody history, indeed... yet just as beautiful and mesmerizing. And a part of their history included a tale. A tale of how a country, once divided into two, the idea of unity long forgotten, had joined because of a single lady. A lady that fell under the most powerful spell of all.

Love.

An old couple was having a campfire at the heart of the forest. Their son and his wife, along with their three kids, had come with them to listen to the said tale.

"Alright, children, gather 'round," the grandfather huddled the kids closer. A radiant light shone in his eyes, perfectly mirroring the kids'. "Shall I begin retelling the greatest tale of Cradle?"

The three children squealed in delight. They've heard snippets of it; from their teachers and classmates. And now, they would finally hear the entirety of it.

"Yes please, grandpa!" The eldest of the three, a girl about ten, chirped.

Their grandmother just chuckled under her breath, watching the four by the sidelines while handing out s'mores to the younger couple sitting on a log nearby, a knowing smile on their lips.

Oh, they were in for a ride.

The grandfather cleared his throat and started, "Long, long ago, before our modern use of magic and the grand life everyone currently has, Cradle had been split into two: Red and Black. They--"

"Huh? Why were we divided?" The youngest child interrupted with wide, curious eyes.

The eldest whacked him lightly. "Shh! Grandpa'll get to that."

The grandfather merely shook his head at their antics. "Now, now, children. Be patient. I'll tell everything you need to know."

All three obeyed, quietly munching on chips and marshmallows. When all was quiet once more, and the fire's crackle was all that can be heard, the old man continued.

"Alright... because of the division, Cradle had been filled with political dispute and rivalry. It was a place filled with constant tension, a war threatening to break out any second. The two opposing sides were armies: the Red Army, with the Hearts and Diamonds Quarter... and the Black Army, with Spades and Clubs. The Red Army used magic in combat and formed ranks by lineage. The Black Army used pure manpower alone and ranks were based by strength. Their dispute lasted for over 500 years, passing from generation to generation. The idea of unity of had been long forgotten, the prospect of mixing red and black in a single banner to represent Cradle considered absurd.

"But then, two women - both in different times - arrived at Cradle. Well, they fell, actually. Coming from a world parallel to ours; The Land of Reason, connected to our world by a rabbit hole that only appears during the full moon, they fell, down and down and down that rabbit hole... Until they dropped from Cradle's starry sky, and ended up in our bloody land."

He made hand movements, the campfire's light creating shadows in the rocky soil, and voice dramatic and solemn. The children looked in awe. Bright, youthful minds painting images of how it must've felt, falling from high up above, and what did the rabbit hole look like...

"There was a difference, though. The first woman who fell - Alice - did not really make a difference. That is, aside from being able to deflect and cancel magic, instead of use it. This is because The Land of Reason is governed by laws of science, unlike ours that's mystical. Now Alice I didn't stay long here in Cradle. Well, after all, it was a wartorn place that just didn't follow the usual rules of physics she's used to. As soon the next month's full moon rose high in the sky, and the rabbit hole connecting our two worlds reappeared, Alice I jumped right into it. Erasing her existence in Cradle and never heard of from again."

Silence filled them, the children's delicacies long forgotten as they slowly process the details. The fire was roaring by now and the stars up above looked imposing. As if it, too, was listening, and affirming that all the grandfather was saying really happened. By the sidelines, the parents wondered-- Had Alice the First fallen in love like the Second, would she have stayed?

Would both stories have ended differently?

Slowly, a smile formed on the old man's aging face. Then he continued, "But Alice II was different... she'd fallen under a spell even she cannot rebuke. The most powerful magic of all."

"... An impenetrable spell? What's that supposed to mean?" The middle-born child couldn't resist asking, speaking in a low voice, as if afraid to break the solemnity of the air that enveloped them. And also because his sister might whack him for being noisy.

"You see, when she fell down, someone had been there to catch her: that time's King of Spades. His name-- Blackwell, if memory serves me right. Now after Alice's very long and confusing first night here, Blackwell offered her a deal. The Black Army would protect Alice for the entirety of her stay here; which was for a month, the amount of time before the link between our worlds reappear. And in return, during her stay with them, she'd have to use her ability to deflect magic when they need it.

"She'd agreed. And so began to blossom their love, which is probably what your sister's been dying to hear about the most," the grandfather smirked, breaking free of his serious monologue for a while to tease his blushing granddaughter who obviously can't wait to learn about the juicier details.

"So... What made their story different from any other is because we can all relate to it, but at the same time not. Blackwell, like other men, had given his woman a pendant. Blackwell, like many others, showed a side of him that's only been witnessed by his special someone. Sounds pretty plain, no?

"But not all can be as selfless as him. Blackwell had been fully aware that Alice was afraid of our world. And so he'd done everything to keep her from fear and danger. No, even when there were disputes between the two armies, despite their initial agreement, he never requested for dear Alice's presence. He never dragged her into the war, not wanting to hurt her. And he never bothered to tell her he loved her right from the start."

A gasp fell from the lips of the three.

"Oh, little did he know, Alice loved him, too."

Another gasp, probably comical to the adults' ears if they didn't know just how darkly the story ended.

"But neither of them ended up making a move.

Came a third gasp. All three cried out, "Why?"

"Because Blackwell was working hard!" Their grandfather explained with a bitter laugh. "He was doing everything that he can to protect Alice, to return her to her world safe and sound, to return her to her normal days governed by laws of physics, where she didn't have to be afraid of the uncertainties of Cradle's way of life. To restore that contented smile on her lips as she goes back to her work and lives as simply as a mouse. He knew she was scared of this world, and didn't have it in him to ask her to stay in such an alien world."

"... What of Alice?" One of them spoke up.

"She was aware of it, alright. And she understood it-- that the man she loves is a man who values the freedom of going about your usual days. That's why he's so strongly against the Reds who use magic. Because he knew that magic, due to its tremendous power, also brought danger in turn; and that danger had ruined countless lives. He wanted to make Cradle a place where no one has to get hurt because of carelessly excessive use of magic, where no one had to be robbed of the freedom to live peacefully.

"And also a place where people with innate magical capabilities don't have to be afraid. He wants to build a Cradle where those who are born magically gifted don't have to be condemned by fear of hurting someone. Do you know why? ... Because he's one of them. Blackwell has a gift of using magic. And he'd hurt, and he'd ruined - ended, actually - lives. Which is why he's so against using magic. Because he doesn't want someone to die again because of it."

The grandfather was now talking fast like he was being rushed, and he had to remind himself to pause to allow the children to drink it all in. It was obvious they hadn't expected that; their jaws were slack, eyes wide, gears inside those heads rapidly turning as they realize many things at once.

Blackwell can use magic... very strong magic. And he'd killed in accident because of the danger that came with that strength. Because of that, he doesn't want to use magic anymore, and that caused his ideals to war with the Reds who do exactly the opposite.

And he knows just how important a normal day is, a day where there's no war about to break out. That fueled him with the drive to return Alice to her world where she's safe.

While in turn, Alice understood all of that. And respected that. Which is why she forced herself to want to go home... so that all his effort of protecting her won't be in vain.

"Oh, they never ended up. Alice returned to the Land of Reason after she'd helped defeat the bad guys; the Magic Tower's disciples, and most especially-- Amon Jabberwock," the grandmother spoke up, nonchalantly finishing the story in a flash, pointing at the eerie, broken tower just a hundred or so meters away. "Meaning, Alice helped the Red and Black Armies join to overthrow the Magic Tower, which is why our flag now contains both red and black. She's worked hard to restore unity in both armies. But after that, even though she loved the King of Spades, she returned to her own world... Not that your grandfather would bother with those historical details. He just cares about the drama," she grumpily added under her breath. Her husband just rolled his eyes with a guilty smile.

"Hmph. So much for happy endings," the second child huffed, munching down his marshmallow that had long gone cold-- much like his heart, cold and empty, torn by the saddest story he'd heard yet.

"Nooooo, I won't accept this! Grandpa, tell me you're lying!" The eldest shook her grandfather's shoulders vigorously in denial.

The youngest just furrowed his brows in confusion. "But don't they love each other? Why didn't Alice II stay?"

Their mother, who'd now come closer to pry her daughter off their now-dizzy grandfather, chuckled. "Why, Liam, love isn't as simple as that."

"Why not...?"

"Because it's love," she gently explained. "And because it's love, it requires a lot of other things."

"Like what?"

"The right timing, for instance. Ray Blackwell and Alice II just met at the wrong time, under the wrong circumstances."

"But aren't they adults already?"

The mother just laughed and ruffled her son's hair. "Lemme rephrase that. It's not timing. It's fate. Maybe they're just not meant to be for one another..."

But then something made her change her mind, looking up above at the cloudless, midnight sky. She just saw a shooting star cross the earth. The full moon looked bigger than usual to her, its light seemingly brighter. Something about those made her heart do a little skip. She smiled.

"Well, not in this lifetime, at least."

☆☆☆☆☆

I literally dont know what the genre is yakcutebnlqpakbef xD tbh this was supposed to be smut ( ͡ಥ ͜ʖ ͡ಥ) basically the black army having a bonfire/campfire and ray and alice sneaking away to do the nasty buuuut writing "campfire" like this sounded better to me than that haha. And what do you mean I'm trying to make Ray's route sound much better? But had failed because I cant write for shit and was only half-awake while making this and didn't bother to proofread because IM ALREADY LATE AF

[alice1290]

Read All About It - An Ace/OC fanfic - Chapter 6

Strolling hand in hand down the streets of Fishman Island made it almost feel as if they were a normal couple, not a pirate captain and a Revolutionary.

“So, my partner gave me a good nickname.”

“Better than missus?” Ace teased.

She rolled her eyes. “Yes. He called me the Revolutionary Spade. Really the Red-haired Revolutionary Spade, but that’s a bit much.”

“Eh, too long for a bounty poster. Revolutionary Spade is better.”

Ashina shot him a playful glare. “I’m still trying to not obtain one of those.”

“Sorry, missus,” he teased, gently bumping her shoulder. “with me you’ll end up with one in no time. Just wait ‘til Isuka knows your name: Ashina the Revolutionary Spade.”

“Ugh, at least with Missus they don’t know my real name.”

Ace laughed and let go of her hand, only to loop his arm over her shoulders and pull her closer. “I’m hungry,” he said, catching the smell of food in the air. “Let’s get some food.”

When he spotted the ramen shop, he remembered it being one of her favorite foods, so he dragged her inside with him. The menu was small, but the place smelled amazing.

They ordered and true to her normal self, Ashina only ate one bowl. It was a large bowl, but still, Ace wondered if she ate enough sometimes.

“Are you sure you’re full?” he asked, swallowing a mouthful of noodles and meat.

She giggled. “Yes, Ace. Are you? That’s your eighth bowl.”

“Almost.”

Ashina giggled again, propping her head up on her fist, elbow resting on the bartop. “You really are a bottomless pit.”

As soon as he was finished Ace grabbed her hand and strolled out of the restaurant.

“Ace, what are you-”

They made it a few paces down the street with the store owner shouted.

“Stop them! They haven’t paid.”

“Come on!” Ace shouted, breaking out in a run.

Ashina kept pace with him, grumbling at him for his dine and dash antics. By the time they outran the people chasing them, and were officially lost someone on the island, she was laughing. They came to a stop and Ashina bent over, hands on her knees, as she tried to catch her breath between laughter.

“What the hell, Ace, I could have paid.”

“Sorry, it’s a bit of a habit.”

She rolled her eyes as he shrugged. Ashina looked around as she stood straight. “Why don’t we find our way back to the market and then to the ship. The log pose should be set soon.”

Ace grinned. “Let’s go.”

It was easy to find their way back to the heart of the city by the noise of the crowd. Ace stayed close to her as they weaved their way through fishmen, merfolk, and other humans. His hand occasionally touched the small of her back, directing her one way or another since he could see over the crowd better than her.

“Thanks to you and all that running, now I want a snack,” she commented.

“You should have eaten more ramen.”

“I was full then!”

Ace just laughed, but his eyes scanned the streets around them. He pointed to the left and grinned. “There’s a takoyaki stand over there.”

“Oo!” she squealed with excitement and took his hand, dragging him behind her through the crowd. “Hurry up, Ace.”

They reached the stand and Ashina looked over the selection. “I’ll take one regular and one spicy, please.”

The fishman behind the stand expertly flipped four of the regular little balls into a cup and handed it to her before doing to the same from the pile of spicy takoyaki. Ashina handed Ace the spicy one and then dug out the requested amount of beri from her pouch. Once she paid, she looped her free arm through his and they started walking again.

She dropped his arm once they were clear of the crowd, and popped one of the little balls into her mouth. She hummed in satisfaction. “That’s yummy. Ramen and takoyaki, we’re going to make our way back to Fishman Island one day, just for the food. By the way, you never did say what the fight with Draw was about.”

Ace scratched the back of his head, ruffling his hair. “Oh, well… uh… he offered me a position as a Shichibukai, and I said no.”

“He did what?” Ashina stopped walking and stared at Ace with wide, surprised eyes. “Wait, you said no?”

“The Shichibukai work for the World Government, and I don’t want to answer to them. I’m a pirate, not a marine’s dog.” Ace looped his arm back around her waist and pulled her closer. “Come on,” he said, starting to walk again.

Ashina smiled as she fell into step with his pace. “They won’t like that you turned down their offer.”

“Draw didn’t. He did say he doesn’t like the idea of the Shichibukai either, but he got mad I rejected the offer. He set fire to some buildings and risked some people’s lives just to push my buttons. He pissed me off, and we started fighting.”

Ashina grinned as they reached the ship. “Your bounty is going to increase because of that, you know that, right?”

“That’s a good thing.” He gave her a big grin making Ashina laugh.

“Let’s go, Fire Fist.”

.

.

.

“So, Captain, where are we headed now?” Saber asked as the rest of the crew gathered on the deck of the Spadille.

The question caught Ashina’s attention and she looked up from the book in her hand. Ace grinned at the crew. “I’m going to find the man who saved my brother’s life when he was a little kid. Luffy used to talk all the time about Red-haired Shanks, so I’m going to find him and thank him.”

Ashina felt the blood drain from her face. Ace had never asked about her parents, and she’d never volunteered the information. In all of their late-night conversations, after the moments that shared Ace’s admittance that Gol D Roger was his father, they didn’t talk about it. Ace knew he mother was gone and that he father was somewhere out in the world, but… now it felt like she was going to have to come clean.

“Rumor I heard in the market is that he’s on a winter island,” Saber said.

Ace nodded. “We’ll go there first and see where the journey takes us. When I finally encounter Whitebeard, I’ll prove I’m going to be King of the Pirates.”

“Um… Ace,” Ashina began, getting to her feet. “I feel like now might be a good time to mention something.”

“What?” he asked, clearly confused. “I know you don’t like the cold, but-”

She cut him off with a dismissive wave of her hand and blurted, “Red-haired Shanks is my father.”

Deuce and Saber’s eyes practically popped out of their heads and Banshee gave an unlady-like curse. Mihar and Skull shared a chuckle. Ace stared at her.

“What?” Ace managed to stammer out.

“Red-haired Shanks is my father,” she repeated.

“Oh. Well…” He looked unsure of what to say next as he shuffled his feet.

“It’s okay!” Ashina blurted reassuringly. Ace, I love my Papa. He’ll be surprised to see me I’m sure, since the last time he saw me he was leaving me on the doorstep of the Revolutionary Army. It’s been five years, I’d like to see him.”

Ace beamed and pulled her in for a hug, keeping an arm around her waist and close to his side as he turned to face the crew. “Set sail, men!”

Ace gave orders as Ashina stood beside him and the crew scurried around the deck as they set sail out from Fishman Island, preparing to enter the New World. Her first adventure on the second half of the Grand Line and she was going to see her father.

“Hey, Ace?”

“Huh?” He stopped giving orders and looked down at her.

“It might be a good idea to notlet my father know we’re a thing. I’d hate for him to kill you.”

Ace frowned, but nodded, agreeing to her suggestion.

“How’re we going to find him? Which island do we travel to?” Deuce asked, stopping beside them.

“Oh!” Ashina exclaimed, slipping a hand into her pouch. “I have the solution for that.” She withdrew the slip of blank paper. “I have his vivre card.”

.

.

.

“Can you use your Haki to tell where they are?” Ace asked.

He was standing close behind her, keeping her warm with his internal fire. “I could, but the vivre card will lead us to him.”

She shivered and Ace pulled her closer, keeping an arm wrapped around her front. It wasn’t snowing right now, but the cold, biting wind was relentless. “Let’s get moving then.”

It wasn’t long into their trek that the snow began. The further into the snowy mountains they walked, the harder the wind blew and the more snow fell.

“The snow storm is getting worse. Even with your extra heat,” Mihar commented.

“We’ll keep going until we find them.”

“Are you serious, Captain?” Saber yelled.

“I want to meet him. We keep going no matter what.”

Ashina just shook her head, trudging through the freezing snow behind Ace. Being near him was slightly warmer than the surrounding temperature, but that would end as soon as they reached her father. She didn’t want to give him any ideas that Ace and her were in fact lovers, mainly because she preferred her lover alive. It was late as they neared the cave opening and the sound of voices and smell of wood smoke reached them.

She already dreaded the idea of having to sleep through the night not curled up to Ace. Ashina fell back into the mix of the crew as they reached the mouth of the cave, suddenly nervous to see her father again. Deuce picked up on her actions, and stepped to the left, effectively blocking her from view.  

“Who goes there?” One of the Red-Haired Pirates yelled out, Ashina recognized Yassop’s voice.

“I’m Captain Portgas D Ace of the Spade Pirates.”

“So,” a voice Ashina instantly recognized as her father’s answered. “The Spade Pirates? The famous Super Rookies… have come for me?” The slick of his sword being partially withdrawn echoed in the quiet cave.  

“No, no that’s not what I’m here for,” Ace said quickly, shaking his hands in front of him. “My little brother owes you his life and he never stopped talking about you growing up! I just wanted to meet you and say thanks.”

“You mean Luffy?” Shanks replied excitedly, letting his sword fall back into its sheath. “I never knew he had a brother! I see. I’m glad you came. Please tell me more.”

“Oh, sure,” Ace hesitated and looked behind him, eyes scanning his crew, before he turned back to the Yonko. “but I brought another surprise.”

Ace turned sideways, looking back at Ashina, who was still partially hidden by Deuce, and she took a breath before stepping forward. Shanks took her in and his eyes widened as his smile grew bigger.

“Hi, Papa.” She gave him a small smile and a little wave.

“My baby girl!” Shanks jumped up.

“She ain’t a baby no more,” one of the men near the back of the cave said, earning a glare from Shanks before he turned his attention back to Ashina.

Shanks swept her up with his one arm, easily lifting her off her feet. All the worry and nerves left her instantly as she relaxed into the strong, loving embrace of her father. She returned the hug just as fiercely, burying her face in the collar of his shirt to inhale the familiar scent of ocean, sweat, booze, and something distinctly Shanks. She pressed a kiss to his cheek as he set her back on her feet.

“What are you doing in the New World with pirates?” he questioned, a teasing grin on his face. “I dropped you with the Revolutionary Army, not Rookie pirates.”  

Ashina shrugged. “Got separated on a mission for Dragon. Orders were to stay with the Spades for now. Maybe he wants to see what’s happening on this side of the world? Who knows?” She skirted around the real truth that Dragon gave her a choice and she chose to stay with Ace… for a multitude of reasons.

Shanks seemed to accept her answer and nodded, but turned a hard gaze to Ace. “Keep an eye on my daughter, Rookie.”

Ace nodded quickly. “Yes, sir.”

Shanks grinned then and spun around to his men. “Let’s have a party!”

.

.

.

This was awful. The idea of Ashina not sleeping beside him, curled into his warmth as she did every night never crossed his mind. Every night she lay in his arms, but not this one, and he felt a fool for not understanding sooner what she meant when she said to not let her father know they were a thing. All night she avoided being near him, because when they were near, they gravitated closer and always wound up touching.

Of course, her sleeping with him would clue her father in to the truth of their relationship. A truth he wasn’t sure he wanted to face the consequences for, because there would be consequences. One arm or not, Shanks was still a powerful Yonko, and Ace wasn’t wishing to test the man’s ability.

Ace glanced across the room and spotted those green orbs in the dying light of the fire. Ashina couldn’t sleep either. They stared at each other across the cave, neither speaking for fear of waking the others. Ace watched as she silently sat up and then stood. She made no sound as she tiptoed her way gracefully around the sleeping bodies of two pirate crews, keeping her blanket hugged tight to her shoulders. She folded herself gracefully down to the ground, and he scowled at her, even as he lifted his own blanket for her to slide in beside him.

Ashina hummed softly in her throat as she pressed her back against his chest. He amped up his internal temperate and she hummed softly again. Ace pressed his lips into her hair as he slipped a hand around her waist to pull her impossibly closer.

“What happened to not letting him know we’re together?” Ace asked softly, a teasing lilt to his voice.

He felt her shrug one shoulder. “It’s cold and I can’t sleep without you.”

“Your father is going to kill me in the morning. You know that, right?” he whispered in her ear.

She turned in his embrace to face him and dipped her head below his. Her lips pressed against the hollow of his throat. “Maybe, but it will be worth the warm night of sleep.”

He could feel the smile on her lips and huffed out a breath through his nose before pressing his lips to the top of her head. He couldn’t argue with her logic and he’d use any excuse to hold her slender frame against his.

.

.

.

The morning sun was beginning to rise and fill the cave with light when Shanks woke up. It took him a moment to remember it was real, but he quickly turned his head to look at his daughter. She was no longer on the mat she had fallen asleep on, and he frowned. He scanned the cave, scowling when he spotted her red hair.

“What you make o’ that, Captain?” Benn spoke quietly from beside him, already awake.  

Shanks’ frown deepened as he studied the pair. They were lying facing each other and the curve and ripple of the blanket made it obvious the Rookies’ arm was curled tight around her waist, holding her close to his chest. His other arm pillowed her head. Her red hair was wild around them and the boy’s nose was buried in the wavy locks.

“I don’t like it, whatever it is.”

“You left her alone at fourteen with the Revolutionaries. Had to of known she’d grown up.”

Shanks sighed, unable to take his eyes away from his little girl, who was clearly no longer a little girl. “She’s growing up too soon. It shouldn’t be time for her to be doing…” he waved his hand at the sleeping pair. “things with boys.”

“Ace isn’t a boy, and she’s not a little girl anymore, Boss. At least she found a strong man.”

Shanks glared at Benn. “He’s still a Rookie… and I don’t have to like him, especially seeing as his hands are on my daughter… but he … he looks familiar,” Shanks trailed off, studying the sleeping Rookie.

“How so?”

Shanks shook his head. “What are the chances though?”

“Of what, Boss?” Benn asked, not following his captain’s random train of thought.

“I think he’s Roger’s kid,” Shanks breathed out.

Shanks stared hard at the dark mop of hair. It was dark and wavy like his former Captain’s had been. He’d caught glimpses of Roger’s ghost in Ace’s smile and eyes in firelight of the party. He’d also noticed the shared glances between him and Ashina. Shanks should have known they’d be together. He tried not to think too much on how they passed their time, he was more worried about her future. Being a pirate was dangerous, and the Rookie had big dreams. Ashina was smart, and strong, but a father worried for his daughter.

His only child. He knew she would remain secret no longer. Her secrecy was his only request to Dragon when he left her with the Revolutionary Army five years ago. Keep her secret, she’s already a skilled kunoichi like her mother, train her to be stronger, stealthier, help her remain unseen, unknown. With Ace, the Marines would soon learn of her, and there would be no mistaking who her father was. Shanks only hoped Ashina was ready for the dangers she would encounter here in the New World. He also hoped the young man, who he was positive was his captain’s son, would be strong enough to protect himself and her.

.

.

.

“Where’s Papa?” Ashina asked, looking around the cave in the early morning light.

“Went outside since the snow storm calmed,” Benn answered. He gave her a knowing look. “Was wanting to speak to you.”

Ashina frowned slightly but nodded. She pulled her fur cloak tighter around her shoulders and headed out of the mouth of the cave. He wasn’t far from the entrance, perched on a snow-covered boulder near one of the only, scraggly evergreen trees that stood near the cave. He looked up as she walked over, but did not speak. She hopped up onto the rock and leaned into his side. She still found it strange sometimes that he was missing his left arm. She remembered when it was still there and the year he had returned and it was gone.

“The Rookie’s Devil Fruit seems to have lessened the snow storm,” Shanks commented, breaking the silence.

“He’s strong.”

Shanks snorted. “He’s young and reckless.”

“Weren’t you young and reckless once?”

Shanks grinned at her. “You callin’ your old man old?”

Ashina giggled and shook her head. “Never, Papa.” Ashina paused and then added. “Ace is strong and he’ll only get stronger.”

“Strength is good, Ashina, but it will bring danger.”

“I’m not afraid,” she stated with confidence.

Shanks kissed the top of her head. “Of course you’re not. You’re your mother’s daughter after all. You look like her more and more each time I see you, Ashina.”

He was quiet for a moment and they both watched the softly falling snow. “I wasn’t much older than you when you were born.”

“Papa…” Ashina cut in, hoping he wasn’t going there. Her mother gave her the embarrassing sex talk, and she didn’t really want to hear her father stumble through it.

“I want you to be careful, Ashina.”

“We are careful, Papa.”

“We? So you are having sex with the Rookie?” Shanks leaned back, his eyes narrowed and his cheeks slightly red with anger.

Ashina waved a dismissive hand. “He’s not my first, Papa.”

Shanks waved his hands in front of him and shouted. “I don’t want to know this about my baby girl! Now I have two boys to murder. It is just two, yes?”

“Papa!” Ashina felt her cheeks burn from her blush. He wasn’t wrong, but she wasn’t going to admit that either.

Shanks smiled good naturedly and bumped his shoulder to hers. “Please be careful, Ashina. You have big dreams. I hope you still have those dreams. Don’t let them go because of a boy.”

“I still want to change the world, Papa, and I can still do that being a Spade pirate. But… you know, I didn’t stop your dreams.”

Shanks sighed. “I wasn’t a good father either.”

Ashina frowned and took his hand in hers. “Of course you were, you are, Papa. Just because you weren’t there all the time doesn’t mean you were a bad father. You’re a pirate Papa, I learned what that meant and how much it meant to you. A pirate drop anchor in one place? Papa you’d be bored out of your mind,” she said on a giggle, making him smile. She paused for a beat and then added softly. “I don’t plan on babies, Papa.”

“Things happen, Ashina.”

“Well, fuck, Papa don’t jinx me! Jeez. We’re careful. I’m careful. I promise.”

“Good. I want you to be happy. Doesn’t mean I don’t want to wring the Rookie’s neck for touching my daughter.”

Ashina giggled and leaned in to kiss his cheek. “I think you’re allowed to feel that way, just please don’t act on it.” She rested her head on his shoulder and he squeezed her hand.

“I love you, Papa.”

“Love you, Baby Girl.”

.

.

.

Shanks wasn’t ready to tell Ashina goodbye as they stood next to the Spadille in the late morning sun. Growing up, he’d made it happen where he could see her once a year, with the exception of a few times where it just didn’t work, for a few days. Then she’d traveled with him for a year before he dropped her with the Revolutionary Army on Baltigo. That was five years ago. She was nineteen now, a young woman in her own right, but she would always be his little girl. It worried him that he didn’t know when he’d see her again. Not to mention the lurking, deaded thought of ifand not when.

“Stay safe,” he whispered, pulling her into a hug.

Her arms wrapped tightly around his waist. “I will, Papa. You be careful.”

“Don’t worry about me, baby girl.” he said to her, keeping her held tightly to his chest. “Keep up your training, okay?”

Ashina nodded.

“Good. I won’t have to worry too much then. Until next time, baby girl.” Shanks kissed the top of her head and then let her go.

Ashina stepped back, and then lunged forward to hug her father once more before turning to board the Spadille.

“Ace, a word.”

Ace stopped in his tracks, nodding to Ashina to go ahead, and turned back to Shanks.

“I know you and my daughter are… together. Break her heart and you’re going to join the one-arm club, and if she gets hurt, or worse, I’m going to kill you, got it, Rookie?” Shanks asked Ace in a low voice giving him a deadly stare.

“Got it.”

“Good.” Shanks stepped back, clapped him on the shoulder and smiled at Ace. “Safe travels.”

“Yeah, uh, thanks. It was nice to meet you, Shanks.”

Ace turned on a dime and quickly boarded the ship.

Shanks waved goodbye to Ashina, who stood at the rail of the ship, waving back to him.  Ace gave the orders for the crew to set sail, and Shanks watched as he came to stand beside Ashina, an arm looping around her waist.

Benn chuckled from beside him. “You’re maturing as you age, Captain. I half expected you to not let her go with the Rookie.”

Shanks laughed, but then sobered, eyes watching the ship was the sails unfurled and she picked up speed, carrying his daughter away from him once more. “Eh. As much as I’d like to castrate the boy for being with my daughter, I can’t hold her back. Tsuna would never forgive me for not letting our girl chase her dreams and be free.”

[in-maidjan]

a reunion like none other

A moment of tense silence flooded the room and Vanya rubbed her palm against his spine in a small circle. “You okay?”

One more breath, pulled low into his stomach as he squared his shoulders. He always looked taller than her when he did that, even though there were only a few centimetres between them, give or take.

“I will be, yeah,” he replied.

Another quiet moment settled between them. Of all the ways Vanya had imagined meeting Dante again, over a dead body really hadn’t been on that list.

Omega.

Vanya had seen her fair share of thieves and bandits at dig sites, hoping to scavenge valuable tech buried on remote planets and do away with the archaeologists on site. Omega though, it was its own beast. A haven for thieves, murderers, and then some.

And that ‘some’ just happened to be her brother.

“Are you sure about this, Ryder?” a filtered voice questioned behind her, and Vanya turned her head just slightly as her Quarian captain, and more than enthusiastic contact, stepped onto the street beside her. Kaz’Kaer nar Sulhala, a fiercely loyal friend, if not a little too comfortable with some shadier work. Hunting for Prothean technology as part of a cross-species imitative was good work, but not always safe, and it paid to have an edge.

When he’d heard that Vanya was planning a jump into the Terminus Systems during one of their precious moments of shore leave, well, suffice to say he hadn’t been but two steps behind and ready to get to work.

The corner of Vanya’s lips quirked into a smirk. “Relax Kaz, no one is going to steal your ship.”

“How do you know?” Kaz’Kaer replied, and Vanya could see the faintest glimpse of a smile beneath the red sheen of his visor. “It’s a nice ship. And you’re welcome, by the way.”

“Yes, yes, thank you,” she said, waving a hand idly at her side as she began to make her way across the station. Kaz’Kaer followed at her heels, the two walking in tandem to keep from bumping into one of the many unsavory looking folks out in the early hours of the morning. Even at three in the morning, or whatever passed for morning on an asteroid, Omega was still alive. Low bass lines thrummed through the air from the nearby club, Afterlife, and there was no shortage of tight alleyways for bad business deals and not-so-secret trysts to happen in.

“Say hi to that good-for-nothing for me,” Kaz’Kaer said as he began to peel away from her side, to the markets. “I’ve got business to take care of.”

Vanya rolled her eyes so far back she could have seen her spine, but the smirk hadn’t left her face. “If you get shoved into another airlock, don’t come crying to me,” she replied.

“That was uncalled for.”

“Kaz.”

“…Fine.”

Kaz’Kaer liked to get an edge where he could; weapons, tech, information – you name it, he could get it and in spades too. He was an invaluable asset to their team, and she trusted him to keep out of trouble enough to find what he needed. That didn’t mean she’d let him forget about a certain incident involving a data-disk, Turian whiskey, and a Krogan with her pet varan.

He’d been lucky that headbutting an airlock console was not the optimal way to space someone.

Still, his company was solely missed she entered one of Omega’s many slums. Her brother, Dante, had given her a nav-point and an address for good measure, but it was still difficult to navigate the narrow side-streets and half a dozen elevators that separated Omega’s station levels. Most of the apartment complexes were sealed off – all steel windows, shuttered windows, and gated entrances, some with a few guards out front for the ‘higher end’ residents.

The route logged by her omni-tool took her through several backstreets. Her silhouette shimmered against the few glass windows she passed by, black curls bouncing with each step and brown skin kissed by colourful neon lights. It wasn’t long before she reached an apartment complex that was sealed off from the outside.

A moment passed as she stood outside the building, fingers hovering over her omni-tool and Dante’s contact signal. It had been a few years since she’d seen him. They hadn’t left on bad terms, not exactly, but there was a fear that lingered in the back of her mind.

How much had he changed?

When she swallowed the lump in her throat and swiped across her omni-tool to start a new call, she got her answer.

One chime, two chimes, three…

“Figures…” Vanya breathed the word out in a heavy sigh, a low grumble rolling in the back of her throat as she turned her head to look about her shoulder. Not too many people around, and none of them paying too much attention to her.

Good enough.

She turned her back to the entrance and dragged her hand over the wall, activating a panel for manual access. Technology was her forte – it was what got her a place on the Prothean Recovery Team – and she wasn’t that much of a stranger to hacking into a derelict building or two. Active security systems were a little trickier, but not much.

After a little digging through the data system to retrieve the saved access codes, it was done and dusted, and the entrance opened to her with a hiss.

The main lobby was practically deserted. It was a pretty simple room, barely a few metres across with dim blue strobe lights flicking overhead, casting black shadows under Vanya’s feet. A discordant sound filled the small space, an electronic voice glitching between words that she couldn’t quiet make out. And in the middle of the room there, was a glass partition from ceiling to floor that she guessed was another layer of security.

Or rather, it would have been, had it not been shot out with thousands of shards scattered across the ground.

The glass that remained in the sealed frame shimmered with a bright red glow that flickered and sizzled at the sharp edges where it had been shattered, the electrical current running through the material sparking the air at random.

A shiver crawled up her spine and lifted the hairs on the back of her neck, and Vanya’s gaze drifted to the elevator doors just opposite to where she stood.

She could leave, then and there. Whatever was going on was nothing she wanted to be apart of. She wasn’t even supposed to be on Omega in the first place, let alone entertaining thoughts of reuniting with the dishonourable discharge that was her brother.

But then again, he was her brother.

With a sharp breath, Vanya stepped carefully over the broken frame. Glass cracked and crinkled under her boots as she crossed the short distance to the elevator and lifted her arm to the interface, syncing it with her omni-tool the same way she had with the entrance panel. The codes were the same – why was she surprised – and the doors hissed open and closed behind her as she entered.

She took a moment in the elevator to start a trace on the signal that Dante had contacted her from. It took only a few moments, the benefit of being on the same network and within the same building no doubt, and her omni-too provided a helpful little ping and a display to show her how far she was from it.

Vanya prompted the elevator to rise to the sixth floor, and as it rose, she lifted the back of her coat to pull a pistol from under the waistband of her pants.

It had been purely a precaution, one that Kaz’Kaer had insisted on after learning it would be her first time on Omega. She was no stranger to a firefight – Prothean relic hunting was her passion, sure, but she couldn’t do that all year around. Peacekeeping ops were what really made her the breadwinner at the end of the day.

The weight was heavy in her hand, but reliable. She had a few clips strapped into latches on the back of her belt, hidden just as well as the pistol had been by her coat, and with careful hands she adjusted the safety and checked the sights.

The elevator slowed to a stop at the sixth floor and as soon as the doors opened, Vanya was met with the sound of muffled arguing from down the hall. A loud voice, guttural and low trill muffled by the walls, filled the hallway and Vanya adjusted the grip on her pistol as she walked forward. Her gaze darted to and from her omni-tool, checking how far she was from the nav-point that had been set. Sure enough, it would lead her to the second last door in the hallway, the one already partially open with a damaged frame from being kicked in, and with that antsy voice streaming out from.

“Nothing’s ever simple, is it?” she grumbled to no one as she made her approach.

She peered through the crack first, making sure there wasn’t any obstacle in the way that would alert whoever was inside that she was there. Inside, all she could see was a faint light from around a corner that bounced off the walls of the hallway, and then she heard that low rumbling voice again.

“Look, let’s not play games here. I know you don’t deal with any of the local gangs, so just unlock the box.”

“And I keep telling you, I don’t have the code, so you’re wasting your time.”

“What kind of idiot smuggler doesn’t have the codes to his own merchandise?”

“The kind who gets paid not to take the merchandise in the first place?”

At least the sarcastic tone hadn’t changed.

As Vanya stepped from the hallway into the small living room, it didn’t take her long to get a grasp of the situation.

Dante sat crouched on his knees, tattooed arms held weakly in the air by his head as a Turian stood in front of him, levelling a pistol neatly between a pair of furrowed thick grows. Between them was an open hole in the floor, a hidden compartment that was now open, and neatly housed a long dark grey case that had no visible seam.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Vanya said aloud, raising the pistol in her hands as both their heads snapped up and around to look at her in alarm, “but I’m going to have to ask you to drop that.”

“Who the fuck are you?” The Turian spat the question as he narrowed his at her, his arm straightening as he kept the pistol trained on Dante’s forehead.

Vanya narrowed her gaze into a glare. “Who the fuck are you?”

“I asked you first.”

“I don’t give a shit.”

“Hey, hey, let’s all take a deep–”

“–Shut up.” Vanya and the Turian snapped in unison, their voices drowning out Dante’s plea for decorum while there was still a pistol pressed into his forehead.

A moment of tense silence passed before the Turian looked hesitantly between Dante and Vanya. Before, he probably felt well in control of the situation, but now the odds had changed a little.

“Look, we can all walk away from this,” he said, voice trilling on each word as he looked cautiously between Dante and Vanya. “I just want the case. No one needs to get hurt.”

“You shot me,” Dante protested.

“At you. I shot at you. There’s a difference,” the Turian replied. Then, he turned his gaze to Vanya. “So, deal? You lower that, I take the case, we all walk away?”

Vanya relaxed her arms, letting the gun fall to her side as she sent one pitiful look to Dante.

“He shot you?” she asked, one plucked brow arching up towards her hairline.

“At him,” the Turian corrected.

Her gaze didn’t leave Dante’s face. Only a few minutes split them apart in age, a technicality she never let him forget, but he was still her brother. And there he was, blue eyes trying vainly to mask the fear he must he feeling with the cold metal of a gun against his forehead.

Vanya hummed low in her throat and turned her gaze back to the Turian.

Without a word, she twisted her wrist and shifted the angle of the gun barrel, and a slight squeeze of the trigger was followed by an ear-shattering bang as she fired a single round.

The Turian’s head snapped back with the impact, the body sagging instantly as legs buckled. A breathless moment passed as Dante remembered how to breathe, one gasp parting his lips turned into two and then three as he looked between the body laying in his living room floor to his sister with the smoking gun in her hand, as it were.

“Come on, get up,” Vanya said as she tucked the pistol away and extended her hand out to Dante.

He latched onto her hand with both of his, his hands shaking as much as his knees as she pulled him onto wobbling legs. He didn’t waste time in wrapping his arms around her neck, dragging her into as tight a hug as he possibly could.

“I didn’t think you would actually come,” he breathed out when he felt her arms circle under his to return his embrace. “I mean, not that I thought this–”

The words died in his throat as he pulled out of her arms a little, just enough to twist his head and look at the listless body taking up space in his living room like a morbid paperweight.

Vanya watched him suck in a harsh breath before trying to stifle whatever treasonous words where about to spill from his lips.

“You knew him?”

“Not well enough, apparently.”

A moment of tense silence flooded the room and Vanya rubbed her palm against his spine in a small circle. “You okay?”

One more breath, pulled low into his stomach as he squared his shoulders. He always looked taller than her when he did that, even though there were only a few centimetres between them, give or take.

“I will be, yeah,” he replied.

Another quiet moment settled between them. Of all the ways Vanya had imagined meeting Dante again, over a dead body really hadn’t been on that list.

“So, uh…what do we do about this?” Vanya asked with a non-committal wave of her hand.

Dante lifted a hand and pinched the space between his brow. “I’ll take care of it,” he said, swiping his head across his eye and moving down slowly to rub down his mouth and chin. “I know a guy.”

“You know a guy?” Vanya repeated the words incredulously. “Jeez, Dante.”

“What?” he asked, brows arching high. “You don’t get to complain, you’re the one who shot him.”

“To save your dumbass!”

“And– and I’m grateful,” Dante bit back a snarky reply as he sighed. “If you hadn’t been here…well, I doubt I would be here…”

Vanya let out a lungful of air and looked back to the body on the floor. It certainly hadn’t been the first person she’d killed – and she doubted that it’d be the last.

“Alright, let’s do this.” ________________________________________________________________

One sordid call that was uncomfortably familiar and a few hours later, Vanya and Dante were settled into the small crew deck that was Kaz’Kaer’s personal ship trying to play catch up on the last few years of each other’s lives. It was a small cruiser, sleek in design but retrofitted with a dozen systems that shouldn’t belong in a commercial spacecraft. A few back-channel deals on the Citadel allowed him the clearance to fly it between relays, though it would still take the better half of a cycle and then some to get back to Citadel space.

Kaz’Kaer had given them plenty of cheek once they heard about what had happened when they met – mostly a whole lot of bad knock-knock jokes, but that didn’t really surprise Vanya. Still, she was grateful he’d cut his business short to get them back on their way.

Omega might not have any official police, but she didn’t exactly want to be around in case someone had questions.

“Is this really what you do for a living?” Vanya asked him.

Dante laughed through his nose as he lifted a hand to rub the back of his neck, tattooed with blank ink and a dozen swirling patterns that seemed to flicker with a neon glow when a shadow passed over them.

“Not exactly. I do a little smuggling work, sure, but nothing worth a shoot-out over,” he explained.

“So, what do you do?” she asked.

“Well,” Dante rolled his shoulders back, shifting in his seat under her gaze. “Security, muscle work, that kind of thing. And more, if the pay is good and the source is trustworthy.”

“More?”

“Don’t ask what you don’t want answers to, sis.”

Vanya pursued her lips and leaned back in her chair, a soft sigh parting her lips after a long moment.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I think it’s time for a career change,” she said.

“What makes you say that?” There was an uneasiness to his tone. Not quite defiant, not quite curious.

“Because you’re my brother and I don’t want you to die in some shitty apartment and never know about it?”

Her words shocked him into silence, and he lowered his head almost shamefully and clasped his hands together on the table.

“Well, when you put it that way…” he said awkwardly, a hollow laugh trailing what he said.

Vanya leaned forward in her seat, moving the cold cups of coffee to the side so that she could reach out to pry one of Dante’s clasped hands away and into her own.

“I’ll help you figure something out,” she said, squeezing his hand gently. “Okay?”

A strained smile pulled at his lips and he lowered his head to hide the tears that pricked at his eyes. Without a word, Vanya lifted up out of her chair to sit on the edge of the table beside his body. She leaned over him, resting against his back and pressing a soft kiss into the curls of his hair as his body shook with one stifled sob after another while that tiny ship sailed between distant stars.