#something that i feel makes a lot more sense than tail thieves or not opening a fake grimoire

[666writingcafe]

Top Secret!!!!!

A Group Chat Involving Everyone but MC and Luke

Solomon: It's nearly time for me to give MC their preliminary exam. How many stars is MC up to?

Mammon: you serious, bro????

Mammon: you haven't kept track of mc's stars????

Mammon: old man alert

Satan: Four.

Solomon: Thank you, Satan. What other three virtues have been rewarded?

Diavolo: Gratitude from me.

Simeon: Patience from me and generosity from Luke.

Solomon: So, chastity, diligence, and humility remain. I was thinking of having us play Tail Thieves.

Asmo: I love you, Solomon, but no.

Solomon: What's wrong with Tail Thieves?

Asmo: One, it's a childish game.

Lucifer: ^

Asmo: Two, do you not remember how MC behaved the last time you tested them? They were BORED OUT OF THEIR MIND, and it impacted their performance as a result.

Beel: That's true.

Asmo: Any twists you come up with are going to be too predictable.

Solomon: *glaring crow sticker*

Solomon: I'm SURE you have a better idea.

Asmo: I do, actually.

Asmo: It involves testing their chastity.

Solomon: Go on...

Asmo: We'll seduce them.

Mammon: that's a stupid idea!!!!

Levi: youre just saying that because youre jealous

Belphie: *laughing emoji*

Beel: *gif of someone doing a spit-take*

Asmo: I'm being serious.

Asmo: During their last stay in the Devildom, I managed to charm them, which gained me access to their deepest desires.

Asmo: They have fantasies involving all of us. Tempting them with those will be the ultimate test of their chastity. If they're able to resist, then they earn the star.

Lucifer: That's actually a well thought-out idea.

Barbatos: ^

Diavolo: ^^

Solomon: *glaring crow sticker*

Solomon: Fine.

Solomon: Who's participating?

Levi: mammon and i are out

Mammon: speak for yourself!!!! the fuck???

Levi: if this is meant to really test mc then everyone has to commit to the bit and you and i both know that youd tap out the minute mc looks at you sideways

Mammon: *glaring crow sticker*

Levi: while ive gained some confidence i still wouldnt be able to maintain my composure long enough to complete something like this

Asmo: I will provide the necessary information, but I myself will not be seducing MC, as much as it pains me to say.

Satan: Of course it would pain you to say that.

Asmo: *eye roll emoji*

Solomon: Do you want to judge with me?

Asmo: I mean, I kinda figured we would, so...

Barbatos: My participation will depend on what I'm meant to reenact.

Asmo: Are you afraid it would conflict with your duties?

Barbatos: Yes.

Diavolo: Well, if you're worried about me stopping you, don't. It wouldn't be fair of me to expect you to sit this out if I'm planning on participating.

Mammon: WHAT??????

Levi: bro

Levi: he literally jumped out a castle window to be with mc

Levi: he's THIRSTY

Belphie: Unfortunately.

Asmo: Not to be the bossy brother, but Lucifer, you aren't allowed to back out.

Lucifer: Wasn't planning on it. I know where I stand in MC's mind.

Satan: You know, I think I might chill with Mammon and Levi. I thought about joining in the fun, but I don't think I have it in me to see things through.

Satan: And before anyone chimes in, no, it's not because Lucifer confirmed his participation.

Belphie: We know. If it was, you'd be trying to one-up him.

Satan: Thank you, Belphie. I TOTALLY wanted that out there. *eye roll emoji*

Beel: I'm in.

Belphie: Quick question: would it be fair of me to participate?

Asmo: Actually, you'd be PERFECT for this. You can argue that you know MC more intimately than ANY of us. You'd know what buttons to push to make them really sweat.

Belphie: Okay, cool. I'll do it, then.

Simeon: Me too.

Levi: lol what

Mammon: ayo, do you even KNOW how to seduce someone, simeon?

Simeon: How do you think I'm able to write some of the scenes in TSL?

Levi: well okay then

Solomon: So, to confirm: Lucifer, Beel, Belphie, Diavolo, and Simeon are definite participants, Barbatos is a maybe, and Mammon, Levi, and Satan are sitting this out?

Nine people liked Solomon's message.

Mammon: the three of us can keep an eye on luke. we can either help him run the cafe or take him out someplace fun.

Levi: you know you seem awfully chummy towards luke lately

Mammon: we bonded during our fairy hunt.

Asmo: Then that settles it. Solomon and I will meet with the volunteers for further discussion.

[the-star-and-the-smols]

Sean McCool

Chapter 1: A Big Day For The Irish

Word count: like 3600

Rating: Teen

Warnings: fearplay, injury

Arthur is startled awake by the most unusual of sounds in the night. Thunderous booms, the deafening sound of shuffling against grass and dirt, the horses crying. His first thought is a strong storm, but opening his eyes to a starry morning sky peppered with small white clouds dismisses this possibility. As he forces himself awake, a number of awful scenarios run through his mind: bounty hunters, Pinkertons, O'Driscolls, common thieves. He draws his pistol as he blinks, scanning through the blur of his sleep.

"Who goes there?"

Not a word or sound save from the panic of the horses hitched on a nearby tree. However, something else immediately captures his interest. Something very large, taller than he is, and spanning an impressive distance, like a long wall. Different colors, too, as it goes along. Browns, a deep blue, a light patterned blue, some soft reds and greens, softly glowing in the moonlight.

"Arthur?"

From behind him, Hosea rises to his feet and comes to stand beside him.

"Hosea.... Do you know what the hell I'm lookin' at here? I can't make heads or tails o’ this thing right now."

"Might've been what spooked the horses.... I don't know. Give me a minute, will you?"

Hosea makes his way toward the wall, studying it with an intense curiosity. "Looks... strangely familiar, though I can't put my finger on why."

"All I see is a wall. ‘Course, that don't make much sense. Got an interestin’ shape to it, that's for sure."

Hosea backs up cautiously as the wall seems to move upward and downward with a sound that can only be described as a low, deep sigh.

"I don't think this is a wall, son," he croaks deeply, his gaze shifting back and forth between different ends of the so-called wall.

"Then what the hell do you think it is?"

"I-I think it's a giant!" Hosea wheezes.

"A giant?! Hosea, you must'a drank more than you thought you did. Giants ain't real, now I know you of all people got sense enough to know that," he barks at the older man with a confused look.

"Shh, not so loud," he whispers, "You'll wake it. And-and it don't make a lick of sense to me either, but-but look." He points shakily to a light-colored, oddly shaped section of the wall that seems to jut out from a strange tunnel of cloth. "That's a hand."

Arthur's brow furrows curiously as he takes a few steps toward the appendage, holstering his gun but keeping his hand on it.

"Don't touch it, Arthur."

Arthur nods as he continues to inspect the thing, looking down at his hand then back up again at the towering object, curled up and still taller than himself. Up, down, up, down again. He stumbles back, his mouth becoming an entry point for any flying insect that dares to become breakfast.

"What. The. Hell?!"

"See, I told you. What else could it be?"

"I see yer point," Arthur surrenders, continuing to back away until he's behind Hosea. With the realization, the wall seems to morph into something a lot less wall-like and a lot more human-like. It rises and falls rhythmically with a low gust of air. Arthur watches as Hosea makes his way to the other end of the giant, the part with red and green.

"We need to wake Sean and get the hell outta here!!!!" Arthur scans the environment for any sign of his friend. "Hey, where is that little Irish weasel anyway? He was right-"

Arthur freezes in place, an icy chill running through his veins as his mind starts putting two and two together.

"There.... OH MY-"

"-I'm afraid we're looking at him," Hosea interjects, his voice wavering with emotion. "His head is up this way." He motions for Arthur to come closer.

Arthur doesn't believe it. He doesn't want to believe it; it all seems so absurd. He has to prove it for himself, as gut-wrenching as that may be, if only to convince himself he hasn't gone completely nuts, or had too much to drink, so he walks toward Hosea's position, his light step on the dirt feeling like a trudge through mud. He approaches the patch of soft orangey reds that starts to make a lot more sense, running the strands through his fingers like long, thin cables. He recognizes Sean's ear, what must easily be the height of his own body. Maybe even more.

"Goddamn..." He mutters in utter disbelief. Blue eyes widen, his chest tightening uncomfortably.

Just then, a deep, loud, Sean-like grumble is heard and felt in the ground. The curtain of hair begins to shift, moving toward the two at an alarming pace.

"We gotta MOVE!" Arthur bleats, turning tail toward the woods. Hosea follows him as quickly as he can, soon falling into a coughing fit and forced to stop in his tracks. Arthur sees this, but before he has the chance to run and assist him, his father figure is halfway pinned underneath Sean's massive cheek, his legs almost completely buried. The giant grumbles in his sleep as he settles on his side, completely unaware of the mess unfolding before him.

"Hosea!" Arthur runs to his aid. Sean's breath washes over his whole body in warm, damp gusts as his face is now turned toward the pair, yet it chills the surface of his skin. It's an eerie, disturbing feeling he tries his best to disregard; there are more pressing matters at the moment.

Shit, that’s still pretty hard to ignore.

"Well, at least he was considerate enough to spare my head and torso," Hosea croaks, trying to make light of the situation. He pulls at his legs with his hands to free them, but they only barely budge.

"You alright, Hosea?" Arthur kneels down next to him, searching his features for any trace of discomfort.

"Not too bad right now," he grunts in a pained voice, "but I need to get the pressure off these legs, quick. Give me a hand here."

"Mhm." Arthur pulls at one of Hosea's thighs with the weight of his arms and upper body. It budges a little, but still remains wedged under Sean's cheek.

"Shoot. No luck," Hosea mutters, eyes welling with tears.

"Lemme try somethin' else here." Arthur gets down in a seated position next to Hosea, pressing his boots against the cheek. He tugs the skin and fat of Sean's cheek upward with his boots, the friction with his stubble emitting a sound akin to a shave, then once again using the force of his upper body strength to pry Hosea's leg free. This time, the limb easily slides outward, giving Hosea a bit of relief.

"Great, now the other one."

Arthur moves to Hosea's other side, doing the same for his right leg. The prodding of Sean's cheek makes his nose and mouth twitch, drawing the pair's attention to it briefly before focusing back on the task at hand. "Alright, this one's in there pretty deep, so, try and pull with me, okay?"

Hosea nods as the two pull, heaving and grunting before finally freeing his foot of their friend's face, as well as his boot.

"You okay?" Arthur asks, inspecting the leg and foot for any sign of injury.

"Somewhat." He flexes the limb, wincing and groaning with pain. "I think it got pretty banged up. Still, I don't think it's broken."

"Sorry to hear. You don't look so good. Hopefully it ain't broken, at least. " Arthur sighs, taking in the sight of his gang brother's massive head. He chuckles at the sight, then turns back to the older man. "Good lord, he's enormous... Can't even imagine what kinda shit he'd get into when he wakes up. His ego was already big enough before." The thought gives Arthur a headache.

Hosea's eyes are still set on the giant's features in front of them, concerned. "Looks like we're about to find out."

Sean's eyelids peel open only very slightly, and he rubs his eyes with massive fingers. He grumbles, vibrating the ground underneath him in a pained voice.

"Oh, me head... Feels like… egh, shite…"

Sean's voice is startlingly loud and deep, and the two back away to give him some space, with Hosea forced to shuffle back on his rear due to his injured leg.

"Ugh..."

Sean sits up, casting the two in shadow. His hat remains on the ground, his eyes opening further.

"Where the hell am I?"

He scans the environment, the rays of the morning sun creeping over the trees and blinding him. Holding his hand in front of him, he turns his gaze downward to avoid the sun's glare, trying to make sense of the two little blobs he notices on the ground. He blinks.

"What's this now?"

He picks one of them up, Arthur, who is unpleasantly surprised by the fingers that effortlessly wrap around him almost painfully, pinning his arms to his sides and restricting his mobility. As he's whisked dozens of feet in the air in seconds, his stomach seems to want to linger on the ground for a few moments, and Sean certainly doesn't give it the opportunity to catch up. His surroundings are a blur until the movement slows and halts at his friend's face. He knows it's Sean, he's known him for years. The young redhead's always been like an annoying little brother to him, but that closeness and friendship was left at the ground below. As he’s enveloped in the massive hand of a familiar stranger, a frigid heat crawls over his skin, up his spine. He can hear nothing but the throb of his own heartbeat in his ears, his head thick.

Little brother? Not so little now.

Now, Arthur is constricted by an enormous hand, and his entire field of vision is filled with nothing but Sean. Green irises like serving plates pierce through Arthur's invisible armor, making him feel unusually vulnerable under his gaze. Here he was, at the complete mercy of a powerful fool. If it had been a total stranger, he manages to think, it would be less scary right now. He knows this behemoth, impulsive and reckless, and it leaves Arthur petrified, hardly able to breathe.

The brow furrows, eyes and pupils expanding, and as he speaks, Arthur can feel a gentle buzz through his fingers.

"..Arthur?!?"

Sean’s expression becomes warmer as he recognizes his friend, so teeny in his hand. Creases form around his eyes, a sign that he's smiling; there's just so much of Sean to take in that Arthur is really only able to focus on those massive jade irises, burning so intensely with curiosity it becomes impossible to tear his gaze away, no matter how desperately he wants to.

And Arthur knows better than most, there's a lot you can tell about what a feller is thinking through eyes and eyes alone. The sense of wonder and amusement in the younger man's gaze is palpable, and although familiar, is so much bigger and brighter than he’s ever witnessed. He can feel Sean's pulse through his fingers, and the grip finally loosens enough to not be uncomfortable, allowing for Arthur to move his arms finally. Not that that's much help, since he really only has Sean's thumb to grab onto.

"Wh- what the fuck? How-how'd ya get so- uh... little?!"

He stammers in disbelief.

Sean's breath rustles Arthur's hair as he speaks, the scent of whiskey and cigarettes. His rough voice is painfully loud and detailed in his ear, and slightly deeper than he's used to. Arthur can't help but chuckle awkwardly at the unusual situation; it's really the only response he can muster other than the scream lingering in his throat.

"I-I ain't little, Sean. Just.. take a look around ya!"

Arthur is momentarily relieved of the intensity of his gaze as Sean looks around, noticing the ends of his hair brushing against his blazer like an enormous broom. It's easier for Arthur to take everything in when he's not being stared down by a pair of humongous eyes. A breath of fresh air.

The Irishman looks upon the landscape surrounding him, noticing how he easily dwarfs the trees, even from his seated position.

"Jeeeeesus..."

He lets out a low, piercing whistle, then turns back to Arthur, a smug grin stretching out further than Arthur is tall.

"Y'know, Arthur Morgan, you aren't nearly as ugly from this point of view. Dare I say it, yer almost adorable."

"Oh, please-" Arthur can feel the wall of fingers constricting his limbs once more, and Sean becomes giddier than ever as he seems to get further away, moving Arthur back a bit to inspect him with better focus. The sensation is dizzying.

"I mean it! Yer like a tiny little doll in my hand. A grumpy one at that~!!! It's endearing! Y'know, I've always liked the idea of bein' bigger and stronger, but this is somethin' else! A right fantasy, this is!!! A dream!!! Am I dreamin'?!"

"SEAN!" A voice barks from below them.

Sean’s gaze turns downward toward Hosea, who sits with his legs stretched out on the grass.

"Put him down, son! Right now! You're hurting him!" Hosea commands.

He looks back at Arthur, who seems quite a bit more purple than usual at the moment. The younger man's features immediately soften with concern, and he loosens his grip on the outlaw as he lowers him to the ground, much more slowly than his startling ascent moments ago.

"O-of course, Mr. Matthews!"

A disoriented Arthur slides off of Sean's fingers and onto the ground, landing in a heap with a soft "oof."

"Sorry, English. Y'okay?"

Arthur lets out a muffled "yep" from his crumpled position before righting himself, sitting with his legs sprawled out like Hosea.

A small smile tugs at the corner of Sean's mouth from the affirmation. There is a moment of stunned silence between the three of them, the gangster-turned-giant running his fingers through the grass, his eyes glued to the two on the ground as he orients himself to this reality. His fingers suddenly brush up against a solid object, which he lifts up to eye level. A boot. Realizing Hosea's sock is exposed, he lowers the boot pinched between two fingers to Hosea, receiving a soft "thank you."

"No problem."

He yawns, rubbing his temple.

"Could surely use a cup of coffee right now, though. What a way to wake up."

"I don't think they make coffee cups that big," Arthur laughs. "I'm afraid you're outta luck."

"What the hell happened anyways?! Last thing I remember, I was celebratin', havin' a few drinks with the pair o' yous. Now this!"

"I don't know," Arthur replies. "Maybe it was that special shine you got all excited about. 'Course, moonshine can do a lot, but I ain't ever heard about it makin' men grow into giants.”

Hosea chimes in. "No, you got a point, Arthur. Don't make sense to me that it happened in the first place, strange as it is, but, as you said, so was that vendor."

Arthur groans. "I never shoulda bought that shit for him. Why couldn't I have just got him a new shirt, or a holster, or somethin' for Ennis-"

"-You serious, Morgan? My birthday, and you're giftin' a horse-"

"-or a muzzle, for that goddamn mouth of his!!"

"Well, as they say, never look a gift horse in the mouth! Hahahahaha!"

Sean retorts playfully.

"Shut up," Arthur growls. "This ain't no joke!"

"You just findin’ that out, Englishman?! This is bloody remarkable! Just look at me!"

He gestures to himself, his arm span the length of a baseball field, eyes wide beyond belief.

"I gotta test somethin' for meself here!"

The pair watch as Sean reaches for the trunk of a nearby cedar, the length of half his arm. He wraps a hand around it near the bottom, and twists it free almost effortlessly, shaking the dirt from the roots.

"HAHAHAHA! Look at this, boys! I'm the strongest man on Earth!"

He brags, his tone livelier than ever, booming and echoing in the mountains with a bassy tone. He lifts his arms above his head in a strongman pose, fist still clenched around the tree he so easily uprooted.

"Just wait 'til them girls see me! I'll be havin’ to fight ‘em off me-"

"Will you quit mouthin' for ten goddamn seconds and LISTEN?!" Arthur barks up at Sean, clenching his fists. When Sean lowers his arms, he continues. "We gotta get Hosea to a doctor."

Sean's smile fades.

"..Doctor? What for? You alright, Hosea?"

He leans in closer, inspecting the older man.

Hosea hums, pain apparent in his speech. "Not particularly. Leg got busted up pretty bad. But I'll make it."

"... How'd that happen?"

Arthur and Hosea exchange glances, unsure of how to respond.

"D-did I..?"

Sean points to his chest with tightening fingers.

Hosea purses his lips, sighing. "I'm afraid so, Sean."

The redhead shuffles back slightly, sending slight shockwaves through the earth below him.

"Shit, I-I-I'm sorry!"

"Accidents happen, Sean," Hosea assures him. "It's okay. It could have happened with anyone."

"Could it, really?" Arthur remarks skeptically.

Hosea pulls out a mortar and pestle from his bag, beginning to grind some herbs. "Let's just get ready. We've got a long journey ahead of us. Would you mind brewing us some coffee, Arthur?"

"Sure." Arthur takes the pot and grounds from his bag.

"Anything I can help with?"

Sean asks, his eyes darting between the two as he sets the tree down near the forest with a crash.

"Now you mention it," Hosea responds, "the horses seem awful spooked. Maybe now's a good time to get 'em used to ya. Wouldn't want 'em,” he grunts, “runnin' away soon as they got untethered."

"Will do. Though I don't suppose I'll be ridin' Ennis back to camp,"

he chuckles half-heartedly, getting down on his belly, the tremors in the earth from his movements making the horses whinny and cry.

"Shh, it's okay, now, it's only me."

He reaches his hand out toward the horses, uncertain.

"I won't hurt ya..."

No luck. The horses buck, trying to break free.

“Woah, easy there!”

He pulls his hand back slowly to avoid startling them further.

"Y'know, Sean, I've been thinking," Hosea adds, "Somehow it seems whatever you were wearing when you slept grew with you overnight-"

"Thank God for that," Arthur mutters, getting a scoop of coffee grounds.

"-So, what did you have in your bag? Edible, I mean?"

Sean looks to his satchel, still draped over his shoulder from the night before. He shuffles through it.

"Tin o' crackers, peaches, a carrot-"

"Perfect! Feed that to the horses!" Hosea yells out excitedly.

Sean grins, finally catching on.

"Ohoho, they're gonna love this one!"

He pulls out a fresh carrot, the height of a two-story building.

"Damn," Arthur remarks, "Sure don't see that every day." The two smaller men share a chuckle.

"Hey beauties, ya like carrots? Well I've got a real whopper for ya!"

Sean experimentally holds the carrot out, wiggling it slightly to entice the horses, which still buck and neigh at Sean's movements, but less so.

"C'mon, horses. Sean's got a real treat for ya!"

The first horse to seem interested is Ennis, who nudges his snout in Sean's direction hungrily.

"That's it! That's my boy!"

Sean pinches a small piece off the end of the carrot with his finger, very slowly reaching out toward Ennis, the bit of carrot pinched between his fingers. Ennis whinnies, and Sean shushes him, speaking in an almost whisper.

"It's okay! You know me!"

Ennis seems calmer, eager to bite the carrot. Sean opens his fingers, the chunk of enormous vegetable sitting on the tip of his middle digit. The horse approaches him warily, finally taking a bite.

"Yes, that's it! Good boy! Tasty, innit? Hehehe."

Seeing Ennis enjoying the carrot piques the other horses' interests, and they begin to point their snouts toward him.

Arthur pours Hosea’s coffee, handing it to him and receiving a quiet ‘thanks.’ The two watch Sean with a mixture of awe and disbelief.

"Hosea, what in the hell are we gonna do about this?" Arthur whispers, trying to maintain enough volume to be heard over Sean’s re-taming of the horses.

"I don't rightly know myself. I’ve seen a lot in my day, but this sure as shit beats all!"

“Well the way I see it, it looks like we got a mighty big problem on our hands.”

“The biggest yet.” Hosea empties the ground herbs into his coffee cup, swirling it around. “We’ll find a way to get him back to normal. Sean's a good kid, got a lotta heart. He just needs some direction, and discipline.”

“I ain't so sure discipline is gonna cut it now, Hosea. He could overpower all of us, easy! Hell, he don’t listen to me half the time at normal size; I can only imagine he'll laugh in my face now if I so much as disagree with him on how we should go about things.”

Hosea lets out a light chuckle. “Let's… hope not.” He takes a sip of his coffee. “He may be young and foolish, but he cares about this gang. And if he cares, he’ll listen.”

“Maybe. I just hope you're right. I guess we’ll just… take it as it comes.” Arthur shrugs.

“That’s seemed to work for us so far.” Hosea smiles a little as he watches the horses, now all happily eating chunks of carrot out of Sean’s palm.

[astaroth1357]

Demigod MC Series: Hermes

Hey guys, still doing what I can to stay healthy (and entertained) in quarantine. Staying still, keeping calm, and trying not to exert myself too much because of the shortness of breath thing going on. My lungs just can't get enough air it seems… 😅 Anyway, I've gotten a lot of suggestions on this series and I'm excited to keep it going. Just going to be a tad slow until I'm feeling better. Thank you for the support, y'all!

Demigod MC Series: Intro, Aphrodite, Hermes

Lucifer

Oh no… it’s everyone’s worst nightmare… Another Mammon, but competent. Devil help us all…

Had he known who their father was, he'd have never assigned Mammon to watch over them. Hell, he would have made sure those two never even met. They became a new handful for him to manage from the day they first arrived…

When even more things started going missing around the House than normal, he knew he had made a grave mistake… They were clever, quick, and skilled. About the best WORST combination for a burglar to be…

Worse still, they were fast on their feet. He would pretty much have no way to nab them on foot and always had to resort to his wings or magic to have any hope of catching up to them… At least Mammon usually gets himself cornered!

But, paradoxically, he also came to notice that the mortal had an odd honesty streak to them... Like, they’d steal but they’d always admit to it, unlike Mammon who would try to deflect till he was blue in the face.

Were they proud of their work, maybe? Or just didn’t see the point in trying to get away with it...?

There would be several occasions where they’d take something, sell it with Mammon, and then steal the thing back later just to put it back where it belonged, seemingly never with Mammon’s permission to do so either… 

Is it better that they returned the stolen item or worse because their actions went from just robbery to a full-on scam? Either way, it gives him headaches trying to deal with it…

He pretty much gives up getting the mortal to stop after 6 months, they are legitimately that good, but makes them swear to always put back whatever they take at some point. It seems to work out and he lets more things slide, but please someone get them out of here soon… 

Mammon

Soulmatesoulmatesoulmatesoulmate, or maybe more accurately “Partner-in-Crime” but that means pretty much the same thing to him anyway. 🤷‍♀️

He’s never met a person better at thievery than they were. The day they met, they managed to pick his pockets without breaking a sweat (or a finger) and that was it. He was in love.

They could teleport! Actually teleport!! Suddenly, NOTHING was off limits to him any more! Lucifer’s rare records? Easy. Levi’s secret safe? Cakewalk. The Castle vault?? Child’s play!! It was like they could steal anything they put their mind to!!

He didn't even have to worry about them when they made getaways because they were fast too, the two actually have parkour races through the streets for the hell of it!

On top of all that, they were wicked creative. He’d come up with a money-making scheme then they’d offer him all sorts of little tricks to help get away with it...

HE’D have never realized that they could turn themselves into rats in order to frighten and sneak past Barbatos, but they thought of it the instant they heard of his fear of things. They're a mad genius!!

The only real downside was they seemed to like stealing for the sport of it instead of for the money… so they always steal back whatever they took.

That kind of defeats the purpose of all that work in the first place, right? Ah well, at least that's more money for him.

These two pretty much became a walking menace to Devildom society- Sorry, not sorry.

Leviathan

Not another Mammon!!! WHY?! What did he do to deserve this?!?

When he started noticing that EVEN MORE of his stuff was going missing than usual, he straight-up flipped! Like, had the mortal not been pretty tough in their own right they would have been Lotan-chow. End of discussion.

… And then they started using their powers for good? Kind of?

Like, first off they would always give back what they stole, which was a nice change from Mammon. Annoying, but at least he didn't have to go buy replacement games or anything…

And then they started stealing him limited edition merch or tickets and stuff because they… liked him?? He guessed???

Why else would they go to all the trouble of swiping one of the five ultra-rare Kitsune Ruri-chan figurines from its original collector? He would have had to pay Mammon half his tail for something like that but the MC just brought it to him one morning because they could!

Is… is this love? Has he grown to love that which he hates?! What is even happening anymore!?! Who is he?!? 😫

Eventually he has to reconcile his conflicted feelings by dubbing them the real life Peony Phantom Thief, Jane and even making them a cosplay. Yes, they have to wear it when they bring him things. No, it's not weird, shut up.

Satan

He wants to be irritated, no - furious, that they keep taking his stuff… But he’ll be damned if they aren’t making Lucifer’s life a living hell right now. 😏

He's honestly not even sure how they managed to swipe half of the priceless portraits in the Castle (a considerable feat since there's one for Every. Room.) but they pulled it off in under a week. Barbs didn't even notice the replicas…

If that's not mildly terrifying, he doesn't know what is. Who knows what things he could be missing at any given moment...?

At least the mortal had the good sense to return his things, unlike Mammon, which gets them off his shit list for the most part. 🤷‍♀️

It helps that they’re also impressively well-traveled. They claim to have been across every human continent and sailed every ocean. Though he was skeptical at first, just hearing their stories eventually convinced him.

What sort of person has sailed the Amazon River, hiked through Arctic tundra, seen every major capital city, and still had time to explore the sights of the French Riviera?

One that has magical teleportation powers apparently.

Frankly, he could listen to their stories of the human world all day and still ask for another. He's told them that they may as well just write a book of their own for him at some point, it'd be beneficial to their poor vocal chords.

Asmodeus

Ugh! Really? Another thief in the House?? Wasn’t one hard enough to deal with?!

Honestly, stolen beauty products aren't exactly something you can just sell or give back, so unfortunately a lot of Asmo's clothes/accessories get targeted and he is NOT happy about it...

Around the time his favorite scarf was stolen for the third time, he was about to gut the mortal himself, but they struck a deal with him. They could nab his clothes SO LONG as they returned them with an extra little "gift."

Jewelry, perfume, creams, nail polish, etc. Asmo kept a running list and pretty much treated his thieving friend like a less moral version of Akuzon. Whatever he asked for, no matter how rare or expensive, they always got their hands on so who was he to complain?

He once decided to test them by asking for the Hope Diamond - which they got for him - but he made them return it after a week after the curse on it made him ruin a particularly intricate manicure so…

Like Satan, he's also pretty impressed with all the places they've seen. He's pretty traveled in the human world himself so they exchange travel stories all the time!

He may bother them to him out traveling from time to time. There are so many gorgeous and romantic places to visit in the human world after all, it's not like anybody could stop them from just… popping in to have a look. Right? 😏

Beelzebub

They learned very quickly that his food is absolutely off limits and after that, they were good.

Seriously. Beel caught them once trying to swipe a piece of pizza from his dinner and he nearly ripped their arm off for it…

But on the flipside, he also knows that he can go to them if he REALLY needs a snack and is short on cash. 

It's pretty comical watching the fleet-foot mortal running from angry demon vendors with a basket of stolen apples for their buddy… But he appreciates their enthusiasm! 🙂

Beel actually likes to hear about their travels too, but mostly what they've eaten. They can keep him enraptured for hours by describing all the food they've come across in the human world…

Watch out for the drool, though.

Since they can teleport, they'll sometimes pop up with a human world treat for him and the man internally swears his undying love for them every time...

Outwardly, though, he just smiles. 'Cause he's a sweetie.

Belphegor

They… they opened the attic door on, like, the first day they met… They didn’t even make it look that hard, they had some kind of knack for breaking and entering…

Seriously, imagine the look on his face when they just walk into the attic to say hello… He had this whole, “Lure and Trick the Human” plan all thought out then they pulled out a magic lockpick or something and BOOM! Freedom!

He laughed, perhaps a little closer to the edge of sanity than he was intending, and he tried to attack them but they were so damn fast he couldn't land a single hit!

Damn was it embarrassing when the others came in…

MC: "LUCIFER! LUCIFER!! There's a monster in your attic!!!"

Lucifer: "That's not a monster that's my brother!!"

MC: *stops midway through kneeing Belphie in the stomach* …. Ooooooooh!

MC: Whoops. 

It was a… rocky start.

After they settled their differences quelled Belphie's bloodlust he found that they kind of grew on him rather quickly… Something about that mischievous energy and how much they gave his brothers (minus Beel) grief with it.

He absolutely helps them with their plans if it will annoy Lucifer in any way. Occasionally, they'll even take Belphie out on raids instead of Mammon.

Turns out he's surprisingly good at distractions because all he has to do is pretend to fall then take a nap. People around him will legitimately believe that he needs medical attention so the MC can sneak through crowds undetected...

Of course, Mammon gets PISSED when they do this, though. How dare his baby brother try to steal away his perfect partner!! Get your own damn mortal, Belphie!!! 🤬

[catzula]

dreams that smell of caramel

Hello, hello. I know I disappeared for a hot minute, i blame depression for everything. i think I’ll be more active from now on, and thank you for reading!

btw, I did take a break form my 400 followers event cuz I burned out really really bad sorry about it

pairing: Bakugou x gn!reader

genre: fluff

warnings: cursing, 3.6k

synopsis: Really, who falls asleep in a subway? Apparently, you do, and Bakugou can’t help but feel protective over it. It’s because he’s training to be a hero, right? It’s not like he likes you, right? Right?!

Bakugou hated the subway. 

There was almost nothing there to like. It was dirty, caused Bakugou to feel like he couldn't breathe, and frankly, ever since the day he read that the air in a subway was %30 pieces of human skin, he didn't want to breathe, either.

The traumatic effect that piece of information had on him was something he never got over. But it wasn't only how dirty the air was, either. It was dusty and dry, and it always caused his eye contacts to dry on his eyes, causing him to see blurry for a while, and there had been many incidents where Bakugou had furiously rubbed his eyes, and made himself blind for a good few minutes.

People there always seemed to be almost as rude and angry as him, most of them thinking they had the right to sit wherever and whenever, and people invading his personal space wasn't something unusual, either. And the smell, oh god, the smell. Some people obviously hadn't discovered what a fucking soap or deodorant was since he could sometimes feel the smell in his brain. 

All this, even though he hadn't even seen the real torture. With the mean, scary look on his face and the way he stood that screamed, stay away from me if you're smart enough, people usually tried to do just that, so Bakugou didn't know what his space being invaded actually could be, or how bad the smell could get.

It was a warm day when he had met you. When he saw you barging in the last second, right before the doors closed behind you, he scoffed, slightly amused. You looked like you were running for your dear life, chest heaving, a thin layer of sweat forming on your temples, clothes disheveled, and hair messy, but you had a proud smile on your lips despite all that.

Crimson eyes followed you as you happily sighed when you noticed the seat across Bakugou was free, dropping yourself on the hard surface. You looked around, realizing there was almost no one around the 10-meter radius of you, the seats were vacant, but people were crowding a bit further down the subway. Your brows furrowed with confusion, and only then did you notice the ash-blonde across you, his gaze piercing through you, the mean scowl on his lips reminding you of a wolf. 

The moment your eyes met, Bakugou had expected you to jump to your feet and run away since he had become well-known after the sports festival and many incidents that had forced him to the tv. And even if someone didn't recognize him, the slightest glare from him was enough to make people run with their tails between their legs, but not this time, apparently, since you dared to cock your head to the side and smile at him.

Smile at him! It was almost an insult! When was the last time anyone actually did that? Especially a stranger? Or maybe you weren't a stranger, was that it? Looking at it now, you did have a familiar face, and it felt like he had seen you quite a few times before. But the more he tried to remember, the more the memory of you went deeper into his brain, causing him to grit his teeth subconsciously and look at you even more intensely. Bakugou wasn't aware he was staring at you like he was trying to see your soul, red gaze never faltering a second away from you.

It was when you tilted your brows slightly upwards, your pretty smile turning into an awkward one, he realized he was staring for the past station. Bakugou's brows snapped together, annoyed at himself, but he was also aware of how his face felt warmer than usual. He gritted his teeth with an angry grunt, looking away from you and fixing his eyes on the stupid advertisement that was right across from him, and he could swear he heard a muffled laugh coming from your way. Bakugou was surprised at how much he wanted to look at you, but his pride wouldn't let him do so, and so he kept staring at the poorly made advertisement brochure. 

Bakugou was a proud, smug man, and he always prided himself on the amount of control he had over himself. But that day, he had let himself down. What was this stupid force that kept making him flick his eyes your way almost every five minutes? It felt like his body was possessed, and it was impossible to suppress his curiosity and not look at you. Bakugou had looked around if there was anyone else looking at you and to try and see if this was a quirk of some sort since it made no sense. 

He grunted in annoyance when he couldn't help himself once again and glance at you, but it wasn't a curt look this time. His eyes narrowed and widened when he took a glimpse of you, of your relaxed body, head falling back and eyes closed. 

"What the hell?" He muttered to himself, leaning forward slightly to try and understand just what the fuck you were- were you sleeping? The realization of how you were, in fact, fucking sleeping had hit him hard, brows shooting upwards, his eyes were wide with confusion and a wave of slight anger. 

Were you dumb? Did you have no rational part in your brain? General knowledge of some sorts? Who in their right mind slept in a fucking subway? Where criminals swarmed, thieves lurking in the corners, waiting for people to slip for a second so they could steal a watch, phone, or a wallet easily, and you were sleeping? 

Bakugou had no idea why he was so fired up about someone he had seen only half an hour ago. He couldn't help but jump in his place, ready to fight, hand itching for a punch whenever someone as much as walked before you, growling and shooting a dirty, scary look when he caught anyone looking your way more than half a second, even the baby that stood in the corner.

He was a hero, after all, right? It was only normal he wanted to protect you, right? Right? God fucking damn it, when were you even going to wake up? He had no idea how you were so relaxed to be able to sleep in a subway, but it caused him more stress than he had felt the past ten years. 

When Bakugou noticed you finally shifting in your place and opening your eyes the second the next station's name was announced, he took a breath of relief. You started to gather your stuff as if you hadn't just woken up from a deep ass slumber, yawning and checking your phone for the time. Bakugou was watching you dazed, shocked at how someone could even do that. If pulling his interest and gaze towards you wasn't your quirk, this had to be it. 

You glanced at him, his gaze meeting yours, and you smile once again, causing his heart to make an odd fucking pause, a snarl appearing on his lips, and he scoffs. But instead of that making you furrow your brows and turn around, you laugh again and turn around. 

~~~

Bakugou had replayed that day over and over again in his head and had arrived at one conclusion. 

You were mad.

You had to be at least a bit mad since it wasn't the most normal thing to smile at strangers as if you knew them for years, especially with a smile as charming as yours, and it was straight-up insane to sleep in a public place, a dangerous place like a subway. 

But whatever conclusion he ended up with, he still couldn't get you out of his mind. It was the stupidest fucking thing ever, made no sense thinking about a stranger you had seen once, but you somehow didn't feel like a stranger. Of course, he didn't feel like he knew you for years, (even though Bakugou thought everyone else but him were just extras, he never forgot a face he saw), but you didn't feel like a threat, either. 

The alerting feeling that formed in his stomach whenever he was around people he didn't know, or sometimes even with the people he did know, wasn't there that time. 

Maybe he was just overthinking. 

Of course, he was over fucking thinking. He had been thinking about a stranger for almost two days straight. (And he hadn't seen you ever since.)

It was such an odd behavior of him that even his friends had noticed something was wrong. Mina had done her best to get a word from him but failed, and Kirishima and Kaminari had declared it their mission to try and cheer Bakugou, and it only meant more for him to deal with.

"Hey, Bakubro, I'm going to the mall today with friends, wanna tag along?" Kaminari asked him the 20th time that day, not even aware it was the worst thing to say if he wanted Bakugou to come. "Look at me you damn Pikachu," Bakugou finally snapped, "If you ask me that one more fucking time, I swear to god-"

"Hey, hey, let's not get violent." Kirishima interrupted before Bakugou finished his threat, thinking it was the best before he spat some illegal shit out. "Then make him fuck off." Bakugou snarled. 

"Yeah, actually, Kami? What are you even trying to do, asking him to come to your date?"

"It's a fucking date?" Bakugou burst, but Kaminari had already sprinted out of the room. "Did he ask me to third fucking wheel? How dense is he?!"

"Calm down, Bakugou." Kirishima sighed. "What's up with you these days, even more irritated than normal?"

"Huh, what the fuck does that even mean?"

"I'm just sayin'." Kirishima shrugged. "You're acting extra grumpy these past few days. You know you can talk to me if you-" 

"Ah, don't start with the cheesy shit, shitty fucking hair. I'm fine." Bakugou cut him off, but his frown was now a bit softer, voice calmer.

"If you say so," Kirishima shrugged. "Hey, by the way, I'm going downstairs to the general studies to change something about my costume, wanna come?"

"General studies? Why the fuck would I go there? You've been visiting that place a lot lately, too." Bakugou asked a little too aggressively, his brows raising when Kirishima grinned. "What, afraid I'll steal your fan?"

"My fan?"

Fan? Bakugou had a fucking fan? Not that he cared, of course, but it still did feel-

Kirishima shrugged with a grin. "You know, the cute student who helped with your gauntlets? Maybe pay a visit to them sometime, they seem to like you a little." Kirishima chuckled when Bakugou kept looking at him blankly. All Bakugou could remember about the person who did his gauntlets was just how pretty their eyes were since he hadn't seen anything but that. He remembered how they always had a flimsy mask on, so it could filter the dust that covered everything in their work station, including the open half of their face.

"I'm not gonna go see an extra just because they like me." He scoffed, but Kirishima could see how Bakugou was dying inside to learn more about this fan of his.

"Sure, whatever you say, bro." He grinned cheekily, gathering his bag and walking downstairs.

~~~

It was the third-day Bakugou had finally stopped thinking about you nonstop, and it felt like freedom. The third time was the charm, wasn't it?

Of course, not. 

You just had to show up the day he was over it, didn't you? You had once again sprinted through the doors just before they closed, heaving in the dirty air, face flushed. You stood up, trying to regain your composure as you smiled proudly at yourself and looking around to find a free seat. 

It didn't take long for you to spot the angry blonde, lips pressed together angrily and vermillion eyes looking directly at you. 

A bright smile appeared on your face just then, and even though you hadn't expected him to do anything, you were surprised when he averted his eyes away from you with a curt nod and a grunt. It had to mean he had acknowledged your smile, right? Well, you hoped it did since you were grinning stupidly at yourself.

You sat on your spot across from him, noticing how people stood even further away from you this time. Glancing at the handsome blonde across you, you tried and couldn't catch his crimson eyes. 

You sighed, frustrated, not aware that Bakugou was even more so. He had promised himself that he wasn't going to be a creep and stare at you like the last time, but your occasional side-eyes and those doe-like glances weren't helping his case the slightest. He wanted to meet your gaze, he really did, but Bakugou also had pride that forbade him from doing so, so he was left there, frustrated and confused.

He was able to keep that up for eight minutes (he had checked, eight minutes and 34 fucking seconds) before he had finally looked at you. Apparently, all it took was eight minutes for you, too, to fall asleep.

You had fallen asleep.

Again?!

"For fucks sake." Bakugou cursed, pressing his fingers on the bridge of his nose and clenching his teeth. He had already concluded you were mad, but a second time? Was this a fucking habit or something?

He grunted in annoyance, but he couldn't take his eyes off you. You looked so relaxed and calm, the smallest smile on your lips, your head moving along with the movements of the train, hands weakly clutching your bag and phone. He felt almost jealous of how reckless you were.

Almost being the keyword, though.

"Don't you fucking get close." He snarled at the man that had been watching you for a few minutes, and he had only taken a step towards you before he heard the blonde and immediately retreated.

His 'come a little closer and I'll bite your head off' look never once faltering, Bakugou was feeling exhausted when he heard your station's name announced, and you opened your eyes. (despite the earbuds that were in your ears? You couldn't have heard the station's name, so how were you able to wake up right on time?)

You gathered your stuff and raised on your legs, just as the train took a sharp turn and caused you to lose your balance, stumbling over to the blonde. "Fuck!" You muttered as you tried to gain your balance back, but the hand that caught you from your wrist did it for you.

"Th-thank you." You told him, sounding a bit out of breath. You chuckled when he grunted. "Be careful, dumb- just be careful." He muttered, eyes slightly widening when he realized he was about to insult you.

You chuckled once again, and Bakugou had to stop himself from smiling back. "See you later, Bakugou-kun." You waved a shy hand, expecting him to sit back in his place, but instead, he looked at you, baffled.

"How do you know my name?

It was hard to surprise Bakugou. Not only was he extremely smart, but he was also very cautious and usually thought almost everything that could go wrong or not.

But he was genuinely, very sincerely shocked when you had started laughing at his question. Out loud, too. You were bending slightly forwards as you laughed, and Bakugou was both amazed and afraid of the motion. You had one of the prettiest laughs he had seen or heard, but this was the most awkward time you could have shown him that.

He had asked you how you knew his name, and you were laughing? He was starting to think you were even crazier than he thought you were. "You're quite popular, you know." You told him. "It's almost impossible to not know about you, especially if- well, after the sport festival, I'd say." You shrugged, pressing your lips in a mischievous smile, and Bakugou had noticed how you stopped yourself before something had slipped out of your mouth.

"Of course, I am." He replied smugly, but his eyes were watching you now even closer as if he was trying to solve a puzzle.

"Well, I have to go now, thanks again!" You smiled and waved goodbye, and Bakugou couldn't stop his scowl turning into an awkward smile.

~~~

It had turned into an odd form of agreement. 

As days passed, you found yourself sitting closer to him, and after almost a week of bumping into each other, you were now sitting next to him, and he had no complaints. 

He thought it was a bit better, actually. Not because he liked, it, of course, he didn't like being so close to you that your shoulders brushed when you moved, your head falling on his shoulder after only a few minutes of riding the train, sitting so close that your smell filled his senses. 

No, of course, he didn't like that, and Bakugou liked having you sit so close to him because that was more convenient, and nothing else. It was easier to scare people away, to track if anyone walking before you was picking and sliding your phone into their pockets. 

And maybe, just maybe, he might be liking your conversations, too. It wasn't much since you were almost always asleep, but when you weren't, Bakugou decided it wasn't the worst. 

"So, mr. future number one hero," ah, and there was that. You referred to him as that often, and even though he was well aware it was mostly teasing, he had to admit it did affect his ego. "How was your day?"

"Fucking long." He sighed, and you giggled. "You always say that!"

"That's cause every day is fucking long!" He groaned, but he had an odd, almost affectionate smile on his lips that just made your heart giddy. "Well, that's hero course for you." You chuckled, biting your lip as you debated whether he'd push you off if you dropped your head on his shoulder now.

This had become your favorite part of the day. Not only was his caramel scent addicting, and it caused you to have the best sleep of your life (you found yourself unable to sleep without caramel scent and the safe feeling it brought to you, so you had to purchase caramel-scented candles), but he was also always warm.

So you did, deciding to live the moment to its best, closed your eyes and dropped your head, half expecting to be thrown off. But he didn't, chuckled instead, the vibrations of his laugh sending chills through your body. "Sleepy already?" He muttered into your hair, surprising you since you thought he wasn't the type to be comfortable with intimacy much, but he looked relaxed.

You could almost feel him smirking when you nodded softly. "Your day was obviously fucking long as well."

~~~

"Ah, man! I forgot my phone downstairs." Kirishima cussed, rolling his eyes at himself. "Hey, Bakubro, I have to leave immediately, but could you pick my phone up for me?"

"Do I look like a fucking maid from there?"

"Please, please! I have to go, and maybe you'll see your fan, too!" Bakugou's brows furrowed, "Whatever, if it'll make you shut the fuck up." He sighed annoyedly, he wouldn't have agreed any other day, but he had nothing better to do since you had texted him about an hour ago that you were going to be late for the train that day. Something about the school, you had told him.

"Really? Dude, you're a lifesaver, thanks!" Kirishima sighed relieved. "Just wake them up if they're asleep! They're like a cat, almost always sleeping in a corner." He added before he left the room. 

Somehow, that description sounded awfully familiar, Bakugou thought.

"Oi, is anyone fucking here?" He called into the dim litten room when he arrived, mumbling to himself something about extras and dumbasses. He had visited the room once or twice when he was having his gauntlets remade, and why did he feel like he was missing something?

"Oi?" He shouted one more time, red gaze stumbling on the figure that was in the corner of the room, almost hiding behind the table, sleeping. His eyes found a half-melted caramel-scented candle on the table, wondering if it was safe to have a candle in a workshop like this one. A mask and workshop clothes stood right next to the candle.

"Hey, I'm fucking talking to... you." His voice trailed off when they lifted their head, stretching their arms when their eyes found the dumbfounded blonde.

"Oh, hey Katsuki-kun!" You cheered, rising to your legs. 

"What the hell are you- why are you... What the fuck?"

You kept your silence, a mischievous smile on your lips as you waited for him to regain his thoughts. You watched as he connected the pieces, a lightbulb almost visible above his head. "You're a fucking student here!" He yelled, and you couldn't help but giggle at how accusing he sounded. 

"Guilty as charged." You raised your hands, teasing him, knowing this was a one-time chance.

"Ah, would you look at the time." You spoke, inspecting the nonexistent watch on your wrist. "We should hurry if we want to catch the next train, you know." You grinned, watching him as he tried to suppress the smile creeping upon his lips. 

"I guess so." He muttered, frowning as he looked away, but it was only to hide the blush that was settling on his cheeks. 

[folkloreguk]

Gold Rush (optional bias)

A/N: I honestly don’t know a lot about the middle ages, so if anyone is a history genius, pls bare with me if I write something that doesn’t make sense asfghjk PS: feedback is greatly appreciated!!

genre: optional bias (male), thief!au, strangers to enemies to lovers, medieval!au, suggestive content, reader is always ready to fight lmao, a tiny bit of angst

summary: As thieves, you both try to steal from the same royal carriage. Only it doesn’t go as planned for either of you. Will you get away before the king sentences you both to death?

words: 8.9 k  

You had been tailing the royal carriages for an entire day now. You were sure your horse was getting exhausted, but the sun was setting and you knew what that meant. Soon, the transport would come to a halt. They would find a clearing somewhere, with trees as shelter from all sides. Then, they would set up their camp for the night, only to pack up everything in the morning and travel another two or three days, until they reached their destination: the castle. Only instead of delivering the full carriages, with gold, silver, pearls and gems, a few handfuls would be missing. It would be almost nothing to them, you suspected. They might not even notice it disappeared.

To you, however, it meant existing. You had to admit, being a thief hadn’t been your first choice when it came to choosing an occupation for the rest of your life. You had tried to integrate into different businesses. You were going to learn to be a baker, a glover and even tried to keep a job helping out on a farm. But none of these professions were for you. You were tired of being commanded around by men who tried to make you their little maid or worse – ask you for your hand in marriage. The judgement was tedious. “Aren’t you too old to be unwed?” “Where is your husband?” “How many children do you have?”

You wished you could talk back. “No, I’m just fine, he doesn’t exist and none – is it any of your business, by the way?” But you had learned that arguing with elders would only get you in trouble, and perhaps your decision to refrain from living the typical life was exactly what made it impossible for you to keep a job. That was, until you discovered your talent – a sleight of hand that was invincible. Some would call it avaricious; you would prefer to describe it as a passion. It wasn’t evil, just a thrill you enjoyed chasing. The beginnings had been humble. A few coins out of someone’s pocket here and there, some food from an unsuspecting marketer; you had to keep yourself afloat somehow, right?

But the seasons went by, and you became more audacious and greedier for your beloved adrenaline. Plus, you realized that stealing from the rich had something weirdly rewarding. Maybe it was the anger you felt at the king for hoarding the wealth of the land whilst letting his people starve in the streets. Either way, stealing from those who had power made you feel a sense of benevolence. You gave away some of your stolen goods to those who actually needed them, instead of letting all the money and jewelry rot away in someone’s bag and around someone’s neck. Sometimes you hid in the shadows after your theft had been settled, only to see the reactions of your victims. It might have sounded obsessive, but it gave you assurance, when they moved on after only minutes of complaint, because you knew those few coins were miniscule to all of them.

And currently, you were on to one of your most reckless thefts. You were well aware this could get you killed. Yet you couldn’t help it, the glimmer of the jewels and the gold was hypnotizing. Finally, the carriages had come to a halt. From a safe distance, you observed how they unloaded their tents and checked especially carefully where they kept the most desired goods. The wares would stay in the carriages, probably guarded all night long. You would need to wait for the right moment.

“Good job today, my dearest Dorato,” you whispered to your horse as you tied the reins to a tree. Gently, you pat his nose. He pushed his head closer to you, demanding more affection, but your eyes were already on your objective. For at least an hour you stood, hidden in the thicket, waiting for the sun to set completely and some of the men to lay to sleep. With a hawk’s gaze you counted the men and made sure you knew each of their whereabouts. One of the wagons stood with its back opening facing you – which was perfect. It was like they were presenting the goods to you on a silver plate. To the left of the wagon, some of the men had lit a bonfire and were seated around it. Judging by their laughter and lively conversations, you doubted they would go to sleep soon. One of them was sitting on the edge of the carriage, meant to guard the inside. He, who should have been paying the most attention, however, was fast asleep. And that was your chance.

“Wish me luck, Dorato,” you whispered to your horse, running your hand over his warm neck. Then, you slowly moved towards the carriage. Outside the shielding cover of the trees, you felt you needed to act quickly. The gales of laughter were helping against your vulnerability in reminding you that the men around the fire were trusting their sleeping guard to have everything under his control. Sly as a fox, you kept your distance and approached the opening of the wagon only when the bonfire was out of sight. You pulled the fabric to the side and with a swift jump, you landed on the edge of the carriage right next to the dozed off man. It only took one maneuver and you had opened the wooden chest nearest to you.

You grinned in triumph at the jackpot in front of you. With eyes sparkling just as much as the diamonds and gems, you grabbed handfuls and transported them into your bag.

“Henry, change of shift!” someone suddenly shouted. Their voice sounded scarily close to you, and then you heard footsteps approaching. Even though you had wanted to be greedier and steal some more, this was definitely your cue to get out of there. If they saw you inside the wagon, you’d be done for. So, without second thought, you yanked the cover away and leaped off the edge.

“Thief!” the surprised man howled as you passed him. Luckily, this wasn’t the first quick escape you had ever had to make. Your feet carried you rapidly, over the grass and into the trees where your horse stood. One quick pull and the reins had come off the tree trunk.

“Over there!” a hoarse man growled. Now more voices were heard, curses and angry shouts directed your way.

“Let’s go, boy,” you said and hauled yourself into the saddle. You pushed your legs against his belly, quickly signaled your horse the way and he knew the drill already. He took off sprinting, out of the forest cover. The wind in your face momentarily forced your eyes to tear up a little and you squinted against the cool night air. But just as you thought you were getting onto the gravel road, one of the guards jumped out in front of you. The fire from the torch he was holding danced aggressively in the wind. As he pointed it high, it was a blaze against the darkness of the night sky, and Dorato whinnied in terror. He jumped and reared up, and you lost balance.

“Seize her!” a man shouted at your disoriented figure on the ground. You wanted nothing more than to get back on your feet and flee. But it was no use. You were surrounded by a number of gravely livid men, and should you try anything stupid now, it would cost you your life, probably. Somebody grabbed your shoulders and pulled you up.

“Take the horse,” one of them ordered and your eyes widened. If they hurt your best friend it was the last thing they would do, you swore in silence. But to your dismay, as the men dragged you over to the wagon, they ripped your quiver and your bow from your back. You sat still as they tied your hands and feet and hurled you into the very wagon you had just stolen from.

“There you have your gemstones,” a guard spoke. “Look at them as much as you want, because soon you won’t be looking at anything anymore.”

Giving him a gaze so spiteful it should have hurt him physically, you spit right into his face. Lucky for you, he wasn’t up for a fight. It wasn’t on him to convict you for anything just yet. A complacent smile spread on your face as he walked away, wiping your saliva out of his eyes. At least now you had a guaranteed roof over your head for the night.

You were in slight trouble, you had to admit that. In two days, you would arrive at the castle. Depending on what the king decided, your punishment could be as severe as death. But until then, it would be a while. There was still plenty of time to escape, you assured yourself.

All night long, no matter how much you forced your eyes shut, you didn’t catch a minute of sleep. The men’s chatter was simply too loud and maybe you were concerned for your safety, after all – even if you would have never confessed it to someone other than yourself. The heavy chests of luxurious items sat across and next to you, as if they were mocking you for your foolish actions. For hours you sat staring at them, cursing your greed. Only in the morning, when the carriages continued their journey, the rocking of the wagon lulled you into a slumber.

~

You awoke later that day. Judging by the dim light falling into the carriage, it must have been the early evening. Curious, you scooted to the edge, lifted the fabric that was covering your sight and checked. Your assumptions had been right. The golden sunlight of the last hour of daytime shone into your face. The wagon you were in was the last of them, behind you only the bright gravel and trees left and right. For a while you daydreamed the boredom away. You went into another world, in which you didn’t have to steal to survive. In your real life, you were either born into luxury or you had to toil each day for the rest of your existence. There was no hard work that could have transported you out of your peasant-state and into something more carefree.

Suddenly, shouts ripped you right out of your dreamworld. The wagon had halted, but when you looked out the back, nothing was there. Trying to learn what the commotion was all about, you concentrated on the chaos of voices. Had they all gotten into an argument? The men were all talking at the same time, so there was really no use but to wait and see.

“You will be delighted to have some company until you receive your sentence from the king,” a man said. Footsteps drew nearer. Someone pulled away the fabric at the end of the wagon. Before you knew it, a figure was pushed inside. It was a young man but clearly not one of the guards, as he was dressed like a peasant. With a groan, he was bracing himself up across from you.

“Enjoying the ride?” the guard outside the wagon taunted you with a sneering grin. You spat in his face. Again.

“You little-“ he snarled.

“Let’s go! We can’t lose any more time!” someone yelled and unknowingly saved you from more trouble. The man disappeared and the carriages began to move again.

You welcomed the newest addition to your wagon by staring him down like he was about to take all the gold and diamonds clearly reserved for you. When he had sat up and checked his surroundings, he noticed your look.

“Is there a problem or something on my face?” he asked.

“Were you trying to steal from them?” you asked back. “Didn’t go as planned, did it?”

“Were you not?” he replied. “My highness, we’re in the same situation, so don’t you try to aggravate me out of tediousness.”

“Don’t you mock me, or you’ll receive the same response as the guard did,” you threatened. “And you are very wrong. You are going to be brought to the castle and thrown into a prison. I will escape.”

“Is that so?” he asked. “I see you’re making great progress with getting out of these ropes. You better hurry, or I’ll get away before you do. I can carry a lot in my pockets.”

You huffed.

“The diamonds are mine,” you stated, matter-of-fact.

“Whoever gets out first will have them,” he replied. “I’m betting on myself.”

“God…could you not have chosen a different day to steal from the royals?” you asked, making it sound more like a statement than a question.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it was your highness’ turn today,” he said, and his smile was taunting and cocky at the same time.

“I told you to stop calling me that!” you hissed, one second from collecting your saliva in your mouth.

“What do you prefer then?” he asked. His smirk made you wonder whether he was contemplating to suggest some more stupid pet names for you. He better not, you thought.

“I don’t know…what about my name?” you said. “It’s Y/N.”

“All right, Y/N,” he said. “And would you consider sitting on death row one of the more entertaining parts of your job? Are you used to it?”

If only looks could kill, he’d be torn to shreds.

“This is the first time I’ve ever been caught,” you said. “But judging by how lightly you’re taking this, you must spend more time in jail than outside of it.”

“What can I say? The guards love me,” he said. “But didn’t they teach you to be honest? I don’t believe you. Or maybe you were a coward for so long and this is your first time actually trying to steal. What’s the truth, sweetheart?”

There was nothing you despised like people who underestimated you. And with that, you spat in his face and turned away from him. Know-it-alls weren’t going to be granted a second of your attention.

“Hey, talk to me,” he said. “We’ll be here for another while, so we might as well become friends.”

“Missed your chance,” you said. And it was the last thing you said to him for a long time. Even when he tried so hard to lure you back into a conversation. You knew if you gave in, he’d never learn.

“My name is H/N, by the way. Oh, that’s right. You don’t care. I forgot,” he said. And he was right.

~

Having to rot away by yourself in the back of a carriage was already exhilarating enough. But rotting away in the back of a carriage while an irritating young man filled your head with stupid stories you could care less about? It made hell sound inviting. Even when the guards had set up their camp for the night, he occasionally tried to get you back into conversation. Because you had slept throughout the day, you knew you’d be awake until the early morning hours, a fact that only made your situation more unbearable.

Your ears picked up the crackling of the wood as the bonfire fed on it next to the wagon. Suddenly, a guard pulled aside the curtain. Without a word, he slid a plate with a piece of bread and a bowl with some water inside and left.

“This is going to be hard to eat with my hands on my back!” the young thief in front of you shouted, but the guard only laughed.

“Nice try,” you said, eyeing the food.

“Oh, she speaks after all,” he said. “And at least one of us is trying.”

“If I had one coin for every time you’ve provoked me since we met, I could buy my freedom,” you said. And again, he was in the wrong. Obviously, you had tried hard to figure out a way to get out of the restraints digging into your skin. If only you had a sharp object or –

“Are you gonna eat that?” he asked, pointing his head at the bread. He was willing to share, at least.

“I’ll bite off half and you get the other side,” you announced and bent your head down to the plate.

“Hey!” he exclaimed, shoving you out of the way so you tumbled onto your side with a huff of surprise.

“What the fuck is your issue?” you asked, regaining you posture.

“I’m taking the first bite,” he said. “I don’t know where your mouth has been.”

“I’ll show you where my mouth is,” you snapped. The next moment you tackled him, teeth digging into his shoulder. He groaned in pain, ferociously pushing you off him. His foot hit your thigh and you realized if you had any chance of getting away, an injured leg wouldn’t make it easier. So, you trudged away slightly.

“Are you out of your mind? Did you just really fucking bite me?” he growled.

“Go ahead, eat your damned bread,” you snarled. With a sulky sigh, you leaned back against the chest behind you, shut your eyes and tried to keep your fury in check.

You sat that way for an hour, maybe a few. With time, the roaring laughter from outside had died down. It must have been the middle of the night when you opened your eyes again. The silence let you conclude that your fellow captive had fallen asleep. Finally, you bent down to where you suspected the water bowl to be and took a few gulps. Only now you realized just how empty your stomach was. But your nose picked up something. Bread. In the darkness, you could hardly make out the half of the piece he had left for you. His humble act redacted your opinion of him from 100 to 98% dickhead. Like a starved animal, you gobbled the food. When you took your place against the chest once more, even you managed to snooze off into a much needed rest.

~

When the carriage steered through a pothole it shook you out of your slumber. Surprisingly, it was completely bright outside.

“You’re just on time,” the young thief across from you announced. “We’re about to arrive at the castle.”

He hadn’t woken you up. Maybe he had earned a few more sympathy points – with emphasis on a few. Only twenty minutes later, you were lead trough the cold halls of some dark part of the castle, down into the dungeon. While the guards dragged you around, even your loudmouth shut. This was new territory and made you slightly nervous. Were you going to make it out of here? So far, nothing was decided. You dearly prayed the king would be in a fantastic mood when he convicted you.

Your whole body was sore from the hours of sitting in the same position on the hard wood of the wagon, so you almost welcomed being shoved through the uninviting halls. One of the guards cut the remaining ropes from your hands, before pushing you into a cell. Much to your dismay, your fellow wagon inmate would also join you in this prison.

“The king will tend to you lowlives when he has time,” the guard said. The loud metallic clash of the prison bars closing and the lock sliding in place sounded like your demise. Your eyes followed the guard’s figure helplessly, until he had disappeared down the dark hallway. A slam of a door indicated that he was gone. Like a nervous animal, you paced from one wall to the other over and over. Your arms were crossed in front of your body and you were trying hard not to have a nervous breakdown. You needed your brain for more vital things right now – like contriving a plan to escape this hellhole before you could be sentenced to death.

“Would you sit down, goddammit!” the young man remarked. He was leaning against the back wall of the cell, eyeing you closely. “I need to think!”

“Do you think I don’t?” you replied. The moment of panic in your voice was short-lived, but he probably noticed it either way.

“I can’t focus if you’re losing it in front of me,” he said. “If you’re already processing your inevitable death, that’s cool with me. But I’m still planning on getting out of here, so please try to process in silence.”

Your nostrils flared in anger and you clenched your hands to fists by your sides.

“You idiot!” you said. “If you hadn’t done everything in your power to make me despise you right when we met, we could have tried to flee together.”

“Last time I checked, you were the one biting me for having a sense of personal hygiene,” he fired back. “We’re stuck in here. But get it together, we’re not on death row yet.”

In disbelief you stared at him, your irritation almost drowning out the restless pounding inside your head. He held his chin high as if to challenge you. And you could have gone for it. Down here in this cold, forlorn dungeon no one would hinder you from fighting each other. No, you knew for a fact that not a single soul in this castle gave one last damn about whether you lived or died. But you were completely drained. After all the sleep you had gotten, you should have been wide awake, and maybe your body was – but your mind was in the middle of shutting down. So, even though it hurt your pride, you stopped your uneasy walking and mirrored his behavior on another wall. Arms crossed and eyebrows furrowing, you kept your eyes on the ground. Maybe he was right. Giving up wasn’t characteristic for you, so why was your head spinning from dread?

In desperate search of some sort of hope, you caught glimpse of his rather relaxed stance. If he could keep up a calm front, maybe you could too. Luckily, he wasn’t looking at you, and not noticing how you drew strength from his so simple but enheartening behavior.

~

Three days into your stay in the dungeon, you had found a daily rhythm. Your mornings consisted of pretending to be asleep for as long as you possibly could, then holding yourself back from attacking your beloved cellmate because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut for more than five minutes. By midday your arguments had usually turned into playful bickering, because you couldn’t cope with being angry all the time. And frankly, you were bored. Even though standing his endless interrogations about your life was exhilarating, it was still better than losing sense of time and in the process also losing your sanity. Late, when darkness had fallen upon the land, a guard delivered a small ration of food for both of you. This was the part where your bickering morphed back into serious conflicts. If you were going to live on tiny amounts of food, you wouldn’t settle for the smaller ration of the two.

The fourth day was different. When you first reached consciousness, you heard nothing. Usually, he was already awake, noticing like a stalker when you awoke, only to tease you from the moment you woke up. But that day, you opened your eyes to a seemingly empty cell. Until you spotted him in the corner. His body was shaking, and his tiny, husky cough concerned you further.

“H/N?” you asked quietly. Considering the amount of loathing you’d thought you held for him, you sure worried an unnormal amount. But it wasn’t the mere thought of him being ill that concerned you most. It was the idea of having to suffer in the dark, murky dungeon all alone, day to day, until you’d have to face the king, who likely wanted you dead for your crimes. An ice-cold fear crept over you. You didn’t want to – no, you couldn’t – die lonely. Even if he was the last person you could have wished to be thrown into prison with, he was still company. This loathsome cell, the horrors of the near future, the neverending progression of time and the uncertainty that came with it – it all terrified you to the bone. Only now you realized just how much comfort he gave you, all by existing in the same space as you.

Carefully, you approached him. He wasn’t answering you, and he never not answered you. It was a heartbreaking sight. He was curled up in a fetal position, hands clenched to fists on his chest. A thin layer of sweat glistened on his forehead. Whether he liked it or not, you sat down with him. Gently, you reached for his forehead. A second was enough to determine he was burning up.

“Get off me,” he said, slapping your hand away. His voice was so frail.

“Hush. Let me help you,” you insisted. He huffed in annoyance.

“Are you a doctor when you’re not a thief?” he asked.

“No. But improving your mentality will help your body recover faster,” you said. “And you seem to be in a very negative headspace right now.”

His mouth opened to speak, but then a shiver rippled through his body and he wrapped his arms around his knees tightly. All this time, he hadn’t even opened his eyes.

“We need to keep you cool,” you said. “Take off your jacket.”

“This isn’t the time to ask me to take off my clothes,” he said, almost whispered.

“Will you just do as I say so you can get better? Do you want to die in here?” you said, brushing off his words. Something flashed across his face. Fear? Disappointment? Aware that it could invade his comfort zone, you very carefully took his hands. Lucky for you, he let you. When his jacket came off, you noticed the sweat stains that had formed on his thin shirt.

“You can lie down on this, it’ll be more comfortable,” you advised. Without arguing, he followed your instructions and allowed you to spread out the jacket underneath him. This behavior was new, you thought. But you could surely get used it. You knew it must have been serious, if he didn’t give you a silly remark for everything you said.

“I’ll get you more water,” you said, as you retrieved the almost empty water bowl from the center of the stone floor. Set on not spilling a drop, you lifted it to his lips and watched as he swallowed the last few sips. You used the sleeve of your shirt to wipe his wet hair out of his face, as he sunk back down onto the hard ground.

“Sleep now,” you said. You didn’t need to tell him twice. He had been almost unable to keep his eyelids open, so without hesitation, he drifted off into dreamland. For hours, you sat, hugging your knees to your chest, eyes on his anguished figure. Just as you had thought you could deal with the scary ordeal of being held captive in a castle dungeon, this had to happen. Stricken with sorrow, you waited for time to pass. If only you could have slept too, it would have made all the anxious thoughts go away. But someone had to look after him, and you weren’t tired.

His slumber must had been a hag-ridden one. Sometimes, he made small sounds, like whimpers, other times his brows furrowed, and his muscles flexed from whichever terror it was that haunted him in his head.

“Shh, you’re going to be okay,” you assured him, and maybe also yourself. But his tireless stirring only became worse, his body twisting and turning on the uneven ground. He groaned in agony, and your heart clenched like a million little daggers had slashed it.

“I’m here to keep you safe,” you whispered, bending down to his level. With utmost care, you lifted his head and let him rest in your lap. You weren’t really planning what was happening, but your hands found his hands. Softly, you stroked them, waiting for him to calm down and relax his tight fists. His mumbles and quiet moans of distress continued, until you realized. He was trying to tell you something.

“I can’t go like this,” he said.

“You’re not go-“ you started.

“No! My- parents need- me,” he stuttered. By now he was grasping your hands desperately. You sighed and his eyes opened ever so slightly. The anger he had held for you was vanished. You almost teared up at the delicateness of his gaze.

“I need to help them... they’re old and sick and can’t be alone,” he added in a small voice.

“We will get out of here,” you said. You had no idea when there had first been a ‘we’, but now there apparently was. “You have to be strong now, do you hear? Then you can meet your parents again.”

He was looking almost through you. His eyes were so dark, it was like staring right into the deepest part of the ocean. You stroked the back of his hand with your thumb, whilst trying hard to keep a hopeful gaze. For him, you had to appear strong. Or else, how else was he supposed to be?

“I’m sorry- I was such an asshole to you,” he suddenly confessed. “I thought you would steal away the gold before I could. And now look where that brought us.”

“This isn’t your fault. We were both being reckless,” you said. “I’m sorry I bit you. And threatened to spit on your face. And then spat on your face.”

The tiniest smile spread on his face. Success. Any sort of positive emotion could help him now.

“That wasn’t very nice,” he whispered. “I’ll think about whether I can forgive you. You must know, I’m very vindictive.”

His grin was playful, and his eyes were closed, as if he was on the brink of falling back to sleep.

“Forgiveness hurts less than holding a grudge for the rest of your life,” you said. Who knew? Maybe even the king could show remission. All you knew was that you would crumble, would you have to encounter the king alone. Your brain had set on the need for H/N. For years, you hadn’t formed any meaningful relationships – not counting your bond with your ardently loved horse. Now, with his head on your lap and your fingers intertwined with his, you ached for more. Was it really him you wanted? Or had you denied yourself of any affection for such a long time, the smallest contact with anyone appeased your yearning? Would you have felt the same, if it had been somebody else in his place?

~

At night, the metal noise of the door at the far end of the hallway outside your cell made you lift your head. Gently, so that H/N wouldn’t be awoken, you lifted his head to lay on the jacket instead of your thigh. In impatience, your foot tapped on the ground while you stood in the middle of the cell.

“Sir,” you called the guard with a fake-soft voice. “Will it be possible to receive another cup with water? My fellow inmate has fallen sick.”

The grumpy guard unlocked the metal bars, entering with the usual small ration of food and drink.

“What does it matter if he dies now or by command of the king? Do you think I care?” he growled, not sparing you a glance. You had been almost convinced this would have happened. So, you’d have to resort to different measures.

“Please-“ you begged, suddenly stepping towards the guard, who was on his way out of the cell. Without second thought, you threw yourself onto him, making sure to look extra-devastated and helpless. What could a weak, little young woman do to a guard, other than fall on her knees, right?

“Touch me once more and you’re dead, too, bitch!” he barked. One quick move of your skilled fingers and you eagerly backed off, hands hiding behind your back.

“Sorry, sir!” you said, lowering your head in false shame and guilt. “Please consider my request.”

All he gave you was a grunt of disapproval and he stomped out of the cell, the lock falling into place in a loud crash. Feigning inferiority and intimidation, you didn’t dare move until he was out of the dungeon. Then, you spun to the young man behind you on the ground.

“Open up,” you commanded, suspecting the shouting could not have kept him asleep. Finally, you could pull the flask you had stolen from the guard from behind your back. It seemed to be almost filled to the brim, too. Perfect. He did as he was told, and you let some of the water spill into his mouth.

“I take back what I said in the carriage,” he confessed. “Only full-time thieves have a sleight of hand like yours.”

“It was my pleasure proving you wrong,” you said. “Now, drink up.”

That night, you let him have the full ration of food. For at least ten minutes, he refused to have all of it. But you were stubborn and even though he hadn’t known you for long, he knew that much about you. If you wanted to escape with him, he would need to be fit to run. You had deemed your chances small to begin with, but in his state, you estimated them close to zero. After you had emptied the guard’s flask, you reached through the prison bars and tossed the item as far away from the cell as you could. He should never assume you’d had anything to do with its disappearance. The next day, a different guard would find it there, and bring it back to him under the assumption that he had carelessly dropped it.

~

Two days passed by. In the first night of the two, you had to comfort him through another few nightmares. During the day, he was sleepy, but had enough energy to have a little conversation with you now and then – something you read as a good sign. The second night, you were able to sleep all the way through, and when you checked his forehead in the morning, it had cooled down a little. On the second day, he had regained his strength enough to be able to sit, leaning against your shoulder.

“Will you stop moving? My head’s pounding,” he said.

“Your complaints make me wonder if you’re doing well now,” you asked, smirking.

“Like I said…my head’s killing me,” he repeated.

“Drink the rest of the water,” you suggested. “I think it’s almost evening. The guard will bring a new bowl soon.”

“It’s your turn to eat tonight,” he stated.

“We’re sharing,” you said. Lucky for him, he didn’t fight back. You wouldn’t have cooperated, either way.

“It’s time to make a plan now, if we want to get out of here. What do you say?” you asked. When he lifted his head, you looked over at him. The color was back in his face, the beads of sweat nonexistent and his cheeky smile bright as ever.

“I wonder…about what your little magic hands did to that guard’s flask…could they do the same with his keys?” he suggested. The way you mirrored his mischievous grin, he knew you agreed. But it would be trickier, this time. From days worth of observation, you had learned that the guards behaved differently. Some adamantly made sure the keys remained in their clenched fists – an instance you couldn’t work with at all – while others preferred to leave them in the lock by the door. You knew you’d never get close enough to even attempt to steal them from there. What you needed was the careless type of guard. The one who snuck the keys into their pockets or left them hanging on their clothes by the keyring. All it took now was to wait and hope the king would keep you locked away for long enough to give you a chance to flee.

That night, luck wasn’t on your side. The guard kept his hands on his keys as if they were his most precious possession.

~

“Do we really have to go over this again? I told you your pacing is driving me insane,” he said. It was midday of the following day, and you were deep in thought – or you had been – until he had to interrupt you.

“What do you expect me to do? We’re jailed like animals,” you countered. “I can’t stand around like you all day.”

When you saw him open his mouth, you read in his expression what he was about to do. It was his bickering face.

“If there’s one thing I’m not in the mood for currently, it’s getting lectured by you over nothing. Come up with a topic of conversation, please,” you said before he could speak. His smirk concerned you.

“What are you in the mood for, then?” he asked with raised eyebrows. Your death glare said more than a thousand words. “Fine, here’s a conversation topic…let me think…why are you not married?”

“Are you fucking kidding me,” you said in the most impassive tone you could muster.

“Oh, alright, if that’s not good enough, I’ll go back to flirting,” he said. The steps he was taking towards you made your brain activate fight mode.

“I’ve never met a man good enough for marriage,” you said.

“And what qualifies a man to be good enough for you?”

“Hm…where do I begin? I’m not a good cook, nor do I enjoy being a maid, nor do I know how to take care of children. Most men want those things in a woman.”

“You took pretty good care of me, didn’t you? But why waste your thieving talent on running a household?” he said.

“That’s where the issue lays. Men don’t favor women who sneak around the village at night and make their own money from being a criminal.”

“Nothing wrong with being a criminal,” he went on.

You laughed out loud.

“You know what? I like it this way. Why settle for staying with one man who might turn out to be a monster, when I can have them all for a night?” you said.

“Well, right now you’re not having anyone.”

“Seems like that’s bothering you more than it bothers me,” you replied in a feisty tone. If you didn’t call him out for the flirting, who would? Although you had to admit, you greatly preferred being courted to his unnerving teasing.

“Why would that bother me?” he asked. “You hate me, don’t you?”

He was right in front of you now, tilting his head and giving you a smirk that made you consider biting him again. And at the same time, something in your body – not your head – wanted to close the small distance between you two.  

“If I hated you, I would have let you die,” you said.

“I assumed you kept me alive because you need me to get out of here.”

Now you had another reason to get up in his face. You gripped him by the collar, looking into his eyes.

“Excuse me? You think I wouldn’t be able to escape by myself? If you’re only trying to rile me up, you better let me know, because I already told you I can’t stand to be underestimated,” you said.

“Alright,” he rose his arms in defeat. “After your little stunt with the guard I’m actually pretty glad I have you in here with me. Honestly, I don’t think I’d get out without you.”

“Was that so hard to spit out?” you said, self-accomplished.

“No. But you only come close to me when you’re mad or worried,” he said. By now, his eye contact was captivating in the most confusing way possible. His eyes occasionally skipped to your lips. “And since I’m not sick anymore, I had to opt for the former.”

“You’re unbelievable,” you said. Unbelievably handsome, your brain added. And yes, maybe he was. Perhaps it wasn’t so much his beautiful face, but the way he spoke, understanding, even encouraging your lifestyle. You had just forced him to be honest with you. So, maybe it was time to stop holding back the truth from yourself, too.

“What are you going to do about it?” he asked. It’s time to give in, you told yourself. Therefore, rather than telling him, you showed him. With a sudden rush of hunger, your lips crashed against his. Momentarily, he seemed taken aback and let out a surprised groan. But within seconds he caught himself, hands grabbing your sides desperately. You thought addictions needed more time to develop, but the feeling of his mellow lips on yours already seemed like one to you.

You had never kissed anyone who had truly made you feel things. Now, your knees were weak in an instant when his tongue grazed yours only for a moment. After so much arguing, it was hard to believe your hands clasping the fabric of his shirt couldn’t be a product of you cursing him but derived from mere want. The way he claimed your mouth silenced even your most invasive thoughts. It was a serenity you had wished for ever since you had gotten caught a few days ago. A moment to breathe freely, make whichever noises you desired and be as close to him as you could.

You pulled him along, stumbling backwards until you hit the cold stone behind you. Being trapped in a dungeon was horrific – but being trapped between his body and the wall left you feeling safer than you had felt in a long, long time.

But the peace didn’t last long. You suddenly heard the all too familiar metal noise from the distance. Alarmed, you sprung apart. As the unexpecting guard walked down the dark hallway, you smoothed out your clothing hastily.

“Congratulations! Your time in here will be over. Tomorrow the king will see you,” the guard announced. You shot your fellow inmate an alerted gaze, which he returned. Silently, he nodded at you. It was time to do something. The guard was now opening the door, bringing inside your food. His key was in his hands – this was going to be an issue. He set the plate down in the front of the room, and was in the process of spinning around, when H/N spoke.

“Sir, may I attract you to a magic trick?” he asked the guard. “I have been practicing it for so long, and it would be a shame if I had to die before I could ever present it.”

“Go to hell,” the guard said.

“I have a coin here,” H/N added. The guard raised his head. “If you win, you get to keep it.”

“Give it to me,” the annoyed man said.

“That’s not how it works. First, I will need both of your hands,” H/N explained. You smiled slightly when the guard sighed. He complied, letting his keys disappear into his oversized pocket. Retrieving them would be child’s play for you.

“Stick up your hands ahead of you. And keep your eyes locked on the coin. Be quick, or you’ll lose it,” H/N said in his dramatic voice. As he lifted his own hand with the coin in it, the guard followed and looked upwards. This was your time. Like a cat, you tip-toed around the guard’s back, not even paying attention to what H/N was doing anymore. Ever so swiftly, your hand slid into his pocket, fingers closing around the chill metal. As quickly as you had approached him, you stepped away, the key sliding into your sleeve and out of sight.

“Incorrect!” H/N called. “But you know what? I will grant you the coin either way. By tomorrow, I might not need it any longer.”

The guard even went so far as to laugh – even if it was a gloating sort of laughter. The only thing left to do now was hope he wouldn’t discover his missing key. But luck was on your side. Without another word, the man stepped out of the cell, shut the door, and walked off. The tune he whistled became smaller and smaller, until it faded out completely.

“Guess who’s getting out of here?” you asked, triumphantly revealing the key.

“You did it!” he exclaimed. You weren’t sure whether it was a spur of the moment decision, or maybe he was just too ecstatic to stop himself, but he flung his arms around your frame and squeezed you tightly.

“Hey, hey, you can’t crush me so close to my escape,” you laughed.

“Our escape,” he smiled. “We need to act fast. He could notice the missing key any second.”

Nodding eagerly, you grabbed half of the bread and downed half of the water bowl. You weren’t going to leave that behind. After all, you never knew when your next meal would be.

“If we make it to the stables, we can get a horse,” he announced. “I saw them on our way here. They’re to the west. The sun should be setting now, if my sense of time is still correct. Let’s hurry, or else we’ll be out of directions.”

“Dorato!” you exclaimed. “They took my horse!”

“The black horse that was tied to the carriage when we came here? I saw him,” he noted. You nodded, swearing you would leave here without Dorato only over your dead body.

~

Ten minutes later you had successfully exited the cell and approached the door at the end of the hallway.

“Out there it’s on both of us to keep running, okay?” you whispered.

He only nodded. “Towards the setting sun.”

The second you had slipped past the door you were spotted by a maid.

“Prisoners!” she yelled. Your plan to slip away unnoticed had gone down the drain quickly. With one last glance at the young man next to you, you both took off. The way out of the castle was still burned into your brain from when you had been brought inside. Back then, you had already planned to get out, so you had payed an extra amount of attention. When you reached a turn, you barely had time to think about the right way. By now, two guards were after you and you were forced to trust your intuition. H/N was a little ahead of you. The sudden exercise after being refined to a tiny cell for so long made your chest burn in exhaustion after only such a short while. But the adrenaline drowned it all out easily.

You knew you had to be close to the outside, it was a feeling. But then, all of a sudden, a guard cut off your path in front of you. H/N was racing far ahead, so that he could get away. You, on the other hand, had no time to overthink your actions. Before the guard could catch you, you had ducked under his outstretched arms. Now, sprinting down an unfamiliar corridor over the marble flooring, your sense of direction was gone, but your will to survive vigorous as ever.

For minutes you ran, collecting a horde of guards behind you the longer you kept going. When you turned a corner, you were greeted by another long corridor. Only this time, it was a dead end.  Nevertheless, you kept up the speed. What else could you have done? By now, your calves felt like they were on fire, breath coming in short gasps. You suddenly took notice of the precious paintings and statues that adorned the hallway. Maybe this was the answer.

Without slowing down, you took hold of a stone vase. Just for a moment, you gathered all your might. Then, you dashed it forward, against the window at the very end of the corridor. Your body followed shortly after, but it was enough time for the glass to shatter before you. In a protective manner, you folded your arms over your chest and shut your eyes tightly as your figure flew through the opening.

When you had passed the window, your eyes opened, and you ducked. Soft grass caught your body as you rolled onto the ground. The impact knocked the air out of your lungs momentarily. But within seconds you were back on your feet. Aggressive shouts from behind you only motivated you to keep going. Faster. Just a little longer. Dawn had broken in, but the sky was still a bright blue to your left. That’s where you were headed. A market place close by acted as the perfect cover for a while. You barely had time to watch out, crashing into people’s shoulders and knocking over bowls and baskets. An enraged shout followed you, but you were already far gone.

And he had been right. Your nose picked up the scent of hay and animals. You had to be close. What if he wasn’t there? What if they caught you again? A short panic bubbled up inside of you. Stealing might could have been forgiven, but for your current deeds no king would let you live. The wooden stables were in sight by now.

You could barely breathe anymore, but something inside of you kept you up and going nonetheless. Every breath burned as you entered, stalls of horses and other animals to your left and right. But no sight of H/N. Nor of your horse. Did he leave without you? Had he assumed you had been caught and tried to save his own life, at least? Your head spun as you scanned the animals one last time. Then, the men’s deep shouts caught up with you. You needed to get out, or else this stable would turn into a trap.

When your feet hit the cobblestone outside, you spotted the mob of angered men and women coming at you. They were holding spears, torches and pitchforks and were livid.

“Y/N!” someone suddenly yelled from your right. The sound of his voice had never sounded better to you. He was on your horse, careering towards you. One last look at the furious crowd of peasants and guards, and then you only focused on him. Only a little more strength, and you could get out of here.

The second he was close enough to you, you started running again. Like you had done so many times, you hauled yourself onto Dorato behind him. Your hands caught his shirt and you pulled your body flush against him. You needed no words. Now, you only needed to trust your horse to get you out of here. Just for a moment, you closed your eyes in exhaustion and took a few, consciously deep breaths. In lightning speed, you raced across the grass and towards the archway out of the courtyard.

And you made it. He shouted in a boisterous tone, and while at first you laughed, you couldn’t help but join his happiness loudly.

 ~2 months later~

 The rough bark of the tree was digging into your back, but you couldn’t have cared less. Not when he was all over you. Not when his scent was so intoxicating, and his busy hands made you forget about any other sensation on your skin. It took no time. You had escaped together, thinking it was your time to part ways after what you had gone through with him. Now, each day you hung on his every word and couldn’t even bear to be away from him for minutes at a time.

Not far from you, your two horses stood, grazing on the grass by their feet. Meanwhile, the two of you, supposed to be on the lookout for your next target, had found another occupation in the cover of the trees. The market close by wasn’t exactly your goal – it was the nobles who would arrive in their carriages like every weekend to spend time by the beautiful lake. While they had their picnics and gossiped about each other, there was enough time for you two check for some gifts to retrieve from their carriages.

You sighed happily as he kissed your neck ever so softly. In him, you hadn’t just found a partner in crime. He was your muse, your comfort and your home. His family was your new family and finally, you had someone to tell all your most unbridles stories and dreams to – someone who could actually reply, with no offense to your horse. Going out stealing was as exciting as hiding between the sheets with him. In such a short time, he had learned to read your face and knew every curve of your body like it was a part of himself, and you had no problem with that.

Suddenly, he pulled away. He looked over your shoulder, gaze changing from tranquil to fierce.

“There they come,” he announced. That moment, you heard the sounds too. Hooves and the crunch of gravel under wheels. Smiling in excitement, you turned to check the situation as well. But you had to be honest, he was much more entertaining to look at. Like in so many cases, you found yourself tied to his gorgeous features and the way his jaw clenched when he was plotting.

“Eyes on the prize, sweetheart,” he said, not peeling his look from the carriages.

“Don’t you know, I’ve already won the best prize there is in the world?” you asked, hearts in your eyes and a cheeky smile on your face.

[ruewrites]

I Wanna Hold Your Hand

AO3

TaBoL

Ship: Solomon/Asmodeus

Word Count: 2082

Warnings: Mild Violence

A/N: Day 4 of Solodeus Week! I decided to mix Royalty!Au with Curse. I will be updating TaBoL again after this week, but I hope you enjoy the lightness of this oneshot with the heaviness going on in the main story right now!

Asmo was more than delighted with their little predicament. Solomon, however, didn't exactly share his enthusiasm.

"Asmodeus, my palm is getting sweaty."

"But we get to hold hands!" Asmo squealed, "You love holding my hand!"

"True, but I also love to do things with my hands."

It was incredibly hard to read his spells right when the fifth born prince of Arcadia was on top of him and in his lap. It was incredibly hard to focus when he was also moving his hips against him and kissing along his neck. He was lucky that it hadn't been a more dangerous spell. But he also couldn't blame Asmo. After all, he was more than happy to be an active participant in his actions.

It wasn’t that he was unfamiliar with curses, no, in fact he was very familiar with them. Some minor ones could be useful for catching thieves, or wiggling the truth out of liars, but he never imagined that one like this would stick him to Asmodeus. Perhaps he should be wiser when choosing readings in Asmodeus’ company.

With a sigh he grabbed his book with his free hand and dragged Asmo with him to the edge of the bed. There had to be a way to undo this spell. Not that he didn’t like holding his hand, he loved holding his hand, but certain situations would call for him to use both of his hands. Not only that, but he and Asmo couldn’t always be together, and being stuck together when they needed to be in two places at once was rather inconvenient.

Asmo leaned against his shoulder, eyes glancing down to the book and back up to Solomon. Solomon’s lips moved ever so slightly as he looked over the words, trying to make sense of the text before him.

“This is nice,” Asmo chirped, interrupting his train of thought. “I like watching you read, you look very attractive when you’re focused.”

Solomon couldn’t help but roll his eyes, “Well thank you, but focus requires quiet, and I’m going to need that in order to figure out what we need to do to fix this.” If he was able to poke Asmo’s nose he would have. So instead he placed a small kiss on it.

“I don’t think we need to fix it so quickly. I don’t think it’s that big of a problem."

"You'll think differently when we have things we need to get done, I don't think it is incredibly possible for us to function like this."

"But-"

"Shhhh. We'll be holding hands while I figure out what we need to do.”

Asmo seemed slightly satisfied with that answer and remained silent as Solomon continued to scan through the book.

***

“Solomon! Slow down!” Asmo squeaked, stumbling along behind the king. He’d called a carriage to take them to the outskirts of the kingdom. Just as their luck would have it, it appeared that Solomon was only missing one singular ingredient needed to fix their little screw up.

All the sudden he felt himself jerk back as his fiance dug his heels into the earth, “Asmo-”

“You almost took me through a mud puddle Solomon. A mud puddle! Do you realize how hard that would have been to get out of my clothes? You’re being such a reckless man!”

“Alright, alright, I apologize,” Solomon said, “But darling, you need to keep your voice down, we don’t know what could possibly be prowling around these parts.” As he spoke he noticed Asmo’s eyes go wide, fixed on something behind him.

Great.

Perfect.

Did he dare turn around or should he just curse his luck further?

Before he even had the chance to turn around, Asmo was yanking him out of the way. His eyes just managed to catch quills slicing the air where his head had been moments ago. The two of them stumbled off into a tree where Solomon finally got a glance at the creature. It had a humanoid face, surrounded by sharp quills, it’s body was that of a large cat, and it’s tail was spiked, thrashing widley. It’s fangs were bared towards them as Solomon tried to put himself in front of Asmo.

“I can’t get to my dagger,” Asmo whispered, “Not with my dominant hand anyways.”

Because Solomon was currently glued to it.

His eyes never left the beast. He couldn’t risk it pouncing and catching them off guard.

Being stuck together wasn’t too bad.

But being skewered together wasn’t something Solomon was looking to try.

“Just stay close,” Solomon whispered, bringing Asmo closer to him, “Listen and do exactly what I say when I say it."

Asmo's nod was so slight that Solomon barely registered it. They waited, letting their hunter circle them. Swaying back and forth, looking for an opening. This was the downside of being stuck like this. Yes Asmodeus was strong, and Solomon knew he could take care of himself, but he didn’t like the idea that he was the one putting him in danger. He should never intentionally be putting him in harm’s way.

He would put himself down first, but if something happened to one of them, they were both doomed. Asmodeus would have even less of a chance of surviving if he was stringing along his corpse. The stakes were higher than they normally would be.

His eyes drifted downwards to those sharp talons, the way they curled in the soil. He just needed the right moment, an opening.

Then the beast stopped.

"Left!" Solomon didn't give Asmo time to respond, yanking him along as the beast lunged for them. They stumbled onto the ground together, narrowly avoiding being slashed open.

But the beast was quick and agile. Solomon barely had the time to raise a shield above them before it pounced again. He could feel the strain on his body with each blow that came down onto the barrier. This creature really wasn’t going to give up until it had them both between its jaws.

He’d failed his kingdom.

He’d failed Asmo.

He’d failed.

At least he could die in his love’s arms.

“Solomon-”

“Asmo, I’m so sorry that things are going this way. I-”

“That’s great darling, but look underneath us,” Asmodeus sounded oddly calm. Solomon debated if he should take his eyes off of the furious creature before them.

“Darling,” he could hear the exasperation in Asmo’s voice, and soon a flower was in his line of vision, “While I love the dramatics you’re putting on, isn’t this the little flower that was in your book?” If they weren’t about to be eaten by a giant beastie, Solomon could have kissed him. His absolutely wonderful Asmodeus.

Solomon’s grin was wider than the maw of the creature, “Perfect! That is exactly what I was looking for, now put a petal in my mouth.”

“Excuse me?”

Solomon hissed as the creature threw itself against the shield once more and his magic flickered. “Asmodeus please just do it.”

Asmodeus quickly placed a petal on his tongue and Solomon started to chew. Then, once he thought it was good enough, he spat it onto their hands.

“Ew Solomon!” Asmo screeched, but Solomon would make it up to him later.

Their hands were now freed, but Solomon wasn’t sure how much he would be able to do after he drained more of his powers trying to keep the beast at bay. All he knew was that he’d do anything in his power to keep Asmodeus safe, even if that meant providing a distraction long enough for him to run. All he had to do now was prepare himself to take the wall down. All he had to do was breathe and think of Asmo’s wonderful smile.

But he didn’t even get to think too much about anything aside from that.

As the beast reared, Solomon lowered the shield, and then a figure darted past him. A terrible screech echoed all around them as Asmo plunged his dagger deep into its chest and twisted. He didn’t let up, didn’t let go. Even as it toppled backwards, Asmo pressed forwards staying on top of it until it’s thrashing movements came to a halt.

Asmo’s back rose and fell as he removed his dagger. Blood splatter sprayed his front and his arms, his dagger glistened a dark crimson. His hand raised to his head, and then he hesitated, a look of disgust crossing his face.

Solomon wasn’t sure what it was, but something about the image sent a wonderful red color straight to his cheeks. Something inside of him wanted to ravish the prince. But Asmo smacked his hand away as soon as he went to reach for him.

“Oh no. Nuh uh. Who told you it was okay to spit on my hand? My husband should know better! That was absolutely revolting,” he snapped. The tip of his dagger rested on his chest, but Solomon didn’t even flinch. Instead he brought his hands up and gently cupped Asmo’s face.

“I’m sorry my love, I did what I had to, but I promise that I can make it up to you.”

Asmo raised an eyebrow.

“How about a nice warm bath where I tend to you and spoil you?”

Asmo’s eyebrow raised a little higher.

Oh he was insatiable.

“Perhaps I could call the tailor in? I could get new clothes made and ordered for you, maybe even get your crown shined?”

Asmo let out a sigh and dropped his dagger from Solomon’s chest, “I suppose we can talk about it.”

He was forgiven.

Solomon took that moment to press a kiss to Asmo’s lips, “Good. Now, why don’t we head back and get you cleaned up before more trouble manages to find us.”

The walk back was a lot less eventful, and Solomon could feel his bones start to ache. His eyes glanced over to Asmodeus, his hand gently laying by his side. He couldn’t help himself. Testing the waters, Solomon moved closer to brush their fingers together. Asmo glanced at him and Solomon repeated the action before intertwining his fingers with Asmo’s.

“Now King Solomon,” oh Solomon loved the way he said that, “I thought you didn’t want to hold my hand anymore.”

“Of course I want to hold your hand. I do love how soft they are, and I love how your fingers look wrapped around your dagger.”

“Oh you would love something so brutish wouldn’t you?” Asmo teased, “Refined King Solomon, who is always so deep in his books, loves watching the delicate little Arcadian prince slaying a big ugly monster because of how his spit-covered hands look wrapped around a dagger.”

Solomon wrapped himself around him, not caring in the slightest if blood got on his cloak, “And if I do?”

“And what if you do?” Asmo challenged.

There was so much Solomon loved about him, and that fire in his eyes was one of the things he absolutely adored. Asmodeus was strong in more ways than one, and Solomon knew this to be true. All he could hope was that he helped Asmo flourish and grow.

“Isn’t that the question,” Solomon said leaning in, “But now all I wish is to hold your hand.”

“You’re avoiding the question.”

“But will you let me?”

Asmo met him halfway, letting his lips meet Solomon’s. His heart soared at the tiniest bit of contact with Asmo, and when they pulled apart, Solomon could feel his body begging for more. He could never get enough of Asmodeus, and he would never get enough of Asmodeus. How could he? He was beautiful and powerful all in his own right.

“So may I hold your hand?” Solomon asked again.

“You said you would attend to me in the bath as soon as we got back?” Asmo asked, leaning in close.

“That I did.”

“Then I suppose I could let you hold my hand. Perhaps I’ll even let you hold it the rest of the way back.”

“Oh my Asmodeus is too kind to me.”

And so they walked back to the palace, hand in hand. Solomon didn’t intend to let go any time soon. Asmodeus always had a grip on him. His hands held his heart so tenderly, and his very presence always had him in such a captivating grasp.

Asmodeus was wonderful, and Solomon considered himself lucky that he had the honor of holding the Arcadian prince’s hand. It was one he didn’t deserve, and yet Asmo blessed him every day.

[irwinkitten]

black cat magic | l.h

notes: look i am alive! things have been hellish but i got this out for the writers collab event that @maluminspace and @h0tsos created! since i had to bow out for the last one, i was determined to do this one and had an idea inspired by this comic strip. despite life being particularly shitty, i still enjoyed this idea. also not using my old tag list because effort to find it all and go through, so my apologies. warnings: none? just injured kitty who gets some love. word count: 2k prompt:  Person A finds an injured black cat, and takes it home to take care of it, not knowing the cat is actually a shapeshifter

donate to my ko-fi?  

-

There was a legend from days of old, when warlocks and witches ruled in tandem with the fae and shapeshifters. ‘Should you want to meet your match, then try to befriend, or trap, or catch, the black feline that lives where the grey door is told, to be a secret gateway for jewels and gold. But do not fool the cat with thieves or you shall pay with your misery.’ It was a legend that no one ever learned if it was true, but the house with the grey door was never sold, never had any kind of people live there in the years. 

Many attempted to rob it and those who had tried suffered in life with struggles which left them with nothing but misery. Most ignored the black cat with startling blue eyes as it watched the world go by. But not you.

The first day you greeted it, you were slow, knowing better than to trust any kind of animal that could bite or claw you. 

It purred once your fingers threaded through its fur, content to let you stay there and pet it. 

“Aren’t you a handsome kitty?” You crooned, scratching under the cat’s chin. As it tilted it’s head up, you glanced underneath it to read the tag on it’s collar.

‘Luke’

“Luke, huh? Are your owners in or do you just roam freely?” Not expecting an answer from the cat, you chuckled when he meowed back at you before hopping off the wall and heading to the door.

“See you soon, I’ve got to get back to work.” You weren’t sure why you were reassuring the cat, but you headed back home, with your thoughts drifting to the black cat that had startling blue eyes.

On one of the sunnier days, you chose to bring one of your books with you and you’d found a small hill beside the house that had tall ivy plants hugging the walls. Atop of the hill was a tree that gave you good shade to hide from the heat of the day and as you sat down and studied, it wasn’t much longer until you had a visitor in the form of a black cat.

“Hi there Luke.” You greeted the cat as he came up for fuss. It made you chuckle how he settled himself in your lap, content to sleep whilst you read on, occasionally biting your hand gently when your eyes grew sore.

“You must have a sixth sense or something.” You murmured after tucking the book away, switching to one for pleasure instead. 

This time, he maneuvered himself under your hand so that your fingers were running through his belly fur, purring non stop, making you chuckle.

“Maybe I should bring some toys with me for you to play with. You’re more likely to turn my hand into a scratching post should I pet your belly for too long.” You laughed at your own joke, but he simply meowed in return and stayed sprawled across your lap on his back.

Ignoring all instincts that told you to stop petting him, you carried on, surprised at the lack of teeth or claws, and when you next looked up from your book, you found him fast asleep under your ministrations.

“Weird cat.” Was the soft murmur from you as you carried on reading until it started getting dark and you had to make your way back home.

You found yourself returning until the day you found him on the side of the road, the pitiful whines breaking your heart as you realised he’d been run over.

“Oh my poor boy.” You whispered, carefully scooping him up. He seemed to know you were there to help him, claws digging into your shirt as you cradled him. “Let's get you to the vet and make sure that they can help you. If you’re still fighting to hold on, they’re not gonna give up on you.” 

The journey to the vets was harsh with his painful meows ringing through your soul. But he behaved as the vet helped him, biting the technician only once when they caught him unawares. 

You’d been right in your assumption, however. They weren’t willing to put him down because there was still the chance he would survive. So you made the decision to nurse him back to health.

The first few nights were tiring. They warned you it wasn’t going to be easy, but it was also the most rewarding watching as he snuggled down into the bedding on the first night.

It was weeks of falling in love with the cat, knowing that it wasn’t yours. Despite the owners not seemingly answering, there had been a letter in your post, with money to cover costs and a small thanks of taking care whilst the owner was currently away. 

You had wondered how they’d found out, but in the small town, news travelled fast and more often than not, everyone knew everyone, so someone had to have informed the owner.

When he was allowed to walk again, you found yourself with a small black shadow, almost like he wasn’t willing to leave you alone. And this didn’t bother you, but it didn’t help with the heartbreak that you had, knowing you couldn’t keep the furball of joy that was changing your life.

After six months, he simply vanished one evening and you wondered if he’d made his way back home and part of you felt your chest ache, but you knew you couldn’t keep him. He wasn’t yours and you had to remind yourself that constantly as you carried on about your evening and settled into bed.

That was the first night you’d had a strange dream, a man with golden curls and bright blue eyes sat with you under a familiar tree as he talked about an old tale that you’d heard from your great grandparents when you were a small child.

“The lore is as old as the town itself. I wanted to find someone worthy to share everything with.” That pulled your attention, even in your dream state.

“You wanted to? Then wouldn’t that make you like, well over two centuries old?” He laughed and you wondered if it was real or not because it sounded beautiful.

“Three and a half actually. Time has no essence when you’re immortal though.” His lips were curved up into a smile as he shifted so that his head rested in his lap.

The dream felt familiar as you threaded your fingers through this stranger's golden locks.

“But you look so young...” You trailed off in confusion.

“Benefits. I could choose to grow old, but I want to be with someone who I love. Maybe then I’ll grow old. But I’ve waited for so long now, I shouldn’t be bothered waiting any longer.” 

You hesitated.

“What’s your name?” This made him chuckle as he turned onto his back, his eyes holding yours as your fingers slowly stopped.

“Luke.” And then you noticed the familiarity of his bright blue eyes.

You woke up with a gasp, glancing at the clock as you did so. The numbers read three am, and without even thinking, you wrapped yourself in your jacket, barely remembering to collect your house keys before stumbling along the streets towards the old house that had sat there for centuries.

The lights were on when you reached the home and you felt uneasy for a second before pushing open the gate. Before you could knock on the door, you heard the meow.

“Luke.” Your voice was quiet as you turned, studying the cat who was sitting underneath a window. You watched as he stood on all fours, turning tail to head around the corner of the house, and in the dark, you could see his bright blue eyes shine against the lights of the house and without thinking, you took a step forward, only to be stopped by the door opening.

Your heart left your chest as the very same man from your dream opened the door, a kind smile on his lips as you felt like a deer caught in headlights.

“A spot of tea, perhaps?” His voice was exactly as it had been in your dream, and it had jolted you back into reality as the wind picked up and you shivered. “And maybe an extra blanket?” He sounded amused as he stepped back to let you in, and you felt your skin tingle.

“So you were telling the truth in my dream?” He smiled.

“Lets get your coat off and get some tea for you, love.” You didn’t hesitate to follow, part of your mind concerned, but a larger portion thinking you’d follow him anywhere if he asked.

You both sat in silence whilst he was making the tea and you couldn’t help but stare at him. He was exactly the same in your dream. Part of you wondered if this was real.

“Are you really a cat?” Finally came the question as he set the tea in front  of you and you looked away in embarrassment when he laughed.

“Not the first question I expected, but I expected it.” His answer was encouraging as you glanced at him and watched as his entire body began to shrink and then suddenly Luke, the very black cat that had slept in your bed, sat on the table in front of you.

He shifted back and you felt your body slump as your eyes rolled backwards and he lunged forwards to keep you upright.

When you next woke, the scenery was different. You were in a lounge of sorts, the still hot tea, resting on the coffee table.

“That was a lot of you to take at once, I’ll admit. Are you feeling better now?” Luke crouched in front of you and you didn’t stop yourself as you reached out, your fingers touching his face.

His skin felt real and you watched as his eyes fell shut at your touch, a noise of content escaping him.

“Holy shit this is actually happening.” You finally whispered and he smiled, letting your hand drop from his face. 

That was when you noticed that you had a warm blanket thrown over you and the comfort that it offered was reminiscent of the nights that Luke the cat had spent curled up with you on the harder days.

“It’s a lot to take in, but I’ve got all the time in the world for you.” His smile was reassuring and you took in a deep breath.

“Reckon I can sleep with Luke the human?” You finally asked and he grinned.

“I think I can do that.” 

You could feel the couch shift underneath you and you realised that the back was moving so that it lay flat. Glancing at Luke in surprise, he looked unconcerned as pillows zoomed down the stairs, followed by a heavier quilt and then the couch cushions seemed to meld together and turn soft.

“Magic. Right. I’ll probably have more questions in the morning, but I certainly need more sleep.” You muttered and Luke laughed as he climbed under the covers with you, his arms pulling you against him and suddenly everything felt better, for just a moment.

“Everything that is mine is yours should you so wish it. My things, my home, my heart.” He whispered as you cuddled closer and although it felt like a lot, you also knew in your heart that you weren’t going to let him go.

“I’m happy with just the last one. The rest are bonuses.” You sleepily murmured before succumbing to your dreams once more. 

“And that’s why everything I have will be yours, love.” Luke whispered quietly before he too, followed off in the land of dreams.

When you woke the following morning, you knew in your heart that you weren’t to be parted from Luke. So when one day the house suddenly vanished from sight, those that grew up with the lore, silently toasted to the one who had won the sorcerers heart. 

-

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[renxamamiya]

Theatre of Mirrors - The Empress Theatre Part 2

This took me a month plus and 20k+ words LMAOOOOOOO. I’m trying a lot of things in this chapters, including writing a fight scene and taking feedback into account.

Special shout out to @rui-the-galax-angel and @digifangirl97 for helping me with this!!!!

Also please check out the fic on AO3 here!

I’ve also added notes on certain things at the bottom of the chapter, so please read them!

“Is that Goro-?”

“He’s alive!?”

Ren and Joker gasped as they both stared at the same monitor, stunned that the brown-haired detective was alive, disbelief in their expression as they mirrored each other: wide eyes, mouth hung agape, exhaling gentle yet purposed breaths. Both Ren and Joker blinked, Ren shifted in his seat to get a better look, Joker leaned on the console table as he looked closer at the projected image in front of them, seeing their Phantom Thieves going through their shared bewilderment. Neither of them made a sound.

“Is he a...?” Ren trailed off after a long silence, turning to ask his shadow who was observing the detective with careful eyes. Joker gently shook his head in response, an amused half-smile slowly appearing on his lips, barely making eye contact with Ren as he continued to stare at the screen in awe. Goro was here. The invitation he sent, the one he thought would be the only one which would fall on deaf ears, instead called his Crow back to him once more. Though he did not dare show it to Ren, he felt elated at the sight of his rival, alive, well, and scowling at his friends.

Yet this small joyous moment of his did not last. He felt himself suddenly getting tired as he spotted Ren’s eyes gleaming with newfound hope at the sight of Goro. Joker hid his sneer as he got up from his leaned position, standing up, gloved hands tucked back into his pockets. He hated that look of optimism in his other’s eyes, wanting to snuff it out right there and then, but he stopped himself. No; his plan would suffice enough to allow him to slowly crush that hope Ren held; and more, he reminded himself. He turned on his heel, walking out of the room. Ren noticed him leave; before he could utter a word his shadow had slammed the door shut to his prison, not bothering to lock the door as darkness all but swallowed him, the sounds of chorused chatter of the cognitive guests the only thing keeping him company.

Joker snapped his fingers as he continued his stride, an audible click echoed the room. Two shadows belonging to his twisted theatre erupted from the floor to join him as he reached for the door leading to the rest of the building pausing only for a moment to converse with the shadows followed obediently.

“Now, remember the script,” he ordered the both, impatience in his tone as he pulled the door open, wind rushing towards him, gently ruffling his messy hair and flapping his tailed coat. He turned to look over his shoulder, a golden eye glinting murderously at them as he wore a serious expression, “This needs to go perfectly. If you fail, I’ll make sure to kill you as painfully as possible, you understand?”

“Yes, boss.” they both replied in unison. Joker’s stern expression melted at their reply, now grinning wildly with anticipation, his heart starting to beat rapidly with a newfound thrill, blossoming into a crescendo, feeling the tips of his fingers beating with anticipation as he found himself drowning from the thumping of his own excitement. He turned to look down the bland hallway before him, eyes narrowing, vision sharp as he inhaled a deep, deep breath. On exhale he promptly stepped forwards, another he broke into a run, focusing only towards him, his vision tunnelling as he heard his lackey’s footsteps behind him.

“It’s showtime!” he thought to himself, laughing out loud with thrill as his performance commenced.

---

"Akechi-senpai, you're alive!"

Goro heard Sumire before he saw her, the redheaded gymnast wrapping her arms around him, pulling him into a sudden, affectionate hug. He squirmed instinctively in her embrace, not used to displays of affection, and not used to ones that involve touch.

“Yoshizawa.” he growled, hoping that his unamused tone would give her the hint he needed to attain freedom from her grip, yet she did not loosen her grip around him, “Get. Off.”

“Oh, sorry,” Sumire mutters as she lets Goro go, hiding her hands behind her back as she looks away from him. Her face flushed slightly red, obviously embarrassed by the impulsive hug she had given him.

“I’m so sorry, Akechi-senpai.” she apologizes, moving her hands to her side as she gave him a formal bow, “I’m so sorry. I was just happy to see you.”

“Yo Akechi, is that really you?” Ryuji inquired, looking at him sceptically as he places his hands casually on his hips, “Or are you just a cognition?”

“I can assure you that I’m no such thing.” Akechi said, closing his eyes as his face contorted to an expression of great offense, “To think of me being here as nothing more than a figment of Amamiya’s cognition...”

“If you’re not cognition, then why are you here?” Ann said, her and Futaba now with the rest of the group, staring at him suspiciously, “Are you trying to kill Ren again?”

“More importantly, if you are indeed alive, then what have you been doing all this time?” Yusuke inquires, stepping towards the former detective, Goro looking at them, unamused.

“I do not have to answer the latter question, nor do I want to.” Goro said, clearly annoyed by Yusuke’s prying question, “As for answering Takamaki’s question: I’m simply here for curiosity’s sake.”

“You mean you have the app as well?” Makoto asks. Goro’s head snaps towards her, his eyes widening in astonishment, “With the strange notification, correct?”

“So, you’ve gotten it too?” Goro queried rhetorically, yet all of them answered with a single nod. He pursed his lips, furrowing his brows in thought as he looked down at the carpeted floor, “It makes sense for you all to be here. But why-”

“Hey, where’s Mona?” Futaba whispered, poking her head from behind the rest of the group as Goro continued to mutter to himself, “I don’t see him anywhere.”

“Mona?” Haru said, perplexed by Futaba’s question, yet a second later she realised that the feline was nowhere within the group, “Wait, has anyone seen Morgana? I thought he was with us?”

“I dunno, I was with Futaba the whole time.” Ann said, looking at both the faux blonde and the fluffy-haired girl, “I mean, I thought he was with you guys. You did go up before us after all.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t see him, he must have run off somewhere.” Ryuji sighed, reflexively kicking the floor in frustration and disappointment, “That cat’s always runnin’ off somewhere. I guess we should find him before he runs into trouble again.”

"I think I saw Morgana-senpai run that way." Sumire said, pointing to where the cognitions were congregating, no doubt to head to the numerous auditoriums that were located within the Palace, "I didn’t see clearly though, he ran by me so fast."

"It's as good of a lead as any," Makoto said, ignoring Ryuji's string of curses towards their missing teammate. She walked a couple of steps, all the other thieves following her casually, but noticed Goro still in contemplative thought, one his hands cupped his chin while another held his phone.

"Akechi, aren't you coming with us?"

Goro looked up, red eyes gazing into her own.

"Me?"

"Yeah, him?" Ryuji asked in earnest, which resulted in him getting elbowed sharply in the chest by Ann, "Hey, what was that for!?"

“You can’t say stuff like that in front of people!” Ann exclaimed, annoyed by Ryuji’s boldness towards Goro, eyebrows crossed in an angry expression, “Besides, we have no idea what’s in this place. I don’t like the idea too, but we have strength in numbers, and we can keep an eye on him if he tries to do something to Ren.”

“Thank you, Takamaki, but I’ll be fine on my own.” Goro said, resisting the urge to grimace at Ryuji and Ann’s words (though he was not surprised in the slightest in the fact that they did not trust him), “I’ve had more than enough experience in combat to take care of myself. That, and we’re obviously not considered as threats. I doubt that whatever’s happening to your leader, will in turn put any of us in immediate danger.”

“Still, it’s still an awful thought for you to get left behind.” Haru said, although she did not sound too eager with the prospect of Goro coming along to find their furry friend, “Even if it’s you...”

“As I said-”

“Please, Goro-senpai?” Sumire pleads, giving Goro the biggest puppy-eyes she could muster as he turned to look at her, her bottom lip quivering, trying to evoke sympathy from within the detective, “Please? We haven’t seen you for a long time, and I know you really want to come with us...”

Goro looks at Sumire, his expression firm and unreadable, his gaze piercing, yet the girl continues to pout. The rest of the group looked at each other, not knowing how to break the tension between the two of them, waiting for either Sumire to succeed in her attempt to convince Goro, or for Goro to win in his efforts to further distance himself from the group.

The victor was decided when Goro broke his gaze, sighing deeply in defeat while Sumire smiled and cheered in triumph.

“Thank you, senpai!” Sumire grins, going in for another hug, only to be stopped by Goro’s hesitant scowl.

“I’m doing this only for you, Yoshizawa.” Goro muttered under his breath, though he can’t help but smile a bit when he saw her growth in confidence over the last year and a half. He turned to look at Makoto, “Lead the way, Queen.”

“With pleasure.” Makoto huffed, trying not to get worked up by his use of her codename, seemingly brushing it off as she resumed her pace towards the inner area of the foyer.

It did not take the group long for them to spot Morgana. He stood still as cognitions passed by, some of them muttering happily as they noticed the feline gazing upon something. A few steps more passed the crowd of cognitive people did they find what he was looking at.

“Is that?” Ann gasps, looking upon the fountain statue of Joker. The glint of the gold that accented its mask and buttons and eyes sent a shiver down her spine, its grin, smug and sinister, unsettled her, and she dare not make eye contact with the gaudy decoration. The others shared her uncomfortable reaction, a loss for words as to why such a decoration would be displayed all to see. They knew Ren, knew how he acted, knew the confidence he held in himself, yet did not associate him with the apparent narcissism they were currently gazing upon.

Morgana’s ears twitched, sensing the others as they approached behind him, turning to greet them with a sombre expression as he stood in front of the fountain.

“I think this was where Ren was caught.” Morgana informed the group, yet no one in the group found any comfort with this information, “I saw some commotion around here until I got thrown out by those shadows.”

“Where could they have taken him?” Haru asks, yet she knew Morgana’s answer, “Could he possibly be somewhere deeper in the Palace?”

“He has to be.” Morgana said, turning to look up towards the top of the twin stairwells, “I don’t know how to explain it, but I can feel him somewhere up there, calling for us.”

“Futaba, can you check if that’s the case?” Makoto asks the girl. Futaba snaps back into attention, the fountain statue previously lulling her into a trance. She looks at Makoto with a dazed expression, blinking several times as she tries to grasp what she had said to her.

“Sorry? I didn’t catch that, Queen.” she confesses, Makoto sighs.

“Can you confirm that Ren’s somewhere in his Palace?” Makoto again asks her, though she could not help but send a sympathetic expression towards the girl. The man that had helped her free herself from the shackles of her distortions was now trapped from his own, and admittedly, none of the thieves have yet fully come to terms with the formation of Ren’s Palace.

“Oh yeah, why didn’t I think about that,” Futaba said, abruptly squatting down as she puts her laptop on the carpeted floor. She opened it, her device flicking to life, and started to type rapidly on it, focused on her task, “It’s gonna take a while for me to find him.” she informed the rest of the group, raising her voice slightly to be heard above the chatter of the cognitions around her, “Though I can tap into the Palace to get a look at the place, I can’t exactly pinpoint him with ease without my Persona.”

“That’s alright.” Makoto said, “We can work on finding him once we get a rough idea as to where he’s located.”

“Hey Yusuke, you’ve been really quiet since we’ve entered the Palace.” Haru said, looking at the blue-haired artist with concern "Are you okay?"

"Hm? Oh. I am, thank you for your concern, Haru." Yusuke smiles, "I'm sorry if I caused any worry, I was simply marvelling the architecture of the Palace. It's simply beautiful"

"But isn't that weird? I mean this is Ren's Palace after all." she said with concern, a hand pulling back a strand of her hair as she continued, "I mean, it's nice here but, I don't really see how it could be considered 'beautiful'."

"That's okay, I understand completely that finding an aspect of Ren's distortions 'beautiful' is less than savoury; however, I do marvel at the detailing of the architecture especially. It certainly has a lot of Western influences. Definitely matches his more Western interpretation of a rebel."

"Like the 'Gentlemen Thief' persona huh?" Haru mutters, "That makes sense. After all, Arsene does wear a top hat."

"Precisely." Yusuke said, "Details like that do put a smile on my face."

"Well, I guess you can say-"

The screams of cognitions from the floor above interrupts their conversation, all the thieves snapping their heads to see the guests fleeing from above, down the twin stairs in a desperate panic in order to run from an unseen danger. Blue flames suddenly erupted from each of the members, exposed skin and fabric alike replaced with their iconic thief outfits, another flash across their eyes placed their masks as their forgotten powers and Personas electrified their veins.

“Shit!” Ryuji exclaimed in surprise at the sudden eruption, tightly gripping his mallet, already anticipating a fight. The rest of the thieves sans Goro immediately sprung into a fighting stance, readying their weapons as they grouped together, prepared for whatever was causing the commotion upstairs. The only not in the front lines was Futaba, who was hoisted to safety by her Persona Al Azif, hovering above the group as she prepared to support them.

“It seems we were finally acknowledged,” Goro grumbles, yet he could not help but smirk at the idea of taking down the enemy approaching them. He unsheathed the serrated sword he used while in the Metaverse from his side, feeling the familiar echo of Hereward in his mind as the mask he adorned gleamed slickly in the light, “Finally. I was getting on edge with how   the atmosphere was.”

“Oracle, what are you seeing?” Makoto asked the girl, already springing quite comfortably into the lead role as Futaba typed rapidly across the different screens surrounding her from within her Persona, “Are there any dangerous shadows heading in our way?”

“Two of them. They’re pretty strong, but nothing we can’t handle.” Futaba informs Makoto, still tying away across her screens, her eyes flickering rapidly from one window to another, “They seem to be chasing something. Another shadow. A powerful one at that!”

“Why would they be chasing one of their own?” Yusuke muses as he readies his katana, his gloved hand resting delicately on the decorative hilt, “Unless-”

Two gunshots rang in the air, followed by the screams of the shadows, a blur of black and red suddenly appearing, sliding down rapidly from the polished stair rails while being pursued by two shadow guards, their head turned back as to keep an eye on their pursuers, yet they could see a smirk on their lips. Before the Phantom Thieves could realise who, the shadows were chasing, the figure turned towards them.

The gold and black mask. The red waistcoat. It was Ren’s shadow. He looked just like the fountain statue nestled between the twin stairs of the foyer. He landed in front of them with practised, familiar poise, turning around towards the shadows, gritting his teeth as he readied a knife the thieves found familiar.

“There’s the fugitive!” one of the shadow’s yelled, pointing to the golden-eyed thief as another indistinguishable shadow joined its side, “Help me snag him! The boss’ll have our heads if we keep lettin’ him run free around this place.”

“Ren-”

“Call me Joker, Queen.” he interrupts Makoto, turning back his head to give her a signature wink before turning back towards his assailants, the two shedding their suits to reveal a Dionysus, Titania and Oberon, all ready to attack, “I know you all have questions right now. I’ll explain later, but first you have to help me with taking these guys out.”

Makoto nods at Joker, agreeing with his commands as she readies her mask. The shadows jumped towards Joker, the Dionysus charging with electricity, static climbing across his multicoloured arm.

“Oh no, you don’t!” Morgana shouts, lunging forward towards the shadow as he summons his Persona, “It’s payback time! Diego, Miracle Rush!”

The Persona erupts from behind the cat, a strong, dashing, masked man with a comically tall moustache and long black cape appeared surrounded by blue flames. A single swish of his sword was enough to summon multiple golden boxing gloves supported by springs that aimed at the shadows. They reeled in back, and then suddenly sprang into action, punching the Dionysus square in the jaw and knocking it off its feet, but unfortunately missing the other two shadows in its company.

“Nice shot, Mona.” Ryuji compliments the cat as he rushes forward, assisting the feline with his enemy, readying the large mallet on his side, “But you missed the other two, might want to work on your aim.”

“I’m rusty-!” Morgana squeaks, looking at his friend with an offended expression as Ryuji brought the mallet down on the shadow, sending it straight down onto the floor, “What about you huh, you’re gonna just let the shadow get up?”

“Huh, you got a point.” Ryuji said, and went on to summon his Persona, dramatically gripping his hand onto his metallic mask, “Alright, William! Give this guy a hand. A God’s Hand to be exact!”

As soon as he did so the mask burst dramatically into the same blue flames, licking harmlessly on Ryuji’s face, rising to conjure a figure beside him. His Persona, dressed in a black and white hood, a skeletal face with its eyes behind red goggles rode atop a yacht triumphantly, conjured a fist out of nowhere, propelled by what looked like a rocket, dancing circles above its target’s head before slamming right down on top of it, injuring the shadow further.

“Skull, that was terrible.” Morgana sighs, frowning at his friend’s pun as he readies his cutlass to strike the incapacitated shadow

“Aww don’t be such a moaner, Mona.” Ryuji chuckles, Morgana ignoring the blonde as he strikes the shadow, “I’m just havin’ fun!”

“Skull, I know these shadows are nothing but total squishies, but you still gotta be careful.” Futaba buzzes through their ears, Al Azif hovering away a safe distance from the battlefield, “We can make terrible puns AFTER we’ve dealt with these shadows.”

“Hey, my puns are not-”

He did not see Morgana dodge Dionysus's attack, only hearing the electricity from its Ziodyne attack before it was too late. His head turned at the sound of the wild crackle of electricity heading towards him. His eyes widened as the bolt connected, a section of the bolt diverged and struck the carpeted floor, causing him to be engulfed into a cloud of dust and smoke.

“Skull!” both Futaba and Morgana exclaimed, calling out for their friend in a panic. Morgana summons his Persona, commanding Diego to blow away the cloud of smoke that obstructed their view of Ryuji with a quick Garudyne, only to find him completely unharmed.

“I’m okay!” Ryuji yells out, waving out to them to attract their attention, “Barely even touched me, you on the other hand.” he said as he almost sneered towards Morgana.

“Hey guys, you can fight all you want later, right now you’ve got a shadow to toast.” Futaba hisses at the two, reminding them of their situation as Dionysus charges for another attack, “Another Ziodyne coming towards your six!”

Both Ryuji and Morgana exchange brief sour expressions towards one another, before shifting their focus towards the enemy before them. --- The Oberon thrusts its sword forward towards Joker, the boy sidestepping each time it swipes towards him, golden eyes carefully observing his opponent as another swipe of the shadow’s sword barely misses him. Makoto readies into position, resting her hand on her mask as she instinctively climbs on the Persona that appeared beneath her.

“Agnes, hit it with an Atomic Flare!” she said to her Persona, and Agnes complied, a ball of blue aura appeared in front of the attacking shadow, growing before independently detonating in the shadow’s face. However, the Oberon dodged it with ease, escaping the otherwise effective attack.

“Dammit!” she whispered harshly under her breath as Ann went in to strike the Oberon, uncoiling her whip as she swung it, a sharp ‘thwack’ echoed as she struck the Oberon on the face.

“How dare you strike me!” the shadow hissed, swinging its sword towards her only to be stopped by Joker’s dagger. The weapons clashed. And they clashed again, Joker slowly driving the attacking shadow back as Makoto readies another attack.

“Agnes, Atomic Flare!” Makoto commanded her Persona again, the same blue orb appearing to engulf the Oberon, but the attack yet again missed as the Oberon evaded it.

“Queen, got any ideas to stop this shadow from moving so much?” Ann hisses as she ducks a swipe from Oberon’s sword, “We could really use some help right now!”

“Maybe slowing it down would help?” Joker said out loud before parrying multiple slashes of the shadow’s sword with his gun and knife, “I don’t have any ice skills on me. Maybe we should call over-”

“We don’t need Fox. I have an idea, just follow what I say!” Makoto instructed her teammates, Joker and Ann both nodded at her with acknowledgement as they continued to dodge the wild attacks of the shadow.

“Joker, aim your shots at its wings!” Makoto instructed Joker. He raised his gun and pulled the trigger.

“Panther, get ready to cast Agidyne on the Oberon!” Makoto yells towards Ann, who nodded in acknowledgement, her gloved hand resting on her mask as she readies herself.

A shot from Joker’s gun rang out, and another, and another. two of the three bullets managing to tear through the thin membrane of the shadow’s left wing, the shadow howling in pain. Joker aimed carefully; a single bullet left in the magazine of his gun. He looked down at the sight of his pistol. He aimed at the Oberon, who was hovering in the air, wobbling back and forth in pain from its injury. He squeezed the trigger.

Bang!

The last bullet tore through the shadow’s wing. The Oberon cried in pain as it floated down, its injuries too great to keep itself airborne.

“Now Panther!” Makoto shouted. With a quick shout of her Persona’s name, Ann summons Célestine behind her, the avatar of her heart standing tall, nonchalantly blowing a piece of gum as the overhead light reflects from her glasses.

“Agidyne!” Ann ordered her Persona, and Célestine lifted her hand towards the crippled shadow. Heat gathered beneath it, and before it could react, a tower of fire erupted from the fire, consuming the shadow, leaving it with embers still singeing its skin.

---

“Ella, use Kougaon!” Sumire said to the bride like Persona behind her, Ella responded by summoning a pillar of white light to strike Titania, the shadow grunting in pain as she took the attack. Yusuke followed up with a swipe from his sword, yet the fairy-like shadow managed to dodge him with ease.

“Psiodyne!” Haru shouted, her Persona, Lucy, towered behind her, one hand holding an elegant looking briefcase while another one held its masquerade like glasses in front of where its face would be, summoned forward pink swirling circles with colours accenting them towards the shadow. Titania managed to evade her attack, retaliating with its own spell as it casts Freidyne.

“Noir, watch out!”  Sumire shouted after her, Haru trying her best to escape from the Nuclear-based elemental attack, yet the blue ball persistently followed wherever she went. It was Yusuke who had saved her, pushing her out of the way just as the nuclear ball exploded, taking the brunt of the attack. He grunted audibly, Haru’s eyes widening in alarm.

“Yusuke are you okay?” she asked the artist. Yusuke responded with a smile, standing from his previously hunched position.

“I’m fine,” he reassured her, “the damage I received was less than anticipated.”

“But you still took damage, are you sure you’re-”

“We haven’t the time to worry about injuries!” Goro hissed at the both as he spots the hands of the Titania glow green. He sprints forward, his sword held by his left hand as his right clasps his mask. He cries out wildly for Hereward, and the black, bow-wielding Persona erupted behind him, an arrow pulled back as it readies for Goro’s command.

“Hereward, Laevateinn!” he commanded his Persona, Hereward complying as it lets go of the strung arrow. A sword descended onto the Titania, a lucky strike by Goro as it tumbled down onto the ground, its healing spell interrupted.

“Regroup, everyone!” Futaba instructed the Phantom Thieves, all of them listening to their navigator as they jumped back into a defensive position, their various ranged weapons all pointed towards the downed shadows.

“W-wait!” The Oberon shrieks as the embers on its body continue to injure it, “Please, don’t kill us!”

“Yes, please, we were just following orders!” Titania said, whimpering on the floor, her hands curled on the carpeted floor.

“Yeah right!” Ryuji said, cocking the barrel of his shotgun, aiming his sights towards the wounded fairy, “Orders from who? Certainly not our friend Joker here, you practically attacked him!”

“Well… He-”

“Alright, I’ve had enough of them.” Morgana said, clearly annoyed by the situation as he held his slingshot ready, “Everyone, it’s All-Out Attack time!”

Before the shadows could utter another word all the thieves pounced towards them, weapons out and ready. Each thief took turns slashing at the enemies, a flurry of attacks as the sound of weapons echoed throughout the hall. Joker dealt the last swipe, a clean cut through the three of the shadows, before he flipped backwards, away from them.

A second passed, and soon a black ooze erupted from each of the three shadows before their bodies evaporated into thin air.

Joker scanned the rest of the foyer, readying his weapon as the others put away theirs, his back towards them, senses still alert as adrenaline still flowed through his veins. Al Azif descends slightly down towards the floor before allowing Futaba to gracefully float down to join the rest of her friends before dissipating, blue flames gently caressed her face as her Persona became her mask. They stared at Joker, watching him anticipate yet another attack. No additional shadows came, and he stood up, his shoulders relaxing, and he tucked away his weapons before he turned to face them, golden eyes staring at them. He smiles gently at them.

“Hello, everyone.” he greets.

“Ren… is that-”

“Ren!” Morgana cried out, interrupting Ann as he rushed towards him, arms wide to embrace him with open arms. Before the masked thief could properly react to Morgana, the bipedal feline jumped, and Joker caught him instinctively.

“Ren! Ren, I was soooooo worried!” Morgana said as he hugged Joker, burying his face affectionately in his chest. Joker returned Morgana’s hug, petting the feline with his free hand as Morgana purred audibly, “I’m sorry for interrupting you Lady Ann!” he continued to shout, trying to sound apologetic despite his joyful tone conveying otherwise, “But I’m so glad you’re okay!”

“But isn’t that senpai’s shadow?” Sumire points out, her expression guilty as she feels as though her observation had spoiled the moment between the two, “I’m sorry for being so rude, but we shouldn’t trust him-”

“Yoshizawa’s right.” Goro agrees with her, eyeing Joker carefully beneath the red filters of his mask, “Like it or not this is not the Amamiya you know and love, but an ugly, distorted version of him.”

“Am I really that-” Joker started, reflexively responding to the comment with an air of jest, yet when his shining, golden eyes met Goro’s hauntingly red ones he stopped himself, mouth still open, hanging agape. Silence fell between the two, Goro looking at Joker closely, his face expressionless, eyes narrowed in contemplation and suspicion as Joker looked at him with stunned disbelief.

“Crow, you’re-”

“Alive? Yes, I am.” Goro said, not taking his eyes off the shadow, “And you’re a shadow. Now, tell us where Ren is so we can get on our way, thank you.”

“He’s still Ren, even if he’s his shadow.” Ann huffs, her tone of voice clearly irritated by Goro’s total rejection of Joker, walking up to the shadow’s side, “Besides. Him helping us still means that Ren’s not only here, but his shadow can help us rescue him, right?”

“Yes, you’re right, Panther,” Joker nods, “I’ll be more than happy to help, and please, call me Joker.”

“Why? Do you prefer to be called that? I’m so sorry if I-”

“It’s okay, Panther.” he smiles reassuringly, touched by Ann’s kindness in accommodating his request so readily, “And yes. Though I am his shadow and should share his name, I am more comfortable with using Joker.”

“Note taken, now come here, Joker!” she exclaimed, running to join in with Morgana’s hug, wrapping her arms around his neck in affection, “Even if you’re Ren’s shadow, we’re still so glad to see you!”

“Yeah, we were so worried when we saw you had a Palace,” Ryuji said, walking to rest a comforting hand on Joker’s shoulder, “So it’s good to see you here and well buddy, and we’ll deffo help in stealing your treasure and easing your distorted heart.”

“And I’m glad to see you, Skull.” Joker smiles at his long-time friend, “If there’s anyone who can help me get rid of the distortions of my heart, it’ll be you.”

“I am happy to be here.” Yusuke smiles, walking up to stand next to Joker, the close proximity he stood next to his friend’s shadow enough to ease his heart, “Though it is unfortunate that you… our friend… have a Palace, we are honoured to be here if only to untangle the distortions that have brought this theatre in the first place.”

“And it’s nice to see you too, Fox.” Joker laughed, clearly amused by how flowery Yusuke’s language was.

“Joker!” Futaba yells, running towards him and wrapping her arms around his torso from his side, “Joker you’re okay! You’re really okay!”

“Well, ‘okay’ is putting Joker’s situation quite mildly,” Haru laughs as she joins the thieves in greeting their leader’s doppelganger, “But I have to agree with everyone, seeing you here with us, even if this is your Palace. ”

“Does the idea of me having a Palace really make you uncomfortable, Haru?” Joker asks her, eyebrows knitted as he looks at her with concern, “You can always leave if you’d like, Noir. I won’t judge you; it must be hard considering...”

“Yes, it does.” Haru answers for him, yet the spark of resolve she had in her eyes did not flicker as she looked in his golden ones, “But I promised only the others, but also myself, to be strong for you, and to help you in any way I can in getting rid of your distortions.”

Joker smiled at her, touched by her kind words.

“Thank you, Noir, I’ll be counting on you then.”

“She’s not the only one you can count on.” Makoto said, as she walked towards him, “I don’t think it’s far-fetched to assume that all of us here are more than willing to lend you their assistance should you need it, Joker. We are here to help heal your distorted heart, after all.”

“But what if I just want a kiss from my advisor.” Joker cooed at her. A blush slightly reddened Makoto’s face as she coughed, tucking a stray hair behind her ear as she cleared her throat.

“I’m sure, I can accommodate that request of yours,” she said confidently, yet the blush on her cheeks grew a deeper red. She leaned in, gently caressing his free shoulder, and gave him a peck on the cheek, Joker grinning delightfully as his golden eyes twinkled brightly with joy.

“A peck on the cheek is all I get?” he said, mockingly pouting at her, “But I thought you were here to ease my distorted heart.”

“We can kiss more when we steal your treasure; besides, the others are...” Makoto trails off, the mention of the other thieves reddens her face more in embarrassment, Joker giving her a toothy smile, only deepening the flush on her face.

“Okay, if you insist, my Queen. I’ll hold you to that promise.”

Someone audibly clears their throat. Joker looks past the group of friends that surrounded him to see Sumire standing in the middle of the foyer, her body tense, her legs straight, the girl grabbing her arms as she looks down on the floor with a saddened expression. He lightly shook his shoulders, his friends stepped away from him, Joker put down Morgana, and he walked towards her.

He stopped in front of her, not speaking a word, looking at her sympathetically yet allowed Sumire to converse with him when she was willing to.

“I’m sorry, for doubting you, Senpai.” she apologised, stepping back from her previous spot as she gave him a formal bow.

“Violet, you have nothing to be sorry about.” Joker smiles at her, slightly amused by her formality towards him, “In all honesty, you all have the excuse of being wary of me. Most of the shadows we’ve encountered were pretty hostile after all.”

“Like mine.” Futaba mutters to herself.

“But there are kind shadows, right? Shadows who just want help from us to steal their treasure, to return to normal. They exist, do they?”

“Yes.” Joker laughs, and Sumire couldn’t help but smile herself.

“Then…” she trails off, before throwing herself towards Joker, arms wide, Joker catching her with ease as she hugged him with all her strength.

“Violet, you’re hurting me.” Joker wheezed as Sumire squeezed her arms around him, and Sumire freed him from her embrace, apologising profusely.

“Oh, by the way,” Futaba said to the group, “While you guys were fighting, I picked up a signal that’s unusual to what you normally find in the Metaverse. I think it���s Ren.”

“You found where Ren’s being held?” Haru inquired the navigator, Futaba, shaking her head.

“Probably.” Futaba said, a frown on her face, pulling out a general map of the Palace to the rest of the group, a green blip pulsating on what looked to be the top of the cognitive building, “This is the signal that I found. It’s unusual for sure, the signal unlike any shadow or cognition we’ve ever encountered, and certainly not the treasure-”

“Oh right, the treasure!” Ryuji exclaims, interrupting Futaba, who reacted with an annoyed expression. “You got anything about the treasure, Futaba?”

“Remember, codenames, Skull.”  Futaba warned her teammate, “And as for the treasure....”

She trails off. The others stared at her, waiting for her to continue.

“Oracle?” Makoto said, walking slowly towards her, “Oracle, you okay?”

“...Um…”

“There’s no treasure, is there?” Goro interrupted. All the thieves snap their heads to look at him, shock and disbelief on their faces except for Futaba, Joker and Goro, “At least, the treasure has yet not materialised.”

“Wait, no treasure, are you crazy!?” Ann stammered, clearly uncomfortable and confused by this revelation.

“Yeah, every Palace we’ve encountered has a treasure!” Ryuji said hysterically, “What do you mean this Palace ‘doesn’t have a treasure’!?”

“I……. I…...I….”

“...I think we should discuss this somewhere else.” Joker informed the others, stepping in to protect Futaba from the bewildered Phantom Thieves, “I know a safe place. Follow me.”

---

The shadow led his friends up to the above floor via one of the twin stairs, cognitive guests staring at them as they followed Joker up, whispering amongst each other with excitement and curiosity, yet Joker paid them no mind as the rest of the thieves could only try to ignore their presence.

They arrived on the first floor, the foyer one decorated differently compared to the entrance below. Soft lilac replaced the colour red on the carpets and curtains, pristine, white marble replaced where gold would be, shapes of different flora carved in the stone, accented by gold paint which glittered under the bright light from the chandeliers above. There stood four doors around the foyer that lead to what the thieves assumed to be separate auditoriums: two of them closed with golden number plaques next to them; the third one, sealed behind two tall doors, had the words ‘The Empress Theatre’ titled atop of them.

Joker gestured to a large booth, one of many that occupied the room along the walls, a white curtain made of linen used to give the privacy the thieves needed to discuss their plans, hiding them from curious eyes.

“After you.” he said, smiling as he held the curtain open. Futaba was the first one to go in, diving onto the seat before sliding inwards to allow Haru to follow her in. One by one they went into the booth, Morgana having to be picked up by Ann, not tall enough to reach for the seat, and sat on her lap as his head rested just above the small table in front of them.

“I’d rather not.” Goro said, the only still standing other than Joker, crossing his arms as he looked towards the booth with scorn.

“Why not?” Joker asks, tilting his head as he looks at the reluctant detective, “Don’t you trust me, Goro?”

“Do not call me that.” Goro snapped, and Joker flinched visibly, “And to answer your question: I don’t. I don’t trust you at all.”

“Akechi-senpai, it’s okay.” Sumire said, immediately going into Joker’s defence as she pokes her head out from where she was sitting, “He helped us, remember? I’m sure Joker-senpai would never hurt us. I mean… I trust him, and I think everyone does as well, and they have way more experience than I do.”

“Yeah, Akechi,” Ryuji said, also coming to Joker’s defence, “And this is Ren we’re talking about. I mean, sure it’s his shadow but isn’t like the shadow the something true self or something?”

The others nodded in agreement, Goro looking away, a cross expression on his face. There was a small amount of movement that caught the corner of his eye, and he looked up to see Joker himself sliding into the booth to join his friends.

“You can have the end spot if it makes you comfortable.” Joker smiled at Goro, and while he did not want to admit it, he was feeling slightly fatigued from the earlier fight. He took a moment of hesitation, staring at the spot next to Joker, and sighed before he complied with the shadow’s request.

“Now that we’re all here,” Makoto said, her eyes scanning the group as she spoke, “We need to discuss-”

“Can someone please pull the curtain,” Morgana said, an expression of disappointment on his face, “We’re not exactly in a safe room you know, have you guys forgotten everything I’ve taught you!?”

“I can do it if only I wasn’t stuck here.” Yusuke offered, gesturing to both Haru and Ryuji of either side of him. The thieves lightly bickered amongst each other; one person would offer to close the curtain if the other person moved, which would cause the other person to gesture to the person next to them. This cycle, absurd and tedious as it was, repeated until all eyes landed on Goro.

“Hm, you’re asking me to close the curtain?” Goro said, not bothering to hide his unamused expression towards the Phantom Thieves.

“Well Crow, you’re the only one who can actually get out of here.” Futaba points out, gesturing to the column piece that obstructed her path to freedom, “And everyone can’t exactly move out easily as well. You gotta do it bird brain.”

“Bird brain?!” Goro scoffs in both surprise and offence. He growled in anger, trying very hard not to retaliate at the girl sitting across him. He sighed, muttering ‘fine’ as he slid out of his seat, reaching for the curtain and gently pulling it across until it hid the group from view before sitting back down again.

“Okay… so now that’s out of the way, we need to discuss several things that are imperative to ensure this infiltration is successful,” Makoto said, addressing the group around her, “First of, we need to discuss who will lead the infiltration, seeing as Ren isn’t here.”

She turns to look at Joker.

“Can you lead us?” Makoto asks, Joker replies by shaking his head.

“I don’t think that’s appropriate,” he admits, Makoto giving him a confused look, “I’m a shadow. The shadow of Ren. While I do know the ins and outs of the Palace, I fear that if I were to lead you it’ll compromise the mission in some way. In addition, I think it’s best for you guys if you could plan strategies somewhere out of the Metaverse.” “That is true.” Makoto nods, “But if you’re not going to lead us then, who will?”

Joker simply smiles at Makoto. Her eyes widened, the deep blush on her cheeks from earlier flushed her cheeks.

“Y-you want me to lead?!” she stammers, Joker nodding in response, and Makoto swore she would have fainted right there and then.

“Of course.” Joker said, “Everyone trusts you, and you yourself have the necessary leadership skills. There’s no one who I trust more.”

Makoto laughs, Morgana exclaims with a ‘hey!’ at Joker as Ryuji rolls his eyes at what he’s witnessing before him.

“Geeze get a room you guys.” he groaned, yet there was no malice in his tone as Ann and Sumire snicker at his comment.

“If Makoto’s our leader, then it would be appropriate to elect ourselves someone to replace her in the advisory role.” Haru said, “I was thinking about Mona being our advisor since he’s more experienced than all of us when it comes to Metaverse stuff.”

“Well, I am knowledgeable with the Metaverse itself.” Morgana said smugly, crossing his arms as he holds his head out proudly, “And I did teach you all how to be the best thieves possible. Sure, I’ll gladly take on the advisory role.”

Goro rolled his eyes in annoyance, Joker noticed him do so, and he smiled in amusement.

“Great, now that’s out of the way, we need to now discuss our course of action in regard to our infiltration: how we will conduct it, where Ren is, why there is no treasure being detected, and if it does apply, when we need to invoke a change of heart.”

She turned to look at Joker, the shadow nodded in acknowledgement.

“As you all know, Ren’s been kidnapped by the shadows of this place.” Joker said, his gaze cast to everyone except Goro who sat right next to him, “He’s being held in the uppermost auditorium of the Palace: The Fool’s Theatre.”

“The Fool’s Theatre? I don’t like the sound of that.” Ann mumbled under her breath, a look of concern on her face.

“Why is it called the Fool’s Theatre?” Sumire queried Joker, her eyes glittering in perplexity. Joker shrugged; his expression confessed uncertainty.

“I don’t know.” he said, “But what I do know he’s kept there. I honestly think they caught him, thinking they were me. Apparently, I’m a nuisance in my own Palace, which is quite absurd if you think about it.”

“Then we should go there now.” Ryuji said, “You know, bust him out and stuff if it’s just at the top floor, no problem!”

“I’m afraid it’s not that easy.” Joker frowned at the blonde, wincing as he saw Ryuji’s enthusiasm falter a bit, “The doors to the auditorium itself are locked by special keys which are held by what they called the ‘Lead Actors’ that reside in special auditoriums. I would have entered the Fool’s Theatre myself, but it’s the only room which I can't even access.”

“And who are these, ‘Lead Actors’?” Goro asked the shadow, “What do they look like? And where are they located?”

“I… haven’t seen any of them, so I don’t even know what they look like.” Joker confessed to the group hesitantly, “But I’ve heard they reside in the auditoriums like that one-”

He gestures to the Empress Theatre on the floor.

“-and they seem to only open their doors to patrons who meet two special conditions.”

“How do you know this?”

Joker turns to Goro and smiles at him.

“Goro, I’m a thief, sneaking about and eavesdropping is what I do best!” he said. Goro only narrows his eyes slightly in response.

“And what are the two conditions, exactly?” Makoto inquired.

“The first condition-” he started as he turned to Makoto, “-is to watch the performances on each of the floors. For example, I heard that in order to gain permission to even get within the Empress Theatre, you must present a ticket with punch holes showing you’ve watched the two performances located within numbered halls.”

“Well, that’s easy enough,” Ryuji said, leaning back in his seat and crossing his legs, Makoto ignoring them as Joker continued his explanation.

“The second condition is to enter the auditorium with the person who matches the Lead Actor.”

“Matches the lead actor?” Ann said, looking at Joker with confusion, “What does that even mean? And how are we gonna get in if we’ve never seen the actor before?”

“I suggest we concentrate on the theatre watching first,” Morgana said, crossing his arms, easily slipping into the advisory role he’s been assigned. He turned to Joker, “Joker, do you have any idea how to get these tickets to access the halls?”

“Actually, I have them here already,” Joker said, pulling several golden tickets from his sleeve, the slips of admission shimmering beautifully form the light above. He put them down, pushing them towards the middle of the table in order to allow everyone to take their own slip of the key they need to help them unlock their friend’s heart, “I… stole them from the counter, just in case you guys would ever come to...”

His face flinches for a moment, an expression of pain flashed before the rest of the group. He smiled at all of them, yet sadness was still reflected in his golden eyes.

“Never mind, all that matters is that you’re all here.” he smiles, “Oh, and I almost forgot-”

He took a booklet out of his coat.

“-A program that contains the map to the Palace.” he elaborates, “It should tell you everything about the building, and should give you a clue on how to navigate it.”

He placed the program alongside the tickets, Yusuke snatching it up before anyone who could look despite the protest of an annoyed Futaba who hissed him with insults as well as calling him ‘Inari’. Makoto shakes her head, yet the rest of the girls couldn’t help but giggle at Yusuke’s eagerness to examine the peculiar booklet, the boys of the group rolling their eyes at the artist’s eccentricity.

“Well, while Fox has the chance to thoroughly inspect the program you gave us,” Goro sighed as he turned his head to the shadow next to him, “Might as well explain as to why there’s no sign of a treasure.”

“Do you think I’m the reason why there’s no treasure?” Joker asks, and Goro pursed his lips in response.

“Well, it is weird that neither I nor Futaba could detect it.” Morgana piques up, jumping up from Ann's lap and onto the table, “Even when Futaba’s treasure turned out to be her, I could sniff it out easily...”

He trails off his gaze drifting onto the ground, before his head snapped up, his eyes filled with resolve.

“But that doesn’t matter right now!” Morgana said, “Our first goal here is to rescue Ren, treasure or no treasure!”

"Well, if our primary goal is to rescue Ren from the Fool's Theatre, we must do it by the 11th of April," Yusuke said suddenly, closing the program before gently returning it to the centre of the table and grabbed one of the golden tickets for himself.

"The 11th of April, where did you get that date from?" Sumire puzzled, Yusuke turned to look at her.

"It said so in the program." he replied as Futaba took the booklet for herself, "'Join us at the Fool's Theatre for the World Premiere of a performance of a lifetime' it said, and it referred to a special guest appearance; no doubt referring to-"

“Ren-senpai.” Sumire finished his train of thought.

“Well, judging from the map here, it’s gonna be pretty easy.” Futaba said as she flicked through the booklet herself, “There are only nine floors we need to go through, ten if we’re including the Fool’s Theatre.���

“And all we have to do is to just watch some plays, right?” Ryuji said, crossing his legs casually in his seat, “Man, this is gonna be a piece of cake for us. I mean, even if there are shadows who are gonna jump us like with those shadows earlier, taking them out would be easy.”

“Still, I think it would be best to exercise caution.” Haru said, “Speaking of which…”

She turned to Yusuke. He raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, Noir?”

“I think you need some healing. I can still see the impact of the previous fight on you.”

“I’m fine, Noir. Really, it is no trouble-”

“No, please, Fox. At least take some-”

“I would rather not-”

“Fox-!”

While the group was too occupied with the bickering members, Joker turned to look at Goro. His eyes gazed soft and longingly at the black figure who looked away from the commotion, instead more content in observing the wandering cognitions as they talked amongst each other.

“Akechi.” Joker said, his voice a whisper, “How did you-”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Goro grumbled back, his back still turned towards the shadow, “I don’t have to explain anything to you. Just know that I am alive.”

“Oh, okay,” Joker mumbled, taken aback by Goro’s dismissive tone, sinking back into silence.

“-There we go, Fox. Are you feeling any better?” Haru said, her words caught the attention of Joker as he turned to look to see a smiling Yusuke.

“Why yes, Noir.” Yusuke smiles, “I feel much better actually, thank you for healing me, although you did not have to.”

“Well, you were stubborn about it, but I’m just glad that your injuries are-”

“If you’re all done fooling around, then I suggest we get this infiltration started.” Goro snapped and interrupted Haru, everyone flinching at Goro’s outburst as he got up from the booth seat, “We haven’t got time to waste. We have a deadline to keep to, remember?”

“Dude we’ve got more than a month.” Ryuji said, “And besides, why are you so eager to get started?”

Goro’s only response was a cold look towards Joker, the shadow stone-faced as red gazed into gold. Without another word, Goro turned on his heel and walked away.

Joker slipped out of his seat to address his friends after Goro’s leaving.

“He’s right.” Joker admits, “You all need to get going. Every second you waste here is a second that Ren… my other… stays trapped in this place with the puppet master that’s holding him in there.”

“Does that mean you’re going to watch the performances as well?” Makoto asked the shadow; Joker shook his head in response.

“Forgot to grab a ticket for myself.” he said, “That, and I was thinking of making myself useful to the team. I can get into places that I doubt you guys even can, so while you see whatever’s going on in those halls, I’ll see whatever I can uncover regarding my other’s psyche.”

“But you’re already useful,” Sumire said.

“Yeah.” Ann agreed, “You already told us how to get into those auditoriums and got the ticket and the map to the Palace for us. You’ve done so much already for us, Joker. Don’t worry about it.”

“...Thanks.” Joker smiled as he watched his friends slowly exit from the booth, “It’s just. You’re doing so much for me already, it’s the least I can do to help you guys.”

“Nah man, you’ve already done so much for us before this.” Ryuji laughed, pulling the shadow into a quick hug, “If anything, this is us repaying you for all you’ve done.”

“I agree with Skull,” Morgana said as he hopped from the table, his own ticket glittering in his paws, “This is our way of returning the favour.”

The other thieves nodded in agreement to Ryuji and Morgana’s words, and Joker’s smile grew larger. He felt loved, their resolve glittered in their eyes.

“Thank you, everyone,” he said, before turning to Makoto.

“Well, I suggest you all go into the Devil Theatre first, the one numbered fifteen.” he informed the temporary leader, his gaze looking sternly at her as he nodded towards the general direction of their goal, “It’s the only one currently available for showing. I’m sure the other hall, numbered seventeen, will open once the performance is done.”

“Thank you, Joker,” Makoto said as she nodded at him.

“You’re welcome, my Queen.”

He watched the rest of the thieves wander towards the auditorium, sans Makoto, who briskly walked towards Goro. He watched as they spoke with each other, Goro standing from the wall he was leaning on, hush words exchanged between the two thieves. Their conversation stops, and both Makoto and Goro wandered towards the entrance where the others stood.

Joker waited, watching silently as his friends all went through the door, he watched as the door closed fully, watched he was alone with the cognitions of his palace. No sign of the door opening again, he waited for a bit, until he assumed, they'd taken their seats. Good.

He looked behind him. At a small black, glistening speck nestled within the dark where even the sharpest eyes could barely detect it. He looked directly at the hidden camera.

And smiled deviously.

  ---

  Makoto was the last one to seat herself within the last row of the small auditorium room, the thieves sitting in the row behind the rest of the cognitive audience, allowing themselves to be hidden among the shadows. The lights that illuminated the sides of the room dimmed into darkness, signalling the audience that the play before them was about to begin. A second passed. Then two, then three. Slight creaks echoed amongst the audience within the room as cognitions shifted impatiently in their seats, the Phantom Thieves on edge as they anxiously waited for the performance to start.

“Is something supposed to-”

A stark shutter interrupted Ryuji’s inquiry, the stage lit with a single spotlight, the cognitions muttering ceasing as their heads snapped to watch the stage.

Stillness sunk within the small space. Then the sounds of steps, before a figure emerged into the light. Black curls of hair characterised the actor before them, his face down, shrouded and obscured to the rest of the audience. Yet the Phantom Thieves knew who it was. It was…

“Ren?” Ann whispered as she turned to Futaba who was sitting next to her, “Is that him?”

“Hmm, doesn’t look to be him,” Futaba said, adjusting her goggles as she took a closer look at the actor on the stage, “Readings seem to be giving off that this Ren is merely a cognition of sorts. A fake.”

“Why would Ren have cognitions of himself?” Yusuke queried Morgana who was seated next to him.

“It may have to do with something related to the particular formation of his Palace,” Morgana explained as he observed the cognitive Ren closely.

The cognitive Ren looked at the audience, his eyes unfocused.

“February was where my end, began.” The cognition started; his tone flat as he began his monologue. He talked about saving a woman from a drunken man while he was walking home, how his parents found out he was sued, how he was shipped off into the city, and how he had to stay in an attic within a coffee shop. The thieves quickly understood that the cognitive version of their leader was recounting his time in Tokyo.

“April the 11th,” the cognitive Ren continued, “I met someone who would become my best friend, I discovered a World where the deepest, darkest desires of men manifest, and it was the day that I finally felt… free.”

“That’s when he awoke to Arsene, right?” Ann whispered to Ryuji, who gave a nod as the cognitive Ren continued his monologue.

“I mean, it makes sense.” Morgana said, “When you guys first tore off your masks you are tearing off the mask you wear around society and the outside world.”

“-And so, every time we summon our Persona’s, we are revealing our inner selves towards the rest of the world?” Haru said, clasping her hands, “That’s really poetic.”

“I suggest you all shut your mouths if you don’t want to get caught.” Goro snaps at them, his voice controlled yet a hint of annoyance towards the conversing thieves. Ryuji looked at him as he was about to snap back towards the traitor, but decided against it, while the other thieves shifted uncomfortably in their seats before turning back their attention to the play before then.

Madarame’s Museum, Makoto’s blackmail, Kaneshiro’s Bank. Futaba’s cry for help in exchange for helping take down Medjed. Meeting Haru. Taking down Okumura. Changing Sae’s heart. The interrogation and Goro’s betrayal. The cognition continued to recount the events of Ren’s year in Tokyo with a monotone voice to his crowd, yet the thieves noticed that memories he even considered ‘positive’ during his time there were few and far in between.

“If these were his memories, then why are there barely any happy ones?” Sumire puzzled out loud towards Makoto, who crossed her arms in thought.

“He might be minimising his happier memories and magnifying his traumatic memories,” she said, watching the cognitive Ren as he continued to monologue to his audience, his voice dull, his expression downcast with shadow.

“Why?”

“I… I don’t know Sumire,” Makoto admitted, turning to her with sorrowful eyes.

“Is it just me, or has the spotlight dimmed a bit?” Haru said, Yusuke giving her a nod of agreement.

“I’ve noticed it too,” he confirmed, his voice solemn, “Is it perhaps something to do with the play itself? The subject matter?”

“Yeah, it makes more sense if that were the case,” Morgana said, “After all, this reflects a part of Ren's psyche. If the stage is dimming, it will be related to whatever this play is about.”

“Another thing, Morgana. If we are required to watch these plays in order to access the main theatres to get the keys to unlock the Fool’s Theatre, is it Ren’s way of communicating his troubled mind to us?”

Before Morgana could answer Yusuke, stunned gasps erupted from the audience. The cat turned his attention towards the stage, only to find the cognitive Ren sinking into darkness, still monologuing, unaware of his current predicament.

Morgana caught the words that came out of the cognitive Ren’s mouth, and he felt unease slowly churn his stomach. The cognitive Ren was talking about his life back in Inaba: the shame his mother and father bore with his false arrest, the shunning and isolation he faced from his classmates, the rumours that seemed to follow him from Shujin. Though the cognition kept the same, blank expression towards the audience, each word he seemed to utter sank him deeper and deeper in his own shadow, swallowing him whole as the audience did nothing but watch the spectacle in bewildered silence.

“What the eff...” Ryuji said, trailing off in horror, turning to Ann with pleading eyes. Yet Ann shook her head in response, knowing that the impulsive member of the group wanted to save the sinking mockery of their friend - something she wanted as well.

“Ann...”

“Skull,” Ann said, careful to use his codename as she spoke, her voice soft and pleading as she gently pulled him down back onto his seat, him following almost instinctively as he sat back down. He too saw her desire to spring into action, to save the cognition as he drowned in his own shadow, dragged into sentient darkness while staring at them with blank eyes; but she knew she could do nothing, as so did the other thieves, and Ryuji tried to swallow the rage he felt as the audience clapped with disappointment at the cognition’s performance.

---

“Are you enjoying the performance so far, my guest?” Joker asked Ren, him smiling gleefully as Ren looked at him with hatred, bound hands curled into fists as his shadow, Joker’s eyes illuminating with pleasure.

“Performance? You call that a performance?” Ren spat, concealing his confusion of his shadow’s plans, and plotted to use Joker’s smugness in order to get even a sliver as to what his shadow had in store, “I’ve seen better performances at kindergarten productions. Even low budget soap operas have more effort than that story excuse for drama.”

“I know what you’re doing, Ren,” Joker said, his expression unchanging, amused to see Ren trying his best to outsmart his own shadow, “It’s cute but, don’t think for a second that it’ll work on me. I know you, and I know you’re trying to slyly trick me into giving away my plans.”

Joker chuckled as Ren’s expression, his other wearing one of annoyance, licking his lips before he continued to taunt him, “I can’t give you a hint. Not yet. It'll ruin the surprise.”

“Surprise?” Ren pondered, raising an eyebrow, and Joker mockingly covered his mouth and gasped.

“Oh, there I go again, running my mouth,” he gasped, before laughing hysterically, clearly amused with himself as he stepped forward towards his bound other, “I must really be careful with what I say. I really mustn't spoil the plot for our grand performance.”

“‘Grand performance’. you mean whatever’s going to happen on the 11th next month, right?”

“You’ve been paying attention.” Joker said, and Ren frowned in response, “But yes. I have a great production for you…for the whole world to witness. It will be the culmination of our desires and dreams, and-”

Joker stopped himself mid-sentence, realising he had gotten ahead of himself, almost making an amateur blunder, and withdrew his hands back into his pockets. Ren could only hiss in disappointment as he anticipated his shadow causing his mistake, playing on Joker’s smug demeanour and using it against him. Instead, the shadow continued to observe him, intense gold shining coldly behind his mask, leaning lazily on the doorframe where he stood.

Something on one of the monitor screens caught Joker’s attention, his eyes focused intensely behind him, as if hypnotised by whatever’s currently playing. Using his strength, Ren swivelled around in his chair to see what Joker was staring at, following his shadow’s gaze to see…

Himself. Crying. Cupping his hands, ash in them, kneeling on the hardwood stage as multiple shadows around him laughed mockingly at him. Two Kodama’s circled his crying copy, giggling as they floated, swirling freely in the air, drowning his sobs as they laughed over him. Ren could see two other shadows that stood behind the curtains, Sraosha looking quietly with its gigantic eye as a Fuu-Ki summoned a gale of wind, his clone trying to shield the ash from the gust, clutching the ash closely to him, yet Ren could see the spotlight illuminating clearly that his treasure was falling swiftly through his fingertips.

“Joker.” Ren said, his voice demanding, angry as he did not understand what the both were watching, “You mentioned scripts, right? What is this supposed to mean? Why are you making me watch… whatever this is!?”

Joker snapped from his trance, blinking his eyes slowly before looking at Ren in acknowledgement. He answered Ren’s question by giving him a grin that made Ren’s blood boil, his knuckles white, rage bubbling in his throat, and Joker couldn’t help but laugh at Ren with utter glee.

“Ren, don’t be upset,” Joker said, walking towards Ren until he loomed over him, the shadow’s shadow cast upon him. He craned down his neck, face inches from Ren’s, his smile full of teeth as his eyes gleamed with such intensity that Ren could not help but wince in intimidation, “After all, we haven’t reached the climax of today’s show, Don’t you want to know what happens? Don’t you?”

“I don’t think I have a choice in the matter.” Ren said, grimacing as Joker’s smile stretched even wider.

“That’s the spirit!” he exclaimed with joy, patting Ren on the head in a congratulatory gesture towards his guest, “After all, I did prepare all of this for you and your friends to enjoy. And enjoy you all shall, ‘ll make sure of that.”

“I still don’t underst-”

“Nononono.” Joker murmured, putting a finger onto Ren’s lips to silence him, shushing each time Ren dared parted his lips, “No more questions. I have to go see the others soon, I can’t miss my cue, you’ll sit tight and watch my performance, won’t you, Ren?”

Ren did not reply. He couldn’t, the steady, defiant look he gave to Joker was the only thing he could do in that situation, and Joker enjoyed how much power he exerted over him.

“Good, good, Ren. I appreciate it,” he said, taking his finger from Ren’s lips, his other keeping silent, maintaining his rebellious expression, up until Joker again closed the door to his prison did Ren allow himself to finally shed a tear.

  ---

  “Damn, that was another bummer, huh.” Ryuji sighed as they exited the other auditorium, his expression dejected as he watched the other thieves emerge from the room alongside him. Each thief wore a similar expression of sadness, coming to terms with what they have witnessed, and the only two who did not seem perturbed as they made their way towards their booth were Morgana and Goro.

“Yeah, both of them sucked,” Ann agreed as she hesitated in following Yusuke within the seat, instead content to just stand over the table as Futaba took her place within the booth, “The audience weren’t all that great either, ‘he’s just being a cry-baby’?! Why would they think that?”

“Same,” Haru sighed, rhythmically tapping her fingers on the polished table in front of her, “It didn’t help that the audience were so rude about it.”

“How can anyone even be ‘bored’ by someone’s misery like that,” Futaba seethed, ignoring her laptop in front of her, her voice cracking as she threatened to cry at any moment, “I know they’re just cognitions, but the idea of even them complaining about Ren’s suffering...”

“...It truly is sadistic, isn’t it?” Yusuke mumbled, hand resting on his chin.

“Remember, whatever is shown in the Palace is a reflection of their ruler’s heart,” Morgana stated, hopping on the table as he addressed the group, “There must be a reason, something in Ren’s psyche that states we have to bear witness to… whatever these plays represent. If we do, it may hold a clue for us to bypass the other plays within this Palace, making our infiltration faster.”

“Mona’s right,” Makoto said, nodding with agreement at the cat’s words, yet the others looked at the both of them with doubt, “Maybe if we ask Joker, he can give us a clue-”

“A clue about what?” a familiar voice purred, and she turned to see Joker standing in front of her, expression neutral, hands in his pockets as he tilted his head in curiosity, “Is it something you need my help with, my Queen?”

“Your entrance was certainly timely,” Goro said, narrowing his eyes as Joker removed his hands from his pockets, allowing them to hang beside him, “Where were you while we were watching those plays? We didn’t see you when the first once ended.”

“I was looking into some things,” Joker answered nonchalantly, absentmindedly waving his hand in the air as he spoke, “Mostly to do with the theatre at the top,”

“Did you find a way to get in?” Makoto asks, in which Joker responded with a frown and the shake of his head.

“No… I’m sorry, Queen,”

“That’s okay,” she reassured him, giving him a reassured smile, “You tried your best, it’s all we can ask for at the moment,”

“Still, how were the plays?” Joker asked, his gaze looking towards the rest of the thieves, “Judging by your expressions, I take it that they weren’t great?”

“No...” Sumire trailed off, expression sullen behind her mask, “They were really depressing, Senpai, it was really hard to watch at times,”

“Oh,” was all Joker had to say to her.

“Yeah,” Haru said, agreeing with Sumire as she adjusted a loose strand of hair that had fallen in front of her face, “It was certainly hard to watch without feeling sad, certainly. Joker, do you know if all the plays are as depressing?”

“I don’t know, they might be, they might not,” Joker admits, “If the plays are too hard to bear, I suggest you come tomorrow and-”

“Nu uh, we’ve come this far already,” Ryuji huffs, uncrossing his legs, “And we aren’t bailing on you, Joker, not until we get… whatever is in there.” he said as he points towards the Empress Theatre.

“Ah, yes,” Joker said, “The Empress Theatre… to get the key right?”

“Speaking of the Empress Theatre,” Makoto remembered, “We still have no clue as to what the second condition is in order to enter it. Will you mind filling us in, Joker?”

“That I can do,” Joker said casually, “But be warned… I don’t exactly understand it myself.”

“Meaning?” Goro challenged, raising an eyebrow as he looked at Joker.

“Well,” Joker started, his eyebrows furrowed as he tried to collect his words, “I’ve mentioned earlier that the person going in has to match the Lead Actor, correct?”

“Correct,” Makoto said as she nodded to Joker, “But, what does that actually mean?”

“Well, I suppose it has to do with it resonating within one of you,” he said, “Ren wears many masks, each one representing an aspect in his daily life, a person who he faces every day. If these auditoriums are so important that the Lead Actors reside in them, that much mean that each hall might represent-”

“One of us,” Morgana finishes, and Joker nods.

“He cares a lot about you all.”

“So, those messages we got, and the Metaverse app installing itself back on our phone… are you suggesting the reason why is because of these Lead Actors?” Goro theorized.

“It might be, Goro,” Joker shrugged, “However, when it comes to each of you belonging to which hall, I don’t really know. What I do know is that I can go into any of them besides the Fool’s Theatre; I suggest whoever goes first that I’ll accompany them as well. There’s no telling what can happen in there once the Lead Actor appears, if they’ll appear, of course.”

“If I may ask, Joker, how do we know if we're the appropriate thief to enter them in the first place?"

“That I… I don’t know.”

The thieves pondered for a moment, each of them looking around at themselves and back at the double doors that lead to the Empress Theatre. Silence fell upon them, the chatter of the cognitions echoing in the background.

Then Ryuji stood up from his seat.

“Well, if you guys are okay with it, I’m going first,” he stated, shocking everyone as they all looked at him with baffled expressions.

“Ryuji, how do you know it is you who fits the conditions of the Empress Theatre?” Yusuke queried his teammate and friend, looking at him with questioning eyes.

“Honestly, I don’t,” Ryuji confesses, “But like, I don’t like the idea of us just sittin’ around here while Ren is above our heads enduring god knows what-”

“But it says Empress, Ryuji,” Futaba interjects as she slumps in her seat, “Meaning it’s gotta be one us girls, not you, who goes in there,”

“Hey, Empress’ can be boys, too!” Ryuji exclaims.

“Nu uh,”

“Can too, probably,”

“I’m sure that’s not how it works,”

“Well, I’m sure if Naoto Shirogane is still called the Detective Prince despite being a woman, Ryuji could very well be an Empress of some kind,” Goro remarked, grinning mischievously, amused somewhat by his own joke.

“See, Futaba? Goro’s got a point!” Ryuji smiled, crossing his arms, and Goro dropped his jaw in astonishment.

“Ryuji, you are aware that I’m making fun of you, right?” Goro huffs, and Ryuji looks at him with an expression of shocked betrayal.

“Wait-what?! I thought you were helping me?!” he stammered as some of the thieves could not contain their giggles, and even Joker couldn’t help but smile at Ryuji’s reaction, “Well, I’m gonna take that as a compliment, anyway,” he said, crossing his arms, “At least I’m trying to think of something to help Ren, why you gotta be an ass about it?”

Goro responded by rolling his eyes before he returned to staring at the double doors.

“Um, I’m sorry to interrupt, but may I volunteer myself to enter it with Joker” Haru piped up, raising her hand quite timidly, trying to get the attention of the rest of the thieves.

“Sure, Haru, but is there something wrong? I hope I’m not being too forward with this, but I didn’t expect you to volunteer so readily,” Makoto said.

“It’s okay, Makoto,” Haru smiled, “And as for me volunteering… I don’t really know how to explain it, but...”

She looks directly towards the Empress Theatre’s doors.

“I feel… strangely drawn to it,” Haru confesses, her eyes steadily fixated on the doors, “It’s like… It’s calling me, I think? I’m sorry if it sounds absurd, but-”

“You have nothing to apologise for, Noir”, Ann said, smiling at her friend as she puts a reassuring hand on Haru’s shoulder, “I mean, we’re in the Metaverse, and there’s bound to be some crazy things that occur here.”

“That said, Panther,” Morgana said as he approaches Haru, “It might be because Noir is the only one that’s able to go into the theatre,”

“How can you be so sure, Mona?” Yusuke inquired, resting his hand on his chin in thought.

“I mean, it is calling for her, right?” Morgana explains to Yusuke, “And given what we know of the Lead Actors, there must be a reason why the theatre itself is calling to Noir specifically. Plus, if we were wrong and Noir is not who the Lead Actor is calling to, Joker would be there to safely get her out, right Joker?”

“Yes,” Joker nods, “I’ll be sure to safely escort Noir out if anything happens. You have my word.”

“Oh okay then,” Haru said cheerfully as she got in her seat, the others doing their best to shift around their legs as she clambered out of the booth before giving Morgana a pat on head, “Thank you so much for the speech of confidence, Mona-chan, I appreciate it greatly!”

“Oh, it’s no trouble at all,” Morgana purred as Haru’s hand left his head. He turned to Joker, “Just make sure that whatever happens, both of you get out safe, okay?”

“We will, Mona,” Joker said, nodding as Haru approached his side, “You can count on me, I’m Joker after all,”

The both said their goodbyes to the others, Haru barely eye Goro as she did so, before they both turned towards their destination, Joker jumping ahead to grab one of the doors for Haru, opening it for her.

“After you, Miss Noir,” Joker said, bowing gracefully at her, hand tucked politely in front of him, earning a giggle from his teammate, a sound he was happy to hear from her, grinning playfully himself.

“Thank you, Joker,” she bows back playfully before entering the room, Joker standing up from his bow and following Haru inside, allowing the door to gently close itself, gently thudding shut behind them.

---

The interior of the auditorium was unlike Haru had ever seen, lilac carpeting over white marble trailed on the floor that led to the polished stage before her. Beautiful plush seats, all adorned with small white pillows sat in rows facing forward, all the same matching lilac as the carpet, while flowers of various colours decorated the column that supported the balcony seats above, vines supporting vibrate green leaves snaking neatly around railings, the pleasant floral aroma wafting down alongside small petals that landed beside her feet. She looked up, slow, hazy movement having caught her eye, to see a giant, crystalline chandelier hanging below a moving landscape of soft, painted clouds floating by an idyllic sky.

“It’s… beautiful...” Haru marvelled, her eyes wide with complete awe, the hall completely resonating with her aesthetics as she slowly stumbled forward. Joker watched her take in the sight of the decorations that adorned the room, smiling at how happy she looked as he walked ahead, patiently waiting down in front of the steps that lead up to the stage as she slowly clambered down among the row of seats, “Joker, this place is… it’s amazing!” she gasped giggly, and Joker could not help but chuckle at her excitement.

“Is it?” he asked rhetorically, raising an eyebrow in mock curiosity, yet Haru paid no mind to his playfully sarcastic response as she approached him, giddy with excitement.

“Yes...” she sighed as she looked at him, and Joker could see her flinch as soon as she remembered the task she was here for, “I mean… I…. I-” she stammered, a light shade of blush forming on her cheeks, “I’m sorry, I got carried away there, haha,”

“It’s okay, Noir,” he chuckled, before gesturing her to go up the stairs first, a curt bow as he raised his hand towards them, “After you,”

“Thank you, Joker,” she giggled, climbing up the stairs on the stage, her pumps clicking as she walked on the polished floor. She wandered on it, Joker following behind her with a casual stride, “I suppose we need to find the Lead Actor now, right?”

“I guess-”

The lights shuttered shut, both Haru and Joker jumped in place, both grabbing and readying their weapons as they stood side by side. Nothing happened. There was no movement, only the sound of silence echoed the walls, their own breathing almost deathly silent as the two of them prepared for an enemy to pounce.

Another shutter echoed the still theatre. A single spotlight shined suddenly in the dark. Haru narrowed her eyes in confusion and worry, her grip on her axe tightening, feeling Lucy stir under her mask as she took small, slow steps towards the solitary spotlight. Her ears strained in the silence as she slowly approached the outer rim, yet she saw no shadow slithering in sight.

“Joker?” Haru whispered, turning her head to find the shadow of her friend missing, sweat now gathering under her gloves, gaze flicking anxiously as he tried to spot him. Another sound. Haru turned to see nothing lurking in the audience area.

She felt rough hands grab her shoulders, and she was promptly shoved into the light. She tumbled into the spotlight, shrieking as light consumed her vision, before shifting to dark, and Haru could feel herself falling.

She fell, wind whipping her hair, weapon slipped from her grip as she flailed in nothing, she screamed, pleading for help, yet the shadows responded with nothing.

A sudden “oomph” fell between her lips as she sunk into the shrubbery, the plant miraculously cushioning her from what felt like to be a very steep fall. She groaned, the wind knocked out of her lungs as she impacted the bush, allowing her a moment to gather her strength before pushing herself up.

“W... where am I?” Haru thought out loud as her eyes scanned her surroundings. She found herself to be in some sort of garden, the plants looking sullen and sickly, wilting, starving for sunlight and warmth as they sunk into the stone that decorated the area, the sky black and empty, lacking any features. She got up to her feet, dusting her legs and trousers of dirt as best she could as she continued to look around, marvelling grimly at the state of the garden, yet found it odd that she could see without an obvious light source.

“Hello?” she shouted, her voice echoing, yet she heard no response. She quieted her breaths, listening intently for any sound in the stillness.

A sob. Haru rushed quietly towards it, softly stepping on the dead flowers and leaves as best she could, following a weathered stone path into an alcove next to a dried waterfall, only to see Ren sitting on a dead lotus, surrounded by a ring of anemone, naked and crying. Petals of marigold drifted gently down the golden shaft of light that illuminated him from above, some sticking on his skin, seemingly clinging it to him as the thorns of white roses dug into him, Ren covered in bruises and scabs as they seemed to suck sickly on his blood while narcissus flowers were stuck, rotten in his hair.

“Ren,” she said, reaching out to him in hopes of soothing her crying friend, only to be stung by the thorns that clung to him, and she could see them tightening around his body, pricking fresh new blood as he continued to wail. She panicked, his whines tugging at her heart, Haru desperately trying to reach out for him, calling his name over and over, yet for every word she uttered, his wail of pain and anguish drowned her out.

“Ren, please!” Haru begged, yet Ren barely acknowledged her, still sobbing as the vines strangled him more and more. She panicked, trying to desperately calm Ren while trying not to touch the vines, yet each patch of skin she reached for earned herself another lash from the roses as they rushed to cover Ren, causing him to howl and bleed.

“Ren, I’m so sorry, I don’t know what to do,” she apologised, watching solemnly as Ren continued to cry, barely acknowledging her presence, too absorbed within his despair as marigolds continue to flutter down towards him, earning another gasp as they landed snugly on his flesh. It seemed to her that the only thing that remotely stirred Ren were the flowers that surrounded him.

An idea sprung to mind. Hushing a goodbye, Haru retreated from the alcove back into the wider garden, a goal that kept her steadfast as she trudged among the floral graveyard. Her eyes swept across sickly green and brown until-

She spotted a single, small daffodil sprouting amongst dead branches, yellow barely shining amongst brown, its petals poking out just enough for Haru to see. She approached the flower, gently pushing the branches away before she carefully reached for the flower and plucked it from the ground.

“Hello, little friend,” she said as she gently held the daffodil in her hand, its petals shining in the omnipresent light. She stood up from her crouching position, the flower in her hand, and continued to patrol the garden, looking for any more flowers she could salvage from the decrepit garden.

In what seemed like hours (though she couldn’t tell, as time felt like it had no governance in that realm) she had collected four additional flowers for her small, makeshift bouquet: twin red Carnations sat next to the Daffodil in her hand, a purple Iris and a pink Hibiscus intertwined together wrapped up with the other flowers, and a Sunflower stood tall amongst them. By coincidence, she happened to find a pink ribbon amongst the mess of twig and stone that defined the garden, its origin unknown, but in which Haru used to tie the stems tightly together.

A last patrol around the garden and Haru made her way back to the alcove where Ren sat, the bouquet in her hands. She felt sickly as she saw the number of marigold petals that covered him, touching any inch of skin not already occupied by the snaking thorns around his hunched body. “Ren?” she whispered, in which he did not reply, but when she held up her gift did Ren stir from his position. He blinked; black, shimmering eyes stained with red looked at the flowers with curiosity. Haru choked back a fearful sob as Ren weakly reached for the flowers she held in her hands.

“Here, Ren. These are for you,” she said, yet she did not know if her words reached his ears, or whether he could even comprehend them while in his current state. He grabbed weakly at them, thin fingertips brushing against the petals of the flowers, grasping at them with great difficulty, and Haru helped him seize his gift by grabbing his hand before clasping his fingers for him.

“There you go, Ren. Just hold them tight,” she cooed, wrapping the flowers to his hand with the bouquet’s ribbon, making sure the knot she tied around them secure. She gave him a smile, and although Ren’s gaze was wholly fixated on the flowers he held, he smiled in return.

The white roses and their thorns rapidly snaked up his arms as Haru’s flowers erupted spontaneously into cyclamen and sweet pea, the anemone hissed at her feet as she stumbled back in fear. The petals of marigold once fluttered down sparsely from above now rained on Ren in a torrent as they drowned the boy, his hand holding what was once his gift still exposed, left untouched.

Haru tried to save him, she tried to approach her friend, yet something snaked between her ankles and held her in place, Haru looking down to see stalks of spider lilies squeezing her stationary, more and more joining as the stone path fell before her, Haru’s frame supported by the spider lilies that continued to assault her, Haru screaming as she desperately fought off the flora binding her in place. One latched onto her right wrist before pulling back, another one doing the same to her left, and Haru thrashed, squealing in utter fear as the flowers restrained her, and she looked to still see Ren’s exposed hand, still clutching onto the flowers, the ribbon gleaming vibrantly against pale skin.

“Get-” Haru tried to shriek, fighting instincts flaring in her muscles as terror pooled in her stomach. Yet she was silenced when the lilies snaked up her neck and around her mouth, and she muffled as they continued to climb up her body. She jerked wildly, her body flailing, her vision blackening, the last thing she saw being Ren’s still outstretched hand and the marigolds that continued to pour violently onto him before the lilies snaked around her eyes, and soon suffocated her other senses entirely.

  ---

There was nothing. Black.

Her head was full of fog.

Haru felt her mouth dry. She smacked her lips, the skin chapped, her throat hoarse. Dizzy. She felt dizzy.

The sound of chirped chatter, the patter of a carpeted floor and the clatter of cutlery. Bright light in her eyes mixed with darkness. She could smell something savoury.

Haru opened her eyes, her eyelashes fluttering against her face, the sound of the diners eating and chatting around her, the smell of the buffet reaching her nostrils caused her to salivate, the intensity of the yellow lighting above her made her wince as her eyes adjusted from the brightness from above. She raised her head from the cool dining table she was currently slumped over, waiting for her tired brain to register where she even was.

Blinking a few times, she finally knew where she was: at the famous Wilton hotel buffet in Tokyo. Memories of the spider lily assault sprung back to mind, and Haru panicked as she rushed as she felt her face and looked at her hands. Her mask was on, and she saw her purple gloves and her pink blouse. She was still in her Phantom Thief attire. She was still in the Palace; Ren’s Palace.

A pang of emptiness echoed in her heart as familiar giggles caught her attention, Haru turning her head left to see a copy of herself and a smiling, casually dressed Ren laughing over their cakes. She narrowed her eyes in confusion. She recognised this as one of the numerous meetings she had with him during Ren’s stay in Tokyo; a recent memory to be exact, celebrating her finishing her exams with some of the best confectionery and coffee the hotel could supply. She watched as they conversed, yet barely acknowledged the heavy feeling that weighted her breaths.

“This is good.” Ren complimented, gesturing to the piping, white mug he was holding, “Good coffee, certainly not close to Sojiro’s though,”

“I don’t think there’s coffee that comes close to how Sojiro makes it.” other Haru complimented, taking a sip from her own cup, a satisfied sigh passing through her lips.

“I mean, the guy had help from a certified genius in the form of Futaba’s mom, after all,” Ren pointed out as he gently put down the mug of coffee in front of him, “Wakaba helped a lot with perfecting the stuff Sojiro currently makes… although, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d discover some special coffee tricks himself.”

“Yes well, I’ve actually arranged with him some hours in Leblanc, where he’d promise to teach me some of his coffee making skills,” other Haru said, and Haru could have sworn the sinking feeling came back with more intensity.

“Oh, stealing my job now, aren’t we?” Ren jokes, and other Haru laughs, waving her hand sheepishly. Haru’s own breaths grew heavier.

“Of course not, Ren,” other Haru giggles, “But it’s certainly a good experience to gain for running my cafe. Sojiro-san is kind, patient, and has good experience with running Leblanc, so I personally think it’s appropriate to be guided by him.”

“Well, good luck.” Ren said, taking another sip from his coffee mug, “I’m sure you’ll do great.”

“Thank you!” the other Haru smiled as she took another sip from her cup, “I know I’ll sound quite absurd, but I’m so thankful that you’re so supportive of me opening my cafe. It brings me with joy knowing that I have a friend like you.”

“It’s really no problem, Haru,” Ren said, yet Haru felt otherwise with another pang of dread and stress  echoed in her chest, “I want to see all my friends succeed, and last time I checked you’re one of my friends, unless of course there’s a fight or betrayal of trust I missed the memo of participating in,”

“Ren!” other Haru gasps and Ren casually laughs at her shocked reaction.

“I’m just kidding of course,” he winks, taking a sip of coffee, earning a giggle and a hushed, playful scold from the other Haru, yet Haru could feel inside her heart that it was anything but.

The two continued to talk amongst another, Haru quietly both Ren and her past self as they chatted about all sorts of things, absentmindedly consuming the various delectable treats as they did so. It was when the other Haru gasped did they both realise that they'd run out of sweets to eat. The other Haru stood up from her seat, Ren looking at her with a perplexed expression.

"I'm thinking of grabbing more treats for myself," she said, "The Wilton hotel does have the nicest desserts don't you think? I'm thinking of getting some more of their crumpets, they go well with the jam they provide. What about you, Ren? Would you like anything?"

"I'm fine, thank you," Ren said, smiling at the other Haru. With a nod of understanding and a hushed 'I'll be back' the other Haru quietly wandered away from the table, and it was the first time Haru herself could see Ren noticeably relax in his seat, the smile he wore flattening into a tired frown.

She grimaces, the suffocating feeling coming back now full force within Haru as Ren stared off into the distance, his fingers rhythmically tapping the gleaming surface of the dining table he was sat at. It was a feeling of aimless dread, the feeling that Haru was acquainted with, welling up inside of her from nights staring up at her ceiling, miserable as she had no tangible control of her life as she was used as a people by her father, then again as she was suddenly thrust upon with the responsibilities of managing an entire corporation without so much of an ounce of experience or help. She remembers the dizzying feeling of being so lost with what to do, aimless and stressed and drowning in her emotions, and she remembers Ren being the one who helped her overcome the thoughts of doubts and self-loathing that came with such a huge responsibility of planning her future.

So why was she feeling this all over again? Unless…

"I'm back, sorry I took so long." other Haru apologises as she puts down her plate of treats, Ren sitting back up in his seat and smiling at her, yet Haru could now see his expression was less vibrant than before, "Some vanilla sponge cake caught my eye while I was helping myself with the crumpets, and I was deciding whether to further indulge myself or to take what I wanted, which I ended up doing of course,"

"Shame to that sponge cake," Ren said jokingly, "Left alone in the cruel world, never to be eaten by someone as sweet as it, oh the tragedy!"

"Haha, I'm sure someone will save it from this cruel world," other Haru played along, gently cutting one of the crumpets on her plate into two, "Unrelated to our conversation on sweets, but how have you been doing recently?"

Haru felt herself choke at the question, yet Ren still wore his cheery expression.

"Other than applying for universities, nothing really major," Ren said casually, and Haru felt another well of stress rising from her chest, "I really want to go to a good culinary school, but I'm also looking at drama schools as well, not that they'd accept me, but I'm hoping at least,"

"Drama? I didn't know you were interested in drama. When did this happen, Ren?" other Haru said, and Ren smiled at her.

"When I was applying, I remembered my time as Joker," he explained, his voice now hushed, yet Haru could hear him just as clearly as if the surrounding noise quieted in volume around her, "I… I really enjoyed how free I felt, and though I love cooking more than anything, I… I really want to relive that feeling, I want to be Joker again, I guess is what I'm saying, even joined the drama club as soon as I got back to Yasogami High. A lot of my friends there were shocked by the sudden change of interests almost, but I guess I never knew I had that side within me until then, haha,"

"Well, I'm sure you'll do great," other Haru said reassuringly, and all of a sudden Haru felt… doubt creep out her throat, "You're a strong and determined person Ren, I'm sure whatever you put your mind to, you'll do great!"

Though Haru knew her words of encouragement to her friend were genuine, hearing them again while alien feelings churned around her heart felt disingenuous, fake, lacking any warmth as her past self took a bite out of the crumbling pastry, "And if you need any help, I'll be here for you okay?"

Ren could not help but force a smile, and Haru felt so alone as Ren replied a small, forceful, polite "okay" to the other Haru.

---

Light consumed her vision once more, and Haru found herself back in the Empress Theatre atop the polished, wooden stage, the bright spotlight shining down upon her as she rose from her knees. She looked around the stage, seeing only herself, not even Joker who had mysteriously disappeared, likely wandering within the depths of the backstage to investigate while she was trapped in her trial.

Grabbing her axe that lay beside her, Haru noticed a peculiar object that she had not seen before. It lay in front of her, edges gleaming beautifully in the light, and she recognised it as her mask.

“Is that…” she exclaimed in bewilderment, quickly touching her face to see that yes, she did still have her mask on. She pushed herself off the floor, picking up the handle of her axe before approaching the object, grabbing it off the floor.

It was a perfect replica of her mask, down to the soft bend where it settled on the ridge of her nose. It felt light, yet fragile, Haru marvelling at the craftsmanship down to the stitching on the edges, the material shone slickly as she tilted it around, taking a closer look.

She heard familiar heels clicking gently on the polished floor, turning around to see Joker, his golden eyes looking quizzically at hers as he walked towards the thief, hands in his pockets, his coat flapping lazily in time with the sway of his steps.

“So, you’ve gotten a key,” he informed her, looking at the black mask in her hands.

“To the Fool’s Theatre, right?” she asked him, and Joker nods, smiling proudly at her achievement.

“You did great, Noir!” he smiled at her, and Haru smiled in return. She pocketed the mask before she turned to leave the stage, yet when she made her way towards the stairs Joker gently grabbed her arm.

“Joker, what’s the matter?” she asked, slightly startled by his abrupt action. Joker pulled his hand away from her, a look of intensity in his eyes before they wandered from her own down towards her hand that clutched the mask.

“Why don’t you put it on?” he said, before meeting her gaze again, his tone assertive, not really asking her but rather demanding her to put on the strange object. Haru’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Why would I do that?” she asked, puzzled by Joker’s peculiar suggestion, tilting her head slightly, “Is it something I have to do in addition to-”

“No, that’s not it.” Joker admitted. He looked hesitant, constantly shifting from one leg to another, looking down at the floor as he tried to find the right words to convey his thoughts.

“It’s just...” he began, his voice trailed off along with his gaze. They both snapped suddenly back towards her, “Aren’t you tired of being Haru?”

“I… I don’t understand,” Haru replied, taken aback by his strange question, “What do you mean, tired of being me’? I don’t think I can ever be tired of being ‘me’ if I’m always ‘me’ so to say,”

“I meant, are you tired of being Haru?” he clarified, “tired of the responsibilities, tired of having to hide your true self, tired of having to suppress your feelings, tired of having to force yourself to smile, to pretend, to please everyone? Don’t you want to be free of it all?”

He pointed at the mask she held beside her, “All you have to do is wear that mask, Haru. If you do, you’ll be able to finally be free.”

Haru felt uncomfortable. She couldn’t fathom why Joker would suggest such a thing to her, stepping back in almost fear, his words settling a feeling of unease in her stomach.

“I’ll be free?” she asked, yet she feared she knew what he was suggesting. Joker stepped towards her, his eyes transfixed onto hers, his expression unreadable, and Haru could feel her heart thump loudly, ringing in her ears.

“Put on the mask, Haru,” Joker insisted, his tone demanding, expecting her to do what she was told to, “Put it on. Become Noir,” he said, “Leave Haru behind,”

“Joker, you’re scaring me,” Haru squeaked, again backing away from the shadow, her grip on her axe tightening, ready to defend herself if she absolutely had to. Yet Joker did not deter from his goal. He still pursued her, his pace quickened to match the fleeing girl, and Haru felt herself on the precipice of hysterics.

“Put. On. The. Mask. Haru.” Joker demanded, his calm, polite facade dissipated, the shadow from under his mask overcasting his eyes, taking one large stride across the gap between to loom over her, “Do it, Haru. Do it!”

“No,” she mumbled, and Joker looked at her, confused.

“What?”

“I said,” she began, her voice rising, her fear evaporating, the anger in which she wielded against shadows in the Metaverse coming to her aid once more. She eyed Joker, the same defiant look he had taught her to embrace when she rebelled against her father and her unwanted fiancé, the same call to action she had felt when she had first fully awoken to her Persona now buzzed within her fingertips, “I said, no! You might be Ren’s shadow, but you are not Ren! You’re an ugly part of him, one that could grow, and fester unchecked! I don’t care if you call yourself, Joker. You are not him! You will never be him! And I will never take orders from you!”

“But, Noir!” Joker pleaded, shifting once more into his polite facade, “I’m trying to free you! To give you a better existence! To exist unchained by society! Why are you throwing this opportunity to truly live as you are!? If you join me, you and I and the others would enjoy a perfect world where we rule it. Don't you want that?!”

" I don't want to, because,” she now shouted, politeness and kindness towards the shadow replaced with scorn and fury, regaining her footing against Joker as she stood up tall, axe now at the ready, feeling Lucy pulsating within her as her Persona itched for a fight, “I’m already living as my true self, as me! You should know, Joker. It was you - no - Ren, who showed me that, showed me that I can live and exist as myself, both around my friends and in society! I don’t need to exist as Noir, because Noir is me and I am her! And your "perfect world" idea? It goes against everything we, as Noir and Haru, and as the Phantom Thieves, stand for, and you know it yourself!”

The mask in her hand suddenly began to shake violently in her grip, Haru gasped as it fell out of her grasp and onto the floor, shattering into pieces.

“No!” both shrieked as the mask shattered, shards of black spilling across the stage. Before either of them could utter a word, the pieces began to vibrate erratically on their own before erupting into dark tendrils that rose into the air. They congregate together, swirling into a ball of black before morphing into a silhouette. Suddenly, as quick as it appeared the silhouette shed the shadow that formed it to reveal a Kali.

“Haru!” Joker gasped, yet Haru ignored him completely, running towards the shadow with a battle cry, both of her hands gripping tightly on her axe as she swung it with her entire strength. Kali blocked Haru’s attack with ease with the use of its swords, pushing Haru away, the girl stumbling back on the wooden floor, yet she managed to regain her footing, taking a fighting stance once more.

“Haru, stop!” Joker begged as Haru continued to fight the shadow, yet she did not heed his words, instead continuing her assault towards the shadow. Joker attempted to step between the shadow and the girl yet stopped when Haru reached for her mask.

“Lucy!” she shouted, ripping her mask off her face, summoning her Persona in an eruption of blue flame, casting Life Wall on herself as the Kali charged towards her, Joker desperately trying to find an opening to intervene, yet the gap between them closed too quickly. The Kali took a swing, the strength of its strike immediately bouncing off the magical wall that Haru put over herself and striking the shadow instead, and the girl used the opportunity provided to take out her grenade launcher before blasting the shadow back completely.

“Noir, what are you doing!?” Joker growled at her, yet Haru paid little attention as she raised her axe, and before the shadow could react, let alone flee, she brought her blade down upon it, killing it.

“No!” Joker shrieked as the Kali dissipated from the stage, leaving a crystalline version of the mask behind, clutching his hair as he stared at the object, eyes wide and panicked, “No no no no no!”

“W... what?” Haru mumbled, blinking rapidly as she calmed down, withdrawing her axe to her side as she saw the crystal mask on the wooden floor. It had the same shape, but it now appeared crystalline, its colour purple like the gloves she currently wore. She approached the masked and crouched down looking at it curiously, yet she dared not touch it.

“Joker, w-”

“You ruined everything!” Joker screamed as he stomped on the floor, tears forming around the corners of his eyes, enraged as he looked at Haru with hatred, “My prop… my precious prop… I spent so long preparing it, making sure it would do what I wanted; I even had to ruin my statue, only for you to destroy it!”

Haru flinched each time Joker raised his voice, her sudden burst of adrenaline from the Kali fight, the drain from her trial and the uncharacteristic tantrum Joker was throwing left her kneeling on the floor, too stunned and exhausted from her trial and fight to do anything but watch as he complained incessantly about his plans. He reached into his hair, intertwining his fingers around his curly locks, mumbling frantically, and Haru could just hear him talk to himself.

“Ruined… ruined… the key… the script… fuck...” he muttered, Haru straining to hear him through her frantic heartbeat. She reached slowly for the crystal mask that lay beside her, gently brushing the smooth surface with her fingertips before she grabbed it. As she did so, Joker snapped to attention and saw the mask in her hands.

“Haru,” Joker warned, hands dropping to his sides, staring at her with a blank expression, yet his eyes followed the mask obsessively, “What are you doing?”

“I’m… I’m taking the mask,” Haru said, her voice hesitant as she stood up from the floor, Joker’s gaze still following the object.

“Hah, you are, aren’t you?” he snarled, scowling with hatred as he looked at her, golden eyes radiating hatred towards Haru, “Ruining my plans, my production, just like that? Hah, I expected nothing less...”

“Joker, please stop this-”

“No!” he screamed, and Haru jumped, her breath lurching as he laughed maniacally in restrained gasps, holding his head in his hands as he closed his eyes, “Why, why would I stop? I want to achieve my goal, Haru, something you can relate to correct? After all, I was the one who helped you gather the courage to attend that stupid Okumura Foods meeting to launch your dream in opening your little cafe,”

He raised his head to look at her, “So why did you ruin mine?”

“Joker-”

“I know why,” he started, again walking towards her, his chin held high, his grin bearing teeth as he looked down at her, “It’s because you like to ruin things, don’t you, Haru?”

“I-”

“Taking Morgana away from us, always whining about the father who treated you to an end. By the way,” he pondered for a moment, tapping his chin with a finger in mock thought, “that guy you were supposed to get married with, Sugimura. Whatever happened to him?”

“I managed-”

“-to call off the marriage, I figured as much.” Joker smiled, causing Haru further unease, “To think you’d be able to do something on your own. Never thought you’d be even capable of something like that-”

“Joker,” Haru interrupted, and Joker stopped his rant as she slowly got up to her feet, “Ren… why are you saying all of this!? What are you talking about!? What’s gotten into you?”

Joker flinched visibly at her calling his real name, as if remembering that it was indeed his own name, and he wore a sour expression.

“Why do you want to know?” he spat at her, eyes narrowing in contempt as he addressed her.

“Because, this is unlike you,” Haru said, walking slowly towards him, expression sincere and kind as she spoke, “This is not the kind, understanding, supportive leader that I got to know. Ren...”

“Then you really don’t know me at all, do you?” he chuckled dryly, shaking his head in almost disbelief, “Haru; there’s so much you don’t know about me, yet you trust me? Why?”

“Well… why wouldn’t I?” Haru asked, genuinely confused as he continued to chuckle to himself.

“I know why,” he said, “Because you are an idiot. An airheaded, spoiled idiot that wormed her way into our friend group. If it weren’t for your father, we wouldn’t have to deal with Sae, I wouldn’t have to play bait just to get back at Akechi, and we wouldn’t have to deal with the scathing backlash, only to be forgotten like just some…. Some cultural FAD!”

Each word Joker said raised his voice until he was screaming at her, and each word caused Haru to become more and more upset as Joker assaulted her with his voice, echoing across the walls of the empty hall, until Joker was huffing, a hand over his forehead, almost heaving with exhaustion, and Haru attempted to reach out for him, only for Joker to swat her hand.

“Don’t” Joker managed to gasp as he suddenly felt dizzy, the same surge of power and energy he felt when first confronting his other that boggled his mind even further. ‘Why was this happening now?’ he asked himself as he eyed Haru with malice, while the curly-haired girl looked at him with horror; worry even.

“Just go,” he growled, his words only bringing more power to his veins, Joker trying to restrain the groans that bubbled up his throat, opting instead to huddle further towards the stage floor. Haru did not know what to do. She wanted to help, eyes widened with panic as to her, Joker’s condition continued to worsen, yet a small part of her feared retribution from the shadow if she tried to help him once again.

“Joker, are you-”

“LEAVE ME.” Joker screeched; his voice boomed in unnatural volume as the walls shook violently. Haru yelped as the power surges continued in Joker’s veins, him now unable to contain himself, uttering a groan of pleasure. He looked up from his curled position to still see Haru looking at him with worry, and with another boom, he shouted, “LEAVE”.

And Haru did. There was first hesitation in her steps, but she obeyed his request, turning and running from the stage and out of the auditorium as the petals from the flowers around her shed their petals at horrifyingly unnatural speeds, leaves shrivelling up and dying, falling towards the now running, scared girl as she swore her surroundings were collapsing around her, and Joker could not help but cackle behind her at the sight of her fleeing before he hastily retreated behind the back of the stage.

---

 “What do you think they’re doing in there anyway?” Ryuji sighed, leaning back at his seat as he bounced his leg impatiently.

The rest of the Phantom Thieves sat in the booth, waiting for Haru and Joker to emerge with the mask, eager to continue with their pursuit deeper into the Palace. Some occupied themselves, Futaba typing away on her laptop, trying to ignore the detective clad in black in front of her, while Yusuke lightly sketched the Palace interior in a little notebook. However, most of them did not have such objects to distract themselves as they waited, Ryuji finding it increasingly annoying that he couldn’t connect to the Internet while in the Metaverse, Ann absentmindedly flicked through the little program Joker provided them over and over again, while Makoto and Morgana discussed their next plan of action.

“I dunno, when they’re done, I guess,” Futaba answered “I’m trying to see if I can hack into anything that’ll give us a view as to what is happening inside. Hopefully, there are cameras and a network feed of some kind that I can easily hack into,”

“And what about Senpai?” Sumire asked Futaba, who looked up from her laptop to address her.

“He’s okay,” Futaba answered, “I’ve set up some signals to track his vitals and location. Though nothing’s major’s happening now, I’ve set up alerts if there is a change in either his location or condition,”

“I doubt that any real harm would come to him,” Goro informs, and Futaba scows.

“I didn’t ask for your opinion, bird brain,” she seethed in a hushed tone, Goro acting like he hadn’t heard or cared for what she said as Goro continued, “Whoever or whatever has Ren needs him alive to continue to exist of course; their existence is too intertwined with his wellbeing, and any disruption to that can cause serious harm to either the Palace or it,”

“And what do you suppose this ‘thing’ that has Ren, is? A rogue cognition?” Yusuke said, entering the conversation as he put his small sketchbook down onto the table. Goro hesitates, his tongue pressing against the roof of his mouth.

“I-”

“It’s probably some rogue shadow or whatever, maybe a cog’ of his parents since they’re really strict towards Ren,” Ryuji interrupts Goro, “Nothing to worry about, we can probably take them on easy, especially with Joker on our side,”

“I wasn’t going to say-”

“Guys cut it out and stop bullying Crow,” Ann scolded both Futaba and Ryuji, “I know we have our differences and stuff, but we need all the help we can get if we’re gonna save Ren. That also means no interrupting and name-calling, okay?”

“I didn’t call him names,”

“And I didn’t interrupt him!” Both Ryuji and Futaba defended themselves, Goro sighing at the bickering thieves, barely expecting them to allow him to speak at all, retreating away from them to see Yusuke and Sumire still intently holding their attention towards him.

“So, what do you think it is, Crow?” Yusuke inquires politely, Sumire looking as though she has the same question in mind. Goro looks away from the both for a moment, trying to word his thoughts.

“Well, I don’t think you’ll like it either way,” he began, his gaze still distant and thoughtful, red eyes looking at the double doors as he allows himself to ponder for a moment, “I still don’t have any evidence myself, but. I distrust the shadow that roams here,”

“You mean Joker?” Sumire asked, and Goro nodded in response, “But why, Crow-senpai?”

“I’m not one to question gut feelings, but why do you suspect his shadow?” Yusuke queried Goro, “He’s been doing nothing but helping us so far. The shadow is the true self is it not? If Joker is acting kind, can’t we suspect that he is kind in turn?”

“I don’t want to appear as being crass but: I have a feeling that Joker’s hiding things from you all,”

Everyone within earshot stopped abruptly with their prior conversations, Makoto and Morgana pausing from their discussion, Ann interrupted from her scolding of Ryuji and Futaba, all of them turning to face Goro in stunned silence, some with their mouths agape.

“Joker’s… lying to us?” Ann questioned Goro carefully, eyes unnaturally wide under her mask, “A-are you sure!?”

“Are you sure about that?” Ryuji interrogated Goro, leaning forward, looking at him with suspicion, “I mean, we are his friends, and we’ve known him way longer than you,”

“Yes, I know,” Goro gasped quickly, “But I have an uneasy feeling that he’s lying to you a-”

“Joker would never lie to us,” Futaba snapped at him angrily, the thieves flinching as she hissed at Goro with such uncharacteristic anger and boldness, “He would never! You’re just, just trying to get us to not trust him, aren’t you?!”

“Oracle, I-”

“No, you shut up, this is Ren we’re talking about,” Futaba hissed, her hands curling into fists as she glared at Goro under her goggles, “He would never lie to us! He would never! You don’t know him! You tried to kill him!”

“Futaba-”

“Shu-”

The Palace abruptly trembled, the chandeliers above rattled violently, vases shattering, cognitive patrons screaming as the Phantom Thieves sprang from their seats, with a quick order from Makoto, they all dived under the small table as their surroundings shook.

“What’s going on?!” Ann cried out as she tried her best to retreat underneath the table, pulling Ryuji in as he clumsily fell forward, “Why is the Palace shaking?!”

“I don’t know, but I do know that something’s happening to Ren,” Futaba informs them, voice barely audible shaking from the tremors and her fear as her laptop beeps noisily in her lap.

“Oracle, what’s wrong!?” Sumire screamed as the tremors worsened, Futaba scrambling to look at her laptop, typing away at the keyboard as her eyes darted around the screen.

“It’s Ren!” she replied, “I don’t know what’s happening to him, but-”

Haru stumbles out from the double doors, her expression one of haste and panic, and fast as the tremors came the Palace suddenly stood still. The cowering Phantom Thieves paused as Haru fell onto the carpeted floor in a daze, lying on her side and breathing heavily, clutching her axe alongside an object in her hands. One they suspected that the reason why the quake that had hit the Palace had passed, they each emerged from under the table, excluding Futaba, who was still working away on her laptop.

“Noir! Haru, are you okay?!” Morgana exclaims as he rushes towards the fallen girl, paws glittering with green healing magic, ready to aid her, “What happened in there?! Where’s Joker?!”

“Joker...” Haru mumbles, her expression downcast at the mention of their missing friend, her eyes fixated on the carpet floor, her fingers curling with reflex. She closed her eyes temporarily, feeling suddenly, very, very tired, and she could physically feel bags forming under her eyes.

“Haru, what’s wrong?” Ann asked the girl, too occupied with worrying about her friend’s help to use their allocated codenames, swooping down to her level, kneeling alongside Morgana on the carpeted floor, “You look tired, take it easy okay?”

Haru slowly nods, as if the gesture was a Herculean task on its own, acknowledging Ann’s words as she allowed herself to be assisted by the red-wearing girl. Ann approached Haru, sliding an arm around her back, slinging Haru’s arm around her neck before lifting her up by the shoulders.

“Haru, I’m sorry if I agitate you further, but may I inquire about the glittering object you’re holding in your grasp?” Yusuke asked, pointing at the shiny purple object in the hand that slung around Ann’s shoulders.

“Just… take it,” Haru slurred, her eyes fluttering as she struggled to stay awake, her energy quickly draining as she stood there, “Please, I feel...”

Yusuke nodded, catching the crystalline object as Haru dropped it, Ryuji running by her side, helping Ann up as Haru looked as though she was about to lose consciousness, her skin flushing white.

“Is that?” Sumire gasps as Yusuke observes what he assumed to be a key Joker mentioned earlier, “Is that Noir’s mask?”

“Whatever it is, it’s definitely a key,” Futaba said, having already scanned the object in their hands with Al Azif, “It’s resonating with the door on the topmost floor, no doubt the same one that leads to the Fool’s Theatre,”

“While I do want to discuss additional things, I suggest we first get Noir out of here,” Makoto commands the others, “She is in no fighting condition, and if we were faced with another ambush like we did earlier, with Joker missing, we would be in an especially vulnerable position,”

“But, Ren-”

“We can’t go on, Skull,” Makoto shakes her head, “As much as I want to rush ahead in order to save Ren, we need to let Noir rest and regather her strength. We have plenty of time, Ren is a strong person, and we can strategize what to do next back in the real world, but for now, we need to retreat, okay?”

Ryuji opens his mouth to argue, a force look burned in his eyes, yet when he looked at Makoto’s stern, uncompromising expression he closed his mouth. He visibly winced, attempting to argue with their leader, but when he looked upon Haru’s pale, sickly face he realised that Makoto had a point.

“Okay, Queen,” he sighed defeatedly, before gesturing to Ann to follow him out of the Palace. She nodded, and while carefully supporting Haru they made their way down the stairs towards the grand foyer.

“As for the mask,” she turns to the rest of the thieves that remained in the Metaverse, “Oracle and Mona, you should hold onto the mask for the time being since you’re close to the meetup spot. I’m sure Skull and Panther would escort Noir back home just fine. As for the rest of you, we’ll discuss our next meeting session when Noir feels better and regains her strength, and Oracle and Crow; please stay behind for a bit, I need to discuss possible methods of communication between us all, if that’s okay,”

Futaba and Morgana nod in agreement, Yusuke handing the object to the girl as he leaves, Sumire giving the remaining thieves a tiny wave as they both exit the Palace.

“You aren’t leaving, Mona?” Futaba questions the cat, noticing him standing vigilantly between her and Goro.

He gives a nod and a smile. “I made a promise to Ren that if anything were to happen to him, I would be there to protect you,” he explained, Futaba giving him a puzzled look, “I mean, he didn’t, but he implied it, and that’s good enough for me,”

“Anyway,” Makoto coughed, grabbing the attention of all three of them, “Oracle, how easy is it for you to make sure our chats and calls are secure?”

  --

  The foyer of the top floor was empty compared to the rest of the building, no cognitions of people or ushers holding shadows alike wandered along the red-carpeted floor of the foyer in front of the most important auditorium in the Palace: the Fool’s Theatre.

Two red doors stood vigilant, surrounded by smooth black walls of marble, veins of gold running through the stone as red curtains hung along it, potted plants sprouting tall, green shrubs sparsely decorated the room, a golden chandelier hung in the middle, glittering beautifully in the surrounding light.

Joker emerged from the elevators that hugged the wall next to the stairs, hands casually in his pockets, having escaped the Empress Theatre he made his way back into his own. He strides across the room with long steps towards the doors, grabbing its golden handle, yet paused to inspect the velvet that decorated them. Cavities that held the keys to the theatre, won by the trials all the thieves had to face stayed empty, Joker brushing a gloved hand to where Haru’s mask would have been slotted in, before pulling the door open, it obeying its rightful master and allowed him entry, the lights of the auditorium shuttering dramatically to life.

Bathed in golden luminosity, the interior of his beloved hall glittered wonderfully in his eyes. Black, pristine leather seats lined each row along with red carpet decorated in a faint checkered pattern, golden walls and columns accenting the room and balconies, leading up to the beautiful mural that reminisced Yusuke's interpretation of Desire and Hope, brought to life as colours swirled and shifted and radiated above the grand, obsidian chandelier that dangled below it. He made his way down among the row of seats, his footsteps padded on the carpet, and with one quick motion he shot out his grappling hook, zipping across the air, before landing perfectly onto the wooden performance space.

Retracting the grappling hook and tucking his hands casually in his pockets, Joker retreated under the towering, black and gold curtains of the stage as he headed towards his dressing room.

The door to his sanctuary was located at the end of the otherwise bleak hallway, the red velvet shining against blank white doors, his name on a star-shaped door plate made of gold. He reached for the doorknob, twisting it, a soft ‘click’ echoing in the hallway as he pushed it open.

His dressing room was as luxurious as the theatre it was housed in, red and blacks decorated each crevice, white and gold accenting countertops and tables and door edges, expensive platters of food, bottles of drink, and electronics scattered across the room, all with a marble floor, gold veins accenting cracks between the rock. In the middle room, a black leather seat faced a large screen TV that was nestled comfortably within the wall, two beautifully velvet lined doors stood next to each other, leading to his bedroom and ‘office’ respectively. Closing the door behind him, Joker ignored all the temptations surrounding him completely, instead wandering towards the back of the room, where a single door lay forgotten, untouched by the same opulence which adorned its surroundings. A gloved hand on the doorknob, he twisted, flinging it open with gusto, flooding the dark monitor room with light.

“Bonjour mon invité, je suis de retour!” he called, laughing as he reached for Ren’s chair, grabbing it before he spun around to his other’s scow, Ren’s face illuminated by artificial, flickering lights. Ren did not reply, he did not want to give the satisfaction that he knew his shadow craved, yet Joker noticed his glistening wet cheeks, taking upon himself to inspect Ren’s face by suddenly grabbing his chin, his other’s eyes astonished as Joker inspected him.

“Ren, what happened to you?” Joker cooed, yet his tone lacked any real concern or warmth as he tilted Ren’s head, inspecting the glistening streaks of tears on his face, “Why did you cry? Do my plays not bring you joy?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Ren hissed as he jerked his head away from Joker’s grasp, feeling more disgusted and sicker the closer his shadow got to him, “Don’t touch me, don’t you dare touch me,”

Joker withdrew his hand back at Ren’s sudden outburst, feigning surprise at Ren’s rebellious attitude towards him, “I’m safe to assume that your tears are the result of the performances I put on for you, or perhaps from me interacting with your friends?”

“Whatever your plan is, leave them out of it,” Ren fumed, pulling on the restraints that bounded his hands, “They’ve got nothing to do with this place. I’m clearly the one you want, and I suspect you’d want to keep it that way,”

“I do,” Joker muses, “But I also want them. You see, Ren, I’ve clearly invited them here, not to steal your heart, but to save them from themselves, from this Hellish society that we all live in-”

“And you’re doing that by insulting them and brainwashing them?”

“I… didn’t mean to say those things to Haru,” Joker confessed, “But she left me no choice. If she wasn’t going to join us, I had to drive her out, I had to push her away, so she wouldn’t interfere with us, you understand right? I know you do, because you’re me,”

“I’m not you,” Ren spat, though he knew deep down his shadow was right, the words he uttered to Haru were his, thoughts he kept deep within his heart, yet he tried anyway to deny the manifestation of his darkest thoughts and feelings around him, “I’m not you,” he cried, “I’m not you,”

“But I am you,” Joker said plainly, raising his neck above to look down on Ren, both to dominate and to allow him to accommodate the intoxicating surge of power that again surged his veins, “I am thou, and I will see my - our - plan to its conclusion. Because you know why,”

“Because-”

“Because I get things done.” Joker stated, interrupting Ren as he snarled with superiority, “I always get things done. You. You get nothing done. I always do, I will succeed in our plan, I will see my play come to its intended conclusion, and I WILL get our friends to our side, so we can finally get what we deserve,”

“You won’t, because the others will stop you,” Ren said, though he quickly knew he was losing his argument the further Joker’s amused grin twitched wider, “They’ll save me, they’ll change my heart, they’ll-”

Ren choked a sob, Joker’s eyes widened abruptly, and the shadow stumbled back, clutching the red fabric of his waistcoat tightly, crashing into the wall behind him as he gasped.

It was another surge, more powerful than before, Joker groaned as his head spun, dizzying sensations clutched his consciousness as his eyesight blurred, tears welling up the corners of his eyes, and he could feel his heart twist in his chest. It was the same feeling he’d experience with Haru, the same sensations he felt taunting his other, yet as he looked at the horrified expression Ren had on his face with forgotten tears freshly streaking his face did he finally realise where these sensations came from.

Joker laughed as the surge fizzled away as fast as it had arrived as he sat on the floor, lying against the wall as he looked at Ren who was dumbfounded by what he just had witnessed. Joker allowed himself to relax before he clambered back onto his feet, the surge leaving him a shaky mess as he supported himself with a hand on the wall. He took a minute for himself gathering his breaths as he slumped against the wall, all the while Ren observed him with perplexed, fearful eyes.

“Hah, what a revelation,” Joker exclaimed breathlessly, straightening his posture and turning to Ren, “To think we learned something about the Metaverse during our chats, and I thought Mona had told us everything,”

“You’re insane, you really are,”

“Hmm, I wouldn’t describe myself as such,” Joker shrugged, “Then again, I’m-”

“Don’t say it,”

“Then don’t make me,” Joker laughs before turning towards the exit, a hand resting on the doorknob, “Anyway, I’ll make sure to get you some water so you don’t dehydrate yourself, and in something that you can’t easily smash or use to spill onto the controls,” he added, “I’m not an idiot.”

With his last remark, Joker closed the door behind him, leaving Ren alone with the numerous screens, some of them empty, some of them with plays that played repeatedly, and some of them looping footage of Haru’s saddened expression, of his friends, fighting and bickering. He closed his eyes, trying to drown the incessant chatter that surrounded him.

But he had hope. Hope for his friends in reaching him, hope that he was able to hold his sanity together, hope that they’d change his heart, that they’ll persevere, that they’ll be able to fight through whatever his twisted Palace had in store for them, and whatever Joker had prepared for them.

Because, he knew he had to, or allow his twisted heart to consume him entirely.

FLOWER MEANINGS Sunflower - Respect, Passionate Love, Radiance. Iris - Good News,Glad Tidings, Loyalty Gentle - Gentle. Daffodil - Respect. Carnation - Fascination, Distinction, and Love Anemone - Protection from evil, Forsaken, Expectations. White Rose - Innocence, Silence, Devotion. Narcissus - Self-Esteem Cyclamen and Sweet Pea - Resignation, Good-bye. Lotus -  Purity, Chastity. Marigold - Grief, Despair, Jealousy / God’s Perfect Light. Red Spider Lily - Never to meet again, Lost memory, Abandonment TRANSLATE Bonjour mon invité, je suis de retour - Hello my guest, I have returned.

[imaginesofeverykind]

Oh Partner, My Partner || Chloe Frazer x Elena Fisher

[literally the only gif i could find with the two of them together omfg — yall i wish these two had more scenes together]

This took so LONG because I had no idea how to write these two best gals without them just trauma bonding over how much of a shit Nathan is lmaooooo I might have to do a part 2 idkkk man 👀👀

Request: Hello! I just saw your post about fanfic requests. Can you write something for chloe x elena (as a ship) from uncharted? Please. Thank you!

Words: 1.7k 

Warnings: None ! Just a bitta flirting 

“Step on it! We got Company!”

Everything was a complete blur, happening in rapid succession that it was nearly impossible to process. Elena Fisher had partaken in her fair share of shoot outs, some incredibly similar to the current situation she was in, the difference now was merely semantics.

She barrelled down the narrow walkway, ancient ruins encompassing the way out in a claustrophobic manner. If the circumstances didn’t call for panic and nimble feet, she’d take a moment to admire yet another long lost civilisation in her wake.

Gunshots echoed through as the army-for-hire attempted to hit the two figures, the two barely managing to exit the choke point and out into the open.

Elena took a moment to catch her breath, lamenting on the fact she could never simply get a story nowadays without being shot at. Her eyes trailed over to her partner — who was equally out of breath, however urged her to press onward.

“C’mon, take one of their trucks, we’ll be lucky if we hit the nearest town before they tail us.” Chloe Frazer motioned for her companion to follow, as unlikely as the pairing had been, the two women found each other’s company much more bearable than initially expected.

Of course, it wasn’t without needing something the other had. Elena had been stumped just days prior at the prospect of losing a big story after her source had been unceremoniously blown up — quite literally. It just so happened that the bar she weighed out her options had also been the same bar the familiar Australian woman had been on the lookout for her next big break.

The two hijacked one of the unmanned vehicles, tearing up some of the lush terrain as they made their quick escape. Both looking back with wide smiles at the near death experience turn successful lift and having enough proof to run a highly intriguing article.

“I can’t believe we did that!” Elena laughed out loud, her heart still thundering in her chest while the adrenaline surged through her. Her hands gripped the edge of her seat as she beamed at her companion, who was rather proud of the work they completed today.

Chloe weaved the truck in and out of major obstacles, having some indication where they needed to go in order to get to town, “we make a pretty good team, don’t we?”

The blonde was taken aback by the compliment, a light blush painting her cheeks as she flustered to find an answer. In the short few years she’d known Chloe, it was clear that the Australian was hard to impress, rarely allowing anyone in too close. To hear her point it out was an honour.

“Y-yeah… I think we did great.” Elena beamed, her eyes lingering over her partner a little too long.

“I knew I liked you for a reason,” Chloe raised her brow, her eyes trailing back and forth from watching the road to her passenger.

It was a miracle they managed to both make it out alive and managed to get enough evidence for the journalist, unlike other times which resulted into her having to sacrifice her story just to make it out alive.

This time was different, and both of them were aware of that major difference; No Nathan Drake. As much as they equally admired and appreciated his heroic efforts, they couldn’t deny the fact he was quite literally the worst treasure hunter. Somehow, someway always finding the ability to blow up his latest find in some spectacular feat.

Without him in the picture, it was unexpectedly easy to pull off the job.

In the several days finding the next lead, following the trail of some illicit blackmarket group, Elena saw a side to Chloe she was quite happy to see. That sentiment also applied for the Australian, no longer believing the outspoken journalist was as bothersome in her regard.

The two had driven for the most part of two hours, ditching the truck somewhere ambiguous while they trekked the rest of the way into town. The dark haired woman praying that their plane ride out of the secluded outback town was still available, wanting to get the hell out of dodge as soon as possible.

With the harsh summer sun beating down on them, the trek felt much longer than it actually was, the American completely out of her comfort zone as she watched in envy at her companion who was seemingly unbothered by the heat. Elena fanned her face with one hand and held up the other to alleviate the glare from the sun, cursing herself for not thinking to bring sunglasses — of all things.

Chloe looked back in amusement, finding it funny that her partner was sweltering in the blistering heat, “bit hot, love?” The facetious tone not at all deterring the glare she got in response, merely laughing more as she wipes away the sweat beading on her neck.

She pointed lazily ahead, “town’s not too far away — won’t melt on me, will you?”

Elena squinted at her, only because she was so conveniently placed right by the sun, “y’know what, I just might.” She panted, taking a short breather.

The local stifled a laugh, “c’mon hot stuff, that article of yours won’t write itself,” she strode ahead, not particularly overthinking her comment coupled as she could just spot the town ahead.

“Here I was thinkin’ I’d catch a break from the shameless flirting… must be a common trait among thieves.” Elena was smug, catching up with her strides as she walked in sync with Chloe. The statement was purely a soft jab at the way people in this specific profession tend to talk to one another.

“Oh — was I not being clear enough?” Chloe retorted, an equally as complacent smirk on her face, even more so upon noticing the flustered look on the blonde's face, “I’ll be more obvious next time, love.”

It was hard to determine whether or not she was being sarcastic, her accent lent little to the imagination with the monotonous drawl, but her sultry tone of voice often always contradicted the accent. As someone who knew her relatively well, how she spoke to other people and carried herself; Elena was still confused.

Maybe the flirty comments were always so obvious when she was directing them elsewhere, then again, Elena was sure that it was simply a shared trait among the many within this business.

Truth be told, the only other person who had attempted to charm her was Nathan, and his measly endeavors were so blatantly obvious it was borderline cringeworthy. She could barely count Harry Flynn as an eligible contender considering he tried to blow the lot of them up.

She wasn’t sure why she was so stuck in her thoughts about it, she was an adult after all and didn’t need to overthink every single remark made her way. Yet here she was, the familiar feeling bubbling up inside her all the while her partner walked in a proud strut.

“I’m sorry — are you joking? I - I really can’t tell if you’re pulling my leg.” Elena eventually spoke out, deciding that the adult approach was the best way to feed into Chloe’s zero bullshit, blunt attitude. She was well aware now wasn’t the time to be having a conversation like this, and typically she’d be happy to let the comments fly by with having a witty retort. This time felt more urgent, like she needed to know before proceeding further.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Chloe winked, jogging up ahead as they entered into the small isolated town. Elena laughed to herself, finding a sense of relief fill her from that sufficient answer. If she was being completely honest, she hadn’t met anyone quite like Chloe before but she had an alluring aura, even when she was being unlikeable; one couldn’t help but be drawn to her. Elena was no exception.

Nevermind that the pair of them looked like they actively fought some of the native wildlife, the two of them disregarding odd looks thrown their way as they casually strolled down the main street.  

The local ushered her companion into a dingy old pub that definitely looked like it wasn’t up to code — if that even existed this far in isolation. The town itself was home to one grocery store, two pubs, an abysmal excuse for a doctors office and one lousy looking police station that sat surrounded by approximately twenty-six houses.

Inside the pub was not much different than outside; muggy with a thick musk scent that mixed with the aroma of sweat from the patrons. Elena must have pulled a face subconsciously, earning a chuckle from her partner as she guided her through the building, “mining towns aren’t all they chalk up to be, aye? Poor bastards leave their families for months at a time to live in luxury at a shit hole like this.”

“Yeah — I guess you could say that…” Elena nervously laughed, not a big fan of the way the workers were eyeing them suspiciously. She wasn’t quite sure if they were looking at them because they were quite clearly outsiders, or for some other reason.

“Stop your worryin’, love — you got me to protect you.” Chloe flashed her a smile, opening the backdoor to the sweet sight of their getaway plane. The makeshift airport was barely manned, only passing the odd pilot or two on their way to greet their pilot.

Elena looked around cautiously, knowing that typically this was the part of the job where they get ambushed; then again, they had pulled this job off without the antagonising presence of Nathan Drake, so the likelihood of something like that happening was incredibly low. It wasn’t his fault he had an undeniable knack for pissing off the ‘bad guys’ effortlessly.

Seeing that she wasn’t in the conversation, Chloe reached over to her and softly grabbed Elena’s hand, “Tommo’s ‘bout ready to leave, you still with us?”

The blonde snapped out of her preemptive panic, giving her partners hand a squeeze as she nods, “only if you’ll have me.”

“I think I’ll keep you around a bit longer.”

[cowboahhoe]

The Viper - Arthur Morgan x Reader

A quick imagine, could do more parts if you want?

Warnings: mention of abuse

Summary: upon fleeing an abusive relationship, the reader finds themselves being chased by lawmen, bounty hunters and a few members of the Van Der Linde Gang after a night in Valentine.

(gif credits to whoever owns it)

———————————————————

The last few months had been far less than ideal for you. You were on the run from the law, just you and your horse Nellie. You hadn't ever foreseen your life going this way - you had always been for all intents and purposes a good girl. That was until you had met your first husband, Blake. Your birth father had decided that money meant a lot more to him than his only daughters life, so he had sold you to the highest bidder which seemed like an outdated and abusive practice; even in 1899. Blake had money in oil, and used you as arm candy but had no real love or respect for you. You were nothing more than a maid, house wife, punching bag and toy for his sexual pleasures for far too long. One fateful night your fuse had been lit, and you fought back. A shroud of red flooded your body as you pointed his own pistol between his eyes - finally feeling power against the vile man who had held you captive for a year, and you felt no remorse in applying pressure to the trigger.

The next few moments went by in a blur, you had packed a bag with all the money yourself and Blake had around - alongside necessities such as food, and weapons. After packing your loyal horse, you had faded into the night. Leaving Saint Denis, heading west. You knew there would be repercussions for your actions but there was no way to tell just how intense the manhunt would be for you, nor how large the price on your head would be for one small murder. $500 for your return to Saint Denis alive meant that you'd come across your fair share of bounty hunters in your time living off the land; you quickly realised you could only trust yourself, and your horse. This brings us to your lonely (but free) present day.

You sit in the saloon in Valentine nursing a whisky, your third of the evening. You'd been in an around the Valentine area for a few days and knew it was only a matter of time before you had to move along and set up somewhere else. Perhaps Rhodes? Although you quickly shake the thought from your mind - that may just be too close to the scene of the crime. Just as you suckle the final dregs from your glass, you spot a curious group of men walking into the saloon. You daren't take your eyes off of them, memorising every feature behind every person in the group, you want to be able to recall their identities should you need to 'silence' them. One man wore a black hat, black hair slicked with pomade and nearly down to his shoulders. He wore a black coat, and a black vest with a red breast pocket. This man seemed to have an unmatched charisma; this much you could tell simply from the way he stood. This wasn't an innocent man. Then again, who is? Next to him, a slightly smaller, scrawnier gent. With grey hair, and wearing a blue vest this man seemed to have kinder eyes, which may just be part of his play. Finally, a rugged man wearing a black hat, detailed with brown rope - you noted the bullet hole in the rim of the hat. He wore a tattered, dirty blue working shirt, and wore worn black trousers with cotton suspenders tying it all together. Although, with this man you struggle to focus so much on the clothes that cover his broad frame and pay particular attention to his features. Sandy brown hair, a messy - somewhat scratchy looking beard. The beard had a few holes in, which seemed to be due to the placement of some scars; the most prominent of which was on his chin. Then there came those eyes. Even from across the saloon you could tell they were bright blue with a twinge of green. The handsome man simply dipped on his beard whilst the other two men spoke quietly to the group, he didn't seem like the leader of the trio by any means, but it didn't seem that was important.

Just then, blue eyes looks at you and makes eye contact while taking another swig from his beer. For a moment, you're worried he may have recognised you but that fear quickly diminishes when he simply nods his head your way and turns his attention back to his friends. With new found courage, you move toward the bar. Intent on ordering a new beverage when you hear the black haired man pull something from his satchel, and start speaking to the man with grey hair in a hushed tone.

"Hosea, I told you. She's the viper, the one they want in Saint Denis... our boy John was right. We hand her in, it's a good honest days work" the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, as you realise your time in Valentine is over - that and you need to play the next few minutes very wisely.

"I don't know Dutch, doesn't it seem unfair we're using a woman's bounty to help us flee our own misfortunes with the law?" Scrawny replies, suddenly he has become your favourite of the bunch. Blue eyes doesn't chime in at all, but you can feel his eyes on you as you stand at the bar, awaiting a cue to either whip out your pistol or flee the scene.

Adrenaline pumping through your veins, you decide the best solution is to try and slip away whilst the group argue about your fate. You know that they're outlaws, and if there are three outlaws coming after you... then you probably don't stand much of a chance. You make a beeline for the entrance, and whistle for your horse as soon as you reach the open air feeling the eyes of Dutch, Hosea and blue eyes on you as you make your exit. The unmistakable shuffle of boots accompany your exit, and you know that the men are right on your tail - the discussion of your fate seemed to be silence by your exit and only one objective remained. Get her.

You hop on the back of your horse, Nellie. She's an Arabian White and so you prayed that whatever horses this band of thieves had were slower than your girl. In seconds, you were off. You had made a instant decision to head in the direction of Emerald Ranch, hoping to lose them on the way then loop back round and head west toward Strawberry - although admittedly tactic wasn't at the forefront of your mind. Fight or flight had well and truly kicked in and you knew you needed to get away, far away. The thunderous chorus of hooves colliding with the hard ground rung through the night as the three horses chased your dear girl a cross the plains of the heartlands. Admittedly, you should have gone up through Cumberland forest as there was more cover to hide and slip away undetected. Though you had come across bounty hunters, and lawmen you had never come across a group of outlaws intent on handing you in and so the city girl who lived within you shook in her boots, and used instinct and not her brain when plotting which escape route to take.

"We just wanna talk miss" Dutch called in the dark.

"Like fuck you do Mister, I heard y'all talking about taking ma bounty" you curse back; relying a lot on your horses innate sense of direction to guide you through the hills and trying to guide her to help you both disappear. One of the men take a shot at the floor near your horse, probably trying to spook her but being that your horse is tough as nails she barely bats an eyelid.

"C'mon miss we really don't wanna hurt ya" an unfamiliar voice shouts. You realise this must be the man with blue eyes, his rough voice matches his rugged appearance well - although you don't have much time to think about the dreamy mans voice as you hear the whirl of a lasso from behind you.

You duck, and make unpredictable movements on Nellie in order to avoid the grip of the rope around your body. You feel silent panicked tears roll down your cheeks as you realise your luck had run out; not knowing your fate with these three outlaws. Just then, the rope whips itself around you and you're pulled from your seat and thrown against the floor. Your head collided with a rock, making you see stars as your horse comes to a stop and stands beside you as if waiting for you to get back up. She doesn't realise this is likely your final ride. The three men come to a stop, and blue eyes hog ties you with the lasso before turning you onto your back.

All three men stood over you, as you shook and tears leaked from your eyes.

"take me then, I don't regret what I did to him. He deserved it more than anyone I have ever known" I spit with venom.

"My dear, did the countless bounty hunters, lawmen and innocent folk who got in your way deserve the same end?" Dutch replies. Bending his knees to move closer to your face so he is crouched over you as you lay on the dirt staring up at the night sky.

"If someone tried to have you swing for self defence and would you roll over and let them take you? Or would you fight?" You respond. Looking the man right in the eyes. Giving him the coldest look you can muster up while your cheeks are stained with tears. Dutch chuckles, looking up at Hosea and Blue eyes with a jovial expression.

"Darlin' im gonna give you a choice. You can go to Saint Denis and swing, or... you can come join us. We're a group of misfits and outcasts and we're always in need of more guns. You'd have to earn your keep, of course but from what I've heard you've had no issue wrangling an income for yourself."

"Dutch is that really wise? We have plenty of people to feed we could just let the poor lady go?" Blue eyes replies to Dutch. Causing him to whip his head up.

"Enough, Arthur! She can help in ways most of those women back at camp won't, besides - If she outstays her welcome we could always take her on a trip to Saint Denis." He smiles down at you while making his threat.

"I'll go with you." You reply begrudgingly. Whenever you can make it happen, you'll escape their camp. But for now this beats swinging.

"Well then, Arthur would you be so kind as to place this fine lady on the back of your horse?" Dutch says, walking over to his own beautiful steed.

"I have a horse of my own I can ride!" You shout back to him as Arthur removes me from the floor and places you face down on his horse.

"I know, but I don't want to risk you cutting off before meeting everyone and seeing how we do things. I happen to think you'll like it once you're not all tied up" he laughs. Arthur makes sure you're well seated before getting on his horse and coaxing it into moving to follow Dutch and Hosea. You whistle for your own horse who follows behind, with all your belongings.

"I'm sorry about this miss, uh, miss..." Arthur begins. Making it clear he knows you as only your pseudonym of 'the viper'.

"Y/N, just call me Y/N Viper" you respond, already out of breath from the movement of the horse pressing up against your chest and stomach. Compressing you're ability to breathe.

"well miss Viper, we have quite a ride ahead" Arthur replies, you huff in response and Arthur chuckles. Kicking the horse into moving a bit faster so as to catch up with Dutch and Hosea. You glance back at your beautiful horse and watch as loyally follows behind you.

Rolling your eyes, you exhale again.

This is going to be a long night.

________________________

Needless to say I hope you liked this? Can do additional parts if you want, or I mean if you have any ideas please feel free to let me know. I'm not sure how tumblr works so idk comment or message any ideas or recommendations or anything if you feel like it.

ALSO do let me know if you think this is trash because I’d rather know I just was having a touch of fun writing a little bit this evening. I’m also pregnant and my brain is completely useless so I really appreciate feedback 💖

Thanks so much 💖

[starman-john-tracy]

Radiation Poisoning | Chapter Two

by @starman-john-tracy and @asteria-star

In which John Tracy gets exposed to uranium and nearly dies, The Hood is evil, and Star generally freaks out a lot.

[Chapter One] [Chapter Three]

Star nods at him, bringing up her own scanner, just to prove it’s there. The readings are well and truly in the green. She sighs.

“Well then, we’d better get a move on.”

She’s not even embarrassed about the fact she clings to him on the way over anymore, thin fingers hooked into the gaps between his sash and his body. It’s quiet out there, just the sound of her breathing and John’s own, transmitting through the speaker by her ear with a slight crackle of interference.

The other ship is big, bigger than Thunderbird Five, looming out of the darkness like the titanic through fog, destined to sink. Star tries peering around, looking to see if the explosion is evident from the outside, but to her it just looks… abandoned. But John knows where he’s going, John leads the way.

As they arrive John gently peels her fingers from his sash and takes them in his own, leading her by the hand around the hull. A dark maw of broken, twisted metal, with jagged teeth and a black insides, greets them - evidently where the ship has been blown open by the explosion. Debris floats in a solemn cloud around the opening, bits and pieces of anything that wasn’t strapped down have been sucked out into space, along with ripped, mangled pieces of the ship’s hull. A big shard of metal bumps against John’s hip and he twists to kick it away from them before it can do any damage. The radiation scanner bleeps at his wrist. Dark green, rising.

There’s no sign of any occupants.

“Broadcasting all frequencies, this is International Rescue.” There’s a beat of a pause as John anticipates a response. There is none. “This facility appears to be leaking dangerous nuclear radiation, the two people onboard are strongly advised to abandon ship while we seal up the leak.”

The creak of the metal hull is the only kind of response he gets. It reminds him, eerily, of the Eden. The ghost ship. The fine hairs at the back of his neck prickle. He squeezes Star’s hand, just a little, though it’s not clear if he realises he’s doing it.

“This is International Rescue.” He tries again, “Are you receiving us?”

Still nothing. Odd. His shoulders roll through a shrug, and he turns a smile toward Star to reassure her, very aware that she’s far out of her comfort zone. He’s yet to let go of her hand for this reason.

“Perhaps their radio’s are damaged.” He suggests, optimistically, unaware that the occupants are far too busy to be checking something as trivial as the radio. “Let’s head inside and see if we can do something about all this leaking radiation, ok?”

‘If I end up getting haunted by some space ghost going in here, I’m going to be very upset,’ Star tells him, hand still squeezing his bony fingers. Every now and again they squeeze back, wrangling her nerves into something resembling okay. The hulking great mass of metal and charred edges looks dangerous, the very fact it was used as something other than a war machine seemed impossible. Damaged radio. Yeah, like hell, whoever is over there knows there’ll be consequences once they’re found.

Star’s gloved hand comes away black when she hooks her fingers around the wounded metal to drag herself inside. It’s somehow colder than being out in the dark expanse of nothingness outside, and Star tells herself that’s why she shivers, that it’s not the feeling of being watched. John is going to owe her at least three screenings of dumb war movies when we’re done here, she thinks, and he’s not allowed to complain about my country music on the speakers any more.

Regardless of John’s hand her own, Star almost turns tail and runs at what they find inside.... She’d have taken him with her. There’s been an explosion, yes, but there was no way to even pretend that it had been an accident now that she’s seeing it with her own two eyes. The actual fuel compartment is relatively empty, a sodding great hole blasted through the reinforced steel, but the storage vault that must have held back up canisters is hanging ominously open, a localised blast in the centre of the locking mechanism, canisters of radioactive poison spread far and wide. It looks like someone had been rummaging through the stock, and it looks like more than a handful are leaking.

“I’m starting to think the crowbar might have been a good idea,” Star murmurs, looking to John for what to do next, because she has no idea how to even begin to fix this.

“There’s no such thing as ghosts.” John murmurs, offhand, distracted. His eyes comb over damaged machinery and twisted metal - searching amongst the drifting detritus for signs of life or the source of the radiation, as he glides in alongside her. “And if there were,” He adds, “no ghost caused this.” There’s a shake of his head as he checks the instruments at his wrist, “No heat signatures on short range either. They must be further in.”

It’d be nice to have gravity, but like most of the stations systems, the artificial reproduction of it seems to be offline. There're no lights or door sensors or, as John gathers from his scans, there's no breathable air being pumped around the space station.

“You alright?” He looks across to Star to check, releasing her hand from the safety of his grip so that he can comb his fingers over the panelling, caught up in the crudity of the historical 2040s design. There’s a partially open door out to their left, leading deeper into the Xz197.

Star nods absently at his question, not taking her eyes off the ruined lock. She knows a break in when she sees one. Looking up at her, John finds himself following her eyeline with interest.

The broken-into cabin off to the opposite side of the door is clearly some kind of old storage vault, with a few rows of refueling canisters still there, all sinisterly labelled with big, black radiation symbols.

“Right, you stay here and keep an eye out for anyone for me,” John says, already ducking under the open bulkhead for a closer look inside. The little gauge at his wrist ticks up a level, moving to a pale greenish orange. “The metal around the breach was all twisted inwards, like it was pushed from the outside in,” Even as he gets further away, his voice remains clear over the radio, as if he were still floating right next to her, “I think someone caused the explosion specifically to get in here,” He’s evidently caught onto what she’s thinking, “People who are allowed aboard these things usually use an access hatch, which means these guys are either thieves or very, very lost.” That could almost be a joke from John Tracy, though it’s delivered so deadpan it’s hard to tell. “I’m just gonna seal up these tanks as best I can. I’ve got plenty of solder, it won’t take me long. Hang tight Star.”

The radiation bumps up to a light orange, warning. John sets to work, head down, tracing cracks in thick, old metal containers. Green smudges on the blue of his fingers, and he tracks where the solder needs to go. It’s lucky his spacesuit is made of some pretty strong stuff.

Suddenly, Star hears what could only be the scrape of moving metal somewhere aboard the station, reverberating into their conjoined rooms. Somewhere, someone has moved something heavy, and it wasn’t John, who's still diligently working away. The slightly open doorway to her left is a strong candidate for where the sound came from.

“John,” Star says in a low, even voice, not needing to shout for the radio to pick up her words. The sound has come from the door across the room, left ajar by someone; perhaps in a hasty retreat, or absently, carrying stolen radioactive material, unaware they’d just been walked in on. “I can hear someone moving around out here.’

She drifts to the broken door John is behind and peers in the gap. She can see him working away, see the radiation scanner flickering orange while her own stays a nearly-safe green. The grating shriek rattles the ship's skeleton again, and when Star’s head snaps around to look, she has no doubt it has come from behind the other door.

“Finish what you’re doing,” Star tells John, reaching for a length of ruined pipe that’s almost as thick and long as her arm, plucking it out of the air. “I’m going to see who this is, don’t stay in there any longer than you have to, alright?”

Hooking her fingers into the seams of the wall, Star starts dragging herself to investigate the sound.

"You can what?" He sounds worried about the fact she’s heard something he hasn’t, "I… Alright," He agrees reluctantly. It makes sense for her to check it out while he himself continues working. The radiation leak is the priority. John's already got a long strip of solder out and has flipped down the sun visor on his helmet so that he can start welding up the splits in the metal, with the intention of making the canisters safe to move out for proper disposal. "The mess out there looks like it was a pretty big explosion. There could be someone injured who needs our help."

Because of course he's worried about who they might need to rescue, instead of thinking that anyone could possibly want to harm a couple of miscellaneous astronauts, who are most definitely barging in on their plans. It’s probably lucky that John hasn’t spotted the length of pipe Star’s grabbed. A well-placed, or misplaced, blow from that thing to a spacesuit, helmet or oxygen tank could not just incapacitate but kill the wearer.

And IR happens to be very against killing the people they’re here to save, even if they are up to no good.

“Be careful.” John does take a second to warn her, not completely complacent, as she’s ducking through the door - though he doesn’t look up from his task as he says it, the first thin silver line of solder stopping up the leak. “Be quick and quiet and let me know what you find. I’ll keep the radio channel open.” He’d never leave her completely alone out here, after all. She can hear the reassuring, soft in and out of his breathing in her ear as a silence falls between them.

The corridor is long and dark, tubes and wires lining its walls and plenty of hook rungs over head to hold onto while the station is without gravity. It’s quite different from the spaces of Five, but the weightless, floating feeling does remain the same wherever out here.

Bulkheads open and close creakily at her touch and there’s a whole number of little rooms off the main corridor. A dark little lab, a room of cramped, ugly bunk beds, a galley with a small kitchenette. This station must have been a grand thing in its heyday. Grand, but with a sinister purpose. Instead of the scientific curiosity and wonder that should have come with humanity breaching the edge of space and actually living there, the Xz197 and a small number crafts like it, were built instead for lording over the lesser people far, far below. Designed to carry a payload of deadly chemicals and waiting for an excuse to use them. The war itself was apparently excuse enough.

Just what kind of people had lived up here? Could people willing to deploy such weapons even really be called people at all?

The savagery of the wars of the 2040s had, at the time, been a sticking point for moon-locked Astronaut Jeff Tracy, for sure. It’s easy to imagine John’s father young and fierce and furious with the whole madness and pointless cruelty of it. The era of peace and the formation of the United Nations and the GDF and later the Thunderbirds that had followed all seem, in the light of it, almost like a rebellion against the savage ideas of their forefathers.

There’s not a single weapon aboard any of the Thunderbirds, despite that being exactly what some people who want to get their hands on them would use them for. The image of Two decked out with machine guns would be utterly horrifying to all of them.

At the end of the corridor, the space opens out into a shuttle bay and… There! There’s a slim, shadowed figure with a black spacesuit and a dark, silver striped helmet that cleverly obscures his face. He’s busy loading small black canisters into crates, evidently to be put aboard a smaller, much newer ship that’s docked here. He doesn’t seem to notice Star’s silent, floating presence behind him.

Suddenly, there’s a cut off: “What the…?” and a sharp, startled gasp of John’s breathing, loud enough over Star’s speakers to be heard outside of her helmet. It means this section of the ship must have an oxygen supply, but it also means she has bigger problems.

It’s not that Star's brain doesn’t predict the consequences of her actions, it’s just that she doesn’t care. John gasps, and Star forgoes any thought of her own danger, head snappy around to look back in his direction, calling out his name.

“John?”

Of course, if the masked man had, by some miracle, not heard John, he’d definitely heard her.

“Oi! You!” The man’s head has snapped up, and he’s staring right at her, “What d’you think you’re doin’ on ‘ere!” The canisters get discarded and the man -whoever he is- lunges at the intruder. John hasn’t immediately responded, sending a sick spike of worry through her chest that leaves no patience or concern for the man coming for her.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” she tells him, bracing herself feet under the lip of a peeling sheet of flooring. He keeps advancing on her. She tries the John Tracy method of de-escalation again. “Who are you?”

Old Mirror-Helmet doesn’t offer up an answer. He’s reaching for a weapon at his hip, and Star doesn’t know enough about space-pirates to tell if it's an earth gun the idiot is hoping will fire, or something that will actually do some damage. ‘Okay, fine,’ Star tells him. With her feet braced against the floor, Star manages to swing her length of pipe with enough momentum to land the blow with a sickening crunch against the man's outstretched arm.

Judging by the way he shrieks, Star assumes he wishes he’d listened to her. The man's suit doesn’t seem damaged, the weapon floating outside of arms reached, released by damaged fingers, and Star works quickly. She’s got John's space-repair version of cable ties in the pocket of her sash and uses them to tie the still shocked man to a pipe against the wall. She snarled at the man. “What have you done?”

John still hasn’t responded. “John? John, answer me! Are you okay?”

"What the hell?!? I'm jus' doin' my job!" The man she's zip-tied, howling, to a radioactive space station protests at her. "What have you done?" She can hear the scowl in his voice. "I think you've broke me bloody arm! Boss said there wasn't goin’ t'be anyone aboard, said this old wreck was abandoned, nngh, years ago." He twists in place, trying to relieve some of the pressure on his definitely-broken arm. "Are yew pirates?" He demands, "And who the hell is John?" He adds; an afterthought ground out through audibly gritted teeth. He swears again explosively, evidently preoccupied with the pain. "The boss'll get you for this."

“I’m going to go ahead and advise that you get a new job,” Star snarls, tightening the cord around his wrist until there isn’t a breath of wriggle room. “If you behave I might even send someone up here to collect you, before your oxygen runs out.”

In her defence, the knock she gives the man to the head is only enough to knock him out. No permanent damage, she doesn’t think…

There's nothing but crackling feedback inside Star's helmet. John doesn't respond to her calling his name, but she can still hear him breathing, short and sharp. There’s a step of what could be feet kicking a solid surface and John groans, low, in her ear.

John still hasn’t said a word, but for the minute, Star can hear him breathing, hear him moving around, hear him moaning. Star can hear her own panting, slightly panicked breathing over it all, but before she can go pelting after him, her eyes catch the trolley of uranium canisters loaded into the shuttle. We’re International rescue, we’re here to help, echoes in the back of her mind, and Star curses John's contagious conscience.

‘Goddammit John,’ she growls, turning away from the direction to save him, hoping he can hold his own for a moment longer, and gets to work.

Back over in the canister storage room John is trying to work out just what had hit him. Or more accurately, who. A shadowy figure had dropped from a hatch above him with enough force to slam the unsuspecting Tracy down hard against the floor, his head ricocheting inside his helmet with concussive force and the half-sealed canister he was working on tumbling from his grip in the process. It rolls, weightless and leaking, in the air between them.

There's a heavy whirring somewhere as something deep within the bowels of the ship grinds online and the thick, heady weight of old, artificial gravity drags all the occupants down toward the floor. The oxygen reserves seem to have kicked in onboard as well, but they do little good where John is, with the huge whole in the hull leaking the precious O2 right out into space, with no door between him and the void.

Star’s sensors would pick it up though.

"Ah, finally." Says a horribly familiar voice, somewhere above John - who’s finding the sudden gravity less helpful for orienting himself than expected. "I was beginning to think that it would never finish warming up.” They comment and the toe of a dark boot jams under John’s helmet, rotating his head upward, forcing his neck over at an odd angle, “Well now, what do we have here?"

Ginger lashes flutter open only to be faced with a helmet-shadowed face that he sees in bad dreams more often than he’d like to admit. Only the man is not looming and holographic, but flesh-and-blood real: watching him intently, calculatingly with sharp yellow eyes.

The Hood takes in the orange sash and shocked face and grins.

[desktopdust]

Phantom Network: Malware Uninstall

A common question bandied about in regards to the Phantom Network is how a bunch of (insert adjectives like “lowlife” or “no good dirty”, etc) thieves manage to work together without constantly stabbing each other in the back. Yes, I’ll admit, even I didn’t quite understand it back when I was but a wee passive civilian living a mundane life, but I now realize this was only because I grossly misunderstood what a Phantom Thief is.

Most often, you hear “thief” and you picture someone taking something for themselves--a selfish hoarder who collects by any means necessary.  A Phantom Thief, however, has more noble goals in mind...and a flair for the dramatic. Bit of a tangent, but important to note. You see, Phantom Thieves don’t steal for themselves: they steal for others.  We take from the rich and give to the poor and all that jazz, because even if it’s only a drop in the ocean of wealth the elites have built up, the act of stealing from them proves that they aren’t invincible.  It’s all too easy to feel powerless in this world.  But when those with power aren’t able to stop regular people from knocking them down a peg, you get a tiny bit of hope, and more often than you might expect, that tiny bit of hope can make all the difference. Those dedicated to making that happen join the Phantom Network with a simple vow: “honor among thieves”.

Usually, that’s enough.  But no organization is inherently pure, and no matter what your goals are (especially when you’re working outside the law), it’s only natural you’ll attract some folks who are in it for the wrong reasons.  And that’s what we have the FW Protocol for!  If a thief is found to have no honor, the Protocol strips them of their privileges and finds the safest way to expunge them from the organization.  We don’t go as far as to execute somebody, but with how difficult memory deletion is to pull off, lifetime imprisonment is a fairly common result.  The system works...most of the time.  The Protocol can’t be too aggressive, so it usually waits for someone else to file a complaint.  But, with the whole “honor” thing, a lot of good Phantom Thieves won’t feel right ratting on their colleagues unless they go way over the line, at which point they’ve probably already caused an incident and have the Protocol on their tail.  Plenty of thieves manage to operate in that gray area, serving themselves without pissing anyone off too much...and I’ve all too frequently had the pleasure of dealing with one such individual.

Kari always pushed the limits even of that gray area.  But it’s rare to find someone who can competently manipulate time, so she wasn’t entirely wrong in thinking that the Network needed her.  Even after being betrayed over and over, I still haven’t filed a complaint, because she hasn’t outright ruined any job she’s been on and I don’t want to resort to drastic measures just for being personally wronged.  Like I said, honor among thieves.  I had decided to just put the whole thing behind me, not work with or even think about her ever again, but...things took a bit of a turn.

The “courtroom” we have at HQ is rarely used, so it’s a bit cramped.  I practically had to wedge myself into the corner as I took my seat and waited for things to kick off.  Opposite the door, the Phantom Network Admin sat at a blocky steel desk: a broad-shouldered, dark-skinned individual with a cyan bionic eye and metal down one half of their face, the other partly obscured by their many red curls.  Between us were four lightly-armored folks who each wore solid red shades, and in the midst of them, Kari, with a jamming bolt stuck to her alchemar between her shoulder blades and shackles on her wrists.

“Phantom Thief Kari, the Epoch Swindler,” the Admin said.  “Following the recent incident at Navy Canyon, the FW Protocol has conducted an investigation and found you in violation of your vow as a Phantom Thief.  What do you have to say in your own defense?”

Kari adjusted her bangs with a puff of air.  “Listen boss, I know I’m not exactly a paragon of virtue--honor isn’t something that comes all that easily to me.  But have I really done anything that awful?  I’m still serving the essential functions of a Phantom Thief, and none of my transgressions have impeded operations in any meaningful way.”  Under her breath, she added, “Until Navy Canyon, at least...but that was an accident.”

“It is worth noting there have been no formal complaints filed against her,” said one of the FWs surrounding her.  “However, when we interviewed those who have worked with her in the past, we noticed a running theme of dishonorable conduct.  Several such thieves have been brought in today to share their accounts on-record.”

The various assembled thieves were called up one by one, each sharing a lovely little tale about some time Kari shafted them.  Honestly it was hard not to laugh: I felt their pain.  Through it all, Kari just stood there, completely silent as her misdeeds were laid out before her.  Part of me couldn’t help but take satisfaction in the sight.  But, another part...

“Lastly, we would like to hear from Phantom Thief Roche.”

I pushed my way to the front of the room, avoiding eye contact with Kari for as long as I could.  When I faced the FWs, though, I could see her out of the corner of my eye, staring dag...huh. Well, she was staring, but not as maliciously as I was expecting.

“Roche.  On how many occasions have you worked with Kari?”

“Ah, nearly a dozen, I guess,” I said.

“And during these occasions, did Kari conduct herself in a manner you found questionable?”

“Every time.”  I saw Kari look to the floor.  That’s the most remorse I’ve ever seen her show.

“In particular, please share your recollection of the Cosmic Sapphire heist.”

“Right.”  I shifted my weight a little.  “A certain Mr. Snyder had the national museum display a set of fine jewels he had collected over the years, so the two of us set out to steal the exhibit.  Breaking in was easy, and then I went to the display room while Kari disabled the security.  As soon as I had an opening, I snatched the jewels, but as I was headed out I was jumped by a mercenary using a sound alchemar.  Turns out Snyder had shelled out quite a sum bringing in extra help once we warned him we were coming.  I’m sure I don’t need to go into detail about why fighting sound-users is tricky--suffice to say I was on the back foot, with things only evening out once Kari showed up.  We were doing okay, so I made a plan to end it.  I got in close as a distraction...next thing I knew, my bag felt a good bit lighter, and I was eating concrete.  Took me a minute to piece everything together, but basically: Kari stopped time, took the jewels off my hand, and then bolted back here on her own.  Not to be dramatic, but I almost died there.  That’s the only time since joining the Network I’ve had to make an emergency call. In the end, Kari got full payment, I looked like an amateur, and…”

Hesitation struck.  See, I haven’t taken a look at the Cosmic Sapphire Collection--it was turned over to the Admin and stored in the Network’s cache--but I’ve always had a strong suspicion that a few of the jewels didn’t make it back to HQ.  I wanted to bring it up, but...it’s not like I had any proof.  It was baseless, and I’d just be slandering Kari and making her (already very bad-looking) case look a lot worse.  She was still looking at the floor, and it was still weirding me out.

Nodding, one of the FWs asked, “And?”

Mmm, I might hate her, but I gotta be fair.  I sighed, continuing, “And, I’m just mad about it.  Being left to die and all.  But, there you have it.”

I went back to my seat.  The Admin folded their hands before their face, staring at Kari as they sifted through the information they had just absorbed.  “Well.  It sounds to me as though you’ve been awfully consistent, and all that’s saved you from comeuppance is the reluctance of more honorable thieves.  Do you have anything to add, Kari?”

She shook her head.  “...No.”

Yikes.  I’d never seen her like this, and it was really starting to get to me.

“This selfish streak casts itself upon your current claims.  Having previously been so willing to let your colleagues come to harm, it becomes more difficult to believe that the losses suffered at Navy Canyon were simply an accident.  Especially considering how flippant you were in the wake of the incident.”

“Makes sense.”

The Admin paused, and boy did it drag on.  Eventually, they said, “Have any come to speak in defense of Kari?”

“None,” answered an FW.

“So we truly have only your word to go on that this was an accident?”

“Come on, I--” Kari snapped, but cut herself off with a huff.  “Alright.  I’m an asshole, no two ways about it--it’s not like I don’t know.  Maybe I didn’t react right to what was going on, but at this point, what do I have to gain by lying about it?  It was an accident.  I didn’t want those thieves to die.  Believe me, don’t believe me, whatever.  Are we gonna keep running in circles, or can we just get this over with?”

Damn, okay. Something got to her.

The Admin said, “You must have an idea of what my decision would have to be if we leave things here.  Are you alright with that?”

“I just want it over with,” Kari mumbled.  “If there’s no changing it, then this is just torture.”

So...she’d already accepted being banned from the Network?  And was still insisting it was an accident?  Why?  What did she benefit from being honest at that point?

The Admin sat up straight.  “Very well.”

Hold on.

“Kari, you are hereby--”

“Wait!” I said.  All eyes turned to me.  “...Boss. To be fair...I think she’s telling the truth about Navy Canyon being an accident.”

The Admin raised an eyebrow.  “You do? Even though she’s put your life in jeopardy before?”

“I mean I’m still mad about that, don’t get me wrong.  But it’s not like she let the others die and then got out of there: she stayed and finished the mission, and even saved the lives of the right flank later on.  Why would she do that if she had killed the vanguard on purpose?”

After another all-too-long pause, the Admin said, “You make a fine point. But even if that was simply an accident, the trend in her conduct still stands.”

I glanced at Kari.  She was staring at me, eyes wide with confusion.  Don’t ask me, I didn’t get it either.  “Of course.  But, we don’t need to overreact, right?  I think the fact that she stayed after that accident shows she’s not a completely lost cause--maybe we can help her to be a little more honorable, given enough time and incentive.”

The Admin considered this, leading to yet another long silence during which I could feel myself growing old.

“Plus, where are we going to find another time-user on her level?  Not to sound like a business bastard, but you can look at it as an investment.”

The Admin chuckled.  “Practical. I suppose if we lock her for a while, we can take the time to educate her on proper Phantom Thief conduct. Mandatory, of course, and she’ll be confined to quarters otherwise.  Reparations will also need to be arranged, but that’s something we can work out at a later date.  Does this sound acceptable to you, Kari?”

She turned back to face the Admin.  “...Well, doesn’t sound like my idea of a good time, but...I suppose it’s better than my other option.”

“This will only work if you are truly willing to learn.  If you remain obstinate, this verdict can and will be amended.”

“Okay, I get it.  I’ll take it seriously.”

“Good.  Does anyone else have anything to add?”  No one did. “Then we’re done.  Please escort Kari back to her quarters and confiscate her alchemar.  Once you are satisfied the conditions are secure, please inform me, and then we can proceed.”

The FWs ushered Kari out of the room.  As she passed, she stared at me, but I kept my eyes forward.  The other thieves filed out, and I stayed where I was until finally the Admin walked up to me.

“I have to admit, Roche: I wasn’t expecting that from you.”

With a shrug, I got to my feet.  “Yeah, me neither.  Couldn’t tell you why that happened.”

The Admin smiled.  “I see. You know, if we’re going to instill a sense of honor in Kari, there’s quite a bit she could learn from you.”

Every muscle in my body went stiff as I began to question recent decisions.

“Don’t worry, I won’t put you through that.”

The tension drained out of me all at once.  You’d think it’d be cathartic, but it was more like the experience of finally vomiting after hours of nausea.

“Thank you for speaking up, Roche.  Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

Kari was locked for a good few months after that.  She wasn’t entirely responding well to her training, but she did make an effort, and eventually we got somewhere.  After doing a handful of supervised jobs pro bono, she was allowed to leave her quarters, and no one at HQ saw her for another couple months after that.  But, she did come back eventually and resumed duties as normal.  I haven’t interacted with her since the investigation, and I don’t really feel an urge to change that.  I’d like to think she’s made some real progress, but...it’s hard to give someone the benefit of the doubt after repeated betrayal.  I’m gonna keep my distance.  With any luck, she’s at least got some sense of honor now, and she won’t be my problem ever again.

[secretsantasides]

Gift #1: By Day, By Night

Gift for @aggressiveshipper

Prompt: LAMP, Soulmate au.

People whispered that the town was cursed. Monsters lived in every nook and cranny for leagues. Thieves and bandits attacked the townspeople on their yearly journeys to sell wares at the marketplace. Demons prowled the forest surrounding them, and ghosts haunted the night long after they had passed on. A sorcerer was rumored to live in a tower in the woods, and the mountains were littered with dwarves. The trees surrounding the town seemed to move in the night, and most people who strayed off the path winding through the woods were never heard from again. Dragons flew overhead every night, but were nowhere to be seen in the morning. People whispered that the town was cursed. Maybe it was.

Logan watched his students attack straw-stuffed dummies. The head of the class, Thomas, fought with the most vigor, stabbing and slashing, wildly ripping at the fake soldiers until they were reduced to shreds. He stood, panting, wiping the sweat and hair out of his eyes. Clapping his hands to get their attention, Logan shouted, “Very good, everyone! See you tomorrow!” The students dispersed, and Logan exited the training area as well, straightening his shoulders to rid them of the tightness. He walked down the small village street, past the market vendors who advertised amulets ‘guaranteed to protect you from dragon attacks!’ Logan snorted. Those didn’t work, obviously. He entered a small bakery, which was run by his best friend, Patton. The curly-haired baker was always smiling, handing out treats to children, and making everyone’s day just a little bit better. Every time that Patton smiled, a piece of Logan’s heart melted. He fell in love whenever the baker talked. Patton was only a touch taller than Logan, but every time he looked into Patton’s eyes, he knew he was looking at the stars. But he couldn’t be in love with Patton. He just couldn’t be. The mark tied his soul to others. “Hello! Logan, how was your class?” Patton smiled brightly behind the glasses that enlarged his eyes so well. Logan blushed faintly, but replied, “My students performed exceptionally well today. May I please have one loaf of bread?” Patton nodded, and passed the bread to him, taking the few pieces of gold. “See you tomorrow!” Logan reluctantly left the shop, clutching his bread and watching the afternoon sun drift lower in the sky as he walked to his cottage at the edge of town. He added his newest loaf of bread to the growing pile, knowing that he would end up giving most of it away to the students in his class. To tell the truth, Logan only bought bread every day so that he could see Patton more often. There wasn’t much else Logan did. Aside from... He shook off the thought and adjusted his shoulders again, hoping to find relief in the new position. Through the small opening in his wall, he could see the sun lowering closer to the ground, and he fixed his navy robe and headed out into the evening. Wandering into the forest, Logan watching the sun sink lower into the trees. A hollow oak afforded him a place to stash his robe for the night, and he shivered in his thin white shirt. He let the scaly wings that had been trapped inside his robe all day spread, bracing himself. The sun touched the horizon. Immediately, a shot of pain cracked through his body. His head spiraled, and the crown of his head felt like it had been lit on fire. Horns erupted from his hair, growing with his wings and Logan curled up on all fours, silently retching and crying. A tail wrapped around him next, and Logan grew, his face turning scaly. He forced himself to focus. Deep breath in, deep breath out. His clothes, instead of ripping to shreds, now melted nicely into his skin, which was quickly becoming shiny and tough. Throat burning, he opened his mouth to let a small flame out, smothering it with one huge claw before it could spread. He wobbled to his feet, and opened up the dark blue wings. Logiltis the dragon, tears still running from eyes he no longer had, flew into the starlit night. Virgil had been waiting at the meeting spot for a while, pacing around and around, impatiently wondering where the others were. Romulus arrived first, the fire that permanently burned at the end of his tail sputtering and flickering. He had obviously flown here fast. Logiltis showed up next, breathing flames onto their bonfire. He was the only one allowed to do that at this point, everyone else might set the forest ablaze again. Now they were just waiting on Patarius. The light-blue and grey tinted dragon came skidding into the clearing a few minutes later, panting. “Sorry, everyone!” he gasped. Virgil thought that he had seen a white strip wrapped around Patarius’s neck, but it flew into the fire and was burned to ashes. Logiltis was pacing around the outskirts by the trees. “It is certainly getting colder. Make sure your wings don’t freeze. They could be torn beyond repair.” “Hah!” piped up Romulus, who was sprawled out across the ground. “I don’t have to worry about that!” With a smug grin, he waved his tail around, showing off the flickering flame at the end. Virgil pushed it away, growling playfully, “I thought you cared, Oh Fiery One. You aren’t going to try to keep us from freezing?” Romulus let out an offended snort, smoke rising into the chilly night air. “Wha-bu-of course I would! I just wanted- Logiltis is right, stay warm when I’m not around to save you.” “What if we just migrate for the winter?” quipped Patarius. The others let out roars of laughter. This idea was pitched every year, and they had never once left. Virgil couldn’t go. He was certainly the only one who wasn’t a full dragon. What if he turned back while they were flying over the sea? Would the others notice? Or would they keep going without him? Logiltis sat neatly by the fire, curling his wings and tail around him gently. “I, for one, have no reason to doubt that we can survive another winter here, having made it through fifteen of them alrea-“ “Bedtime!” Patarius chirped, snuggling up to Virgil. Their nightly ritual was something Patarius had proposed years ago, “because we need to stay alert during the day, just in case humans come!” It was a good sentiment, Virgil supposed, but he didn’t do anything most days. He could barely understand other humans. The cuddle pile was steaming in the cold night air, and, despite Virgil’s troubled thoughts, he closed his eyes. When he woke up, it was still dark, as usual, but he wasn’t the first one to leave, which was honestly quite surprising. Logiltis was gone, so Virgil started creeping through the trees. It wasn’t safe to fly in the morning, given that farmers started working early. So silently he went on foot, dreading the pain of the sunrise. As the pink spread over the horizon, Virgil’s body slowly and painfully shrank back into a human. The only thing left unchanged, if only a little smaller, was his purple tail. His violet cloak was wrapped tightly around himself to shield from the cold, and as he traipsed through the mountains, he couldn’t help thinking of his winter coat. The red, fur-lined coat had been one of his favorite projects to make, the dragon scales feeling fresh and smooth under his fingers. And, yes, it was Romulus’s shedded skin. There weren’t many dragons that he knew in the woods, and he would have been uncomfortable taking their loose scales. But whenever the winter came around, and they shed their scales for thicker ones, Virgil always went back the next day and took them. No sense in wasting it. Virgil entered his cave, careful not to alert the pair of angry dragons that lived nearby. He started a fire and sat down by a blank stretch of wall, watching the firelight dance across it. With a sudden burst of inspiration, he dipped his hand into a crushed up berry mix and began to paint. Stroke by stroke, the picture grew, forming into a painting of a dragon, roaring towards the ceiling of his cavern. Virgil lowered himself to the ground, fingertips brushing across the rough stone to create three other dragons below the big one, their tails all intertwined. He stood up and stepped back, his berry stained hands tugging unconsciously at his shirt, revealing a mirror image of the mark on the wall burned into his chest. Patton was fuming. First, he had gotten distracted while transforming, and he tore his favorite apron. Then, he had forgotten to tell his friends about his other life...again. To be fair, he had meant to tell them for years. He just...got scared. He wasn’t meant to be half-and-half. And for sure, nobody else was like him. Who would be? Patton had woken to an empty clearing, the sun rising gently over the horizon, and a lot of pain screaming through him. He lay there suffering for what felt like hours, he got up slowly and started for his town. He was late! Before he exited the cover of the trees, he put a hand up to his curly hair, adjusting it to hide the tiny horns still poking out of his head. Once inside the bakery, he fired up the ovens and started mixing the first batch of dough. After putting in the usual ingredients, Patton stealthily added a pinch of everwort into it. Not enough for the harmful side effects, but with this extra ingredient, the bread would stay fresh until the buyer ate it. That was Patton’s specialty now. Years ago, Logiltis had proposed that they each teach the others a skill that they had, to learn more about the others. Romulus had taught them how to speak basic Gnome, Mermish, and Goblin. Logiltis told them how to defend themselves from any humans who would try and slay them. Patton had shown the others proper meal building, but ultimately, it was Virgil’s who had helped him the most. He had taught the rest of the dragons about poisonous and magical plants, and while Romulus was not-so-subtly yawning, Patton’s eyes were sparkling. He had gone back the next morning, picking all the helpful plants, and spent the next few months experimenting with them. But his experiments got a little out of hand when Molly Smith had eaten some of his healing bread with an infected cut. Not only did the infection clear up, but the wound scabbed up, then disappeared over the course of one night. Nobody suspected the bread as the culprit, but Patton resolved to be more careful. He still sold magic bread, but the magic was quieter, like the everwort. Sometimes, he would still try to give people magic bread, if he could see something wrong. Logan came in with a cut on his cheek? Patton’ll sneakily pass him some healing bread. A farmer comes in, exhausted beyond belief, but only halfway through work? There might be some energy bread in the back. He loved making people feel better. Even if he couldn’t tell them that what they were eating was magic. He tossed the everwort loaves into the oven and left them to rise, melding a new piece of dough with his fingers. Life was good for Patton. “Good work, Roman.” the king said somewhere in front of him. “Thank you, Your Majesty.” he replied, keeping his head bowed low. “I have another mission for you. The people of Maidenvale have reported angry unicorns charging them to steal their crops. Can you slay them, Roman?” “Yes, Your Majesty.” And so, Roman found himself traipsing through the woods, wishing for his dragon wings. “But no, I got the stupid fire-breath!” he yelled into the wilderness, scaring a few birds out of their tree. In a huff, he stormed onwards, waving away the little smoke puffs coming out of his nose and mouth. He approached Maidenvale, the sun already at its peak. He would have to hurry. Roman entered the town, flashing the medallion from the king and calling, “King Matthew sent me to take care of the unicorns, but please, go inside a building and wait there.” Plenty of people shook his hand, or whispered praise, or thanked him as they passed, which made Roman uncomfortable. “Are all these people this excited for the death of magical creatures?” he thought. “Because as a half-magical creature myself, I’m offended!” He drew his sword and entered the woods, ‘tracking’ the unicorns. This was all part of his act. He’d waste time ‘on the hunt’ for whatever monster he was currently fighting, after warning any nearby residents to stay inside. That way, no one could catch a glimpse of- An angry whinny sounded from a hundred steps away. Roman switched his sword to the fighting position, and rushed toward the noise. The pack of unicorns was charging through the woods, heading straight to Maidenvale. He jumped in front of them, brandishing his blade in the dim light. The herd halted, then snorted in fury, lowered their heads, and charged. A few quick flips and he was over their heads-and into his nightly pain. His nerves were screaming, but inside, Roman just rolled his eyes, waiting for it to be over. His wings spread, tail swished out, and horns erupted from his  head in the dusk. The herd had continued running without Roman in their path, so Romulus flew over their heads and spit fire, creating a barrier that they couldn’t cross, though the fireproof Romulus could. “Listen,” he hissed at them, hoping he had the right words. His Unicorn was a little rusty. “You go mountains. Not safe!” The unicorns did stop cantering around anxiously, but they just looked at him in confusion. He gestured frantically at the far off mountains. “Go.” Finally, the leader seemed to get it. Romulus put out the fire fence and they galloped off in that direction. Romulus flew off-at last- to meet his friends. After all, none of them had ever missed a meeting.

[lizzy-bennet]

Stars Keep Watch in the Night (and So Will I)

Fandom/Pairing: Gotham/Batcat

Length: 3,100 words

Also on Ao3

Summary: After ten long years, Wayne Manor is reopened, reoccupied, and refurbished, and the entire Gotham underworld laughs and thanks their lucky stars, because the manor holds as many riches as El Dorado, and it’s owner is nothing but a playboy. But what the thieves don’t know yet is that if they want to get to Bruce Wayne, they’ll have to go through Selina Kyle first.

Because this is what Selina does - what she’s always done since she was a kid - she protects Bruce. Even when he doesn’t know it.

So Selina keeps robbers at bay and stands guard over the manor, as watchful as one of the gargoyles Bruce has on his gate, and since he’s busy dealing with crimes that are actually being committed rather than with crimes that have already been stopped, she never expects Bruce to find out about what she’s doing.

But then he does.

- Set after the Gotham finale. -

Bruce Wayne, Gotham’s favorite son, is finally back home after being gone who-knows-where, doing who-knows-what for a decade, and Wayne Manor’s become the latest prime target for thieves.

Not that this fact surprises Selina, not with the rumors that have been swirling around the city. There’s whispers of a Van Gogh above Bruce’s bed (true), a Vermeer in his walk-in closet (false), and how selling a single one of Bruce’s suit jackets could fetch you a payday worth four figures (disgustingly true). And the entire Gotham underworld laughs, because Wayne Manor holds as many riches as El Dorado, and it’s owner is nothing but a playboy.

Rumor has it that a bold thief is planning on breaking in that very night.

Not that Selina has any reason to care. She has a mixed bag of feelings when it comes to Bruce Wayne, most of them angry, some of them sad, and a few she can’t quite explain. But, if she’s being honest, all her best childhood memories are linked to breaking into Wayne Manor, and there’s something that makes her feel unsettled and almost indignant at the thought of anyone else but her breaking in.

It doesn’t make any sense for her to be this protective, Selina tells herself. Bruce is more than capable of taking care of himself. She’s not thirteen anymore and sneaking in to watch him sleep like she’s some sort of self-declared protector of him. She’s no guardian of the manor, ever watchful like one of those gargoyles Bruce has on his gate. It’s not her problem if a thief wants to hit the place.

That’s what she tells herself, and yet she ends up searching for the thief anyways.

Because this is what she does - what she’s always done since she was a kid - she protects Bruce Wayne. Even when he doesn’t know it.

She finally tracks the thief down to an alleyway behind the hardware store. It’s a guy, a little older than her and a whole lot taller, and she can see he’s holding bright red bolt cutters.

“Hi,” Selina says, as she waves her fingers and the sharp silver tips of her claws glitter dangerously in the dim light. “Got a minute? I’d love to chat.”

The guy takes in the curl of her whip and the gleam of her claws, and she sees his guard go up, as if he’s readying himself for a fight.

“Catwoman?” the guy asks suspiciously, and Selina gets an odd sense of pleasure from the fact that he knows of her. “What do you want?”

“Heard you were planning on breaking into Wayne Manor tonight,” she says.

“Do you have a problem with that?”

The question on its own seems mostly harmless, but there’s pure danger in the way the guy purposefully steps toward her as he asks, and points the sharp tip of his bolt cutters right at her ribcage.

“Actually, I do have a problem with that,” Selina answers, voice tense, eyes on the bolt cutters. “Wayne Manor is mine.”

She’s the one speaking, and yet Selina’s still a little surprised at her own words, a little shocked that they came out of her mouth so readily, like her statement was already formed and right on the tip of her tongue, waiting to be said aloud. Wayne Manor’s not hers, she reminds herself. Bruce Wayne is not hers. Not anymore.

So why does it feel like he is?

She’ll dissect that thought later. Right now the guy is moving closer, bolt cutters out like a weapon, and she knows he’s not bluffing, knows he’d like to teach the girl who dared to tell him no a lesson, so she reaches for her whip. It takes nothing more than a practiced flick of Selina’s wrist for her whip to wind it’s way around the threatening bolt cutters, yank them from out of the guy’s hand, and send them clattering down to the wet pavement.

Eyes wide, the guy stares down in surprise at his hand that now holds nothing but air, and Selina twists her whip again, moving it back and forth like the twitching tail of an angry cat, ready to strike.

“Rule Number One: No one touches Wayne Manor but me. Got it?”

The guy swallows, watching as her whip licks the air and cuts through the space between them, and then he glances down at the bolt cutters lying on the ground, as if he’s trying to calculate their distance and how he can still run her through. But then Selina snaps the whip somewhere in the air beside his right ear, and though it never touches him, he jumps.

“Okay, I got it,” the guy says, and she can see him wince at her whip when she readjusts her grip. “The place is all yours, Catwoman.”

Selina smiles.

“Nice chatting with you,” she says, and then in a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it pivot, she vanishes back into the night.

And so Selina hears the rumors start amongst the criminal underworld that Wayne Manor is Catwoman’s, and Catwoman’s only. It may look like an easy target, one thief will say to another, but Catwoman’s declared the place off-limits. They’re not scared of Bruce Wayne, but they’re scared of her. And the stories say that if you even set foot on the property, she will find out, and she will not be happy.

And so Wayne Manor remains untouched by all except Selina, and since Batman is busy dealing with crimes that are actually being committed rather than with crimes that aren’t, she thinks that Bruce is none the wiser.

And then that all changes.

#

It’s two in the morning, but Selina’s wide awake, her pulse singing with adrenaline in the quiet of the night as she plans her heist.

Bruce has a Degas hanging above his fireplace, a Fabergé egg in the entry, and so many other works of art that are as stunning as they are expensive. But they’re not the reason why Selina’s crouching just outside of Wayne Manor’s garden walls.

No, she’s here for something priceless.

She’s here because she knows Sunday nights are the nights when Alfred makes his famous lemon cake.

It’s stupid, but she misses it. Misses the subtle taste of tart lemon mixed with the drizzle of sweet sugar icing, and the way it all melts on her tongue. She also misses sitting in the warm glow of the manor’s kitchen, next to a boy she trusts, and having him smile softly at her while she laughs.

If Selina’s being honest, she misses that part more than the actual cake, but she can only work on the food part right now.

She doubts she’ll ever see Bruce Wayne smile at her again. She doesn’t even know if she’ll ever want to smile at him again.

But the lemon cake? She can definitely swipe some of that. Slipping in and out of Wayne Manor unnoticed with a few slices of it will be nothing for someone like her.

Decision made, Selina rises, and then leaps up onto the thick stone wall in one fluid motion. Slowly, she stands and then pivots, and her footwork is as graceful as any dancer’s, but her performance is meant for darkness and rooftops, not spotlights and stages.

She calculates the distance downward and readies herself to jump, but someone beats her to it. Out of the corner of her eye, against the dark shadows, Selina sees a silhouette move. She watches - somewhat in shock - as the intruder jumps from the wall, then dashes across the drive and up to one of the dark windows.

The thief must be a rookie, Selina thinks. They hadn’t even been aware of their surroundings enough to notice her, and their footsteps weren’t nearly as soundless as they should be, their movements not as agile. A rookie who’s new in town would also explain why they were stupid enough to try to rob a place that she’s so openly declared is hers.

She raises an eyebrow, curious, as she watches the thief fumble with the window. She waits for them to fail, but instead, much to her surprise, she sees the window actually open, and the thief inelegantly but successfully climb inside.

“Unbelievable,” Selina hisses under her breath.

Though she won’t ever say it out loud, she’s come to think of herself as the unofficial guardian of Wayne Manor, and just because she can rob the place, doesn’t mean anyone else can, so it’s with some ferocity that she leaps from where she stands on the wall and tears across the pavement and toward the open window. Expertly, Selina slips inside, landing on the floor as elegantly and quietly as her alter ego’s feline namesake. The hall is dark, shrouded in shadow, and the only thing to see by is the pale moonlight coming in through the window, but it doesn’t take very long for Selina to spot the thief: he’s against the hall wall, back to her, trying to remove a Monet from where it hangs.

The stupid rookie doesn’t even have gloves on, Selina notes with irritation, and she thinks that she’s never been so disgusted in her life. Not only by this amateur, but by the fact that this amateur actually got in. Seriously, Bruce? she thinks. If this moron got in, imagine how easy it would be for someone with actual skills to get in.

Maybe Bruce deserved to be robbed.

“Idiots,” Selina mutters, as she unfurls her whip and prepares to strike, “both of them.”

The thief looks like he’s just about to bring the Monet down on his head and damage it before he can even successfully steal it, so Selina sighs, twists her wrist outward, and curls her whip around him, yanking him backwards.

“You’re trespassing, Wayne Manor is my territory,” Selina hisses. “You have two options, a smart one and a stupid one: leave quietly by walking out on your own, or leave quietly because I’m dragging your body out.”

At her words, the thief twists, lurching around within the whip violently, reaching for something, and it’s not a second later that Selina sees the silver barrel of a gun pointed at her chest.

She doesn’t find the gun worrisome. She’s taken down men taller and heavier than this one, with bigger guns and smarter plans, but she is irritated. What is it with gun-carrying freaks wanting to shoot her in Wayne Manor?

“I see you’re going with the stupid option,” Selina says, and she rolls her eyes, as unimpressed as she is unsurprised. She jerks her whip hard and fast, and then watches as the inept thief falls, knocking himself unconscious against the hardwood floor. The gun flies from his now-limp hand and goes skittering across the hall, and Selina’s about to fetch it, when she feels a familiar presence and she stills, motionless as one of the expensive statues that line the hall she stands in.

He’s there. She knows. She’s not sure how. She’d been so distracted by the other intruder, she hadn’t even been consciously reminding herself to watch out for Bruce. But it seems that, as unconscious as it was, she’s still managed to sense him anyways.

Maybe it’s because the thought of him is always right there in the back of her mind, ever constant, like the cadence of her heartbeat.

Bracing herself, Selina turns, and finds herself face to face with Bruce. They stand there - her in the shadows, him in the pale half-light - staring at each other.

Neither moves, and it’s like the moment’s frozen, suspended in time, somewhere in that quiet space between heartbeats and spans of breath.

Since he’s been back, Selina’s seen him in his mask, seen him from a distance, but not up close, not like this. Bruce is so close, she could reach out and touch him with the tip of her claw, but the distance between them somehow feels farther, the chasm between them wider, and so she doesn’t move. There’s so much between them that’s been left unsaid, and she’s not exactly angry at him, but she still hasn’t quite forgiven him either. She doesn’t know what to say, so instead of speaking, Selina studies him.

He’s older now. Taller, broader. He’d always been serious, but somehow he looks even more so. It’s like the look on his face is halfway between solemn and sad, and Selina finds herself searching his eyes, looking for signs of the boy she once knew so long ago. But she doesn’t know what will hurt more: if she finds him, or if she doesn’t, so she stops looking.

“Bruce,” she finally says, finding her voice and breaking the silence. “Your security system’s as lame as always.”

“Selina,” Bruce replies, his voice calm and steady. He doesn’t look surprised to see her for some reason.

“This guy was trying to rob you,” Selina continues, for lack of anything better to say, as she motions vaguely toward the unconscious body on the floor. “Can you believe it?”

Bruce merely raises his eyebrows, “And what exactly were you doing here?”

“That’s different,” Selina says, somewhat defensively. It’s different because it’s her and it’s him and it’s here. That’s why she has to protect this place, because as sharp and cynical as she may be, she always protects what’s hers. Doesn’t he know that?

There’s another span of silence, and they keep staring at each other, keep standing in Wayne Manor’s hall, just like they did so many years ago, and it’s simultaneously like everything and nothing between them has changed.

“I’ll call Gordon to come get him,” Bruce finally says, nodding at the body on the floor, and Selina thinks that their stilted conversation has run its course and is coming to a close, but then Bruce looks up at her and says, “So, Wayne Manor is ‘your territory?’”

Selina blinks, her clawed fingers curling in the dark as she curses herself. She must not have hissed that territory sentence out as quietly as she had thought, and she can tell that Bruce is wearing that look she remembers from when she was young, where he presses his lips together and tries not to look smug and fails.

Idiot, Selina thinks. She’d forgotten how irritating he could be, how easy it was for him to try her patience and get under her skin. That’s one aspect of their relationship that remains unchanged, apparently. She cocks an eyebrow, rests her hand against her hip, and challenges him with, “You got a problem with that, Bruce?”

“No,” he says, slightly shaking his head. “You always were the unofficial lady of the manor anyways.”

He says it so calmly, so casually, as if she knows this, as if it’s a fact he thinks is as obvious as gravity, as if he has no idea that his words are taking her by surprise and making something in her chest ache for the years before.

And then Bruce turns away from her, and Selina thinks that he’s going to disappear again. He’ll go back to his study, and she’ll slip out into the night, and they’ll go back to being ghosts of each other’s past, just a bittersweet, broken mess of almosts and used to be’s. But then Bruce turns to look back over his shoulder at her.

”Come into the kitchen while you’re here,” he says, the invitation issued in that formal manner of his, as if it’s not two in the morning and she hasn’t just broken in uninvited. “It’s Sunday. Alfred made lemon cake.”

“I know,” Selina says, rolling her eyes. She’s somehow offended that he thinks she’s forgotten. “It’s Sunday. It’s tradition.”

And then something happens that Selina doesn’t expect: Bruce smiles.

Selina hasn’t seen Bruce Wayne smile in ten long years.

She never thought she’d see him smile at her again.

It’s not a big smile. It’s small and barely there, just the slightest upward turn at the corners of his mouth. It wouldn’t even be noticeable if you didn’t know him, but Selina does, and she knows it’s genuine.

It’s stupid that something so small can stop her in her tracks, can almost leave her breathless. But it does, and she can feel her pulse race just a little bit faster, can feel that pull he has toward her again. Bruce once stood there and told her that he felt tied together with her in a way he wouldn’t want to ever change, and she thought that maybe it had changed. But there’s something about the way he’s staring at her that tells Selina that it hasn’t.

“You remembered the schedule,” Bruce says.

He doesn’t need to fill in the blanks. Doesn’t need to say out loud that it’s been a decade and she still hasn’t forgotten. They’re both thinking it.

Selina rolls her eyes.

“Sure,” she says, shrugging her shoulders and trying to sound like she couldn’t care less, like the memories of Sunday’s at Wayne Manor aren’t ones that she replays in her head on lonely weekend nights as she falls asleep alone. It takes all of Selina’s self-control to keep her face an unreadable mask and pretend that the cake isn’t the very reason why she came and that them in the hall and her breaking in isn’t making her mind spin from déjà vu.

“I don’t forget good free food,” Selina tells him. The best liars always tell the truth, after all, even if it’s only part of it. “So, yeah, I remember. Besides, the lemon cake always was my favorite.”

“Yeah,” Bruce says, repeating her words, “I remember.”

Ten years. Ten years since she’s stood in his home, ten years since they’ve spoken this much. And yet he still remembers which one of Alfred’s desserts is her favorite.

She wonders if memories of Sunday’s at Wayne Manor when they were together ever run through his mind too.

“Whatever,” Selina says dismissively, making sure to sound as indifferent as possible. Admitting to having feelings is definitely not her thing, and just because she feels the fluttering melody of her heartbeat beating out a rhythm against her ribcage like it did when she was eighteen doesn’t mean that he needs to know that. She’s got a reputation to keep, after all. “Are we reminiscing or cutting cake?”

Bruce nods, looking satisfied with her reply, and then he opens the door that leads to the kitchen, letting a warm glow spill through the doorway and into the dark hall. And behind his back, where she knows he won’t see, Selina ducks her head and her mask falls, and she smiles.

Because for better or for worse, she’s the guardian of Wayne Manor.

And she’s finally home where she belongs.

[galaxy-parchment]

A sneaking suspicion

1 : 2 : 3 : 4 (you are here) : 5 : 6 : 7 : 8

The next few days of investigating were an absolute nightmare.

Between keeping Jekyll off of their tails, finding evidence and trying to find any sense in what any of it meant had Rachel and Lanyon more confused than when they had started. Lucy’s gang couldn’t find a single hair to indicate that Hyde even existed, the matter of Henry’s will was still up in the air and with Frankenstein hanging around the society he seemed to be spending a lot more time rekindling his love for alchemy, whether it be in finding her a cure or simply vying for her favour in him being a ‘true scientist’, whatever that meant.

Jekyll had become more cautious too. After their office heist he seemed to have caught on that someone was onto him, though thankfully he didn’t seem to have any suspicions aimed towards his closest friends.

His office was now locked even while he occupied it and he refused to leave anyone in there unattended. Unless they became master thieves sometime soon, they needed a different approach. Thankfully Henry wasn’t the only alchemist at the Society, so Virginia Ito found Dr Lanyon at her door that afternoon.

“Ms Ito, how have you been?” Miss Ito turned to him and casually leaned against the side of her workbench.

“I assume you need me for something, Dr Lanyon? You’re not one to make house-calls with lodgers for the fun of it” She said as she casually leaned against her workbench, both hands gripping the edge.

“I was simply wishing to get some clarification on something alchemy related, since Henry isn’t all that talkative about it”

“Ask away”

“Does he still do his own experiments?”

“Not that I know of, except for fixing up Doctor Frankenstein, but I doubt he’s making up new medicines, since his work is apparently dull and academic.” she said with a hint of mocking in her voice.

“I just think it’s odd since he used to be so absorbed in his work, what with the shutting himself in his room and testing out new theories for days on end.” He said cautiously. Usually he wouldn’t be so open about this sort of thing but he had to get the information he needed.

“Yeah, he did used to be a lot more involved with his experiments. I suppose when you’ve got a student there’d be less time for furthering your own work”

“Student?” This was certainly news to Lanyon.

“Hyde. The man’s wild for sure but he knows his way around a chemistry kit. Where else would a guy that spends his free time drinking and fucking learn advanced distilling methods?”

“And how exactly do you know this?”

“The bastard snuck in here late one night to make an aphrodisiac, ruined a perfectly good flask with his first attempt. I never even got any justice for that, Jekyll just said that he can play around with my kit if he likes but he ‘told him off’ for it.” She complained, the annoyance in her voice abundantly clear.

“My heart bleeds for you, Miss Ito” Lanyon responded sarcastically

“All due respect, sir, you asked”

“Fair enough, thank you for your time, good day to you” He concluded with a wave of his hand as he made his way back through the door.

“To you as well, sir” She responded as the door clicked shut behind him, turning back to the bench to return to her work.

This was becoming stranger by the minute. The more he learned about this debacle to less sense it made.

-

Rachel was stirring a pot in the kitchen in preparation for yet another dinner for the lodgers when Dr Helsby and Mr Griffin decided to keep her company as she cooked. No doubt the smell of the stew had attracted them both.

“Why Miss Rachel, I insist on lending a hand and passing out dinner tonight” Mr Griffin offered

“So you can take the best bowl for yourself, not a chance, this isn’t leaving the room until Dr Jay shows his face downstairs, I told him he was eating dinner tonight and by god am I gonna watch him eat this damned food”

“As if he’s gonna come down for dinner, Rachel, it’s nighttime, he’s probably done his little disappearing act like he always does” Dr Helsby butt in with annoyance

“Oh, don’t be silly, he’s just in his office at this time”

“Not since he hired Hyde, he isn’t. Don’t tell me you’ve never checked on him”

“Well Hyde hasn’t been around recently, besides, I’m not the sort of woman to go snooping in on a man when he says to leave him alone”

He simply gave her a knowing look, having known her approach to many men in the past. Rachel felt her face grow warm.

“Well- well point taken but- but I wouldn’t just go waltzing in there whenever I feel like it”

“Point is, there’s no way you haven’t noticed that whenever Hyde has left for one of his bar crawls, Jekyll isn’t anywhere to be found either. I reckon that they go out together so they can sleep together at Hyde’s place without drawing attention.” He snickered.

“That’s enough outta you, mister, you get dinner last!”

“What? No fair!”

“I think it’s quite fair, Helsby, you should stop embarrassing yourself and leave” Griffin mocked

“I’m just saying that if they weren’t shagging then they wouldn’t make such a damn good effort to never be seen in the same room! I can say for sure that I’ve never seen Jekyll standing next to Hyde, otherwise they’d be all over each other.” He remarked as he strolled out of the kitchen huffily.

The comment stayed with Rachel as she scooped out portions into everyone’s bowls. Jekyll wouldn’t mind if he was late to dinner tonight anyway. She was far too lost in thought to realise that the man in question had quickly crept back to his office after overhearing such slanderous gossip.

-

He couldn’t ignore it any longer. Someone was clearly onto him and he had an awful feeling that Rachel and Lanyon were the ones stirring up trouble. He thought it odd that they were the only ones not present during the argument yesterday, with his very private drawer left open, but after getting a stray comment from Ito about how Lanyon had stopped by to ask about him and the conversation he overheard with Rachel, he had no other conclusion to come to than that they were going behind his back to figure out why he’d been acting strangely.

If they found out, God knows what would happen. They probably wouldn’t look at him the same way again and he’d be sent to Bethlam without a second thought. He couldn’t bear to think about it.

What could he possible do? His closest friends had turned on him and he had been left with no options. He gathered up all evidence that he had even touched a flask in the past decade and stuffed it in his desk drawer and locked it. He couldn’t destroy his life’s work, but there wasn’t much else he could do right now. Hopefully it was enough for now.

[gnoodle-studios]

The Grim: Chapter 1

In a small town, steeped in myth and superstition, a man was on the run. 

Not from bandits, or the law, but from something more… nefarious. The people around him can tell; by the way he always looks over his shoulder, by the way he says he’s only staying for a few days before he needs to move on. 

The local gossips say he’s running from the devil. 

They’re almost right. 

Technically, he’s running from the afterlife, after cheating death and hell in one fell swoop. If you wanted to get really technical about it, he’s currently running from a hellhound with no particular name, and one of the many demons assigned to handle the hellhounds, who got handed his particular case file. But the man doesn’t know this. 

All he knows is that if he runs far enough and fast enough away from that town, he might get out of all this alive. (He’s almost right)

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

Miles on miles away, in a field, a pair of glowing red eyes open. 

The hellhound has never seen land before, at least not like this. 

In the afterlife, there was just quite a lot of rocks, and quite a lot of fire, and even a substantial amount of firey rock, and rivers of lava and sharp, jutting edges that would skewer you if you weren’t careful enough. 

But this place was.. soft. And green. 

There was no fire, and no large, black, pointy rocks, just stretching horizons of blue above the hellhound, and below it; long, green… soft rocks? 

It watched as a large buzzing… something (flying rock?) landed on some nearby Green (with some yellow at the top? These were strange rocks indeed) and danced around for a bit before flying away to another nearby Green (this one had blue bits?). The hellhound nosed forward to follow it. The small, flying rock noticed it had something stalking after it and took off, ducking between the bendy green bits. The hellhound, excited, chased after it. It couldn’t really generate any kind of logical reason to go with this, but dismissed that fact as irrelevant and continued prancing on.

It got bored with the flying rock after a few minutes and started sniffing around. All of this flying and being green and yellow and soft business seemed very uncharacteristic for a rock. It could be fire, perhaps? Fire tickled like the Green when hellhound was standing in it, and fire could be blue sometimes. However, the hellhound had never seen fire be green before, and it wasn’t warm like fire was. 

The hellhound paced worriedly in a circle and eventually came to the conclusion that maybe there was more to life than Rock and Fire. 

Eventually, after the hellhound had come to grips with this world-shattering realization, (and rolling around in the not-rocks, just to be sure) it remembered that it was here for a reason. 

Missions like this were rare. Few humans saw the point in bothering to enter any kind of deal with the afterlife, and those who did weren’t stupid enough to break it. Except for now. The hellhounds were mostly used as security, patrolling borders between life and the afterlife, making sure nobody escaped. But now that there was a deal-breaker loose, it fell to one of them to track him down.

Sniffing the air, it could tell it’s target had been in the area recently. Following its nose to where the scent was stronger, the hellhound stumbled out of the not-rocks (grass seemed a good name as any) and onto a path. 

Now, this was familiar. This was definitely rocks. Just very, very small rocks. That were somehow so small they were almost soft? 

Hellhound didn’t think it would ever understand this place. 

However, hellhound wasn’t there to understand, it was there on a mission. (...A mission that didn’t necessarily prevent it from taking a second to roll in the small almost-soft rocks). 

Finding the scent once again, hellhound trotted along the path, occasionally stopping to sniff some of the “grass” that had other strange colors on top. 

At some point, a small creature jumped out in front of the hellhound and froze. Hellhound looked at it. It was white and had fur that looked somewhat similar to his own, but also with a small round tail and larger, rounded ears that twitched as the two creatures watched each other. 

Hellhound waited for the inevitable claws or pointed teeth to reveal themselves, but they never did. The creature relaxed and hopped forward to butt against one of his legs, before moving back into the grass. 

The hellhound, thoroughly confused by this, elected to keep moving. 

He hoped he wouldn’t have any other strange encounters while he was here. 

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

Down in the afterlife, a certain demon could feel himself beginning to develop a headache. Previously unaware that demons could have headaches, he couldn’t help but think maybe this was a bad sign. 

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

After following the path for a while (and discovering all sorts of things that weren’t rocks), the hellhound found a road. The target’s scent moved east down the road, so it went east. There were other people moving on the road, but most gave it a wide berth or ignored it completely. Some stared in fear and whispered at each other worriedly. 

The hellhound figured this must be because it had messed up its fur rolling in things. After all, it couldn’t have anything to do with its glowing red eyes or general aura of darkness! 

Every hellhound had those, after all. 

The loose, small rocks turned into solid, large rocks as the road passed through a town. The hellhound looked around with increased dubiousness as it was revealed to it how much of this world wasn't rock or fire.

There were houses made of stone, large smooth gray ones, but also others made of something he couldn’t quite place but decided to call ‘wood’ for the sake of his internal monologue. There were also market stalls built out of ‘wood’, littered with many things the hellhound couldnt even fathom the use of, much less the material. 

The target’s trail eventually picked back up on the road leading out of the town, but something made the hellhound hesitant to follow. 

It.. couldn't hurt, could it? Just looking around? 

It was being thorough! That was it. Just.. really checking that the mark had left for good.

It sniffed the air, finding itself (not for the first time) distracted by a smell. The smell promised warmth, like fire, and comfort, like not-rocks, and maybe even a slight dampening of the darkness-aura. 

And while, in theory, hellhounds were tireless tracking and killing machines that could go without sleep or food or shelter, that didn’t stop it from wanting at least one of those things.

The hellhound moved closer. 

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

The woman who owned the bakery and was currently manning the outdoor stall side-eyed a large black dog as it moved closer. She was a large woman, with broad shoulders and solid arms from years of kneading dough. She intimidated most who came to the bakery, including the occasional animal hoping to steal a loaf of bread. 

This did not appear to be the case for the aforementioned dog. Side eyeing harder, she realized the dog had something that looked like glowing red eyes. The town had a few long-standing myths about grims, evil spirits who would wreak havoc and destroy entire livelihoods. However, the baker was not one to buy into such foolish stories. 

And even if she was, she had had stranger customers. 

However, she was less forgiving when it came to thieves.

The black dog moved forward, considerably faster than it should have been able to for something of its size. 

But not fast enough. 

The woman growled and snatched away the loaf it had been going for. The dog whined and rested its head on the table where the bread had been and looked at her like it hadn't quite decided whether to threaten or beg. 

“Bad dog,” She said firmly, gently pushing its head off the table “Get lost.”

The dog accepted this without much of a fight and moved off, head down.

It looked like a well-fed dog, the baker rationalized. 

Surely it’s owner would come to retrieve it soon.

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

In the afterlife, the demon rubbed roughly where temples would be on a human as a dull ache took up residence behind his eyes. 

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Bad dog? Bad dog? Bad dog?

The sentence repeated in the hellhound’s head like a mantra. It shouldn't stick as much as it did, hellhounds technically weren’t even dogs!

And she had growled at it! That was its move!

As the hellhound pondered, clouds that had been gathering overhead darkened, and it started to rain.

What could she have possibly meant by ‘bad do-’...

There was something falling from the sky. 

By all accounts, this should be a bad thing. 

When it happened where the hellhound was from, it was usually fire falling through the sky, and any humans down there always seemed terrified by it. 

But here… now… they just seemed… annoyed? Like it was some minor inconvenience at best? The hellhound looked up and a drop of whatever it was landed on its nose. 

This was not fire.

Fire was warm and nice and dry. This was the opposite of what fire was. This was cold and wet and was already seeping into its fur. 

It looked around and ran towards a small covered shelter with nobody else inside, and shook off, splattering the not-fire everywhere. It paced in a circle and curled up, listening to the sound it made on the roof.

Bad dog. Bad dog. Bad dog. 

The words seemed to echo with the drumming noise.

The hellhound curled tighter.

It did not want to be a bad dog.

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

“Oh, you poor thing.”

The hellhound looked up at the voice. It was an elderly old woman, short with a bob of gray hair and a small army of scarves wrapped around her neck. She was holding some sort of contraption that caused the water to slide off of it and not touch the woman at all. Like a mini, portable roof. 

“You look so cold! Where is your owner? He shouldn’t leave his dog out like this!” 

The hellhound lifted its head to watch her. 

She paused. 

“Or do you not have one? I suppose that would make sense.”

She contemplated the dog before her, apparently deep in thought

With strange timing, it’s stomach growled. This seemed to offend her, in the sense that ‘how dare anyone be hungry in her presence’. 

“That won’t do at all! Come on, pup, let’s get you somewhere warm and dry and get you some food.”

The hellhound reluctantly uncurled itself and moved to the edge of the shelter. 

“Good boy,” said the woman, moving away and beckoning further. 

The hellhound’s tail moved suddenly and with a mind of its own, rapidly going back and forth. 

Hesitantly, it moved away from the shelter and followed the old woman home. 

The not-fire continued to fall from the sky and drum patterns into the surrounding roofs. 

It seemed to have a different melody this time. 

Good boy. Good boy. Good boy. 

The hellhound didn’t mind that one so much.