#the magma system is a little bit hard to work with

[sleepsi]

Something I drew in the @daycarefriendpickup ‘s magma! Also I don’t think I’ve spent so long drawing in one day before, this one took a longgggg time.

[stuck-in-the-ghost-zone]

NEW HAVEN WARDS THOUGHTS. ok i have. many. primarily though i would love to hear what fucking. tide's pov of insane tidalwave situation is. or just like. nhw tide thoughts in general!!!! him!! he!!! ok ok gotta go put goats 2 bed brb

AHAAAA HAHA I LOVE YOUUUUUU TIDE LAMBERT. i love you tide lambert. i also am extremely delighted by the fact that you and whiskey both sent me asks at the same time indepenently asking me about tide and mark. awesome little bowl of seeds for me in my inbox. under the cut with you

i haaaaave so many emotions about nhw tide the more i think about him.

i am still so MASSIVELY undecided on the whole clone thing but i do feel so strongly about the endbringer thing i brought up one time. i dont remember the way they are in canon but i have a lot of thoughts about tide and his siblings and their "ages" (magma is the oldest, tide is VERY close second (theyre not twins, but theyre probably only a year or less apart so they are The Oldest as a unit to the others. magma still plays the "im older than you" card to tide though). whirlwind and seismic ARE twins and they have such middle child energy. shockwave is the youngest until elle and has a complex about not being the youngest anymore. elle is the beloved baby girl. trust me i have experience in this this is basically the way my dads side of the family is) . anyway im getting distracted. anyway. tide and magma being the oldest and also being given powers specifically to counter leviathan and behemoth. i have emotions about this !!!! (i actually still dont really know whether behemoth is specifically fire coded but he does sleep in volcanoes so let me dream until worm proves me wrong). so like. even if theyre not clones they still get the whole "i was created for a purpose and i feel like i have the weight of the world on my shoulders because of it and its my only purpose and without it im lost and i dont know what to do with myself"

anyway. thinking about. tidalwave first meeting or like. early stages of meeting or whatever. tide is fucking INTIMIDATING. hes REALLY powerful, and also including that thing i put in my one liveblog the other day about Sere- if tide Wasnt A Hero it could be a goddamn disaster because his powers have the potential to be so fucking scary and bad and dangerous. luckily he is also the worlds biggest softie. tide is marginally less emotionally repressed than mark is, so he's more willing to initiate things.

i constantly think about tide in the context of that one post thats like "i hate when people say it costs nothing to be kind. it costs so much. i mean i'll pay it but damn" (im so mad i cant find that rn but. nhw tide thesis statement) hes not naive!!!!!!!! he knows how awful and shitty the world and the whole cape system is. but hes trying so so so hard to do the right thing and help people. that fucking gets on marks nerves so bad. tide is Too Nice and he hates it. "why cant you be more of an asshole so its easier for me to hate you" etc etc etc.

ANYWAY. early tidalwave. tide looks at wavelength and immediately sees a difference between him and some of the other villains hes fought. theres this almost feral desperation to him. outwardly hes cold and calculating and brutal but like. just a little bit beneath the surface he is. like a cornered animal. he doesnt Want to be doing this, but he Has To. and tide can. really sympathize with that and understand that i think. Mark Also Hates This, He Does Not Like To Be Perceived. i imagine theres a lot of back and forth like "i understand" "how could you possibly understand"

they become sort of like unofficial rivals- tide knows how the hero system works and how fucking nasty things could end up for mark if he fights someone who doesnt care about what happens to a villain, so its always tide seeking him out (fight to maim, not kill. sorry that sentence lives in my mind forever now). tide maybe lets him slip away and escape way easier than he should. because he Gets It. he genuinely does want to help mark, not in an "i can fix him" way, but in more of an "i can see youre in a horrible situation and i dont want to kill you just because of that, so im helping in the small way i can without making things worse for you" way. mark knows hes doing this. they never talk about it. they talk more than people who are supposed to be intent on killing each other should talk. neither of them will ever say it out loud but. the human connection outside of their respective Situations is kind of nice. regardless of how fucked up the whole thing is. ill-advised hookups, unmasking, etc etc all of that. but They Dont Talk About It Ever. next day theyre back to trying to kill each other like nothing happened. tide maybe privately mourns this, but still never says anything about it. tide visits mark in the hospital because no one else will. tide tells mark about ashe because no one else will, even if he knows that will basically shatter everything between them (its not tides fault, why would it be, but mark is a very "shoot the messenger, ask questions later" kind of guy)

anyway. i think about them a lot

[raindropsonwhiskers]

Alright fuck it Fantasy High Pokemon AU time

Aguefort Adventuring Academy, the premier Pokemon education facility located on the very outskirts of Unova, functions similarly to the Paldean Academy system for the most part. Uniquely, there's a heavy emphasis on training the kids to work together to take down the neverending supply of evil teams that keep popping up, stop rampaging legendaries, undermine tyrranical governments, etc.

Arthur Aguefort is, technically, a League-recognized Professor. However, he is not allowed to give students starter Pokemon anymore, as part of the ongoing series of threats-slash-negotations with the League that allows him to continue running the Academy

He is also functionally immortal, thanks to a... close companionship with Ho-oh. The details of this are explained in uncomfortable amounts of detail in his autobiography

Adaine Abernant (of the Galarian Abernants) started out as a far more traditionally Galarian Psychic/Fairy trainer, with her darling little Ralts that her parents expected her to evolve into a proper Gardevoir. By the end of junior year, she's ended up with a Gallade, Aegislash, Galarian Slowbro, Sneasler, Kommo-o, and her emotional support Poliwrath, Boggy. Being the Oracle of the Lake Trio is an additional piece of work she could have done without, but at least she gets paid for it now!

Fabian Aramais Seacaster, son of the feared Captain of Team Aqua, has gone through quite a few changes to his team over the years, but the one thing that's stayed the same is his loyal starter, Quaquavel. His equally loyal Houndoom, Hangman, has gotten better about sharing. Now firmly comfortable in his masculinity and place in the world, the rest of Fabian's team skews in the direction of Fairy and Flying types, with Togekiss, Sylveon, Crobat, and Gliscor moving in perfect harmony

Figueroth Faeth, rockstar extraordinaire and leader of Team Magma (after her father retired), is an enigma. Her team is all over the place, from her Zoroark to her Corviknight, her Mimikyu to her Salamence, her Toxtricity to her Hisuian Arcanine. One thing's for certain, though - you can never entirely trust that the person you're speaking to isn't Fig in disguise

Gorgug Thistlespring may be soft-spoken and a bit awkward off the battlefield, but he directs his team of Rotom, Alolan Golem, Copperajah, Swampert, Heracross, and Skarmory with ruthless efficiency. He's also the go-to guy for any technology, whether it's a portable PC for adventurers or a broken Pokedex in need of repair

Kristen Applebees came from a family very dedicated to the worship of the Unovan weather legends, believed to be descended from Solgaleo. As such, she was expected to raise her Petilil into the traditional Unovan Lilligant, but after an unfortunate face-to-face meeting with Landorus and the realization that she was essentially worshipping a gust of wind, her team took a turn. Now she has a Hisuian Lilligant, Froslass, Chandelure, Absol, Grimmsnarl, and Minior, as well as some newfound Darkrai and Cresselia worship

Riz Gukgak has been pretty consistent through the years, only rarely changing his team. His Luxray, Inteleon, Porygon Z, Vikavolt, Weavile, and Dragapult are all incredibly fast, hard to predict, and hit like trucks - when they connect. And don't worry about the strange Mimikyu that's been following him since before they traversed the Nightmare Forest of Sinnoh. It's fine.

[octochick]

My personal favela five headcanons (and bonus redstone gang trio ones)

Cellbit - So this wet cat of a man has a Backstory. You know. Born a catboy, occultists took him and experienced on him, ascended, learned some rituals and escaped. Was kinda out of sanity at that time so he kinda became a serial killer, classical Cellbit things. He was indeed rescued by Felps after Alcatraz, and had to get some reeeeealy intense therapy... how Felps found a therapist that would effectively treat him is a mystery, but he did and slowly, Cellbit got better. Nowadays, he looks like a mostly normal man. Mostly thanks to his appearance distortion ritual hiding the biggest part of his scars, the tatoos from when he was a guinea pig to occultists and his cat ears. Oh and he also has faceblindness.

Felps - A Felps from the felpsverse that decided to go on a simple vacation to meets some old friends but was dragged to the island. This Felps is actually a quite important Felps, being the one to bring the Felpses that die outside of the felpsverse back home. Sometimes he likes to substitute for other Felpses (The Fuga Impossível universe doesn’t actually have a Felps, it was this guide Felps the “Felps” there). He used to hang quite a lot around some of the few non-Felps entities back on felpsverse, like Rubens. Physically, he has some small differences that distinguish him from the other Felpses, like how he always walks barefoot and how he can float some centimeters off the ground. He can’t really die, but can be hurt. He bleeds black, has lots of spirals over his whole body, and any chunk of flesh that is ripped out of him turns into goo. He has a small mental link to the greater Felps conscience that sends small bits of information about the other Felpses memories whenever he needs it.

Mike - So Mike started out as a simple slime hybrid, orphan, met Pac at school and the two ran away when they finished 9th grade and did some shit, including going to prison. But well, they get out and try a new life for themselves of scientists, with pretty good results if they do say. Anyways, things got kinda freaky when the two figured out genetic modification. So Pac, at the time a simple human, decided to be reasonable despite Mike’s and his own voice and just did a simple fusion. Now, Mike, very confident that his hybrid status would make him sturdier to more extreme transformations, decided to go a little crazy. First was creeper, complete success. A touch of spider, only for the wall climbing? Yup, splendid. Now... blaze? Blaze fucked things up beyond repair. The blaze dna didn’t interact well with his slime dna, fused into magma cube dna and overwrote a lot of his own genome. He almost died and his body became almost unrecognizable. If analyzed, he is around 1% spider, 5% human, 16% slime, 23% creeper and 55% magma cube nowadays. His body is basically a slime mold, vaguely human in shape, red fading into pink, lightly explosive with large eye spots. Despite this body having its uses, Mike was always used to a human body so he and Pac worked hard to make him a robot body. His body went through lots of versions, and it still is being updated. The most recent version has a digital TV face, fingers that have deployable tools (A staple since the second version), and a complex camouflage system. If you pay attention to the joints, you can see glimpses of his true body.

Pac - So Pac used to be a human, but now he is a third planaria. His leg suffered more than Jesus. Despite the rumors, Cellbit DIDN’T eat his leg. But he did bite it. At first it wasn’t all that bad, excluding the obvious, but he still could walk ok, things just got bad when they returned to land and it got infected so bad the leg had to be amputated, bellow the knee. So one of the first things Tazercraft built when they got their lab was a prosthesis for him. And thing were well and swell, buuuut a lab accident happened and Pac’s leg had to be amputated further, over the knee. New prosthesis, everything ok again. Genetic modification time! Mike’s adventures are already written, but Pac decided think a little bit more about it. He decided to go for planaria, because of their regeneration capabilities. He went, got that planaria dna and almost died. But he survived. His leg, for some miraculous reason, got regenerated, but not perfectly, so nowadays he needs a cane a lot of the time. He does wonder what would happen if he is cut in half, but its better to not think about it too much.

 Now the bonus Viniccius13 and DaviGamerHD because they were for a very long time the only minecraft channels I watched

Viniccus13 - He is something of a demigod, almost omnipresent and omniscient, but only on his home world. He is basically a ginormous redstone circuit, the size of a minecraft world, that reached sentience. He can feel and see through all the redstone that is from his home world, and he can “contaminate” the redstone of other worlds to also do that. His body is completely made out of redstone. Think of him a little like a mushroom. He, the man, is the fruiting body, and the redstone underground is the hypha. But he can’t survive outside of his world for very long, he will simply crumble and loose consciousness. To be able to go to other worlds he uses a stabilizer in the form of sunglasses.

Davi - Davi is a hybrid of deer and dryad, a little of a strange mix. His antlers form a ring over his head like a halo, but they have lots of cracks and fractures, and are also very uneven with different growth patterns, caused by his frequents deaths in Viniccius world. Some of Richarlyson body language reminds Forever of Davi, so he calls Richas Davi as a small joke.

[sweetestlamb]

Mostrami Amore.

Summary: Cha-young tries to move on from a certain mafia boss. 

Author’s Note: Thank for to everyone who sent in prompts for Chayenzo, it resulted in this mess. I don’t have much to say, I considered making this into a multi- chaptered story but honestly I don’t have time for another ongoing story so if this seems rushed it was a little, I wrote it in one go today. Hope you enjoy this, I stuck in some of my favorite crack ship because I am weak and obsessed. Happy reading! 

p.s takes place after final episode but han seo lives because this is my world and I get to play God. 

Another postcard.

Their delivery becomes sporadic and she’s embarrassed at the giddiness that washes over her each time a new square is sent miles across a wide stretch of ocean, the view on the card most likely lackluster in comparison to the true rendering of Malta. She has spent many hours on her laptop searching for images of the small paradisiac island, yearning to see what he sees and feel just a tad bit closer to him. Most of her life has been spent in solitude with only her work acquaintances filling the void at times, so she expected herself to be more equipped to deal with his disappearance and subsequent absence. But nothing prepares her for those moments at the coffee shop, when she finds herself smiling across a table only to realize there is no miniature espresso cup in the hand of a very dangerous Italian Korean mafia member grinning back at her. 

The smile melts off her face and she swallows the bitter cool sludge in her cup, the beverage tasting exactly as he had described it without him there. 

Nights are the hardest, loneliness coils around her like a snake. 

There was never any other fate for them, she knew that when Vincenzo murdered all their enemies this was their only real outcome. He would always be a fugitive on the run and she an accomplice if he were captured and questioned, it was in both of their best interests if he vanished from the face of the planet. But knowing that does nothing to qualm the ever present feeling of isolation that clings to her skin as she sits alone on her couch, downing makgeolli at a vicious pace. Trying to wash his taste from her mouth, that kiss on loop in her mind and the phantom grip of his hand on her neck. 

It’s those treacherous nights without the plaza members that have become a second family to her and Han Seo following her like the lost puppy he is calling her “Noona” so freely and frequently until she forgets her own name, that she allows herself to feel exactly what she’s feelings. 

Heartbroken. 

Desperate. 

Lonely. 

Rage. 

The last one she hides like a dirty secret in the closet of her heart, she knew what she was signing up for. She has no legitimate reason to be angry, or so she tries to reason with herself. But. This was the same man who had bypassed the security of one of the richest men in Korea and ultimately killed him without leaving a trace. She had watched him do despicable things, blackmailing, threatening, seducing, and murdering others as he saw fit and yet, he hadn’t used any of those dastardly ways to see her. That chance meeting at the art gallery had been the last she had seen of him, Then a few weeks later another postcard with the same message she had boldly uttered at the airport, it feels insufficient after having him in her arms again. She knew in that moment that they would never be enough again. She hadn’t even argued when Mr. Nam claimed he would leave this one on his table instead, she merely nodded and walked away to peruse the new sexual assault case she has taken recently. 

It gets harder and harder to hear Han Seo regaling the wonders of his “hyung”,  her anger boiling deep below the surface like magma waiting to explode and transform into something tangible and destructive. 

“He told me that he has a room for me too. I wonder when he’ll let us visit.” 

She nods absently, staring out the window at the sunlight twinkling in through the blinds but then his words register and the gears in her head churn before running the sentence back through to carefully process them. 

“He---what? You spoke to Vincenzo?” 

The human puppy pouts his lips before tilting his head and dealing a hard blow to her ego and her heart, “Yeah, he sends me letters. I got so scared the first time! He said the letter would self-destruct after I read it and I really thought that was true and I dived across the room to escape but I bumped my head on the table and then...” 

He sent Han Seo letters.  

She had received the same fucking postcard for months on end with the same message she had said to him, and he had time to write Han Seo letters. He hadn’t sent her even one in the time he had been gone. 

“That fucking bastard!”  She explodes interrupting Han Seo’s recount of his near death experience and he looks wide- eyed and taken back by her outburst, she almost soothes him before another wave of anger rushes through her veins. She had accepted the bare minimum because she thought this was all he could give her but it seemed she was being too naïve. He was Vincenzo Cassano after all, he could make anything happen. She had seen it with her own two eyes. If he wasn’t reaching out to her maybe that was a message and she was too blind to see it. 

“Noona? Are you okay?” Han Seo looks absolutely terrified, eyes huge and quivering. She doesn’t bother answering, grabbing her cup of lukewarm coffee and stomping out of the office ignoring Mr. Nam’s calls behind her. She’s tired of being an idiot. 

She throws herself into forgetting him, the same way he seems to have forgotten her despite his words to her that fateful night on the stairs. 

I thought about you everyday. 

Actions speak louder than words and she is done accepting his crumbs. She has never needed anyone, had even accepted when her own father wanted nothing to do with her; she has basically been prepping for this moment her entire life. 

So she goes shopping with Miri, buying gadgets that she has no idea how to use but that the other girl makes sound like things that she definitely needs such as a new home security system, her break in still fresh in her mind. She grins at the pretty smile on the other girl’s round face as she explains the specification of the machines around them and she can see why Han Seo has such a huge crush on the girl, the pretty blush that blossoms on the other girl’s cheek after stating the fact out loud is adorable and she pinches said cheek much to her chagrin. 

“You should worry about your own love life.” Miri teases but the words sting like acid on her skin and she turns away to hide the grimace on her face, but she’s not fast enough and the other girl catches her wrist halting her movement. 

“What? What’s wrong? Did something happen to Mr. Cassano?” Miri whispers the last part, looking around to make sure that nobody overhears them. 

She forces herself to stifle her emotions, trapping them in the back of her mind refusing to let him have this kind of affect on her. 

“I wouldn’t know.” She tries for a emotionless tone but even she can hear the bitterness in her own voice and Miri’s eyes fill with pity and it makes her sick to her stomach, “Don’t. I am going to be fine. Let’s just go.” 

They don’t utter single word in the car ride home. 

After that it becomes painfully obvious that everyone in the plaza thinks something is wrong with her and are teaming up to make her feel better. It’s the packed lunches that keep showing up on her desk without fail, her clothes being steamed and pressed for free, the way that they won’t allow her to be alone and there are countless spontaneous family game nights all ending with her drunk and being carried home. 

Tonight Mr. Tak is the unlucky volunteer, dragging her limp body in her father’s house and she thinks of all the times that they drank here together and a certain person was the one hauling her body to bed complaining and grumbling but that distractingly fond smile on his face that he only ever seemed to shoot her way. Her heart thumped loudly as he loomed over her and leaned in close, getting her hopes up only to brush her hair behind her ears and softly tell her, “Go to sleep now,” and she had never been obedient all her teachers could testify to that but when he looked at her like that she was powerless to do anything else but listen. 

“I miss him.” The traitorous words fall from her lips and vanish into the inky darkness of the night. 

A deep sigh from the left of her, “We know.” 

She feels vulnerable, the worst thing about having a weakness is other’s noticing too. She hates how weak she feels. 

“I am going to forget him.” 

The body supporting most of her weight tenses under her arm and she waits for his response, they all love Vincenzo- he had become their unexpected hero and leader in many ways. They would always take his side, she knows that. 

“If that’s what you need to do to be happy. Then, do it. Loving a man like Vincenzo isn’t easy.” 

She turns to look at him in genuine shock. 

“What? You thought I would tell you to keep waiting with no end in sight? You should know by now, you mean a lot to us too. Your happiness is important to us too, we’re a family.” 

“But we’re the Cassano family,” she challenges unable to accept that they could love her without Vincenzo attached, but Mr. Tak shrugs at the clarification, “We can be the Hong Family too.”

She feels her eyes swimming. 

“I should go inside.” 

She feels sober and more awake than ever, she stays up all night twirling the long strands of her hair in between her fingers. 

Thinking. 

Variety is the spice of life. 

She doesn’t know where she’s heard that but it’s those sage words that are the catalyst for her spontaneous decision. 

“Same as always? Silky with some body?” Her stylist peers into her eyes through the wide mirror and she hears herself say, “No I want a cut and some color.” Yu-jin raises one pretty tweezed brow but nods after a moment’s pause, “Okay. How short are you thinking?” 

And that’s how she starts her day with long thick hair that grazes her lower back and ends it with a short bob that tickles her neck. It feels like a weight has been lifted from her shoulder, metaphorically and literally and she loves the face that she sees in the mirror, her eyes looking brighter than they have in months. She feels more alive, like a snake shedding its skin and becoming a newer and fresher version of itself. 

“Your hair?” That becomes the running theme for her day, shocked gaping mouths and hands reaching out for the hair that was once there.  She merely smirks at their palpable surprise, especially Seol-jin who doesn’t recognize her from behind. 

“I haven’t seen a pretty lady like you aro--Oh Ms. Hong! I’m so sorry I didn’t recognize you, I am so sorry please excuse me!” The interpretative dancer bolts away leaving her to watch him bemused, she skips to Jipuragi with a pep in her step laughing loudly when Mr. Nam drops his coffee upon seeing her and the brown liquid goes flying and douses him in a sticky hot mess. 

It’s an entertaining day to say the least. 

Moments later when he’s finished cleaning himself up and changing into the cheetah print track suit that he insisted to keeping in the office, he mentions that a new postcard has arrived. She nods at the information, looking at her laptop and it’s only seconds later that she finally looks up and sees that he’s waiting for her response. She doesn’t have one. 

Forcing a tight smile on her face she replies, “Oh that’s great. Just put it with the others.” 

He does. 

But she can feel his eyes on her, his concern heavy and tangible in the air. 

She pretends not to notice and keeps clicking away on her laptop, only glancing over at the card once or twice. But it’s only out of habit. 

Nothing more. 

She starts going on dates with random men. Men she meets in coffee shops, on the streets, in bars, hell one time even the bookstore. She never meets the same man twice and they never get what they want but it does make her feel desirable and that’s all she’s looking for. 

“Where are you going?” Han Seo asks her curiously, Miri by his side as she struts out the plaza new perfume on her skin. 

“On a date. I’ll see you both later.” They both gape at her and can only watch with wide eyes as she sashays away, heels clicking with every step. 

Word spreads like wildfire and no one takes it harder than Mr. An, who calls her a “jezebel” and cries at the front of the law firm for hours, she has to step over him to go get lunch shaking him off when he latches on to her ankles. 

The others just look at her with sad eyes, filled with both understanding and disappointment. 

Much to her surprise the lunch boxes keep coming and her clothes are still pressed and starched to perfection though. 

She also starts taking self defense classes, Korea is much more dangerous than she had first suspected and she has to be able to protect herself because nobody is coming to save her.  Not anymore. 

It becomes a great outlet for her built up anger and her instructor praises her for being a fast learner. She grins and nods before flipping him and twisting his arm around his own neck in a modified sleeper hold. When he taps on her arm she squeezes tighter instead of letting go and he goes limp for a moment before she comes back to herself and releases him hastily with a quick apology, “Sorry!”

He rubs his neck, panting for air and she feels guilty, there's a tinge of that but most of all she feels powerful, more so than she has for a long time. 

It’s crazy but she finds herself asking him for drinks after class and even crazier is that he agrees even with her marks still there on his skin, the area bruised and red. He looks at her like she’s challenge that he wants to conquer, she lets him believe that’s possible. It’s only a bit of fun anyway, she has no plans for anything serious. 

Drinks turn into a drunken cab ride home with his hand on her thigh, hot through the thin material of her tights and they don’t feel right- too small and not rough enough but she’s moving on and she has no time to reminisce. 

There hasn’t even been a postcard lately. Message, loud and clear. 

When she shoves the keys into her door, he’s glued to her body leaving wet kisses on the long column of her neck and she tries to suppress the nausea that swims in her stomach, everything feels wrong and she hates herself for feeling that way. Why shouldn’t she fuck whoever she wants? He is probably doing the same thing, everyday on his beautiful private island. Kissing women that aren’t her and whispering dirty Italian words into their ears as he rocks back and forth, nary a thought of that Korean woman he knew once upon a time. 

Fuck him. 

She rocks back into the purposeful grind of the hips behind her, feeling the hardness that digs into the soft flesh of her ass and finally the door opens and they both tumble in haphazardly and he thrusts a hand under her loose shirt fingering at her breasts before a dark figure moves far too quickly in her peripheral and she hears her date cry out in pain. 

She almost faints at the familiar sight of the one person she never expected to see, the hard glint of his cold eyes as he twists the same hand that had just been fondling her chest. The grip looks painful, the wrist contorted in an unnatural manner. 

“What the fuck? You have a boyfriend?!” Her instructor cries out, voice high pitched falling to his knees as Vincenzo kicks his feet out from under him. 

She rolls her eyes, of course he would come now when she is trying (and failing) to get over him. 

Vindictively she answers the question, ‘No.” 

But that makes Vincenzo twist the wrist in his grip even tighter and she can see the bones breaking so she takes pity on the poor man, he didn’t sign up for a murderous mafia leader after all. 

“Just let him go. You have no right to do any of this.” 

He doesn’t listen right away and absently she wonders if she’ll need to test out her new moves on him, it would be satisfying to deck him square in the face. She dreams of that as often as she dreams of their reunion. Her feelings are...complicated to say the least. 

Then with a grunt, he throws the other man away like he’s trash and growls out, “Get out of here before I kill you.” 

She tries not be get turned on by that. But it’s a hard sell, her body already getting revved up. He’s telling the truth. 

The man wastes no time, jumping to his feet and bolting out the door without one backwards glance. Asshole, he was really just leaving her with a clearly unstable and dangerous man. 

“We need to talk.” Vincenzo squeezes out between clenched teeth, and her blood runs cold but she stares him dead in the eyes tired of this game they’ve been playing, if he’s here to end things she wants to know. 

“Okay. Then talk.” 

She looks insanely beautiful, with her hair cropped so short bringing his eyes to the tantalizing length of her neck. His eyes close in on a spot of moisture on her neck, he feels his blood boiling imagining that bastard touching any part of her.  She’s glaring right back at him, her chest rising and falling and he can’t help but check her out, it’s been months since he saw her in person the photo of her doing aerial yoga above his bed couldn’t compare to the tempest that is Cha-young in real life. 

The flat plane of her belly is on display under the white crop top loosely stretched across her chest which leads down to her slim hips and legs wrapped in white spandex, leaving very little to the imagination not that he hasn’t imagined her in far less many, many times. Too many times to count. Spilling across the silk adorning his king sized bed with only her name on his lips. 

She looks fucking hot. 

That makes it even more frustrating because he can still clearly see that bastard wrapped around her like a snake and his hands going up her shirt---he has to take a deep breath before he breaks something. Or chases that asshole to break his face. 

There’s so much he wants to say to her, so much he owes her. 

I missed you. 

I love you. 

Come with me. 

“Who the hell was that?” He says this instead then watches her eyes glint over into nothing but pure murderous rage. Wrong move. But he couldn’t help it, green eyed raged taking away his decision making abilities. 

“That’s all you have to say? Get out.” 

He wasn’t expecting rose petals and trumpets when he returned but he definitely wasn’t expecting this, her cold glare or another man in his spot. He thought she would wait for him, just as he had done for her. 

“Are you serious right now?” He counters, flabbergasted. 

“Deadly. Get out.” 

He clenches his fist, and then stomps out. Turning back but only to watch the door slam in his face. 

What the hell. 

It had only taken a letter from Han Seo to get him on boat that would take him to an open field and hours later he was soaring through the skies on a hot air balloon, on his way back to Korea. It was insane and he barely had time to explain to his family but Luca nodded at him like this was the only choice and told him that he would take care of everything, and he trusted those words more than he had ever trusted anything in his life.

“Vai a prendere la tua donna( go get your woman).” 

He had nodded, gruffly patting the other man on his shoulder before hopping over into the waiting boat. 

But he wasn’t so certain anymore that Cha-young was his. 

She seems different. Colder almost, she leaves whenever I mention your name and she goes on dates now. I think she’s moving on hyung, what are you going to do? 

Those words had been the scariest thing he had never seen. Scarier than every gun that had ever been pointed at his head. He thought what they had was something special, something that could stand the test of time and distance. He stared at the huge pile of letters on his bedside, all addressed to her. He had written one everyday since they had been separated, but each time he was too much of a coward to send it. In those letters he could say things that he could never say to her face, things like how much he ached without her by his side and how her smile was the only thing that kept him going. In those letters he could regal the ways he loved her, and how deeply she had been branded into his soul, every atom of his body belonged to her and her alone.  He would kill for her, die for her, anything she needed or merely wanted he would provide it, all she needed to do was ask. 

He could only share those feelings in the letters. 

He walks for hours, until he ends up at his old apartment the familiar door greeting him and he sticks his hand in his pocket before he remembers that he gave the key away, with a sigh he starts to walk away before the door creaks open and he hears a voice he hasn’t heard in months. 

“Hyung!” 

A warmth spreads across his back as a solid weight almost knocks him off his feet. He reaches one arm around his body, awkwardly slapping the face that is pressing into his collar. 

“You really chose to stay here.” 

He feels the nod on his shoulder, “Of course. It made me feel closer to you hyung, I missed you.” 

He grunts in response, before turning around and tugging the younger man into a real hug. He had missed the annoying little leech too, he had missed everyone. 

They are still in each other’s embrace for a moment before Han Seo pulls away, sympathy etched deep on his face. 

“She wasn’t happy to see you.” 

“There was someone else there.” He hates the words even as they leave his mouth and Han Seo winces, looking pained for him before tugging him into the small apartment. Everything is just like he left it.  He looks around in awe. 

“I’m sorry hyung. What are you going to do?”

That’s the golden question, he pondered it all the way here and he’s no closer to knowing the answer to that. Usually she is the one that makes the move, she has always been the brave one between them. He back steps and says things he doesn’t mean and she sees through him and smashes down all his walls. That’s how this has always worked. 

“I don’t know. Maybe I should just leave her alone. Let her be happy.” 

A loud scoff reaches his ears, “Sure. Is that why you sailed across sharked infested waters and trusted a hot air balloon company run my former thugs?”

He smarts at the sarcastic reply and glares before flicking the cheeky brat on his nose, "I liked you better when you were stupid you know. Now you're a little smart ass."

The younger man looks even more youthful as he grins back at him, rubbing at his nose before shrugging.  "I learned from the best."

He has no rebuttal for that so he tries to flick him again, giving chase when he darts off.

It feels good to be home.

He warns Han Seo not to tell anyone that he's here least they give away his location.

So he's not surprised the next day to find the cavalry at his doorstep hands filled to the brim with containers of food. There are tears, mostly from Mr. Nam who won't stop screaming his name and pinching his cheeks to see if he's real and Mr. An who wraps around him like a koala despite his very detailed threats. It's all chaos and so familiar that his heart aches but her absence is like a hole in his chest. Nobody mentions her but they all keep looking at the door, so it's obvious that she was invited but chose not to come.

Because she didn't want to see him.

"You're here to win her back right?" He doesn't know who even utters the words but when he glances up they are all looking at him expectantly.

He didn't know that was what he was indeed here for thought that she would happily welcome him back and they could pick up where they left off but she's made it clear that this won't be the case. This will be the most important fight of his life.

"Yes. I'm here for Cha-young."

He gets enthusiastic thumbs up and a loud giggle from the Yeon-Jin  and Cheol-Wook’s adorable baby, her little hands too uncoordinated to do a thumbs up but she waves excitedly  feeding off the energy around her.

He wonders how Cha-young would look with a baby in her arms, their baby it's a dangerous thought. But one that he can't get out of his mind once he thinks it.

They stay until midnight, forcing him to eat and drink too much soju until he passes out to dreams filled with a round Cha-young, belly swollen and protruding from her body. 

It doesn't take much to learn her schedule(Mr. Nam hands him a laminated copy) and he has to put on a disguise but he enters the shop seconds after her, hearing her order that god awful sewer water she's so fond of.

"An espresso for me." He leans in too close, almost brushing her shoulder and she jolts at the sound of his voice, turning to stare at him as if she's a mirage.

"You're still here?" She whispers and then shakes her head and looks away as if she's hadn't meant to say the words aloud.

It hurts him that she thought he would leave without telling her but he can't blame her, he has been anything but consistent. Instead of answering, he leans forward to hand his credit card to the cashier who glances between them suspiciously before accepting the card.

Their orders are ready in seconds and he follows her as she walks to their table, butterflies in his stomach at the familiar sight.

She turns to him with a glare, "It's just the only available table."

He moves to pull out her chair and she starts at him tight lipped before sitting down. She's in a tight black suit today, two long slits on the side of her pants going all the way up to her thighs. He gulps down his drink to get rid of the drool pooling in his mouth.

"You're upset with me."

She stares at him like he's the biggest idiot on the planet, it's not a look he receives often but she's always the outlier in his otherwise organized life.

"Astute observation." She quips back, sucking loudly at her coffee.

"Why?"

He considered how to go about breeching this subject and in the end had decided on going straight to the source, he had been under the impression that this was working for them.

Her face morphs into a person he hasn't seen for a long time, the Cha-young that would berate him and make him angry enough to curse in Italian.

"Do you think this little of me?"

He's completely lost, "What do you mean? What did I do that was so wrong? Wrong enough for you to cheat on me!" He's panting now, his voice has gotten loud enough to catch people's attention he can feel them watching their table, nosy and invested.

"Cheat on you?"

Cold as ice, her voice is. It almost makes him shiver.

"How could I possibly cheat on you? We're not together. You send me the same postcard with the same message every few months. I have no idea what you're doing in Malta, who you're with. You can't even be bothered to send me a letter, do you think this is a relationship? You think it's enough to pop up like this every once in a blue moon? You've told me nothing about how you feel about me but I'm supposed to be satisfied with whatever you throw my way?"

If he wasn't sitting down his legs would have already given out he's certain about that. Her voice is deadly quiet each word landing and chipping away at his confidence.

"I'm doing the best I can! You knew it would be like this after everything was over, why are you blaming me now? How about you, I don't know how you feel either!"

"I love you! Anyone with eyes can see that, I told you that at the airport too. And again when I took a bullet for you, you didn't think that meant I loved you? I was willing to die for you."

Shit.

It's not at all how he expected them to confess their love for each other, it's hard to believe the words that are coming out of her mouth as she bares her teeth at him.

"So why are you doing this? Why are there other men?"

Why aren't I enough? He wants to say but he's scared of her answer, terrified that she'll say that she can't do this anymore. That he just isn’t enough anymore. 

She stares at him long and hard.

Waiting for something. But he doesn't know what.

"You haven't changed at all. You're still a coward, I'm not interested in guessing anymore. I’m done playing this game.” 

She stands up and walks away, leaving her unfinished coffee on the table.

Unwanted just like him.

She doesn't see him for days and she accepts that her words had done their damage, she had cried until she fell asleep that night. Waking up with swollen red eyes that no amount of concealer would save but thankfully no one commented on her state.

She goes through her day on autopilot and before she knows it she's back home, ready to face her night alone  again. She pushes the door open, half praying he'll be waiting for her but her hopes shattered when she turns on the lights and finds no one.

"It's better this way." She lies to herself, pouring herself an obscene glass of soju. She's going to need plenty of alcohol to get through this pain.

Her head is woozy and heavy when she hears a sound, suddenly alert she stills in her chair before rushing over to get a frying pan walking on the tips of her toes she prowls closer to the clicking sound, finding herself at the window peering at a long lost friend. Placing the frying pan on her window sill she pry opens the window, screeching when the audacious bird flies inside landing on her table as if he belongs there.

"Hey Inzaghi! Get your dirty bird feet off my table!"

He looks at her nonchalantly, making himself comfortable on said table and she sighs before shutting the window and drunkenly swaying over to him.

"What are you even doing there? Do you want to be my bird now, I won't be a very good owner. I won't remember to feed you. I barely remember to feed myself."

Despite being a bird he finds a way to roll his eyes at her before standing up and only then does she notice something on his leg. She looks at him cautiously before moving closer and untying the paper on his leg, the pigeon barely reacts before flying over to her couch. She sighs in annoyance, she's going to have to clean everything after this bird leaves.

She unwinds the string holding the paper together, unrolling the paper scroll. There is a message written inside: the rooftop. 9 pm.

Glancing at her clock the time shines at her.

7:34pm.

"This could be a trap."

It very much could be, she has enemies now. It was a small price to pay for taking down Babel but she's always looking over her shoulders now, so this note could easily be someone luring her to hurt her or get back at Vincenzo.

Inzaghi coos loudly at her as if he can hear her thoughts. This time he finds a way to look exasperated.

She stumbles off to her room.

She needs time to think.

"So she told you that she loved you and you didn't say it back?"

"I was shocked. She was growling at me and looked ready to kill me at the same time." He reasons back, trying to show his hyung his point of view. The younger man doesn't look even a little bit convinced by his logic.

"Okay and? That sounds perfectly normal for you too. You should have shot someone and wrote it back in their blood on the table."

He recoils in disgust at the suggestion, "What the hell is wrong with you? Are you actually insane, why the fuck would I do that?"

Han Seo stares deadpan in return.

He puts up a hand trying to stop whatever response he has, "Don't say it."

It doesn't work.

"Pig's blood. Don't forget I saw it all, I've never seen Ms. Hong look so excited before. You're both crazy."

Well, that had been different. It was an old tradition, she simply had an appreciation for the classics.

"And I bet you're defending her right now in your mind. Noona is just like you, that's why you're made for each other. She's the gasoline to your fire."

"You know that would just make an even larger fire right?"

"Yes. I'm smart now remember? I know what I said."

He sighs falling into the comfortable familiarity of the couch, a spring digging into his thigh.

"Why didn't you say it back?" His stills at the barely whispered question, his chest constricting as he recalls the passionate confession. He had frozen, like he'd always known she was the brave one between them. Always doing the unexpected and the time was no different, her words had knocked him off his feet.

"Because I was scared."

Han Seo huffs at his honesty. He doesn't know where the words are coming from but he's tired of keeping it all in.

"Because if anything happens to her it'll break me, I thought it would be better if I kept her at a distance. I thought this was enough. I thought this would be easier. When I think about her I want to drop everything and just be with her and that...was too dangerous. I had to keep my distance."

There's a pregnant pause, just the sound of their breathing filling the void.

"Was it?"

"What?"

"Easier. Is this better? Enough?"

He thinks about Cha-young getting married to a faceless man, exchanging vows and sealing it with a kiss, happy and in love on their honeymoon wanton moans and screams from their room, learning that they're having a baby and her round and glowing with someone else's child smiling brightly as she rubs her belly and it's too much. He wants to smash it all into little pieces.

"No. It's not enough. I need her, without her nothing is enough."

"That's what you should have said to her. Don't glare at me I'm right, but I have an idea. I saw it in an American cartoon."

And that's how he lets his younger brother convince him to send a note to Cha-young using Inzaghi, the pigeon had shown up one night and he'd been so happy he almost kissed the bird.

"How will he know where Cha Young lives?" He asks skeptical even as he ties the note to the birds leg.

"I showed him a picture of her house. According to the cartoon, birds just know.” 

He stares at the younger man, wondering why he's listening to this ridiculous plan.

"This is stupid. I should just text her, Inzaghi is never going to deliver this. He's just a regular pigeon." 

"This is more romantic." He answers matter of fact.

"How is a pigeon delivering a message in anyway romantic?" He challenges already knowing from the shit eating grin he won’t like the response. 

"The same way pig blood was." The brat counters and he doesn't get a chance to respond before Han Seo picks Inzaghi up and throws him out the window, "In the name of love!" He only barely stops himself from bashing his head into the wall, the younger man has to wrestle him to the ground.

It's stupid. They did all of this for nothing the cool breeze makes him pull his coat tighter around his body, exposed to the weather on the open space of the rooftop.

He checks his watch, 9:48.

She's not coming and the worst part is that he doesn't know if it's because that damn bird never delivered his message or if it's because she really doesn't want anything to do with him. The burden of not knowing hurts more than anything.

Expelling the air in his lungs he walks back to the single door that leads off the roof, twisting the doorknob in his hand and pulling it open.

Meeting the shocked face of one Cha-young.

They both just stare at each other before he speaks, "You came."

He can't believe it. Inzaghi had actually delivered the note, somehow the pigeon had found her house and she was here. He almost pinches himself to see if he'd passed out on the roof and this was just a dream.

"I didn't know Inzaghi was a carrier pigeon." She futilely tries to change the subject and he takes a step back, gathering the tattered pieces of his courage. The same courage that had propelled him to kiss her all those months ago on the stairs.

"I'm so happy you're here. I waited for you."

She stares at him like he has two heads before blushing, and avoiding his eyes.

"Come with me." He extends his hands and tries not to be too hurt when she bypasses it and steps around him instead.

At least she was here.

With a quick swipe of his hand he sends the message to his accomplices.

Now.

The lights come on, fairy lights decorating the roof top in a heavenly glow. She spins around in wonder, eyes nearly as bright she's so beautiful it's almost painful to look at her.

Then the music starts.

The soft notes filling the space.

When I walk down a road I don't know well....

She looks around in wonder, staring back at him she can’t believe what’s happening. 

Then the letters start falling from the sky, all the letters he had written to her alone and missing her thousands of miles away. His plaza family smiles down at him, throwing letters from a higher building.

Cha-young stares up at the sky in surprise, hundreds of letters landing all around her.

It had taken a few days for Luca to send them all over and then another day to get the guts to do this, there was no turning back now. He had never willingly made himself vulnerable to anyone else, but according to Han Seo it was the only way he was going to win her back. 

“She just wants to know that you love her too. Show her.” 

He watches anxiously as she picks up a letter, stroking lightly at her own name on the front looking at him with stunned wet eyes. 

“You wrote me a letter.” Her voice is revere and awe that he doesn’t deserve, not after everything he has put her through in the sake of protecting himself but he’s too elated to see her looking at him like that again, like he’s someone important to her. 

“182. For each day we were apart. I told you I thought about you everyday, and every time I did I wrote you a letter.” 

She stares at the letter in her hand, gently ripping it open and devouring the words on the page. Nerves shoot up and down his body as he watches her read his most private thoughts about her, her expressive face for once empty of emotions as she silently reads the letter. 

He waits. 

Breathless and terrified. 

“Why didn’t you ever send them? They were mine so why did you keep them?” He hears an edge in her voice that makes him wonder if she’s only talking about the letters. 

“Cha-young, I don’t think you understand.” 

She breathes out loudly, stomping over to him until they are inches apart and he has no choice but to look into the deep pool of her eyes. 

“I don’t! I don’t understand anything, I thought you had found someone else in Malta and the postcards were just your way of being nice. I thought you didn’t feel the same way I did, you were sending Han Seo letters but you wouldn’t do the same for me. What was I supposed to think? Why didn’t you try to help me understand, you were gone for six months!” 

There’s so much wrong with everything she said, how could he find anyone else when his heart beats for her? How could he forget her when everything he did reminded him of her, he saw her every night in his dreams. But he doesn’t make the same mistake this time, he says what’s important. 

“I feel the same way. I love you Cha-young. I thought this was better for you, that this could be enough. But I was wrong, I missed you every minute of every--” 

“Come home with me.” 

He stops, stares, gapes and then stares some more. 

“What? I wasn’t finished confessing though.” Actually offended that she interrupted his planned speech. He was about to recite one of his favorite Italian love poems for her and then ask her to dance. 

She rolls her eyes dragging him towards the door, “Don’t you think we’ve wasted enough time? It’s been six months and you have been here for too long, you have to go soon.” 

She’s right, he has a flight in two days for an identity he borrowed for his escape. 

“Listen to her, just go back to her place and have a good night!” That sounds like Cheol-Wook and then they all erupt into applause and start cheering and hollering, chanting their names and then to his embarrassment they start chanting, “Go have sex! Go have sex!” complete with the monks banging on their drums and he doesn’t think he will ever live down this moment, especially when he sees Miri capturing it on the new video camera he had gifted her. 

He flips them off as an eager Cha-young pulls him away their laughter following them all the way. 

The car ride is too long on the way over and she wonders how quickly she can undress them both as soon as they reach, there is simply no time to waste. 

But once they get to the doorstep he suddenly freezes, tugging her backwards into his chest. 

“This looks familiar doesn’t it?” His voice is dark and smoky and she immediately knows what he’s referring to, and she refuses to give him any reaction. 

“Are you seriously doing this right now?” 

“You let someone else touch you. Here.” He runs a hand up her neck, briefly squeezing, “And here,” she gasps at his hands suddenly on her breast, squeezing harshly at the tender flesh. 

“So what are you going to do about it?” She knows that she’s playing with fire, but that is their foundation. She has never aimed to cool him off or tone him down, she sees the dark side inside of him and loves it, encourages it and feeds on it herself allowing it to bring her darkness out too. 

He kicks the door open, shoving her side and she delights at the rough treatment. She hopes that she is filled with his bruises tomorrow. 

She doesn’t wait for his next move, pulling her shirt up and over her head before tugging off her skirt leaving herself in a barely there lace panties and a matching lace bra that is translucent, her nipples peeking through the sheer material. He stares at her transfixed, his hunger evident in his eyes and in the tent forming in his tight dress pants. 

“Take those off.” She commands and he smirks before obeying, peeling the pants off his thighs standing in his button down shirt and tight boxer briefs that leave nothing to her imagination, every delicious inch of him visible. She steps forward bringing their bodies in contact, before thrusting her hand inside the opening of his briefs. He feels hard and smooth, liquid pooling at the tip and she twists her hand collecting it to ease her slow strokes up and down. His voice hitches as she fingers his balls and without warning she tugs his boxers off, leaving him bare to her eyes. 

Mesmerized by the unencumbered sight of him, she drops to her knees using her hand to guide him to her eagerly waiting mouth. 

His flavor explodes on her tongue and she swallows more, grabbing his hips to drag him deeper into her mouth until she can feel him in her throat, but even after her eyes start to burn and she feels herself choking she doesn’t stop, bobbing up and down hungrily, sloppy wet sounds filling the room in a filthy symphony. At first he lets her control the movement, pliant in her hands but as she increases her speed and suction he starts groaning and huffing loudly and then she feels his hand on the back of her hand, keeping her in place and when she looks up at him he looks wrecked. Eyes dazed and his face red and flushed, she ingrains that image in her mind, for when he’s gone and all she has are her toys. 

She stares back defiantly before he draws himself out of her mouth, a single line of spit connecting them and then he thrusts back into her mouth roughly and she opens her mouth wider to accept the abuse, loving every second of it even as a her throat aches. He sets a frantic pace, his balls slamming against her chin and she doesn’t realize at first that his grunts have transformed into words, too much blood rushing to her head. 

“Mine. Mine, nobody can---ah fuck! Nobody can see you like this. Only me. You’re mine.” 

He fucks her mouth like it’s his to use and do what he pleases, and she’s wetter than she’s ever been listening to him claim her verbally and with the wet push of his dick in her mouth. 

She starts grinding on the floor like a cat in heat and without preamble he grabs her under her armpits and lifts her like she weighs nothing, his dick sliding free from her hot mouth, “I want to make you scream.” He says this like a declaration of love and she throws herself at him, kissing the words off his lips. His tongue swirls in her mouth and she wonders if he can taste himself in her. It makes her hotter and she grinds her barely covered pussy onto his naked length, groaning at the friction even though the thin layer separating them. 

He tosses her onto the bed and she doesn’t even remember them walking, his tongue and his wondering fingers had completely distracted her. 

She lays sprawled across the bed as he stares at her, like she’s feast he can’t wait to devour. 

“Nobody has been in here.” She doesn’t know if he’s asking a question or making a statement, but she feels that his jealousy is real. Seeing her with someone else had done something to him, guilt washes over her. If she had seen him with someone else she would have lost her mind too. 

“Nobody. I never brought anyone home before, that guy was a mistake. I was just hurt and missing you. I’m sorry.” 

He had abandoned her for six months and she didn’t owe him anything but his pain is her pain and they are stronger now, everything has been said. 

“Good.” 

Then he rips her panties away and buries his face between her legs, prying her wide open with his hands and lapping at her with his searing hot tongue. Immediately he has his wish and she screams, loud enough to fill the entire room. 

“Already screaming amore? It’s going to be a long night, I want to make you hoarse.”  

She doesn’t get a moment to respond before he’s back to licking and sucking at her most sacred part, fingers deep inside her as he thrusts and strokes alongside his tongue, his fingers and tongue moving in tandem and she tries to stifle the scream but a particularly deep fuck makes the sound erupt from her throat and her head feels dizzy from the overwhelming sensation. 

He has boundless energy it seems, as time drags by and she feels her body tightening up as he systemically destroys her, he never takes a break or pauses, slurping up all the liquid that drips from her and the sounds of him swallowing are beyond erotic. When a hand runs up her stomach and squeezes at a bouncing breast she can’t contain her moans of pleasure, crying out as his fingers pinching the tight bud of her nipple. 

“Please.” 

He coos in her, “So pretty when you beg.” Then he sticks his tongue as far as it can go and she hears the rush of blood in her head as her body shakes apart and her release gushes from her body, twitching when he laps it all up her oversensitive body recoiling from the overstimulation. 

She has never come like that before, most men have never put in the work necessary to make her come and she wasn’t one to fake it so her experiences with sex with someone else were few and far in between. 

This feels like nirvana. 

“You still with me amore?” The bastard looks so smug, looming above her naked arms on the side of her head, and she had no idea when he took his shirt off. 

“I can’t feel like my legs.” 

He chuckles loudly at the statement, grinning growing wider. 

“Well I can assure you that they’re still there and they will look great wrapped around my waist.” 

Raising to his challenge, although her body is still buzzing she wraps her legs around his waist, they feel like jelly but she finds the strength to follow through with her movement. 

“I was right they do look great.” 

“Well this would look great in me.” She counters, grabbing at his thick ruddy red dick jutting from his body and he rocks into her hand before knocking her hand away and taking himself in his hand. 

“Do we need a condom?” He asks her, looking like he is ready to stop at nay minute if she tells him that they do. 

“No.” 

She has been on birth control since she was a teen and there’s been no one for her since she met him, and she trusts that it’s been the same for him. 

“Thank goodness, I want to feel everything.” He barely finishes his sentence before he’s easing into her, slow and steady. She lets him continue for a moment before she tightens her legs around his waist and pulls him in roughly, as deep as she can get him in this position. “Fuck, you’re so impatient.” 

“Shut up and fuck me already.” 

He grumbles at her calling her bossy, but she sighs when he draws out and slams back in with a quick snap of his hips. 

“Yes just like that!” 

He takes direction very well, repeating the motion until the bed starts to creak from their movements, he pistons in and out of her gone all semblance of gentle or slow, they have teetered into a speed that can only be defined as “break neck” and she feels her body sliding up the mattress as he pounds into her over and over again, she latches onto his neck eager to leave a branding mark on him and he groans at the suction, grinding harder into her and gripping her ass to force her to meet his vicious thrusts. 

Absently she feels him peeling her bra from her body, the only remaining item of clothing that has survived their coupling and she knows exactly when he sees the scar. The grotesque knitting of skin that had left a permanent scar on her shoulder, she almost covers it up but when she peels her eyes open he is staring at her mesmerized. 

“Don’t look.” 

He leans down to kiss it, the softest more precious kiss she has ever received in her life. 

He peppers more kisses all over, then strokes at it with a single finger. 

“I should have realized, this was your confession. I was an idiot. I will never be that stupid again, I love you so much. I would do anything for you. Anything.” 

He puts her legs on her shoulder, nearly bending her in half before resuming his thrusts but they are less frenzied now, it feels like lovemaking. Her eyes prickle when he kisses her scar with every downward thrust, whispering, “Beautiful, so beautiful. Every inch of you.” 

She cries out. 

With every thrust he kisses her scar, making her feel lightheaded and naked. 

When he moves them into a new position, her back to his front giving him better access to her scar, she loses herself as he whispers sweet nothings into her ears and litters the spot with warm kisses. 

She falls off the edge with his lips on her scar and him deep inside her, warm bursts filling her up before leaking out onto the bed sheets. 

“Today’s our last day.” 

Waking up next to him is torture, she tries not to ingrain that in her mind but it’s too late it’s already there. He blinks away the sleep in his eyes at her words and then nods solemnly in agreement. 

“Yes for this visit. But I’ll always come back for you.” 

She smiles brightly, “Don’t keep me waiting for too long.” 

They don’t leave the bed except to get breakfast and that ends with her laid across the kitchen table getting taken from behind after teasing him. He can’t seem to keep his hands off her new hair, twisting the short strands in his hands and yanking on them. She catches him looking at her heatedly more than once. 

Then they wind up in the shower, trying to clean up and getting dirtier instead, his hands tight in her hair and around her waist as he hoists her up to pound her into the wall. Making up for lost time. 

They get messages from their entire family, Vincenzo showing her a message from Han Seo asking if he’s going to be an uncle soon. She promises to embarrass him in front of Miri very, very soon. 

Both pretend they don’t feel the day fading away, bringing them closer to their goodbye. 

Tomorrow he will be gone again, but there’s no guessing now. She knows what she means to him now and that’s more than enough. 

She wakes up to an empty bed and a ticket to Malta, the ball is in her court. 

[itsuki-minamy]

“K - THE FIRST STORY”

CHAPTER 13: ADDY (Complete)

* K - The First Story (List of Chapters) * Projects & Chapters

Translation: Naru-kun Raws: Ridia

His world was made up of many books and his sister.

Immediately after being called a genius brother, his life changed. They took him out of a school where ordinary children gathered and told him to study in a place where all the people around him were adults. There was no dissatisfaction or loneliness about it. He did not find anything funny in the school lessons that tried to teach what he already knew in a simple and one-sided way, and even in an environment without children of the same age, there was no problem as long as he had his older sister.

For him, a large number of books was better than a teacher, and the knowledge he gained from discussions with his sister became more and more profound. With his sister, he was absorbed in learning various things with his intellectual curiosity. The adults around them generously gave them what they needed to learn.

They told him to take part in the German military investigation when he was fifteen and his sister was seventeen.

They joined the military investigation team as requested. It was a tribute to the fact that they were given an environment to learn, and he also thought that the research and development site would be a place where they could play an active role.

Starting with the development and design of new weapons in the Artillery Board, they achieved several results. Apart from military research and development work, they wrote several treatises and obtained a doctorate. The teenage brothers' medical advancements were well received and sought after in the military, architecture, industry, and many other fields, and they did well everywhere.

It was in 1943, when he was 20 years old, that they were appointed chief and deputy director of a strange investigation.

"This is the Slate."

In the basement of a church in Dresden, he crossed his arms in front of the huge stone. Next door, his sister, Claudia, looked at him with a serious expression.

"Yes. This was embedded in the innermost wall of this underground worship hall until two years ago. There were rumors that a believer might see a miracle, and the institution of 'ancestral inheritance' excavated it. Due to this size, they did not carry it out and keep it here. Two months ago, in front of the guards, the same miracle that the believers saw happened."

He stood with his head held high when he heard the words of an investigator who was to be a subordinate in this investigation.

"It is a procession of the Holy Sun Han. A few feather insects formed a procession with a bright red light in front of this 'stone slate', and finally they were burned."

Well. The researcher looked deeply.

He approached the "Slate" and gently touched the surface with a geometric maze-like pattern.

It felt like a smooth rock. The hardness did not appear to be that high to the touch. However, the usual method has been found not to harm one.

"I wonder if the 'Slate' emits some kind of energy that affects living organisms. What do you think, sister?"

The older sister squeezed her kind expression, always smiling, and looked at the "Slate" with investigative eyes.

"It is too early to hypothesize that this bedrock itself is energetic. Perhaps the cause of the St. Johann procession was direct contact with the energetic magma or residual heat from the rock. I need a verification multifaceted."

"Yes. It seems that the truth of magma is a long way off, but let's start with the observation. It is very interesting. This 'Slate' has tremendous potential that no one has touched yet."

"I am also curious about the inscription on the stone monument that was excavated with the 'Slate'. The word 'King' written in modified Latin letters."

"I think the investigation begins in that area. It is a good place to probe, but it is very exciting, sister!"

When he returned his smile with his growing expectations and curiosity, she smiled as if she was in awe.

"Addy. You're like a kid again..."

Even if they called him a doctor, he would still be a child. With his sister, he was a free-spirited younger brother who was intellectually curious and enjoyed chasing what was in front of him, much like a child playing with toys.

"I feel like I can do it if you are with me, sister."

That said, the investigation on the "Slate" was extremely difficult.

He was appointed principal investigator of the investigation called "Project König", and his sister was appointed deputy director, and the elite investigators and the most modern equipment were prepared, but it was difficult to see the progress that seemed to be progressing.

To study the miracle, they first had to recreate the miracle. However, there was a long way to go to find out what factors could cause it.

For the moment, it took time to prepare all the measuring equipment, restore and decipher the pieces of the stone monument.

The investigation progressed dramatically after a Japanese officer arrived from Japan, an ally of the Third German Empire, in March of the following year.

Lieutenant Daikaku Kokujoji.

The encounter with him was important in his investigation of the "Slate" and in his life.

"It was an idea that he couldn't reach unless he met the Japanese magic lieutenant."

As he walked down the hall with his research materials, he said that he was ill. The lieutenant walking beside him flirted with a serious face.

"The opinions of the magic side would have been unacceptable to you, but thanks to the fluid understanding of the theoretical system based on the Five Element Thought, the progress of the investigation was rapid."

Lieutenant Kokujoji seemed to come from an "Onmyouji family" and was connected to a path that could only be described as "Japanese magic". The analysis of the "Slate" that the lieutenant had made from that perspective had taken a leap forward in the investigation of the brothers.

The Five Pillars is an idea based on the five elements of wood, fire, earth, gold and water. It seems that the "Slate", which suppresses the original power by sealing one of the items, was simply sealed like this.

The lieutenant used his technique to break a part of the seal and gave him knowledge. To be honest, he was too unknown to come to a full understanding, but he was able to continue developing equipment to operate the "Slate", and his sister and he built the theory of the energy that the "Slate" possesses.

"I don't think science is everything. If you stick only to the world you are aware of, you cannot wait for development. Thanks to the lieutenant, my world has expanded and I am sure it will expand even more in the future. W deflection modulator seems to be able to start early next year if it is in this condition."

He and the lieutenant were in the process of carrying out the institute's reports.

The Institute of the "König Project" uses the basement of the church where the "Slate" was found as it is. The place that should have been harsh is sacred because it is buried with various research equipment and materials. The air had completely vanished, but it was a familiar place to him, like his nest. In fact, his sister and he were building a house in a corner of this church. It was a small place for the brothers to live while they remodeled.

"Addy."

He hears a soft female voice. When he saw her, Claudia was across the hall.

The older sister who left the area where they lived approached them with a short run.

The lieutenant who stopped next to her seemed to stiffen his spine and was a little nervous. But this was not a bad tension. It is a thoughtful attitude of a young man towards a woman of strange age, and a reaction of a man named Kokujoji Daikaku towards a woman named Claudia Weismann who is "a little excited".

When she arrived in front of them, she first bowed slightly to the lieutenant. Her silver hair flowed smoothly from her shoulders. She had a soft smile on her gentle and delicate face.

His sister's facial expressions and movements were very graceful, but this is a bit different than when they were alone. In front of him, she came out more "squeaky", but with the lieutenant, she became a little softer and more feminine. A woman named Claudia Weismann was shown in front of a man named Daikaku Kokujoji, like a cute kitten.

"Thank you for your hard work, Lieutenant Kokujoji. Addy, are you ready to go to Berlin?"

"Yes. These are all supplies to bring."

He slightly lifted the box of supplies he was holding on his arm.

He was about to go to the party headquarters in Berlin to report on the current status of the "König Project". His sister and he were heading to Berlin with the lieutenant to explain that the long-defeated "Slate" investigation had finally progressed.

When he got up from the basement and opened the church door, it was raining outside. Large raindrops fell to the ground.

"It's raining. It's bad if the material gets wet..."

"No problem. I have an umbrella. Use it."

The lieutenant said that and opened an umbrella.

It was a red Japanese umbrella.

The skeleton was made of bamboo and lined with elegant red Japanese paper. The waterproof Japanese paper had a low sheen.

"Wow, a Japanese umbrella? It's cool."

"It's called an umbrella."

His sister, not the lieutenant, replied him, who gave a voice of admiration.

His sister had become thoroughly familiar with Japanese culture since she met the lieutenant. After the lieutenant sorted the Japanese ingredients that he received from his homeland, she became very interested in Japanese food, and had recently been thinking about it herself.

His older sister slid her slender finger over the bamboo handle of the lieutenant's umbrella.

"This is the first time I have seen something real. The skeleton is very beautiful."

His sister looked happily at the umbrella with a face that seemed delighted. The sound of raindrops falling on Japanese paper was a bit different from the sound of an ordinary umbrella and was pleasant to the ear.

"I want to go to Japan one day. In fact, I will see the culture and climate of the country where the lieutenant was born and raised."

His sister's suggestion made his heart stand out.

"I like it! Lieutenant, please give us a guide at that time."

She wondered if she would get a small answer, like a little carefree, but the lieutenant moved the military cap a little to hide his eyes from her and replied: "Yes.", in a shy way.

"I'm sure you will like it."

His sister and he looked at each other and smiled.

The three of them huddled like little birds in the lieutenant's red umbrella and walked a short distance to the car in a playful way.

The lieutenant was a collaborator in the investigation and at the same time the only friend to him and his sister.

The presence of the lieutenant blew a new breeze on both brothers who lived in a closed world with a wide range of knowledge, dedicated to study and research from a very young age.

Of course they talked about the "Slate" investigation, but they also talked a lot about other things.

The lieutenant listened with interest to the story of the investigation that his sister and he had done so far, and both he and his sister loved hearing the story of Japan from the lieutenant. The discussion with the lieutenant, who gave a sharp opinion from a different point of view than his sister, tended to be enthusiastic.

When the investigation got off to a good start, they had more work for their investigators than the lieutenant, and they loaned several books to the lieutenant who used to have more time. The lieutenant was a good reader, he read romantic poetry books that don't look good on his face, he read military books that fit his face and other books like history books, literature, plays, political science books, books of economy and several specialized books. He read anything. For Christmas, he also loaned her the first edition of "A Christmas Carol" that he read as a child. It was nice to see that lieutenant reading the fairy tale with a serious face.

He liked the printing of the book the lieutenant had.

Initially, the party headquarters in Berlin, rushed towards the outcome of the "König Project" and eager to hear the report, gradually waned interest in the investigation. The war situation deteriorated and there was no space to devote to research and other non-immediate effects.

Still, he was not told to stop the study. They continued the investigation of the "Slate", they left it half abandoned and unexpected. In a war that was to be ruined like an avalanche, they lurked in the underground laboratory of a quiet church in Dresden, on an isolated island, as they watched the violent muddy currents around them.

It may sound unscrupulous, but for him, the time spent there was a modest amount of happiness. He was able to dream the biggest dream of his life in a miserable time.

He hoped that, if this dream were to come true, it would glow in an era closed to darkness, leading to the realization of a world where everyone can be happy, regardless of war, enemies, or allies.

Almost a year after the lieutenant's arrival in Germany, the experiment that he believed in took shape and that led to the realization of that dream.

Based on the theory brought up by the lieutenant, his sister-designed W deflection modulator was completed by the end of the year. The functional test had been repeated since the beginning of the year and the results were obtained.

"Today, a formal initial experiment of the 'Slate' will be conducted with the presence of the lieutenant."

Before going to work, he put on a new lab coat to get excited. Commuting to work was just a short walk down the hall to institute. As he dressed in the living room shared with his sister, he suddenly noticed the carved wooden doll that was carefully displayed on the shelf and smirked.

It was a hand-carved klippe for him, the lieutenant, and everyone in the lab at Christmas. A set of dolls showing the Nativity scene. Centered around the Virgin Mary and Christ, Saint Joseph, the Magi and the angels are aligned. Between them, the two magicians, Gaspar and Melchor, were the work of him and the lieutenant. The personality and characteristics of each creator were reflected in strange ways, and it was strange that he and the lieutenant seemed to be lined up with mysterious faces.

It was the Christmas they held to hold their breath during the war, but that night, where he rode around the klippe he made for his sister, and a little gift with his sister and the lieutenant, was probably the most fun he'd ever had, can have been a holy night with hope for the future

Hope, yes, hope. He had hope beyond the miracles that this "Slate" brought. The lieutenant often raised concerns due to his personality, but is also passionate about the possibility of the "Slate."

He had never had a friend, but he thought he would be fine if he was with his older sister, but found the joy of working toward the same goal as his friend.

"Today I have to show the results."

Hoping the world would change, he turned over a new lab coat and headed for the "Slate".

That day there was tension between the investigators around the "Slate" due to an experiment that left an official video record to inform the top management.

"Ready to measure."

"Checking the Camera Operation."

"There is no abnormality on the 'Slate'."

"You can start the experiment."

"What about the example mouse?"

"Dr. Weissman will bring it in now."

With the serious voices of the aspirants flying around and the cage with the mouse in it, he walks to the experimental field connected to the "Slate".

The back of the mouse in the cage was marked in blue with ink. This mouse was a small creature with great "potential" that woke up during the "Slate" test the other day.

An experimental field, a dozen white mice had already been released into a large mouse maze almost 10 meters long, and they moved as they wished.

After confirming the situation, he lifted the mouse bearing the blue mark from inside the cage as if picking it up with both hands.

When he looked up, she found a serious-looking lieutenant standing in front of the experimental field. That day, it was the first time that he would witness the results of an experiment. After involuntarily smiling, he gently stroked the back of the mouse in his hand.

"Alright, it's time, little mouse. Show the good points to the lieutenant from Japan."

Showing the mouse he was holding, one of the researchers asked the lieutenant to listen.

"It is an experimental organism of the EX-Alpha group. It is under the influence of the 'Slate'."

EX-Alpha, that's what the "King" shows engraved on the stone monument excavated with the "Slate".

He gently left the mouse in a labyrinthine experimental field. An investigator in charge of the recording announced the start of the experiment.

"The blue mouse is ready."

The mouse was clearly different from the other mice that roamed the maze in an irregular manner. Lifting and wiggling his little nose, he catches the light of reason in his eyes and look around.

Suddenly, the "Slate" began to emit a faint blue glow. Just by looking at the sacred blue light from the "Slate" that had been there for a long time, he felt the unholy joy of receiving a colorful reaction from a person who had refused to approach for a long time.

A blue mouse in the experimental field was stained with blue light in response to the glare from the "Slate".

The bright light was also generated in the air one meter above the blue mouse. A sword-shaped crystal appeared from the round blue light.

"There is a reaction to the 'Slate'."

"Sword-shaped glow confirmation."

As the researchers watched, the blue mouse stood on its hind legs, wearing a blue light, and looked at the sword that appeared above it.

It was a beautiful blue sword with a hard mechanical shape. To humans, the little sword would appear huge to the mouse. The sword gleamed solemnly, point down. He believed that the sword-shaped blue glow is a symbol of "order."

After a while, the blue mouse started running through the maze of the experimental field without hesitation.

He never hit a dead end or wander in the same place. With a movement of being convinced of the way forward, he ran through the maze without hesitation.

Then the other mice moving through the maze suddenly changed their movements. They began to run with will and determined stride, and followed the blue mouse.

The mice formed a group and began to take in the same blue light as the blue mouse running in front.

The mice quickly went through the maze in the shortest distance, and when they reached the open area, they lined up behind the blue mouse and stood on its hind legs.

It was a strange sight. It didn't look like the action performed by a mouse, and he wondered if it was a mouse-shaped toy made by a human. However, this was the power of the group with the EX-Alpha of an individual "King". The group, led by the "King", with its sword-like blue glow, exhibited controlled demeanor and abilities comparable to trained human soldiers.

The lieutenant overseeing the experiment was impressed.

"Incredible! Will such power appear in humans?"

"Sorry, but this is just the tip of the iceberg."

Satisfied with the lieutenant's reaction, he smiled. He began to explain with an excited heart, illustrating on the board.

"The strength of the link with the "Slate" is proportional to the complexity of the brain. To be more precise, the deviation from the law of chance creates a force field that envelops the Beta bodies in the vicinity, as it increases its intensity in the form of a geometric progression. As a result..."

"Will an army of super humans be born...?"

The lieutenant said in a heavy voice.

Certainly, that is why the party is investigating the "Slate". Bring the miracle of the "Slate" to humans, create immortal soldiers, form an invincible army, and finally create an immortal realm of the Aryan scientific race with the "Transcendental Master Race". Of course, he knew that "miracles" were needed to reverse the crisis.

But besides that, he denied the lieutenant's words.

"No, lieutenant."

He wrote "Freude!" on the blackboard and laughed at the lieutenant.

"This will bring happiness to everyone."

What he saw was not the victory of the country. This "Slate" shouldn't be used for something so small. What he saw was the happiness of humanity that would enter a new horizon after ending such a foolish war.

When the lieutenant answered something, there was an explosion.

"Red mouse, shot down!"

One of the investigators yelled.

When he saw it, a mouse maze that was not the experimental field where he was filming exploded and broke.

A mouse with a red mark on its back lay in the rubble of a maze that was broken and strewn across the ground.

The power of the red mouse seems to have escaped. A red, sword-shaped glow spawned in the air a meter above him.

The red mouse had been confirmed to have a tough temperament and the ability to provoke a firing phenomenon. Since he doesn't do well with the blue mouse, he let him play in a remote-placed maze, but it may have been stimulated by the generation of the sword-shaped blue glow.

He giggled cheating as he pondered the fact that he should have kept it in a separate room, and he heard a woman's voice saying "Addy!"

Perhaps he rushed after hearing the explosion, his sister was standing. Recently, his sister was doing research on her own and she was often in charge of the "König Project".

As always, he was glad to see her face and shouted: "Sister!", and raised his hand. The lieutenant was worshiping in silence.

His sister ignored him and spoke to the lieutenant.

"That... is there a problem with my little brother?"

"I just showed you the experiment. Right, Lieutenant?"

"We have confirmed the remarkable results. It is truly surprising."

"Well! But the lieutenant thinks these kids are like tools of war or something! It's terrible, isn't it?"

When he made a fool of himself, his sister yelled at him, scolded him like a son, and pinched his side hard.

"You shouldn't say such things out loud. We are receiving a stipend for your research."

"That hurts, sister!"

The older sister who scolded him like when she was alone with her brother, she remembered being seen by the lieutenant, and she smiled a cute smile that seemed to repair itself when she hastily let go of her hand.

"Ah... Lieutenant Kokujoji. Please... ignore what I just said."

She wondered how he reacted to her. The lieutenant, who always maintained his strict demeanor, wandered his gaze in slight consternation and replied.

"Hmm... Don't worry, I don't understand technical jargon anyway."

Before the serious answer, his sister and him, looked at each other and laughed at the same time.

In front of them laughing, the lieutenant was trying to put on a serious and expressionless expression, but when he saw his sister, he lowered his gaze a bit embarrassed.

The miracle caused by the "Slate" would create a world where everyone was happy. It was the day that the dream they had begun to take concrete form and he took the first step.

It was supposed to be like this.

Dresden was a city that remained beautiful during the long war, with little damage from air raids.

Many Germans said that Dresden, which had nothing to do with the munitions industry and had little military importance and was lined with beautiful historical buildings or had high cultural value, would not be damaged by airstrikes.

It happened on February 13, 1945.

A myriad of Lancaster bombers flew over Dresden, showering blocks and incendiary bombs.

The city became a sea of ​​fire and many people died. They were evacuated to the bomb shelter, but many of them were vaporized.

The city of Dresden, where the anti-aircraft guns were no longer working when the air defense organizations moved to the front, was left unprotected and unilaterally conquered.

His sister, Claudia Weismann, also died there.

"Sister! Sister!"

A roar shook the underground laboratory intermittently. The smoke rushed in and visibility was poor. The upper church could be on fire. The air was terribly hot. It was painful from the lack of oxygen.

He moistened the washcloth with the jug beside the bed, covered his mouth, and crawled across the floor.

His sister was not in her room. Recently, his sister seemed to be studying the "Slate" from another direction by herself. Not being in the room probably meant that she was with the "Slate". He whispered to his consciousness from afar and crawled desperately forward.

"Sister! Uh, ugh…"

As a consequence of calling his sister and screaming, he inhaled smoke and suffocated.

Still, he didn't stop and called his sister many times in a weak voice.

It took an enormous amount of time to walk down the corridor, which would normally walk too fast, and push the door to the lab room with the "Slate" to open it.

Immediately after that, heat rushed from the hall to the point that it was incomparable to the hallway. He accidentally closed his eyes. He managed to open his eyelids, which he didn't want to open to protect his eyes from the heat, and he saw the scene from the hallway that was in the lab.

The roof had fallen.

The collapsed rocky shoreline was crushing the experimental equipment. It was the "Slate" and the body of the woman that collapsed in front of it that left a safe form.

"Sister!"

He ran as best he could and hugged her. His sister's body had lost all power and felt heavy. She had almost no scars on her body and she closed her eyes with a calm expression to sleep, but she was not breathing. There was no pulse.

His sister, Claudia Weissman, was dead.

On the roof of the collapsed hall, the part of the church on the floor was raging with fierce fire. The air was boiling. The moment the roof came off, he breathed in the hot air that had entered, he burned his throat and suffocated.

He was looking up in a daze as he held his sister.

He couldn't think of anything. They, who were said to be the two-headed geniuses of the Third German Empire, were once again unable to think of anything, and one was useless and vaguely gazed at the sky.

The flame swirled. The roof of the church had already disappeared, either from flames or bullets, and he could see the sky beyond the flames.

The bomber was flying. Although that was hell, they never got tired of it and kept dropping bombs. From above, despair fell one after another.

He vaguely thought that he wanted an umbrella.

A soft umbrella that would protect him from this despair.

One rainy day, he remembers that the three of them got into the Japanese umbrella that the lieutenant was carrying.

The lieutenant protected him and his sister from the rain, while he wet his shoulders and back.

The sound of the rain hitting the umbrella was soft.

His sister was laughing happily.

(I want to go to Japan one day.)

When he realized it, he didn't feel the heat or the pain that had been bothering him.

He looked at his body slowly.

His body glowed pale silver.

He looked away from him. The "Slate" also emitted the same silver light as his body. He knew that scene. That was a luminescence phenomenon that occurred when an EX-Alpha individual was born in an experiment with mice, in which a W shift modulator activated the "Slate".

He looked up again.

A silver light was born in the night sky where black and red mixed reflecting the color of the flame.

The light fell apart and spread like an umbrella.

The umbrella of silver light that appeared above his head glowed for a while and then lost its shape and became the shape of a pointed down sword.

It was a sword-shaped glow.

A huge sword-shaped silver glow that was incomparable to what appeared on the mouse, was silently floating in the night sky that dispersed despair.

A bomb fell next to him. He could feel it. The detonation would take his eyesight and the scattered projectiles would hit his body.

However, that which would have ripped his limbs apart in an instant, did not inflict a single scratch on his body.

He, his sister's body, and the "Slate" that stood abruptly while the surrounding substances could not retain their original form, were there without any damage.

He was an EX-Alpha individual, that is, the "King" who displayed the stone monument, the "transcendental master race" who sought the party headquarters, and had the power to "make everyone happy". It was what he believed.

"Sister?"

He shook his sister in his arms and called out to her. If he had become a "King" with paranormal power, he now only had one wish.

"Sister, get up."

By incorporating others into the feedback loop of the causal bias generated by the EX-Alpha individuals, a new causal bias is generated and 8 individuals are produced. In other words, it is possible to give birth to a "member" who has shared the power of the "King".

He instinctively knew how to do it. The brain naturally understands more than the knowledge acquired as a result of research and experiments. Upon becoming an EX-Alpha individual, a strong resonant action occurred between him and the "Slate", and what could be called the memory of the "Slate" was flowing.

"Sister, take my power. I won't hurt myself anymore. The sore throat that just burned me is gone. I won't hurt myself or die. So, sister, you too."

He developed his own strength and continued to pour it into his sister. Waiting for an answer from his sister. If possible, he wanted to give everything he had to his sister.

But his sister never opened her eyes. His sister was dead. The power of the "King" cannot bring the dead back to life. Everything was slow.

He was supposed to be the "King", and he only held the corpse of a single family member helplessly.

How long had it been like this?

Before he knew it, the hellish night was over and the bombardment had stopped.

The sky was white and the early morning air was rapidly cooling the rubble of the city, which had been set ablaze by fierce fire.

He heard the sound of military boots running in the quiet that made him think that all the creatures had died.

When he raised his face, he saw a lieutenant out of breath.

The lieutenant was supposed to have been in Berlin, but hurried after hearing the news of the Dresden bombing.

He laughed softly at the lieutenant who stood up with a clear face. His cheeks shook his smile, and for the first time he realized that he was crying all the time.

"Lieutenant. My sister..."

His sister's body was already cold.

The lieutenant moved to Berlin with him, which was completely useless.

The Dresden bombing was divided into several waves and continued into the next day, resulting in a tremendous number of deaths. Due to the large number of evacuees and refugees in Dresden, which was thought to be safe, it seemed difficult to determine the exact number of deaths. Many of the bodies were burned by a whirlwind of fire and suffered indistinguishable damage.

For a few days, he was dumbfounded. The lieutenant told the party headquarters that he had become the first of what they called a "transcendental master race" by the "Slate." In fact, at that time, he was like a wooden puppet, far from being a "transcendental master race" or a "King". As an investigator that he was pitifully burned to no avail, he was left unguarded.

"The reason for the bombing was found."

One day, a few weeks after the Dresden bombing, the lieutenant approached him and said.

"It was a leak of information. The allied forces that seized the existence of the 'Project König' decided that it was a threat to eliminate."

The lieutenant's voice was clear. No anger or sadness appeared on the surface, and he made a calm, unwavering and firm voice.

"Weissman. If you still desire the realization of your ideals, abandon your human life from this moment on."

Hearing the lieutenant's voice, he couldn't even lift his face as he sat on a chair and was choking.

"He reigns as the only 'King' and rules all human beings. He condemns the fools. The equality and prosperity of humanity can only be achieved by having the power of ruin beyond human intelligence."

He understood the lieutenant's words. They had been thinking of ways to make the miracle of that "Slate" desirable as they progressed with the investigation. That was probably the lieutenant's answer.

On the other hand, he had been thinking about it. How to make everyone happy.

But now he couldn't quite remember his thoughts.

"Fulfill the "King's" responsibilities."

He couldn't think of his thoughts. Of course he couldn't even put it into words. Still, he had the feeling that the lieutenant's words were "different."

He just shook his head wordlessly.

"Actually…"

The lieutenant said in a low voice and took the holster from his waist. He pull out the pistol and point it at him in one fluid motion.

"If you don't, I will. But there shouldn't be two 'kings' on earth."

The lieutenant's finger went off. He looked up and slowly compared the barrel, which was aimed at his forehead, with the face of the lieutenant, who was determined to look.

"A bullet... Is that the punishment for the great dream we had?"

"No. Weissman, you don't have to suffer anymore. If your dreams are sins, I will take full responsibility and punishment."

The lieutenant's voice remained calm. It already seemed to carry everything. The prayers of the late Claudia, the work of his trying to get rid of the great responsibility of the "King" and the lives of the people of Dresden who were burned due to the investigation.

"As the only 'King', I will carry all the hatred and resentment of the earth on my back and fall into hell. Therefore, I will not meet you in that world... Say hello to Claudia."

The lieutenant fired.

Shots rang out, but the bullet missed his forehead.

The bullet was still in midair in front of his head, as if it had driven into a transparent wall.

"It's useless…"

He said he, powerless in words.

"That's not good... Lieutenant, fear cannot make people happy."

The form of the dream he had was no longer uncertain. But he did not want to make the in-between world brought about by the rule of a lonely "King" beyond dreams.

"Give me time. The answer is... I'm sure there is a way to happiness."

The bullet that was parked in the air exploded and disappeared. No matter what the shell is, he was already a "King". Nothing could hurt his body, he was the "King".

The lieutenant waited without lowering the weapon.

"Do you think I can believe your words right now?"

"I do not know..."

He got up slowly and managed to laugh at the lieutenant, feeling that he was crying.

"If she was my older sister, I'm sure she would say that."

At that moment, the expression of the lieutenant that he hadn't trembled for a long time was distorted.

He said that with a mixture of anger, sadness and various other emotions and stopped.

In the end, the lieutenant never let go of the passion he had been through, but simply turned his back on him silently.

Two days later, he was kidnapped by a command unit of the United States Army.

"Dr. Adolf K. Weissmann, right?"

The men who intervened were camouflaged in German army field clothes, but it soon became clear that they were American special forces who came to seize the technology related to the "Slate".

Information about the "König Project" was leaked to the Allies, which was revealed in the event of the Dresden bombing. Not only did the "Slate" study eliminate the potential threat from the Third German Empire, but the United States seemed to have been interested in the technology itself. It was a plan that was about to be abandoned by the German center, but he vaguely thought it was ironic.

They stopped and seized him, and began a march into the mountains with the goal of joining the Allied forces clinging to the Western Front.

He did not resist at all. He was not afraid of the multiple weapons pointed at him, they handcuffed him and a soldier grabbed his arm roughly. It would take the power of the "King" to break the steel handcuffs that had been placed on both wrists. He was afraid of him.

It was not the judgment that he should hide the fact that he was a superhuman created by the "Slate". But stronger than that, the reason why he made the decision not to resist was an unmistakable "fear".

Without using the power of the "King", he killed his emotions and was attracted as he was, and on the second day of walking through the mountains, the march of the commando was greatly disturbed.

It seemed that the enemy had already started to take over his personality. The command unit, which had no land, was blocked by the pursuit unit, and gradually driven east, facing its original destination, the Western Front.

If he headed east as he was, he would reach the Eastern Front. While American and British troops were invading the Western Front, the Eastern Front was pushing the Red Army of the Soviet Union to the point where an all-out attack on Berlin was imminent. For the US commando unit, joining the Soviet Union's Red Army ran the risk of failing in the mission of stealing Adolf K. Weissmann's special confidential information from the Red Army's side, or worse, assassinating all members of the unit.

Looking at the faces of the Commando soldiers, who gradually became impatient and frustrated, he kept thinking vaguely the entire time.

If they could complete their mission and he was handed over to the United States Army, would he tell them about the "Slate" as they asked? Still, if they believe that "Slate" can bring happiness to humanity and he entrusted them with that dream, it was not an impossible option. He was like a salesman, but in any case, this war would soon be over.

On the other hand, what should he do if they joined the Red Army and fell into a life-threatening situation, or if they were captured and executed by a pursuit unit? Apart from the former, the latter was not something to be avoided for him, who was a German military officer. Rather, he would normally consider being rescued and punished by enemy soldiers a pleasure.

(No, Lieutenant. Everyone will be happy.)

The words he said circulated in his head many times.

Without an answer, he wandered through the forest surrounded by soldiers who were being chased and tired, that night they threw him directly to the ground and he fell asleep.

Feeling the cold that permeated his body from the cold ground, he dreamed of a conversation with the lieutenant again in a light sleep. From that day on, he remembered the exchanges many times and rebelled.

"He reigns as the only 'King' and rules over every human being. Condemn the fool. Human equality and prosperity can only be achieved by having the power of ruin beyond human intelligence."

The lieutenant said that in a strict voice.

What is a prayer? What is damnation?

For example, is the enemy who killed his sister and burned the people of the city of Dresden a sinner to condemn?

"Fulfill the "King's" responsibilities."

He denied with his head. He just shook his head weakly. Like a child throwing a tantrum.

"Lieutenant, fear cannot make people happy."

So how could they be happy? He believed that the potential power of the "Slate" would make people happy. What should he do to make everyone happy?

"The answer is... I am sure there is a way to happiness."

Really?

Could he really find something like that? No, did he really want to find the answer in the first place? Can he realize the method of happiness when he search for it and find it?

To himself with such muddy despair.

For himself bound by sadness, anger and fear.

If he really wanted to make everyone happy, what could he do now?

He was surprised when they called him and woke up from his dream.

"Hey, get up."

There was a grumpy voice. Realizing that the soldier had kicked him in the back, he slowly looked around him. The vague head of awakening slowly recognized reality.

"Go to the Captain."

The soldier said coldly and turned his back on him.

He got up off the ground in handcuffs. He went to the commando captain as he was told, looking at the passing soldiers, wearing dirty clothes with damp earth and leaves.

The handcuffs were heavy and would normally hurt his wrist, but his skin wasn't hurt at all. Nobody cared about the body of a prisoner of war, so he wouldn't suspect him.

"You called me, Captain?"

The captain was looking at the map surrounded by his subordinates. He looked at him with a flat face that didn't show his emotions.

"I'm sorry for the circumstances, Dr. The pursuit team is getting very close. Today we will move soon without waiting for the night to pass."

"Is that so."

"Dr., please provide topographic information to supplement this map."

"I'm not familiar with this area, so I won't be very helpful."

When he answered flatly, the NCO next to him showed frustration with the situation and hatred for him, and bit him.

"I can't take it, hey, stand up! Are you a genius and didn't even memorize a map of the country?!"

"Yes, Charlie. What happens when you say you know something you don't know?"

The captain controlled in a calm voice, but the surrounding NCOs tuned in to a man named Charlie and made a barking voice.

A voice that fears parting with the Red Army and contempt are mixed.

Dr. Occult Charlie, who was really delusional and investigating the "mass production of psychic bodies" pointed it out and cursed. The officers agreed and showed frustration.

US military executives may have had some interest in the "Slate", but for those executives tasked with stealing that information, it was a perception where life was at stake.

He was listening to his words in silence. There was pain. The dreams he had were scorned, pushed away and spit on. There was anger and sadness, but it was stronger and filled with a feeling of emptiness to give up.

The captain opened his mouth after hearing the resentment of his subordinate.

"I am also going to avoid joining the Red Army. I was thinking of getting further away from the chase, but they were unexpectedly quick. If we go any further, I would be behind the German front. Before that happens, I will look for terrain that will hide the entire unit. and I will move on to the pursuit unit. I will confront them and clear the way if necessary. Then, we will force the march to the western front. That is the mission."

With a dignified voice, the captain declared so. The NCOs cheered for inspiration from the stated life policy.

It was a thin thread of hope. The entire unit was desperately trying to hold on to the thread. However, he knew that the thread was easy to break, and that if the thread did break, death would be waiting for him, and everyone here, not just him, would hate him.

He was reflecting on their lives. What were his options?

"As a doctor here, it doesn't matter as far as I can see on this map. A ground where we can hide, please check together."

At the captain's words,

"Okay, that's it."

"Hey, how much did you help kill your countrymen?"

Charlie slapped him maliciously. The captain didn't scold him, but he said to Charlie, "We'll get out of here as soon as the scout gets back. Tell the soldiers.", And he hardened his attitude.

He also skipped instructions to drop off other subordinates, and the NCOs began to move accordingly.

In it, another malicious word hit his ear.

"If only my sister had survived, she could have enjoyed various things while she stalked."

The whole body was full of hair.

Instantaneous anger and hatred filled his thoughts with black, and he was taking a step forward.

The step lightly shook the ground with a loud noise.

He didn't know what the step was for. He didn't, but there was an undeniable killing intent in him at the time.

His sister's smile, the flames of hell that surrounded the city of Dresden, and his cold, hardened body shuddered at the same time.

"What? I mean, let's do it."

Charlie shuddered with a scared face.

What the hell was he going to do?

The passion cooled as fast as the moment it arose.

"No."

He coughed silently and stepped back with the power of the "King" that was about to express his emotions.

He couldn't do anything.

After all, he could do nothing and choose nothing.

(You reign as the only "King" and rule all human beings. Condemn fools.)

(Everyone will be happy.)

"Captain, the map."

He turned her back on everything and muttered in a dead voice.

After that, everyone turned around and didn't become obnoxious or talkative.

He made some supplementary corrections to the extent that he could see from the inaccurate map presented and, as he was told, showed where it seemed most suitable for the troop to hide.

Without including any other intentions, he simply derived and submitted the requested response. Deep in the forest that stretched across the mountains, there was a depression on the north side of the ridge that looked like an indentation. It seemed that there would only be one place where this number of people could hide.

Immediately the troops left and marched into the depression. They reached their destination before dark that day.

Here, they caught up with the pursuit unit approaching from behind and changed the direction of the march to target the Western Front. Since it would be a march of considerable strength to the western front, they had begun taking turns resting while preparing for the engagement when the pursuit unit found them.

But no one was willing to go to bed.

Suddenly, the sound of planes cutting through the air echoed off the trees in the forest and was heard eerily bulging, and the trees near him exploded.

It was a bombing.

Everyone in the unit immediately tried to lie down on the ground, but some were delayed a bit. The next bombardment came in rapid succession, crushing the last like clay dolls.

Within that, he was standing alone.

He quickly realized what had happened.

The impending manhunt was a move to bring the Command into that dead end. Germany decided not to recapture it, but to destroy it.

Without a recommendation of surrender, they unilaterally massacred with the arms deck of the tank unit that he had prepared.

A grenade-like thing hit his cheek and burned him. But he didn't even rip it off and he wasn't affected by anything.

He was stunned when the soldiers around him crouched on the ground and had to wait, trembling as they were hit by a projectile that crushed his body.

Explosive smoke, smoke from the dirt and body parts of the soldiers that were ripped apart by the projectiles splattered, blocking their view.

With the roar that even the screams near him couldn't reach, the smoke in front of him suddenly vanished and he could see Charlie crouched down.

He was crying. His eyes met. Until now, he had only faced malicious and hostile faces towards him. But now, they had all fallen off him and were there in a state of helplessness, trembling from the water that flowed from his eyes and nose.

A projectile entered before he thought of anything about it. Charlie's arms and part of his head grasped right next to him.

He was crying too before he knew it. He began to walk aimlessly, leaving it dripping without drying it.

"What should I do with them?"

There was no one around him who held the shape of a person.

"Everyone, then... should they have forgiven and saved them?"

He had that power. There should have been power so that no one could die.

But he didn't do that. No one was saved. That said, he doesn’t fight anyone.

He did nothing, they did not confront each other, they did not step on them, there was only slaughter.

The person who did it had his own dream, but he was dead.

"What did you want to do...?"

It was the lieutenant who protected him as he exited unharmed by the missile storm.

It was the Japanese lieutenant, Daikaku Kokujoji, who was entrusted with a power by the Führer, organized a pursuit unit and acted as a repellent himself.

The lieutenant who saw him said nothing. He knew the situation he was in and what he did or did not do, but he silently welcomed him.

The captain, who was in command of the pursuit, was terribly surprised to see him intact and protected, but the lieutenant cheated. The commando took him away, but he miraculously escaped just before the bombardment.

The lieutenant gave him winter clothes and rice balls made from rice cooked in Iikura. With the handcuffs removed, he received the rice ball from the lieutenant.

By the way, his sister, who was interested in the Japanese food that the lieutenant brought from time to time, served rice balls and pickles. His sister, who started her own research on fermented foods, which was considered the heart of Japanese food, produced a lot of terrible prototypes, but the pickles were good. Those went well with rice.

The lieutenant's rice ball he ate was sadly delicious.

There were various memories of the lieutenant, his older sister, and the three of them.

The meeting of his older sister and the lieutenant, who brought a new breeze to the world of the two.

Investigation of the "Slate" by trial and error of three people.

The Klippe that he carved with the lieutenant for his sister at Christmas. A little party that night.

Successful start-up experiment of the "Slate".

A dream told on the banks of the Elbe river.

"The "King" will open many possibilities and bring prosperity. With great power, he can provoke violence, or, on the contrary, squeeze it in order. However, he can be a force to protect what is important and, above all, he will change this situation. It has the potential to be anything."

On the banks of the Elbe river, he said that to the lieutenant and his sister. After a successful start-up experiment, he was fascinated by the light of possibility. The light looked like sunlight shining on a dark night.

"The dawn of humanity."

He does not cry anymore.

"Lieutenant."

He called out to the lieutenant as he looked at the half-eaten rice ball.

"EX-Alpha, the individual "King" creates an individual by incorporating others into the feedback loop of causality bias. You can share your strength with different strengths. My power as a "King" can be said to be to be immutable, a power that is unaffected by any tangible power, other than blue that has excellent mastery and red that specializes in destructive power expressed in mice. In other words, my individual B will have similar, if not immutable properties. I thought I would do that for my sister that night, but it was too late. My sister was dead. However, it works in the living. I was alive until then..."

He didn't quite understand what he was saying. Maybe the lieutenant wanted me to blame him.

He did nothing until they found him, because of his anger and the emptiness of his nest. He didn't even resist because he was terrified.

The lieutenant, who was silent the entire time, muttered a single word.

"Isn't there an answer, Weissmann... What do you say, the path of happiness?"

He couldn't return any words.

He was involved in aircraft design when he was on the Artillery Board.

He planned to organize it into an air fleet as a flashy new weapon, but when it was completed, the situation had changed so much that he was put to sleep in a bomb shelter without even flying.

The name of the aircraft was "Heaven".

At Tempelhof airport, on the outskirts of Berlin, he was about to leave with the Himmelreich.

The lieutenant who was walking a little behind him, had a stern look the whole time. The lieutenant knew well that what he was trying to do was not express the departure in neat words, it was just an escape.

"Are you sure you can break through allied air defenses?"

The lieutenant asked in a firm voice.

"Yes. Even at that size, it is possible to adjust the composition of matter and adjust it to me. Then it becomes an unbreakable shell that no one can invade. It is easy to get out."

Even his power, that he couldn't do anything, could easily create an escape route for him. Looking away from his own feelings, he asked the lieutenant.

"Is it okay for the lieutenant to be better than me? After finishing the cleaning, you will return to Japan by submarine."

"Yes."

"Are you really taking the 'Slate' to Japan?"

The lieutenant had already begun to deliver the "Slate" to the Japanese army and carry it out. Nobody was still worried about the abandoned "Konig Project" in the worst case, and he was able to handle it with the authority of the lieutenant.

"Oh. I should have said it by now. If you don't, I will."

The lieutenant's voice was unwavering. However, he was distressed by the lieutenant's determination and told him.

"Will you become 'King'? It's not an easy thing."

"I know." Said the lieutenant.

However, the lieutenant said throwing it out wouldn't help.

That's why he would.

At least to achieve the desired miracle.

Hearing the lieutenant's words, he felt like crying over defeat.

Unlike him, who was so desperate that he couldn't move, the lieutenant faced the light. He wondered if he would really realize the scene of the dawn of humanity that he one day dreamed of.

He narrowed his eyes and looked up at the sky. The color of twilight was spreading as the sun had just dropped beyond the horizon. The night would come soon. He would go to the night sky.

Crushed clouds flowed across the twilight sky.

"Everything flows and disappears. This war is over."

"Nothing ends."

"It's over for me."

Still, the words of a friend declaring that it was not the end under any circumstances, it was the only joy in the cold darkness.

"Finally, I ask again..."

"Bye, Lieutenant."

With his back to the lieutenant, he began to walk.

The distance between the two disappeared.

A huge rigid aircraft shaped like a whale. He walks to where his last home would be, traveling without destination.

"You run away..."

He heard a low voice.

An angry and scolding voice hit him on the back because he hadn't abandoned him during that time.

"You're running away, Weissmann!"

++++++++++

He drowned in the torrent of memories.

"Kukuku." A laugh rang out.

"You ran away. You turned your back on everything and chose not to get involved."

That's how it is.

He sent all his dreams to a single friend and he ran away.

"You didn't choose anything. You didn't save anything. You didn't do anything. You were afraid of your bloated dreams and you threw them all away."

Like a prosecutor reading the indictment, his voice pinpointed the crime.

"I won't blame you."

His soft voice stroking him suddenly, tickled his soul.

"Once again, throw everything away. I will pick it up and use it carefully. Anyway, you are empty. You have no intention of using that power for anything, you just have a surplus. Doesn't your heart seem to no longer is there?"

The voice laughed as he caressed the softest and weakest part of his heart.

"Leave it to me. I'll take all difficulties with you. You can also inadvertently close your eyes and dream of a happy high school student who has no responsibility. You don't have the power or the right to reject me, do you?"

He felt as if he were dragging him slowly to the bottom of the swamp. He couldn't resist, and was tempted to think that it would be easier if he slept like he was, as that voice said.

Yes, he had no power or right. He was a mindless creature who could do nothing, did nothing, and just floated alive. Whether his eyes were open or closed, nothing would change. He was caught up in those arrogant thoughts, and the world was going dark.

However, another voice emerged in his consciousness that was obstructed.

"I haven't given up yet."

"Neko is from Shiro and Shiro is from Neko!"

Kuro. Neko.

They kept looking at him the whole time.

He taught him the strength to never give up. She taught him the power of pure affection.

She gave him a name and kept calling him when no one else had.

As long as they were there, he could not abandon them.

He still didn't know how to be happy, but this time, he wouldn't run away doing nothing.

++++++++++

"Tsk."

The "Colorless King", who was repelled from the boy's body, returned to Kukuri's body with a pitiful voice.

"Kukuri!"

"Well, you're putting it off!"

The fighting voice of Kukuri and Kuro, whose body was taken over by the "Colorless King", was heard far from the boy's ears.

The boy was lying on his back on the floor and was looking vaguely at the ceiling. He still couldn't move well because his consciousness and his body were too big. He breathed quietly, so he was doing his best.

Neko, full of tears, was reflected in the boy's vague vision.

"Shiro! Shiro! Hold on!"

Oh, he wanted to tell her that she didn't have to see him that way.

Kuro, who had abandoned the pursuit of the "Colorless King", knelt beside the boy with a worried expression.

"Don't move! You were just attacked..."

He try to tell him that he didn't need any help. The piece of glass that pierced his abdomen finally fell off and his wound had been healed. Even if he forgot everything and became a helpless high school student, his body had unvarying power.

Before Neko and Kuro's words came out, silver power flashed on the boy's body. The power of the "King" that he obtained under a shower of bombs in Germany in 1945. However, after that, he did nothing and stayed alive.

Neko and Kuro stared at the boy who was glowing silver, speechless.

The boy slowly stood up and smiled to reassure the two with anxious expressions.

"Macht nichts, ich bin unverwundbar. (Don't worry, I'm immortal.)"

He then said that he was not hurt, but his facial expressions remained confused.

The boy kept talking to tell who he was. "Endlich habe ich verstanden. (I finally got it.)"

"So you're really the 'Colorless King'?"

The boy shook his head at the confused Kuro, saying that was not the case.

"Mein... (My name...)"

Only then did he realize that he had just spoken in his mother tongue, German, due to the sudden return of his memory. The boy changed the language to Japanese, which has been familiar to him for the past decades, and responds.

"My name is Adolf K. Weissmann. The first king, the 'Silver King'."

[lady-divine-writes]

Good Omens - “An Enchanted Gift” (Rated NC17)

Summary: Anathema gives Aziraphale and Crowley a special gift - a homemade bottle of a holiday drink with some very peculiar side effects. (2299 words)

Notes: Written for the wonderful @theantichristmaszine  :) Warning for sexual content.

Read on AO3.

Crowley’s flat is positively a picture, fit for printing on a Christmas card.

Fire roaring on the hearth.

Garland and tinsel draped over anything that doesn’t move.

Fairy lights brightening the dark corners, wound around the rubber tree and the Chinese Evergreen, weeding through the leaves of the dieffenbachia.

A host of red velvet, gold taffeta, and white satin ribbon hanging from the ceiling till no white marble can be seen.

And at the center of it all, a tree - an honest-to-Satan floor-to-ceiling pine that Crowley had tromped into the forest and tore out of the ground himself with his own two hands. An ax would have been simpler. Heck, he could have snapped the thing back to his flat, trimmed and mounted, ready for decorating. But his method seemed so much more festive considering he’d been bellowing holiday carols the entire time.

He let angel take the lead decorating. Aziraphale had a merry time covering the thing in frosted globes, glass candy canes (since the real ones didn’t last long enough to hang), gingerbread men (only slightly nibbled), reindeer, clove oranges, crocheted white-lace snowflakes, and other ornaments of the like, purchased from artisans all around London.  

Crowley had gone so far as to include a manger scene for the benefit of his angel-in-residence. However, instead of hanging the Archangel Gabriel using the provided hook, he hung him over the birthplace of the Lord by a noose. Aziraphale giggled when he saw it but recommended fixing it - to ward off bad karma or something along those lines. Not wanting to sully his spirits listening to a lecture about tempting fate (which is all Crowley does), Crowley remedied it.

He replaced Gabriel with a vintage Troll doll key chain Pepper accidentally forgot at Aziraphale’s bookshop.

“There! Top notch replacement, if I do say so meself! Looks just like ‘im!” Crowley declared, gesturing to the absurd trinket with its vibrant purple hair.

“And which part, might I ask, looks just like him?” Aziraphale had asked.

“The head! It’s huge!”

Demons aren’t much for celebrating. But this year, with everything Crowley had to be grateful for, he honestly couldn’t help himself. At its root, Christmas is about love.

Family.

Birth.

A chance to shed the skin of past sins and start anew.

This year, Crowley couldn’t see letting Christmas pass unacknowledged.

“You know, I may not be a connoisseur of holiday shindigs,” Crowley says, leaning back on the floor and gazing up at the spectacle that is their cheerfully burdened tree, “but I would say tonight has come pretty close to perfect. Wouldn’t you?” He rolls onto his hip, beaming at Aziraphale seated not too far from him, a loopy grin nudging his mouth up at the corners.

“Indeed.” Aziraphale lifts his bottle of Burgundy, prepared to propose a toast. It comes up off the floor far too quickly, an indicator the thing has been drained dry.

“Looks like we finished that one.” Crowley looks left and right in search of another, but doesn’t see one. “Augh! Don’t tell me we went through them all! I’m sure I had another three at least!”

“Don’t fret, my dear,” Aziraphale says. “I may have just the thing.” He crawls over to the tree on hands and knees and rummages underneath. A second later he crawls back out, accompanied by a rustic-looking green glass bottle and a triumphant little, ‘A-ha!’ “This comes courtesy of dear, sweet Anathema.” He presents the bottle to his demon for approval. “She said she made it with love.”

“Really?” Crowley snorts while Aziraphale uncorks the bottle. “And what ingredient is that then? Wolfsbane? Mandrake root?”

“Honey, I think.” Aziraphale gives the mouth of the bottle a sniff. “Maybe blackberries?”

“The important question is - is it alcohol?”

Aziraphale brings the bottle to his lips and knocks back a gulp, coughing at the finish. “That it is.”

“Give it here then. I’d like to partake of some love, too.” Crowley indulges, tilting his head back and taking a huge swig. He smacks his tongue, then licks his lips, shivering when a wave of heat enters his bloodstream and works its way down his spine. “Wow. That’s tasty.”

“Isn’t it? If being a witch doesn’t work out for her, she should definitely take up a career distilling.”

“Love, you say?” Crowley peers into the bottle, pondering the ingredients as the drink settles onto his taste buds. “Do you think that’s something she orders by the pound, or gathers under the full moon?”

“To be honest, I have no idea---oof!” Aziraphale sways, planting a hand flat on the floor and locking his elbow to keep from toppling over.

“You alright, angel?” Crowley snickers. “Having a bit of trouble holding your drink?” His forehead wrinkles with concern when Aziraphale doesn’t recover right away. “That’s not normally like you---”

Crowley’s teasing cuts off when Aziraphale’s mouth crashes into his - hot, demanding, tasting of mulling spices, apples, sour plum, and brandy. It takes Crowley a moment to realize Aziraphale is kissing him.

Then another for him to start kissing back.

This isn’t just any kiss. It’s the kiss he’s been longing for. The kiss he’d feel on his lips every time Aziraphale looked his way and smiled. It’s the kiss he thought about the century he slept. And even though there have been many kisses between them, Crowley ranks this as the first.

Because it’s the kiss of dreams.

Aziraphale inhales sharply and backs away. “Oh! Oh, I’m sorry, my dear! I don’t know what came over me!”

Crowley looks him over curiously, waiting for an explanation, but Aziraphale doesn’t seem to have one. Aziraphale loves kissing, but he doesn’t go about it this way - doesn’t rush in, doesn’t take what he hasn’t asked for. “Turn about’s fair play, I’d wager.”

“What do you …?”

Without another word, Crowley sneaks a hand behind Aziraphale’s head and kisses him back.

Another kiss follows. Then another. With each one, the room becomes inhospitable - too warm, too stuffy, too difficult to stay in wearing all their blasted clothes! Aziraphale tries to relieve the pressure at his neck, but he can’t seem to manage his buttons, so Crowley helps him undo those. Likewise Crowley’s zipper becomes uncooperative, so Aziraphale tasks himself with unzipping it. Article by article they tear through until the two become too frustrated to care about the inevitable paperwork and snap off the rest.

Crowley kneels behind his angel, completely naked, kissing every spot he can get his lips on. And God, how it tingles! No. How it burns - each touch of his lips to Aziraphale’s flesh sending surges of razor sharp and magma hot straight from Crowley’s mouth to his groin.

And he wants more.

He wants it everywhere.

He wants it scalding his throat, searing his lungs, consuming him from the inside out. Let it dissolve him into ashes that blow away on the wind, let him die in an orgasm of violence and fire and angelic light.

As long as it comes with Aziraphale.

What a way to go.

“I have to have you, angel,” he moans. “Now. Right now.”

“Are you … are you sure? We’ve always said that we wouldn’t allow alcohol to make us amorous.”

“I don’t feel drunk. Do you?”

Aziraphale focuses inward, taking stock of his corporation. “No,” he says, surprised considering the bottles of wine they’d polished off before they started in on Anathema’s gift. “I don’t. Not at all.” Aziraphale locates an empty bottle and concentrates, tries to push the alcohol of the night from his system, but nothing appears. Not a single drop. “Far from it, it would seem.”

“That’s right. We’re not drunk. We’re completely in our right minds.”

“I wouldn’t say …”

“I want this, angel!” Crowley pleads with a sense of urgency. “Don’t you?”

“Yes, I do. More than ever,” Aziraphale admits.

“What do you want me to do?” Crowley whispers, voice husky with a lust he has inspired in others but has never once felt himself. “Tell me.”

“Make love to me?”

“How?”

Aziraphale peeks over his shoulder, grinning at his demon chomping at the bit. “You seem to be in the perfect position. I suggest you start there.”

Aziraphale expects Crowley to mock his snark, but he doesn’t, diving immediately back into the task of kissing across Aziraphale’s shoulders, lingering over the joint where his wings would connect if he let them out. Crowley swirls over it with his tongue, painting overlapping circles, and Aziraphale sees stars. They’ve made love in this position before, and Crowley has kissed every inch of his back, but he’s never spent so much time on this particular area.

The decadence of this sensation should be criminal.

Aziraphale feels Crowley’s hands on his body everywhere at once - massaging his muscles, fondling his cock, scissoring him open. Could Crowley be using magic to pleasure him? That’s not something they’ve ever done before due to the implications of Hell finding out. But seeing as Hell is no longer a concern, that puts every card at their disposal.

And thank God because this they need to do again!

“Aziraphale,” Crowley utters as he enters him, his angel’s name like sugar in his bitter mouth, and fuck!

There it is.

When he enters him completely.

The fire.

Inside his angel.

And Crowley has become its fuel.

“Oh, Crowley …” Aziraphale shifts his weight onto his palms and leans forward, raising his rear in the air. “Oh, yes. Just like that, my dear …”

“Like this, angel?” Crowley pulls back, then thrusts hard - harder than he would normally, sending Aziraphale swiftly to the verge. With Aziraphale’s grunts of ecstasy mirroring the rhythm of Crowley’s hips, Crowley knows that regardless of anything, this he cannot stop.

It would be unforgivable.

“Yes!” Aziraphale whimpers, bracing against the marble floor with knuckles white. “Yes! Crowley, yes!”

“Yes …” Crowley echoes beneath his breath, a lightness settling inside his mind, siphoning his ability to think. He’s done too much thinking already. Now is not the time for thinking. Now is the time for serving. The time for feeling. And what he feels is soft beneath his hands, tight around his cock, a quest for satisfaction, for completion, wrapped in a braided rope of love, love, and more love. So much love it fills his flat from corner to ceiling, leaves its mark on the walls and on the doors.

And on the marble beneath them when Aziraphale, spiraling out of control, comes unannounced on Crowley’s living room floor.

“Oh,” he squeaks with embarrassment though he knows Crowley would say he shouldn’t be. “I apologize, my love, but I seem to have sullied your floor.”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it,” Crowley says, snapping his fingers and cleaning the mess as he shudders through his own orgasm, which had snuck up inside him and granted him release less like an accomplishment and more like a reward for what he had done for his angel.

“Well,” Aziraphale manages even though he’s breathless, which isn’t a bother for him. “That was … interesting.”

“Just interesting?”

Aziraphale blushes. “More than interesting. But I would hate to think that was all because of the drink.”

“I wouldn’t say it was. I think the brew just sort of lowered out inhibitions. Enhanced the experience.”

“Do you think that was meant to happen? I find it difficult to believe that Anathema of all people gave us some sort of love potion as a Christmas present.”

“Not sure. Could be a side-effect of being witch made. Probably affects us more because we’re occult.”

Aziraphale rolls his eyes but doesn’t argue Crowley’s word usage. “Or … what if it’s something worse?”

“Worse?” Crowley arches an eyebrow. “What worse?”

“What if it did what it was meant to, but it was supposed to be a present for her young gentleman?”

“Ugh! Aziraphale! Don’t!” Crowley groans, wrapping his arms around his angel and holding him tight. “You’re going to put me off!”

“Sorry,” Aziraphale chuckles, hugging Crowley’s arms about his waist. Locked in the cozy cocoon of Crowley’s embrace, a thought pricks Aziraphale’s brain.

There is a secret third possibility.

A week or two ago, Aziraphale went to Tracy Shadwell’s place for tea and rum cake. While he was there, he’d confided in both Tracy and Anathema that as much as he loved his sex life with his husband, physical intimacy had become somewhat of a chore. Not because he didn’t love it, which he did, but because Crowley seemed stuck on every love making session between them being more romantic than the last. First came the champagne, then the candlelight (so much candlelight …), massages with complicated names, and, as of late, dramatic musical choices. It’s nice, the care Crowley puts into being his lover, but it also puts a tremendous amount of pressure on Aziraphale to keep up appearances.

Makes the whole ordeal feel like a performance.

Some nights, by the time they get to the good stuff, Aziraphale is ready to hit the hay. Seeing as he despises sleep, that’s awfully telling.

Aziraphale has come to the conclusion that, often times, he’s just … how did the youths say it … down to fuck.

So this drink may have done exactly what it was meant to, and he and Crowley may have rightfully been its intended targets.

But Aziraphale isn’t about to tell Crowley that.

“What should we do now? Should we lock it away or …?”

“Seems to me there’s only one thing we can do …” Crowley looks the bottle over, gauging the level of the liquid still inside. He grins, the firelight flickering in his eyes, making him look more wicked than Aziraphale has seen him in decades.

And he takes a hefty swallow.

[maryb121813]

Not the only one

Chapter 3

The next day, Ellie's standing outside the student counsel room, clad in her RAD uniform, waiting for Diavolo to summon her.

It doesn't even feel like she left, other demon students that knew her before she left, waved at her, others that joined after her departure, gave her hungry glances till someone smacked them, telling them she's off limits or dare the wrath of the demon brothers and Lord Diavolo himself.

She smiled to herself; RAD life has changed a little since she left. There were now four angels and four human exchange students, seven of them live in Purgatory Hall and one human lives in her former home, hopefully not in her room.

While she was lost in her mind, Barbatos stood next to her just watching her before he made her aware of his presence. He cleared his throat, causing her to jump a little.

"Oh my god Barbatos, you scared me." she said placing her hand on her chest above her heart.

"I'm terribly sorry, Ellie, but my lord has requested your presence but you'll stand in the entry way shadow till he announces you as Lucifer's assistant." he eloquently explained.

She gave a quick nod and followed him down the dark hallway. Her heart was racing at the thought of seeing the guys again especially Mammon. She had so many questions and will get him to spill on why he ghosted her.

Barbatos pulled up his hand, indicting her to stop where she was as he continued inside the room. She could hear Lucifer's deep voice resonate through the room as he scolded one of his brothers.

A shuffling of feet echoed down the hallway followed by Lucifer's voice again. "Mammon where the hell are you going? We're not done here!" Then a door slams.

Ellie was disappointed that she wasn't going to see him but she still had the others to see.

A loud clap made her shake the disappointment from her face and stood a little taller as Diavolo started to speak.

"Don't worry about it Lucifer, you can scold him later."

"More like hung him from the ceiling upside down for the millionth time." giggled Asmo.

"Now on to the final piece of business for the day," Diavolo said with some seriousness. "Lucifer, I know you've been bogged down by work and your brother's shenanigans, so I brought on an assistant to help you for a while."

"Lord Diavolo, you didn't need to do that. I'm perfectly capable of handling my work and my brothers." he stubbornly expressed.

"Sir Lucifer, my Lord has graciously acquired you someone to ease your burden till things settled down. Is it really hard to accept help?" said Barbatos.

"I can't trust anyone with my work, Barbatos." Lucifer deflected.

"Great! I got you someone who you can trust." Diavolo merrily stated. "Barbatos, bring them in."

"Yes, my lord."

Suddenly Barbatos is stand in the doorway looking Ellie with a small smile and waved her in. She took a deep breath and walked through the door. Chairs scrapped against the stone floor and before she could react, Asmo and Belphie almost knock her over in tight embraces, followed by Beel and Levi with a stunned Satan not far behind.

Ellie's eyes started to get hot as tears started to form. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly, hoping to keep the tears at bay.

This! This is what I was missing the most. She thought to herself. She may have had family in the human realm but being with these demons felt more like home than her home itself.

It felt like they were hugging her for hours and she was starting to get hot, "Hey guys, all this body heat is making me all hot and sweaty. Can you guys ease up a bit?" she asked while tapping on whichever brother were close to her hands.

The guys reluctantly let her go, each one grumbling that it was long enough.

"Did you just arrive today, Ellie?" asked Satan.

"No, she arrived last night." Asmo cheerfully said.

"WHAT!?!?" shouted Lucifer.

Ellie looked over at Lucifer and Diavolo, who were still sitting in their seats. It seemed like smoke was coming out of Lucifer's ears while he was staring daggers at Diavolo.

"She was brought in last night?" He looked over at his brothers "Who else, in this room, knew she was here besides Asmo?"

Beel and Belphie turned their heads away to look at anything other than Lucifer. Levi's face turned a bright shade of red as he tried to cover his face with his hands and failing miserably. Barbatos held up his hand with a grin.

Ellie could almost see fire burning bright in his eyes as he got angrier. He stood from his seat and when up to Diavolo. He put up his hands like he wanted to strangle the demon lord but he couldn't, so he silently shook his hands and turned away.

He let out a sigh and pinched the bridge with his black gloved hand while closing his eyes, "How did you sneak her in and out, past all of us, at the house?" he asked.

"Oh, I didn't." said Diavolo.

Lucifer's eyes pooped open, "What do you mean? She didn't sleep in her room at the House of Lamentation?"

"No. She slept in one of my rooms in the castle." he smiled.

Everyone can see Lucifer's eye twitch as he grew more annoyed at Divolo's answers. "Then she'll be sleeping at the house tonight." he declared.

"I'm afraid that's not going to happen, Lucifer. She'll be staying with me during her stay. You already have an exchange student staying with you. You guys are more than welcomed to visit her at the castle." Diavolo formally declared.

Lucifer knew he couldn't go against Diavolo's orders. His eye's shifted to his brothers and Ellie, "You are dismissed. Lord Diavolo I would like to discuss matters more in private, if you will."

"No need to tell us twice," said Levi.

Beel lifted Ellie up, princess style, and walked out of the room with the others speed walking behind them. Once they make it outside, to the courtyard, Beel sets her back down on her feet and pulls her into a tight hug. She had to turn her head to the side so as to not be suffocated by Beel’s muscular chest.

“I missed you, Ellie.” he gave her a light squeeze.

Ellie smiled against him and tried to wrap her arms around him, “I missed you too, Beel.”

“Hey, Beel share Ellie. Some of us didn’t get a proper hug from her,” pouted Asmo.

Beel slowly let her go, Asmo then wrapped his arms around her shoulders from behind, once Beel had stepped away from her.

“Oh, Ellie love, how I missed our daily skin care routines and spa days.” He released her and turned her around to examine her face, “Well look at you, your skin is still pristine, next to me of course.” He giggled

That made her laugh, “Well I didn’t want to let you down and go back to doing nothing.”

“That’s my girl! Now we have to plan a spa day. Oh, oh maybe even a day at the salon too!” Asmo went on and on his in own little world of beauty talk.

She felt a light tap on her shoulder, turning her head, she spots Levi standing behind her. He gave her a shy smile as his cheeks started taking on a pink hue.

“I know I shouldn’t expect anything, especially being a shut-in but I was hoping to-”

She cut him off by giving him a hug. She felt his body shiver as pure bliss flooded his system. “I missed you too, Levi.”

He didn’t get the chance to hug her back as she was pulled away from him and now stood face to face with Belphie. His sleep laden eyes showed love and affection for her. He quickly pulled her into a tight hug, “Now we’re complete again, Ellie.”

Her heart squeezed at his words. She did feel complete again and it took her going back to the human realm to realize it.

“Oi, I still need an explanation on how you guys knew she was coming and I didn’t.” growled Satan.

Belphie let her go, reluctantly. She turned her attention to Satan and gave him her best smile.

“I was going to tell you and these guys didn’t know until last night when I was given word that I was returning. But Barbatos had other plans and decided that we all needed to be surprised on my arrival.”

Her clarification must’ve made him feel better because he rushed to her and wrapped his arms around her. “I thought you left me out of everything.” he whispered.

She closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around him, “Never. I’ll always tell you everything.”

He let out a sigh of relief and gave her another squeeze.

“C’mon guys, Hell’s Kitchen’s having a special on hellfire magma cobra steak with Vjedogonia Bile Soup.” said a hungry Beel.

Ellie almost wanted to laugh but this was normal again. “Okay Beel, as long as we can stop at Madam Scream’s. I’ve been craving Hell Cream Cat Tongue Cookies.”

“Deal!”

“I’ll get them for you since you don’t have any Devildom currency on you, right?” asked Satan.

Ellie did a facepalm since she forgot that when she left, she gave her money to Lucifer since she had no use for it in the human realm, “Thank you Satan, I would appreciate that.”

Asmo chimed in, “I want to buy Ellie something too! Let’s stop at Majolish so I can pick out an outfit for her.”

As they walked through town, each one of the boys said they wanted to get her something, but all she wanted right now, was to see the demon of greed.

Just as she was thinking of him, he walked out of Majolish, his one hand heavy with shopping bags. Her heart leapt in her chest and she started to run to him when a very feminine man walked out of the same store and grabbed his hand and planted a kiss on his lips.

To be continued.

[elexica]

Second Chance Christmas {{ December 26 }}  - Last Chapter -

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27832405/chapters/69446895

"I can promise that I am not giving up on us.”

Full chapter under the read more!

Joey had awoken either alone or to the sounds of needy children almost every morning for the last three years.  At first, waking up without Seto there was a relief—he didn’t have to deal with him or any of the intensity that came with Seto Kaiba.

Eventually, he did miss him in that bleary moment.  It was frustrating that the first few minutes of his morning, every morning, were dedicated to a feeling of loss.

Even that had faded away. For a while now, waking up in his own bed didn’t inspire any thoughts of Seto.  Joey had returned to a state where his mornings were not tarnished by Kaiba’s absence.

But his taste of Christmas with the man—the kind one who had so graciously been a part of his family, not the cold one, who left into the snow without a second thought—was enough to leave Joey tormented.

Waking up alone had never seemed as empty than the morning of that day after Christmas.  He opened his phone screen, tapped the world clock app, and saw that it was already late in the evening in Domino.  Kaiba had no doubt already landed and returned to his life, as if nothing had happened.

The entire good experience melted right off of Kaiba.  Back to his old life, his old ways.  Unchanged, unaffected.

It felt like there was broken glass inside Joey's chest.  It was almost nauseating to feel so disconnected after everything that had happened.

But something had happened. Something had changed, Joey was sure of it.  And things could be different.  

He had gone to sleep so troubled with these conflicting thoughts, but sitting in his quiet bed, watching the snow sprinkle down, he had a new sense of clarity.

When he closed his eyes, he could see their future stretch in front of him, days and weeks and years sprawling across the room.

Joey would never get rid of all of those things that Kaiba had left behind.  He was a sentimental bastard, and at least he knew who he was.  Joey’s eyes hit the wedding photo lingering in his room.  If Joey couldn’t even toss out the extra turtlenecks after three years, Joey was not optimistic he’d ever fully clean out the house and wipe all the traces of Kaiba from the home.

And goddamn it, he knew Kaiba too.

That man wasn’t going to move on either.

So, Joey supposed, they might just keep doing this.  Every time they exchanged the kids, would Kaiba tag along for some ill-advised tryst?  Like an addiction, circling back for another self-destructive hit, knowing nothing could really change.

Or would he avoid Joey like the plague, and instead every few years fall into some act of God that would leave them to another excruciatingly loving experience.

How many times would his life be uprooted by falling back in love with that asshole?  How many longing touches would they scatter across decades?  

Playing enemies while secretly pining for each other?  Damn it, hadn’t they already gotten that out of their system?

Joey was so fucking sick of missing him.

Kaiba was too stubborn, and maybe too hurt, to make the move.  Joey hated the emotional responsibility that fell on his shoulders.

But, Joey wondered, had he actually laid it all on the line?  He never once asked Kaiba not to return to Japan.  He blocked the door, but he didn’t actually say it.  He showed up at the airport, but he didn’t actually say it.

His ex-husband had the emotional intelligence of a brick on a good day.  Joey wasn’t just as bad as Kaiba for not just saying it.  But Joey sat in bed, the cold covers pooling around him, and considered that he could be part of the problem.

And maybe, if he wanted them to be back together, he had to do it.  If he didn’t want to live this way forever—he was in a position to change it.  He wasn’t corporation stock, he wasn’t an asset, something without any control over what Kaiba did.

So Joey got up.  He made himself some coffee.  It was seven in the morning, but he was sitting at the kitchen counter, dated laptop jammed open, on the speakerphone with Serenity before the hour was over.

Everyone always admired Kaiba’s force of will.  A personality that could overcome every adversity, defy reality itself, control space and time.  Master the global marketplace, dominate the NASDAQ, and change the fabric of society.

But Joey’s force of will was something else too.  And he wasn’t going to wait for however many years it took for Kaiba to admit that he wanted to stay there, in their home, raising their children together.

If he had to, he’d drag the bastard straight from Japan.  His dumb husband was just waiting there, getting old and sad in some fancy condo.

And so he spent the entire plane ride to Domino city trying to figure out exactly what it was that he wanted to say to set his stupid, stupid man straight.

. . .

“Mokuba?” Joey hoped it was still the right phone number.  The Kaiba brothers were always updating things, changing software, making their communication methods that much trickier to obtain.  It was a real possibility that this phone number now only went to a stranger.

“Jounouchi!  What’s up?  How are you doing?  The kids are growing up so freakin’ cute!”

Joey was disarmed by how warm Mokuba always was.  And it laid bare just how little he’d really thought through the plan.  “Um, well, I’m in Domino.  I’m here to see…” Joey almost said Kaiba. But it was off-putting to refer to their shared last name.  It never bothered him as a teen, but as an adult it sometimes hit Joey that Mokuba probably didn’t love the traces of language that made it clear that he was the secondary Kaiba when it came to these affairs.  Still, Joey wasn’t sure he was allowed to call him Seto anymore.

“Ah, I see.  Nii-sama just got back yesterday.  Seto didn’t tell me any of the details, but…” Mokuba’s tone shifted.  “Everything okay?”

The question was stingingly sincere.

Joey sighed on the other end of the line.  “Yeah, you know your brother.  I mean.  Look.  I’m in Domino and I guess I just need to see him.  It’s dumb—”

“It’s not dumb,” Mokuba interrupted, sounding more adult than Joey had ever heard.  It was like he really was getting an edict from the esteemed Vice President of Kaiba Corporation.

“Yeah.  Can you get me a badge or whatever to visit his office.  We need to talk and…”

“I see.  He can’t be allowed to dodge it, huh?”

Joey laughed, despite himself.  It was a bit mournful, but it wasn’t totally devoid of life.  “Nope.”

“Yeah, I can hook you up.  I’ll get the pass sent to your phone.”

Joey nodded, even though his phone was conventional, and Mokuba couldn’t see him.  “Thanks.  And congrats on getting married.  From what I’ve heard, she sounds like a keeper.”

Joey could hear the glowing smile on the other end of the phone.  “Yeah, I think so too.”

. . .

The lobby of Kaiba Corp. HQ was mostly unchanged since the last time Joey had seen it, though it looked somewhat creepy in the dark.   It was lightly, tastefully, decorated for the season.  Twinkle lights on some of the pillars, echoing in the dark like suspended lightening bugs.

So close to his goal, Joey stalled.  He paced in the empty cavern of the lobby.  Maybe he shouldn’t bother.  Maybe this whole adventure was some twisted flight of fancy, brought on by watching one holiday film too many.  Did he look too closely at the snowflakes trapped in Kaiba’s eyelashes and see something that wasn’t really there?

In the middle of his troubled, nervous walking, Isono appeared.  Put together and just like Joey had seen him when last trading off the kids.  Sunglasses on—even though it was the dead of night in the deepest part of winter.  Stern and silent, Isono directed him to the elevator.

Isono never had much of a relationship with Joey.  The man had watched him at most major life events outside of his house for the fifteen years preceding the divorce.  Joey realized that his presence was somewhat more comfortable than all of the anonymous faces Joey had passed by in the once-familiar city.

The floor indicator increased quickly as the two men rocketed toward the top floor, where Kaiba could properly brood over the entirety of Domino.

In the stilted silence, they arrived at the top floor, and Isono put his arm out to stop the elevator doors.

“It is good you are here,” Isono said.  Something about his voice sounded reflective, and it gave Joey the confidence he wished he did not need.

The city glowed in the background, pulsing like magma.  Kaiba sat at his broad desk, illuminated by the blue light laptop in front of him and the ethereal glow of the city at his back.   Joey was pissed that when he walked in, Kaiba didn’t bat an eye.  It felt as if Kaiba had set the appointment.

Joey wondered to himself whether Mokuba had messaged him, or inadvertently triggered some alarm in procuring the pass.  Even so, Kaiba was where he was supposed to be, sitting in his dark office, typing away at whatever it was he did all day.

Since the grand entrance did not have the desired effect, Joey proceeded to stomp over to Kaiba’s desk, push down the screen of the laptop, and kiss him.

This succeeded in starling Kaiba, his blue eyes wide in surprise.  Almost too shocked to kiss back.  Almost.  Kaiba still reached a hand across, thumb skimming over Joey’s cheek.

“Y’know why I did that?” Joey asked, breaking the kiss.

Kaiba shook his head, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.  “No, I—what are you doing here?”

Joey propped himself up on Kaiba’s desk, sweatpants-clad butt shifting a stack of papers.

“I kissed you because I wanted to.  And I’m here because I want to be.  And I didn’t buy a return ticket, Kaiba.  Because I want to fly back with you.”

Kaiba opened his mouth to speak, but Joey silenced him with a hand.

“I’m gonna make it really simple for you, cause apparently this is hard for you.” Joey announced.  “Here’s the situation: I broke up with you because you refused to be part of the family in the way that I needed.  You were acting like a bad partner, and I did not deserve that.  But…  You… you proved that you could be a good partner.  So here’s the deal.”

Joey walked forward, completely enveloped by Kaiba’s heated stare.  “I want you.  I want you to be at the house.  I want to raise our kids together.  I want to go to sleep in the same bed with you, I want to wake up in your arms, I want a lot of other things.”

Kaiba wisely kept his mouth shut, opting to watch Joey with soft, sad eyes.  Joey wasn’t going to let it get to him.

“And I think you want that too.  You were happy this week.  A lot.  And this is sappy but I’m gonna lay it out.”

Kaiba gestured with one hand that Joey should continue.  The darkness didn’t leave much for Joey to see, but the way that the glare of the city glinted off of his eyes… it looked a little like water was pooling.  Joey took that to mean that his evaluation was correct, enough—Kaiba did love to correct people.

“I don’t know how many special moments, or special people we get.  And I don’t know how many days I’ll get to look over and see you.  And what a mess you are and how strangely you hide that and… and you know what?!”

Kaiba opened his lips a little, but didn’t have anything to say.  So Joey dismounted from the desk and continued.

“I came here, cause I’m done wasting my time.  You talk so much about your precious time, how busy you are.  But my time is mine, and I’m sick of watching the kids grow up without you. I’m sick of not seeing the magic parts of you, and the genius and the… we fit together, damn it!  We’re both fucked up, we’ve got no idea how to do any of this.  But I want to figure it out with you.”

Joey realized he hadn’t been breathing as he let it out.  He took a breather, trying to collect his thoughts, wiping at his own face.

“So. Yeah.  I have a proposal for you.  Fly with me back to New York.  Let’s try again.  Like, really try.  You actually be part of this—like my partner.  We’re too old for the on-again off-again bullshit.  I don’t want to have to get over you.  And honestly, I’m worried you’ll never get over me.”  Joey shrugged, “You’re not really the moving on kinda guy.”

Finally, Kaiba stood up behind the desk.  His shadow was so imposing, a terrifying mixture of height and darkness.  “So what?  You want me to be on vacation forever?”

Joey hadn’t anticipated that much vitriol in his voice.  He had been pretty proud of his speech.

“No.  But... you are just as free as you want to be.”

Joey wanted to run, felt the fight or flight instinct lighting up in his gut.  But he was finally done retreating.  Joey walked towards the silhouette.

“I’m going to ask you—just once more—do you want to do this?  Not my way, and definitely not your way.  But some new way that we can find together.”

“I am not a man of compromises, Jounouchi.”  Kaiba turned away.

“When you want something, really want something, nothing can stop you.  That’s what I’m counting on.”  

“When have you known me to do anything by halves, Jounouchi?”

“The last year of our marriage.” The answer had been given almost instantaneously, but it hung in the air for a full minute.  “But you’re right, I don’t think that’s really who you are.  So, come back to New York.  And prove it to me.”

Joey took one more step forward.  He could feel Kaiba’s tense breath, they were so close.  “You can be emotionally constipated on your own time.  I’ll go first: I’m sorry for not being more honest and just telling you what was going on.  Now it’s your turn to apologize.”

“What do you want me to apologize for?”  Kaiba demanded.

“You’re the genius.  Whatever you think will be enough to convince me to let you come back to the house so that we can live our lives together.  The way we were meant to.”

“I don’t—”  Kaiba started.

“Do not call my bluff, Kaiba.  You really don’t feel sorry about any of this?”  Joey waved his arms, gesturing at everything.

“… I…” Kaiba looked out at the vast city below, glowing electric with holograms and New Year’s decorations.

“You don’t have to say it.  The best apology is shaping up.  And I know you get it.  I’ve seen you get it.  So please.  Just… was it that bad?  Just being my husband for a few days?”

“No.”  Kaiba refocused, look drilling into Joey.  “I regret allowing you to labor under the assumption that our relationship was not important to me.  That you were not the brightest light in my life.”

Finally, achingly slow and gentle, Kaiba tilted his head down and pressed a kiss to Joey’s forehead.

“I cannot promise that it will never happen again.  But I can promise that I am not giving up on us.”

Fin.

[ckret2]

But Tomorrow, the World Will End

Anonymous said: Ghidorah heads arguing over a rodan. 1 is infatuated, 1 is considering, 1 is hell no

Did you want some angst because man I got some angst for you. We’re talking emotional constipation, we’re talking one-sided affection, we’re talking brutal self-denial, we’re talking some kind of serious attachment issues, we’re talking complete inexperience in emotionally processing your basic garden-variety crush, we’re talking a painfully repressed libido due to being built out of a species that can bang but not having been given the necessary equipment to do so—

Meanwhile Rodan is 100% oblivious. And uncomfortably damp.

Rough sequel to the fic I posted earlier tonight but all you really need to know from it is “Ghiddy thinks Rod is cute suddenly.” Again unedited because I finished this about three minutes ago and want to get it up, making this the third finished Ghidorah fic of today, hold your applause. And almost three months later, now edited!

I’m still accepting Ghidorah-centric fic prompts! The writing pace won’t be as frenetic now that I’ve worked a bit of Ghidorah out of my system but I hope to still get some more out. EDIT: I ain’t taking fresh prompts right now, but if you’ve got an idea you’d really like written, I do take $3 drabble requests on kofi.

###

They were used to seeing their faces through their other faces' eyes. In fact, they had a harder time coordinating when they couldn't see their own faces—when it was storming too hard, when they were blinded, when they had to maintain a 360° field of view, when one of their heads was missing and yet to regrow. Seeing their own faces in their peripheral visions was second-nature, normal, trivial, so common as to be unnoticeable.

But it was impossible for them to not be uncomfortably aware of how hard they were glaring at the right side of First's face.

Second should be watching for assailants on their right wing.

Second was not.

Second should be watching for assailants on their right wing.

Second was not.

Second SHOULD BE—

Well maybe Second didn't need to be when First kept curling up to look back over their right wing himself! First was watching for assailants, right? Or was First checking to ensure that their new little pet was still following them?

An embarrassed heat crept down their spines and up their necks. It was a rare thing for them to feel—even rarer for it to come from the middle. Third shook his head like he could throw off the prickling self-consciousness; Second hissed; First turned to snap at Second's horns. None of them missed how, when First bit at Second, he snuck a quick glimpse back at their "little pet."

Still there.

Their "little pet" was the red sprite, the native creature who roosted in volcanoes and whose body looked like a distant alien echo of their own. The creature who had challenged them to a fight, who had survived their lightning, who had resisted the hypnotism of their siren song only to bow at their feet of his own free will. Some knot had twisted in their body when he'd bowed to them, and it had only gotten tighter as time went on.

But the knot was only choking one of their throats: the one in the middle.

The clouds wheeled and flexed around them as they flew northward. Deep blue skies and the first evening stars shone over their heads one moment; rain poured on their back the next, chill on their scales. They could hear the red sprite grumbling in displeasure every time the rain battered his volcanic rock back; each time he flapped harder to draw closer to them, and each time they shivered from his heat and fought not to twist their tails together. They wanted to twist their tails around him.

No—there was no "they." First wanted him. First was gasping with want for him—a want that their body wasn't designed to ever fulfill—a want that he had snipped at the other heads for every time they felt it, until Second had learned to burn it away and Third had learned to suffocate it. Well, why couldn't First? High and mighty hissing arbiter of emotional asceticism, the one who reminded them over and over that any place they ever landed was only temporary, to be burnt down to ash and left behind as they left for a new star and a new atmosphere—First the commander, First the leader, First who watched them both and chastised every mistake, First who punished Third for so much as wondering what a burnt beast tasted like for fear they'd grow addicted to the flavor and suffer when it was gone—for all his work to ensure that they would not even long for alien ashes, surely he would not long for an alien person! Where was his self control?!

He didn't know!

Second had snapped at First's neck before either one of them realized that it wasn't First, this time, who'd turned to look back at their red sprite; Third was twisted around to peer at him. Curious, of course. Always curious. First almost automatically bit at him for, yet again, getting too intrigued by the local environment; but their back tensed up with Second's rage and he snapped his mouth shut. Hypocrisy.

He knew it was hypocrisy. He knew, he knew, he knew. And he was as horrified with himself for his weakness as Second was disgusted with him. The horror churned low in their abdomen, tying knots in their nerves. First was responsible for getting them through this. All of this. All this terrible ashen life that they had to live. He had to be the strongest of them all.

But they were still looking at the red sprite and he couldn't help himself, damn it, he looked so familiar, like someone he should have had ages and ages ago if they'd been three like they were supposed to be instead of one like they were, if they had been made for more than thunder and ashes, and he wanted to twist him up in their tails and close their wings around him and feel his heat with their faces, and, and—and he didn't know what then! There was nothing they physically could do beyond that! But he wanted it all the same, wanted him, wanted him, wanted to crack the shining black rock on his hide and drink the magma from his heart and tear him up with their teeth, piece by piece, and to swear fealty to him and to tell the world that he owned them—

Second slammed into First hard enough to knock them both into Third. They flailed, plummeting down for a couple of seconds before they got their wings under them again. First and Third looked straight forward. Second howled at the side of First's face.

The red sprite cried out, swooping closer—was he concerned? They couldn't even understand him. Think about that. They'd learned enough of the local creatures' emotions to give basic mental commands—one mental command, to tell them to fear and fight—but they couldn't even understand him. He had mattered for less than a day.

They picked at the knot tied in First's throat as they flew. Something had usurped their siren song, up north; they could hear it bellowing over and over. They were supposed to be focusing on that. First's gaze stayed fixed straight ahead, but they were hyperaware of every beat of the red sprite's wings.

Third didn't see what the big deal was. No. He never had. Never! Every world was temporary and ephemeral, so what was so dangerous about looking at them? How was it going to kill them if they dared turn their gazes toward something without immediately burning it down? What future pleasure were they saving themselves for that they would only receive if they eschewed the petty pleasures of strange scents and the way the light of unfamiliar suns played on oceans? What did it matter if they enjoyed it? Let them enjoy something! Something besides conquest and killing, because they couldn't kill all the time, and they had to have something to stave off the boredom in between massacres! Yes, today they would have the funny-tasting charred ashes of a beast, and tomorrow the world would end and they would not; but tomorrow they would have a new world with new funny-tasting beasts, and what was so wrong with that?! They wouldn’t have to fear the possibility of always longing for past pleasures if they knew there would be future ones. It would mean they would have something to look forward to besides getting a horn bite for daring to look around a little. So, here was a chance to try that out, to see that it wasn't so dangerous for something to matter to them for a few seconds. First could have his red sprite if he wanted, they could coil around him until they crushed him if First wanted, and then the world would end and they would toss aside his remains and move on—

The knot twisted so tight it felt like it was going to snap their spines. Third's thought cut off as, for a moment, despair and grief howled futilely through their minds at the thought of a universe where their red sprite was gone.

First shook his head, trying to clear the thought away.

Second coiled around him, twisting their necks together, and bit him at the very top of his neck, grounding him.

Third looked straight ahead, staring through the rain.

This. This was why it was so dangerous to be fascinated. They had so little. They'd had so little for so long. If they allowed themselves one thing, and lost it, then they lost everything they had.

And the red sprite wasn’t funny-tasting ashes. They couldn't just find a replacement tomorrow. They'd never seen something so like them before. They might never again.

They flew on.

Their necks untwisted.

Rodan was grumbling more constantly now as the rain poured down on him. First raised his head, snapped at Second when Second snapped at him, and twisted back to look directly at the red sprite. They called to him to catch his attention, and when he was focused on them, jerked First's head up toward the sky beyond the patchy cloud cover. They had to do it again before the red sprite understood the gesture, and then he shot up with a gush of air, pumping his wings hard to climb above the clouds.

He'd be more comfortable up there. And far beyond their seeing and hearing. They, the lightning in the storm clouds; and he, the red sprite dancing above it.

They would deal with this. They would. First had always demanded that Second and Third be as strong, as stoic, as detached as him; and even when it chafed, they had always shown that they could be that strong. And so, too, would First be as strong as them. They would destroy this new little pest disrupting their siren song, and then this world; and then, they would deal with... this. Somehow, they would deal with this.

It would hurt; but things had hurt before, and they had dealt with them.

How would they deal with this? They'd figure that out later.

The red sprite had mattered for less than a day. Yes, today they had him—and tomorrow the world would end and they would not.

And they would move on to the next world.

And the next world.

And the next.

###

(Replies/reblogs are welcome! Check the “source” link below for my masterlist of Ghidorah-centric and Rodorah fics, as well as my AO3 and Ko-fi links.)

[renywrites]

Sick Day

I’m back! For now. Enjoy the latest installment in my a/b/o universe. ***

Being pregnant was definitely an ordeal. Keith was constantly sick, constantly tired and constantly annoyed. He got ridiculous heartburn, weird cravings, a bout of puking every day at exactly 3am on the dot and eventually a bump that made it impossible to bend past his waist. The omega was absolutely in love with all of it.

Well, okay, he could do without the being sick and tired, but you get the idea. His absolute favorite part of this was Lance’s reaction. His already loving alpha had become so gentle and doting in the past six months.

When Keith’s legs and feet hurt, he sat on the couch with his mate and rubbed the soreness from his limbs. When Keith was sick early in the morning, he made a cup of ginger and lemon tea and helped Keith clean up. When the omega was incredibly horny for the concoction of hormones his body was now full of, Lance took him to bed and took care of his every need.

However, being pregnant also meant that his immune system was absolute shit. Despite their best efforts, the omega had caught a cold, and today was the worst he had felt all week. Keith was laying in their bed, curled up on his side, his face buried in the pillows. Lance had taken the day off of work to care for his sick omega.

The alpha had been pacing the house all morning. The doctor had said that as long as Keith wasn’t in distress and his fever didn’t pass over 101 degrees, everything would be alright. So far, his fever had been low grade. The baby was more restless than usual, considering it’s mother’s lack of movement, which was making it harder and harder to be comfortable. Even though Keith’s lovely mate had made him the best nest he’d ever been in.

“Lance.” Keith mumbles when his alpha passes the bedroom door for the third time in the past ten minutes, pretending to fiddle with the thermostat.

Lance jumps, peeking in, his expression sheepish. “Yes?”

“Come lay with me.” He requests with a yawn.

Previously, he hadn’t let Lance in, too uncomfortable in his own sore body to even think of adding another person. Two in one was enough, thank you. Now, however…

The alpha brightens, hurrying in and pausing at the edge of the bed, hesitating before clambering over the soft walls of the nest. Keith watches him lazily, his gaze like magma. If magma could be purple. His scent was inviting and soft, despite the bitter tang of sickness.

Lance settles down against his back, tucking his omega close and nosing into the scent glands over the back of his neck. His plan was to layer his mate in enough of his own scent to try and rid him of his sickness and help him relax. Judging by the soft, content hum Keith gave him, it was working.

“How’re you feeling, sweetheart?” Lance croons once he was satisfied.

“Baby won’t stop kicking.” Keith grunts. “Little alien wants me to move.”

The alpha chuckles, reaching down and smoothing his hand over the gentle curve of Keith’s belly. Perfect, Lance thinks, he’s so perfect. “I think our little alien can deal for now.” He hums, pressing a lingering kiss to Keith’s neck.

With an amused huff the omega rolls over onto his back, looking up at Lance. “You tell them that,” he grunts. “They listen to you.”

Lance winks, glancing down to where his hand is. He slips it underneath the shirt Keith was wearing - Lance’s shirt, he notices with a small thrill of excitement and pride - to brush his hand over his bare skin. He feels a small push and a flutter. It was almost like Keith was housing a baby bat, not a baby human.

After a few moment the baby stills. Keith glances down at his belly, surprised, then lets out an annoyed whine. “Why do they listen to you?”

“I’m the favorite.” Lance teases smugly, kissing his mate’s nose.

“But I’m the incubator!” Keith moans, dropping his head back down with a thick sniffle. He rubs his nose, shaking his head.

Lance smiles fondly, lifting his hand from his belly to run his fingers through ebony locks. “Does your head still hurt?”

The omega nods, closing his eyes and tipping his head into Lance’s hand. “Yeah,” he mumbles, his voice slightly scratchy. “And my body feels like I was run over by a truck.”

“I wish I could make you feel better,” Lance murmurs, pressing a kiss to his fever flushed cheek. “I would be more than happy to be sick in your place.”

“No,” Keith says as sternly as he could muster. He opens one eye, fixing it on the alpha. “You are the biggest baby when you’re sick.”

“I am not!” Lance whines, sticking out his lower lip in a pout.

“Are so,” Keith argues. “You whine and sniffle and paw at me until I lay in bed with you all week. Which is not productive. This house doesn’t clean itself.”

“I’m laying in bed with you,” Lance says, mildly offended.

“Yes, because I let you.” Keith stifles a yawn. “And because you decided to stay home from work.”

“That’s because you were coughing so hard you were throwing up,” Lance huffs defensively. “I just wanted to make sure you were going to be okay.”

Keith looks up at him, his gaze soft. “You silly alpha,” he sighs, reaching up and brushing his fingers over his soft cheek. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Love me.” Lance suggests. He pauses, then grins. “After all, there are going to be two of me running around soon enough.”

Keith’s eyes widen after he gets the idea, glancing down at his belly and back up at Lance. He blinks, then groans and throws an arm over his eyes. “Oh no.”

“Oh yes.” Lance grins, shifting down. He blows raspberries over Keith’s belly, eliciting a squeal and a bout of giggles. “Isn’t that right, little alien?” He coos. “We’re gonna give your mama a run for his money.”

“I’m gonna be dead before I’m thirty,” Keith moans. Lance laughs, pressing kisses up his belly and shifting over him. The omega looks up at him, flushed and smiling. The alpha growls playfully, earning a pleased coo from his mate. He chuckles, leaning down and kissing him.

“I’m all gross,” the omega mumbles against his lips, but Lance only rumbles and cups his jaw, kissing him just a bit harder. He melts into it, closing his eyes and relaxing completely into the sheets.

“Don’t blame me if you get sick,” Keith gasps breathlessly when they part, his chest heaving.

“I’d risk getting sick to kiss you.” The alpha grins, brushing his hair from his face.

“You sap.” The omega hums, pulling him down to the side. “Come lay with me, I want to nap.”

Lance chuckles, tucking Keith and their unborn child against him. “Go to sleep, baby. I’ll be right here.”

Keith drifts off to sleep, his cheek squished against Lance’s shoulder and his leg thrown over his hips. With a beautiful mate six months pregnant, curled up against him safe and sound - wow. The alpha decides he was the luckiest person in the world.

***

My girlfriend: I thought he said “come here I want to rap”

Me:

Me: Don’t you know that’s how Keith seduces him?

[themurphyzone]

Absolutely Disastrous Ch 8

Ch 8: Lost in the Woods! Another Costumed Weirdo?

“I think we’re lost.”

“We’re not lost. We’ve taken a slight detour from the recommended path.”

“So we’re lost.”

“Think of it as the scenic route,” Milo suggested, looking at his map again. Before he could show Melissa and Zack their current location in the Petalburg Woods, a Linoone snatched the paper out of his hands and disappeared into a clump of berry bushes.

Unfazed, Milo brought out a second map. “Okay, so we’re near a bunch of Oran trees right now, so if we head north we should see some birches and hang the second right.”

Zack groaned, resting his back against a mossy rock. “Too bad everything looks the same.”

“I also have a topography map, a latitude map, and a map of Silph Co’s ventilation and teleporter system,” Milo said. “Never really understood their teleporter thing. Seems kinda bad for employee morale.”

They’d been wandering around Petalburg Woods all morning, and so far they’d had little luck making sense of their surroundings. Every tree looked the same, packed together so densely that it was almost impossible to tell where one tree ended and another began. He’d heard ghost stories of a forest in Sinnoh. According to the tales, it was always nighttime because the sun’s rays never reached the ground, making it a prime spot for ghosts to lure unsuspecting travelers to their dilapidated manor.

Dr. Magnezone fans loved using Sinnoh’s folklore and ghost stories as inspiration. Milo once saw Sara cry over a fanfic where Dr. Magnezone had to search for a Lunar Wing to relieve Time Infernape of a Darkrai-inflicted nightmare before the stress killed him.

“Hey, let’s break for a bit,” Melissa said. She laid down on a large protruding root. “I can’t wait to get out of forest territory.”

Milo found a cozy spot next to a fallen log, and Zack reclined against a tree trunk.

“Zack, there’s gotta be some spooky tales in Johto,” Milo said. “You should tell us one!”

“Yeah, spill!” Melissa prodded Zack in the arm.

Zack winced and rubbed his arm. “Do you cut your nails into claws or something?”

Melissa shrugged. “I jab hard, Underwood. You gonna tell us a ghost story or what?”

“Neither of you are gonna let up until I tell you one, huh?” Zack sighed.

“Nope!” Milo and Melissa chorused. Diogee looked up from his water bowl, red eyes boring expectantly into Zack.

“Fine,” Zack said. “This one isn’t for the faint of heart, so be warned.”

Milo and Melissa leaned forward in anticipation.

“Two millennia ago, a beautiful maiden fell in love with a soldier. One day, the soldier had to go fight in a distant land. As the maiden watched him disappear over the horizon, she swore she would never fall in love with anyone else, and that she would always look towards the ocean in anticipation of his return.”

Milo’s eyes started to water. Melissa gripped her skirt tightly.

“The years passed, but she still waited. Every suitor was turned down, all attempts to coax her away from the cliff failed. Eventually, a deity took pity on her. She agreed to be transformed into a statue atop the cliff so she could continue watching the horizon. The deity also appointed a messenger Pokémon to maintain the house and keep the maiden’s soul company while she kept her eternal vigil. To this day, she continues to wait and pray.”

Milo wiped away a stray tear, and Diogee had to carefully nudge him a few feet so a tree didn’t crash on top of him.

“That was…sad,” Melissa admitted. “How ‘bout something in the horror department to even it out?”

“Gimme a minute,” Milo said, burying his face into Diogee’s fur to calm himself down. “I got one.”

He took a deep breath, holding a flashlight under his chin for added dramatic effect. Zack drew a sharp breath.

“Once there was a little girl who lived in a cottage. Her mommy and daddy scrounged and begged and pleaded for scraps of food, for they were poorer than dirt,” Milo began, keeping his voice so low that Melissa and Zack had to strain to hear him.

He paced as he continued the story, feeling three sets of innocent eyes processing every word and movement. Milo smirked and continued. “One day, the little girl was left alone in the house. As she did her daily chores like any good child would do, she looked out the window. A doll laid in the dirt, its seams torn and one of its button eyes missing. It was ugly and nobody would’ve spared a second glance. But the little girl took pity on the doll and fixed it up with the only bolt of spare fabric her family had.”

“Oh no,” Zack whispered. Melissa elbowed him.

“When the last seam was closed, the doll offered to grant three wishes for the little girl. First, she wished that her family would never go hungry again. That night, her parents came home to find a feast fit for a royal banquet waiting for them. The little girl showed them the doll and explained what she’d done, and her parents were too grateful to question her any further. But trouble arose when the mother didn’t have material to make new clothes with, so the little girl asked the doll for endless wealth so her mother could purchase the finest and rarest silks and wool. The doll granted the second wish, and the family lived happily for many years.”

“The little girl grew into a beautiful woman, and she attracted the attention of a prince. They courted for a while, and the woman showed him the doll who’d saved her family from poverty. Disgusted by its horrible appearance, the prince broke off their engagement and rode away into the night. Because she still loved him, the woman asked the doll to grant her final wish: have the prince fall back in love with her. Once it was granted, the woman laid the doll on her childhood bed and went back to the castle. She planned to never return to the cottage and sever all ties with her poverty-filled life to make sure the prince stayed in love with her.”

Milo paused. The tension was thick enough to cut with a butter knife.

“The woman married the prince and forgot all about the doll. But the doll never forgot her. It granted all her wishes without complaint. It kept her company for ten years. And now it laid in a dark room, never to see the sun again. Anger consumed its mind. Oh, how it thirsted for vengeance. It flew to the castle on an otherworldly energy, and there it spotted the woman, brushing her hair…alone.”

He could see the whites of Zack’s eyes, and Milo crept closer, curling his hands into claws and looming as best he could.

“It crept closer…closer…closer…” Milo punctuated each word with a silent step until he hovered over Zack. Zack pressed himself against the tree with a strangled yelp.

“-and then it POUNCED!”

“AIYEEEH!”

Milo pulled Zack to his feet, laughing so hard he couldn’t breathe. “Oh man!” Milo doubled over. “That was, ha! Got you real good!”

Zack just stared at him. “I didn’t scream.”

“Wasn’t me either,” Melissa said. “Believe me, you would know if Zack screamed cause he sounds like a plucked Swellow. Whoever screamed a few minutes ago has more of a tone-deaf Loudred combined with a sick Swablu frequency.”

“I don’t sound like a plucked Swellow,” Zack mumbled.

“NO! DON’T TAKE MY PAPERS!”

Everyone jumped to their feet as a terrified businessman rushed past their resting spot and tripped over a large root. His briefcase spilled open, papers fluttering all around him. He dazedly shoved them back into the briefcase, muttering several curses to himself.

“Hand over those papers, old man!” another voice snarled.

The other man was dressed in a lava-red uniform, a stylized ‘M’ emblazoned across his chest. His hood had two strange horns on top. Milo stared at him, wondering why someone would choose to wear a thick red onesie in Hoenn’s tropical climate.

Diogee growled menacingly, only backing off when Milo gestured for him to stand down until they figured out what happened.

“What’s going on here?” Melissa asked.

“He’s trying to rob me!” the businessman shouted. “I swear, all I did was stop to take pictures of a Shroomish-I’ve always liked that Pokémon, you see-and Hoodie there jumped me and tried to steal my documents!”

“How many times have I told you to quit calling me Hoodie? It’s Ignacio! I-G-N-A-C-I-O!”

His protests went ignored as the group collected all the stray papers and put them back into the suitcase.

“Thank you, children,” the businessman gasped breathlessly. “I’m just gonna be going now and-“

Ignacio scowled. “You aren’t going anywhere! Hand over those papers or face the wrath of Team Magma!”

He posed dramatically, which would’ve looked a lot more threatening if he’d chosen a target without knowledge of meme culture.

Ignacio released a Zigzagoon and Koffing. “You’ve trampled on Team Magma’s dreams, and that’s unforgivable! For I am the Magma Grunt Ignacio who stands for humanity’s brighter tomorrow! In the name of Groudon, I shall incinerate you!”

“Aren’t you supposed to be saying love and justice or something?” Melissa asked.

“I wanted to, but it was copyrighted,” Ignacio admitted. “Seriously, I’m not a monster. I respect copyright law.”

“Whatever. I’ll sit this one out, boys,” Melissa said, dragging the businessman out of the way. “While you kick his butt, I’ll be organizing my photos.”

“I don’t remember you taking photos,” Zack said.

Melissa smirked. “I work in mysterious ways.”

“Enough babbling!” Ignacio sneered. “You fools will know the wrath of the 27th ranked Magma goon!”

“That’s supposed to be a bragging point?” Zack scoffed as he sent out Treecko.

Treecko chewed on his stick placidly as he sized up his opponents. Diogee moved into position, eyes fixated on Koffing.

Living near Mt. Chimney had long acquainted Milo and Diogee with the local Pokémon and their habits. Machop liked to test their strength by weightlifting Geodude, and one should never disturb their contests unless they wanted 44.1 pounds of living rock hurtled at them. Numel preferred sand baths, and Torkoal could only distinguish between light and dark.

On the Murphy Ranch, they sometimes had to announce the Purple Protocol in the event of a Koffing wandering onto the property. Its smoke and poisonous gas was harmful to the developing lungs of young humans and Absol, so all minors were to stay inside until the adults had gotten rid of the smoke and contained the Koffing until it could be relocated.

And it had the only type advantage on the current battlefield.

This was gonna be interesting.

“Create a Smokescreen cover!” Ignacio ordered. “Zigzagoon, Quick Attack on Treecko!”

Black gas spewed out of Koffing’s pores, obscuring it from view. Treecko braced himself, eyes trained on the smoke.

There was a slight rustle in the bushes behind Treecko, and a blurred shape shot out.

“Look out!” Zack yelled.

Zigzagoon knocked Treecko off-balance, though Treecko managed to dislodge it with a Pound. Soon the two were engaged in a high-speed Quick Attack fight.

Meanwhile, Milo and Diogee were trying to locate Koffing inside all the black haze with no luck.

Ignacio smirked. “Use Sludge!”

“Diogee, watch out!” Milo warned, but it was too late. Diogee’s eyes were covered in an inky material. Rearing back on his hind legs, Diogee unleashed several Cut attacks in random directions. One of them hit Koffing in the middle of its skull pattern, and another clipped Treecko’s tail. Zigzagoon emerged unscathed, though it panted heavily from exertion.  

A pile of splintered wood and apples crashed to the ground. There were some indignant squawks from bird Pokémon above, but none of them came down to disrupt the battle.

Zack snapped his fingers. “Use Mega Drain on Zigzagoon and get your strength back,” he said.

Zigzagoon was too dazed to follow Ignacio’s instructions to dodge, and a bright green glow lit up its body. The energy flowed into Treecko’s fingertips, rejuvenating him instantly.

“Great! Now grab those apples and stuff ‘em into Koffing’s pores!” Zack exclaimed.

Upon hearing his command, Melissa stuffed her unfinished scrapbook into her bag and hauled the businessman to his feet. “Zack, you do realize-“

Zack had a gleam in his eye.

“Uh, Melissa, I think your battle style’s rubbing off on him,” Milo said awkwardly.

Treecko grabbed a handful of apples and weaved around Koffing, easily outmaneuvering the Poison-type. Within minutes, Koffing’s pores were plugged, Treecko dusting his hands triumphantly.

“C’mon, blow those apples out!” Ignacio screeched.

Koffing groaned, eyes squeezed shut as it tried to blow the apples out. But Treecko had jammed them tightly, and only minuscule amounts of gas leaked into the air. With one last inhale, a glowing Koffing dropped into Treecko’s arms.

Treecko blinked for a moment, then tossed Koffing at Zack and hid behind Melissa, who backed away slowly.

“ACK!” Zack screamed and tossed the Poison-type at Milo.

“It’s using Self-Destruct!” Milo yelped, striking Koffing with a two-handed serve that would’ve made a professional volleyball player proud.

The Koffing landed in the businessman’s arms. The man paled immediately. “GlorytoArceusinthehighest,” he muttered a prayer rapidly in some ancient language Milo wasn’t even sure existed in their dimension.

“Quit being a baby!” Melissa snapped, yanking Koffing out of his arms and hurling it at Ignacio’s face.

But since Melissa was Melissa, she only managed to toss it one foot.

Koffing unceremoniously fell to the ground, its glow almost blinding.

“Diogee, follow my voice!” Milo yelled, grabbing Diogee’s horn once he was close enough and guiding him out of the blast radius.

“COWARDS!” Ignacio shook his fist as everyone fled the immediate vicinity. “WE IN TEAM MAGMA ALWAYS STAND OUR GROUND! FOR WE ARE PILLARS OF HUMANITY, UNYIELDING IN RESOLVE AND PUTTING OUR FOOT DOWN ON ALL MATTERS AND CRUSHING THOSE WHO OPPOSE US!”

“We should put him and Patchy in a room together,” Melissa remarked. “Who needs primetime television when you’ve got them?”

“You might want to reconsider your foot position,” Milo called to Ignacio.

Ignacio glanced down, his eyes widening to comical proportions.

“Well, crud.”

Koffing exploded in a glorious blaze of white light.

“Don’t worry,” Melissa told the trembling businessman, who seemed convinced that he would be arrested for environmental disturbances and manslaughter. “It’s just his pride that didn’t survive.”

AN: Ghost of Maiden’s Peak took place in Kanto, not Johto, but they share the same landmass so what the hey.

Using Koffing as a beach ball is ill-advised.

And now Team Magma is on the scene! Things are picking up!

[buildridernews]

[Review] Kamen Rider Build - Episodes 42-46

We're really getting close to the end here, folks! And since Katsuragi's dad is becoming more of a subject, bit of a running change to the reviews: I'm going to start referring to the Katsuragi in Sento's head by as Katsuragi like I have been, and refer to the dad as Shinobu. Simple fix. 

Episode 42: “A Skeptical Legacy” (疑惑のレガシー)

This picks up after Sento's last encounter with Evol and a Lost Smash. While it's merely a quick talking point that Evol has emotions now, the bigger mystery to solve is what happened to Sento's dad, since he may still be alive and no one can say for sure what his motives are. I mean, considering we've had bad dads since at least Wizard, I'd be cautious. Yeah, I'm counting Gaim. Takatora's dad had a history in Gaim Gaiden. Anyway.

Evol causes a scene, so the other Riders show up to take him on, only for him to pull some very intense bullshit and destroy the Toto government office! Seeing this black hole triggers something in Cross-Z Magma, causing him to lose control and beat the shit out of MadRogue, then take back the Dragon Fullbottle, which turns a silver color. After MadRogue flees, it seems we have another Build on the scene as he uses NinninComic Form to create a smokescreen and attack Cross-Z Magma and Grease, then flee without being seen. We then learn that this Build recognizes the silver Dragon Fullbottle as something to do with Hazard Level 7...

Disguising himself as the Seito prime minister, Evolt uses this opportunity to pretty much unify Japan under his control with a speech that all the nations root for. While this alone is enough to be cause for alarm, MadRogue then starts causing destruction with the claim that all the Kamen Riders have formed an anti-government movement, making every one of our heroes the enemies of Japan. Damn. One fell swoop.

Build and Rogue do their best to challenge MadRogue, but he's making Rogue feel pretty low as he laughs at how Toto's government is gone now. Build gives a nice speech about doing the right thing with the power they were given, both Gentoku's dad, and the Rider System that Build honestly believes was built by Shinobu to stop Evolt.

The two have Utsumi on the ropes, then the second Build from before shows up, telling thgem that the Rider System wasn't built for idealistic nonsense. He lands near them and disengages his transformation, revealing himself to be... Shinobu Katsuragi.

This is one of those episodes I'm glad wasn't the start of a hiatus.

Episode 43: “Another Build” (もう一人のビルド)

Sento can only watch as his father coldly takes on the other Riders as Build, until Cross-Z Magma loses control again as a result of Evolt's influence on him. In order to save a father he's unsure about, Sento transforms and delivers a final form kick to knock Cross-Z Magma back, which results in him being out of commission for a little bit. It also results in Kazumi and Gentoku leaving since they don't want to trust Sento in the state he's in.

Sento is once again left wondering what he's fighting for since he was essentially formed into a hero as a means to an end - Shinobu seems more concerned with collecting the Lost Fullbottles which would bring on a new world, meaning he is currently their enemy.

Things do not look any better for Shinobu as he and Evolt have lured Misora out with the promise of a tactic that will help Sento - unfortunately, she falls for it. The plan is to unleash Vernage by injecting her with lots of nebula gas, which of course is a fatal thing.

When Sento gets the call that Misora needs help, he finds her and discovers she's become the CD Lost Smash. It seems like he's on the ropes, as Shinobu joins her side as the other Build in order to take on our protag Build, explaining that Vernage's power is complicating things and could kill Misora.

Ryuga's back in action and lifts Sento out of his mood, reminding him that the things he believes in aren't illusions - there's a lot of awesome hot-blooded-shonen-spirit speeches going around~ The two transform, and when Cross-Z Magma loses control once again... Build gets an idea to help fix two problems.

Using Genius Form's special power, Build literally kicks the Mars out of Misora and sends it into Cross-Z Magma, neutralizing the effect of Evolt's influence and saving Misora from being a monster. The day is saved. And after nabbing the other Build's Rabbit Fullbottle, it turns gold in Build's hand, which he then uses to attack the other Build. This is when he lets Build know that he, like Cross-Z Magma, has reached Hazard Level 7, then escapes.

Shinobu returns to Evolt's side, being honest about how Build actually surprised him this time. Utsumi then lets them know that Kazumi and Gentoku are wandering the area... and it's at this point I remember that Kazumi is stronger but will apparently die if he loses a fight.

This is another one of those episodes I'm glad wasn't the start of a hiatus.

Episode 44: "Evolt's End" (エボルトの最期)

Kazumi and Gentoku are looking for a particular part of Faust when they're caught by Utsumi, and taken to the room where people are exposed to the nebula gas that turns them into Lost Smash. Meanwhile, Sento is using data from Ryuga's new Evolt-and-Vernage body to create the Blizzard Knuckle, a polar (HA) opposite to the Magma Knuckle.

Not all hope is lost as we learn that Kazumi and Gentoku were trying to get caught so that they could raise their Hazard Levels through the nebula gas. They try to escape, when Build and Cross-Z Magma make a surprise visit to rescue them.

This is when the second Build shows up, attacking Build's Hazard Trigger with a direct hit, then letting him know pretty directly that the world is doomed if Build stays as weak as he is - something about his wording seems odd, especially when he uses the blade of NinninComic to make Build teleport then tell Madrogue that Build escaped... Not only that, but he wants Evolt to do something for him with 3 of the purple Fullbottles.

At the cafe, the gang is back together since Sento has accepted that his dad is their enemy. He also seems to be in a rush to make progress, as he gets Ryuga to try and use the Blizzard Knuckle to transform, to no avail. As he thinks alone, Evolt calls him with what is presumably a typical "Kindly give me that Lost Fullbottle you have or die" offer. While Sento is frustrated over it all, he starts to read into what his father said in battle and the attack towards the Hazard Trigger...

Sento arrives at the usual abandoned factory to take on Evol, who knows he won't go down without a fight. As Build prepares to use the Blizzard Knuckle, the others how up knowing that Sento needs all the help he can get. They all work together to fight Evol, and even with a noticeable stat boost on Rogue and Grease, they're still heavily outclassed.

Finally, the ultimate finisher. Grease and Rogue distract Evol, while Cross-Z Magma uses the Blizzard Knuckle to deliver an icy punch to his Evol Trigger, causing him to revert to his default form. This allows Build to come in with a kick, which... actually kills him off! Smoke clears, no more villain!

While the others take this moment to celebrate, Sento seems perplexed that there are now 3 Lost Fullbottles - the same bottles he was given earlier - left as remains. The other Build swoops in and snatches them, letting them know this all went exactly as planned.

This is, again, makes me glad that this wasn't the start of a hiatus.

Episode 45: “The Scientist of Hope” (希望のサイエンティスト)

As Shinobu takes the Lost Fullbottles left behind by Evol, he also takes the Evol Driver and puts it into a special little tank, explaining that he was waiting for this moment so that he could seal away Evol. It seems that he's been working with Evolt all these years waiting for the right moment to betray him for the sake of humanity, which is making it a little hard for others to trust him. We also learn that the actual power of the Lost Fullbottles is the ability to warp through wormholes, which is certainly as unheard of as the vague documentation suggested.

While it seems all went well, Utsumi shows up, possessed by Evolt. It seems he had anticipated something and made sure that part of his DNA left his body before his defeat. He delivers a single attack to Shinobu, killing him. As Sento props him up, Shinobu hands Sento some sort of cards, and parting words. It seems like maybe there was a good man in there after all...

Grease is hit with a particular type of attack, and everyone manages a narrow escape with Pandora's Box, but the Lost Fullbottles are left behind with Evol. Only one left... and Sento has it.

At the cafe, Sento is trying desperately to get into some sort of files using the cards he was given. Shinobu left him with the hint that there was a white Pandora Panel that Evolt didn't know about, and that he needed to use the Hazard Trigger to figure it out. However, the voice of Katsuragi in his head has been very doubtful of his father ever since they learned he might still be alive, and now he's telling Sento that no such panel exists. Katsuragi won't be a fool to his father's deception anymore.

Evol causes trouble in Toto, which calls the Riders to action, minus Kazumi. Evol is using his default form, and reveals why: Kazumi wakes up, possessed by a bit of Evolt DNA, then steals the CD Lost Fullbottle from the girls and shows up to give Evol a complete set! And for some reason, Build can't use Genius Form right now!

This is when Evolt achieves a new evolution, a monster form that happens to be wearing a Rider belt despite being classified as a monster: Gamedeus Cronus Evolt (Monster Form). He's really on another level now, throwing people through buildings and even warping himself and Build to another planet just to destroy it and absorb it to become even stronger. He returns to Earth and gives Build a thorough beating, which actually seems to be enough to jog his memory...

At one point before the Skywall incident, Shinobu proclaimed he would find out if alien life exists, and when Katsuragi jokes that they might invade us, Shinobu says he wants to create something to defend them, and asks if Katsuragi would help - the reason Genius Form wasn't working so far was because Sento was so angry at Evolt for killing his father, when he really should be fighting for justice as his father did. So, he has the chance to fight once more.

Everyone joins together for a massive Rider Kick, which actually causes the Lost Fullbottle panel to escape Evolt's body! Build then punches the panel using a finisher, and the Hazard Trigger reacts, turning two of the bottles back to their normal purple color. Evol reverts back out of his monster form, perplexed and angered, then flees.

Following Evolt's speech as Mido, the Seito prime minister, unifying Japan, it seems that three new people have been enlisted to rule the three nations under Mido. As Utsumi comes to rub this loss in Evol's face, he threatens Utsumi to make sure he doesn't tell "those three" what he's REALLY after...

Finally, Sento figures out the password to these new documents from his father. With this, they can defeat Evolt.

At this point, this is where the movie takes place. Yes, it's weird, but so was the initial comment on the movie's placement. What they said before was that it took place "After the war for Pandora's Box", which was some news I addmittedly took as "Wait, isn't the war technically over now?" - at this point in the show, Evolt is unifying Japan, so yeah, the war is over. Which means that the movie which comes out a week after this next episode is meant to take place riiight now.

I know it's confusing, just like Ex-Aid's True Ending movie which has a confusing title for a movie that turned out to be a post-finale story that premiered during the show's run. Not totally into this trend either.

Episode 46: “A Vow To Be The One” ( 誓いのビー・ザ・ワン)

Oh damn, the opening theme (and movie) title gets dropped in an episode. Bit early, guys.

So I was curious how this episode would address the movie, and it does it... minimally? Evolt gives a speech as Seito's prime minister about how Japan has been unified, then transforms into Evolt to reveal what he is to all of Japan - he also presents a challenge for the Kamen Riders, a final battle for the planet at the top of Pandora Tower! But are they bad enough dudes to rescue the planet from aliens? We'll find out... now!

Making use of Ryuga's Evolt DNA, Ryuga places the Hazard Trigger into the open Pandora's Box, causing a new white panel to appear. As Sento learned from his father's documents, the black and white panels, combined with the Lost Fullbottles and Evolt's power, will basically allow them to fuse with an alternate reality that has no Skywall, safely undoing all of this and allowing them to be free of Evolt. Which is pretty crazy as far as plans go, and I can dig it. I'm curious how closely the finale will mirror that. No pun intended, for once.

Kazumi echos the fandom and requests a power-up from Sento so that he can be of more use to them, to which Sento - being Sento - reveals he was always intended to get one with the Blizzard Knuckle previously used against Evol. He even thought to use data from Kazumi's buddies as part of its bottle. However, he warns that the Hazard Level spike this item would give him would probably be too much for his body, so he should only use it as a weapon - nothing more.

The gang has a barbeque while they wait for shit to go down, and it's a wonderful character-building scene BUT the one thing of note here is Sento wanting to tell Ryuga... something. I am fully expecting that to come back later because Sento is just that good at last-second planning.

As the city prepares for the final showdown, Evol storms in with a huge army of Hard Guardians, with the Riders showing up to get this all over with. That's when Evol reveals the rules for his game: They have to make it up Pandora Tower, and with every 10 minutes they waste, he destroys a part of Japan - as he demonstrates to really show them the stakes involved. Legit, people are getting sucked into this black hole, it's horrific! So they better get this over with in at least two more episodes. With time for a wrap-up episode after and a Zi-O cameo.

So, not only does he do this, but as he waits outside, part of his DNA leaves his body. As the group enters the tower, we quickly see what the DNA went to: Clones of Akaba, Aoba and Kiba, which turn into Lost Smash - Grease stays behind to fight, as you'd expect.

Another small scene that needs to be addressed: With the sudden destruction caused by Evol, Misora and Sawa are looking for the Build Driver left behind by Sento's father, which I guess Sento hid in the Fullbottle chamber - mysteriously, it's missing. Also, Sawa gets a call from... Namba? HM. I suspect Evolt's got a rat. A rat bat. A mad-- you get the idea.

Grease does his best to deal with the Smash trio, but they keep tricking him by flinching in character, toying with his emotions. This is no time to hold back, as Evol causes more of the city to be eaten up by a black hole. Kazumi cancels out his transformation, reminding himself of just how broken he became after the deaths of his comrades, then breaks a promise to Sento by slapping on a Build Driver (his dad's, even, ouch) and transforms with the Blizzrd Knuckle... becoming Kamen Rider Grease Blizzard.

And that's how the episode ends - Grease finally joins the others with a new form, and it's with the implication that he'll die. Even the episode preview is leaning into this! This is definitely one of those episodes I'm glad wasn't the start of a hiatus.

...

Oh wait, it is. Fuck.

Yes, next week the show will be taking a break due to sports, a classic tradition. Those watching Lupinranger VS Patranger will get to carry on as usual while the Rider fans suffer this one out. And it's at the start of Build's final months, too...

Stay strong, my friends. Stay strong.

[glitchinthesystemspiderbyte]

Glitch in the System - Common Ground

Sure thing, @tacticalgrandma!

By K.

A professional agreement happens.

They raced the morning, running side by side through the Rialto to a syncopated rhythm comprised of footsteps and measured breaths.

Akande didn’t ask Widowmaker whether he could join her. He never did, nor did he need to: if not because of his rank, then because running, like reading, was a welcome - albeit unexpected - commonality they shared. Their schedules rarely aligned; when they did, she always found him waiting.

He stood at the outpost gate: a mountain of a man standing stone-still and just as quiet, somehow both among and above the world around him. Widowmaker saw him now the way few ever did: as a man, blinking away sleep as he waited patiently in a threadbare tee and sneakers that looked as tired as he did. To the rest of the world, he was Doomfist, the Successor. To her, he was just Akande. Few lived to see him in quite the same light; she had yet to decide whether she should count herself lucky or, appropriately, doomed.

“This is a surprise,” the sniper remarked, pausing at his side.

She was hardly there a second before he was off, running headlong into the first rays of  dawn without so much as a word.

Widowmaker followed.

They chased the sun’s slow ascent, a pastel spate of purples and pinks and oranges and golds staining otherwise clear Ventian waters. She paced herself by his breathing - louder, faster than hers, but every bit as practiced - and let him lead. Akande could trounce her in a sprint, but Widowmaker would always beat him in an endurance run. With no way of knowing how much he had in him, the assassin simply fell in line and waited.

That was the difference between them, she figured. Doomfist wanted to set the world on fire, to raze it in a single, concentrated act of force. For all his planning and careful strategy, there was a definitive end to the Successor’s work, and with it he, too, would burn. Akande harbored no dreams of despotism, only gunpowder: strong, volatile, and beautifully incendiary. By contrast, Widowmaker considered herself a cooler, slower-burning fire; she would persist until her work caught up with her, be it by way of a bullet or international tribunal. She required less oxygen in every sense of the word. When Akande blew up the world as they knew it and himself along with it, she would be left to watch.

Sometimes, she questioned whether that bothered her: that there would be a day when Akande’s flame would flicker while hers burnt strong. His philosophy didn’t matter to her. She lived for the function and form of her job - not the ideals she fulfilled in their execution. Those didn’t matter.

Akande, however, did.

Widowmaker struggled to qualify his exact meaning to her, and hers to him. He was as much her employer as Gabriel or Moira. The two comprised a sort of spectrum: her relationship with Gabriel was begrudgingly familial, while her rapport with Moira was frigid at best. Akande fell somewhere between the two, though he was far closer to Reaper’s extreme than the doctor’s. They engaged in heated discussions about literary romanticism over cracked eggs and fresh oats. They fought the most interesting - and challenging - sparring matches she could imagine, his mobility a hard counter to her flexibility. They ran and talked fashion and shared a deep appreciation for classical art.

They had respect - a thing neither offered another easily.

She wasn’t sure she could ascribe these attributes to friendship, but there was something like it gliding beneath the surface between them. Whatever it was, she didn’t mind it. It was more than she could say for most people.

“Stop.”

His voice rumbled between them, clipped but soft. She obeyed without a moment’s hesitation, watching the Successor’s momentum carry him a few steps further before he stopped in kind.

Akande turned to face her, a pronouncement lodged between his teeth: something he started to say and found suddenly spurious. Widowmaker blinked, brows raised in curiosity. “Ouais?”

“You are due for supplementary neural reconditioning,” he offered flatly.

Widowmaker felt something in her chest tighten as a spectre of dread closed a fist over her heart.

“Ah,” she managed, forcing herself to meet Akande’s eyes. “Well. It has been some time.”

It was true. The space between debilitating batteries of chemical and electroconvulsive treatments spanned the full length of Moira’s years-long absence. Of course, she thought. Of course Moira would return from wherever she was and attempt to wrest control of her life with one spindly claw.

Then again, even Moira operated on a cracked foundation of reason. The process was not simple, nor easy, and its invasiveness as much as its intensity would put her out of commission for weeks. There had to be a reason.

“Is my performance unsatisfactory?” Widowmaker asked, searching.

Akande shook his head.

“Even after Madrid?” she pressed.

“No,” he scoffed. “You obey orders and fulfill objectives. Your judgement in the field sound and you take risks when and where appropriate. You exceed training requirements and require little to no oversight. You are exactly as you were programmed to be.”

She watched Doomfist as he spoke, searching for clues and finding him impenetrable as ever. Sombra she could read; Gabriel, too. Moira less so, but one could generally assume of her logical, if not callous conclusions. Akande was like a fortress, his thoughts and intent obscured by walls and doors and airtight security protocols. His feelings were only ever evident in the moments they appeared - yet another similarity they shared.

“Why, then?” she asked. “Le médecin has been here months now. Shouldn’t she have performed this… maintenance earlier?”

“She didn’t think she needed to,” Akande replied. “She knows, Lacroix. I know.”

Understanding hit her, appropriately, like a meteor: a swift and devastating strike from an unplaceable beyond, unheralded and unstoppable. In its wake was a yawning hollow, a crater to catch the flood of thought wrought by its impact.

“Oh.”

A single sound was all she had; a lonely sound pressed between teeth and lips that refused to articulate the scream welling behind them. She knew it was inevitable, that Moira would notice and read the fine print. She knew, had known, had tried so hard to be careful, to avoid the geneticist’s attention beyond the scope of her duties.

Widowmaker realized with disappointing clarity that it wasn’t her performance that was unsatisfactory; it was her performance.

“Lacroix,” Akande prodded, his voice breaking through the traitorously calm beating of her heart in her ears.

She opened her mouth to reply, to offer a placatory “I understand”, but found the composite syllables coarse and unweidly. She understood, but didn’t want to accept that understanding. Refusal welled like magma, a snarl of heat bubbling beneath the ocean’s current.

“You said my performance is not unsatisfactory.”

Doomfist inclined his chin - a gesture of agreement and appraisal in equal measure. “I did.”

“And is, in fact, quite the opposite.”

“Correct.”

The seconds stretched between them as she sifted through the river of thought for a response. It reminded her of those first, pivotal moments when confronting an enemy hand-to-hand. She realized Akande wasn’t watching; he was analyzing. Evaluating. She didn’t know whether this was intended as a test, but it certainly felt like one: a qualifying exam with no clearly defined parameters for success or failure.

With no litmus test for either, she considered whether she would benefit from acquiescence, and found her conclusions anything but favorable.

Luckily, she was unafraid of taking risks; he’d said it himself.

“This would not be a problem were I not the party in question,” she wagered.

“Perhaps. But your neural conditioning—,”

“—has no observable impact on my work unless there is a universal system failure,” she cut in, recalling that single, fateful dossier given to her almost a year earlier. “It was designed that way. Even if that happened, my emotional reflexes would take years to return to normal. It is a non-issue.”

Akande eyed her with pointed curiosity. “She could make the case you are broken - that affection will lead to remorse will lead to fear. She could claim you are obsolete.”

He was reaching.

Widowmaker found her opening.

“Then I would direct her to my training evaluation and field reports. To the fact you have only a moment ago said that is not the case.”

Doomfist opened his mouth to interject, but she refused him the courtesy. “I am the best. That is what I was made to be - what was chosen for me. Moira likes percentages; mine are in my favor. I have chosen one thing, Akande. Let me have it.”

He bowed his head slightly in thought, tapping a calloused finger to his chin in an idle gesture of consideration. Widowmaker didn’t presume her ability to sway him, nonetheless Moira. At least she could say she tried.

Eventually, he sighed. “I will tell doctor O’deorain to review your records. She will find any further reconditioning unnecessary at this time.”

“Merci,” she exhaled, stifling a tired smile. “It is appreciated.”

“Breakfast?” Akande offered, as if the suggestion succeeded the most casual of conversations.

Widowmaker shook her head. “I am disgusting.”

“Me, too.”

Doomfist nodded his thanks to their server, following the aproned omnic with his eyes as they hovered a line of retreat back to the kitchen. He wore an expression of idle disbelief, brows raised slightly as he nudged one of the two cups of espresso before him toward the sniper.

“Qu’est-ce que c’est?” Widowmaker asked, accepting his offering and plucking the small spoon from its serving dish. “You are concerned? Should I kill them?”

She hadn’t meant it as a joke, but the man across from her smirked regardless.

“What?”

“It is strange,” he mused. “We do not exactly have low profiles, you and I.”

“Mm.”

“They must recognize us. One of us, at least. But, here we are.”

Widowmaker glanced over one shoulder, watching the waitstaff as they moved from counter to table and back again, exchanging pleasantries and orders with the handful of guests seated around the bar. Any one of them could and should recognize Doomfist; in fact, she did not suspect they didn’t.

Returning her gaze to her drink, the assassin shrugged and set to scooping the crema from its surface. “Who here could raise a hand to you?” she asked plainly, as if inquiring about the weather. “It would be stupid. A death sentence.”

“And you?” Akande asked, smiling.

“Please.”

“She treats you well?”

Widowmaker blinked, glancing back to Akande. “Quoi?”

“Does she?”

It was a strange question, coming from him - from anyone in Talon’s employ, really. In fact, it was the most direct inquiry anyone had made into her relationship with Sombra. Even Gabriel, who was notoriously devoid of delicacy and in possession of the very worst sense of timing, avoided anything so pointed. Then again, this was something of the the norm: for all his stoicism at work and in the field, Akande was always strangely forthcoming in the fleeting seconds he made his feelings known. Widowmaker accordingly assumed of his question a modicum of sincere interest, and indulged it carefully.

“Yes,” she murmured, setting her spoon aside. “She understands… me. What I am, where my story will end, why. She understands. And she is warm. Something I am not.”

“Warm,” the man repeated, the word slowed by uncertainty.

Widowmaker lifted the cup to her lips but didn’t drink. There was something behind Akande’s eyes, some new darkness she didn’t recognize. His expression neither changed nor faltered, but something was perceptibly different.

“Oui,” she continued. “It is not something I missed. But it is something I lack, and something I can appreciate.”

He nodded, though his expression remained unplaceable. Doomfist seemed focused, but neither on her nor their conversation; he was honing in on something adjacent it instead. Perhaps he’d found a a finer point between her words, a thought or concept she’d unknowingly brushed against?

“You are confused?” she guessed.

He shook his head. “No.”

“Then what?”

Akande watched the idle swirl of dark liquid as he turned his cup in a slow rotation. A moment later, he pushed it aside and leaned forward on his elbows, narrowing the space between them significantly. In anyone else, it would have appeared conspiratorial, maybe even intimidating. For him, it seemed oddly vulnerable. “I have sacrificed many things to get where I am,” he said quietly. “What you are talking about is among them.”

“Do you regret it?” Widowmaker asked.

“Not quite. It is more like positive and negative spaces; something’s absence is not bad, but it is noticeable. Something’s presence is not innately good, but you know it is there.”

A thin, knowing smile slipped across Widowmaker’s lips. She knew the feeling well, but hearing someone else give voice to it was validating in a way she rarely experienced. That that someone was Akande was somehow even more so.

“So, no,” Akande continued, squaring his shoulders. “I do not regret it. I made a choice as to what is important to me, and what I can live without.”

“You can make other choices,” the sniper added. “It is not unlike warfare.”

“You think so?” Something flashed across Akande’s face, even faster than normal. Widowmaker wondered whether it was that same sense of validation, that feeling of one’s isolating circumstances being anything but singular. Yet as soon as it was there, he suppressed it, pushing that hint of curiosity from his face as if it were some terrible secret worth hiding.

She wondered if it was the same sort of hope her programming was supposed to forbid.

“Cross that,” he said, the command buoyed by a note of something she suspected was sadness. “Don’t answer that. This is… inappropriate. I am sorry, Lacroix.”

She watched as he stood, sweeping one broad hand across the table to lift the tiny cup to his lips, drain it, and set it aside. He reached into his pocket and tossed a few credits on the table, then turned his back to her.  “I should get back to base.”

“Defeatism is unbecoming of you,” she said over the rim of her own cup. “As is cowardice.”

He hesitated, and Widowmaker could swear she heard him laugh: a small, bitter, self-aware sound. “You wouldn’t know a thing about it,” he sighed. “Take the day off. I’m going to go clear the doctor’s schedule.”

*Read from the beginning or check out our intro post! All stories tagged under #glitchfic. Table of contents located here.

[the-kabal-of-dissent]

Closing Narrative Chapter. (Game 3 of 3) Synapse of the Battle Thus Far Weeks have gone by since the initial invasion of Tzeentchian forces on the planet. The Eldar defenders overrun in the initial planet fall but were able to call upon old allies for help. An alliance forged in the fires of battle before. And while these first Eldar fell and fought with ferocity, the Demon of fates wove another tail

The Dark Eldar emerged into realspace fast and hard. Bypassing the frontline, and striking straight into the phalanx of the attacking demons. Stunning high command on the planet and even forcing Magnus to fall back under the fierce surprise attack. As the time came to land the final blows, even surrounded as reinforcements were called in, the Dark Eldar forced a retreat. Trouble at the Dark City bringing them back from the battle lines as they held down the fort at home. While this second attack weakened Tzeentch he was not defeated, merely slowed. Slowed enough for a combined counterattack with remaining planetside defenders.

Badly bruised, with many of their own dead. The final operation played out under the full blood moon. The Dark Eldar sending the best Scourge Mercs and Coven Allies they could to the battle field making up the front lines in walls of flesh and sinew. Barbs and butchers blades, as Scourge waited to strike fast and hard with haywire weapons, and shredders. The Eldar supplementing with heavy equipment, a fighter ace, Rangers who alerted the oncoming hordes, and the Avatar himself.

The horizon layed blurred. Reality itself.. untrustworthy as Tzeenthian forces took the field with Harlequin allies? Both Eldar commanders could only look upon each other with confusion, now only trusting their alliance on the planet. The Harlequins moved with blistering speed, but lacking punch to break through the thick flesh and armor of the Talos front line. While they could do little to stop them from running over and attacking at exposed commanders, they could counterattack and lay waste to machine and flesh alike. Harvesting bits for their masters. Even the deep striking terminators found trickery on the battlefield as they had saved themselves from the mighty Talos, and laid into the Archon who had taken the lead, they merely destroyed a mock image of the Archon still heading up his own fight back in the dark city. (Archon failed his shadow-field on the first roll).

While the Archon was all tricks, the Avatar and the group of Grotesque where surely not. As Magma and ravenous butchery tore the intrusion asunder in a flurry of anger and blood-lust, The Autarch could only watch the master and the monsters make quick work of The Thousand Sons elite infantry. Unable to land hits on heavy weapon platforms, and with most Talos still standing the Thousand sons called in their Tzangors, summoning them into reality, but alas even they fell to the battle enraged Talos. The Bottom of Turn 3 and top of 4 turning into a blender, as this became a battle of a fighting withdrawal for the Tzeentchian forces.

In the end the alliance held strong once more and the tendrils of fate unwrap from the planet as all sides lick their wounds and ready themselves for more combat and bloodshed sure to come in this unstable system of madness. Where even Harlequin allies, which the Eldar generals can only hope were illusions can show up on the other side of a bloodgame.

Warfare is eternal. Blood will fall. Countless heroes lay forgotten. You will not be missed. But today, for the odd alliance of Eldar Heroes, one line was held and a planet saved. It's denizens safe, and the Eldar shrines preserved.  Slaves taken, and scrap reforged into new monsters of war, into new machines for the Dark Eldar.

Until next time. The Raiding Forces of the Eldar, out.

[infjtarot]

9 of Pentacles ~ Wheel Of Change Tarot

  Meteors in the Atmosphere above a Cross Section of the Planet Earth The body of our planet has a particular structure—a form and a pattern—that is analogous to the pattern of the creatures that make the earth their home. On the outside of the planet, above the surface, are the layers of the earth’s atmosphere. The upper atmosphere contains gas molecules, which are electrically charged by cosmic rays from space and from the sun’s rays. This is the part of the atmosphere where the northern lights are created by streams of solar particles. The earth is a magnet, and the poles attract these particles, forming the auroras. The outer atmosphere is analogous to humans’ interactive space. We talk about the “atmosphere” at a party, by which we mean the nature of the interactions between the people and the character of the outer surroundings. These things are a function of our bodies and are determined by our personality and our desire for relationship with others. Like the auroras that form in this outer layer, we sometimes experience magical reactions, as when two people are drawn “magnetically” together. The aurora is just such a special kind of interaction between the sun and earth. Also in the atmosphere are bits of burning rock and dust: shooting stars, or meteors. Here they represent the information that whirls all around us, some of which we see and understand and some of which goes unnoticed. The hot meteor is particularly symbolic of valued information that fuels our creativity because it resembles a wand from the active suit of fire. We also see a comet coming close to the planet. Comets are small bits of ice, rock, and dust that were formed at the edge of the solar system while the planets were being formed. A comet looks like a fuzzy patch in the sky with a tail. It maintains approximately the same position over the night relative to the stars and is seen to move over several nights, much like the moon. The comet is representative of events in our lives that last a fairly brief time but affect us greatly—perhaps a person who has briefly affected us, the death of a close friend or loved one, or a brief and passionate love affair. The surface of the earth is the living skin of the planet. On this skin, where the friction between the atmosphere and the hard, dense, rocky, watery surface of the earth occurs, complex life forms arise. These living things, from one-celled organisms to larger animals and plants, represent a more complex arrangement of the elements of nature. The outer crust of our planet is symbolic of the skin of the individual person; it is through this layer of our living bodies that we experience and relate to the world. The skin is the largest of the body’s organs and it serves to contain—and in some sense define—the individual because it is what we immediately see and experience in interactions with fellow human beings. In this way it is the living interactive skin that is the most alive in the world, just as the crust of the earth is its most living component. Under the skin of the planet earth is the mantle—which is of a greater density and is semifluid—represented in the card by the bright red layer under the surface of the crust. The volcanic magma arises from this inner part of the earth. The magma and fluid mantle symbolize our blood and circulatory system; like the earth, we will erupt when a hole forms in our outer skin (see also the Tower card). Under the molten layer are the denser part of the mantle and the layers of the earth’s core. These are the layers of the planet about which we know little, as we are not yet directly able to explore these regions. This is analogous to the early understanding of the internal organs of the body; even though humans dissected people and animals, at first they had very little idea what part these organs played in the functioning of our bodies. Even today we do not fully understand the inner workings of the body. We believe that the deeper mantle of the earth is made up of silicate rocks of iron and magnesium. The deep core of the earth is hotter and denser, with the outer core made up of molten iron, while the innermost part of the planet is a solid iron ball. This rocky layer might be seen as the inner organs of the body, or as the bones, which support the living tissue around them. Inside the bone is the marrow, which is the body’s factory for making blood, symbolized by the molten outer core. The solid inner core can be seen as the cell or of the primitive building block of the universe: the atom. Δ When this card is a part of your Tarot reading, it may prompt you to look into the underlying structures around you and the atmosphere you live in. You may want to apply the card literally as a reference to your own body and its health and structure. But you may also apply it to the community and its collective “body.” In this way you will find the central issues and discover that each layer of any situation is dependent on the preceding one. The new process or layer will have characteristics in common with each successive layer, and all the layers will function together. The interdependence of the various levels of any operation or project is crucial. For instance, in building a house it is necessary to build the foundation first, then the floor and the walls. This is the kind of thing you should look for in your life. Are you proceeding from the ground up, or are your castles in the air? Look carefully at the inner workings of the current situation. Are the people involved each performing their function relative to the whole? Are they able to complete their individual parts in order for progress to be made? Make sure the atmosphere is right and communication is open and direct. Last, be observant: watch the sky for those symbolic shooting stars so that you will have all the information available for the best possible outcome. Alexandra Genetti. The Wheel of Change Tarot.