#while currently looting

[murasaki-cha]

"Oh man I remember my days of stealing and scamming just left and right"

- Cale while currently committing theft

[missr3n3]

i've missed having good headphones <3

[cryptidafter]

getting held hostage at the trader joe's by a worker who thinks you are much nerdier than you actually are

[hattedhedgehog]

My (spoiler-free) thoughts on Dragon Age: The Veilguard

The review embargo has lifted and I can officially say that I've played through Dragon Age: The Veilguard early! 

Here are my spoiler-free thoughts and personal opinions on the overall gameplay experience: 

Narrative:

Rook's dialogue and decisions impact SO MUCH of the game, and come into play later on. From companions remembering your beverage preferences, to whether someone you spared shows up later to help or harm you, it feels like the game is paying attention and that you matter.

The stakes are unbelievably high. The Evanuris are utterly terrifying villains, in ways that Corypheus wasn’t. You really feel the magnitude of their power on a personal level as well as a worldwide level.

Whatever your thoughts on him, Solas is FUN as a character. He’s fun to talk to, fun to talk strategy with, fun to rile up and verbally spar with and fun to grudgingly ally with. Now that he can drop his former act and appear to you as the Dread Wolf, and you get to see his memories, you and he team get to decide how to utilise his knowledge and how far your trust extends.

The setup and payoff of the story beats are absolutely superb. The emotional turmoil as a player of being ensnared by things that was foreshadowed earlier in the game is utterly exquisite. Every thread of the larger tapestry has been woven with so much love by the writing team, and every character’s arc tie into the larger story in interesting ways.

The characters feel like they have full lives outside of the player character. You frequently go exploring their home turf and can meet their friends and family. They interact with each other on their own and move about the Lighthouse to spend time together, leave notes for each other, and talk about each other even when the other isn’t there. The team feels like they all really care about each other as well as you. 

You can tell what your approval rating is with characters, but if you want to romance them you have to put some thought into it. Interactions and world events besides the heart on the dialogue wheel influence their attraction to you.

Gameplay:

The combat is very engaging, and I enjoyed how unique all the enemies were.

Abilities in the skill tree can be refunded so you can redirect to a different specialization, which is really handy if you’re indecisive and overwhelmed at first (like I get when choosing abilities).  Most companions can get healing abilities no matter what class, so you don’t have to worry about balancing your rogues/mages/warriors (most of the time).

Climbing, balancing on ledges, using ziplines and sliding down slopes made environments feel more immersive. Additionally I like how each companion has unique abilities that let them interact with the world (fixing mechanisms, breathing fire, summoning bridges from the Fade, etc), and learning their abilities alongside them helps you grow closer.

The wayfinder light makes everything feel streamlined, so it's way harder to get lost while exploring an area. I hardly had to look at the mini map at all, and usually I’m glued to it! This meant I could actually look around at the beautiful environments and appreciate how lively they were, even without NPCs.

The upgrade system is far less overwhelming than in Inquisition; there are a finite amount of weapons/armour/accessories to be found, which are designed for each specific character like in DA:O and DA:2. There's also no longer crafting from scratch. If you loot an item you already have, it automatically upgrades the single item rather than giving you duplicates.

You know that frustration of coming across higher-level armour that just isn’t as flattering as your current one? Not to worry, you can collect “appearances” which you can toggle on as the visual for the armour while still retaining the benefits of the original.

I cannot stress enough how simple and easy to use the inventory is. It's heavenly. 

Using the shops of specific cities increases your reputation within those cities, which is a good incentive to explore and use the shops. I usually hate in-world shopping but here it was simple, and thinking about it tactically worked pretty well.

Quests sometimes reach a point where you can't continue at your current place in the story, and must return to in later acts. When re-exploring familiar areas, everything feeling big enough to be fresh with each visit, and new loot and codex entires appear.

Edit: something I forgot to mention. In character creator, you get to make your Inquisitor after you make Rook. The build menus are all the same, so manage your energy accordingly for doing it all again immediately after for your Inky. I spent an hour and a half building my Rook and wanted to get right to playing, and had to re-wire my brain a bit to be patient and keep going with the CC. (Seeing my Inquisitor with new graphics was awesome though).

A couple little things I appreciated:

The control sounds are very pleasing. From the whoosh of opening the combat wheel to the clinking of upgrades to the subtle whir of holding the decision button, they're a nice touch.

If companions are interrupted in conversation by combat, they resume it afterwards with a "what were you saying before?".

Photo mode is so fun to play with, and you can adjust blur/brightness/lens/depth within the scene. You can also toggle on and off the visibility of your Rook, your party, NPCs and enemies!

Assan learns new interaction tricks at the Lighthouse as the game goes on.

Nitpicks:

Overall I had an incredibly positive experience. The gripes I had were tiny things like:

I genuinely like the new art style of the game as a whole. However, the blurriness of some of the features in contrast with some elements being very crisp was distracting.

When trying to sell valuables for faction points without using Sell All, it takes quite a long time to count up all the individual sales, and it isn't a live counter. So it's kind of annoying if you get +3 points for each item you sell, need 150 points to get the next tier of items, and over 10K worth of valuables that you want to sell to other factions. 

If you do lots of quests without returning to the Lighthouse often, occasionally companions at the Lighthouse will have dialogue pertaining to the quests you've just finished as if you haven't done them.

You can pet the dogs and cats in the cities, but Rook turns their back to the camera to do it and it blocks most of the action unless you rotate quickly.

Gender stuff:

I was incredibly moved that not only can Rook be trans/nonbinary in the character creator if you so choose, but they get options to feel differently about their identity and journey, and it impacts their dialogue and how they relate to other characters! To access this make sure to interact with Varric's Mirror in your room in the Lighthouse. There are many conversation options throughout the game to discuss your identity with other characters, or relate your change of self to other situations. Crucially, it comes up when entering a romance and you have to communicate with your partner about it, which I never even THOUGHT of including in a game because it seemed impossible to even allow trans main characters to begin with.

There are also multiple trans and nonbinary characters throughout Thedas. What I found the most realistic was that just like in life, it is a consistent presence in any character's life, and comes up in conversation more than once. I have never seen a game this forthcoming and open about the topic of transitioning, and it was so validating. 

Final thoughts:

I adore the other games in the franchise. Something about The Veilguard affected me in a way no other game has. I cried multiple times while playing this game, both from joy and sadness. What struck me most is that the people who worked on this game REALLY listened to feedback from previous games, and were very set on making a piece of art that meant something to people. Even during the last few years of me testing the game, things have been adjusted and changed in direct response to our reactions and suggestions. It's surreal and quite touching.

Mileage will vary, but my playthrough was 70 hours on very low difficulty and I haven't done every side quest yet. I could easily have spent more than 100 hours in the game if I wasn't pressed for time.

I hope you enjoy this game as much as I have. See you in Thedas.

[tarnishedtwill]

Nevarran Locations & Landmarks

Nevarra City– This is the capital of Nevarra. Home to the Grand Necropolis among other things. This is also primarily where most festivals and balls are held, as well as where the Palace of King Markus is located. Nevarra City is also home to the  residence of the Anaxas house, and location of the Duchess Games. [Though the current ruler of Cumberland hails from this family: Duke Sandral Anaxas.] It is also home to the Castrum Draconis as well as the Minanter River which carves through it.

Castrum Draconis– Vast Botanical Gardens with hundreds of statues depicting Royalty and Heroes of legend [Powerful Generals, Dragon Hunters etc.] Along the roadways leading up to the Castrum are stately columns of black marble amidst which statues of Kings & Queens of Nevarras past are on prominent display. In Autumn there is a festival held [ see Ancestral Pageant in my Nevarran Culture Post] where many great families hire performers to recreate famous moments in the statues lives by lantern light. Often draping the statues themselves with their house colors. Notably the Pentaghasts and Van Markhams tend to compete for the best show each year.

Blackthorne Manor– The estate was gifted to a family who then took on it’s name by Queen Vanneska the Fourth. [codex: ‘A Tale of the Blackthornes’] Twenty Generations have walked its halls, [meaning if a generation is estimated at 25-30 years, I would potentially date both the manner and Vanneska to 500-600 years ago, placing somewhere around 3:50 Towers to 4:50 Black.] That said, the codex this is from is annotated by Emmrich stating this must have been written in better days– that no one knows what horrible fate befell the Blackthornes. Noting rumors of suspicious deaths, untended crypts and salacious affairs. [This means that my date estimates could be to young and the manor could be even older.] At some point since its abandonment, it became the base for the Necromancer Johanna Hezenkoss.

Grand Necropolis– A large mausoleum sometimes said to be at the heart of Nevarra city while other sources say it's on the outskirts of the city. This is the main base of operation for all Mortalitasi, including the Mourn Watch. There are open-air gardens, crypts, and mausolieums. The structure is as large as a city in its own right, some royal burials being described as palaces of their own. [Lead concept artist Matt Rhodes remarked while designing the structure that, at least in early concepts, his inspiration was an inverted Tower of Babel. The Mortalitassi, instead of seeking knowledge from the stars, they seek it from their dead.] It is also of note that the geography of the Necropolis shifts quite a bit. Chambers are known to shift and change sporadically. [Note the Memorial Gardens being lost until Rook discovers they had moved to the Vault of the Beloved & also the lack of panic over the Basalt Hypogeum at first because it was thought they moved within the Necropolis, not that they were stolen.] Though Emmrich does say during the 'Walking the Graves' questline that it is unlikely for a section to move while people are inside of it, impling it's more common for less traversed chambers to shift. Unless I am mistaken it appears the cause of this is shift is largely unknown, if not gently implied that it's something to disuade tomb raiding. [I cannot remember which dialogue it is said in, I will search, but I am pretty sure looting deterents are mentioned at one point.] While some areas like the gardens are open to the public for days of mourning, many of the lower wings are heavily restricted even among the order.

Basalt Hypogeum– A vast section of the Necropolis that was stolen and transported to Blackthorne Manor to facilitate Johanna Hezenkoss’ experiments. Many Watchers were curious of its disappearance as it was sudden, though the Necropolis does tend to shift often. Myrna noted it was a ‘matter of strange obliquity’. Once Johanna is defeated Myrna notes a great magic will be required to attempt to transport and restore the wing to its place in the Necopolis. Design wise we know this is one of the more impressive and old sactums within the Necropolis, the basalt being shipped from Rivain in 4:57 Black. We also know the name of the Stonemason who crafted its impressive halls: Othmar Gerdebrand.

Cascades– One of the ‘Lost Watcher’s Wings’

Chamber of the Unforged– This is a hexagonal chamber with several small treasure caches on each spoke. Notably this is where Rook faces the Formless One when it possessed the body of a taxidermied high dragon. It is considered one of the ‘Lost Watcher’s Wings’. The hallway leading to this chamber seems to hold several important memorials, as statues, paintings and gated off rooms of gold and urns line each side. [Knowing that the Tanhausen family commissioned the high dragon to be taxidermied it could possibly be a wing for their quite prominent family. However we do know that the ‘last’ crypt of the Tanhausen’s is in the Memorial Gardens.]

Charnel Bridge– Mentioned briefly in banter between Bellara and Emmrich for good places to learn more about undead. It’s briefly mentioned that the ‘nightmare fog’ has overwhelmed it.

Charnel Pyramid– A section of the Necropolis that is ‘disagreeably cursed.’ [Codex entry: From Myrna, on Rediscovering the Gardens] Myrna recommended that the Pyramid should go through a lustration before the next Equinox. [Lustration: a policy that removes public officials or beings from positions of power associated with a repressive regime; this makes me wonder if it is similar to the situation with undead during the War of Banners.] The area surrounding the pyramid must also be quite sizeable as it was debated to be used as a backup location for public days of mourning in the event the location of the Memorial Gardens was not rediscovered in time.

Cobalt Ossuary– A resting place for skulls within the Necropolis. This is the location of the spiritual disturbance in the short story ‘A Flame Eternal’ in which a skull began to hiss and scream from it’s niche. [We know that some royal families and high nobility have full Palaces as their resting places. I would assume an Ossuary with skulls in niches more than likely is for lower nobility, or even commoners if they are able to be inturned in the necropolis, based oh how unextravagant in sound in comparison. But this is just a guess.]

Crescent Fane– Another chamber of burial, described vaguely as having sunken black walls, with bowls of silver flames [I am not sure if this is a descriptor for veilfire or something else entirely.] around each coffin. [‘A Flame Eternal’] The only known person interred here is a woman named Mathilde, whose husband’s skull became restless until they were once again joined together. [Fane, also means a temple or shrine, so it is possible this is a temporary resting place for the recently dead, maybe to prepare them or just until they are moved to a more final resting place, as Emmrich mentions Mathilde passed ‘in her sleep, last midnight.’]

Hollow Belfry– This seems to be a common area, or main spoke. Several hallways branch off into the other chambers of the Necropolis. The center has a lowered portion where Myrna and Vorgoth tend to be stationed, alerting watchers to hauntings & providing the guild market. It also has an upper atrium. Above the chamber sets a massive bell called the Sunken Star. It is responsible for keeping malign spirits from entering certain chambers of the Necropolis (but probably not 100% of them). A ritual is need to ring the bell, so more than likely it happens intermittently through the year as the wards weaken. The direct quote when pertaining to the Sunken Star’s ability: “…in fact any malicious spirit that hears the tolling of the bell will be banished back into the Fade.”

The Memorial Gardens– This is where public days of mourning are held, while we don’t know it’s original location we do know that this chamber went missing before appearing at the vault of the Beloved [Which, in my opinion is in some way the Necropolis foreshadowing Emmrich & Rook getting together (conditional) since this seems to be Emmrich’s favourite spot to wander, and well Vault of the Beloved… anyways I digress.] The Garden is a cemetery that spralls outward amongst an array of flowers and statues.  This includes the Tableau of the Dead, created from real skeletons in 7:20 Storm. As well as the large statuary monument ‘Love in Life and Death’ which displays two skeletons kissing among other posed figures, overgrown with a flower called shrouds kiss. This is a statue dedicated to the enduring passion of those bound by love. We know that the Rites of Rememberance can be performed by Watchers here as well as a meditative puzzle involving the cleansing bells. In addition to that, the only known/named people to be buried here are Rupert & Elannora Volkarin [Emmrich’s parents], and  the last tomb of the Tanhanhausen line. 

The Path of Glory– Just off to the Side of the Memorial gardens. It holds rooms featuring boardgames, grave mist, and such along with it’s skeletons.

The Path of Sighs– One of the ‘Lost Watcher’s Wings’.

Shrouded Halls– One of the ‘Lost Watcher’s Wings’.

Spectral Court– One of the ‘Lost Watcher’s Wings’.

Unspoken Valley- Mentioned briefly in banter between Bellara and Emmrich for good places to learn more about Spirits. It’s briefly mentioned that the ‘nightmare fog’ has overwhelmed it.

Upper Mortuary- in banter with Neve, Emmrich mentions he left several of his books in his apartment at the Necropolis. When questioned if most Mourn Watchers live on the Necropolis grounds, he simply replies that the ‘Upper Mortuary is quite pleasant.’ this to me signifies that he is not the only one, and/or this could be one of many more residential areas within the Necropolis. I would assume if this is an area for high up faculty, students and trainees may be housed elsewhere.

Vault of the Beloved– One of the ‘Lost Watcher’s Wings’. This is the new resting place of the Memorial Gardens.

Weeping Vale– We simply do not know much about what the Weeping Vale is, but dialogue between Emmrich and Rook (conditional to Mourn Watch) tells us that recently there was a problem solved by the Mourn Watch to stop wandering cenotaphs from appearing. [A cenotaph is a memorial or monument to someone whose body is buried elsewhere. This is typically done to honor those who died in war, but not always.]

Flora of the Necropolis– I cannot find much on plants related to Nevarra specifically, but some are mentioned directly, or visually matched from past games: Variegated Weeping Widower, Shrouds Kiss, Blue Creepvine, Moon Blossom, Embrium* [A flower that is similar in apperance and color except for the ember at the center is found in some of the vases] & unknown willows capable of making their own noises [Codex: New Fauna].

Hunter Fell– A small city west of the capital. This is where King Caspar Pentaghast is from, as well as the location of the tea house that Charter calls a meeting of spies to discuss the movements and motivations of Solas. [Tevinter Nights: The Dread Wolf Take You] The only other thing to really note is that when Tylus Van Markham seized the throne from King Nestor Pentaghast [5:37 Exhalted], several surviving Pentaghasts fled to Hunter Fell. Eventually in 9:42 Dragon, the Inquisiton was called in to investigate Duke Tythas Pentaghst, ruler of Hunter Fell. He commanded a network of spies and warriors called the ‘Five Belles of Hunter Fell’ suspected of being tied to the Venatori.

Cumberland– One of the largest cities in Thedas, it sits South of Nevarra city, where the Imperial highway forks and portside to the Waking Sea. Not only does it function as a major trading port but also as a seat of immense knowledge. Home to the College of Magi, which is thought to bear the brightest mages and scholars throughout Thedas. It is also where many tournaments of combat, and archery are held. The current ruler is Duke Sandral Anaxas.

Diamond Lass– in the ‘Dragon’s Den’ district of Cumberland, this is a luxury inn. Drinks are said to be served with crystal goblets alongside runes said to keep the beverage cold.

‘Dragon’s Den’– This is a walled off sector of town, adjacent to the more wealthy quarters of the city. It functions as a Dwarven trading hub and due to his most of the buildings are described to have distinctly Dwarven Architecture.

Forsythia Estate– This is the ancestral residence of the noble house Forsythia.

College of Magi– The college of Magi sits at the center of the city the Sun Dome’s golden exterior and massive spires making the city itself seem gilded and brilliant.  The palace itself was gifted to the Chantry by  a Nevarran Duchess. Keeping with the Nevvarran tradition of statues, the College of Magi is no different, the entryway featuring busts of ever Grand Enchanter from the last 600 years since this is the place from which they are chosen by a council of First Enchanters. The College of Magi is thought to bear the brightest mages and scholars throughout Thedas, some of which then move on to recruitment with the Mortalitasi.

Additional notes about historical events at the College of Magi [& some Dorian and Ashur lore]: In 9:38 following the Kirkwall Rebellion, the Chantry disbands meetings of the College of Enchanters [Based on context and what I am able to find, it seems the College of Enchaters is the name of the council of First Enchanters.], as well as any unsanctioned mage gatherings. This meant the dissolving of mage fraternities. This is also around the time that former Warden Fiona is elevated to the position of Grand Enchanter. [Wynne blames this as the reason the conclave was disbanded.] Grand Enchanter Fiona was quick to begin campaigning for independence, leading a vote among the College of Enchanters to secede from the Chantry entirely. Though the vote did not pass, the existence of the vote was enough for the Templar order to call for the dissolution of the College of Enchanters. More political unrest insues leading to Divine Justinia II calling for a meeting of the College of Enchanters, now disbanded, to the White Spire instead of their traditional seat in Cumberland. This lead to Grand Enchanter Fiona once again pleading for secession, causing High Seeker Lambert to declare the College of Enchanters treasonous. After a daring rescue of some of the enchanters, Fiona once again led a vote on succession in Cumberland. This time since too few first enchanters remained, some having died in capture, the fraternities casted their votes. This lead  ultimately to the dissolution of the circles and the movement towards mage freedom. The factions mentioned above include:

Aequitarians– This is the most dominant of the fraternities in the College of Magi. Their ideology is moderate, and thus popular. It is that mages must use their abilities ethically, and responsibly within society regardless of Chantry law. They believe mages have the power to help people, and should be doing so. Historically leaders of this group include Wynne & Rhys.

Isolationists– While less popular, this smaller faction simply believes mages should separate from the Chantry, and society as a whole. Creating their own systems and culture without any scrutiny towards the practice of magic or danger towards those without.

Libertarians– This group desires the Circle to become self governed and separate rom the chantry. While on the surface the Libertarians seek to do this peacefully, a subgroup of resolutionists within the faction have no issue usng violent means to achieve this. This group has been led historically by Fiona & Adrian.

Loyalists– As the name implies this group is the most devout, following the word of the Chantry. They are often viewed negatively by other mages for being apologists to the oppression faced by mages.

Lucrosians– the smallest fraternity amongst the College of Magi, these mages simply align themselves with the priority of gaining wealth, and political influence over any social cause.

In Veilguard we receive a conversation between Dorian Pavus and Ashur [who may or may not be Divine Aequitas II] in which Dorian comments, ‘Speaking of brash rebels, remember Cumberland? Spring of ‘38?’ to which Ashur replies ‘I wish I didn’t.’ This has had me so curious as to why they were present, were they part of the fraternities that helped vote against the circles since fraternities voted in the place of first enchanters? Or were they simply there as support to keep templars from intervening the College of Enchanters meeting. Either way. Super interesting additional lore on Dorian & Ashur. We know Dorian was part of the Lucerni [a faction dedicated to redeeming and restoring Tevinter] but that is a group exclusive to the Magistirium and not one of the fraternities of the College of Magi. In fact it is more than likely closer tied to the Shadow Dragons. [If you want a less summarized version of 9:38 Dragon, most of the information comes from Dragon Age: Asunder.]

Thank you all for the kind words on my first lore post. In this next section I tried to break down several key locations. If there are ones you'd like to see that I did not explore please let me know! If there is anything I missed or got incorrect, I am open to corrections! Additionally I would love any additional descriptions or information about the sections of the Necropolis, information is scarce, so any additional notes are welcomed. For more posts on this topic, they will be marked on my page under the tag Nevarran lore.

I hope for this to be a resource for fic writers but also knowledge for my fellow lore nerds. More will be posted soon as feel sections become complete.

Update Edits: More insight on the shifting chambers of the Necropolis, and additional lore on the Basalt Hypogeum. Info on the Sunken Star.

Thank you guys for the feedback <3

[mountkennedie]

Late Nights

Edward Cullen x reader

Summary: you have a cozy night with edward

warnings: none

A.N. this quickly became one of my favorite fics ever written

"Edward?" You asked. Currently you splayed out horizontally on your bed on a cool fall day. The sweater you were wearing provided you an extra dose of comfort to the general energy of the room. Edward, your boyfriend, was laid parallel to you. His dark blue sweater matched yours. The color coordinating plaid fleece pajamas were also a nice touch on the pair of you. It was something cute you've always wanted to do, couple twinning. And Edward was willing to do whatever to make you happy.

"Yes?" He maintained a easy going smile while looking at you. You had been rereading A Wrinkle In Time. An easy read of course, but always put your mind at peace. Edward didn't have a book to read or really anything to pass time. He says he is perfectly content in your company, but you still wonder what he would be doing had you not been here. Probably pressing those same piano keys in infinite rhythms until disturbed.

"What is your favorite color?" A very innocent question. But what is the harm in that? The both of you have shared some crushing memories and experiences, you may as well know the mundane as well.

His smile grew and his eyebrows knitted. "Blue. Why do you ask?" He didn't have a genuine serious undertone behind the question. He was always trying to learn the way you were. Being unable to read your mind made you a puzzle he reveled in attempting to crack. Every time he would expect you to act in a certain way, you gave him a surprise in return.

"I was curious," you turn on your side and face him. Edward being Edward, he mirrors you. "You seem like a lover of blue. But I could also see a deep green. Like forest green," your voice was kept quiet. The wind looting the leaves can still be heard as you speak. You didn't need to speak so soft, your family was away for the night. You could scream for all that mattered, however keeping a small vocal presence felt appropriate. Anything louder than a calm word would be disturbing the peace of the environment.

His face pinched up for a moment, but then returned to his normal expression. "I fell out of love for green a long while ago. Blue is so rarely seen here, at least in the sky," he finished that quip with a cheesy smile. "Blue being rare has given itself a new place of importance," his eyes glanced down to your sweater then back into you, "in my heart."

Your bodies both hanged off different ends of the bed, luckily your heads were in the same placement. So when you lifted your hand to rest on his cheek, it wasn't a far reach. Your thumb brushed the cool skin, Edwards eyes never left yours for a moment. The golden iris' were filled with adoration. His hand came to rest on yours. The chill adding to the comfort he was already bestowing.

"What do you think mine is?" You whispered.

"Purple, for sure," he answered without even thinking. And of course he was right.

"Asking Alice counts as cheating," he leaned into your hand and chuckled. The kiss he left on the palm made you smile a little harder than you already had been.

"I didn't cheat," he spoke into your hand. "Everywhere we go shopping, your eyes are drawn to the same three colors. Green, black and purple, with a special affinity for purple. Oh and you wear a lot of purple in the pictures of you on your family's mantle."

"Am I that easy to read?" He pressed another kiss to your palm. He shook his head lightly at your comment.

"If only," he joked. After his joke the wind picked up outside, this time accompanied by a steady flow of rain. You sat up and looked at him, he copied you once again.

"If you ran home fast enough, how wet would you be? Would you even get wet?" He listened to your questions while helping fix your hair that had flattened due to laying down.

"Well I would get wet regardless. Probably not too bad but definitely damp." He finished his work and pulled you close to him so your entire body faced him. "And is this your way of kicking me out?" He chuckled again at his smart remark.

"It is very thoughtful that you worry on the safety of a hundred year old vampire." He placed a kiss to your eyelid, "I'd be sure not to run too fast. And I am fully comfortable staying in for the night. But," his voice matched your previous tone, "you must sleep tonight. I want 8 full hours."

"No you are staying." You threw your arms over his shoulders, your faces a few inches apart. "I don't want you outside, especially running in this weather. The roads are slippery," your tone changed to one more serious.

"I was going to sleep!" you argued. "...once I finished the next chapter of my book," you hoped the small smile you sent him would win him over.

"Of the book you've reread numerous times?" You didn't respond, only looked at him and shrugged. "Fine," he always gave in to you. "At least let me read it to you."

You smiled and got comfortable under your covers. You pulled back your comforter for him to join you underneath. He smiled and shook his head. But still wanting to do whatever makes you happy, climbed in. You clung onto his arm, he responded by kissing your head. You were convinced he read the book in a soft, quiet voice on purpose. Because no matter how strong your will to finish the chapter, you still were whisked away into sleep.

[endursent]

Imagining for my parter turned into a cat. Imagine reader being a very popular kitty among the cat society and get mating offers from other kitties how would the guys react? I think Jelly jelly Jing yuan for sure, silent anger stare from Dan heng and pouty pouty Aven.

【 content; established relationship , humour , some jealousy/possessiveness...? , gn!reader , temporarily turned cat (reader) 】

【 characters; aventurine , dan heng , jing yuan 】

【 note; this got a bit out of hand. thank you for the ask! love these little goobers... 】

【 word count; 2.827 | masterlist 】

Jing Yuan;

As much as you enjoy being pampered and cuddled by your dear Jing Yuan… it’s much too hot to be engulfed by his practically radiating body today. The weather systems of the Luofu have been slowly shifting into simulating the warmth of summer, and it seems whoever is in charge of maintenance forgot to input a maximum temperature, because no way this was intentional. 

  It’s humid, hot, and you want to find a little pond to lie down beside—worst case scenario, you hang out in the Fyxestroll Gardens. They’re always cool and nice, cloudy and spooky enough to chase people away from crowding it on warmer days. 

  Trotting down the connecting paths between the Exalted Sanctum and the nearest transport station, your ears flick curiously as you hear footsteps in tune with yours, with only mild delay. Raising your gaze, you see a small white and brown coloured cat on top of the large partition walls separating markets from the pathways. It stops when you do and sits down, tail swaying almost excitedly.

  You’re not entirely sure what it wants, but you have a starskiff to catch! You start walking again and pick up your speed until the other cat runs out of walls to run along and follow you.

  It doesn’t become an isolated incident either, you were trying to get some grilled fish from a stall you often visit in your normal form. Using your best kitty eyes and rubbing along old Wan’s legs to try and get some leftovers (not that Jing Yuan doesn’t feed you, but you REALLY want this specifically made fish), the old stall-owner gives in and gives you some small pieces, though raw—better for your current form, not your preference in texture, but you’ll take it. 

  Unfortunately, as you’re carrying your prize along to return to the Seat of Divine Foresight, a white-furred cat joins you on the street—immediately rubbing its body along yours as it’s tail sways happily and finds yours. 

  Now, you just assume this guy wants your fish. This is YOUR fish. 

  Hissing and kicking their side with your hind leg, you shoot off to protect your loot and hurry to the Cloud Knight that guards the way to the Seat. 

  The third time, you’re sitting and watching Jing Yuan play chess against Yanqing yet again, usually you would be busy at your own job at this time, but given your predicament… you get to hang around. You whacked a piece off the board once, and now you’re a confined prisoner on Jing Yuan’s lap. 

  After dozing off for a while—ironically on the dozing general’s lap—you wake up to see Jing Yuan scooping a cat up and moving it away. Where did that come from??

  As you had been sleeping, two cats had come into the gardens, which isn’t too unusual, the ponds and thick trees are perfect napping spots and no one minds having cats around to pet and feed. Though they hadn’t come to nap or beg for treats, they had hopped over to Jing Yuan and tried to squeeze their little heads between his arms to poke their noses at you or sniff at your fur. 

  Not wanting to wake you, Jing Yuan had scooped them up with one hand and deposited them behind him, but they kept coming back. He frowns slightly as your large eyes blink open, awakened from your cozy nap. “Are you hiding anything under yourself?” he wonders, perhaps the cats are smelling some food from you. But no, you’re empty handed(pawed?) and confused. 

  As Jing Yuan seemed occupied dragging the cats away from you and hadn’t made his turn in several minutes, Yanqing leaned back. Looks like he’ll just have to wait until this is resolved. 

  You stand up on Jing Yuan’s thighs and shake yourself, poking your head out over his forearm to meet noses with one of the cats. Maybe they just need to say hi and they’ll leave.

  That is, until you look to the left and are met with a raised rear from the other cat right in front of your face. 

  Jing Yuan laughs at the sight of your eyes bulging in surprise and quickly snapping your head back from sniffing at the other cats. He cradles you in his arms and rubs his large hand over your tummy. “Seems like my little kitty has been presented to, have you been followed around like this recently? “ Jing Yuan smiles and pinches your paw gently. “Why didn’t you tell me? I could have protected you from this terrible harassment~” 

  You wouldn’t really call it that, you thought one had just been curious, another had been trying to steal your fish—and then there was that one time a cat had tried to bite the back of your neck, but you thought he was just trying to pick a fight. 

  Maybe not actually being a cat made their intentions fly over your head. 

  Standing up and disregarding his game with Yanqing—who shot to his feet and protested—Jing Yuan carried you back inside the Sea of Divine Foresight, gently shooing the following cats out of the doorway with his foot before settling down on a soft divan by a wall. “There, now I’ve got you all to myself,” he says, scratching behind your ear to have you lean into his hand for more. You're just too cute, how can he let others fawn over you when it should be him that showers you with affection? After all, he knows you best, and he knows the best spots to scratch and comb through where you can't reach. “Even like this, you’re irresistible? Perhaps I should put a cute collar on you with my smell and name on it.”

  You sneeze as his hand brushes over your whiskers, you peer up at him—you have a feeling that he wouldn’t stop there, Jing Yuan would gift you a human sized one when you’re back to normal too! 

Dan Heng;

He doesn’t particularly like the idea of bringing you off the Express while you’re like this—mostly concerned that you’ll get lost or distracted and then get lost. What if you get hit by a car?? You don’t have any vets on the Express. 

  It’s in his nature to overthink about these things, and to be worried for your safety. You’re just… so small like this, practically without any tools to protect yourself, and cute enough that someone might try to yoink you off the street for their own. 

  Regardless, he’s been convinced to take you with him. By a combination of your big kitten eyes, and March’s attempt at mimicking it for double the effect—it was unsettling enough that it halved the progress your pleading made, but half is enough when it’s you. 

  He does however, not expect you to be bringing a hoard of other cats behind you after wandering off for a few minutes. 

  Dan Heng blinks at you as you run to him and practically throw yourself onto his pant leg, scrambling up his clothes like a squirrel fleeing from a bear, with about seven cats behind you. 

  He puts his hands under you to hold you after you make it up to his chest and nearly stumbles back as they try to rise on their hind legs to sniff at you. What the hell did you do for this to happen?? Thankfully, Dan Heng expertly navigates past the army of curious cats and escapes the situation with you in his arms. 

  Not the first and likely not the last time he has to rescue you from a situation you yourself created.

  Thankfully, you behave yourself for the remainder of the day and there’s no further incident… Dan Heng relaxes slightly—until he spots you sitting idly on a bench on the side of the streets where you, Dan Heng, March and Himeko had been looking at an expansive market. He looks away, you look rather content sitting there and observing the crowds for now. 

  When he looks back, there’s another cat there. Do you just emit “come bother me” scents for other cats? He doesn’t smell anything strange from you at all… but then again, he’s not a cat. 

  Dan Heng doesn’t get immediately alarmed… maybe it’s just a cat saying hello, that’s not very unusual for them to do… he thinks…? Ever since you turned into a cat, he’s had to confront the fact that he doesn’t, in fact, know much about cats. 

  He side-eyes the interaction for a while until Himeko asks for his attention on something, and he turns away for only a split second. When he looks towards you again after about two minutes at most… you’re loafing on the bench, and the other cat is licking and grooming your fur in spots you can’t reach properly. 

  Now, seeing two cats sitting around and grooming each other can be quite cute, he’s seen videos of it before…

  But this isn’t just some cats? One of them is his partner! He feels something prickle at the back of his mind, and though he tries to hold his instincts back whenever they rise—he purred once on accident when you were stroking his hair before bed and never let his guard down since—Dan Heng can’t help it when he turns around and crosses the street. 

  You blink up at him, half-asleep from the warmth of the market and the thorough cleaning from this very friendly cat. You hadn’t even noticed the other cat’s tail was entwined with yours. 

  Rather rudely, but not aggressively, Dan Heng pushes the other cat away from you, its body just sliding a bit to the right. He then picks you up and gives the offending cat a sharp look before turning away and taking you to the rest of the group.

  You were confined to being “bag carried” for the rest of the mission, where Dan Heng literally put you in a bag where only your head stuck up out of it, and carried you around like that. Mostly because his arms would get too tired of holding you normally, and you could snooze easily if you wanted to. 

  You open your eyes to find the familiar ceiling of the Express’ archive room, and Dan Heng setting the bag aside. You stretch, limbs reaching into the air. Dan Heng stares and a small smile lifts the corner of his lips, he takes your front paws with separate hands and holds them up where you were stretching them. “Cute… though I do prefer you as normal, I hope to hold your hands again soon.”

Aventurine;

Seeing that the progress of getting you back to normal was taking far longer than he anticipated, Aventurine made it a habit to take you along. He would often at the start leave you at home over most of the day and only bring you around if he was going to be in his office… but concerned you would either die of boredom or scratch the furniture in frustration until there was nothing left, he had you along with him.

  Aventurine works a lot—too much, you would sometimes say. If he’s not carrying out missions or doing more lengthy business with select companies or operations, he is attending meetings, answering messages or other things. 

  Mostly, he travels between indebted worlds.

  And you DESPISE the transportation method. 

  Touching down on solid ground is heavenly, you hop out of his arms and lay down flat. It’s not so bad in human form, but like this? Sucks. Terrible. You hate it. 

  Aventurine only laughs and scoops you up again. “I’ve got places to be today, how about you go explore for a while? Report to me the details when you’re done,” he jokes and rubs your cheek with his thumb, making you blink a few times as his finger comes so close to your eyes. “Just don’t go too far, hm? Meet me back here for dinner.”

  With that, he leans down and gives your furry head a good smooch and sets you down again. You shake yourself and look up at him… Aventurine stares down at you. You’re both waiting for the other to leave first.

  After a brief standstill, you’re the first to break the eye-contact and turn to trot away. New world and city to explore—and doing it from the perspective of a cat is surprisingly easy and fun, though you do sometimes get chased away by old ladies with brooms. 

  There’s a surprisingly large cat population in this city, despite the high rise buildings and gloomy scenery they also all seem well fed, perhaps it’s a very friendly place? Or perhaps they’re all house-cats having some fresh air. 

  You approach one to greet, you’ve become rather adept at recognising whether a cat is a stray or just an outside-cat. The cats of Pier Point are friendly in the upper districts, but get rather suspicious and territorial in the lower ones… which is rather understandable, you suppose.

  The cat you walk up to and greet has entirely black fur and bright yellow eyes, they almost blended into the alleyway you spotted them in but had very approachable body language, sitting and licking their paw lazily. 

  As you hop onto the dumpster they sit on, the cat looks up and walks over, poking noses with you as you sniff each other—you mostly do it for politeness’ sake, you can’t entirely discern what each scent means… you can smell it, but you don’t have the mind of a cat to understand what it’s supposed to indicate. 

  You do smell a lot of wet cat coming from this one though. No wonder it was bathing itself.

  After it got a bit too busy sniffing around your tail, it thankfully pulled back when you whacked them away… for now. After doing some more exploring, you found that more and more cats were poking their heads out to greet you—fine enough, but they kept following you around. 

  Even after meeting up with Aventurine again and meowing at him in varying tones, and him nodding along as if he could understand you perfectly… they still kept coming around. Finding a restaurant that Aventurine was satisfied with AND allowed cats isn’t easy picking, but he did eventually pick one and plop you down opposite of him on the chair. 

  Never fails to amuse him to look at you from across a dining or restaurant table where you’re poking your head above the edge of it to peer up at the plates. Aventurine leans on his palm, chin resting on it calmly as he reads from the menu. You meow repeatedly until he takes one tone as more affirmative than the others and figures that’s the dish you wanted… whether it's cat safe, well, he’ll just eat the non-safe things off your plate. You won’t complain… much. 

  While waiting for your food, Aventurine shows you something on his phone—not only is he sitting across from a cat in a restaurant as if he were on a date with it, but also showing it his phone—but you get distracted when the plates arrive. Thankfully the waiter had relayed it to the kitchen that there was an actual cat going to eat this deliciously made plate of shrimps, and it seems they either humoured him, or fully believed him.

  Either way, you have shrimp!

  While you lick at the plate and gobble down the seafood, you don’t even notice another cat hopping up into the chair next to you—not until it tries to steal some of your food. You hiss and swat at them to get them away, but it doesn’t deter them much. 

  Aventurine swallows his bite and sighs. “My date is being encroached on, you wouldn’t dare leave with another, darling?” his dramatics only makes your frustration with the other cat trying to bite at the back of your neck rise. How about he stop whining and help you?! 

  Your protesting, communicated in a series of aggrieved meows, goes unattended for a while until he hums. “I suppose I must rescue my date from this interloper,” Aventurine says. You think he’s being a bit dramatic with his wording, but once he picks up the offending cat by the scruff of his neck and shoos him away, you are relieved to be at peace with your shrimp again.

  He squats down by the chair you sit in and rubs your head, a smile touching his expression as your eyes close. “There, better? I’ll be sure to keep all these curious cats away from you.” though it was rather amusing to watch you hiss and whack away, he would rather avoid a situation where you're uncomfortable—especially in a form and state where you can hardly express that discomfort and advocate for yourself. Aventurine much rather prefers to have you for himself.

  You nuzzle your head into his palm, a small rumbling purr leaving your chest. Better. 

[nicksolemnlyswears]

CAPABLE HANDS

summary: marcus acacius is tired of his hands only bringing pain and destruction

pairing: marcus acacius x wife!reader

word count: 2.2k

warnings: i don’t think there’s any warning on this one guys. i kept it very pg-13. there’s like one mention of sex but blink and you’ll miss it.

a/n: hello everybody!! so my great friend kiwi ( @yxtkiwiyxt ), aka the biggest javi fan ever, created the 'never have i ever' challenge for the pedro pascal fandom way back in january and i decided to give it a little try. it's such a fun challenge, so if you're a fan of pedro pascal's characters hop on over to her blog and you'll be fed for a while.

in true nikki fashion, i'm very late but she thankfully extended it.

as you can probably tell i got marcus acacius because that man is just straight out of my fantasies and my prompt was 'never have i ever built something with my own hands'.

this came to me so fast. the moment she gave me the prompt i just knew! that being said it did take me like one month too long to finish it (again bad nikki habits).

my sincerest apologies empress kiwi ���� hopefully this is to your liking.

enjoy 🤍

His hands were made for war—for fighting, for holding a sword and not letting go until his arms felt like lead and the enemy was taken care of.

They're full of callouses and wounds that'll never heal. Scars that remind him of the person he is. General Marcus Acacius.

Despite the current leadership, he loved serving Rome. He was indebted to Rome. It is his home, and it forever will be.

He was proud of his achievements. He's come farther than he ever imagined, yet as the years go by, he can't help but feel that seed of guilt in the root of his stomach sprout bigger with each passing battle.

There comes a point where he cannot justify the cruelty and viciousness with which they fight.

They tear families apart, kill brave men defending their own homes, burn villages to the ground, and loot in the name of Rome.

For what?

More power, more riches, more glory—all while the country grows impoverished and hunger takes its claim on those less fortunate.

He yearns to return to glorious Rome. Beautiful Rome with marble pillars and vivid sceneries. The place where his lovely wife, you, waits for him after each conquest.

General Acacius yearns to forget.

You're the one who reminds him his hands are capable of more. They are gentle when he holds you. When he grabs onto your hips until you're spilling over him.

They're the ones you hold as you stroll in the gardens. Or when you insist on heading to the market despite your status.

They are soft, patient, encouraging.

His hands that tuck your hair behind your ear when a rebellious curly strand tickles your face.

And yet he always falls into that deep despair. Nights when he can't sleep, thinking of all the damage he's done to innocent people. He did it willingly at one point, chasing that infamous glory where Gladiator games would be held in his honor upon returning to battle.

Now, that glory mocks him. It's a mirage in the desert. Beautiful from afar but bitter up close.

He's selfish. Marcus Acacius could stop, but it would mean his death. He can deal with death, but he will not be the cause of yours.

So, as he untangles himself from your arms, Marcus goes outside to sit and watch over the city, vigilant. He remembers the market and the artisans building beautiful things with their hands—hands calloused and scarred from their skill, not weapons and death.

They say life mimics art.

He wishes to use his hands for more than striking. He wants to see his hands as more capable like you do.

His greatest skill, besides being a swordsman, is being observant. What makes General Acacius great is the way he's able to analyze a situation and strike at the weakest point. The next time you drag him to the market, he watches over the artisans, the tools they use, and their creations.

"Is anything the matter, husband?" You ask, grasping his arm. You don't miss the way he stares at the knife in the artisan's hand, and you worry.

Your husband doesn't like it much when you come to the market. He doesn't believe it to be entirely safe for a woman of your standing. Still, your beloved Marcus spoils you and lets you come. Accompanied by him, of course, and guards when he is not able to join you.

His focus shifts from the skillful shaping of the block of wood to you. He softly smiles, pressing his hand upon yours. "Are you ready?"

You nod with a smile, chattering about the fresh fruit you picked and the pastries you'll ask the cooks to bake for you. Woefully unaware of your husband's purchases.

That same night, when the same old nightmare wakes him, Marcus untangles himself from your limbs and sneaks away to a bench in the gardens. Under the stars, he looks at the block of wood in his left hand and the sculpting knife in his right.

As the knife starts to chip away at the wood, the more he distracts his mind from his duty as a General. In a way, he turns mindless, focusing on the rough edges and the splinters, successfully filling his hands with new creative wounds.

At first, you're blissfully unaware since Marcus always returns to your side before you wake. Then, wooden figures start being placed by your bedside, with rough initials scratched on the bottom.

Your dear husband never cared to mention his new hobby or the fact he was gifting you his work. It was unspoken. You cherish each one of his small sculptures, saving them and leaving them on display.

With each one, he only got better and better. Pride swelled on your chest as you witnessed his artistry grow.

It is refreshing to see him work through his worry with art instead of violence. You, more than anyone, know what ails him when he returns home fresh with new wounds.

There is no war raging around him, yet it remains in his mind. The Gladiator games do not entertain him as they do the rest of the Romans. He's forced to sit and watch the strongest prisoners fight all over again, killing what remains of his conquests.

His reluctance to go to the markets fades away. Marcus Acacius joins you a bit too eagerly, looking for a moment to observe the artisans and the skills they implement.

You take your time, inspecting each fruit and vegetable you have in your hands. Simply to give him more time.

The more he joins you, the more they notice him watching. A quiet, old artisan going as far as beckoning Marcus to come closer and ask the questions on the tip of his tongue.

"Are you ready?" You ask when there is no more to do, joining his side.

"If you are done, yes," he says aloof, leaving coin to the artisan who taught him a few things.

You smile, resisting the urge to giggle. Your big, strong husband avoids talking about what he finds enjoyable.

Warriors are not often seen as artists.

One night, you wake and find him missing from the bed. His spot is cold and empty; he's been gone a while. Unable to sleep, knowing he is awake, you search for him, a shawl wrapped around your shoulders to avoid the chill of the night.

A torch is lit in the garden, and you follow it like a moth to a flame. That's where your husband sits on a bench, knife in hand, and wood scrapings littering the trimmed grass.

"I was wondering where you found the time," you say, shuffling closer and sitting beside him. Shoulders brushing comfortably.

Marcus' head turns towards you, red dusting his tanned cheeks. "I can't sleep," he admits.

"Is it the nightmares?"

He nods, carving smaller details onto the wood, giving it a recognizable shape. His hands have new calluses from gripping the wood and the knife's differently shaped handle.

"You've become quite the woodcarver," you say, changing the subject he does not like talking about.

You won't push him. He has enough in his mind. You're thankful he's not like the other Generals who find distractions at the brothels.

"I've got a long way to go," he responds, turning the wood figure in his hands to assess it.

"Not tonight, though," you tell him, placing your hand over his. "You must join me in bed. It's far too cold without you."

Marcus Acacius softly smiles at you, nodding before placing the wooden figure and knife down. "Whatever my lady wife says."

This small habit of leaving the bed in the middle of the night does not cease. His hands itch to do something, to create, and he listens.

In the end, you're happy if he's happy. You let him be, sometimes dragging him back to bed when you need him most.

At times, you join him, curling next to him, eyes drooping but refusing to leave him. The movement of his hard muscles lulls you to sleep as he works at shaping the pieces of wood.

"There are far more comfortable places to rest, my wife," Marcus says, the low timbre of his voice rousing you from the sleep that threatens to take you under.

"The best place to be is by my husband's side," you sigh, getting more comfortable and ignoring his request. "If you wish me abed, you have to be there."

The time comes when the emperor twins become restless and order him to conquer in their stead. It is time to sully his hands once more with the blood of warriors protecting their home.

With one last wooden figure placed beside your bed and a kiss on your head, he leaves fearfully, wondering if this would be the one time he won't return.

You clutch the figure day in and day out, afraid if you let it out of your sight, bad news will arrive. You press your lips against the smooth surface when you miss him most, bringing it to your chest as if you could feel him close by the simple action.

In his absence, you learn you have been blessed by the gods and are expecting a child. More than ever, do you wish for your husband's safe return.

Many months after his departure, news of the battalion's return spread across Rome in a matter of hours. Your lady-in-waiting heard it from the servants who had gone to the market earlier in the day.

"My lady, your General has returned," she whispers excitedly, helping you get ready for the day.

"Are you sure?" You gasp, clutching your rounded belly in anticipation. Many months have gone by, and you did not think he'd make it for the birth.

The fact that no soldiers come to your door is reassuring. Your husband may be injured but not dead, and that is enough.

"He's been sighted joining the Emperors."

He comes like a breeze in the night, quiet and stealthy. With no need of unnecessary fanfare, he only wished to see you.

Marcus Acacius needed your reassurance once more. That his hands were not to be stained permanently.

He finds you by the fountain, looking as beautiful as ever. Hair curled and loose, front strands pulled back but with that stubborn fringe that refused to be held back. Such a reflection of your being.

A cloak hung around your shoulders, hiding your most precious treasure unbeknownst to him.

"My lady," he calls out, standing a few feet from you.

You look up from the pond of swimming fish, eyes round with surprise and excitement. "Marcus Acacius," you gasp.

He's back home. New scars, healed and unhealed, litter his tanned skin. His hair longer, pushed away from his eyes. He is safe, and he is sound.

You stand to approach him and greet him properly. Your feet drive you forward, and the movement pushes the cloak back, exposing your round belly.

He's always been so observant. It would be hard to miss.

Your arms curl around his neck, bringing him into an embrace. You thank the gods above for his safe return.

Acacius is frozen as his mind catches up with what he's seen. Such a reaction would get him killed in battle. You cup his face while pulling back, "Husband?" The tickle from the scruff on his cheeks is a comfort.

He's not in battle. Marcus is home with you.

His palms softly come to your belly. He's gentle, extremely so. "You're with child?"

"Yes," you say breathlessly, awaiting his reaction.

"You're carrying our child?" His voice is thick with emotion. Unshed tears fill his eyes as Marcus kneels on the ground, palms feeling the soft kick of his unborn child.

He only ever wished to have children with you so they'd take after their mother. It's been in the back of both of your minds, but his role as a General often took precedence.

"I only found out once you left," you confess, placing your hands over his. "Are you happy?"

"This is the happiest I've ever been," he says, standing to finally place his lips upon yours. There's a grunt in the back of his throat as he pulls you close or as close as your belly would permit. "You've made me the happiest man in the world, my wife."

General Marcus Acacius has a new purpose in life. He is becoming a father of a baby boy or baby girl. Nonetheless, he wishes to leave war far behind.

He needs to be in Rome to watch them grow and become noble people. He does not want to leave for months or years at a time, and he does not want them to see him in deep despair when he returns from such physical and mental battles.

Whenever he returns from war, the nightmares become more vivid, keeping him awake. His hands itch to create and to distract his busy brain.

This time, it is no exception.

Untangling himself from your tight hold, Marcus Acacius walks to the gardens. Picking up his woodcarving tools along the way. His hands itch for a new project, and what better project than building his child's crib.

sorry it wasn't very romancy, i really focused on general marcus acacius inner turmoil, don't we love a troubled man?

[delilahsturniolo]

⟡ ݁₊ welcome to the end of the world! (please leave your sanity at the door.)

𝒊𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉 . . . four friends: nick, matt, chris, and you—find themselves stuck together at the end of the world, trying to survive a zombie apocalypse with nothing but their wits, a questionable supply of snacks, and zero emotional maturity. you’re just trying to stay alive without losing your mind—or falling for someone on the team.

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 . . . violence, mentions of weapons, cursing, romantic tension, slow burn.

CHAPTER TWO: BEAN COVERED ZOMBIES

read more parts here

you’ve seen some weird stuff since the world went sideways—zombies in bathrobes, a guy trying to trade a bag of toenail clippers for beef jerky, chris wearing a traffic cone as a hat for two full days—but nothing quite prepared you for the chaos that was today.

the four of you are huddled behind a tipped-over dumpster outside what used to be a convenience store. it smells like melted slushie, wet cardboard, and regret. chris is holding lieutenant whiskers like he’s a sacred relic. matt is peeking around the side of the dumpster, gripping his crowbar like it’s about to audition for america’s got talent. nick is furiously scribbling something on his clipboard even though you’re currently under attack.

“how are you writing right now?” you whisper-shout.

“documentation is essential,” nick hisses. “if we don’t track patterns, how will we optimize our future looting runs?”

“we’re literally hiding behind trash while zombies sniff the air for our brains,” you say. “read the room.”

“ooo! write that down,” chris adds helpfully. “that was a good line.”

you risk a peek around the dumpster. three zombies. slow ones, thank god, but still enough to ruin your day (and your limbs). one of them is wearing a cheerleader uniform. you don’t know why that makes it worse, but it does. you were never a cheerleader. too much enthusiasm. not enough sarcasm.

“we can take them,” matt says, eyes flicking between the group.

“we as in all of us, or we as in you beat the undead to a pulp while we awkwardly flail and yell things like ‘nice swing’ and ‘watch out for the one with half a jaw’?” you ask. he looks at you, that tiny smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “flailing’s part of the plan.”

your heart does that annoying flutter again. it’s fine. you’re just sleep-deprived. and possibly emotionally compromised. definitely not because matt keeps looking at you like you’re not just a liability with decent knife skills.

“okay,” nick says, “here’s the plan—”

before he can finish, chris stands up, hurls a can of beans directly at a zombie’s head. typical chris. the can makes impact with a loud thunk. the zombie stumbles, wobbles, and then goes down. the other two immediately groan and start dragging their crusty bodies in your direction.

“you absolute menace.” nick hisses.

“that was kind of impressive.” you admit.

“it was a precision strike,” chris says proudly, cradling lieutenant whiskers like a proud parent. “he’ll learn this technique when he’s older.”

matt doesn’t waste time. he moves like a storm—fast, focused, and slightly terrifying. his crowbar meets zombie skull with a crunch that makes your stomach lurch, but also maybe… swoon a little? okay, gross. focus.

you dive in to help, blade in hand, and together you take out the last one with minimal screaming and only one scraped elbow (yours, naturally). when it’s over, you’re panting, hands shaking a little, adrenaline buzzing through your veins like cheap coffee.

“we’re alive,” you breathe.

“of course we are,” matt says, brushing zombie gunk off your shoulder. “you did good.”

it’s two words. you did good. but coming from him? it feels like a poem. or a confession. you didn’t know, but it felt amazing.

“uh… thanks,” you say, trying not to smile like an idiot. you fail. just a little.

you all shuffle into the store, stepping over the fallen, bean-covered zombie. inside, the air smells like stale chips and apocalypse. shelves are mostly empty, but you find a few cans of soup, a bag of marshmallows, and—miraculously—two rolls of toilet paper. nick looks like he might cry.

“this is the most beautiful thing i’ve seen in weeks,” he says, clutching the toilet paper like it’s made of gold. matt tosses you a bottle of water from behind the counter. “you okay?” he asks, voice low, casual.

“yeah. you?”

he nods. “you’re getting better with that knife.”

you shrug. “guess i’ve had a good teacher.”

he looks at you for a beat longer than necessary. “you’re easy to teach.”

your cheeks feel warm. definitely the post-fight adrenaline. definitely not that look. god, why does the apocalypse have to come with feelings? nick interrupts your spiraling with a triumphant, “we’re done here. let’s go before chris tries to tame a raccoon or starts a cult.”

“i’d be a great cult leader,” chris says, stuffing marshmallows into his hoodie pocket.

you head back toward your makeshift base as the sun begins to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows on broken streets. your group walks in that familiar, weirdly comforting formation—nick mumbling to himself about inventory, chris humming the jurassic park theme song, matt walking quietly beside you, close enough that your arms occasionally brush.

maybe the world ended. maybe everything is broken. but you’ve got food, friends, and feelings you’re not ready to name. and, apparently, a cat named lieutenant whiskers. so yeah. not a bad day, all things considered, except maybe for the zombie that’s now following you from two blocks away.

but that’s definitely a tomorrow problem.

© delilahsturniolo

[imsobadatnicknames2]

Something itneresting happened in dwarf fortress adventure mode.

So, my party stayed at a town called Bearknight. They stayed for at a local tavern for one night, then explored the catacombs under the local temple, got some loot there, and left the town.

When they came back a few days later, the town was completely in ruins.

After my party died, I decided to check legends mode. Turns out while in the catacombs they unknowingly disturbed and awakened the mummy of an ancient priest buried there (no idea why it didn't attack them right away or even announce itself like mummies usually do)

The mummy immediately went on to form a gang and declare itself ringleader.

There is very little information about the gang's activities, other than they almost immediately were attacked by an elven civilization.

So my current theory is that while my party was away the mummy's gang took over the town, and either destroyed it, or tried to govern it only for it to be destroyed by the elven civilization's attack.

[emmg]

Emmrich is 19 and clinging to life by a single, fraying thread because the Mourn Watch thinks he should be able to recite undead tax law backwards while sleep-deprived and actively on fire to pass their final exams.

“Have you tried eating the dean’s ass?” Johanna suggests, unbothered, because she is brilliant, untouchable, and also fundamentally does not give a shit. The Mourn Watch is a bunch of whiny corpse babysitters who should be begging to touch her holy left toe. She’s getting in.

Emmrich frowns. Then he stress cries into his pillow because what if she’s right? What if there really aren’t enough hours in the day to absorb 400 years of undead jurisprudence and necromantic rituals?? What if eating the dean’s ass really is the only way to get in???

“Here, chucklefuck,” Johanna says, dumping a heaping platter of coke in front of him.

Emmrich gawks. He is a good boy. He does not cheat. He does not do illicit substances.

He also desperately wants to be a Watcher.

One (1) snort couldn’t hurt, right?

Spoiler: it hurts.

Johanna starts taking notes because Emmrich is fucking disintegrating in real time. His hair is greying from stress, lack of sleep, and possibly the unholy amount of  crack fucking cocaine currently pickling his soul. This is hilarious to her. She joins in.

“I wanna build a huge skeleton,” Johanna announces mid-line, eyes fully dilated like she just glimpsed the face of the Maker.

“I want to find the love of my life,” Emmrich sobs, dropping his portion onto a skeleton’s pelvis.

Doesn’t matter. He’s already committed to this downward spiral. He snorts it off the pubic bone.

Some dipshit cultists are trying to loot the deeper levels of the Necropolis, which is a really bad fucking idea. This is a problem.

Emmrich has not slept in three days.

So he raises the same dead guy 17 times to yell at him.

“PLEASE just let me fucking die,” the cultist begs.

“Not before you scrub every toilet in the necropolis with your ghostly tongue,” Emmrich says, wagging his finger and tsk-tsk-tsking.

Eventually, a formal complaint is filed against him for “unethically harassing the dead” because he keeps waking up long-buried married couples to demand dating advice through his corpse whispering.

Years later, Rook brings a brick of coke to the Lighthouse.

“Oh no,” Emmrich whispers, as PTSD from his academically sanctioned drug-bender days slaps him in the face.

He should say no. He should act like a normal, respectable 52-year-old professor who has left that life behind.

But he loves Rook. He loves Rook so, so much.

And what if Rook thinks he’s lame now? What if she looks at him and sees some washed-up old nerd who can’t even do one little bump of coke like the cool kids?

One (1) line can’t hurt, right?

Spoiler: it hurts.

Immediately, this well-respected academic finds himself in a full-blown, vein-popping screaming match with some random ghostly asshole that wandered into the Lighthouse.

“Hehe,” sneers the Spirit of Bullshittery, “you’re ugly.”

“I TAKE EXQUISITE CARE OF MY APPEARANCE, YOU SEMI-CORPOREAL VULGAR TROGLODYTE,” Emmrich screeches, his voice hitting a frequency that could shatter glass and summon distant, confused seagulls. “BEAUTY IS SUBJECTIVE AND STANDARDS HAVE CHANGED THROUGHOUT THE CENTURIES—IN THE BLESSED AGE, I WOULD HAVE BEEN A—”

Rook, watching this clusterfuck unfold, comes to a rational, reasonable adult decision:

She shoves his dick in her mouth. Maybe if he’s busy getting sucked off, he’ll finally shut the fuck up. Emmrich is so overcome he asks her to marry him mid-suck.

Coke is banned from the Lighthouse.

[blueiscoool]

Ancient Painted Tomb Found in Etruscan Necropolis

Archaeologists have uncovered a remarkable painted tomb at the Monterozzi Etruscan Necropolis, located east of Tarquinia in Lazio, Italy. Though initially discovered in late 2022, the find was only recently announced by the Superintendence of Viterbo, revealing a burial chamber adorned with well-preserved wall frescoes.

A HIDDEN TREASURE REVEALED

The tomb, now officially recorded as Tomb 6438, was discovered during an inspection of previously looted and disturbed burial sites. A collapsed wall unexpectedly led researchers to an intact chamber, prompting immediate efforts to secure and protect the site from further damage.

To prevent additional looting, the excavation was kept confidential until experts could fully assess and safeguard the structure. Inside, archaeologists uncovered striking frescoes illustrating scenes of dance and ancient craftsmanship, which have been dated to the mid-5th century BC.

INTRICATE FRESCOES DEPICTING ETRUSCAN LIFE

The frescoes offer a fascinating glimpse into Etruscan culture. The left wall showcases men and women dancing around a musician playing the flute, while the right wall features a metallurgical workshop, possibly symbolizing the forge of Sethlans—the Etruscan equivalent of the Greek god Hephaestus.

The back wall depicts a woman, possibly the tomb’s occupant, accompanied by two youthful figures. Unfortunately, part of this scene has been lost due to looters breaching the chamber by drilling through the tomb’s seal. This intrusion caused a collapse from an overlying tomb, scattering debris and artifacts into the burial space.

ARCHAEOLOGICAL FINDINGS AND RESTORATION EFFORTS

Although few burial artifacts remain intact, archaeologists recovered fragments of Attic red-figure pottery from the debris.

Superintendent Margherita Eichberg emphasized the tomb's artistic significance, noting that early restoration efforts have already revealed the intricate details of the flute player and one of the dancers. Restorers Adele Cecchini and Mariangela Santella are currently working to preserve these delicate artworks.

Daniele Maras, a leading expert on Etruscan history, highlighted the tomb's importance, stating, "This is the first painted tomb featuring a figurative frieze discovered in Tarquinia in decades. It holds great promise due to its artistic quality, historical value, and unique imagery."

A RARE GLIMPSE INTO ETRUSCAN HERITAGE

This extraordinary discovery sheds new light on Etruscan burial traditions and artistic achievements. The detailed frescoes offer a rare and invaluable look into a civilization that once thrived in ancient Italy, further enriching our understanding of their customs, mythology, and daily life.

As restoration continues, researchers hope to unveil even more insights from this extraordinary tomb, preserving its legacy for future generations.

[dailyadventureprompts]

Homebrew Mechanic: A Carver's Guide to Monster Parts

Artsource

As long as I've been playing d&d my players have been wanting to salvage trophies or crafting components from slain foes and with Monsterhunter currently taking the internet by storm these requests have only increased. Knowing the core rules were never going to be of help I decided to take a look into the 3rd party space, and while plenty of people HAD created some very thought out systems they weren't quite what I was looking for, though the results were often too specific (only dealing with monsters in a specific book, useless for anything not listed) or too fiddly (requiring lookig up multiple tables and doing lots of math, potentially taking as long as the fight itself)

What I knew I needed was a fast and lightweight system that my party could opt into whenever they felled a great foe that wouldn't require anyone at the table to keep track of the individual value of various monsterbits. As such, I (quite appropriately) salvaged what I could of all the systems I read and supplemented them with my own ideas to get something I think works quite well:

After combat with a monster, the party may attempt to salvage valuable components from their prey by making a carving roll

The DC of the carve is set at 10+ (1/2 the creature's CR rounded down)

A medium creature can generally be carved once, plus an additional time per size category above medium. Multiple Small and smaller creatures may be required to make up a single carve. Multiple characters may carve the same creature at once.

Each carve (which includes preserving the part for transport) takes about an hour. Depending on the danger of the region this may provoke a random encounter as scavengers or wandering monsters are attracted by the scent of a fresh kill.

The roll used depends on the type of creature being carved and what the carver is looking to take. Dexterity (survival) is the go-to option, but arcana/alchemy might be used to salvage components form an aberration or elemental, while someone seeking to trap a ghost's essence might use religion.

Beating the DC by any multiple of 5 grants an additional monster bit per multiple (IE beat it by 10, get +2)

When carving, the character in question may choose one of the following options:

Carving for market: The monster bit is worth 50gp X the creature's CR. This may either be sold or used as raw materials for crafting. Generally noted as Monsterbits (GP VALUE), though some notable items ( such as giant spider silk, a unicorn's horn, troll's blood) can be listed individually as some traders/quest givers will pay extra for them.

Crafting for food: The characters gain provisions of a quality equal to the monster's rarity (Cr5-8 uncommon, CR 9-12 rare etc). Some monsters make for better eating than others.

Carving for trophy: Proof of a kill & boasting rights. Preserved to prevent spoilage but made almost useless for crafting. Trophies are generally worth less than market carves (10gp x the creature’s HD), but a collector may be willing to pay far more for them.

These rules may also be applied to looting groups of enemies, rifling through their pockets and packs for salvage and supplies.

A group twice as large as the party counts as a large creature, where as a group three times as large as the party counts as a huge creature.

Taking bits off fallen sapient creatures is generally thought of as "Freak Behaviour" by both authorities and lay people, and will likely get the party shunned or outlawed.

[badkitty3000]

The Bodyguard

Chapters 1 and 2

Chapter 3 ->

Chapters 4 and 5 ->

Chapter 6 ->

Chapter 7 (final) ->

Five Hargreeves x female reader, multi-chapter, request

Summary: Five is hired to protect you, a professional ballet dancer, from an obsessive stalker. As the threat from the stalker escalates, Five must navigate his growing feelings for you while keeping you safe

Warnings: Smut, rough sex, choking, bathtub sex, after care

A/N: This was sent as a request for Five romantically linked to a ballerina. It quickly evolved into a crazy story involving a stalker, and turned into a multi-chapter saga. In true Bad Kitty form, it will entail smut and romance and all the good stuff. And yes, it is very loosely based on the great 90's movie of the same name

I will probably post new chapters every couple of days or so, but I don't have a set schedule. Let me know if you want to be added or dropped from my tag list

Thank you to everyone that continues to be interested in my fics. You all are amazing! ❤️😽

Chapter 1: The Ballerina

Five sat in the dingy private investigator’s office, across from the sad and bloated looking man who was interviewing him. As the man droned on in a monotonous tone about sick days (there weren’t any) and health benefits (there weren’t any), Five flexed and unflexed his hand against his thigh in an effort not to walk out of there.

He needed a job. And not just some shitty job cleaning floors or bussing tables. He needed some actual money so he could get an actual apartment and not live in the actual hell he was currently living in. 

After he saved the world, and his family was safe, they had been left to fend for themselves. They had their powers, but that didn’t really mean anything in the grand scheme of things. Turns out when you aren’t being manipulated and corralled into superhero fame by your overly ambitious father, no one seems to give a shit if you can teleport or throw knives or commune with the dead. At least not in any way that’s lucrative. It’s an entertaining party trick at best.

So, against his better judgment, Five found himself once again living in an abandoned hellscape. Only instead of an empty world caused by an apocalypse, it was the empty shell of the Umbrella Academy. It was sad and depressing, and not very comfortable, but he would be damned if he was going to shack up with one of his siblings. As far as Five was concerned, that wasn’t even an option.

When Five had figured out a way back to their correct and rightful timeline, he managed to jump them all there safely, including Lila and Sloane. He even figured out a way to age himself up a few years so that he could pass as a young adult and not an adolescent. The only thing he managed to botch this time was arriving one year after their father killed himself, instead of the one day he was aiming for. During that time, the Academy had fallen into disrepair. There had been no signs of Pogo or Grace.

His siblings dispersed to try and fit back into their old lives, or find new ones for themselves. Each one of them asked Five to come with them, but he declined. He wasn’t some kid that needed charity. He could take care of himself. He’d done it for years.

It was now six months later, and Five had not made much progress. He lived inside the dilapidated mansion, roaming around like a ghost that couldn’t move on. He sold some things that were of value that hadn’t been looted, or were hidden away, so that he had enough money to buy food (and booze) and the bespoke suits he had a penchant for. But getting an actual job when you had no credentials to your name, not even a driver’s license, was more difficult than he had thought. Combine that with his baby face and no one took him seriously. No one with any real clout, anyway.

Which is what brought him to this rundown office building he was sitting in today. Klaus was the one that got him the interview, so Five shouldn’t be surprised it wasn’t exactly a high-end joint.

“Anyway, that’s about it,” the tired man said to Five before taking a sip of what had to have been some very stale coffee in a paper cup. “It’s a private security detail. One client. Just have to make sure she gets to and from work ok, and check around her house for creeps. Pretty straight forward.”

“So, I’m a bodyguard?” Five asked suspiciously.

The man shrugged. “I guess if you want to think of it that way. And we’ll give you a car, so add chauffeur in there, too.” He paused. “You got a license, right?”

“I do,” Five answered, which wasn’t a lie. He had a license. It just wasn’t legit. But he could drive, so he figured that was all that mattered.

The guy eyed Five up and smirked. “Luckily we don’t guarantee complete safety, which is why we’re dirt cheap compared to some other places.”

“Why luckily?” Five asked, his eyes narrowing.

The man’s large shoulders moved up and down again with apathy. “You know. You’re not exactly built like Arnold Schwartzenegger, you know what I mean?”

Five nodded slowly. “Sure. But I got the job?”

“Yeah, you got the job. But I will need to make sure you can handle a gun before I send you out there. Legality thing, you know?”

The man reached into a drawer of his beat up desk and pulled out a revolver. Five watched silently as he loaded a few rounds into the chambers and checked it over a few times. He held it up to Five.

“You know what this is?”

“A gun?” Five ventured, just to be a prick.

The man rolled his eyes. “I mean do you know what type it is?”

Five sighed. “A .357 Magnum revolver,” he answered in a bored tone.

The man’s eyebrows raised. “Yeah, that’s right. Have you used one before?”

“A time or two.”

“Now, I’m gonna need to make sure you know how to use it properly.” He handed it over the desk for Five to take it from him. “See how it feels in your hand.”

Five looked the gun over, making a show of feeling the weight of it.

“Feel comfortable?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Five nodded with a smile, right before he turned in his seat and aimed the revolver at the door to the office that he knew led to the back alley.

Before the other man could say anything, Five shot one precise bullet directly into the doorknob, blasting a hole right through it, but leaving the door intact. The noise inside the tiny office was deafening but Five didn’t flinch. Instead, he thoughtfully looked the gun over again, nodded a few times, and set it back on the desk.

“So, I got the job, right?” he asked again, this time standing up and peering down at the man who was still gaping at him while sitting at his desk. Five stuck his hands in his pants pockets and waited for an answer.

“Y-yes, yeah, you got the job,” the man stuttered before clearing his throat and passing a hand over his bald head. He stared at the neatly massacred doorknob. Then he reached over and handed Five a large envelope containing all the specifics of the job. “Here you go. You start tomorrow.”

“And when do I get paid?” Five asked while taking the envelope from him.

“Uh… every Friday.”

Five nodded, already on his way to the door.  “Great.” He stopped and turned again. “I’ll need the keys to the car.”

“Oh right!” The man dug around in the desk drawer again before pulling out a set of keys. He tossed them to Five. “Here you go. Black SUV. Parked out back.” As Five caught the keys and turned to leave, his new boss spoke again. “Let me know if you have any questions.”

“I won’t,” Five answered over his shoulder as he walked out, letting the door slam shut behind him.

**************************************

Later that day, Five was poring over the documents inside the envelope. Sitting at the precariously balanced table where he once ate his mom’s smiley face pancake breakfasts, he grimaced and tipped back his third beer of the night.

“What a crock of shit,” he said to himself, his voice echoing off the bare, cement walls.

The envelope held a few documents and legally binding contracts from the security company. From what Five could gather, his new “asset” was a young ballet dancer that was requesting a private security guard for herself. From the sounds of it, she had a stalker, and despite a restraining order, she was afraid for her safety.

Enter Five.

He tossed the papers to the side and sighed, taking a look around him. God, he hated it there. He needed to get out. Even if it was some equally shitty apartment, anything was better than the Academy. 

So, if he had to put up with some stuck up ballerina princess in a frilly tutu, then he could do that. He figured if he hung in there for a couple months, played by the rules and collected his weekly pay, he’d have enough to get out of this shit hole. He just had to play his cards right, make nice, and not piss anybody off. He could do that. Piece of cake.

***************************

“Where the hell is this lady?” Five grumbled to himself as he stood outside of the black SUV the security company had assigned him. 

He was waiting outside of the address he had been given, where this supposed prestigious dancer lived. It was a giant mansion, set back off the road, with a long, winding driveway that led to the house. Five had turned into the circle drive near the front entrance, cutting off the engine and staring up at the ivy-covered stone and brick exterior. The grand, heavy oak double doors at the top of a set of wide steps were flanked by two large, snarling lion statues.

Five had sighed heavily before getting out of the car and standing next to it. He had been told not to bother knocking; that she would come out on her own at 7:00am.

He checked his watch. It was 7:06. He rolled his eyes and leaned back against the car. “Figures,” he muttered.

At 7:09, one of the doors to the house flew open, banging loudly, as you rushed out, carrying two large gym bags in one hand and a travel mug with your breakfast smoothie in the other. A set of keys dangled from your hand holding the drink, and a pair of sunglasses were perched crookedly on top of your head.

As you tried to close and lock the door behind you, you wrestled with your bags and almost spilled your drink, all while swearing and kicking at the door.

“Stupid… fucking… dumb door never wants to close… piece of shit key… who designed this…“

When you finally got the door closed and locked, you turned to face Five who had been watching all of this go down with a stunned expression. You blushed and then smiled.

“Uh… sorry,” you said nervously. You hoisted your bags up again and made your way down the steps. “The stupid door never wants to lock properly.”

Five realized, a minute too late, that he probably should have helped you with your bags. Instead, he just watched you bumbling around like some sort of cartoon character until you reached the car. You plopped the bags on the ground near Five’s feet.

With a loud exhale, you extended your hand and introduced yourself. “Hi. You must be the guy the security company sent?”

Five took your hand in his, shaking it once before dropping it again. “Five Hargreeves. Nice to meet you.” 

Five ran through a kind of inventory of you in his mind. It was a habit he held onto from his assassin days. An immediate assessment of his target.

Slim but toned. Cute face. The tight bun on top of her head is kind of cliche, but whatever. Gray sweatpants, black leotard. Nice enough rack. Scuffed up tennis shoes. A voice that isn’t too annoying. Clearly a disorganized mess though. But all in all, could be worse. 

“I’m sorry I’m late,” you gushed. “I couldn’t find my shoes and the blender top flew off while I was making my smoothie, so then I had to clean that up, which was super fun, and then –”

Five cut you off with a hand gesture. “It’s fine,” he said, although he didn’t look like he thought it was fine. He looked irritated.

“Ok,” you said, silently telling yourself to shut the hell up. You looked at the SUV he was standing next to. When he noticed, he seemed to remember why he was there in the first place and opened the back passenger door for you. “Thank you,” you said as you climbed in.

Five flung your bags into the trunk, making note of their weight and how you must be a lot stronger than you look to be hauling those things around. As he came around to the driver’s side, he slid in and started the engine. Before putting the car in drive, he turned in his seat to face you.

“You know, you shouldn’t be just hopping into strange men’s cars like this.”

Your eyebrows raised in surprise. “Excuse me?”

“You have no idea who I am. You didn’t ask for any form of ID or other proof that I’m who I say I am. Anybody can wear a suit and drive a black SUV.”

“Oh… “ you stammered. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Well, do you have any ID?”

Five sighed. “Well, it’s kind of late for that now, isn’t it? You already got in the car. I could be driving you off somewhere to murder you, chop you up into little pieces, and dump your body parts in a field.”

You looked nervously out the window and your hand came to rest on the door handle. The doors automatically locked with a loud click and you jumped.

“See?” Five said, with his finger on the lock button. “Don’t you have a stalker that I’m supposed to be protecting you from?”

You nodded slowly.

“Well, based on this first impression, I’d say he’s pretty fucking dumb, because you are extremely easy to catch.”

Your mouth hung open and you slow-blinked as you tried to say something in your defense, but everything he was saying made sense. That, and he was kind of scaring the crap out of you.

Five reached over into the glove compartment, and pulled out a piece of paper and a plastic-covered badge attached to a lanyard. He handed them over to you.

“There. Here’s proof I am who I say I am, even though you apparently don’t care.”

You took the items from him, skimming the paper first. It was a signed document from the security agency with their official seal at the top, assigning a Number Five Hargreeves to be your personal security detail. It looked legit. Next, you studied the ID. It was a picture of Five, looking like he would rather be doing just about anything than getting his picture taken, along with his name, title, and some sort of employee number underneath it. It also bore the seal of the agency.

You handed them back to him. “Thank you, I appreciate you showing those to me. You’re right, I shouldn’t have trusted you so easily.”

Five shoved them back in the glove compartment and closed it. “No, you shouldn’t have.”

As he put the car in gear and headed down your driveway, you leaned forward in your seat. “If you’re so intent on making sure I know who you are, why aren’t you wearing your badge around your neck so that I can see it?”

There was a pause. “Because I try not to look like an asshole and wearing that badge around my neck won’t be doing me any favors.”

You sat back in your seat, grabbing your smoothie and rolling your eyes before taking a sip. Well this guy’s a real charmer, you thought to yourself. At least he’s kind of nice to look at.

Your dance studio was about thirty minutes away, and the car was awkwardly quiet as Five drove. You cleared your throat a couple times, but he seemed to ignore you.

“Do you want to turn the radio on?” you suggested.

“Not really.”

You sat there for a minute, pondering. “You know, I did do some research on you beforehand, so I’m not a complete moron. The agency had given me your name. I know you were one of the Umbrella Academy kids and that you can teleport. That must be pretty cool.”

There was no answer from the front, so you tried again. “So what was it like growing up with–”

“Reginald? Not great, actually,” Five interrupted, clearly annoyed with your question.

You bristled at his continued rudeness. “I was going to say Allison Hargreeves, the actress, actually.”

“Oh,” he said, and you saw his eyebrows furrow together in the rearview mirror. 

“I love all her movies, especially that last one she did, that rom-com?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Is she nice?” you asked, still trying to break the ice.

“Is Allison nice?” Five asked in return.

“Yeah. You know, she’s so famous and high-class. I always wonder what celebrities are like in real life.”

There was a long pause before he answered. “She’s an idiot. All of my siblings are idiots.”

“Oh,” you said, sinking back in your seat. After thinking for a minute, you sat forward again. “You know, you’re not very nice.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “No, I’m really not.”

For the next ten minutes, you gave up trying to converse with Five. But then out of the blue, he spoke up.

“So, I read about this stalker guy of yours.”

You weren’t sure if he was going to say something snarky again, so you hesitated. “Oh… ok.”

“They sent me a file on him. Sounds like a real creep. I understand why you would want to hire someone.”

“Oh,” you breathed out, relieved. “Yeah, it’s not been a fun few months, that’s for sure.”

“So what happened? He fall in love with you at a ballet recital or something?”

You let out a little snort of laughter. “Well, first of all, we don’t call them recitals… I’m not six. They are called performances or simply ballet. And yes, that’s kind of what happened. Although I wouldn’t call becoming unhealthily obsessed with someone falling in love.”

“Good point,” Five mused. “But he’s been following you to work?”

“Yes. The studio has stopped letting him in and will call the cops if he tries to, but he still sits in the parking lot in his car waiting for me to walk inside.” You shivered a little. “He just watches me.”

“You have a restraining order, though?”

“Yeah, he’s technically not allowed within a certain radius, but that radius is not very big. And if he stays on public property, there’s not much I can do about it.”

Five nodded. “Does he know where you live?”

“I’m not sure. I’ve never seen him near my house, but I wouldn’t put it past him.”

“Does he go to your performances?”

“Yes. He’s there every single time, rain or shine, sitting in the very last row to comply with the restraining order. He’ll even come to the matinees and return for the evening performances. And he always dresses in a tuxedo and carries a bouquet of flowers that he tosses on stage afterwards.”

“That’s intense. I would imagine that might throw you off your game, knowing that he’s out there.”

“Yeah, sometimes it does,” you admitted. “Which, truthfully, is one of the reasons I wanted to hire you. If I know someone is there keeping an eye on this guy, then I might be able to concentrate on my dancing instead of worrying about what he might do.”

Five’s eyes flitted to the rearview mirror again to look at you. He had nice eyes, you noticed.

“There must be something more. Some reason this guy is freaking you out so badly.”

Your voice got quieter as you answered him. “Well, for the last few weeks he has started sending me letters to the studio.”

“He doesn’t mail them directly to your home?”

You shook your head. “No, thankfully. Now the secretary just throws them directly in the trash when they come through. But I’ve read enough to know what they say.”

“And what do they say?” Five asked.

“They… uh… they say how much he loves me and how much I have changed his life. He says he thinks about me all day and night and knows we would be happy together if I just give him a chance. That he’s not a bad guy, he just loves me so much and I’m not giving him a shot. Sometimes he gets angry because I don’t respond. Sometimes it’s just more rambling.”

“Is that all?”

He must have sensed you were holding something back, which meant he was actually listening to you and was observant.

“No, that’s not all. Sometimes they get very… graphic.”

“Graphic? Like violent?”

“No, more like… explicit.” You blushed a little. “Sexual. All the things he wants to do to me or says he is going to do to me once we are together. It’s all very detailed.” You shuddered at the thought. “It makes me sick.”

“I would imagine,” Five said with a small nod.

He didn’t say anything else on the subject and you didn’t volunteer any more information. Soon, you were arriving at your dance studio. While your first impression of Five wasn’t exactly blowing you away, you did note that he seemed to take his job seriously. When he got out and walked around to your side, he surveyed the parking lot before opening the door for you. 

You got out and looked around. When you noticed the familiar dark blue pickup truck parked in the back, occupied by a tall, thin man wearing a baseball cap, you pointed him out to Five.

“There, that’s him.”

Five nodded. “I saw him when I got out. I’ve got my eye on him.”

You smiled. “Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me. This is what I was hired for,” Five responded, as if that were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Right. Well, can I get my bags then?”

Five hauled your bags out and handed them over to you. “I would carry them for you, but I need my hands free. Just in case.”

You understood what he was saying, and it made sense. If he needed to use a weapon, he couldn’t be carrying two bags stuffed with dance attire and water bottles. As you walked towards the door, Five accompanied you, staying close. You were always observant of how other people carried themselves, probably because you used your body as a way of artistic expression, so you were honed in on others’ body movements as well. 

Five held himself confidently, walking swiftly and with purpose. You liked how he matched your stride so that he didn’t stray too far ahead or behind. And you liked how his suit coat brushed against your arm a few times. You stole a couple of quick glances at his face while you were walking, but looked away before he could notice. There was no denying he was handsome.

When you led him inside, this observation was confirmed by the number of sideways glances and outright gawks that he received from the other dancers. Male and female. You kept your head down, embarrassed to be seen with an actual bodyguard in tow, and headed for the locker room to change. As you got to the door, you turned to Five.

“I’m not sure how this works, exactly,” you admitted. “Do you wait here? In the car?”

Five looked around curiously, taking in his surroundings. “I’ll be here, in the building. Don’t worry, I won’t get in the way. I might take a few looks outside periodically, but I won’t stray far.”

“Thank you.” You paused, remembering that you weren’t supposed to thank him. “I rehearse for six hours, though,” you added guiltily.

Five shrugged. “That’s fine. When you’re done, I’ll take you home again.”

“Alright, then,” you said with a nod and a smile. Then you walked into the locker rooms, leaving Five in the hallway.

****************************

Five waited, as he told you he would. He wasn’t exactly thrilled about having to hang around in a dance studio all day, but he was used to having to endure long, boring stretches of time by himself. At least in this case, there were some nice views to be had. Five tried not to be obvious, but the beautifully sculpted bodies that walked past him all day long were not going unnoticed. About halfway through the day, after Five had taken a quick survey of the parking lot, he decided to park himself in front of the window that looked into the large rehearsal room. He didn’t know much about ballet, so he was a little curious about it. 

As he stood there, arms folded across his chest, he watched as you and your fellow dancers practiced the same few steps over and over again. The director was demanding perfection each time, and from Five’s point of view, it was perfect. He couldn’t stop staring.

The fluid movements of your body had him transfixed and he kept his eyes on you, ignoring the other dancers twirling around you. You gracefully lept and flew through the air like some sort of beautiful gazelle or mythical fairy creature. You had removed your sweatpants and were wearing a black leotard with gray leg warmers, and of course your pointe shoes that allowed you to dance on your toes.

Your legs were nothing but muscle and sinew, toned and tightened by years of discipline. The way your arms bent and swayed with each movement looked easy and second nature, even though Five knew it must have been incredibly difficult. You made it all appear effortless, and Five found he was staring a little too long, because at one point you turned toward him and caught him. You gave him a small smile before returning to your work, and Five moved to a different area where he wouldn’t be tempted to watch.

On one of his wanderings, he came across photos of the dance company members lining a wall. He paused, glancing over the names and faces, casually looking for yours. It wasn’t hard to find though, because there you were, front and center. A professional headshot of you, larger than the others, was framed in the middle of the wall. Underneath was a small plaque with your name and the number of years you had been with the company. It also read “principal dancer”.

When the day was over, and you had showered in the locker rooms there and changed into clean clothes again, Five led you back to the SUV. Your stalker was still there, waiting in his blue truck, until you were inside the car and then he drove away. It was what he always did. Waited until you were finished with your day and then left. You wondered where he went or where he lived. But you also didn’t really want to know.

As Five drove you back home, it was silent for a while before he spoke up.

“What is a principal dancer?”

You were surprised at first by his question. You didn’t really think he would take an interest in anything personal having to do with you. But he must have seen your photo inside the studio.

“A principal dancer has the highest rank within the dance company,” you explained, feeling your face flush a little. “Sometimes they’re called prima ballerinas.”

Five took that in for a second. “So, you’re the best dancer?”

You laughed. “I wouldn’t say I’m the best, necessarily, but I’ve definitely paid my dues. There are many talented dancers in our company.”

“But not as good as you,” Five said. You saw his eyes glance in the mirror again. “I saw you.”

You nodded. “I saw you watching. Do you like ballet?”

“Not particularly, no,” he answered honestly. 

“Oh. Well, that’s a shame.”

“I enjoyed watching you, though,” he said, and you thought you heard his voice crack just a tiny bit as he said it. Then he cleared his throat. “Not in a stalker way. I just mean the dancing was interesting.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

There was more silence as the car sped along en route to your house. You couldn’t help the tiny smile that formed on your face as you looked out the window. This guy was starting to grow on you.

When you arrived home, he got out and opened the car door for you again, this time taking your bags for you as you both headed up the stairs to your front door.

You laughed nervously. “I feel like this is a date and you’re walking me home.”

Five shook his head with a slight smile. “Not a date. I’ll just make sure you get in safely and there are no signs of forced entry, and then I’ll be on my way.”

“Got it.” You turned to unlock the door and then stopped, turning to face Five again. “So, there’s something you should know.”

“What’s that?”

You looked at your feet. “Well, it’s just that this house… I know it looks fancy and you probably think I’m some rich bitch snob, but… “ Five couldn’t deny that, so just waited for you to finish. “Let’s just say don’t judge a book by its cover, ok?”

Five didn’t say anything at first, until he realized you were actually waiting for a sign of acknowledgement. Then he nodded. “Ok.”

You unlocked the door and let Five step inside first. You held your breath as you watched him walk into the grand foyer and take everything in. You knew what he was probably thinking. That he couldn’t believe you lived in such a shit hole.

Five spun slowly around, looking at the open first story of your house. Once upon a time it had been a beautiful mansion. Now it resembled more of a construction zone than anything else. The walls of the massive living room that were lined with faded, gold-striped wallpaper, were half-torn down or riddled with holes. Only half of the lights worked in the house, leaving just a few old sconces on the wall flickering dimly. A sitting area on the other side of the foyer was filled with old, dusty furniture that had collected over the years that were in various states of disrepair. A grand piano sat off to the side, covered in a large sheet to keep the dust and dirt off. It was one of the only things in the house that you cherished.

You sighed and laughed quietly. “Home sweet home.”

Five looked at you curiously, his head tilted slightly to the side. He slid his hands into his pants pockets and rocked back on his heels.

“You’re right, this is not what I expected from the outside.” He looked around again. “What happened?”

When he asked you that, you got a sense that he didn’t mean what happened to the house, but rather, what happened to you for you to end up living this way.

“This was my grandmother’s house. She grew up here and lived here her entire life. When I was little, I used to come here all the time. Even then it was starting to become a little disheveled. Nana wasn’t much of a housekeeper.” You laughed at the memory. “But she was fun and a little crazy, and she took me to my first ballet when I was five. After that, I used to dance right here in this foyer, pretending I was the star of the show, while she played the piano.”

“She paid for my first dance lessons and came to every recital. But then her mind started to go and her housekeeping skills got even worse. The house fell into disrepair over the years and she kind of just shut herself inside while it deteriorated around her. I tried to help, but after a while she didn’t remember who I was.” Your eyes filled with tears. “That was the worst part.”

“What about your parents?” Five asked.

“They’re still around, but they don’t really see my dancing as a real career. I think they still view me as a little kid playing dress up.” You shrugged. “They wanted me to be a doctor or something they could be proud of.”

Five’s eyebrows creased together. “They should be proud of you now. You’re the captain of the dance team.”

You laughed loudly, which made him crack a smile. “Principal dancer, but yeah… close enough.” You shook your head. “It’s not enough for them.”

“So, what made you end up here?”

“Well, when my grandmother died, she left all her possessions to me. She didn’t have much in the end, just a couple thousand dollars and this house. So, I decided I’d live here until I could afford to either move somewhere better or fix it up. No one wants to buy it in the state it’s in. Unfortunately, on my salary, that will take a while.”

“Dance captains don’t make good money?” Five asked with a smirk.

“Not really, no. For the amount of work we put in, our dedication, and the discipline we have for our bodies… it’s really not much. But I figure the house is free, so I might as well stay here and save up. I don’t need any place fancy, anyway.”

Five nodded, his green eyes searching your face before pushing his hair off his forehead. “I should take a look around, just to be safe. Then I’ll leave you alone for the night.”

“Ok, yeah,” you started walking further into the house. “Follow me, I’ll show you around.”

You gave Five a tour, leading him through each aging area of the house and taking him through the outdated kitchen that still, embarrassingly, contained some of the remains of your spilled smoothie from that morning. The two of you walked up the grandiose, winding staircase so you could show him each bedroom and bathroom. When you came to the master bedroom, which was the one you had taken over, you paused with a smile.

“This one might surprise you.”

You opened the double doors to the bedroom with a flourish, presenting the room to Five like it was some sort of splendid wonderment. He stepped inside with you and you gestured around.

“I decided to splurge and make this my little home within a home,” you explained.

The room was big, and you had kept your grandmother’s antique four poster bed, but spruced it up with a luxurious, light pink comforter, fluffy pillows, and a couple strings of fairy lights overhead. The dressers and vanity mirror were also original, but you had refinished them and added new, updated hardware. A small reading nook with a big, comfy armchair and bookshelves took up one corner of the room.

Five hadn’t said anything as he looked around, which made you a little self-conscious.

“So, yeah… this is where the magic happens,” you joked, laughing stupidly at yourself and then blushing.

Five just gave you a semi-amused look, but didn’t comment further.

You cleared your throat. “Here, let me show you the bathroom. This will really blow your mind.”

The en suite bathroom was the crown jewel of the house and just as large as the bedroom itself. It was the one room your grandmother had kept up and it was still beautiful.

“She loved baths,” you said as you motioned to the gigantic soaking tub that was big enough for four people.

It was surrounded by gorgeous, expensive marble tile, with a stand alone shower that was also impressive. You had lined the ledge around the tub with candles and scented soaps that you loved to use after a long day of dancing. The sink and cabinets were adorned with gold accents, but without being too gaudy. You had added plush, pink towels and other accents to give it your own flair.

“Pretty cool, huh?”

Five nodded. “It’s definitely impressive. Your grandmother seemed to have good taste.”

“Yes, she did.”

After another few seconds, Five turned to you. “Is there anywhere else I need to look before I leave?”

“Oh,” you said, suddenly feeling a little stupid that you had been showing off your bathroom, when really all he wanted to know was that everything was locked up safely. “No, this is it. In terms of outside access points, anyway.”

“Just make sure you keep all doors and windows locked. Even on the second floor.” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a card, handing it over to you. “Here’s my number. Call me if you need anything or you suspect anything.”

“Yeah, ok. Thank you.”

With another nod, Five turned to head back out of the room. You followed him down the stairs until you were at the front door. He opened it and then turned to you again.

“You know, you really shouldn’t lead a strange man through your house like that. There were several spots where you would have been trapped with no way out if I had ill intentions.”

You rolled your eyes. “Seriously?”

Five smiled crookedly. “I’m just saying… you shouldn’t be so trusting.”

You eyed him up for a minute, trying to determine if he was making fun of you or not. You decided to see if you could rattle him a little. “And what kind of ill intentions would you be thinking of… you know… if you had any?” You put your hand on your hip and cocked it to the side. 

Five wasn’t so easily thrown off his game, though, and he didn’t even flinch at your flirty invitation. With that same half-smile he shook his head. “See you tomorrow morning.” He paused, looking back on his way down the steps as you stood in the doorway. “Same time? Or should I factor smoothie accidents into the equation?”

You laughed, despite your annoyance. “I promise I’ll be on time.”

“Good night,then,” he said, before heading to the car.

“Good night, Five.”

******************************

Chapter 2: The Letter

When Five arrived back at the Academy, he went immediately to the bar, just like he always did, and poured himself a generous glass of whatever he was in the mood for at the moment. Tonight it was bourbon. And not a bad one, either. He took a sip and sighed, letting the smokiness of the liquor burn deliciously down his throat.

Five shrugged off his jacket and vest, loosening his tie and rolling up the sleeves of his shirt as he sat heavily on one of the old bar stools. The house was quiet except for the occasional whistle of wind through an exposed crack, or an ominous creaking noise from somewhere within the old foundation. It all added to the overall ambiance of a haunted house that Five was starting to grow accustomed to.

As he sat there, ruminating on the happenings of the day, he spun the chipped crystal glass idly on the bartop in front of him.

He wasn’t sure what to think of you. He had been expecting a rich, stuck-up princess type, but that’s not what you were at all. Instead, you were surprisingly pleasant; and Five didn’t find most people pleasant. So, this was fairly new territory for him. During the few short interactions he had with you throughout the day, he found himself enjoying your company. Again, this was all new for Five.

He thought about how you and he weren’t that different in some ways. You were both living alone in these big, crumbling mansions that appeared impressive from the outside but were a mess on the inside. If Five really wanted to go down that road, he could make the case that your houses were metaphors for yourselves. But the last thing he wanted to do was to start analysing his psyche, so he moved on.

He found himself lost in a daydream of you dancing effortlessly and gracefully around the dilapidated halls of the Academy, just like he had seen you dance in the studio that day. In his fantasy, you were surrounded by a golden halo of light that brightened every room you passed through. What a contrast your elegance and beauty was when compared to the darkness of the mansion. He smiled at the thought.

He thought of how you had made the best of your situation and had actually carved out a space for yourself in that old house; making the master bedroom and bathroom into your home within a home. Five looked around him. He had done nothing like that. The thought had never even occurred to him. He had made the space livable, at least for his meager needs, but it was in no way a “home”. He had not decorated it with things he liked or found interesting. He hadn’t brought in any new furniture or tried to fix what was there. He had essentially made it like his camp he had with Dolores during the apocalypse. A relatively safe place to come back to every day. A place to survive.

Five then thought of your stalker. He had no sympathies for this unknown and possibly dangerous man that was obsessed with you. But he could almost see his side of things. Especially if this man had seen you dance, Five could see how that could spark some sort of unhealthy, imaginary romance. Not that he would hesitate to take that fucker out if he needed to, or that he would ever stoop to such a pathetic level himself, but still. He kind of got it.

He started taking a mental inventory of all of the access points in your house that he had noticed while you had led him around. You had told him that you didn’t think your stalker knew where you lived, but Five had his doubts. Why would this guy stop at just the studio and theater? If he was that hung up on you, then there was no reason to believe he wouldn’t have followed you home at some point. 

Again, Five’s mind wandered back to your dancing, only this time instead of the Academy, he pictured you twirling around in your beautifully marbled bathroom. The candles that surrounded the edge of the tub were lit, illuminating your face and body with flickering light. And then somehow… for some reason… Five started to imagine you in less and less clothing until you were fully nude. Your strong body and defined muscles flexed and moved with each sensual pose you demonstrated for him, all while growing closer and closer until you were right there in front of him. Your warm skin pressing against him… your soft mouth a mere inches away… 

“Five,” you whispered and god damn it if he didn’t want to drop to his knees at just the sound of his name on your lips.

“Five!”

Five jumped, startled out of his fantasy by a very real and familiar voice.

“Fivey! Hello? Where are you?”

Five groaned before tipping his head back and yelling in response. “Klaus, where the fuck do you think I am?”

Klaus sauntered into the parlor, looking around him as if he hadn’t just been there a few days ago. He spied Five sitting at the bar and he broke out in a smile.

“Oh, hey there, Fivey.”

With a roll of his eyes, Five took another drink before addressing his brother. “Klaus, I only occupy one room of this crap hole, and it’s the same room every time, so I’m not sure where your confusion is coming from.”

Klaus shrugged, joining Five at the bar and leaning over to grab one of the bottles from underneath. He unstoppered the half-full bottle of vodka and took a swig. Then he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“I like pretending we’re in an old sitcom together. You know, like ‘Honey, I’m home!’ and then you run out with an apron and heels on, carrying my favorite drink for me while I sit in an armchair and smoke a pipe.”

Five turned so that he could lean his back against the bartop. “Klaus, in what universe do you think I would be the housewife in that situation?”

Klaus shrugged again, reaching over to ruffle Five’s hair, which earned him a swat on the hand. “I’m not sure, but you’d look awfully cute in an apron.”

“God, you are disturbed.”

“Thank you!” Klaus responded happily before taking another drink. When he lowered the bottle he sighed. “So, what’s been happening around here?”

“Not much. I started that new security job you turned me on to, so thank you for that.”

“Did you? Oh, well that would make sense.”

“What do you mean?”

“My buddy, the one who is friends with your new boss and told me about the job opening, said some psychopath came in there yesterday and shot up the place. Right before demanding he be given the job.”

Five nearly choked on his drink. “What? I didn’t shoot up the place!” Klaus raised a skeptical eyebrow. Five sighed. “It was one, very tiny and very discrete shot into the doorknob of the door. I wouldn’t call that shooting up the place.”

Klaus smiled. “I see.”

“And I certainly didn’t demand the job. It was offered to me before I shot up the place.” He closed his eyes in frustration. “I mean, before I fired the single, harmless shot.”

Klaus chuckled. He loved getting under his brother’s skin. Even if that did put him at risk for bodily harm.

“So, what is this job anyway? You like a security guard at a mall or something?”

“More like a bodyguard.”

That piqued Klaus’s interest and he put his elbow on the bar, propping his head up with his hand as he smiled slyly. “Ohhh…. Tell me more about that!”

“There’s nothing to tell. She’s a dancer and she has a stalker.”

Klaus gasped dramatically. “Dancer? Like a stripper?”

Five scoffed. “No. She’s a ballet dancer.”

There was another loud gasp that prompted an irritated scowl from Five. “A ballerina! Oh, Fivey… this is like some serious romance shit! I can just picture it… the stalker tries to get to the beautiful, helpless ballerina, threatening to kidnap her or worse… but then you swoop in to save the day, knock the guy on his ass, and then guess who gets the girl?”

Klaus waited as if he expected an actual response from Five. When all he received was a blank stare, he poked Five in the shoulder. “You do, silly! No woman can resist a real life hero saving them from the clutches of the evil villain. She’ll probably reward you by immediately jumping those skinny little bones of yours. Do a little tongue pirouette on your downstairs bits, if you know what I mean.”

“Klaus, what the fuck?” Five responded, running a hand down his face in frustration.

“What? I bet she’s rich, too, huh?”

“Not really, no.”

“Oh,” Klaus answered with a disappointed sigh. Then he perked up again. “But mark my words, Fivey. When she sees what a badass killer you are, she’s going to be on you like flies on shit.”

“What a charming visual, thank you for that,” Five sighed.

“You know what I mean. She won’t be able to hold herself back.”

“First of all, stop being a pervert. Second of all, you don’t even know anything about her. I haven’t even told you what she looks like or her age or anything!”

Klaus nodded. “You’re right.” Then he grinned. “She’s hot though, isn’t she?”

Five took another drink, speaking over the top of his glass. “She is moderately attractive.”

“Ha!” Klaus exclaimed, slapping Five on the back and making him slosh his bourbon onto his good suit pants. “I knew it! Well, good for you, Broseph Stalin. It’s about time.”

“About time for what?” Five muttered while he angrily wiped at his pants with a napkin.

“About time for you to get that new and improved dick of yours wet. You’ve been keeping it sealed up for too long. Time to let that bad boy out for some air!”

“Jesus Christ, Klaus!” Five cried, throwing his hands up. “What is your fucking problem? Can’t you just leave me alone?”

“What? I’m trying to help you out!”

“Klaus, the only thing you are doing is reaffirming my decision to live alone.” Klaus put on his best pout and tried to look hurt. Five rolled his eyes before trying to change the subject. “The job pays pretty well at least, so I should be able to get out of here soon.”

Klaus looked around at the sad remains of their childhood home and nodded. Then he turned to Five with an almost nervous smile. “So, if you move out, does that mean no more drop-ins?“

Five sighed and shook his head. He reached over and patted Klaus on the shoulder, although he didn’t make eye contact. “You’re always welcome, no matter where I end up, Klaus.”

Klaus clapped his hands and tried to lean in for a hug, but was met with nothing but empty air as Five blinked away at the last second. Klaus toppled off his barstool in the process, while Five laughed at him from the other side of the bar.

“You’re an asshole,” Klaus grumbled as he hauled himself back up.

Five smirked. “Yeah, I know.”

*************************

Over the next few weeks, you and Five developed a kind of routine. He would arrive at your house and wait outside by the car every morning at 7:00am on the dot. You would stumble your way out somewhere between 7:08 and 7:15. There was the predictable exchange of Five’s irritated grumblings while you blabbered on about whatever it was that made you late that day. It would end with Five taking your bags and opening the car door, all while smiling and shaking his head at your constant state of turmoil.

You liked your little talks in the car to and from the studio. It was awkward in the beginning, but over time it became comfortable. You would chat about your work and rehearsals, and gossip about the other dancers. There was always a love tryst going on somewhere, but you stayed away from all of that. You didn’t need that drama in your life. 

“So, what about you? You never talk about a boyfriend,” Five had asked one day on the way home. You noticed the slight shift in tone when he asked you. Like he was going for an air of casualness but not really pulling it off.

“Oh, no,” you said, waving your hand in the air. “No boyfriend for me.”

“Why not?”

You paused, not really sure how you were supposed to answer that and why he wanted to know. “Well, lots of reasons I suppose. The main one is probably that I’m so busy that I don’t have time to even see my family or friends, let alone a boyfriend.”

“What about the male dancers at your studio?” Five asked, clearly not wanting to drop the subject.

You sighed. “No thank you. Most of them aren’t into women anyway, and the ones that are I have no interest in. Plus I don’t need to be dating anyone from work. I’ve got enough going on.”

Five nodded, keeping his eyes on the road. “Good point.”

You leaned back against the backseat and looked out the window. Then you chuckled quietly to yourself.

“What?” Five asked.

“Oh nothing. I was just thinking that you are the closest thing I have to a boyfriend right now.”

There was a moment of silence before you saw Five swallow. “How is that?”

“Well, other than the dancers in my company, you are the person I see the most lately. You’re there when I get up in the morning, you’re there when I come home. You’re one of the only people that has seen inside my mess of a house, including my bedroom. We talk every day and know each other’s personal lives.” You laughed again. “Honestly, the only thing different is that we aren’t fucking.”

Your giggle came to an abrupt halt as you clamped your mouth shut. You don’t even know why you had said that, it just kind of came out. You worried at your bottom lip with your teeth as you tried to decide whether to say anything else to cover it up or just shut your trap and pretend it never happened.

There was a long, silent pause as the car drew to a stop at a red light. Five’s eyes met yours in the mirror and he didn’t look away.

“Well, that figures,” Five said and you saw him smirk. “I get all of the boyfriend duties and none of the perks.”

Your jaw dropped open for a second and then you let go with a loud peal of laughter. You punched him lightly on the shoulder.

“Five Hargreeves! I never knew you made jokes!”

He shrugged, his eyes returning to the road as the light turned green again. “Well, now you know. I’m a fucking comedian.”

That made you laugh even harder and you tried to suppress the smile that kept creeping up the entire ride home. And even though he tried to hide it, Five was wearing one, too.

************************

Your little naughty joke seemed to have broken the last barrier between the two of you, and after that it was like you were an old married couple. When you weren’t having deep conversations and learning about one another’s lives, you were either cracking stupid jokes at the others’ expense or bickering over the smallest things. Within the span of another two weeks, Five had somehow become your friend. And not just a casual one; he had become your number one confidant. You felt comfortable with him. You felt safe. And you were pretty sure he felt the same way about you.

Your stalker continued to show up every day to your studio, just like always. Sometimes he would get out of his truck and stand there, just watching, as you and Five made your way inside. On those occasions when you felt a little more on edge, Five would blink you directly into the building, to avoid the man being able to see you. 

You liked when he blinked you places. He didn’t do it often, but when he did it was like a little adrenaline rush and it always left you laughing. Plus, you couldn’t deny that you liked having him that close to you. He would usually just hold on to your upper arm, but sometimes he would take your hand in his. Once, for no discernible reason, he had wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you in close. There had been a split second when you thought he might kiss you, but before you could even entertain that thought, you were being ripped through a portal and landing on the other side where he let go of you immediately.

Five also started spending more time outside of your rehearsal room. You would catch him through the window, trying to look like he wasn’t interested but failing. You found yourself flaunting your body just a little more when you knew he was looking. Not so much while you were dancing; that you took very seriously and were focused in. But during breaks, when you took a drink from your water bottle, and just happened to let a small river of water slip down your exposed neck and between your breasts. And when you needed to adjust your shoes and would coincidentally bend over directly in front of his sightline. It was silly, but hey, you didn’t have anything else going on in your non-existent love life, so you had to create some excitement.

While you did enjoy each other's company, your relationship never extended past Five’s security duties. Every night he made sure the house was locked up and safe, and every night he left to go back to his decrepit mansion while you stayed in yours. He had given you his number, but you had never had to use it. 

Until you got the fright of your life.

Five had left hours earlier, yet you were still awake and roaming around the spacious house. You settled into a kitchen chair, listening to the sound of the tea kettle on the stove start to come to life with bubbling water. It wasn’t loud enough yet to cover the noise you heard coming from outside, though. A noise that made you freeze like a horror-stricken statue in your seat.

It was the unmistakable sound of car tires rolling slowly up the gravel driveway to your house. The noise became louder until it stopped altogether. And then you heard a car door open and slam shut again.

“Oh my god,” you whispered to yourself.

You hopped up, racing over to the light switch on the wall and clicking it off. Then you crawled into the living room, staying low to avoid the windows, and switched off the lamp you had been reading beside earlier. The house was now in total darkness as you listened to a pair of heavy footsteps make their way to the front door.

You held your breath as you crouched next to one of the old sofas. Maybe it was Five, you thought to yourself. Maybe he forgot something or was just coming to check on you. You rolled your eyes at your stupidness. The footsteps came to a halt near the door. There was a moment of pure terror while you waited for whatever was going to come next.

Would they break a window to get inside? Kick in the door? Would they find you huddled on the ground and put a bullet in your head? Or worse things you didn’t even want to entertain?

After a few seconds, the same footsteps began to retreat and fade further away. You heard the car door open and shut again and the tires crunch on the gravel, presumably as the car backed down the driveway. And then everything was silent again.

When the tea kettle in the kitchen came to a full boil and shrieked its alert to you, you screamed out loud, your voice echoing off the walls. You clapped a hand over your mouth, but started making your way towards the kitchen again, still on your hands and knees. Once you stood and were able to move the kettle off of the burner and silence it again, you leaned against the counter and took in a big, shaking breath.

“Holy fuck,” you cursed.

After at least another ten minutes of keeping still, there were no other worrying sounds from outside or inside, and you switched on the light in the kitchen again. After slowly making your way to the front door, you peered into the peephole. When all you saw was the dark outside and an empty porch, you breathed a sigh of relief. But, like an idiot, that wasn’t enough. Unlocking the door as quietly as possible, you opened it just a crack so that you could quickly peek outside.

There was no one there and you were about to close the door and lock it again, when something caught your eye. In the open maw of one of the lion statues on the porch was a white envelope, giving the illusion that the lion was delivering you some mail. Taking another hurried look from side to side, you leaned over to snatch it up and slammed the door shut, locking it and pressing your back against it while you caught your breath.

With trembling hands, you looked down at the letter-sized envelope in your hand. Your name was typed neatly on the front with a hand-drawn heart next to it. You made a little groaning noise and tried to blink back the tears you felt forming in your eyes.

Five. It was the first thought you had. I need to get to Five.

Chapter 3->

Tag List: @vera-arora, @loganskittycatears, @raggabashie, @coolspider-man101, @cincohargreeveslove, @moon6star, @hopefuldesignofkawaii, @dorkyfangirl24, @chifuyu-monam0ur, @tuanputri-magui, @little-forest-goblin, @i-liketoast, @groovydazephantom, @d4rkpasseng3r, @ur-moms-fav-whore, @dremnia, @iselinde, @whatsawagonwheel, @wawawafdtuhdjh, @marydbl, @rubixgsworld, @yangzpotter, @yourlocalbrellie, @1-is-loneliest-number, @ifellinto-fantasy, @mimi4morr, @em1989ts, @fndmsrndmyfckinglfe, @moonkitty59, @wonwon1e, @smt-obsessed, @strawberrymilk4k, @voteforevilthoughts, @xfanficluvrx, @losingmymindforsoobin, @sofiebikovi, @jana0509, @thesilvertheorist

[ankababy]

A Home

Part 2

Chishiya x reader x Niragi

After winning another game, you found two boys. Unconscious, bleeding, and kind of pretty too. Anyways, you were an angel, so you took them in, and now, they’re waking up in your fancy apartment.

(Not roasted Niragi, this is an era between the two boys being executives at the beach and Arisu arriving, no actual romance just Niragi making moves to have fun, english NOT my first language)

The first thing Niragi registered when he regained consciousness was the feeling of something soft. Too soft. His brain, still foggy from unconsciousness, automatically assumed one of two things:

1. He was dead.

2. He was dreaming about being rich.

But when he blinked and his vision cleared, revealing a glass chandelier hanging from the ceiling and a suspiciously clean marble floor, he realized something much more unsettling.

He wasn't fucking dead.

This was worse.

He groaned, shifting, and that's when he felt it—pain. A dull, aching pain everywhere. His body had been through some shit, and moving made him immediately regret waking up.

That's when he heard it.

A voice.

Calm. Unfazed. Judgmental.

"So you survived. Unfortunate."

Niragi's head snapped to the side. And of course. Of course. The first thing he had to see after surviving whatever fuck had happened was the one fucking guy he hated more than anyone else.

Chishiya.

That smug bastard was sitting up on the couch opposite him, looking as bored as ever, one arm draped over the backrest like he was on vacation. His expression was unreadable, but Niragi knew that if he had died, this dude would've been the first to loot his body.

"Wow." Niragi croaked, voice hoarse. "You're still alive? That's what's unfortunate.”

Chishiya didn't even flinch. He just tilted his head slightly, eyes scanning Niragi like he was trying to calculate how much blood loss it would take to kill him. "Tragic, isn't it?"

"Deeply."

Before Niragi could force himself up and punch him, something shifted in the room. A presence. A sweet one.

"Good morning! You're finally awake!"

Both of them turned their heads.

There, standing in front of them, was you.

And holy shit.

You looked like you didn't belong in this world. At all. Too clean. Too soft. Too... nice. Like some angelic creature that had somehow survived this thing with sheer kindness and, possibly, black magic.

Chishiya stared at you with interest, already analyzing. Niragi, on the other hand, openly squinted.

"What the fuck?"

You smiled warmly. "Oh, I found you two unconscious and bleeding out, so I took you in and patched you up!"

Silence.

"You did what?" Niragi snapped. "Why the fuck would you do that?!"

Your expression didn't change. "Because you were dying."

"And?" Niragi looked deeply offended. "That's how things work. People die. It's the natural order of—"

Chishiya cut in. "What he's trying to say is that you wasted your time."

You blinked. "You think saving you was a waste of time?"

Chishiya gave a small, indifferent nod. "Correct."

Niragi scoffed, trying to push himself up, only to immediately regret it as pain shot through his body. "Ow, fuck—"

"You really shouldn't be moving that much yet." you said, stepping forward instinctively, only for Niragi to flinch like you were about to stab him.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Niragi barked, pointing a shaky finger at you. "Back up, Care Bear. I don't trust this."

Chishiya exhaled, unimpressed. "Obviously. If you trusted this, you'd be dumber than you already are."

"Shut the fuck up, bitch."

You clasped your hands together, watching them. "So... you two know each other?”

Both of them immediately turned to you and spoke at the same time.

"No." (Niragi.)

"Unfortunately." (Chishiya.)

You giggled. Giggled. Niragi stared at you like you were an alien, while Chishiya simply observed.

"Well, I'm Y/N." you introduced yourself, smiling brightly. "And you're currently in my home! Don't worry, I don't expect you to do anything in return. Just rest up until you're better."

Niragi, still processing, slow-blinked. "Okay. Yeah. Cool. But—why the fuck do you have such a fancy-ass apartment?"

You beamed. "Oh, I just found it! No one was left, so I took it!"

"...That's kind of fucked up."

You tilted your head innocently. "Would you rather I left it empty?"

Niragi opened his mouth. Closed it. Stared at you. "Okay, you're too calm. This is weird. You're weird."

Chishiya hummed. "Agreed. People like you don't exist anymore."

You simply shrugged. "I don't know what to tell you. You two looked like you needed help, so I helped."

Silence.

Then Niragi scoffed, shaking his head. "Yeah, okay, but I'm still not thanking you."

Chishiya leaned back, smirking slightly. "Obviously. You have no manners."

Niragi shot him a glare. "Neither do you, dickhead."

"Incorrect. I have excellent manners. I just choose not to use them."

You giggled again, and it was honestly disturbing. Niragi wasn't used to this—actual warmth. It made his skin crawl. He eyed you like you might secretly be a serial killer.

Chishiya, meanwhile, just looked at you thoughtfully. "So. What happens now?"

You smiled. "Well, now you both get to heal up in peace! And maybe eat something."

Niragi's eye twitched. "This is a trap."

Chishiya nodded slightly. "I second that. This is suspicious."

You pouted. "You think I saved your lives just to poison you?"

"Yes." both of them said at the same time.

You laughed. "You two are funny."

"No." Chishiya corrected. "He's just loud."

Niragi turned to him, jaw dropping. "Oh my god, do you ever shut up?"

Chishiya tilted his head. "No."

You just smiled sweetly. "Well, at least you have each other!"

Both of them physically recoiled at that.

"Fuck no." (Niragi.)

"Don't say that again." (Chishiya.)

You giggled. Again. It was terrifying.

"So," you chirped, tilting your head slightly. "What are your names?"

Niragi and Chishiya both went silent.

Chishiya, to be fair, had already been silent—watching, listening, assessing—but Niragi? He was actively avoiding answering. You could see it in his face, the way his lips pursed slightly, the tiny furrow in his brow. He didn't like giving out information. Neither of them did.

But you? You were patient.

Chishiya, as expected, was the first to break the silence. "Chishiya."

You nodded, smiling warmly. "Chishiya." you repeated. "That's a nice name."

Chishiya hummed noncommittally, watching you. It was strange—his expression was almost completely blank, but you could feel his thoughts running at high speed, analyzing, picking apart everything you said.

That was fine. You were used to it.

Then you turned to Niragi expectantly.

He narrowed his eyes. "Why do you wanna know?"

You blinked. "Because I saved your life?"

"Tch." He looked away, muttering, "It's Niragi."

You smiled, pretending you didn't hear the hostility in his tone. "Nice to meet you, Niragi."

Niragi made a face, shifting uncomfortably. "You're really too nice.”

Chishiya let out a quiet chuckle, like Niragi being irritated was mildly entertaining. "Not used to kindness?"

Niragi shot him a glare. "No, actually. I'm allergic."

"Ah." Chishiya nodded in mock understanding. "That explains the rash on your personality."

Your eyes flicked between them, amused. "Do you two always talk to each other like this?"

"Yes." (Chishiya.)

"No, usually it's worse." (Niragi.)

You giggled. Niragi visibly shuddered. "Stop doing that."

"What?"

"That creepy little giggle. You sound like a horror movie.

"That's just how I laugh!"

"Yeah, well, laugh worse."

Chishiya leaned back, crossing his arms. "You're deflecting."

"No shit, Sherlock."

You smiled, unbothered. "So... how long have you two known each other?”

Chishiya barely reacted. Niragi, on the other hand, let out an exaggerated groan. "Too fucking long."

"Not long enough," Chishiya muttered. "considering you're still alive."

You just watched them bicker, your head tilted slightly in curiosity.

Chishiya was fascinating.

The way he spoke, the way he moved—there was control in everything he did. He gave just enough to keep the conversation going but not enough to actually reveal anything. You recognized it immediately.

You had worked with people like him before.

People who knew they were smart. Who didn't trust easily. Who lived in their heads more than in the real world. Who stayed five steps ahead, always.

You also knew that someone like him? He wasn't just naturally like this.

Something had made him this way.

You turned to Niragi next. And, oh.

It didn't take a trained professional to see that Niragi had shit going on.

But you were a trained professional.

And holy shit.

He was wound so tight. Every move was a defense mechanism—every word, every glance, every breath dripping with aggression. His hostility wasn't random; it was habitual. Built over years of... something.

You didn't need to know the details to know that he had been hurt before. Badly. Which was exactly why he was acting like this now.

Still, you didn't press. Not yet.

Instead, you just said, "You two seem... different."

Niragi scoffed. "No shit."

Chishiya's gaze flicked to you. "What gave it away?"

You shrugged playfully. "Just a hunch."

Niragi let out a dramatic sigh, leaning back into the couch. "So, what, you used to be a detective or something?"

You smiled sweetly. "A therapist, actually."

Silence.

"No." Niragi immediately sat up, despite the pain. "I'm out."

Chishiya's lips quirked in mild interest. "That makes sense."

You blinked at Niragi, concerned. "You shouldn't be moving so much yet—"

"No. No. I refuse to be psychoanalyzed."

"I wasn't going to psychoanalyze you." you said, smiling. "I mean, unless you want me to?"

Niragi looked at you like you had just suggested murder. "Absolutely fucking not."

Chishiya, meanwhile, was still staring at you. Thinking. You could practically see the gears turning in his head.

A therapist.

That was new.

That meant you weren't just naive. You weren't just blindly nice.

You understood people.

Which meant you understood him.

And that? That was more dangerous than any gun.

You just smiled. "Well, don't worry. You're safe here. I won't make you talk about anything you don't want to."

Niragi narrowed his eyes. Suspicious. "For real?"

"For real."

"...Fine." He relaxed slightly, though he still looked deeply untrusting.

Chishiya, on the other hand, was watching you even more intently now.

"You're not what I expected." he admitted.

You tilted your head. "What did you expect?"

"Someone either stupid or desperate."

You laughed softly. "Well, I'm neither."

Chishiya's lips quirked again. "Clearly."

Niragi groaned. "Oh my god, don't start liking her."

Chishiya barely reacted. "I don't like anyone."

"That's what I'm saying!" Niragi waved a hand at you. "She's too nice. It's suspicious."

You just smiled. "I guess you'll have to deal with it."

Niragi muttered something under his breath, slumping back down. Chishiya simply watched you a little longer before finally closing his eyes, as if filing everything away for later.

You knew this was just the beginning.

But you weren't worried.

You had time.

Niragi was staring at the ceiling. Chishiya, ever the picture of nonchalance, had his eyes half-closed, looking as if he was two seconds away from slipping into a coma—not because he was exhausted, but because reality itself bored him.

"Are you two hungry?" you asked sweetly.

Nothing.

No reaction.

Not even a blink.

Chishiya didn't look at you, didn't acknowledge the question, didn't do anything besides continue breathing. Niragi, on the other hand, did react—just in the most Niragi way possible.

He scoffed. Loudly. Dramatically. As if you had just asked him whether he wanted to start a gratitude journal.

"You think we trust you enough to eat something you made?" he sneered.

You blinked. "Yes."

Niragi opened his mouth. Closed it. Squinted at you. "You say that like it's obvious."

"It is obvious." You stood up, stretching slightly. "You need to eat to recover. So, I'm making you food."

Still, no reaction. Neither of them moved. Neither of them agreed or refused.

Fine. That was fine. You weren't expecting a "thank you" or a grand speech of appreciation. You could tell exactly what they were doing—creating distance, keeping their guard up, making sure they didn't owe you anything.

You understood. Really, you did.

But that wasn't going to stop you. So, without another word, you walked toward the connected kitchen.

Immediately, Niragi's voice followed you. "Wait, you're actually cooking?"

"Yes."

"What the fuck?"

You didn't respond, already moving to the stove. The pot on the burner was already filled—leftover soup you had started earlier, still warm. You reached for a spoon, stirring gently, the scent filling the air instantly.

Chishiya didn't move or react, but Niragi? His head tilted the tiniest bit, like he was trying not to be obvious about sniffing the air.

You had to suppress a giggle.

They weren't going to ask for food. Oh, no. That would be too easy. They were too stubborn for that. Which was why you weren't going to wait for permission.

You kept stirring, the rich aroma of the soup spreading. It had been a while since you'd made something decent—soup was simple, easy, comforting. You weren't sure what these two had been eating before you found them half-dead, but judging by how they looked under all the blood and bruises, it wasn't much.

From the couch, Niragi groaned loudly, flopping dramatically onto his side. "This is so fucking weird."

"What is?" you asked, not turning around.

"This." He waved a hand vaguely in the air. "You. Cooking. This whole 'let's take care of the random half-dead guys I found' bullshit."

You hummed. "Would you rather I had left you there?"

"Yes!"

A beat of silence.

Then Chishiya: "No, he wouldn't have."

Niragi snapped his head toward him. "Shut the fuck up."

Chishiya didn't even look at him. "You're still here, aren't you?”

"I can leave anytime I want." Niragi shot back.

Chishiya finally turned his head slightly, expression unreadable. "Then why haven't you?"

Niragi froze.

You hid a smile, still focused on the soup. That was interesting.

Chishiya wasn't just observant—he was ruthless about it. He had no problem pointing things out that other people would avoid saying out loud.

You liked that.

Meanwhile, Niragi—having zero rebuttal—just let out another frustrated groan and dropped back against the couch. "God, I hate you."

"Likewise."

They both hated each other. And yet... neither of them had moved.

You smiled to yourself.

You gave the soup another gentle stir before ladling it into bowls. The warmth of it curled through your fingers, and as you turned around, you caught them.

Both of them.

Niragi and Chishiya.

Trying so hard to look uninterested.

They didn't move. Didn't react. But their eyes flickered—just barely—to the steaming bowls in your hands.

You knew they were hungry. Obviously. Their bodies were recovering, their wounds were fresh, and it had probably been days since they'd eaten properly.

But they weren't going to say anything. Because admitting that they needed something? Admitting that they relied on someone else?

That was too much.

You smiled sweetly. And completely ignored their bullshit. You walked up to the small coffee table in front of them, placing the bowls down with a gentle clink.

"Eat." you said simply.

Silence.

Chishiya stared at the soup, then at you, his expression blank but his mind obviously racing.

Niragi? He just glared.

"I never said I wanted it." he muttered.

You just smiled. "I know."

More silence.

The soup smelled amazing. You could tell, because Niragi kept sniffing the air without realizing he was doing it. Then he scoffed, rolling his eyes. "You think I'm just gonna eat it because you put it in front of me?"

"Yes."

His eye twitched. "You're so fucking weird."

"I've been called worse."

Then, with a dramatic, suffering sigh, Niragi grabbed the bowl.

Victory.

Chishiya? He didn't reach for his immediately. Instead, he just... watched.

Watched you.

Watched Niragi.

Watched everything.

And then, after a long, slow moment, he finally—casually, effortlessly—picked up the bowl and took a small sip. He didn't react. But you noticed the way his fingers curled slightly more securely around the ceramic.

He liked it.

He just wasn't going to say it.

That was fine.

You weren't expecting thanks. You weren't expecting gratitude.

All you wanted was for them to eat.

And now? They were.

You smiled to yourself and returned to the kitchen, humming softly as you cleaned up. Behind you, on the couch, Niragi grumbled under his breath, still half-muttering insults at Chishiya between bites.

Chishiya didn't respond. He was too busy finishing his soup.

By the time you were done cleaning up the kitchen, the two of them had nearly finished their soup.

Which, really, was hilarious considering how Niragi had dramatically refused the idea of eating anything made by you just minutes ago. And yet, there he was, scowling at the spoon in his hand

Chishiya, on the other hand, had barely made a sound as he ate. No complaints, no praise, just silent, efficient consumption like he was running off of pure logic.

Food = survival. No need to make a fuss about it.

You approached them again with your usual warm smile, hands clasped together.

"So," you chirped. "since you're both fed and alive, this place has plenty of bedrooms. You don't have to keep sitting on the couch all night."

Chishiya barely reacted.

Niragi, however, snorted. "Oh, do we not?"

"You don't." you confirmed sweetly. "I can show you some, or you can just go find one yourself if you're that fed up with me."

Chishiya's lips twitched at that. Just the faintest smirk. He liked the way you phrased that—the fact that you knew exactly how they were acting and didn't even take offense to it.

Niragi just clicked his tongue, leaning back on the couch. "Tch. Like hell I trust any of the bedrooms in this creepy rich-ass place."

You tilted your head, amused. "You trust the couch more?"

"I trust myself more.”

"You're literally injured."

"I'd rather sleep in a ditch than get comfortable here."

You shrugged. "Okay, the door is open too."

Niragi stared at you. "Are you actually kicking me out?"

"No." you giggled, "I'm just giving you options! You seem like the kind of guy who doesn't like being told what to do."

Niragi made a face. "Oh, fuck off."

Chishiya finally stretched his legs slightly, glancingat you. "How many rooms?"

"Enough."

Chishiya's eyes flicked up to the ceiling, as if calculating the space. His mind was always working—always analyzing. You could practically see the gears turning.

"Five." he guessed.

You beamed. "Close. Six."

"Hm."

Chishiya's gaze flicked toward the hallway leading to the bedrooms. You knew exactly what he was thinking.

A house this big? With this many rooms? Still fully intact?

It wasn't just luck. There was a reason you had secured a place like this. Chishiya was too smart to ignore that.

Niragi groaned. "Whatever. I call the biggest room."

You smiled, hands on your hips. "You'll have to find it first."

Niragi's eyes narrowed. "...Is that a challenge?"

Chishiya sighed, rubbing his temple. "You don't even have the energy to stand."

"Shut up." Niragi grumbled, but didn't actually get up.

You laughed softly. "The rooms are all clean, and they even have actual beds. Fresh blankets, too."

Niragi rolled his eyes. "Oh, you're really selling this, huh?"

You smiled, unbothered. "I'm just being nice."

"Too nice." Niragi crossed his arms. "What's your deal?"

Your smile softened slightly, but you didn't answer right away.

Instead, you tilted your head and asked, "Do you think people only do things when they want something in return?"

Niragi hesitated. Which, really, said everything.

You just smiled. "You should go rest. Both of you. Your bodies need it."

Chishiya exhaled through his nose, standing up first. "I'll find one myself."

You nodded. "Go ahead."

He didn't move immediately. He just stood there for a moment, looking at you—not suspiciously, not threateningly, just... observing. Then, finally, he turned and disappeared down the hall.

Niragi groaned again, shifting to lay down on the couch. "I'll move later." he muttered.

You just smiled. "Okay."

And with that, you walked away, leaving them to their own devices. Because at the end of the day? You weren't forcing them to do anything.

You were just offering something they weren't used to.

A choice.

A home.

~

You knew exactly which rooms they had chosen.

It was easy.

You'd left all the doors open on purpose. So when two of them inevitably ended up closed—well. That told you everything you needed to know.

One belonged to Niragi.

One belonged to Chishiya.

And since you weren't in the mood for an argument right now, you decided to check on Chishiya first.

So, with a soft knock, you pushed the door open.

Chishiya was there, as expected, sitting on the edge of the bed. His posture was relaxed, but not lazy. A picture of calm, but never vulnerable.

His eyes flicked to you immediately when you entered. Always alert. Always watching.

You smiled. "Hey."

He didn't say anything—just gave you a slow, expectant look, like he was already calculating the reason for your visit.

You stepped further in, crossing your arms lightly. "I wanted to let you know that the shower works."

Chishiya raised a brow. He didn't look surprised, per se—just mildly intrigued, like he hadn't expected you to bring it up.

You continued, ever sweet, ever patient. "I set up a system with rainwater, and I got a boiler working with solar energy. You can take a hot shower if you want."

A pause.

Then, finally, he spoke. "You built that yourself?"

You grinned. "Impressed?"

Chishiya's lips curled just slightly. "Not quite."

You rolled your eyes playfully. "Right. Because nothing impresses you."

His smirk widened a fraction. He wasn't denying it.

You sighed dramatically, shifting your weight onto one foot. "Anyway, just be careful. The system's pretty stable, but I still don't trust it completely. So don't do anything stupid and end up flooding the place."

Chishiya tilted his head, as if amused by the idea. "I'll try to contain myself."

"Please do." you said, voice sickly sweet. Then, without missing a beat, you added, "Oh, and—"

You smiled. Soft. Kind.

Too kind.

Fake kind.

"—don't even try anything. My door's closed."

Chishiya blinked.

Because you weren't just sweet.

You weren't just kind.

You were smart.

You knew exactly the kind of person he was.

And you planned accordingly.

Chishiya exhaled through his nose, the closest thing to a chuckle you'd heard from him yet. He leaned back slightly, resting his arms against the bed, studying you.

"You think I'd try something?" he mused, tone light, teasing.

"I think you're smarter than that." you replied easily.

A beat.

Then Chishiya's lips curled into a slow, knowing smile. "Interesting."

You simply gave him one last sweet, angelic smile before turning toward the door. "Goodnight, Chishiya."

And with that, you left.

The door clicked shut behind you, and as you walked down the hall, you knew—knew without even needing to see—that Chishiya was still smiling to himself.

You were a smart girl.

And he liked that.

When you arrived there, you took a deep breath before knocking on the other door that was closed.

You knocked twice. A beat of silence, then—

A loud, dramatic groan from the other side.

"What now?"

You rolled your eyes and pushed the door open.

And there he was—Niragi, in all his irritating glory, sprawled across the bed. One arm behind his head, shirt half-ridden up, legs spread out just enough to be annoying.

He squinted at you lazily. "Oh, it's you."

"Of course it's me."

He groaned again, rolling onto his side in the most dramatic way possible. "What do you want? I'm tryna sleep here."

You crossed your arms. "I came to tell you the shower works."

That got his attention.

Niragi blinked. "Wait. What?"

"I have rainwater stored, and I managed to get a boiler running with solar energy." You tilted your head. "You can take a shower. A hot one."

Niragi stared at you like you had just told him the sky was made of gold. Then, suddenly, he sat up—grinning, wild and sharp, like a fucking hyena.

"Oh, shit." he snickered, running a hand through his now let out hair. "You mean I don't have to smell like blood anymore?"

You sighed. "I mean, it's up to you."

He stretched his arms, cracking his neck. "Damn, maybe you really are an angel. Here I thought you just liked keeping dirty, injured men in your house for fun."

You gave him an unimpressed look. "Yes, Niragi. That's exactly what I do in my free time."

He grinned. "If you wanted me in your bed, babe, you could've just said so."

You sighed again, rubbing your temple. "That is not what I said."

He leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees. "I mean, I get it. Who wouldn't wanna sleep next to me? I'm warm, I smell good—"

"You literally just said you smell like blood."

Niragi ignored that. "—and I'd keep you safe all night."

You raised a brow. "You can't even stand up properly."

He grinned wider. "That just means I'd have to let you do all the work."

You leaned against the doorframe, tilting your head slightly, eyes glittering with something playful. "That's so cute. You think you'd survive me?"

His grin froze.

Just for a second.

Then, he laughed. Loud. Unfiltered. Amused as hell. He licked his teeth, watching you with way too much interest. "You like playing hard to get, huh?"

You shrugged. "You like losing?"

That hit.

That hit hard.

Because for the first time, Niragi actually shut up. Just for a second. Just enough for you to know that you had won.

"...Fuck." he muttered, almost to himself. "You're fun."

"I know." you said sweetly. "Now go take a shower before I change my mind."

You turned to leave—but of course, Niragi couldn't let you go without one last word.

"Hey, babe?"

You paused in the doorway, looking back.

He smirked. "Your door open, or closed?"

You grinned.

"Locked."

And with that, you walked away—leaving Niragi sitting there, grinning like an idiot.

~

You knew something was wrong the second you stepped into the hallway the next morning.

The air felt off.

It wasn’t a sound—because they weren’t making any. It wasn’t even an instinct, though you had plenty of that.

It was just that deep, unshakable feeling you got when you walked into a room and realized you were one second away from witnessing homicide.

And that’s exactly what was happening.

You turned the corner into the kitchen and—yep. There they were.

Chishiya and Niragi.

Standing there, dead silent, staring each other down like two wolves deciding whether they wanted to rip each other’s throats out before breakfast.

Niragi moved first.

Not towards you. Towards Chishiya.

One sharp, sudden step—his whole body tensed like he was about to fucking lunge, like he was about to do something stupid.

And Chishiya? Didn’t move an inch. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t react. Just stood there, perfectly still, perfectly calm, eyes half-lidded like he was already five steps ahead of this entire situation.

Which, knowing Chishiya? He was.

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

You cleared your throat. Loudly.

Both of them turned to look at you.

You raised an eyebrow. “Are we committing murder before or after breakfast?”

Niragi snorted. “That depends. You making anything good?”

You sighed, stepping into the kitchen like you weren’t walking into a fucking crime scene. “Depends.” you said, moving past them to grab some supplies. “Are you two gonna be civil, or am I cooking while dodging bullets?”

“Can’t make promises.” Niragi muttered, side-eyeing Chishiya.

Chishiya, for his part, said nothing. Just shifted slightly, tilting his head, gaze dissecting.

Watching Niragi. Watching you.

You exhaled through your nose. Of course.

They weren’t going to make this easy. That was fine. You didn’t expect them to.

Instead of scolding them, instead of trying to force anything, you did what you did best.

You read the room.

Because here’s the thing—people like Niragi? They didn’t start fights for no reason. Not really. He didn’t wake up thinking, hm, who should I try to kill today?

No—he woke up looking for control.

And Chishiya? Chishiya didn’t wake up looking for a fight. But he sure as hell wasn’t backing down from one, either.

So this wasn’t just aggression.

This was posturing. This was two men who hated each other testing the limits of the space they now shared.

Which meant there was only one thing you needed to do. You needed to give them something else to focus on.

So you got to work. And most importantly? You talked.

Not to them, really. Just enough to keep them engaged without forcing them to cooperate.

“So,” you hummed, cracking an egg into the pan. “how’d you two even end up in that mess I found you in?”

Silence.

Niragi scoffed. “That mess?” He snorted. “Try a fucking bloodbath.”

You hummed. “Right, yeah, I noticed that part.”

Chishiya finally spoke. “Tch. Not surprising.”

Niragi rolled his eyes. “Oh, here we go—”

“I’m just saying,” Chishiya mused. “it’s not like you’re particularly good at self-preservation.”

“Fuck off, rat.”

You sighed. “Okay, so still not cooperative.”

Niragi gave you a shit-eating grin. “Aww, babe, don’t take it personally.”

You shot him a look. “I don’t. I just think it’s hilarious that you two can’t even answer a simple question without fighting.”

Chishiya sighed, rubbing his temple. “We’re not fighting.”

Niragi grinned. “Yeah, baby, this is just how we talk.”

“Oh, so this is bonding, then?” you deadpanned.

Niragi shrugged. “Something like that.”

You just shook your head, flipping the eggs.

It didn’t matter. They were calming down. They were still distant, still purposefully difficult, but that was fine.

You weren’t trying to fix them.

You were just making breakfast.

And in a world that had taken so much from them, that was probably the best thing you could do.

You let the conversation die out for a bit, focusing on not burning the eggs while the two grown, violent men in your kitchen continued their silent pissing contest.

They weren’t trying to kill each other anymore, but you could feel the tension, the way Niragi kept throwing sideways glances at Chishiya, and the way Chishiya pointedly ignored him like he wasn’t even worth the energy.

God, you were babysitting.

And yet.

And yet.

You liked them.

Not in a wow, what great, emotionally well-adjusted people kind of way.

More like a wow, these are the worst fucking people I’ve ever met and yet I kind of want to keep them alive kind of way.

Which was dangerous. So dangerous.

But you never did have much self-preservation.

So you tried again.

You flipped the eggs onto a plate, moving to grab some bread, and—casually, like you weren’t expecting much—asked: “So. You still didn’t answer my question.”

Chishiya hummed, eyes lidded, uninterested.

Niragi, on the other hand, sighed so loudly it was like you had just asked him to recite the entire history of the universe.

“What fucking question?” he muttered.

You raised an eyebrow. “How you two ended up bleeding out in an alley.”

Silence.

Not the murderous kind of silence, at least.

Just hesitation.

Which meant you had them.

You pressed. Gently.

“I mean, was it a fight? Did you get jumped? Were you two just being dumbasses?”

Niragi scoffed. “The last one.”

Chishiya sighed. “Obviously.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

You fought back a grin. “Okay, so what happened?”

Niragi clicked his tongue, leaning against the counter. “Tch. Got caught up in some shit.”

You hummed. “What kind of shit?”

Niragi grinned, sharp, mean. “The fun kind.”

Chishiya sighed. “The kind that almost got him killed.”

“The fun kind.” Niragi repeated.

You blinked. “You have a very different definition of fun than I do.”

He laughed. “What, you don’t like a little bloodshed?”

“I don’t like dying.” you said simply.

Chishiya gave you a slow, approving look. “Smart girl.”

Niragi rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Guess we just ran into the wrong people at the wrong time. Shit happens.”

You tilted your head, thoughtful. “Shit does happen.” You turned, handing them plates of food. “How many days do you have?”

This was a test.

A subtle one.

If they lied, you’d know. If they refused to answer, you’d know.

Because you were a therapist.

You knew people

And right now, you knew that Niragi was stalling. Clicking his tongue, leaning back, making a big show of thinking about it.

“Hmmm.” he hummed, exaggerated. “Why do you wanna know, angel? Wanna trade?”

You smiled, too sweet. “No, but I would like to know if you’re about to drop dead in my house.”

Niragi laughed. Loud, sharp, amused as hell.

Chishiya, on the other hand, watched you. Studied you. Then, finally, he spoke “Seven.”

Your eyes flicked to him.

And there it was.

Honesty. Cold, simple, factual honesty.

Chishiya had seven days.

You looked at Niragi expectantly.

He groaned, rolling his eyes. “Ugh, fine. Five.”

You clicked your tongue. “You should be more careful.”

Niragi snorted. “What, you worried about me, sweetheart?”

You shrugged, turning back to your own food. “I just don’t wanna clean up a corpse in my living room.”

Chishiya huffed out a quiet laugh. Niragi grinned.

You let the conversation settle after that.

They weren’t cooperative. Not really.

They didn’t trust you. Not completely.

But they answered you.

And that was enough.

For now.

Because you had a plan.

Because right now, in your apartment, you had two wild animals sitting at your table.

One too smart for his own good.

The other too reckless for anyone’s good.

And you were about to leave both of them unsupervised. On purpose. Because you knew exactly what you were doing.

You grabbed your bag, casually tossing a few supplies inside—knife, flashlight, extra cloth, some food. Nothing crazy. It wasn’t going to be a long trip. At least, it shouldn’t be.

Niragi was watching you.

Not subtly.

At first, he just glanced. Quick, uninterested, shoving food into his mouth like a fucking caveman.

But when you grabbed your coat?

When you slung your bag over your shoulder?

That’s when he actually looked.

He raised an eyebrow. “Uh… babe?”

You hummed, fixing the strap. “What?”

“Why the fuck are you getting ready like you’re about to head out?”

You blinked at him. “Because I am?”

Silence.

“The fuck do you mean you are?”

Across from him, Chishiya didn’t react much. He just tilted his head slightly, observing. Like he was just as curious, but not as dumb as Niragi, so he wasn’t about to react like a fucking child.

Niragi, however, had no such restraint.

He squinted at you. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

You sighed. “Out.”

“Out where?”

“To find some supplies.”

He scoffed. “Tch. You’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re seriously leaving me and—” He gestured vaguely to Chishiya. “this asshole alone in your house?”

Chishiya blinked slowly. “You’re a child.”

“And you’re a rat.” Niragi turned back to you. “Seriously, you’re leaving?”

“Yes, Niragi.” You threw some light, pretty pink clothing around your shoulders. “I need to go out. I need supplies. I need—” You waved vaguely at the door. “shit.”

He scoffed again. “Tch. What kind of shit?”

You shrugged. “Just things. Food. Bandages. Stuff to keep you two from dying.”

Chishiya hummed. “How responsible.”

“Right?” you quipped. “I should get an award.”

Niragi wasn’t laughing. He wasn’t mad, but he wasn’t happy either. Because despite the smug, cocky, overconfident asshole persona—there was something else.

Not concern, no. That wasn’t his style.

More like… uncertainty.

Like he didn’t like the idea of you going out there alone. Not because he cared. No, no, that’s ridiculous.

(At least, he’d tell himself that.)

But because in his fucked-up, messy, unhinged brain—

He didn’t trust the world.

And the idea of you walking out there, all soft and sweet and not a complete fucking psycho like him, probably didn’t sit right with him.

Which is why he leaned back in his chair, sucking his teeth.

“Fine.” he muttered. “Then I’m coming with you.”

You blinked.

Then laughed.

Actually laughed.

“The fuck is so funny?” he snapped.

You shook your head, still grinning. “You can barely fucking walk, Niragi.”

He bristled. “The fuck I can’t.”

You tilted your head. “Oh, yeah? Stand up.”

His eyes narrowed.

Chishiya actually smirked, sipping his tea. “This will be fun.”

Niragi ignored him. Instead, he grumbled, planted his hands on the table, and pushed himself up—only to sway immediately.

Yeah. That’s what you thought.

You crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow. “Go on.”

He glared. “I just need a second.”

“Uh-huh.”

Chishiya chuckled.

“You two are both fucking awful.” Niragi muttered, lowering himself back into the chair.

You smiled. Sweet. Almost mocking. “But I’m right.”

He rolled his eyes, but didn’t argue.

You exhaled, adjusting your bag. “I won’t be long.”

Niragi muttered something under his breath, and you almost asked what—but you let it go.

Instead, you turned to Chishiya. He was still watching. Quiet. Unreadable. Like he was picking you apart in his head.

You stared back. After a moment, you spoke.

“You gonna be okay here?”

He blinked once. “I should be asking you that.”

You smirked. “You don’t have to.”

His eyes glittered.

Just a little.

He didn’t say anything else.

You turned back to Niragi. “Try not to kill each other before I get back.”

“No promises.” Niragi muttered.

You sighed. Yeah, you figured.

Then, without another word, you grabbed your coat, pushed open the door, and stepped out, leaving them alone.

And you knew exactly what you were doing.

~

You had fully prepared yourself for the worst when you returned.

Maybe bloodstains on your fancy-ass couch. Maybe the kitchen completely destroyed. Maybe—just maybe—one of them lying dead in the hallway while the other stood over him. But, to your genuine surprise, the house was still standing.

And even more surprising?

So were both of them.

Chishiya was sitting at the kitchen counter, flipping through a book he absolutely did not own before today.

And Niragi—who you fully expected to have done something violent or reckless in your absence—was sprawled out on the couch, one arm hanging over the side, his whole body screaming bored as hell but refusing to admit he waited for you to come back.

They were separated, obviously.

Like two kids on a road trip who couldn’t sit next to each other without starting a war.

But they were here.

Waiting.

Which meant they had not murdered each other.

Wow. Okay. Good.

You stepped inside, kicking the door shut behind you. “Huh. You didn’t destroy the place.”

Chishiya didn’t look up from his book. “Disappointed?”

You snorted. “Surprised.”

Niragi let out a loud, exaggerated sigh.

“Tch. Not my fault.” he muttered. “There was nothing to fucking do.”

You shrugged, setting your bag down on the table. “Well, good news.”

You started unpacking, pulling out a few cans of food, some extra bandages, a couple of bottles of water and a small, cute plushie. You placed it right on the coffee table, right between the two of them.

Silence.

Niragi squinted at it. “What the fuck is that?”

You blinked at him, deadpan. “A bear.”

He continued staring. Like he couldn’t process the fact that, after scavenging for supplies in an almost post-apocalyptic nightmare world, you had come back with a tiny stuffed bear.

Chishiya just hummed. “Interesting choice.”

You grinned. “I thought it was cute.”

Niragi made a face. “What, you gonna start collecting those now?”

“Maybe.” you mused, organizing the supplies. “Maybe I’ll decorate the place.”

Chishiya smirked. “Would be an improvement.”

Niragi snorted.

You gasped. “Excuse me?”

Chishiya didn’t even look up. “I’m just saying, the place is a little sterile.”

“Sterile?”

“You know. Too clean. Too perfect.”

Niragi stretched, cracking his neck. “Yeah, like a rich kid’s hideout.”

You huffed. “I like my place nice.”

Chishiya turned a page. “Mm. Suspicious.”

You rolled your eyes, finally plopping down onto the chair across from Niragi.

“Anyway.” you sighed. “I got supplies. Food. Water. Bandages.”

Niragi snatched a bottle off the table. “Tch. Took you long enough.”

You snorted. “Oh, I’m sorry, did you have somewhere to be?”

He smirked, taking a sip. “Nah. Just missed you, babe.”

You smiled. “Aww, how sweet.”

Niragi’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “You could make it up to me, you know.”

“Oh? And how would I do that?”

He leaned forward, voice dropping. Suggestive. “Ever heard of a stress reliever?”

Chishiya closed his book. Loudly.

You placed your elbow on the table, chin in your palm, and matched Niragi’s energy effortlessly.

“Hm.” you mused, tilting your head. “I have. You should try one.”

Chishiya snorted.

Niragi blinked. Then laughed. Loud. Sharp. Fucking amused.

You leaned back, stretching your arms. “Anyway. You two can fight over the bedrooms again or sleep out here, I don’t care.”

Niragi scoffed. “Tch. Like I’d share a room with this asshole.”

Chishiya smirked. “I wouldn’t subject you to my presence.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

You liked them.

“So, Chishiya.” Niragi drawled, stretching his legs out. “Tell me something.”

Chishiya did not look up. Did not react. Which only fueled Niragi’s need to annoy him.

“If you’re such a genius,” Niragi continued. “how the fuck did you end up half-dead in a ditch, huh?”

Chishiya finally blinked. Slowly. Then sighed.

“Same way you did.” he murmured, flipping through the book again. “By not giving a shit.”

Niragi grinned.

“Oh, no, see, I wasn’t the one who thought I was better than everyone.” he said mockingly. “I wasn’t the one who thought I was too smart to get my ass kicked.”

Chishiya hummed. “No, you were just too dumb to avoid it.”

Niragi laughed. Sharp, amused, but not fucking friendly.

“Cute.” he smirked. “For someone who thinks he’s so fucking smart, you really do make a lot of mistakes.”

Chishiya finally looked up. “And for someone who acts like he’s the biggest in the world you sure ended up in the same situation as me.”

Niragi’s grin twitched.

Your head hit the back of the chair.

Here we go.

Because of course Niragi wasn’t going to let that go. “You wanna repeat that, rat?”

Chishiya tilted his head. “Oh? Are your ears failing, too?”

Niragi sat up.

Even injured, even weak, even not at full strength, he still looked like he was one second away from throwing hands.

“You little—”

“No.”

Your voice cut through the air like a knife.

Both of them froze.

Not because you were loud. Not because you yelled.

But because you didn’t.

You were calm.

Too calm.

And that? That was scarier.

“If you two want to keep fighting,” you said, voice light, but firm. “then you can take your asses out of here.”

Silence.

You crossed your arms.

“You can either calm the fuck down,” you continued, sweet, but threatening. “or you can leave. I don’t care which.”

You watched them.

And you knew.

This was the moment.

If they argued—if they scoffed, if they fought back—then that was it.

They were leaving.

They’d be gone.

But if they stayed quiet—if they didn’t say a word—that was their answer.

That was them choosing to stay.

And for people like them? For people who never admitted they needed anyone, who never relied on anybody but themselves, this was big.

Chishiya sighed.

He looked back down at his book.

Didn’t say anything.

Didn’t argue.

Didn’t leave.

Niragi clicked his tongue, leaned back on the couch, and mumbled, “Tch. Whatever.”

Didn’t say anything else.

Didn’t leave.

They were staying.

[psychotrenny]

Imperialism is the single greatest contradiction of contemporary global society, and one of the most visible ways this manifests is the treatment of Nationalist Bourgeoisie in the third world. It doesn't matter how "moderate" such personalities or regimes are, how few concessions they give to the local working class or even how willing they are to make measured compromises with the Imperial Core. For daring to stand up against Imperialism, to offer the slightest resistance against the wholesale looting of their nation, any sort of Bourgeoisie Nationalism will earn the hostility of Imperialist Nations.

During the Cold War this hostility was somewhat muted due to fears over the greater threat of Communism, with Imperialists displaying tolerance towards or even co-operation with various anti-communist Third Way regimes that weren't seen as too threatening. But with the fall of the USSR and apogee of US Imperial Hegemony, this tolerance largely vanished. Just look at how Saddam Hussein went from a US ally to enemy #1 in the span of a few years, not because of any substantial change in policy or orientation but simply because he outlived his usefulness. Now as US power continues to wane while that of the anti-Imperialist camp waxes this attitude may change, but based on their current actions most US and their allied policy makers are still stuck in this turn-of-the-millennium mindset of total US superiority.

It's also a very bad practice to evaluate things in terms of their metaphysical "goodness" or "badness"; you're much better looking at the context it occupies and how it interacts with those conditions. Which is why you generally shouldn't celebrate the destruction of a genuine anti-Imperialist project regardless of its other contradictions. Whatever exploitation was occurring nationally, things will only get worse when that exploitation is taken to an international level