#why did the stock market go down today

[usanews24the]

Stock market today: Dow, S&P 500, Nasdaq clobbered as Fed, Powell signal fewer rate cuts in 2025 read more....

[alaminmcr]

Wharton’s Jeremy Siegel says stock sell-off is ‘healthy’ as cautious Fed gives investors a ‘reality check’ See More...

[lacroixqueen]

i'm so chill but you make me jealous jealous deadpool x fem!reader, 18+

Summary: deadpool sees you on a date with another guy and loses his shit lol

Pairing: jealous deadpool x fem!reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings/Tags: jealousy, possessive, angst, brat, noncon, dubcon

You were trying to figure out the fastest way to get out of this dumpster fire of a date. This is what you get for putting yourself out there, by the fervent advice of both your mother and entire social circle. So you went ahead and downloaded a dating app out of sheer boredom but also a tiny glimmer of hope. After quite a number of left swipes and a small handful of rights, you somehow wound up across the dinner table with… er, you forgot his name already. 

But you knew he worked in finance. Or was it accounting? Anyways, he was currently explaining the intricacies of the stock market to you, and the appetizer hasn’t even come out yet. And you realized that you couldn’t care any less. 

“I.. have to go to the bathroom,” you said, standing up quickly and pushing in your chair. Your date almost didn’t seem to notice, giving you a half-hearted acknowledgement and then continuing to drabble on to himself about cryptocurrency. 

Without another word, you darted to the nearest exit of the restaurant, finding yourself on the freshly rained-on sidewalk. You always loved the smell of the concrete after it had just rained. 

Your heels made a satisfying click-clack sound as you briskly maneuvered your way down the street. You opened up your texts to see if you missed anything during the god-awful date, and lo and behold, was a message from none other than Wade.

“Love the dress,” it read. 

You glanced behind you, then side to side, and once you turned back around, there he was, leaning against the side of the cornerstore. 

“What are you doing here?” you asked, barely turning towards him before directing your attention back to your phone and continuing to walk past him. 

“Ohhhh, so it’s ice cold today,” he commented, following right behind you. “I love that flavor.”

“What do you want,” you said while texting a friend about how disastrously the date went. “I am just going home.”

“Well, I was just walking by when I caught a glimpse of you through the window of that Italian restaurant back there,” the assassin replied. “Speaking of which, what was on the menu? I mean that place looked upscale! Like they probably sprinkle gold dust on their pasta instead of parmesan.”

It was an Olive Garden.

“To be blunt, I honestly forgot,” you responded. “I didn’t even eat anything.”

“Well, why did you leave so early?” he pried, this obviously piquing his attention now.

“I-I felt sick,” you lied, your intonation increasing as quickly as your apprehension. “Can we just change the subject, please?”

“Oh ho ho,” Deadpool chuckled, as if he struck gold. “That bad? I mean, I didn’t get a great look at the guy, but from what I saw, he wasn’t terrible-looking. Also, he wore a fleece vest. I mean, that’s just the height of fashion, you really can’t get any better than that.”

“Are you having fun?” you said, rolling your eyes as he continued to mock your absolutely colossal defeat of an evening. 

“Oh, absolutely,” Deadpool laughed. “The other point of contention is why the hell you decided to pull out this absolute banger of a dress for your first date with Mr. Finance Bro there and not ours?”

“That was not a date,” you enunciated, pressing your finger into Wade’s chest. “That was a drunken one night stand that will never happen again and that you even promised to never bring up. It was stupid and nonsensical and I can’t believe it even happened in the first place.”

“Oh come on, Y/N, you’re going to break my heart,” he whined, clasping his hands together like a needy puppy. “I, for one, thought that night was very special. I mean, you even told me that you could see yourself fall-”

Before he could say another word, you grabbed him by the hand and led him into a dark alleyway so that innocent bystanders wouldn’t hear you scream.

“Stop! Bringing that up!” you exclaimed. 

Deadpool was shocked his casual mention of the event elicited such a strong emotion from you. “Okay, okay, jeez.. calm down.”

You sighed, letting him go and turning your back to him. 

But he didn’t let you. Not even for a second. Before you could even react, he grabbed you by the neck and slammed you into the wall. 

You gasped, your hands instinctively reaching up to clasp over his while his grip only tightened over your carotid. 

“Besides, you know that I only followed you here because I wanted to see more of you in this ridiculously skimpy dress..” his voice darkened as he continued to choke you like a helpless animal. “I mean, look at you. That thing practically clings onto you like skin! If you weren’t such a tightass I would have ripped it off of you by now..”

He unsheathed his pocket knife and ran it across your lacy scarlet choker, over the thin straps of your slip dress, and onto your chest. He traced the outline of your cleavage with the dull edge, and then slowly slid it down over your taut stomach. 

You were trying to gulp up air for just one breath, but his hold was unrelenting. 

“I mean a red mini dress, are you fucking kidding me?” he snarled, his blade gently brushing against the garter belt on your right thigh. “Wearing my favorite color? With some other guy? This has got to be orchestrated at this point, Y/N.”

“Wade.. please..” you begged, lips beginning to quiver. Regardless of how much he joked around with you, he scared you when he was angry. 

He finally released you, allowing you to cough and gasp for your first breath. 

“But you know of course I wouldn’t kill you, I mean who do you think I am, a psychopath?” his tone immediately brightened up the moment he saw how much you feared him. “I just like watching you not being able to breathe is all. It’s so cute.”

 After you finally caught your breath, you stared daggers down at the vigilante who stood before you. 

“Listen, Wade,” you said. “I understand you are not exactly pleased with the current state of affairs. But this isn’t entirely up to me. And I’ve told you this a million different times.’

The assassin let out a dramatic, almost cinematic sigh. “Yes, I know, Your mother wants you to date ‘someone sensible with a stable career and not a psycho killer’. Which is perfectly understandable! I get it. I mean, I would probably think the same thing if I lived in the suburbs and made tuna casserole in my spare time.”

“Wade..” you shook your head and rolled your eyes. “You know it’s not that simple.” You walked up to him and gently lifted up his mask to reveal only his lips. 

He didn’t hesitate to grab you by the waist and pull you so close that your body was pressed up against his. 

You stood up on your tiptoes in your heels, stabilizing yourself by holding onto his broad shoulders. You weren’t exactly sure what you were doing, but you knew something within you just wanted to kiss him. But you also didn’t know if this was the right idea. 

The plump part of your lip gently brushed against his. The smell of your watermelon lip gloss was driving him crazy. He started to breathe heavily, and if another second passed where you weren’t kissing him he would say fuck it and just do it himself. 

You felt his hot breath in your mouth, and you felt your arms twist around him like they knew exactly where to rest themselves. Like they have done this before. 

“I’m so stupid for this,” you sighed, as you felt his lips beginning to close over yours. 

He smiled smugly into the kiss, quite pleased with himself over the hard fought victory. Without another moment of hesitation, he grabbed the back of your thighs and lifted you up without much effort at all. He walked over to the wall, pressing your back softly against it. 

You wrapped your legs around his waist automatically, kissing him like you would die if you stopped. You felt his tongue wrap desperately around yours. He was aggressive, hungry even. He wanted you all to himself, not some fucker in a fleece vest or anyone else for that matter. 

You knew you would regret your decision in the morning. And that no matter how hard you tried to deny it, you would come running back to him. Every single time. 

[dreamescapeswriting]

Surprise! ~ KSM

⤜WORD COUNT: 1.4K

⤜GENRE: fluffy, stressed out Seungmin finally getting a break, poor baby just needs his partner, angst (I guess) with a fluffy ending, cute, THIS is the song used xx

⤜PAIRING:  Seungmin x GN!Reader

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - January 2024

⤜MASTERLIST

A/N: So I wrote this as a non!Idol piece as I thought it would be a lot more fun to write, I really hope that’s okay, if not feel free to give me a message and I can work on fixing it for you 

The car came to a halt and your boyfriend let out a small whimper, all morning you had been overly secretive about something. For the first time, in a long time, he'd managed to get a weekend off from work and you'd decided that it was going to be your chance to do something nice for him. Something no one else in the world could have, well, maybe some people but not many.

"Is the blindfold really necessary?" He quipped with a slight laugh behind his voice, you glanced over at him as you parked up and made sure he had no idea where he was.

Ever since he'd woken up that morning you'd been dropping hints about what the two of you were going to be doing today but he seemed oblivious to them all right now. It started with the music you'd had on while he woke up, a little day6 music to start the day off with, but he'd brushed it off as nothing since you worked for the band and loved their music almost as much as he did. Breakfast that morning had been pancakes in the shapes of the Day6 logo but you weren't exactly skilled in pancake making so they mostly ended up looking like a normal pancake with a tail.

"Yes, this is a surprise. Remember?" You let out a small laugh and got out of the car, Seungmin shook his head from inside of the vehicle. Today was going to be special for Seungmin since you knew how stressed out he'd been lately.

Stressed to the point where he'd missed a few dates with you, something you were mad about when it first happened but when you saw how much work was putting on his plate you began to let them slide. It must not have been easy working in the stock market business, he'd come home and pass out in bed but some nights it wasn't even the bed, it was the sofa. 

 Last week had been the final straw for you. It was the tenth time you'd woken up in the morning to find your boyfriend hadn't even been able to make it to the bedroom before passing out on the sofa sleeping there instead of in a warm bed with you and you were finally doing something about it.

"Why can't you just tell me what we're doing?" Your boyfriend quizzed as you helped him out of the car and began walking him in the direction of the arena doors, the guards nodding and winking at you. Everyone knew the plan and seemed to be sticking to it.

The band you worked for had a gig later tonight so right now they were practising inside of the arena, well, they would be and you knew how badly Seungmin had wanted to go to a concert for years now and you were finally going to make it happen.

"You'll see, you have to trust me." You whined, slowly leading him through the hallways and down toward the main stage as he complained the whole time - jokingly of course. Seungmin trusted you to the moon and back, maybe even more but he did, if you said he was going to enjoy it then he knew he was going to.

"Are you ready?" You whispered from behind him, his back tingling as your breath caught in his ear.

All morning he'd been trying to guess what it was that you could possibly be doing for him, he ruled the beach out since the forecast was supposed to rain all day and he knew he wasn't at his parents since you'd driven too long for that. It was a little surprising that you wanted to do anything today, he knew you had work later and assumed you wanted to relax until then but you'd insisted on taking him out.

"More than ever!" He yelled out, buzzing with excitement as you slowly began to remove the blindfold from his eyes, Drums started to play and instantly he recognised the song and Seungmin's eyes flew to you, this was what you'd been planning?!

"What?!" His voice cracked, going up in pitch as you giggled a little, the music playing louder as the boys began to sing to you both. Seungmin's head spun around so fast to face the boys you were afraid it was going to come off his shoulders.

"Your own private concert." You whispered to him, smiling as you watched your boyfriend's face lighting up the whole time he sang along to the song. The whole place was empty besides you and Seungmin, and a few guards were spotted around the floor cleaning up and making sure everything was prepped for later. 

"It's hard, each day is the same. I wanna fling everything away, and just play. Don't stop me, I'm going out." You both sang along, swaying side to side the whole day, YoungK winking at you as he continued to sing.

"This must have taken a lot of persuading," Seungmin told you as he wrapped his arms around you from behind, swaying with you on the spot his entire body relaxing as he let himself feel the music and for the first time in months he felt at peace.

"Nah, YoungK was pretty happy to do it." You explained, leaning your head into your boyfriend's chest as you watched the members. The truth was, it had taken a lot of convincing and you might have had to give up some of your holiday days to sway it with your boss but all of it was worth it as long as it helped Seungmin unwind. Besides, the members had seemed 100% behind you when you'd explained the reasonings behind the mini concert and they were all excited to meet Seungmin since you hardly ever stopped talking about him.

"I know it's not the best way to relax...but I thought you might enjoy it." You were starting to feel a little doubt about whether or not he might have liked this. It was his first day off in a while, what if he'd wanted to stay inside? 

"Yn, this is perfect." He hushed out, your whole body relaxing as you heard him and you smiled, cuddling into his chest as the next song started to play.

"I love you," He whispered, placing a gentle and soft kiss on your jawline, your whole body heating up at the action earning a chuckle from the boys as they continued to sing.

"I can't believe you did that for me," Seungmin was still buzzing after the mini-setlist the members had performed and you giggled a little at him. Everything that had stressed him seemed to be wiped from his brain tonight,

"I'll do anything for you, you know that Sungie." You ran your hand over his cheek and he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

"A surprise like this needs a proper thank you," He told you with a giant grin on his face, you giggled a little excited to see what he had up his sleeve for you.

"Oh? Like what?" You ran your hands over his chest, his eyes on you the whole time as the grin he was plastering across his face slowly turned into a smirk,

"Oh I can't tell you that, it has to be a surprise," He chuckled evilly making you curse him out, gently slapping against his chest in protest.

"Seungmin, you can't." You groaned, shaking your head at him, Seungmin chuckled even more though. He knew how much you hated surprises and he was planning on doing it all week long next week.

"I have a week off next week, I can surprise you all week long."

"A whole week?!" You squealed out, your hands clutching his shirt as he laughed at you, it was cute to see you looking so excited. The week off had been for you, he knew he'd been working so much he was missing important dates and time with you. Something he was going to make up for for the rest of his life. There was no excuse for missing dates.

"I took time off, I've missed too many dates with you and I'm going to make up for it."

"O-Oh, I can't wait." You giggled, as he kissed the top of your head before taking your hand in his and going to meet the members who had told you to go and meet them back stage.

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[centrally-unplanned]

Stumbled on this 1992 interview with Michael Crichton about his 90's Japan Scare novel Rising Sun, which is very fun. For one, Crichton is a Perotist!

Question: “Rising Sun” makes a strong argument that Japanese business is unfairly aggressive and Americans are foolish to have tolerated this unfairness for so long. Is that a decent synopsis? Answer: Not exactly. Let me just restate it. In the immortal words of my hero, Ross Perot: “It’s not a two-way street. It never has been a two-way street. It’s not their fault.” It’s our fault.

His 90's "Declinist America Needs Protectionism" vibe really comes through in the whole interview, you forget these days due to Trump how much of a Type of Guy that was and how intellectual-coded it could be in that era of dominant "unreflective" neoliberalism.

Anyway, we certainly did talk about race in the 90's!

Q: Do you consider the Japanese racist? A: [...] We’re talking about a historically inward-looking nation, an island nation, largely monoracial. That’s a good structure in which to have the rise of feelings of superiority about your own people as opposed to other people in the world. Of course, these broad statements can’t be applied to the individual Japanese person. One of the things that Americans, as a multiracial society, feel is a tremendous sensitivity to racial comments of all kinds. In the book, one of the things I tried to say to Americans was: Hey, while you’re tiptoeing around the race issue, your competitors are a monoracial country, very much aligned, and tend to hold in common beliefs that would astound you.

Narrator: America did not, in fact, "tiptoe" around the race issue.

But to be clear it isn't like this is super wrong or anything - 90's Japan absolutely was a "racist country" if such a thing is possible, most countries are, and its geographic isolation and relative lack of modern immigrants at that time certainly did contribute to that. What I instead find amusing is the idea that this is a threat to the US; the implication is that, because Japan is a racist country, when they rule the world economically they will in some way impose that racist worldview upon us. Which, I don't really think that is how free trade works? Might have watched too much Gunbuster on this one buddy.

We of course have the classics of Japan Scare:

Q: Has the continued decline in the Japanese stock market, their falling real-estate value and shrinking foreign investment caused you to rethink your views of Japanese-American business dealings? A: No, not at all. I’ve not seen figures on what the growth of the Japanese GNP will be this year. You hear stories about economic distress in Japan, but you see that the growth rate is going down to 4% from 5%. If this country had a 4% growth rate, we’d all feel like we were pumped full of testosterone.

-😬😬😬-

Narrator: it did not stop going down at 4%.

What i love most is how you see the same exact arguments about American "economic weakness" you see today, but with the dates/countries swapped around:

Q: What allowed us to contribute so willingly to our own weakening? Greed? Altruism? Shortsightedness? Arrogance? A: (following a large sigh) You have to look back at broad time periods. It’s possible now to argue that Americans have had no increase in real earnings power since 1962. Some economists would dispute that, and set the date at 1973. Either way, the country is in a steady, consistent and ongoing decline. Why? That’s an extended conversation. 

Obviously since then US living standards have gone up quite a lot! You definitely *cannot* argue that they did not go up since 1962, that is in fact an insane claim. You can't argue they haven't gone up since the 90's either. Even in Japan they have, they definitely have in Europe, economies grow in general. And of course the classic "American companies are all gambling now":

No one invests in a company anymore, in the way it was done in the ‘50s, say, because they believe the company is good. They buy because they think the price of the stock will rise or fall. What this means is that American managers are obliged to manage in the short term. There’s no incentive for an investor to hang on with a company for the long term. In Japan, savings--up to a certain point--are tax free. Why is that not also true in America? You want savings? Then don’t tax it as ordinary income.

I will leave posting a list of the most high-value companies over the past 30 years as an exercise for the reader; you don't need it, you already know them. But I certainly see versions of this dancing around today, and you definitely saw it in 2008 all over the place.

No real skin off Crichton's back, to be clear - prediction is hard, he isn't an economist, most will be wrong. Just funny how the ideological churn keeps spinning.

[babygirl-diaz]

Buck is bad about stocking up his own kitchen so Eddie took it upon himself to do it and he usually just lets himself into the apartment whether Buck is home or not and does it for him.

That is until one day, Tommy hears noises downstairs while he’s at the loft and Buck is fast asleep, snoring. He goes downstairs with the only thing he could find for a weapon… an empty fishbowl which was sitting on Buck’s bedside for some reason. He finds Eddie casually whistling while taking bites of what looks like a Pop Tart in between while stocking up Buck’s pantry.

“Uh Eddie?” He calls out and puts the fish bowl down.

“TOMMY! Hey!” Eddie says cheerily like Tommy just didn’t find him breaking into Buck’s apartment

“What are you doing?” Tommy asks confused

“Oh! Stocking up Buck’s shelves!” Eddie replies with the excitement of a 10-year-old.

“Why?” Tommy asks again.

“Because he’s bad at doing it himself!” Eddie’s enthusiasm just doesn’t seem to falter.

“Did you go to the farmers market today?”

Tommy turns to see Buck descending the stairs.

“You know I did! And I got you your favorite Asian pears,” Eddie tells him. “Oh and I got you some honey, Tommy. Heard you had a sore throat.”

“Uh thanks?” Tommy says unsurely. He was still so confused.

“Aw you’re the best, Eddie!” Buck goes downstairs and steals a pear from the bowl.

“Wait… is this a normal thing for you two?” Tommy asks

“What is?” Buck asks, confusion obvious on his face.

“Eddie breaking into your apartment to stock up your kitchen?”

“Yeah!” They both reply with a shrug of their shoulder.

Tommy shrugs as well and joins them. He’s come to realize that he’ll just never understand their weird friendship.

[lowkeycasanova]

private lesson

Plot: Sanji is a huge flirt, talking about doing private cooking lessons with him. And to his surprise, you actually agree.

pairing: opla!sanji x fem reader

word count: 1.8k

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

Early one morning, the Straw Hat Pirates anchored their ship on a new island. And as usual, they were eager to explore new uncharted territory. Sanji was left with finding groceries to stock up on.

He wandered through the bustling market. A hand in his pocket and a freshly lit cigarette in the other as he took in the vibrant colors and sounds. The exotic spices, fresh fruit, strange seafood, and beautiful women all piqued his interest.

Heavy on the beautiful women.

Sometimes he had to stop and remind himself why he was there in the first place: finding ingredients for the crew's meals and any other culinary inspiration.

He bought his usual main meats and vegatables and a few things to experiment with later, but what really grabbed his attention was the aroma wafting from a nearby restaurant.

**

You were the sous chef for the restaurant you worked at. But make no mistake, you worked your way up to that position. Starting on dishes, then the plate line, and finally, you got to cook in the kitchen and craft dishes yourself. You also went to culinary school for a bit, so you did have some formal training under your belt.

The head chef was getting older and had a few health problems, so you'd pretty much take over. It was impressive at your young age. Although it could be stressful at times, you were nice to everyone. Everyone had a lot of respect for you.

It was going on brunch time and surprisingly, it wasn't all too busy. So you spent your time behind the counter at the bar, wiping down the area and trying to perfect a new dish.

The bells above the door jingled. You looked up from what you were doing and made eye contact with a young blonde guy, about your age. He smiles at you. You give him a small smile back, but not sure if it was directed at you in the first pace.

He exchanges a few words with the host and makes his way to the empty seat at the bar across from where you stood, setting his bags down next to it and getting comfortable.

"Hi, welcome in." you greeted him. "What drink can I get you started with today?"

"Just a glass of water, love"

You'd never been called that before. He definitely wasn't a local.

"Here you go." You poured him the water with a friendly smile and slid him the menu. "Let me know when you're ready to order, or if you have any questions."

Sanji looked at you with geniune interest, taking in your professionalism and the surroundings. He couldn't help but be captivated.

As his eyes pursed the menu, his eyes occasionally drifted back to you, the beautiful woman behind the counter who caught his attention. The menu was filled with great dishes, each sounding more enticing than the last.

After a few minutes, he looked up and caught your gaze again. "I'll try the sobrasada brioche."

"Excellent choice." You write his order on your little notepad that you pulled from your back pocket and relay it to the kitchen.

**

"This is amazing." he beamed. "The texture adds a nice touch."

"I'm glad you like it." you chuckled as you handed a drink to another man who came and sat at the bar a few seats away.

"You know, I didn't catch your name, love. I'm Sanji." his eyes twinkled and he flashed you yet another radiant smile.

"I'm Y/N. Nice to meet you."

"And you as well, madam."

A blush creeped up on your cheeks. It was somewhat unusual to be called "love" and "madam". There was a certain charm to it that you couldn't deny.

"So Sanji, you're not from around here, are you?"

He leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms, taking a second to answer. "My crew and I anchored here. I was looking around, trying to find ingredients for our meals, as I am the cook. But I couldn't resist the alluring aroma that was coming from this place. And I'm glad I didn't."

You opened your mouth to respond when a youngster from the kitchen came out looking for you. Excusing yourself from Sanji, you turned to the boy and allowed him to go on and talk.

He just wanted to get in extra hours and wondered where you could place him.

"Cool, thanks chef." he said after you two came to an agreement and went back between the double doors.

Sanji wasn't the one to eavesdrop but he couldn't help but hear that last part.

"Chef?" his eyes lit up when you turned in his direction again, referring to the title the boy gave you.

"That's me." you smiled proudly. "Well...sous chef."

"It's a pleasure to meet someone so beautiful and talented.

You nervously looked down at your hands. He was direct.

“Have any signature dishes?”

“Well,” you started. “I’m working on this dish.” You grabbed the plate off to the side that held the small entree to show him. “It’s a lobster roll that I want to add for the seasonal brunch menu. It’s…not quite right yet.” you admitted with a bit of self-critique in your voice.

His eyes locked on the dish and he studied it intently and then brought his gaze back to you. "Mind if I try it?"

"Sure, go ahead."

He took a bite, his expression thoughtful as he savored the flavors. "It's exquisite. However, it is missing a certain...kick. And I'd be happy to help you, if you like."

You tossed the dish rag over your shoulder and put your weight on your forearms, leaning closer. "You? In my kitchen?"

Sanji smirked. "If you'll have me."

It was intriguing. He seemed genuine and he definitely had knowledge based on how he spoke and his reaction. You contemplated for a moment, weighing the potential benefits of having him help.

"Alright," you finally replied, with a playful glint in your eye. "But you're not getting paid."

**

After you instructed another member of the kitchen to watch the bar in your place and getting confused looks as Sanji followed your lead through the area, you both spent the next two hours working, experimenting with ingredients and techniques. He took control, and you let him. The prep area was a mix of different fixings. You worked diligently beside him, chopping the garlic like he asked, your hands moving in unison.

The garlic, along with some white wine vinegar, egg yolks, hot water, salt, olive oil, and spice, he drizzed the sauce (which had a mayo like consistency) onto the dish.

"It's a saffron aioli." Sanji described.

You took a bite. It definitly added flavor as well as color. With a touch of elegance.

"You're incredible!" you told him. "You should write a cookbook."

"Well, you know, a true artist never reveals his secrets. But, I could be talked into offering some private lessons." he replied, leaning against the counter with a mischievous look in his eye.

"Oh gosh." you groaned. "That was so cheesy."

He chuckled. He couldn't help but flirt. Of course, he thought you were gorgeous, but he also saw a lot of himself in you. Someone who seems to love food the way he does and the appreciation for little details.

"Sure."

Sanji blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"Yes, I'll take you up on your offer."

He was a bit caught off guard. A woman has never given into his advances. He was always met with soft or harsh rejection everytime.

You knew he was being coy, but if he was actually serious, you could learn from him.

More like, you could learn from each other. What's the harm in that?

He smiled. "You won't regret it. Cooking is a pleasure that's meant to be shared."

The restaurant started to get busier, so you and Sanji had to wrap up the impromptu cooking session. It was time for him to go as well as the crew was probably wondering where he was at this point. On a napkin, you gave him a description of your house and how to find it with the plan to see each other again the following night. He put is safe in his pocket.

**

You said your goodbyes and Sanji went back and met up with the crew again. He couldn't help but gush about the encounter he had at the restaurant. Luffy listened with interest, Zoro couldn't care less, and Usopp and Nami teased him.

The next morning, he found himself eagerly anticipating what was to come. Although Nami was the skilled navigator, she was also the avid shopping connoisseur and offered to help Sanji find something suitable to wear.

She had an eye for fashion and wanted to make sure Sanji made the best impression possible. Together, they scoured the markets, looking for the perfect attire.

**

Sanji made his way to your house, per the instructions you provided. After hearing a soft knock on the door, you opened it swiftly. And there he stood.

Clad in a blue sweater and black pants, holding a bouquet of blue flowers to match, two loaves of french bread, with his blonde hair neatly covering his eye and signature cigarette in his mouth. He looked so adorable, you had to admit.

His eyes sparked in enthusiam, mixed with anticipation and hope that you would appreciate his effort.

"You clean up nicely." you complimented, inviting him in and taking the flowers and bread from him. "These are beautiful, thank you."

"My pleasure. Your outfit is nice too."

You look down at your regular ole tshirt and shorts then back at him. "Oh, it's just my usual." You weren't expecting anything fancy. But maybe that was just his style. "So, what do you have in mind?"

"Anything. Just tell me what you want."

At first, you didn't know what to expect from this "private lesson". You were a little nervous and were expecting to say no to anything you weren't comfortable with, if it came to that.

But the night seemed to fly by. The kitchen was productive and filled with laughter. You knew that in due time, Sanji would eventually leave with his crew, but it was nice to have an experience like this.

With the ingredients you had, Sanji managed to make a cigala fideua. A dish that consisted of prawn, baby squid, and garlic aioli served on top angel hair pasta. He was going to serve it with rice but the pasta was your idea. You also sauteed shishito peppers tossed with sea salt as a side dish.

"Mhmm, this is my new favorite thing in the world." you say, mouth full of deliciousness.

Sanji sits across from you at the table, a glass of wine in his hand, smiling at you.

"What?" you raise an eyebrow after you swallow.

He shrugged. "There's nothing better than watching someone enjoy food."

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

a/n: someone on tik tok said they had the sanji cookbook and posted pictures of it. it was there where i got the idea for his outfit.

from @/surogori8 on tik tok

[hannahbarberra162]

Struck Twice By Lightning, Chapter 7

18+ MDNI

On Ao3

I feel like stepping foot on the Red Force gives you +100 drinking XP.

Since the Red Force had only left your island a day ago, you knew the approximate location of the surrounding islands. You spoke with Building Snake and told him that if they wanted you to make sake on board, the best island for supplies would be nearby that day. Given the enthusiasm of the crew for alcohol, it wasn’t surprising that the ship was immediately re-routed to the island you mentioned. 

In the late afternoon, you were walking the streets of the familiar island with Hongo. You had been to this island many times before to market and sell your sake. You purchased the items you needed for the sake making process and Hongo carried them for you, like the gentleman he was. You wanted to speak with one of your best customers, so the two of you made your way to Friendly’s Tavern. The tavern was run by one of the most curmudgeonly and cantankerous old men you’d ever met, and today was no different. You tried your best to put on a pleasant face, since he bought a lot of your stock. The tavern had some customers drinking already, since it was a little after dinner time. The low murmur of chatter continued while you and Hongo walked up to the counter. 

“Hi Archie! Long time no see!” you smiled broadly.

Archie looked up from wiping his counter with a rag. He looked at you like you’d presented him with a dead rat.

“Girl.”

You kept trying to make headway. “I was on the island and thought I’d stop by to say hello. How are you doing?”

“Hello.” Archie did not answer your question, but this was actually an animated conversation between the two of you. You were doing well.

You didn’t hear the talking behind you quiet down, as you were trying to get Archie to say more than one word at a time. Otherwise, you would have dodged the arm that was slung around your waist.

“Archie! How are ya, old man?” Of course, as if right on cue to irritate you, was Shanks.

“Emperor Shanks! So glad to see you again!” The old man said with a bow. He was happy. No, he was practically radiating joy. Whatever magnetism Shanks produced was working in spades on this old codger.

“I see you already know my wife, are you trying to steal her away from me?” Shanks gave you a squish and gave Archie a charming smile. You scowled.

“Girl, that true? You his wife?”

“Technically yes but-”

“Why didn’t you ever say so? I’ll buy every drop of sake you make!” 

 “It must have slipped my mind,” you said with saccharine sweetness. Shanks leaned his head against yours in what would be seen as a sweet gesture.

“See?” he murmured to you, “I’m good for business.” You weren’t looking at him but you knew - you knew - he was smirking.

“I don’t need your help,” you hissed at him. “I get plenty of business on my own.” 

“Once I tell customers it’s Red Haired Shanks’s sake, they’ll buy it for any price.” You nodded at the idiotic bar owner with a smile. Inside, you were furious. You had worked hard to make a name for yourself - without him. Now it was going to be known as Shanks’s sake once the word got out. And there was no putting that cat back in the bag. 

Still, you didn’t want to contradict or diminish Shanks in front of others - that wasn’t the kind of person you were. Sure, you’d give him hell in private or just in front of the crew, but you’d never say a word against him in public. He was an Emperor, after all, and his reputation was important. 

You were tired of talking to this old goose and left the counter to go sit at a table. Whatever Shanks said to the owner made him laugh and give out bottles - of your brew - for the crew. Now felt like a great time to start drinking.

~~~~~

You were right, drinking was a great choice. Your sake was phenomenal, of course, and you were enjoying quite a lot of it. Evidently, the crew had been well received by the islanders previously because a crowd came to party with the Red Haired pirates. Some of the men were flirting with locals, some arm wrestling, and some just chatting casually. Shanks was off…doing whatever …you had lost sight of him, and didn’t care to find him. You were sitting next to Yasopp, Gab, and Monster, exchanging jokes and stories. You had relaxed a little and were feeling a pleasant buzz. You heard a distant din getting louder and louder.

“...just to exclude me!” A female voice was raging at Benn. You didn’t look over but you and your friends exchanged looks and started to listen in. Everyone liked a bit of drama now and again, especially when it was happening to Benn. For some reason, when he was involved, it was always amusing.

“We aren’t taking new crewmates.” Benn said to a young woman. 

“Is it because I’m a woman? Or that you think I’m weak because I’m a woman?” Ha! Benn was going to have to talk his way out of that one. This was getting good. You had a satisfied grin on your face.

“No, that’s not -”

“Because I see you have a new female crew member. She wasn’t here the last time with you guys.” Wait, why was she getting you involved? You didn’t do anything. You weren’t even actually a member of this stupid crew! Your smile started to falter.

“In fact, I bet I can beat her in a duel.” Oh no. No no no no. You tried to duck behind a laughing Yasopp, who was enjoying the escalating situation. Beckman was trying to calm the irate young woman, who just shouted louder. 

“If I beat her in a duel, I get to take her spot on the crew. Hey! Old lady! I challenge you - 

Don’t say it don’t say it don’t say it don’t say it - hey I’m not old - don’t say it don’t say it don’t say it don’t say it don’t say it don’t say it

“- to a duel, pirate’s rules!”

FuuuuuuuUUUUUUUUUUuuuuuuuck. Why couldn’t you just have one nice night?

You had to accept. Pirate’s rules meant that if you rejected her challenge, it would be a loss of reputation for the whole crew. You were annoyed at the situation and very annoyed at the woman. The bar was silent, waiting for your answer. You stood up, gave a scathing look to the young woman, and said “I accept.” The bar broke into a raucous cheer. You held up your pointer finger and the crowd hushed immediately.

“As you know, under Pirate’s rules, I as the challenged get to choose the method.”

The woman grinned wildly and laughed. “That’s no matter, I am as good with a sword as I am with a pistol.”

“I choose drinking contest” you said flatly. The crowd cheered even louder than before.

“Wh-what?” The girl looked around at the roaring crowd, unsure of what to do. “That’s not - that’s not something you can-”

“I can and I did. I can choose any method. If I wanted to, we could be having a spelling bee. Let’s get this over with.” 

A small table had been cleared and two chairs sat opposing one another. You sat down with a thud in one, arms crossed. This was such a waste of your time - and booze too. You glowered at Benn, even though it wasn’t his fault she had challenged you. He shrugged his shoulders, happy he didn’t have to deal with the lady anymore. While others were getting the glasses and alcohol, you spoke to the woman quickly. 

“Listen girl -”

“I am no girl, I am Tiffany of the  -”

“Ok, then shut up and listen, Tiffany. I’m gonna say this now before you get too drunk to remember. If you’re gonna make it as a sea-faring woman, you need to know the code.”

“I know the Pirate’s Code -”

“Shut. Up. Not the stupid fucking Pirate’s Code. The Code of the Daughters of the Seas. Rules for she-pirates.”

“Daughters of the seas is a myth. Captain Niamh is just a fairy tale for little girls.” Tiffany tossed her head back.

You grinned wolfishly. “I hope you say that to her face. Now, drink up Tiff.” You handed her the first shot, and took yours in hand. “Here’s to a massive hangover,” you said and downed yours. 

~~~

A few hours and many shots later, Tiffany was face down on the table. You took your last shot with ease, slammed the glass upside down on the table, and stood up. You raised your arms in triumph, and your crew applauded and whooped for you. Rockstar lifted you up on his shoulders as you took your victory lap around the bar, laughing and shaking patron’s hands. You were the winner, but you were also pretty drunk. OK, very drunk. You patted Rockstar’s head and asked for him to put you down. You ambled outside to get a breath of fresh air after all the heavy drinking. You were leaning against a brick wall, watching the moon, when someone joined in next to you.

“Hi Sh-Shanks. Come to congratulate me for saving the honor of your cr-crew?” You were slurring - not a good sign of things to come.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know.”

“I d-did. It was pirate’s ru-rules.” 

Shanks hummed in response. “How are you feeling?”

“Great. Never felt b-better.” Why was he being serious now, of all times? 

He stayed next to you, not speaking. You were in fact, not feeling great. Your head was starting to spin, and you wanted to lay down. You sank down onto your heels, using the wall as back support. You put your head in your hands, which only made things worse.

“Shanks? Sh-shanks?” You wondered if he had left.

‘I’m here.” 

“I th-think I n-need to leave.”

“Figured. C’mere.” He scooped you up to hold you, and you put your head in the crook of his neck. He was warm and smelled like pine sap, and you just wanted to roll up into him. He started walking towards the wharf with you in his arm.

“Shanks?... Thanks for carrying me.”

“You’re welcome.” You were quiet for a few minutes until you couldn’t keep your thoughts to yourself any longer.

“Shanks? I missed you s-so mu-much. I cried for-forever .”

“Is that so? We can talk more later.”

“OK.” A few more minutes passed in silence.

“Shanks? Are you m-mad at m-me?” You felt your eyes filling with tears.

“No, not at all. I just don’t… want to have this conversation now. I think you’ll regret it.”

“S-sometimes I regret le-leaving.”

“Mmm.”

“W-why are y-you being so nice to m-me?”

“Well, you’re my wife, after all.”

“Then may-maybe you can be my hus-husband again, after all.” You snuggled closer into Shanks's neck and closed your eyes, feeling more content than you had in years. You had a distant thought that this was a bad idea, but you couldn’t remember why. 

[aces-solace]

Favorite patient

Chapter one: Doctor visit

Warnings: inappropriate practice, flirting doctor/nurse x patient, I think that's all.

Moving is always annoying. No matter how old or young you are. It's especially annoying for me because my parents can't stand to be away from their 'precious baby' and practically begged me to stay.

Luckily I have friends who help. Did I say friends? I meant people I hang around because they help me, I don't like them. If I'm a fraction of a Second late to a hangout or can't go to it I'm suddenly a terrible person.

It's really annoying. At least they pay for me. I may hate using people but when they are as bad as these people I'll happily gold dig. Sure, it's not the best or healthiest thing to do but I think it's worth it.

Right now I'm sitting in a waiting room, waiting for the doctor to take me back. The bad part? I said I could hang out today and I genuinely could but when I called they said I had to make my appointment today or call a day I could make an appointment.

How terrible of me to prioritize my health over a hangout. I can hear their yelling already... I let out a sigh and take out my phone and I'm honestly not shocked to see that I have over 99 messages in my notifications.

Most of which being from the group chat. I sigh as I open it. A multitude of texts, most of which saying 'what the hell' and 'what the fuck', others saying what a bad friend I am.

I'll deal with it when I'm at home or something. I hear the click of a door handle turning and glance over, there I'm met with the view of a tall nurse with a white fitting that stops just short of her knees with black stockings and black high heels.

It seems like an outfit you'd find in a Halloween store marketed as a slutty nurse costume and I'm not complaining. Her eyes read over the patient's name, "Amias?" Fuck, that's me.

I stand up and make my way towards her, she gives me a look over and nods, "Follow me hun" She says, turning around and walking. I'm quick to follow her, "First time? Seeing doctor Gojo, I mean" "Mhm.. I recently moved here" I say quietly.

Starting and keeping a conversation has always been difficult for me. She nods and motions for me to stand on the scale to get my measurements. Once again, I obey her orders.

She sets the clip board down and walks towards me, measuring my height first, "I'm sure you'll love him" she says as she starts measuring my weight, messing with it until it is balanced. "How long have you worked with him?"

She laughs, "I've been friends with him since high school" if I wasn't jealous of him before I definitely am now. Since high school? Lucky. "Alrighty, go sit over there for me" she says, going over to the counter to write it down on her clipboard.

"I'm Geto by the way, sorry" She says, walking over to me. "Ah, it's fine.." I mumble, fucking hell. "Quiet one, aren't you?" She says with a smirk "sorry.." "don't be, I was just teasing hun"

She must be trying to get me to die of a heart attack. "I'm just going to ask you some questions and run some basic tests before I bring in the doctor" I nod. The questions couldn't have been any shorter. She basically just asked why I was here and about my history...

I was hoping to kill off some of my nerves. "Can I see your hand?" She asks, walking to stand at my side. I hold out my hand to her and she takes it, standing in front of me and slotting her leg between mine.

She is definitely trying to kill me. She clips the heart rate monitor to my finger and hums as she watches the numbers. "Nervous?" She chuckles "h-huh?.." "numbers are a little high hun"

She writes down the number and takes off the heart monitor, "I'll be back with the doctor in just a moment hun" I nod as she closes the door behind her. I'm so lucky my phone is on vibrate, if it wasn't I probably would've got hard.

I've never appreciated my 'friends' more. I fidget with my fingers while waiting for the doctor, somehow managing to calm down in the process. A knock on the door followed by it opening caught my attention.

A tall doctor with short white hair and (scarily) bright blue eyes greets me. "Well hello, Geto told me it's your first time seeing me" I nod, "mhm.." "Quiet, huh? From what she told me it's just a check up?" He asks, sitting in the rolling chair.

"Um, yeah" "alright, physical as well?" "Uh.. not today" "mkay! Well, let's get this started!" He gets up and walks towards me, getting close. Too close. The vibrations coming from my phone luckily help a lot.

I know they're pissed but they have no clue how helpful they are right now. "Breath in" I inhale, subtly digging my nails into the palm of my hand, "breath out" I exhale, the pressure I put on my palms lessening.

"Good boy, it all seems good" He's trying to kill me too. Great.

.

.

.

.

That doctor's appointment killed me. I'm honestly scared to check my phone, I'm surprised it hasn't overheated yet. I sigh and get into my car, luckily for me they are easy to please.

[th3casscad3]

Time Gone Wrong??

After Rummaging Through Your Dusty Old Attic, You Found A Box Full Of Your Grandparents Things From The 1930's. Curious, You Touch A Watch That Leads You Back To Its Time. Suddenly, You Find Yourself Standing On The Sidewalk Dressed In 1930's Fashion.. Warnings/Triggers: Dark Humor, Time Error, Going Back In Time, Time Traveling, Serial Killer Radio Host, G!N Reader. Characters: 3, 568 ************************************************************************ It Was A Boring Weekend, Around The Time Of Spring Cleaning. So Today, You Decided To Tackle Through Your Attic, You Figured You Could Turn It Into Something New. So, As You Were Going Through And Cleaning Out Old Boxes You Found A Box With Your Grandparents Name On It. Curious, You Decide To Pause Your Cleaning And Take The Box Downstairs To Your Living Room. You Find Picture Albums, Jewelry, Letters, And What Seemed To Be An Old Pocket Watch. However, It Held A Name You Didn't Recognized. You Read The Name Aloud " Alastor, 1930's. " You Admired The Silver Watch. It Had A Beautiful Silver Chain Connected To It And It Seemed To Be In Delicate Shape. When You Opened The Watch Up You Were Suddenly Sleepy. You Closed Your Eyes For A Quick Second. When You Opened Your Eyes Again You Found Yourself Outside..? You Were On The Sidewalk Passing People Who Were Dressed In 1930's Attire. Strange, You Thought. You Looked Down At Your Hand To Find The Watch Still In. You Placed It Around Your Neck. Thats When You Caught A Full Glimpse Of Your Attire, You Were Dressed Head To Toe In 1930 Apparel. " What The Fu- " You Said But You Were Suddenly Cut Off With The Laughter Of A Man. You Looked Up To See A Tall Man Standing In Front Of You. He Wore A White Buttoned Shirt With A Brown Vest And Bow Tie. His Bottoms Were Black Slacks And Dress Down Shoes. You Noticed He Wore Black Gloves. He Had Honey Skin And Beautiful Chocolate Eyes. He Wore Round Glasses And His Hair Was A Dusty Brown Color. " Pardon Me, I Had To Interrupt Your Little Breakdown But I Believe You Are Wearing My Pocket Watch, Yes..? " He Wore A Wide Smile And Stuck Out His Hand. You Simply Blinked At Him With A Dumbfounded Expression. " Are You Alastor 1930's? " You Blurted Out, A Bit Louder Than You Had Hoped. " Why, The One And Only! You Might Have Heard Of Me From My Radio Show! " His Smile Grew As So Did His Hand. " Now, Be A Dear And Hand Me Back What's Mine. " You Nodded And Gave Him Back His Watch. Something About This Man Put A Weird Smile On Your Face. You Noticed Him About To Leave When Suddenly You Asked " Wait, Alastor! Do You Mind Showing Me Around. I'm Quite New Here. " You Gave A Nervous Smile, Not Wanting To Be Alone In A Unfamiliar Place. Alastor Smiled And Wrapped Your Arm Around His, Guiding You Around The Town " Why You Must Have Came Here After The Stock Market Crash Of 1929! My It Was A Real Limb Pulling Experience, Ha Ha Ha! " You Gave Out A Laugh, Finding His Dark Sense Of Humor Funny. You Couldn't Help But Crack A Joke Of Your Own. " My, I Have Many Jokes About Unemployed People. Sadly, None Of Them Work! " Alastor Blurted Out With Laughter, He Then Spoke With A Wheeze " Wait Wait! How About This One, You're Not Completely Useless.. You Can Serve As A Bad Example!! " You And Alastor Both Found Yourself In A Fit Of Laughter. You Had Both Been Pulling So Many Joked You Didn't Even Realize You Had Finished The Tour. However, You Weren't Quite Ready For The Fun To End Yet. Just Then, A Question Popped Into Your Head. " Hey, You Wouldn't Happen To Know (Grandparents Name) Do You? " He Then Smiled Brightly And Nodded His Head Yes. " But Of Course! They Are Quite The Company, Such Good Fellows. Always Helping Me "Drop The Load" If You Know What I Mean! " " Quite, I'd Say They've Always Known How To "Kick The Bucket", Say You Wouldn't Mind If I "Crashed" At Your Place. " You Answered With A Sly Grin. " Why, Of Course Not. Say, Did You Hear About The Guy Who Got His Left Side Chopped Off..? He's All Right Now! "

[literallyveronixa]

still water + controlled rage + just put the fries in the bag + #nevergoon + sigma internet theory + womp womp + lil bro + hawk tuah + noradrenaline + 3,3 cuandadysproside + english or spanish + Anger issues + Balkan parents + Balkan rage + sigmadroline + jonkler laugh + german stare + sigma repect + crashout + the alpha leads the beta follows but the sigma walks alone + sigma phonk + pen island no spaces all caps + beethoven virus + i finna gyat + bluddy think he wesley slimeson + those who know how to flicker goon: + BOI + sigma sydrome + why so serious + chinese guy laughing + yns + 808 + bop + 1000 bottles of baby oil + bro think he carti + andrew tate rizz + fanum tax + no edging in class + ishowspeed turbulence + fortnite skibidi + bussin + blawg shlawg + bill collecter + goofy ahh quandale dingle + Skibidi gooning + Mongolian Munting + Indian felching +skibidi gyatt + rizz only in ohio + duke dennis + did you pray today + livvy dunne rizzing up baby gronk + sussy imposter + pibby glitch in real life + sigma + alpha + omega + male + grindset + andrew tate + goon cave + freddy fazbear + colleen ballinger + smurf cat vs strawberry elephant + blud + dawg + shmlawg + ishowspeed + a whole bunch of turbulence + ambatukam + literally hitting the griddy + the ocky way + kai cenat + fanum tax + garten of banban + not the mosquito again + bussing axel + in harlem + whopper whopper whopper whopper + 1 2 buckle my shoe + goofy ahh + aiden ross + sin city + monday left me broken + quirked up white boy busting it down sexual style + goated with the sauce + john pork + grimace shake + kiki do you love me + huggy wuggy + nathaniel b + lightskin stare + biggest bird + omar the referee + amogus + uncanny + pizza tower + portuguese tuah + zesty + kumalala savesta + quandale dingle + glizzy + rose toy + ankha zone + thug shaker + morbin time + dj khaled + sisyphus + oceangate + shadow wizard money gang + ayo the pizza here + PLUH + nair butthole waxing + t-pose ugandan knuckles + family guy funny moments compilation with subway surfers gameplay at the bottom + nickeh30 + ratio + opium bird + cg5 + mewing + fortnite battle pass + all my fellas + gta 6 + backrooms + gigachad + based + cringe + redpilled + no nut november + F in the chat + i love lean + looksmaxxing + social credit + bing chilling + xbox live + mrbeast + kid named finger + better call saul + i am a surgeon + hit or miss i guess they never miss huh + i like ya cut g + ice spice + gooning + fr we go gym + kevin james + josh hutcherson + metal pipe falling + Lithuanian respect moments + Venezuelan water polo + those who know + mango phonk + adrenaline + flow state + Hawk Tuah Respect + noradrenaline + balkan rage + Jonkler + Sigma rizz + still water + German stare + Russian frown + winter arc + ksi new song + still prime + Jamaican rage + Brazilian whistle technique + Canadian laugh + Norwegian smoldering + Locked in + Logan paul + ohio + Argentinian aggravation + Indian sigma respect moments + morrocan stock market + ancient skibidi toilet technique + North dakota stare + Switzerland sacred battle techniqueLithuanian Respect Moments + Venezuelan Water Polo + Those who know + Mango Phonk + adrenaline + flow state + Hawk Tuah Respect + noradrenaline + Balkan Rage + Jonkler + Sigma Rizz + Still Water + German Stare + Russian Frown + Winter Arc + KSI'S New Song + Still Prime + Jamaican Rage + Brazilian Whistle Techniuqe + Canadian Laugh + Norwegian Smolder + Locked In + Logan Paul + Ohio + Argentinian Aggravation + Indian Sigma Respect moments + Moroccon Stock Market + Rare Fish Market + Ancient Skibidi Toilet Technique + North Dakota Stare + Switzerland Sacred Battle Technique = Those who know 💀💀💀☠️☠️☠️

please leave me alone. i fear for my safety.

[maebys-delivery-service]

Timing: Current Location: Outside Maeby's "Apartment" Feat: @mortemoppetere & @maebys-delivery-service Warnings: None Summary: Emilio's newest case leads him to Maeby's.... fire escape?

Sometimes, people called him about strange occurrences. Emilio wasn’t sure if this was a typical expectation of private investigators or if Axis had gotten something of a reputation for their willingness to work strange cases — could have been either, or some mixture of both — but he didn’t really hate it. People asked interesting questions, and it could be almost fun to search for the answers. He’d never admit it, but it gave him something of a rush. These days, he was closest to happy when he had something worth figuring out.

This particular case seemed to be something in that vein. A client had gotten a package with what turned out to be a cursed artifact inside. They’d managed to remove the curse in question — they were a skilled spellcaster, and someone he hoped to keep in his back pocket as a potential contact if this case played out well — but they wanted to know where the package had come from. If someone was out to get them, they’d reasoned, it was better to know who that someone was. Emilio had been more than happy to take on the case, especially when the spellcaster offered to pay half up front. 

He’d done a bit of digging so far. A few shady business owners who’d been willing to let him take a look at their security cameras in exchange for favors later, a little old fashioned snooping, a couple of stops in the liquor store for mostly unrelated reasons, and here he was, standing outside an abandoned theater that seemed to be the residence of a courier who delivered shit like this. The job market in Wicked’s Rest was a strange one. Propping against the wall, he waited for the kid to appear. It didn’t take long. He’d been there a minute, maybe two when she slipped down a fire escape, package in hand. He approached her with a nod. “Maebelle Knot?” His accent curled uncertainly around the name. “Hoping to ask a few questions.”

— 

Maeby liked when the world was quiet. Hearing aids turned almost off, just the gentle hum of whatever music today felt like. It was a classical sort of day. All cellos and violins. Deep cascading rhythms, charging off and dancing along the melodies. The morning had thus far been a peaceful affair. One delivery, then a big wait until her next pickup. Maeby even had a chance to go home, stock up on road snacks and take a quick cat nap. 

(Lord knows she wasn't sleeping well at night anymore. What with all visions of great monsters, gnashing teeth, hard scales, and terrible things she was to become.) 

It was only on the return, going back from her restful little nest that some stranger broke the placid pleasantness. Maeby scowled at the words she couldn't quite hear, but the lips that looked an awful lot like they were saying their name. She did not know this man. He had not earned the right to call her by her full name. But the fact that he knew it at all wasn't a good one. (Unless he was saying something else entirely, perhaps Bay Hell Nod?) Maeby glanced sidelong towards the end of the alley, a quick consideration on how hard it would be to bolt past a guy like this. 

Why was he here? Who the hell was he? 

She opted for something else, feigned ignorance. “Sorry–” she pointed towards her ears and the matte plastic that stuck out even amongst the piercings and whatnot. “Don't know directions to any sable pond.” Maeby embodied a rather lackluster approximation of apologeticness and stepped to the side, gripping her longboard tighter as she made for the exit. 

—

She was younger than he thought she’d be. He hadn’t been able to get an exact age in his research — given the state of where she was living, he doubted she’d signed a lease for him to pull — but she looked around Nora or Wynne’s age, give or take a few years. She looked about ready to bolt, too, and Emilio really hoped she wouldn’t. There was no way in hell he’d be able to keep up with her. His bad leg flared up with a brief flash of pain at the mere thought of it, like the limb itself was warning him against the concept of anything more intense than a casual stride. If she ran, he’d have to come back another day, stake out the theater over and over and over again until she grew tired enough of his presence to speak to her. 

Luckily, she didn’t run right away. Instead, she pointed to her ear — he didn’t know what the plastic was — and said something that didn’t make sense. It took a moment for him to put two and two together, to connect the thing in her ear to the nonsensical response to his question. He thought of Jonas, who required Emilio to look directly at him and speak slowly, enunciating in ways that often felt unnatural with his accent. He could do that for this kid, too. The problem was, he got the feeling she was intentionally misunderstanding him.

Gritting his teeth, he stepped in front of her again, fishing his phone from his pocket and typing on the screen. Need to talk to you about something. He flipped it around so the words were facing her, expression neutral. “I can talk,” he looked her in the eyes as he would Jonas, spoke slowly and carefully, “or I can type. Typing will take longer. I have plenty of time. Something tells me you have less.”

—

Man, this would have been a wonderful time to turn into a great big man eating monster. Maeby itched at the back of her neck. Shifting uncomfortably as the rough patch there seemed to spread with her unease. More scales, but not enough to do anything with. Still it was kind of dumb to think like that, the kid chastised herself. The monster she was turning into was the one that ruined her life. It was the reason guys like this were probably looking for her. 

He didn't look like a cop. Maybe he was… the guy who owned the theater? Or worse, maybe her parents had somehow figured out where she was. Sent someone to drag her back. And she'd never get a cure before the worst happened. Before she turned into a monster and ate them all. 

Mr. Whoever was talking slowly. Over enunciating and pulling out his phone to type on. Great. Maeby’s scowl turned farther south. Souring more and more as it looked like this was a conversation she might actually have to have. A long sigh rolled from her chest and up and out. She carefully twisted the dial on her aid till the volume of the world matched something like ‘normal’ and the music all but faded away. “What.” Not exactly a question, not an invitation, either. If he had something to say, he better spit it out. 

—

She looked uncomfortable, and Emilio forced himself not to give a shit. If she was out here delivering cursed objects to people, he needed to get to the bottom of it for her sake as much as for the sake of the people who her deliveries were affecting. He knew firsthand what a cursed object could do to someone; memories of the cursed necklace that sent him to the roof of his apartment building gripped him by the throat, reminded him of where he might be now if Teddy hadn’t shown up to drag his drunk ass to their shitty houseboat. Shit like this was no joke. Uncomfortable or no, he needed to make her face it.

Her expression shifted, stormy look clear on her face. She seemed to recognize that Emilio wasn’t going anywhere, and that was good. That would save him a lot of time. He was a stubborn piece of shit, but his life was a lot easier when he didn’t have to be. He preferred being able to get things done without resorting to a shouting match outside an abandoned theater, especially when said shouting match was with a fucking kid. 

So it was a relief, really, when the kid reached up to the hunk of plastic in her ear and did something that seemed to make her hear him a little better. It was a relief when she demanded to know what he wanted. Even her clear irritation came as a relief in its familiarity; Emilio knew what to do with that far better than he did with most other emotions. He pocketed his phone and crossed his arms over his chest, tilting his head slightly with a nod. “You deliver things.” He tried to speak clearly, even though he thought whatever she’d done with her ears meant she could hear him now. He didn’t want to give her an excuse to drag this shit out. “Yes? You delivered one to a guy a few blocks from here. A, uh…” He struggled to find the word, fingers tapping against his arm uncertainly. “Box. With uh, dancers.” Hopefully, she’d know what he meant.

—

Mr. Sinclair was going to get a sternly worded letter at this rate. Some kind of big complaint. Possibly even a condemnation. The not-cop was asking about her deliveries, and that sent her mind from concerned to cranky. It was bad enough that the old vampire bossed her around and made her run halfway across the city just to turn around and go to the other side for these special deliveries, now Maeby had to deal with some angry customer or whatever. 

“Don't know what's in them. Not my job. I just put them where the package says. All complaints can go–” Quite suddenly the kid shifted in demeanor. Stopping short of outing her employer. Something she'd promised not to do. 

(Weirdly to Mr. Sinclair's strange assistant, not to him, though. Maeby didn't really understand why that was such a specific distinction he had, or why it was an…exceptionally well kept promise. But then again, she hardly understood half the shit going on since she got to town.) 

“Up your butt and around the corner.” She deflected, crossing her arms and taking up a post leaning against the brick wall behind her. A wrinkle tilted her nose up, like she'd caught a whiff of something rank. “Why do you even care?”

—

Now that was interesting. He caught it, the moment she almost gave away more than she meant to. The way her body stiffened, the way she faltered. It meant there was something more to tell, meant she wasn’t the top of the food chain here. Emilio wasn’t particularly surprised by that; he doubted a kid was the one running an operation sending out cursed objects to people, especially when the kid in question didn’t set off any ‘undead and probably a lot older than they look’ alarm bells in his head. She was hiding something; that meant there was something to hide.

He studied her for a moment, brows raised. She was standoffish, she clearly didn’t want to talk to him. He’d run into kids like her a thousand times in this town, knew most of her act probably was an act. He didn’t think she wanted to hurt anyone. In his experience, most kids didn’t. (On some level, he knew that was a biased way of thinking. There were kids who were shitty, kids who reveled in causing others pain, kids who wanted nothing more than to hurt people. But Emilio had a hard time seeing that, had a hard time accepting it. To him, kids were the only ones ever awarded the benefit of the doubt. Everyone else got the full dose of his paranoia.)

“It hurt somebody,” he commented, idly pulling out a pack of cigarettes and putting one in his mouth. He held it between his teeth as he continued. “The person who wound up with it. They were lucky — they knew how to fix it before it got bad. But the next person might not. Or the one after that, or the one after that. More stuff like this gets delivered, someone could end up real hurt. I don’t think you want that.” He lit the cigarette, taking a long drag. “Or maybe you do. But I don’t.”

—

Maeby bristled. Her heart picked up and she tried to look anywhere that wasn’t at this stranger. Her face felt hot, but it remained in that tight scowl. Trying to look unaffected, and failing quite spectacularly. The cool of the bricks behind her was the only thing grounding her well enough to keep tears from forming. She hated confrontation. The first sign of it usually meant shutting down in one way or another, but this was different. Much much more at stake than someone who potentially might maybe get hurt. 

Exactly what she worried about was true? So what? More people would get hurt, she reminded herself, if she didn’t get the cure. If she followed in the steps of every monster on the silver screen and destroyed whole towns, cities, states. Catastrophizing? Maybe. But Maeby was still a kid. Pretty sheltered one at that. With a mind that tended to take things literally. So when a scary witch tells you quite cryptically that ‘you will destroy everything you care about’ then a week later the first scale appears, well. Maeby believed it. 

“Not my fault.” She lied. Or at least, deflected again. “Maybe they ordered it like that. I’m just delivering them.” Maeby had to keep delivering them. She had to find out everything there was to know about Lamia, and how to stop being one before it got bad. “Why not go bother someone else. I don’t have to talk to you.” 

—

He’d rattled her. She was trying not to show it, but she wasn’t as skilled in keeping a straight face as he was in seeing past them. He took note of the way she leaned back, the way she looked shaken by the bluntness of his words. He’d meant to make her lose her cool, but he still felt a stab of guilt at the success. Emilio took no real pleasure in questioning kids like this, didn’t find it nearly as fun or rewarding as interrogating people a little older, who tended to deserve rougher handling. 

It’d be easier if she just told him what he needed to know. He wasn’t lying about his intentions; his client had managed to break the curse easily enough, but not everyone who got a delivery from this kid would be a powerful spellcaster. Sooner or later, someone was going to get hurt. Irreparably so. Emilio wanted to prevent that for the kid as much as he wanted to prevent it for the potential victim of the next curse she dropped off someplace. Hurting people wasn’t an easy thing to deal with, to stomach. It wasn’t the kind of thing most people came back from. Emilio would know better than most; he was one of the ones who never made it back.

“Maybe it’s not your fault,” he agreed with a shrug. “You didn’t know what it’d do. But I’m telling you now. You know now. So the next one you drop off, if it hurts somebody… Harder to say that’s not your fault. One after that, too. And after that.” He took another drag from the cigarette, turning his head away from her to exhale with a sigh. “You don’t have to talk to me,” he agreed. “But I’m going to find out what I need to know. Could find it out from you. Could find it out from someone else. Doesn’t matter much to me, but might make you feel better if you’re the one helping. Feels better than hurting, sometimes.”

—

“Yeah, well– some of them are good too.” She shot back. Face red hot and steaming. “Life-saving even.” The only other time Maeby had been approached after delivering something, it was pretty much the opposite of this. And only because the person was there when she dropped the package off. And they insisted she stay for its opening. 

Maeby didn't know why but the person was really compelling. Like they couldn't leave if they wanted to. Something about them just pulled her right inside. It all turned out okay, even if it was odd. The package had some great thing the woman had been looking for for ages and she said that she'd just die without it. So, life-saving. Right? Then she just gave Maeby a cookie and sent her on her way. Weird, but she never really thought about it much after. 

“You aren't going around and fucking up regular postman’s days. They deliver shit that could be good or bad or neutral.” The young courier defended her position. It wasn't exactly perfect and she knew that, but it was necessary if she didn't want things to get worse. “Why don't you go find the people sending the packages then huh?? They're the ones who—who– who” She fumbled, tripping over her words as her frustration grew. “who are actually doing the bad things, Mister Tough Guy??” 

—-

“You willing to roll the dice like that?” It was a genuine question. Was she okay with delivering packages that might hurt people if the tradeoff was packages that might help them? There was give and take with everything; Emilio knew that better than most. It was the same with what he did, sometimes. You hurt some people to help others. But how much control did she have? She seemed uncertain, seemed like maybe she didn’t know what was in those packages before she dropped them off. What was the ratio of ones that hurt versus ones that helped? Did she know? Did she want to?

He snorted at her defense, leveling her with a deadpan expression. “If I got a call about a postman’s package nearly killing someone then, yeah, I’d go fuck up their days. But I didn’t. I got a call about yours.” He couldn’t solve every goddamn problem in the world, and there were days when he hated himself for that. There were days when he read about ‘animal attacks’ in cemeteries and figured they were his fault, days when the weight of the world fit pretty snugly on top of his shoulders. He was learning to accept that he needed to do what he could, to save who he could save. This case was one someone had brought to him. This courier was standing in front of him. He could investigate this one. Maybe it’d make up for the ones he couldn’t.

“That’s what I’m trying to do, kid. How do you think this shit works? You start at the bottom, you work your way up. You’re on the bottom. I talk to you, figure out who you work for. Then I talk to them, figure out who paid them to have the package delivered. Then I go to that person, figure out why. If I could start at the top, I’d do it. But people like that are pretty goddamn good at hiding. Easier to find the people who are doing the bad things if the ones who don’t want bad things to happen will help you.”

—

It weighed on her. Of course it did. How could it not? As much as Maeby Knott wanted to pretend she was the aloof unaffected punk who could take the hard knocks and still be cool, she was more the sheepish kid who was scared shitless over all the sudden changes to her life. They had moved out for the first time, had to rig together every scrap to make some manner of home here in Wicked's Rest. 

Part of that was the job. 

Trickling information down from someone who, as the stranger put it, was at the top. Mr. Sinclair was smart and ancient. He was a fucking vampire for real real and he wasn't afraid to flex the strength that gave him even for small bouts of ire. Maeby shuddered to think of what it might look like if he got properly angry. 

Even if that wasn't a problem, Mr. Sinclair was the only hope for a cure. Maeby couldn't jeopardize that. Not even for someone trying to do the right thing. 

“Well, better figure all that out then, huh?” She barked, the heat rising behind her cheeks. She couldn't look at him anymore. Couldn't stand to be here, or anywhere that people's eyes could cast upon her. Whenever things got like this, it felt like the world could read her every thought. Felt like her heartbeat gave away every secret. Almost frantically, she turned to her board. Realizing then she'd been gripping it so tight her knuckles had gone white. Maeby dropped it to the ground and brushed past the man in the leather jacket. Escaping before the tears threatened to well, or god forbid, fall. 

—

It was clear he’d gotten to her, but it was just as clear that she wasn’t going to tell him what he needed to know. It would have been easier for the both of them if she would have, would have meant less trouble in the long run, but it was what it was. Maybe she was afraid of her boss, he reasoned; whoever was in charge of sending cursed objects out to people doubtlessly carried some power, and she was just a kid. Maybe whoever was over her head had her locked into something tight, and her fear clamped her jaw shut tighter than anything else could ever hope. 

Or maybe she believed what she was spouting. Emilio thought of himself at that age, defending the Cortez code so vehemently that anyone who questioned it for a second saw him spitting venom in their direction. It had taken a kid of his own for him to figure out the things he’d been taught hadn’t been entirely true, and even now he sometimes found himself defending the person he didn’t want to be anymore. 

Whatever the reason, though, it was clear that Maebelle Knott was a dead end, that Emilio would need to take the investigation in another direction if he ever hoped to solve it. If she’d been someone else, he might have pushed more. Someone a few years older might have found themselves shoved against the wall, might have felt a blade against their chest in a quiet warning. But this was a kid, and Emilio couldn’t bring himself to threaten her. Instead, he nodded as she dropped her board and brushed by him.

“Probably be seeing you around,” he called after her. This client wouldn’t be the only one who came to him with some kind of problem that led back to her. He was sure of that. “Hope I’m not telling you about someone one of your deliveries killed next time.”

—

Maeby’s mind was a staticky mess. Pushing out and in, in all directions. Fighting a losing war against morals and judgment and whatever the hell the greater good was in this situation. There was no other greater good for her, than stopping this tide of destruction that was heading her way. Who knows how fast. Could be tomorrow, could be a week from now. But whenever that reptilian curse reared its ugly scaly head, the greater good was in more danger than receiving mystery packages from a mildly magical source. 

As the young soon-to-be-monster sped off, away enough that she only barely caught the stranger’s final jab, but it was enough to seal the coffin on her most current breakdown. The guy already knew where she lived, so she didn’t have to go skate around the neighborhood before circling back to the one place she shouldn’t be disturbed. But maybe it helped get out some excess energy. Maybe it took their mind off of the obvious long enough for her to calm down. Maybe it was all an escape, in a way. 

All she knew was tomorrow there would be another package. And she’d have to deliver it. 

[zecretsanta]

All Hail

To: @soraritsuka

From: @chessanator

Merry Christmas, Soraritsuka! I hope you enjoy this fanfic gift. It’ll probably become clear to you very quickly which of your prompts this is based on, but I’ll leave the suspense hanging in the air for now.

Ao3 Link

The Bringer

Aoi Kurashiki sat in the latest Crash Keys command centre, feet propped up on the row of in-built control consoles. The screens above his head flipped from one image to the next, and Aoi followed them with a carefully measured detachment. The information displayed up there was important: assignments for various Crash Keys agents, reports on that incident up in Minnesota… even updates on the stock market, no longer the sole lifeline it had been for them as children but still the fuel that allowed everything else to happen. But that importance wasn’t why Aoi was paying it attention.

It didn’t take long until the info Aoi wanted to see – something he could use – flashed by. In an instant he was in action, though he took care not to let any hint of his urgency be seen by the other Crash Keys members in the centre. After scribbling on a piece of paper he waved it in the direction of the nearest agent.

“Take this report to my sister. She needs to know about these updates from New Mexico.”

Then, only a minute after that first agent had scurried away: “We’ve got some concerns about the vehicle pool. Check ’em out and make sure their engines don’t explode on the highway again.”

After that: “Arrange a meeting to plan the next operation.”

All of these were an integral part of the running of Crash Keys, sure. All of them needed to be done. But the only reason Aoi had for ensuring they were all done at once was to empty the control centre of everyone else and be able to access the computers alone.

The truth was, ever since the two of them had slipped away from Building Q Akane had started to leave Aoi out of certain key facets of her objectives. He was well aware that the Nonary Game wasn’t the end of their mission; if anything they’d only ramped up in the year afterwards, recruiting more members and expanding their information-gathering options. Akane had never explicitly said she was excluding him. On the surface she seemed to be relying on him as much as ever, as evidenced by his position in this control centre. He still had his role, collating incoming information from across the entire organisation and passing out new instructions to their operatives. But Aoi knew that surface impression wasn’t the truth. The hole in what he’d been given access to was apparent to him, whether Akane acknowledged it or not.

Aoi wasn’t going to take it anymore.

Today was the day for him to uncover what his sister had been keeping from him. What he already had access to ought to be enough for that. And he knew that Akane would spend the day occupied by a dozen different small crises; the courier he’d sent ought to keep her away even longer. He swung his feet down to the floor, vigorously spun his chair to face the nearest computer console, and booted it up.

-

After half an hour of searching, Aoi realised what was confounding his efforts. As he encroached on the pieces of information Akane had kept away from him, he could start to identify the general shape they took: something about some fucked-up cult operating in the shadows in much the same way that Crash Keys itself did.

But at every step of the way he was confounded by other pieces of info that he also hadn’t seen before. A certain morphogenetic experiment, bringing back alarming but inconclusive results. Cases of agents experiencing debilitating headaches or mental breaks, with no known cause. Even, in later reports, hints of another group of fanatics; Aoi only realised they weren’t in any way related to the first cult after a painstaking delve into the evidence.

No wonder he’d assumed they were yet more pieces of the big thing Akane was keeping from him. And no wonder that, having mistakenly thought everything he was finding was part of one big whole, he’d spent most of his time searching being led completely astray. In the end, he settled for filtering out everything past June 2028. It was a blunt instrument, but at least he’d know everything left was relevant.

Once he’d done that Aoi was able to spot and understand the connections that tied everything else together. It was only then that Aoi was able to identify the cult, this so-called ‘Free the Soul’, and realise that several operations that Akane had told him were unconnected were in fact all targeting individuals connected to them.

With this information in hand he delved deeper into the computer network, ready to make some actual progress. He was now able to identify, with a bitter ironic smirk, the layers of obfuscation that his sister had used to keep him from piecing this together even while engaged in his role in Crash Keys. With a great deal of effort he worked his way to what had to be the key document, stored in a location you’d only search if you already knew what you’d find there. It had been authored by Akane, it had ‘Free the Soul’ as the main part of its title, and it seemed to be a summary of everything known about the terrorist cult. Aoi opened it up and read the first line.

‘I know you’re reading this, Aoi.’ Beneath that and above Akane’s signature was today’s date.

That had been… entirely too predictable. But Aoi didn’t have time to reflect on that at all. At the exact same moment the sharp scowl formed on his face, and before he could read even a single word more of Akane’s document, klaxons sounded across the Crash Keys base.

Aoi sprung to his feet. As the red of the warning lights swept and danced across the control centre he strode towards the way out. Only to find that just before he touched the door it opened itself. On the other side stood Akane, arms folded.

Aoi put on a self-assured smirk. “Okay. You didn’t need to rub it in,” he said.

Akane’s eyes widened; a confused gasp escaped her lips. “What do you mean?”

“I read your message.” Aoi gestured nonchalantly in the air. It was usually best to let Akane have her all-knowing fun. “That’s what this is about, right?”

“That’s…” Akane trailed off, shaking her head briskly. “This is something else. What you found doesn’t matter until after we’ve sorted this out.”

After all the effort he’d put into finding it?

“It’s just a coincidence this emergency happened at the same time you found that message. I couldn’t believe it, but it’s true. This emergency is real, and Crash Keys will truly be in danger if we don’t solve it.”

Aoi felt his awareness sharpen. Everything about Akane’s bearing, and everything coming through their shared connection, said that this was far more crucial than some morphogentically-powered practical joke. At least she was letting him in on it, this time. “What’s this about?” he asked, his tone serious in an instant.

Akane answered his question, her voice tense in a way Aoi hadn’t really heard since the day she had laid out, at age twelve, the plan to retroactively save her from the incinerator.

“I think we’ve made a terrible mistake.”

— 

Eternally Preserve

Alice blew her whistle, sharply. “Once more!” she called out to the gaggle of young espers at the far end of the course, and they began to file back towards her: Clover bouncing along, Light maintaining his upright, princely bearing, Nona and Ennea slightly breathless but still giggling to each other some joke Ennea had made. When they were all lined up in front of her once more Alice waited just a couple of seconds to check their readiness. Then she sounded the whistle a second time, pressing the button on her stopwatch as the espers took off at a full sprint.

‘Baseless Training’: that was what some of her coworkers had called this when Alice had requested a transfer to the newly opened experimental division. On particularly sharp-mouthed SOIS officer had twisted the words into ‘Boot Can’t-p’. The idea that the most elite intelligence agency in the country was pouring this much time and resources into agents claiming to have psychic powers was ludicrous on the face of it, so Alice could understand where her colleagues were coming from. She just didn’t care. These new recruits were her last, best chance to get to the people who’d kidnapped her father, and Alice was going to take it.

That meant bringing them up to speed. It wasn’t as though SOIS could expect that the miniscule proportion of people with these special abilities would be the exact same people who had the military physiques and constitutions needed for the gruelling rigours of SOIS work. And the new recruits didn’t just have to operate at the peak of human ability. They needed to be able to do all that, wear themselves to the bone over hours of effort and then, at the end of it, still be able to use their esper powers on behalf of the mission.

There wasn’t yet much research into research into how espers coped with physical exhaustion. All Alice could provide was drilling, drilling and more drilling; she would have to hope this level of physical conditioning was enough.

At least her recruits’ teamwork was up to par. Alice took particular note of the moment when Clover, a couple of strides ahead of the group along the course, glanced back at the exact right moment to assist her brother in cornering tightly around the cones.

 Alice was satisfied to see that each and every one of the trainee’s times had improved from the sessions before, even if they weren’t yet up to the standards of the agency’s usual recruits. As long as this final run went well she could be confident that the espers would be ready for the field by… No. Something was wrong. Alice didn’t yet know what, but her instincts were prickling.

Moments after Alice started dashing forwards Light let out a hoarse gasp. His legs buckled and he fell to his knees, his remaining carrying him skidding and tumbling across the grass. By the time Alice had caught up to the other runners, and brought them to a halt, Clover was knelt down by her brother’s side. Her wild pink hair fell across her eyes as she clutched at Light’s right arm. A mistrustful anguish contorted her expression.

“Light! What’s hurt you?!” Clover cried out. She glared up at Alice. “He didn’t just trip. Don’t you dare say he just tripped!”

It was probably a good thing that Clover was joining SOIS where such an attitude, even towards a superior, was appreciated as a sign of initiative. “Yes, I saw. This won’t affect his ratings,” Alice reassured the younger woman. She then assessed Light’s condition with a practiced eye: some pain that had caused him to fall, certainly, but no serious or permanent damage. Alice allowed herself a sigh of relief.

Alice’s judgement was confirmed a few moments later when Light raised his head. “It has passed,” he said, his tone measured and steady despite the aftereffects of whatever had brought him down. Relying on Clover’s arm for support he made his way to his feet. With his eyes still firmly closed he turned to face Alice. “A certain ripple, you could call it, in the morphogenetic field. Streaks of black and white swam across the images Clover was sending me. It was quite disorientating.”

With a quick glance towards the other espers present, Alice asked if any of them had endured the same thing. Shakes of heads all round, plus Nona’s murmured “No. Nothing like that,” confirmed that they hadn’t.

Alice weighed up the situation in front of her, and came to a decision. “I’ll need to report this to the higher-ups,” she said to Light. “Once I find out what we know I’ll pass it on to you all.” It looked like the rest of her day had just gotten a hell of a lot more complicated.

- 

At the debriefing later that evening Alice addressed the SOIS director and the head science advisor, describing what had occurred during what should have been a routine physical fitness session. “It didn’t have much effect today,” she concluded, “but who knows what problems it could cause if it happens again. When it happens again. We don’t know what triggered it today, so we can’t prevent the next time.”

The science advisor nodded, then passed a pair of thin folders to Alice and the director. “Trainee Field’s report has been corroborated by the prototypes we’ve been testing. Certainly, something morphogenetic happened at that time. We’ll try to narrow it down further, but that will take time.”

Alice bristled at the insinuation against her subordinate’s trustworthiness, but held her tongue.

“What I don’t understand,” the director said, tapping the diagrams in the file with her fingertips, “is why only Trainee Field was affected. Not even his sister showed even a single symptom. Correct?”

“Yes. That’s correct,” Alice replied. She marshalled her thoughts, and then added, “The documents we appropriated from Cradle Pharmaceuticals suggest that espers can be divided into two classes. ‘Transmitters’ and ‘Receivers’. Surely that has something to do with it.”

“Light is a receiver, certainly,” the science advisor concurred. Then his lips pursed; his nose wrinkled. “That can’t be the sole factor. I was under the impression that receivers and transmitters both made up a good proportion of our recruited espers.”

“Then perhaps we should look at something only connected to the Field siblings, which then only affects Trainee Light because he is a receiver,” the director mused. She then fixed Alice with her piercing gaze. “You were the one to pick them up after that particular incident. I’ll leave the investigation of any leads related to that to you.”

It looked like the entire rest of Alice’s year had gotten more complicated, too. “Yes, ma’am,” was all Alice could reply.

 —

The Peaceful World - Unwarranted

The streets of New York city bustled, and Hazuki Kashiwabara had to shimmy her way through the crowd to make progress along the line of shopfronts. At least that was something she was adept at: regular exercise had kept her limber and ready to take advantage of gaps, while her quickness of mind had her apprehending the flow of people and capable of anticipating the best route forward. So it didn’t take her long to reach the end of that block, where something finally brought her short by catching her attention.

A fancy-looking bookstore stood out among its neighbours. Hazuki quickly decided that this was an excellent place to browse next. Perhaps she could get Ennea’s and Nona’s Christmas presents early? It would be a surprise if she couldn’t find any books at all that would interest her daughters.

Once inside, Hazuki found that the back area of the bookstore had been given over to some sort of book promotion. A slick-looking presenter stood on a slightly raised platform, brandishing a microphone in one hand and gesturing towards a display board with the other. Another man – presumably the author – sat at a table to one side, stacks of the book in question piled in front of him. A small number of people had gathered in the open space in front, drawn in by the presenter’s spiel.

Hazuki had arrived just in time to catch the end of the presenter’s opening announcement. “– and the scientific basis of telepathy. This, and more, can be learned from this amazing compendium of the secrets of the universe!”

Hazuki sighed, and looked away. Once she had found such topics an amusing diversion that was fun to read about, if not actually believe; these days it hit too close to home. She turned away from the presentation and headed over to the shelves of fiction. And though the presenter’s microphone caused his speech to carry across the store – “Thank you, kind volunteers! May I please have you split into two groups so we can recreate this famous experiment.” – Hazuki kept herself from paying it any attention at all.

Just after finding a newly-published book by an author her daughters had enjoyed before, while she was mulling over whether it would make a good gift, the ringtone of Hazuki’s phone began to emanate from her handbag. Somehow, the tones sounded even more urgent than normal. Hazuki hurriedly extracted the phone and read the name that had appeared across the screen: ‘Nona’.

In an instant the phone was at her ear. “Nona?” Hazuki said, ignoring the pointed looks from the other shoppers around her. “What’s going on?” Even without being allowed to know the full details, Hazuki knew that it was too soon to expect a routine call.

“Mom!” The voice on the other end of the call was breathless, hurried. “I’m not supposed to tell you this, but… You have to get out of there! I can’t tell you why, but it’s not safe. Something’s about to happen. Please…”

Hazuki had sworn to herself that she’d always trust in what her children told. “I will,” she replied. “Thank you.”

The phone hung up just after. Hazuki had no idea what it had taken for Nona to steal those few moments for that call.

That just added to the urgency of the warning. Not even checking to see if she’d put the book back in the right place she headed back towards the entrance in as brisk a walk as she could manage. The path back to the door took her back through the central space, from where Hazuki could see over to the book promotion once more. There, the presenter was just finishing up the experiment he’d announced earlier.

“And so, let us see how many of you are now aware of what this pattern is. Though you had no ability to know about these images before today, that knowledge should now be available through the mysteries of the morphogenetic field.” The presenter pointed at the display board on his right, with now showed an abstract looking pattern of black and white shapes. He then reached for the first of a pile of folded-up pieces of paper and flourished it in the air. “And just as expected, our volunteers now recognise this picture as a…”

The presenter opened the folded paper with a dramatic snap. He glanced at some writing written upon it; his eyes went wide.

What the presenter said next had been intended as just a whisper to himself. But the microphone carried his alarmed and confused mutterings across the entire bookstore. “Huh? That’s not supposed how it’s supposed to go…”

As the rumbling commotion of the spectators grew into agitated shouting, and then yells and screams, Hazuki doubled her efforts towards the exit. Was this the danger Nona had tried to warn her about? It was best to get out while she had the chance.

Hazuki stepped out of the bookstore onto the bright New York street, only to find that both ends of the block had been cordoned off. On the other side of the streams of bright yellow tape stood ranks of riot police, equipped with shields and Kevlar and batons. As blinding spotlights were directed her way, Hazuki put her hands in the air and sank to her knees.

-

She’d barely been able to keep track of the storm that followed. What Hazuki remembered: as the riot police had swarmed and surrounded her to take her into custody, yet more phalanxes of them had stormed into the bookstore she’d emerged from. In handcuffs, she’d been dragged along the pavement and into one of the canvas tents that had been erected beyond the cordons. And there she’d been left, sat on a rickety metal chair, long enough that she thought she’d been forgotten about.

It was only after what had to have been hours – Hazuki had no way to tell the time, her wristwatch having been inaccessibly stuck behind her back when her wrists were cuffed together – that something happened. Two officers – a man and a woman, dressed in military khaki – ducked their way under the flap of the tent’s door and sat down on the opposite side of an equally rickety trestle table. The two of them stared Hazuki down for a while, an evidently practiced interrogation tactic, before the woman retrieved some papers from her attaché bag, placed them on the table, and opened her mouth to speak.

“Hey!” Hazuki got there first. “Get me my lawyer! I’m not saying anything until then.”

The male soldier scowled, and the woman rapped her knuckles harshly against the papers in front of her. The metal table resounded with a sharp ring, one that would have been uncomfortable to the ears if the sound hadn’t been dulled by the soft material of the pavilion that surrounded them. Hazuki did her best not to look intimidated.

Eventually, the woman said, “That’s no longer relevant. The Special Emergency Powers Act sees to that. You need to tell us what we need to know.” She paused, and Hazuki could feel the way her questioner was trying to make the implicit threats sink in. “What do you know about the incident that just occurred?”

Before Hazuki could even process that question the man jumped in as well: a staccato rhythm of interrogation that kept her off balance. “You stepped out from ground zero of what they’re telling us is a category nine mind-virus. You just strolled out of there without suffering any effects at all. How do you plan to explain that?”

Then back to the woman. “None of the other civilians we picked up are in any state to ask for their lawyers. Not from in the bookstore; the ones we picked up from the sidewalks outside aren’t looking good, either. All we’re getting from them is wails and yelling and babbling about some fu– some fucked up nonsense. What makes you special?”

Hazuki didn’t know what to say to any of that. She glared defiantly back at the level stares of her interrogators, just hoping that they wouldn’t jump to the worst possible conclusions about her and knowing that nothing she said could prevent that.

Reprieve came from a blithe but commanding voice, speaking from just outside the tent. “I’ll take it from here,” came a statement that was just as much an inviolable order.

The woman seated opposite Hazuki sighed and shook her head, but she gathered up her papers without complaint. As her two previous interrogators stood up and filed out towards the exit, the speaker from outside raised the tent flap and strode in. The shining glint of her necklace’s golden ring, sitting as it did over a practical but well-tailored beige suit, heralded Alice’s arrival.

When the two of them were alone Hazuki breathed an exhausted sigh of relief. “It’s good to see you,” she said to the woman who’d been the first person they’d seen after escaping from that horrid death game.

Alice nodded in reply, a warm smile spreading across her lips. “I figured a softer touch would be better for all of us, not whatever those two clowns thought they were up to.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it,” Hazuki said. After stretching out all the tension in her shoulders – tension that she’d only just realised had been coiling up throughout her time in the emergency response pavilion – she glanced up at Alice and jingled the handcuffs that still held her wrists together behind the hard back of her chair. “Any chance of getting these off?” she asked.

“Unfortunately, no.”

“What?!” Hazuki gasped. “You can’t be–!”

“You’re a friend,” Alice said, “but that doesn’t mean I can take liberties.” She sighed, gesturing towards the exit of the tent and the New York streets outside: an outside world that had barely seemed to exist while Hazuki had been left to stare at plain white fabric. “Those two might have been ham-fisted, but they weren’t lying. It’s a nightmare out there. And across the country, too: I’m barely catching up to events in time to put out fires, not getting any chance to get ahead of this thing.” She leaned over the trestle table, locking eyes with Hazuki. “I need some reassurance you’re going to be safe. Not add to all our problems, even if you don’t mean to.”

Hazuki recalled the questions that the two soldiers had been asking her. “I-I don’t know why nothing happened to me. Some sort of weird buzzing in my head, then I left the store and that was it!” She forced herself to concentrate, digging up every last detail she could have subconsciously picked up along the way. “Maybe I’ve seen… whatever-it-was… before?” Would that have made her resistant, by inoculation?

Alice shook her head, sternly. “That’s not it. This was a book announcement by a world famous parascience advocate. Half the crowd in there had to be familiar with the Sheldrake experiment.”

But something was making Hazuki even more certain. “No…” she murmured. “I think I’ve seen all of it before. Including that bit extra, at the end, that made it happen.” Though what that extra was, and where Hazuki had seen it before, she couldn’t quite recall.

Alice pursed her lips tight. But, eventually, she nodded. “It’s worth looking into,” she said.

From there it was only a few bureaucratic hurdles before Alice arranged for Hazuki’s release, though it felt to her like an hour. When Alice knelt down behind Hazuki’s chair to finally uncuff her wrists she whispered into her ear.

“Thanks for this. I’ll make sure to overlook what Ennea did to give Nona that distraction. For a friend.”

— 

By the Numbers

The detective glanced to his side, made sure Junpei looked as ready as possible, and then rang the doorbell of the house they’d arrived at. To be honest, he wasn’t sure if the kid would ever have his head completely in the game. He’d done his best to rub into Junpei’s skull that, if he was going to be a private eye, the routine cases were the ones that paid the bills. That both of them were going to have to do their best on this missing person case, if the detective was going to keep the leeway from his superiors that let them work together on the big stuff.

Even after all that, there was only one missing person case on Junpei’s mind most of the time. The detective would just have to trust it not to get in the way of this one.

The front door of the house creaked open and a middle-aged woman peered out through the gap. The detective was used to the reactions to his stocky frame and height that towered over most Japanese people; his police badge was already in his hand in anticipation as the lady began to flinch away.

“Mrs Matsuo?” he asked. “Can we come in? We’re here about the disappearance you’ve reported.”

Still a bit nervous, and certainly dazed, Mrs Matsuo responded slowly. “About Kenji…?” she said, weariness threaded through her voice. “I… Yes, of course. Please…” She trailed off, the open door as she stepped back finishing her sentence for her.

Once the detective and Junpei had stepped inside, the lady led them through to the living room. As they sat down on the offered sofa the detective looked around, taking particular notice of a photo framed on the side table that portrayed Mrs Matsuo and the man they’d come to ask about standing side by side. She was in no state to offer them refreshments and so she just sat opposite them, her head slightly bowed.

“Can you tell us what happened with your husband, when he went missing?” With the question asked the detective fell silent and leaned back, giving the woman room to answer.

Mrs Matsuo clenched her hands together and shook her head in tight, little jerks. “I-I don’t know. Kenji just left in the middle of the night. It was sudden. So sudden.”

The detective could see from her face the way the pertinent details were getting buried under her shock. He was about to pry further when Junpei spoke up first.

“Anything that happened beforehand? Did Kenji say or do anything that would give us a clue where he’s trying to get to?”

Mrs Matsuo met his gaze for just a second before looking away again. “Um… He was acting strange the evening before. But I don’t see how that could help you find him.”

Junpei put on a warm, beckoning smile. “Every little bit can help. We won’t know what information will be important until we seek it all out. Please, help us help him.”

That was a good start, on Junpei’s part. The detective settled in to watch Mrs Matsuo’s reactions, see what clues they provided on top of her words.

The lady blinked a few times rapidly, cleared her throat, then began to answer Junpei’s question. “Three days ago, I got back to find Kenji stood in here, yelling at the dog.”

The puppy in question – a young black and white terrier – had emerged into the living room to investigate the new guests, and was now nuzzling up against the side of the detective’s leg.

“He was just screaming at the top of his voice and waving his hands at him. Something about how the poor thing ‘wasn’t right’ and was ‘being so rude.’ All sorts of things like that. It didn’t make any sense.”

That was something that made this different from any other missing persons case. “Whoa!” the detective exclaimed, hoping that it sounded sympathetic. “Any idea why he was doing that?”

The lady vigorously shook her head. “No! I couldn’t believe he was doing that! He’s never been cruel to the dog before. And… I don’t think Kenji knew why he was doing it, either.”

“Huh? Mr Matsuo didn’t know either?”

“I asked him, and he just couldn’t answer me. I was so angry… I just sent him to bed, told him he should explain himself in the morning.” Mrs Matsuo put her head in her hands, guilt driving rivulets of tears from the side of her eyes. “By then, he was gone. He left that night. Never came back.”

The detective and Junpei asked a few more questions after that. They established that Mr Matsuo had packed for his disappearance, taking cash and cards and changes of clothes for five nights. The detective ran through a list of known associates, making sure they had all the details of everyone the missing man might have contacted or taken shelter with. And so the routine part of their investigation came to an end.

After they had made their goodbyes to Mrs Matsuo and exited her house, Junpei turned to the detective. “This isn’t just some guy having a mental breakdown, is it?”

The detective shook his head in agreement. Now back to talking just among themselves, he let his voice settle back into its more natural, rougher tones. “Nah. This was too planned out for some guy going nutso. If that was all this was, one of the beat cops would have picked him up wandering the streets by now.” He rubbed is forehead with his fingers, reading himself for what was to come. “Let’s get our asses back to HQ and put together what we’ve got.”

- 

Back at police HQ, and after getting Junpei through his colleagues’ inquisitive gazes by talking up the benefits of collaboration with Junpei’s newly-joined private agency, the detective had taken over a conference room to act as the base of operations for this investigation. He’d projected profiles of the missing Mr Matsuo on the screens around the walls and spread the witness accounts the beat cops had collected from nearby houses on the central table. Then he’d set up computer terminals for himself and Junpei, from which they could follow up any leads and pursue their hypotheses into the wider world.

They’d begun their work of tracking where Mr Matsuo could have fled to, collating new information as it came in and bouncing ideas off each other. The detective had felt particularly proud, successful as a mentor, when Junpei had brought up the usage of the man’s credit and debit cards, which suggested even further that the man was in full possession of his wits – money drained from his accounts, and then a taxi out to no destination they could make sense of. Even so, they hadn’t made any concrete progress yet. Just as the detective was about to call for a coffee break his phone began to ring.

The phone was out on the table, and Junpei was able to get a look before the detective was able to pick it up and answer. His eyes narrowing in first concentration, then surprise, Junpei read out the caller ID that had shown up across the screen. “Huh? ‘Exhibitionist Demon Lady’, it says… Is that Lotus?”

The detective snorted. “Yep. We’ve kept in touch, ever since… you know.” It wasn’t like anything more needed to be said about that event in both their lives. “But why the hell’s she calling me now?”

Junpei shrugged. “You got any choice but to pick up the phone?”

The detective did so. “Hey, Hazuki! What’s up?”

The voice came from the other end of the line, sultry and jocular. “It’s been crazy here like you wouldn’t believe. Or who knows. Maybe you would.” Hazuki paused then, the faintest tremors of barely picked-up speech coming through the speakers as she conversed with someone in the room with her. “I caught wind of something that might interest you. People are going crazy in a number of different places, and they might be connected.”

Junpei perked up, eyes narrowing as he peered towards the phone the detective was holding. “Huh? Could that have anything to do with our case?”

That drew a response from the other end of the line as well. “Is that Junpei? Say hi to him for me.”

The detective duly put the call on speaker so that Junpei could take part. Then he continued speaking to Hazuki. “So how’d an ol’ lady like you get mixed up in this?”

Her gasp of rage wasn’t so much heard as projected all the way across the call to blast into the detective’s ear. “I’d kick your ass for that! If only we were in the same country… Anyway, it wasn’t my fault. I just happened to be around when the big one happened.”

Obviously, that wasn’t the whole story. But the detective had learned not to look a gift belly-dancer in the mouth. “So this bull isn’t just happening in Japan?” Hazuki had moved away to America a few months back, when her daughters had gone to live there. “It’s happening all over the world?”

“No. Just the USA and Japan. Nowhere else, at least for now.” A deep sigh crackled over the connection of the phone-call. When Hazuki’s voice came back it was lilted with an ironic “Now, what else has happened recently that connected America and Japan?”

Something that had involved a connection between Japan and America? There was only one thing that came to the detective’s mind.

“I can’t fucking believe it. The Nonary Game?” the detective said, his voice drained, wearily resting his head on his palm.

“I can’t fucking believe it. The Nonary Game?!” Junpei said, his eyes shining with a desperate, all-consuming, desire, his voice rising with uncontrolled hope as he leaned unconsciously in towards the phone.

“Yep. I guess I’ll be seeing you soon.” After that Hazuki hung up.

With that extra clue in hand – and after some not-entirely-legit strings were pulled by Junpei’s detective agency – it wasn’t long until the two of them tracked the missing Mr Matsuo to an airport, buying tickets to San Fransisco under an assumed name.

“How’s your passport situation?” the detective asked Junpei.

“Not great,” Junpei said with a smirk. “They’ve been iffy about it ever since I ended up outside the country with no idea how I’d got there.”

It didn’t matter. That wasn’t enough to stop the two of them from getting where they were needed.

— 

Hard-Earned Fortune

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t just take you in right now,” Clover Field said to the man in front of her, the muzzle of her handgun buried in the messy white of his hair. “Why shouldn’t I throw you in the slammer like you deserve?”

A strained chuckle came from Aoi Kurashiki as he held his hands out to either side. “Is this any way to greet an old friend?”

Clover tilted the gun slightly, savouring the grind against the back of Aoi’s head. “Nine…” she hissed. “Eight. Seven…”

“Jeez!” Aoi exclaimed. “I’ll tell you why we called you out here. Calm the fuck down, already.”

Certainly, the dingy back alley the two of them were in was a good location for a clandestine meeting, which was probably why the mysterious note calling her out here had specified it as her destination. It was equally an excellent location for an ambush, which was why Light was sitting two blocks away in a van filled with reinforcements, waiting for the merest thought of alarm from her. And why Clover had undertaken to get the upper hand on whoever came to meet her, by every trick and method her SOIS training had instilled in her.

That strategy had led her here, sidearm planted satisfyingly in the back of the man who had kidnapped her and her brother only so many months ago. Still, Clover knew a single arrest wasn’t the objective of this little operation. She gritted her teeth, and said, “Go on. Tell me.”

“My sister and I were looking for a team-up. Join forces. Crash Keys and SOIS, having a nice little house party together.”

Clover could just imagine his smirk, even looking from the wrong side of him to see his face. “Why would we want to do that? What have we got to gain from teaming up with you?”

Aoi scoffed. “I’d have thought you’d already have a good guess on that. You gonna make me say it?” He shrugged, and Clover by well-ingrained instinct shifted her attention to his hands, making sure this wasn’t the start of him trying something. “Guess you are. Akane’s got some idea about the struggles you chumps are having with that so-called ‘mind virus’. And whatever you’re telling the average joes, we both know it’s morphogenetic in origin. You guys and us are the only fuckers who know anything about this, so we’re the only ones with any chance of dealing with it. Admit it. You need our help.”

“It’s not just that,” Clover snapped. “You’ve got some other angle on this. Haven’t you?!” The two Kurashiki siblings had kept up their façades for nine hours back then, impeccably. Clover was never gonna take anything either of them said at face value, ever again. “I just bet it’s some scheme to get one over us, while we’re busy trying to solve the real problems.”

“I’m not gonna try lying to you,” Aoi replied. “Of course we’ve got some agenda. Who the fuck hasn’t?”

“Then tell me! Tell me, or any deal’s off the table.”

Aoi Kurashiki grunted. “I can’t tell you just whatever… I’m not hiding anything that’ll be a problem to SOIS. Fucking god, Clover, I swear I’m not!”

“Then prove it! What are you hiding?”

“You think you can just do whatever you want, ’cause you’re with the government,” Aoi spat. His tone was as cocky as always, but something about him was almost… desperate. Clover was about to press him further when he suddenly spoke again. “A hostage.”

Clover squinted her eyes. “Huh? A hostage?”

“Yeah. Against Crash Keys’ good intentions.” Aoi’s shoulders relaxed and slumped as he let out one final half-laugh. “I guess you’re gonna get to throw me in the slammer after all.”

- 

Back at SOIS HQ they’d set up a meeting room so that Alice’s squad of espers could prepare the next stage, as they moved on from just managing one crisis after another to actually being able to get ahead this thing. A meeting room specifically chosen so that Aoi Kurashiki could be handcuffed to the table.

“You really think this is necessary?” he complained, testing the range of motion the restraints gave him.

“Perhaps not,” Light said as he sat down on the opposite side. “Nevertheless, it cannot be denied that it is a reassuring precaution. Perhaps you could take a moment or two to reflect on why this has happened.”

Aoi scowled. Then he turned with a plaintive expression towards Alice, who’d taken position at the head of the table.

“I wouldn’t have gotten to where I am today if I hadn’t learned to trust my subordinates’ judgement,” she said to him.

As Aoi sulked and sank, defeated, into his seat, Clover opened up her laptop. “Here’s what we’ve got!” she exclaimed, plugging in the flash drive Aoi had brought along to the rendezvous. The maps it contained were projected onto screens around the room, to which Clover added streams of camera footage from her own investigations. “It really does look like this is the place all those people are going. See? There’s that group from New Mexico we lost track of, going into the big building.”

“Very good. That’s impeccable proof that this is where we need to go,” Alice replied. She glanced at Aoi. “How come your people knew about this place?”

“What can I say?” Aoi said with a languid gesture. “It wasn’t any great feat of detective work. These people just happened to use one of the same construction supply companies we did, back when we were retrofitting Building Q. We noticed people were purchasing the same sort of stuff, put three and six together, and got a great big screaming ‘look here’ sign.”

“Hey!” Ennea interjected, tapping the side of her head. “Is it, like, just a coincidence they used the same company?”

“Heh. No,” Aoi replied. He didn’t volunteer anything more.

“Now we have a target location,” Alice said, “we’ll need to infiltrate. Find out what’s in there, what’s causing the morphogenetic mind virus and, if possible, what we can do to cut it off for good.”

“What’s the plan?” Light asked.

“This one won’t be a direct assault. Until we know what’s inside, we can’t take the risk that some of them will escape and set up shop again somewhere else. Looks like a quiet infiltration’s on the cards.”

Aoi took that moment to interrupt. “And you’d better not step on Crash Keys’ toes while you’re at it. That’s half of why I’m here.”

Actually, the whole of why he was here was that Clover had hog-tied him and dragged him back to base. Clover let a scornful smirk in Aoi’s direction be her only acknowledgement of that fact.

“We’d be doing this anyway,” Aoi continued, “even if you chose not to co-operate with us. It’s too important to our organisation’s goals. Having your guys along for the ride is good, but mostly I just wanted to make sure you didn’t stumble into us halfway through and fuck this up.”

Alice sighed and rubbed her forehead with her fingers. “Yes. It looks like agents of Crash Keys will be engaging alongside you when you enter the building. Respect their expertise, but do not place your complete trust in them. I’m sure you understand why.”

“Do you have to talk about us like I’m not sitting right here?” Aoi said.

Into the silence that followed Nona hesitantly, shakily, raised her hand. “Alice… you said… when we enter the building. Us newbies?”

“Yes,” Alice said with finality. “It’ll be your first major mission. You’ll be supported by more experienced agents, sure. But, given the nature of what we’re looking for, you’ll need to be on the front lines. It might be that you’re the only ones who’ll be able to recognise the morphogenetic cause.”

At Alice’s pronouncement, a deathly pallor descended on the other espers in the briefing room. Nona, lips almost white with how much she was pursing them, wrapped her arms round her sister’s elbow; Ennea, in turn, leaned into it. For Light… well, no one else would have been able to tell that his demeanour had changed. But Clover knew her brother well enough to see his uncertainty. Who knew how it would have been if they weren’t all trying to keep brave faces in front of this outsider among their midst.

Clover gritted her teeth. She slammed her palms down on the table, half-standing up in the process from sheer momentum. “We can do this!” she hollered. “We’ll kick their asses.”

“That’s right, Clover,” Alice said, her smile warm and proud. “I wouldn’t have recommended you all for this mission if I thought there was any risk to my impeccable reputation. This is what all the training was for. We do our best here, and we can put the convulsions of the last few weeks behind us.” She pressed a button, bringing up a schematic of the building on the screens. “Now, the plan is…”

— 

Markings of a Moment in Time

Akane Kurashiki peered around the corner, making a mental map of what would come next as they made their way through the building. A carefully application of pressure to the construction supply company had produced rough blueprints of the complex they were infiltrating, from which Crash Keys had been able to identify the likely heart of the facility. Through careful inspection of the plans, reasonable assumptions about how the people inside were using the space, and some morphogenetic insights Akane herself had supplied – with no desire to explain what it’d taken to arrive at them – they had plotted several routes to that central point with good opportunities for cover and that should avoid most of the foot traffic.

Akane had led a small team of Crash Keys agents along one such route. She knew that SOIS had infiltrated via the other routes. With luck, they would all make it through to here, on the ninth floor of the central building.

All Akane had to do now was ensure the safety of this last stretch. So she peered around the corner of the corridor, examining the path to the plain and simple, but strangely foreboding, door that was the entrance to the heart. She was ready to lead her people towards it – Not just yet. Someone was coming.

She waved her team to hold back, then focused her attention on the man who’d just appeared into view from a corridor crossing their path. Middle-aged and Japanese, he was distracted from his surroundings by the phone pressed against his ear. The drained, hollow look in his eyes marked him as a victim of the morphogenetic field; the driven purpose of the stride reminded Akane that he was still an opponent. Indeed, everything they’d seen of the people drawn to this place had reminded Akane of a cult. Maybe not as bad a cult as Free the Soul was looking to be, but enough to still make this a more immediate concern for Crash Keys.

What the man was saying did nothing to dispel that impression. “It’s almost time… It’s almost time,” he kept muttering into the phone. Whoever was on the other end of the phone call seemed to be acting like this was a normal thing to hear.

It wasn’t long until the man had passed by, the sound of his babbling receding away. Akane and her squad wouldn’t have a better chance to make to their target. Akane beckoned them forward, then stepped with purpose out into the corridor. They crossed the space with quick, soft steps and gathered in a well-practiced formation around the door.

They’d expected, going in, that the target door would be secured. Locked, guarded perhaps, maybe even booby-trapped. Akane found none of that. Instead the door opened immediately to her touch. Suppressing her surprise in front of the people she had gathered to her cause, Akane stepped inside.

And in there, in the heart of the cultists’ facility, Akane found… another corridor. This one was markedly different to the corridors they’d passed through to arrive, however. The light was dimmer, only coming from small circles in the ceiling and the occasional lamp hung on either side. Brass handrails ran along the dark grey walls. The entire corridor somehow managed to seem like it should have been a lot longer than it was; instead it was only a dozen or so metres to the other end, and the pair of doors there that led back out the other side. Those doors, made from solid oak, were decorated with intricate patterns around two golden diamonds. A spear-and-shield symbol was carved into the lock below the door handle.

Just as Akane had taken it all in those two doors swung open. For a second Akane tensed up with readiness; had they been discovered? But then Akane was put at ease. The overwhelming pinkness of Clover, at the head of the newly-arrived group, made it obvious that this was one of the SOIS squads that had infiltrated alongside Crash Keys. Beside Clover was her brother Light. And further back, escorted by the squad of extravagantly-dressed SOIS agents that were backing the Fields up, was Akane’s own brother Aoi.

“These chumps,” Aoi said by way of explanation, even as the agents surrounding him bristled warily, “didn’t feel like they could spend a moment out of my company.”

Akane smiled gratefully at him. He’d taken on the risks, to make up for her mistake. “You’ve done well,” she said in reply.

By now Clover, Light, and the agents who’d accompanied them were peering around the corridor they’d entered, curious and cautious in equal measure. Clover, who’d been examining the smaller doors leading off to either side of the corridor, suddenly perked her head up with confusion. Her nose wrinkled. She glanced first, beseechingly, at the more experienced SOIS agent searching nearby, then turned towards Akane with suspicion in her eyes. “This place feels real familiar, somehow…”

It wouldn’t do Akane any good to hide it. Even if Clover and Light didn’t eventually come to the realisation that was already on the tip of Clover’s tongue, the earpieces they all wore could connect them within seconds to someone who could answer the question for them. SOIS had gone over Building Q with a fine-toothed comb after she’d abandoned it, after all.

“It’s the second class cabins,” Akane stated, her voice unwavering but nevertheless subdued.

Clover’s eyes narrowed. “Huh?! As in, the Nonary Game… How the hell did we end up back there?”

“Not exactly. We didn’t suddenly teleport hundreds of miles. But it’s certainly a very good recreation of them,” Akane said.

Even with his eyes closed, Light took in his surroundings. “There are a great many things about here that remind me of the Gigantic, it is true. And the general atmosphere… Still, it is not quite something I recognise.”

Aoi scoffed cockily. “Yeah, sure. The two of you didn’t get to come through here, so I guess it –”

“In this timeline,” Akane interjected.

“In this timeline, right.” Aoi nodded exaggeratedly. “In any case, I guess it stands to reason you guys wouldn’t recognise it on sight.” He turned towards the side door that Clover had been examining, pointing out the plate that read ‘B93’. “Or we gonna have a look at what else they managed to put together, or what?” He opened up that door and slipped inside.

Akane went the other way, into the door labelled ‘B92’. Her first sight inside just confirmed how much this space was drawing from her Nonary Game. The same calming blue wallpaper covered the walls, the same pattern of checkered tiles could be found in the ensuite, even the box of matches and the tiny golden key that she’d included for the escape puzzle were in the carefully chosen locations she’d designated.

Light and Clover had followed Akane in. “Is there any particular reason why the victims of this mind virus would choose to recreate part of your Nonary Game?” Light asked. “It’s a peculiar choice, for the inner sanctum of a facility such as this.”

“I’m not certain, yet,” Akane replied. A half-truth.

Clover folded her arms, tapping her foot. “Well, when we work out what’s causing this whole thing, then we’ll know what you’ve got to do with it.” She glanced around the cabin. “So? Where the hell is it? What in here’s causing the morphogenetic field to get so crazy?”

Akane closed her eyes. It was true that this place, this replica of the second class cabins, was a place of morphogenetic power. The cultists had built it to be so. But at the same time… “This place isn’t complete yet. We came here too soon. Whatever’s at the heart of this, it’s not here yet.”

It wasn’t clear that Clover was going to accept that, just on Akane’s word. But the other SOIS agents had pulled out various devices and were waving them around: experimental prototypes that allowed them to test the morphogenetic field what Akane knew as plain fact.

“Damnit! I thought we were so close, too,” Clover said with a scowl. “I guess we’ll just have to round everyone up, see what we get from them.”

The SOIS agent nearest to her put a finger to her earpiece, listened carefully, then nodded at Clover. “HQ are saying that we should clear out before the ordinary police move in. Avoid crossfire. So let’s…” She cut off suddenly; when she spoke again her voice was harsher, more urgent. “Reports are saying that the opponents have spotted our infiltration points. They’ve moved guards into the parts of the construction site we used. The other teams have successfully exfiltrated, but our path is cut off. Crash Keys’, too.”

“Are we gonna have to fight our way out?” Clover asked. Her voice was half-filled with trepidation, half psyching herself up.

Akane concentrated, delving deep within herself for each and every detail she’d picked up about this facility and the people who’d been drawn their like moths to a flame. “There may be a way out, without violence,” she said. “But you’re going to have to trust me.”

- 

The two groups, now moving as one, had left the recreated second class cabins. They’d found a storeroom, and purloined from there everything they expected to need. Now they were gathered at their final resting point, sheltered just off to the side of the open foyer that took up most of the building’s ground floor.

Akane’s planned exit? Through the main entrance, in plain sight.

“Remember the one thing we know about these people,” she said. “They all just got caught up in this thing and came here. They don’t know each other. They aren’t entirely sure themselves what they’re doing here. If we move through with purpose, we’ll appear to belong just as much as any of them.”

Clover shrugged. “It’s as good a plan as any I’ve got.”

“Very well,” Light added. He held out his robe from among the ones they’d taken from the storeroom. “It seems that being compelled into strange, cult-like, garb is just something I have to expect these days.”

Strange it was, as were all the other robes they’d taken. Black divided from white into uncoordinated blobs all along the fabric, like wearing a Rorschach test.

Light turned to his sister. “Clover, please help me don this. It would be a shame to get this far and be caught out by a misplaced hood.”

After they had done so, and after all the other members of the group had put on robes as well, Akane stepped forward into the open light of the foyer. She surveyed the crowd milling about in front of her, took a single second’s judgment, and then plunged in. By an instinct trained over a decade of preparation, she knew not to be tempted to scrutinize the people she passed for their reactions. She just kept walking forward with a steady pace, hoping that those behind her – SOIS and Crash Keys both – were following her lead.

They were about halfway across the space, the towering glass of the exit coming closer and closer. No-one had noticed them yet. It had to be working.

And then one of the figures in front of her diverted from their expected path. Akane collided with them, barely stifling her gasp of surprise, and the two of them tumbled to the floor.

Akane looked down at the man who had stopped her. As the hood of his robe fell away, a kind and innocent face looked back up at her.

“…Jumpy?”

“Kanny?”

“What are you doing here?!”

“Huh? What are you doing here?! You –” Junpei’s face contorted in a desperate confusion. He mumbled, “We were investigating a missing person. Plan was for us to sneak in and see if we could find him. But you…”

Akane got up as Junpei trailed off and helped him to his feet. At this point she noticed three things. One: the imposing figure of the detective who had rowed her away from the Gigantic a decade ago. How on Earth he’d managed to disguise himself using a cultist’s robe and sneak in… His actions against Cradle had proven his aptitude for stealth, however surprising that would seem from first glance.

Second: an unnatural silence had descended on the foyer. The entire crowd of cultists had turned to face the escaping group, hollow-eyed stares boring in.

And third, Akane’s disguising robe had fallen away in the tumble.

“Interlopers!” came one astonished shout.

“Her! In the purple,” a hiss-like cry came up from somewhere in the mass of people. “She’s the one who did this to us!”

Then the crowd rushed in, a berserker wave.

Akane knew that Aoi and the Crash Keys members she’d brought with her could handle themselves. The hand-to-hand skills of the SOIS didn’t need to be mentioned. And the detective had decades of experience bringing down violent criminals. Once they could just form ranks they’d be able to hold out against these random untrained people plucked from the street.

But there was a second or two before that could come together. Grasping hands reached in towards Akane. She flinched back, flailing with her arms. And the Junpei stepped into the way, batting away a couple of the arms.

“Kanny! Run!” he cried out. Then he was yanked off his feet and drawn away, disappearing from sight into the mass of people.

Akane reached after him, but it was too late. The detective came up on one side of her, shielding her from blows, and Aoi pulled her back by the arm. “Fuck it, Akane! You can’t do anything,” he said. “Junpei’s gone.” Ignoring her protests he dragged her back into the squad of agents, who’d attained a defensive formation too late for it to count.

The cultists formed up around them, more arriving by dribs and drabs at the back as they were drawn to the commotion. For a moment a ring of no-man’s land took shape between the two groups. Then a piercing battle-cry went up, and the enemies charged.

“All hail the Funyarinpa!”

— 

Two-Pronged Strike

It was a good thing that Light Field’s character inclined him towards calm, reflective confidence and an unwavering poise. The sudden rush of attackers was enough to test even his nerves. He held his own as the melee began, but by the time he was rotated out of the front lines by the more experienced SOIS agents his muscles were aching. The attackers showed no signs of relenting.

In the centre of the defensive ring, Light joined Akane and Aoi; he could keep track of Clover as well through the flashes of her heightened emotions that he was receiving. It looked like they were all still safe so far. Except, of course for Junpei.

“We ain’t gonna last long,” grunted the detective, even as he held onto one side of the formation practically single-handedly. “They’re just gonna keep coming, until we’re exhausted.” The rumbling sounds of the fight interrupted just then, and when they subsided the detective was panting. “There’s gotta be somewhere with some cover, where we can make a choke point. Right?”

For a moment Light had expected Akane to answer. Her information on the facility had been better than SOIS’ own, and coming down here had been her plan. But her shallow, laboured breathing conveyed her current mental state as clearly as spoken words. Light decided to answer on his own initiative.

“There is still construction in progress on the south-west side of the building. Perhaps we can use that?”

“Sounds good,” the detective replied.

Light kept pace as the group pushed that way, forcing their way through the attacking crowd and across the foyer. When they reached the edge, they ducked their way, one by one, through a hole in an unfinished wall that demarcated the start of the construction. Once they’d all escaped the deafening fury of the foyer and into the sheltering quiet of the construction site the detective turned. He gave one solid kick to the supports of some nearby scaffolding, bringing the web of metal bars crashing down on top of the entrance. The pursuit was blocked off, a moment of peace bought.

Light’s earpiece – Clover’s too, and presumably the other agents’ as well – pinged at that moment. “It’ll be twenty minutes before regular law enforcement is ready to move in,” Alice’s voice came through it, the hint of worry not detracting from the clarity of her tone. “Hold out until then and we’ll see you home safe.”

As the veteran SOIS agents who had come with Light and Clover fanned out, surveying the lay of the land, Light tested out the sounds of the new environs. The first impressions seemed promising: the clear tones of metal laid out the positions of the rest of the scaffolding, the dull crumbling of shifting footsteps acted as a polite warning from piles of rubble. This was a stage on which Light could pull his full weight.

Meanwhile most of the Crash Keys members were also exploring the construction site, following SOIS’ lead. A couple had stayed behind with Aoi near the blockade of scaffolding, tending to Akane. Light and Clover approached them.

“Perhaps an explanation is in order,” Light said to Akane. “The people who just attacked us seemed very much convinced that you are to blame for their condition. They were quite aggrieved, in fact.”

Akane shrunk away under the glare of his closed eyes. Then she steadied herself, taking in a deep breath. “I included a certain item in the Nonary Game,” she stated, “in order to establish certain ideas about the morphogenetic field. It was necessary at the time, for the game to conclude as it did, and I won’t apologise for using it. But… I regret the side-effects of that choice.”

“Hah!” Clover spat. “It’s not so easy, is it? When it’s your boyfriend’s life on the line.”

“Junpei’s life has always been on the line. I accepted that a long time ago.”

Aoi grunted to himself. “I can’t believe Junpei went off like that, back when we were going through the second class cabins. Even as a joke… I should have knocked some sense into him before he could get that far.”

Light would have desired to press that further for more details. But now wasn’t the time. The sounds of the mind-virus victims on the other side of the barrier were getting louder, bit by bit, and they worked away at the pile of tangled metal. One wiry young man, working his way through a gap at the top by a desperate, manic effort, burst through into the construction site. He pulled himself to his feet, ducked under one last metal bar hanging in his way, and then ran down the side of the barrier towards them.

The clang of feet on metal told Light exactly where this man was at all times. As the attacker leapt wildly Light caught him out of the air and flipped him onto the floor.

Clover was immediately by Light’s side, pinning one of the attacker’s arms with her knee. “Hey! What are you doing? The hell’s up with you, anyway?”

Not the most precise of interrogations, but the man responded. “I just saw it, one day…” he mumbled. “I saw it, and knew that it was the Funyarinpa. That it was important.”

“How the fuck does that add up to you attacking us? Like crazies?!” Aoi said.

“Yeah,” the detective added. “You and loads of other guys left your homes, your lives, behind. What’s it all for?”

“I can’t get it out of my head. The Funyarinpa, it’s… it’s all I can think about!” The young man groaned, as though exhausted from an entire marathon’s worth of effort. “If we can make this work then it’ll make sense. I just want it all to make sense.”

By then the agents who had set off to explore the area were coming back. And they weren’t just returning in order to rejoin the group; they were backing up, slowly and carefully, attention fixed cautiously outward. Beyond them, hooded figures circled with heavy, uncertain footsteps. Just as the cultists that had attacked them in the entrance lobby were working on widening the hole that first man had used, others must have been finding their way in through other parts of the construction site. They’d settled for just watching, for now, and the crowd was diffuse. But more and more were arriving over time. They drew closer.

Light, Clover, and all the others that had stayed at the opening stepped forward. Now that their respite had come to an end, every hand would be needed to stave off an attack and keep themselves going long enough for rescue to arrive. While the detective kept an eye on the widening hole in the barricade Light, Clover and Aoi joined the defensive line of SOIS agents facing the gathering crowd of robed figures. With the sheer number of people in front of them, however unskilled, they needed to avoid being flanked: staying in formation, and using the clutter of half-finished construction work to anchor the ends of the line.

“We just need to take them out,” Clover muttered. “We can manage that.” Light felt her heightened emotions drift her thoughts towards the gun at her hip.

Light placed his hand on her arm. “They are victims in this. Just as we were,” he said.

“Yeah, sure,” Clover replied. Trusting warmth came through in her voice despite the sarcasm. She settled into a fighting stance and raised her fists.

The cultists had worked up the will, egging each other on, to encroach forward towards the territory held by the agents. Bit by bit, the momentum built up: not quite the mad rush of the foyer, but before Light knew it he was in hand-to-hand combat. Someone tried to push him back in an unskilled bull-rush. Light redirected the flailing strikes and sent the attacker stumbling back; there was a gratifying thud as they collided with more cultists coming up behind. Clover was doing just as well, fending of blows from three men at once and then delivering a swift kick to the groin of the one who faltered first.

And then one of the robed women pulled out a crowbar. She raised it high above her head and sung it down with a primal yell.

Clover screamed as she caught the metal on her right forearm; the breaking of bones was audible to even those without Light’s exceptional hearing. The crowbar wielding woman made to swing again, and Light was just able to get his left arm in the way before the rod of metal came down once more on Clover’s head.

It didn’t hurt. That arm didn’t feel any pain. Something else, coursing through his entire body… it felt much worse than mere pain.

Beside Light, Clover struggled to stay upright. “I can still…” she said through gritted teeth, “…fight. I can still do this!” She waved her left arm, as much to convince herself as to convince him. “See? I’m not –” An involuntary gasp cut off her words.

“No, Clover,” Light said. “Stay back here. Stay back, and keep your eyes open.”

“What are you going to do?”

“What I have to.” Then Light turned and stepped forward into the onrushing crowd.

Did the people in front of Light know what was allowed to him by Clover’s open eyes? Did they know what it meant for them that his own eyes were open, too?

The attackers moved to take advantage of Light stepping out of the line, hurrying to surround him. This was why the SOIS agents had been so concerned about being flanked, after all. Once one of the hooded figures was behind him they moved in, aiming a low strike at the small of his back. The woman who’d swung at Clover, who had been backing away with unsteady, stumbling footsteps, raised her arms again as she saw Light coming for her. She lashed out with the crowbar at the exact same moment.

Light dodged both strikes with an effortless lean to the side.

Even as more of the Funyarinpa cultists surrounded Light, attempting to interfere with his approach on the woman who had hurt his sister, none of it concerned him. A knowledge better than mere vision guided his actions. As long as Clover, watching over him from where he’d left her, knew where his opponents stood and what they did she could send him that information. They couldn’t lay a finger on someone with that perfect knowledge. And while such a number of attackers were trying and failing to deal with Light, the rest of the SOIS agents gained a moment of relief.

After knocking the wind out of one man and efficiently sending another off-balance and careening away, Light closed with the crowbar-wielding woman. In her panic she didn’t even attempt anything before Light grasped her wrist and disarmed her. Then he threw here over his shoulder onto the hard concrete floor.

For a moment Light was torn about what to do with her. His duty called on him to continue using his ‘advantage’ in this melee for the benefit of everyone else fighting; a bitter poison inside him reminded him of the shattering crack of Clover’s bones. Indecision held Light motionless, just for a second.

And then, all at once, all across the construction site, something changed in the voices and breaths of the Funyarinpa cultists. Light could hear every last subtlety of it.

As one, the robed figures began to retreat away from the line of agents, all the tension gone from their movements. One of them stepped cautiously forward to get between Light and the woman on the ground, kneeling to shelter her with his body, hands held in surrender. “It’s happened. It all makes sense now,” the man said to Light. The hopeful hint in his voice only grew as he continued speaking. “A truce? We don’t need to fight you anymore.”

Light’s decision was made for him. He nodded.

The man whispered his thanks and helped the woman to her feet. Then the crowd of Funyarinpa cultists melted away from the construction site as gradually and unobtrusively as they’d entered, leaving SOIS, Crash Keys, and the detective in the quiet, empty expanse.

— 

The Thing in Itself

When Junpei Tenmyouji regained his bearings he was in a small but cosy room, the half-light and the ache of his body from the rough manhandling leaving him almost drowsy. That wouldn’t be good; Junpei forced himself to stay alert and pay attention to his surroundings. The room was L-shaped, the wallpaper a pleasant calming green, and Junpei was sat at the corner of it. From there he could see the entrance door just feet away to his right, hints of an ensuite shower through a crack in a door just beyond that, and to his left a blue sofa and a glass cabinet in what was a small lounge area.

This all seemed very familiar to Junpei. Was this one of the second class cabin? From the Nonary Game? If Junpei could just check things out closer up he might be able to confirm it.

It was at this point that Junpei realised that he was firmly tied to the seat he’d been sat it.

“Hey!” he called out as loudly as his lungs could manage. “Let me the hell out of here! Goddamnit!” Would any of the hooded figures who’d carried him here be close enough to hear him shouting? Would they care, if they did?

As it turned out, one did respond to Junpei’s yells. The entrance door opened up and someone – wearing a robe with the same pattern of black and white blobs – stepped into the cabin. He went past Junpei into the open lounge space and then stopped, as though pondering.

“Why the hell did you bring me here?” Junpei spat, struggling to turn in his chair to face the man. “Who are you? Show me your face, damnit!”

The man turned. His head had been covered by the robe’s hood but under Junpei’s glare he lowered it. The face underneath was that of a middle-aged Japanese man, one that triggered a spark of recognition in Junpei the moment the fabric fell away.

“Huh? Kenji Matsuo?”

The expression of the man Junpei had been hired to find was hollow-eyed, worn down by exhaustion and anxious uncertainty. But that didn’t stop Kenji’s eyes from registering his surprise. “You… know my name?”

“Yeah. Your wife asked me to come find you. At least that seems to have worked.” Junpei sighed. “What the hell are you even doing here? Your family back home’s going crazy with worry.” It was hardly his first priority right now, but convincing this guy to go home would be the easiest solution imaginable to the case he’d come on.

“I… I didn’t have a choice. I didn’t want to hurt them, but… I couldn’t just leave it.” Kenji shook his head fitfully. “It was an accident. I didn’t mean to see it.”

“How did all this–” Junpei craned his neck as though to take in the entire towering edifice of the building they were in “–happen by accident?”

“I owe you an explanation,” Kenji replied. He turned away ever-so-slightly, and under his breath he mumbled, “I owe my wife an explanation, too.”

Junpei curled his lip into a scowl, but nodded.

“There’s one more thing that needs to happen, before anything I say will make sense to you. Don’t worry, it’ll get here soon.”

Junpei was about to get impatient, but then the entrance door opened again. Two more cultists stepped through it carrying a golden portrait frame between them. In silence they carried it to the wall at the end of the ‘L’ and hung it there, facing Junpei. It was the Funyarinpa.

Huh? Hadn’t Lotus explained him, back during the Nonary Game, that this was a picture of a dog? She’d traced it out, and he’d certainly been able to see the dog in the image. But now he couldn’t see the dog at all. There was the Funyarinpa, and nothing else.

“I just came across this picture while flicking through late-night reruns,” Kenji explained. “I ended up on this kooky show about paranormal stuff. Some sort of experiment they were doing about how more people were now able to see what was in the image?”

“Yeah, I know,” Junpei replied. He passed on the explanation that Lotus had given him a year before. “So before they did it, people would be able to see lots of different objects in the pattern, or nothing at all. Afterwards, there was an increased chance that they’d be able to see the dog.”

“But that’s not what happened.” Bitterness was laced through Kenji’s voice. “All I could see was that it was the Funyarinpa. Everyone else here has a similar story: just coming across this image by accident, seeing the Funyarinpa, and not being to get it out of our heads. We all knew that there was a place we could go, where we might be able to put our heads together and work out why this was happening to us and what it meant.”

“You sure gave us the runaround when you left Japan to come here,” Junpei said.

Kenji smiled sheepishly. “The idea just came to me. I didn’t mean to cause anyone any trouble.”

“So,” Junpei said, “you all came here. You ‘put your heads together’, or whatever. Built all this up, and made these mock-ups of the second class cabins. Then you attack my friends and haul me up here.” He made a show of struggling with the bonds that held him in his seat. “Did you actually get anything from all that?”

However rhetorically Junpei had meant that, Kenji answered with, “Yes. I think we did.” He rubbed his brow for a moment, then added. “I think we’ve worked out what the problem is. Why the Funyarinpa’s causing all of us who’ve come here such mental pain.”

“And? What is that?”

“We know the Funyarinpa is important. Every part of us is saying that it’s blasphemous to think otherwise. But there’s nothing else. We all know we have to do something, but there’s nothing in what we received to tell us what that something is.”

Not a surprise, Junpei realised. It had all started as a heat-of-the-moment joke, carried on long enough to make a point and no further. Of course there was nothing more to it than that. Was this… his fault?

Something on Junpei’s face must have conveyed what he was thinking about, because Kenji narrowed his eyes at that moment into a tight, suspicious glare. “You were there, weren’t you? When it first happened? I thought I recognised you.”

“Could have seen me from anywhere,” Junpei replied, his eyes wandering off to the side.

Kenji scratched his finger through his beard-stubble. “No… we only got flashes of it, but enough. It was you, and that skimpy woman, that punk kid, all looking at the Funyarinpa. We got enough to know you were here.” Then the man snorted. “And you recognised this room when you came in.”

“Fine!” Junpei exclaimed through gritted teeth. “It was me! I made the Funyarinpa! I’m the one who did this to you.”

Kenjo Matsuo nodded, then slowly drew closer to loom over Junpei, still trapped in his chair. “Yes. And I think I know exactly what we need to do with you.”

- 

“And so they elected me Funyarinpope,” Junpei said to the assembled group of his friends and their colleagues.

He’d come back down to the bottom of the building, with Kenji Matsuo and a couple of the other worshippers in tow, to view the aftermath of the conflict that had erupted after he’d been carried away. Now his friends stood alongside the Funyarinpa worshippers, an uneasy truce holding among them. Wounds were being tended on both sides, and one young acolyte – Junpei now knew her name was Jessica – was speaking to Clover with a stutter in her voice and her hands intertwined contritely in front of her.

On the other side of Clover stood Light, and as Junpei had finished his speech he raised his hand with a question. “Can we be sure that the various convulsions of the past few months will come to an end? It would be just terribly sad for us to remain at odds.”

“I hope so,” Junpei replied. “I’m not sure exactly how it works, but the Funyarinpa should be stabilised now. A real idea worth believing in, not just a mind-virus. That should make everything better. If it doesn’t… I’ll just have to keep working at it.”

The detective Junpei had been working with laughed heartily. “It’s a hell of a step up from being PI, Junpei,” he said. “So, what will you do now?”

It took Junpei a moment to decide, but when he did his voice was certain and unwavering. “I’m going to go with them. We can’t use this place now–” And it really was ‘we’, wasn’t it? “–but we can set up somewhere else. And when we finally find somewhere, and gather everyone together who was affected… I’m going to take responsibility for what I created.”

For a moment it looked like that was the end of it. Certainly plenty of the others thought it was: the SOIS agents gradually retreated from the building, while the Funyarinpa worshippers dispersed to clean up the detritus from the fight. But Junpei knew there was one thing left to happen.

There she was. As the rest of the crowd melted away around her Kanny stood in place, eyes fixed on Junpei. For a moment he’d been tempted to have one of his new followers keep an eye for her leaving; in the end he was glad he’d left it to trust.

Junpei stepped down off the makeshift wooden platform he’d been using. He didn’t realise the way his breath had caught in his throat until he was half-way across the distance to her. When he finally reached Kanny he didn’t now whether to leap in for a hug, to scold her, to turn and run back the way he’d came.

It was Kanny who broke the silence. “I guess it is your turn, to do the thing and then vanish without a trace.”

“This is something important. Something only I can do. You came here to make sure that what we did in Building Q doesn’t cause any more problems. If I do this, I can make sure that happens.”

“I know the feeling.” Akane glanced over towards the edge of the foyer, where her brother Aoi was watching over her warily. “I… I’ll have to go soon too, to sort out the aftermath of this. Is this really it? Again?”

That finally gave Junpei the impulse he needed to cross the last few feet and grab her hand.

“Don’t worry. Funyarinpa willing, we’ll meet again.”

— 

Epilogue: Highest/Lowest

Being one of the world’s wealthiest men came with its advantages, even in prison. Gentarou Hongou knew that well. After all he was sitting in a luxurious open-plan living room, bottom resting on the finest of sofas, watching the world go by through a widescreen television. Only a few bars on the windows were there to remind him that the barely-better-than-apes of the world disapproved of his actions. Even after his utter defeat, Gentarou had not a thing to be concerned about.

And Gentarou Hongou was bored.

All his accomplishments had come to nothing. All his ambitions unfulfilled: especially that final one, which would have established him as the greatest scientist the world had produced in the twenty-first century. Now all he had was his wide-screen TV and the chance to watch lesser people’s accomplishments. Lesser people’s ambitions.

He flicked channel over to a news broadcast. Something about some new religious movement? It seemed utterly irrelevant, at first, but then the footage switched to a press conference given by the religion’s supreme leader.

Was that the brat? Junpei? Gentarou could only tell because the elaborate vestments the young man was wearing – still somewhat uncomfortably – had a colour scheme patterned after the garish cyan and the black-and-red chequer he had worn during the Nonary Game. So this was where he’d ended up? Gentarou would never have guessed.

Junpei apologized for something or other that Gentarou had no context. He promised that things were mending, and hope for the future. All the things that, as head of Cradle, Gentarou had made subordinates do for him at these sorts of apology press conferences. Until the last one.

It was an interesting curiosity, but it seemed to have nothing to do with Gentarou Hongou. That, of course, was the most important factor.

But then Junpei unveiled something on a plinth next to him: the main symbol of his new faith. Gentarou saw a painting, the image constructed from a number of black and white shapes. At first they looked like just a random collection of abstract blobs, and Gentarou scoffed. And halfway through that breath, something clicked inside his mind. Those previously abstract shapes reaching out and connecting to each other and forming something whole – something with meaning. Funyarinpa.

Gentarou’s brain wasn’t supposed to be able to do that. He tried it again. Yes: there once again were the meaningless components, and as he stared they coalesced into a coherent concept once more. He was actually able to make that happen. For this first time, only with this Funyarinpa; one day, for anything he would put his mind to.

-

Gentarou Hongou smiled to himself with a sincerity he hadn’t had for quite some time. It had taken over a decade, and only through means entirely unexpected. But, somehow, his grand experiment had accomplished its goal after all.

[thegreenhordes]

Pristine Journal - Mother's Woes

First Entry: I bought this journal for my alchemy recipes, poisons and potions and poultices. I have so many now that organizing them is simply a must. But to my delight, my sons bought me a proper recipe book in the upper city market just this morning! I know we have the coin to spare, but I've always tried to be frugal in my personal purchases. I don't dare say no to such sweet gifts from my boys, however! Eclipse told me it was my little Penumbra who suggested the recipe book as a gift, my sweet boy. My eldest has always been the more resilient and steadfast, but Penumbra is so very observant and curious. I hope he never loses that spark. I decided to use this journal to write as I please. Life updates, reminders, perhaps planning a soiree or two? My dear husband does love a good opportunity to show off his wealth to the common ponies. Pomp that he is, but I love him so. Third Entry: Reminder: I need more Amaranth and Dulcinea flowers. I appear to be running low on Baslisk venom- I'll need to go through all the hoops and red ribbon to get more of that imported, but staying stocked up on my reagents and ingredients is always worth it. And don't forget! Eclipse has training with Captain Freefall tomorrow. I'll need to wake him up early if he's going to be able to drag himself out of bed and to the training grounds. Eighth Entry: Penumbra scared me out of my wits today! Always so quiet, that foal, but his father finds it impressive so I won't discourage too much. I was in my nook preparing ingredients I needed for a potion- Eclipse has a bit of a cold, and my remedy will fix him right up!- I turned around to look for the cave mint and found myself looking down into the eyes of my youngest. I nearly jumped out of my hide! I ask him what he needs and he just asks to watch me work. It wasn't anything dangerous today so a I allowed it, but Moon and Stars, that gave me quite the fright! I did break one of my flasks, an old one I hadn't used in a while- the label was muddled so I couldn't read what it was. I had my boy sit on the opposite side of me to keep him away from it while I cleaned. other than that, the day was relatively peaceful. Eleventh Entry: I have a bit of a fever today, and I'm feeling dizzy. perhaps I caught Eclipse's cold. Regardless, I'm staying in bed today. Thirteenth Entry: I'm still feeling a bit woozy, but otherwise fine. Next week is Penumbra's birthday, and I wanted to get some things planned. I can't believe he's going to be ten! My sweet boy. To Do: - Pick up decorations from the craftspony I hired three months ago. - Order a cake from the baker- simple decorations, not too heavy on the frosting, Penumbra doesn't like things that are too sweet. - Pick up the gift I commissioned and finish wrapping the gifts my love and I made together. - Double check the guest list to see if there will be any last minute adjustments to seating. - Start preparing the ballroom for the event! Less hasty work later if we start now. Twenty-First Entry: I don't know what happened. I just.. Collapsed. One moment we were all singing and dancing, my little boy giggling as his older brother shoves cake in his mouth. The next, everything went black. I woke up an hour ago and have been trying to piece together what happened but nothing comes to me. My love says it was sudden and that everyone was concerned. The boys were scared, as was he. It was strange... While I strained my ears to listen to my husband, I just kept thinking about how good he smells. Final Entry: Reminder: Ask the physician why my teeth look like that. [The rest of the Journal is Empty.]

[midmorninggrey]

Happy friday! For some Cal/Fenris, "[ STEADY ]: the sender rests a hand on the shaken and panicked receiver's shoulder to steady and ground them." (from shoulder touch)

Thank you for this @dadrunkwriting prompt! @lordgoretash was also kind enough to send in this prompt for Cal/Fenris.

For me, this turned out a bit heavy for an unedited piece; I hope the comfort is (kinda) there, but please take care when reading.

WC: ~1200

Warnings: Implied/Referenced Abuse

“You have to get her something, Fenris,” Cal sang over his shoulder as he picked through a basket of gauzy Antivan scarves. “You really can’t show up to Hawke’s house without something. It’s not good manners.”

Fenris stood in the middle of the market stall, the gloom of his dark armor surrounded on all sides by colorful fabric, and touched nothing. Still, the importer, a portly man with a terrible comb-over, hadn’t taken his eyes off the elf with the strange white hair and stranger markings. Cal could have slipped five of the scarves into his pockets unseen.

“You assume I’ve said yes,” Fenris said.

“It’s her birthday,” Cal reminded him. He stepped away from the scarves, pockets empty, and looked up into his friend’s glower. “Are you really going to say no to Hawke - on her birthday?”

Fenris held his gaze for a moment, seeing the challenge, then dipped his head with a sigh. “Good point.”

They decided the scarves were too loud and too cheap. The nervous vendor was happy to see them move along to the next stall.

They’d arrived in the Lowtown market mid afternoon, after the morning bustle had long cleared out. The merchants were resting their voices from their opening haggles and left Cal and Fenris to browse after only a few half-hearted offers; soon enough they would be back to shouting to get rid of their stock before dark. The bazaar no longer smelled of fresh bread, but the air was still laden with the grease sizzling off skewered meat and hot pies, kept hot over coal pits.

As they passed one such stall, Fenris slowed by the food.

“What if I were to get a gift for Barnabas?”

Cal winced. Fenris was on better terms with Hawke’s Mabari hound than the woman herself, but unlike the other ladies of Hightown, Hawke would not be charmed if her company catered to her dog’s tastes.

“It’s not Barney’s birthday,” Cal said.

Grumbling as Cal waved him over to a table lined with soaps and perfume bottles, trading the scent of charcoal for musty flowers, Fenris crossed his arms.

“Remind me why I can’t simply give her a bottle of wine and be done with it?”

Before Cal could answer, Fenris twisted beside him. Cal was quick to follow his wide eyes, scanning behind them, but, as usual, there was nothing strange to see. The Lowtown crowds milled lazily behind them. Over the years, he’d learned not to grab his sword every time Fenris jumped.

And after all, if they did come for Fenris, they’d face worse than his blade.

“She doesn’t drink reds,” Cal spoke gently. “Says they give her a headache. Here – look at this.”

Fenris brought his head forward and glared down at the peculiar bottle Cal had picked up to show him.

“This one is shaped like a shoe,” Cal said, explaining the obvious. The green glass bottle was molded into a tiny heeled boot, complete with laces. Cal figured the price was for the novelty; the bottle only held a few drops of liquid.

Fenris grimaced. “No.”

“She likes perfume and she likes shoes,” Cal protested with a laugh. “It’s really perfect.”

“Then I suggest you give it to Hawke,” Fenris said, not without a dry note of condescension.

“Is that a dare? Are you daring me?” Balancing the tiny bottle on his palm, Cal considered. “I mean, I think I could get away with it.”

“You are the only one, I suspect.”

“Hey!” Fenris’ insulting tone only broadened Cal’s grin. “You don’t even know half of the things I get away with.”

If Cal knew exactly what he’d done to make Fenris smile, he would put it in a bottle. Today, he didn’t know what had made that one corner of Fenris’ mouth curl in amusement, so Cal only stood there, grinning back, until his friend turned away.

“Sorry, wait, wait, I need to know what this smells like,” Cal said, pulling at the bottle cork. “Do you think it smells like feet?”

Somehow, the perfume smelled worse than feet. The familiar stench that came out of the glass shoe was thick like rotten fruit, sickly sweet and spiced as it coated his nostrils.

“Maker, Fenris, I don’t think this smells like Hawke.”

He tipped the open bottle towards Fenris, and, immediately, he knew he’d made a horrible mistake. What was left of his smile curdled, and the fresh color fell from his cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” Cal blurted, yanking the bottle away and trying to shove the cork back in.

“No.” Fenris was already moving away. “I need to go.”

“I’m sorry,” Cal repeated stupidly. He cursed his stiff hands and missing fingers as he fumbled, finally throwing the offending bottle back on the table. “Fen – wait!”

It was a short chase. He couldn’t have caught up to Fenris unless the elf slowed for him, Cal knew, but Fenris did not greet him when he found him in a back alley, one hex up from the marketplace. With his shoulders bunched and head hooked forward, Fenris paced.

Cal slid into the shadows beside him. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.” Fenris’ feet paused and he shook his head. “I felt - strange.”

“You’re alright.”

“No! I am not alright.” Anger raised Fenris’ voice then broke it. “This is not -”

Cal watched Fenris’ hands ball into fists, the metal joints of his gauntlets squeezed tight, and swallowed another apology. The smell of the perfume still clung to Cal’s nose, and he knew now where he had smelled it before. He had smelled the stuff in bars and brothels and back alleys like this one when old men slathered themselves in it in their attempts to feel young.

Words caught in Cal’s throat, and the silence was filled only by Fenris’ continued footsteps. Three paces past Cal, Fenris spun around again. This time, the movement was faster, more frantic; the lines of Fenris’ neck were stretched tight, and his mouth was twisted.

“Fenris?”

His friend didn’t respond, seemingly unable to tear himself away from the invisible danger. Unable to stand the panic etched into Fenris’ face, Cal did something foolish: he put his hand on Fenris’ shoulder.

The simple touch swung Fenris’ focus back to Cal. Instinct, or whatever threads of Force magic were tied to him, told Cal to fight an incoming blow. He didn’t. The blow never came.

Under Fenris’ furious eyes, he withdrew his hand, but did not move his feet.

“You’re alright – I promise. They aren’t here.”

“I know that, mage.”

The old insult, snarled through clenched teeth, drove Cal back a step, not because it stung, but because it sounded frightened.

“Okay,” Cal said. When he opened his mouth, he’d meant to say that if they were here, he would kill them. He’d meant to say that he would break their bones.

Instead, he waited quietly as the fury and fear slowly fell from Fenris’ footsteps, replaced by an awkward shuffle of shame.

“I need to go.”

Fenris had reached the end of the alley when Cal found his voice again.

“Can I walk up with you? I have a few things to square away with Aveline.”

For a moment, Cal was sure Fenris would refuse him and his cheap excuse, see-through like one of the frilly scarves. Instead, he merely nodded.

“Fine.”

[mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess]

The poll

Ficlet based off this poll

The moment he walked into his home's living room after a long, daunting day of lessons, the last thing Jin Ling had expected was to find his dad sitting on their couch, elbows on his knees, a fornlorn stare directed towards his work macbook on the glass coffee table. His eyebrows were furrowed in anger, one of his hands covering his mouth in disbelief.

It wasn't often Jin Ling saw his father like this - last time it happened, there was a stock market crash that almost sent their company reeling and that had Jin Zixuan work overtime for three months to deal with the fallout.

But Jin Ling had checked the stock market forecast for that day already and nothing else notable happened to put the company in jeopardy - so something else must have happened to have his dad stare at his laptop like it owed him money.

"Everything okay, dad?"

Without taking his eyes off the screen, Jin Zixuan huffed a disapproving "Hm."

"Where's mom?"

"Here, A-Ling." Yanli replied, emerging from the kitchen with two cups of steamy herbal tea. She set them onto the table and left a kiss on her son's forehead.

"What's going on?" He insisted, "You can tell me, I won't freak out or anything, I can take it. Did something happen with the company? Did a deal fall through or something?"

Yanli gave a long, tired sigh. "Come look, A-Ling."

Joining his father on the couch, he glanced at the laptop screen and frowned. Somebody had made a poll listing out various names (of Jin Ling's uncles, uncles-in-law and uncles-in-spirit) and asking which of them was the hottest cultivator.

Wei Wuxian was clearly in the lead, with over half of the votes, followed by Lan Wangji, uncle Jiang, Nie Mingjue, Lan Xichen... and far down the list, with a percentage switching between 0 and 1%, his dad and uncle Jin Guangyao.

"....Why are you on tumblr, first of all? And second, is this why you're so upset?!"

"This is terrible, A-Ling!" Jin Zixuan wailed, Yanli sitting beside him to rub his back comfortingly. She appeared absolutely done with the situation, however she still tried to be kind and supportive of her husband.

"It's a tumblr poll, dad." Jin Ling rolled his eyes. "Is it that important?"

"Of course it is! People don't find me attractive anymore! I used to be the third hottest after the Twin Jades! Now look at this! Lan Wangji I get, but - Wei Wuxian?! Are you serious?!"

"He is pretty hot, objectively speaking."

Jin Zixuan gasped, scandalized. "Jin Rulan! How dare you?!"

His father's outburst didn't sway Jin Ling. "What, don't you have eyes?! It's true! Do you think Hanguang-Jun would marry someone ugly?!"

Jin Zixuan huffed an annoyed breath at that, glaring even further at his laptop for a few seconds, begrudgingly seeming to agree... before his rant resumed. "And what about Jiang Wanyin then?! How is he hotter than me?! He's angry all the time! He never even had a girlfriend! Or a boyfriend! I know he's your brother, A-Li, but, he's just some guy that needs therapy! What does he have that I don't?!"

"Zidian." Both Jin Ling and Jiang Yanli responded in unison.

Jin Zixuan paused for a few more seconds, before angrily throwing his hands up. "I guess!"

Jin Ling was quite sure that if he rolled his eyes again, they'd get stuck in the back of his head. "This is so dumb."

"To you! It matters to me! I thought I was a DILF! I'm rich, I have a 6 pack, I'm a CEO - but no, everyone is wet for the fucking grandmaster of demonic cultivation for some reason!"

"I'm going to my room. I've had enough dumbassery dealing with Jingyi today, I don't need my own father agonizing over a fucking tumblr poll!"

"I made you a snack, A-Ling. It's on your desk." Yanli said, momentarily distracting her husband by giving him tea. "We are having a family dinner at the Four Seasons later, so it's just something to tide you over, okay?"

"Dinner!" Zixuan suddenly exclaimed again, beyond scandalized. "That bastard Wei Wuxian is going to be so fucking smug about this! I'd rather be fucking eviscerated than have to deal with him!"

Jin Ling sighed and dragged himself up the stairs. "You're so dramatic for no reason! That's why people don't find you hot!"