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balmasedas · 3 years

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desperado / druglord!javier peña au.

chapter one.

summary: reader is a dea agent. violence has arisen in the streets of colombia and she's determined to bring javier peña to justice. things take an abrupt turn when, instead of her finding him, he finds her and realizes they got much more interest in each other than just drug-related topics.

warnings: only +18. overall, this is smut so smutty. canon violence. detailed warnings in every chapter. spanish traductions are in the notes, though for the sake of non-spanish speakers, spanish dialogues will be minimal and not relevant to the plot.

word count: 2.5k.

You throw your sweater in the backseat of your car before exiting it. In the morning, you had dug through your boxed-up winter clothes after shivering in your shirt-sleeves as soon as you got out of your department. Now, the temperature has risen to the seventies and you give yourself a clap in the back for deciding to wear something decent underneath. Spring in Colombia is a nightmare.

The crime scene is packed with local police and DEA agents. There are no civilian spectators this time, they know better than sticking their noses in the Medellin's cartel businesses.

Upon your arrival, you don’t need to identify yourself to the uniformed men guarding the perimeter. They know you well by then. You are the only female in the team that has to deal with these kinds of situations —gruesome, gut-churning, dirty shit. Not a very much "lady-like" job, some would express. For that, you have earned yourself the title of a gritty woman. Maybe because you were gritty, maybe because you were a woman.

Sometimes, though, you find yourself wondering why you turned down some run-of-the-mill desk job back in Virginia. It would’ve been a dull routine, for sure — hideous, even; but gossiping about some flash romance between two co-workers is less taxing than having to witness five rotting corpses at first daylight.

"Jesus Christ," you lift your sunglasses to your head. Your partner, esteemed, weary agent Steve Murphy, turns around at the sound of your voice.

“You’re up early.” he asserts, with a raised eyebrow.

You purse your lips. “Had a bad night. Ran out of whisky at one am.”

Not even Hugo, or Hughie for his gringo friends, could help you. You forgot that his daughter would be celebrating her birthday and his all-night store would be closed until the next morning. Normally, you would own an arsenal of alcohol, but it has been an abnormal week and a hell of a night —starting with the spiral of violence that has arisen in the streets of Medellin.

"Well, look at the bright side: your stomach is empty," Murphy mumbles.

Looking at the bodies in front of you, you can’t agree more: their hands are tied-up to the oxidated wire behind them, hanging by their arms. They are barefoot and scantily clad. There is a visible gunshot wound in all of their front heads, some flies are already hovering around the open flesh. A quick death to eternal torture, you suppose.

"When did you get the call?" you inquire.

He fiddles with his wristwatch. "About two hours ago." you only hum in response, keeping your eyes in front of you and paying no mind to Steve who only grows impatient at your silence. "You think this was Peña's job?" he adds.

You nod in denial. "If it was, it doesn't make sense." Not one bit. "Peña works underground, quiet, like a sneaky rat. I'd even say they're more well-behaved than most cartels. So why do this?"

Why such a declaration of violence? Why draw even more attention from the authorities?

"Maybe he decided to toughen his punishments?” You scoff at his remark.

“He can do that without half the city knowing it. A ditch is much more subtle than a monument to death blocks from the US embassy.”

Murphy smirks. “Seems that you have given it a thought before, Sarchie.” you narrow your eyes. He knows you hate that nickname. Your tendencies to boss him around had brought you consequences: the unofficial title of a Sargeant. Sarchie, shortened and friendly.

“Killing someone? Yes, you. Multiple times a day.” you put your sunglasses back on and walk away. The forensic police won’t be there until the next half hour, at least, and you are too disquiet to wait around. Plus, your stomach is growling, but Steve doesn’t need to know that. “We’re gonna need their names, I’ll see what I can find. You have a little chat with the coroner and see if they can speed up the autopsy. The sooner the better, ok?” you spot the smirk on his face. You know what he’s thinking. You shut your car's door and point a finger at him through the window. A clear warning sign in your eyes. “Shut the fuck up and do it.”

(,,,)

Happy hour. You give up on the investigation and stop off at ‘Chiquita’, a popular local bar near your place. The prices are cheap, the drinks aren’t that good but they do the job. The place is crowded — hot couples with wet, glowing skin grinding against each other. Happy or horny or both. You take a mental note to have some fun later.

As you sip at your bourbon and crack your peanuts, you let yourself dwell on what you found out about your case. You finally got the names of your five guys. For that, much research wasn’t needed: All of them had their IDs in their pockets and they were exactly who you feared they were: no ones. No ties to any big names, no official involvement in any cartel — at the most, a few minor possession charges. As for weeks, your few clues have led to nowhere and the enigma surrounding the Medellin cartel seems to worsen with every minute that passes by.

You hate mysteries. Colombia’s full of them.

You take your second bourbon in one smooth shot and ask for another. You grab a colombian peso from your wallet and slide it across the wood. Your eyes stop at the picture of your parents that you carry around. It’s tiny and worn, just like your relationship with them. They haven’t heard from you in weeks, a fair deal, if anyone asked. They don’t have to deal with their fucked up daughter and you can focus on your work filled with dead ends and a ghost that haunts you while you’re awake: Javier Peña.

“¹Qué tomas, preciosa?” a velvety voice caresses your ears. A pleasant smile breaks quietly over your lips. Just in time.

You turn your head to the side. The stranger, with chocolate-skin and inviting eyes, is waiting for an answer. You tap your fingers against the glass.

"Bourbon," you say. "²Pero no me vendría mal un trago más." he grins and holds up two fingers to the barman. He sits at the empty seat beside you, he’s exuberating confidence. He’s offered you the bait and you'd taken it.

"³Algo más que se te ofrezca?"

You look him in the eyes. You know how the story goes from there. It isn’t any different than the one from last night, or the night before. As an apex predator, he's out for something to satisfy his hunger. He won't go home without reaching his goal and you're desperate enough to let him.

"⁴Sí. Hay algo más que puedes hacer por mi."

(,,,)

The fucking cat on the window has been staring straight into your eyes for the last fifteen minutes. Matias, the guy you've met hours before, is too focused on you to notice the awkward presence of the animal, so you don't bother shooing it away.

He's enjoying himself, pounding into you in a symphony of lust bites and moans. But the sound of skin on skin doesn't match the intensity of your passion for this encounter.

It's not that his performance was terrible, it was just... soft. So soft, too soft. From the sweet nothings, he gasps on your ear to the gentleness of his grip on your hip.

You aren't a sweet girl. If you were sweet, you wouldn't have traveled all the way down to Colombia to participate in the war on drugs. If you were fond of delicateness, you would've stayed inside and touched yourself to a Cristina Peri Rossi novel instead of searching for strangers at bars.

You don't like to believe you are a special case. On the contrary, you assume your attitude is the rule and not the exception. Not a hell of a woman, but a woman made of hell – waking up already worried about the hours ahead of you. How could you not? Your life is as wide and empty as the sky. Unstable, unpredictable. Anything can happen. A good meaningless fuck is the only moment you allow yourself to feel something — someone. By then, the detachment that gets you through the day disappears and raw feral emotion takes its place.

You are addicted. It's like a drug, but worse. Drugs don't have feelings, people do.

You’d grabbed Matias' hand and wrapped it around your neck a few times but your request had been ignored; you’d even pushed his ass against your body so you could get closer to a feral touch, but he had insisted on something more caring and delicate.

And delicacy just won't do.

So, after a few tries, you give up. You lay still, under his heating body, dead eyes directed at your window. No emotion whatsoever, no release. Like a numb, stiff sex doll, rooting for his satisfaction. Forgotten until next time.

“⁵Donde?” he blurts in your ear. You evaluate your options quickly.

“⁶Adentro.” Any other place would demandsñ more attention. By then, he would be aware of your passivity and asking too many questions. You don't answer questions, you make them.

His body tenses and trembles. You feel heat dripping between your legs but it doesn't come from you. He leaves a few small pecks on your neck — thankfully, the last ones for the night. Matias breathes over you for a few seconds before he gets off. You stare at the roof in silence, and when he asks if you finished, you simply nod.

You can't grasp what he says under his breath after you ask him, as nice as possible, to leave. What he does or doesn't vocalize, it doesn't matter. You won't be repeating with him. You never fucked the same person twice.

Once you hear the front door shut, still resting on your bare skin, you lit a cigarette. The room is void of artificial light, and the cat is still in the same place, with his silhouette contoured by the gleam of the moon.

"Sneaky bastard." you chuckle, then get up from the bed and slowly approach it.

You stop at the wooded frame of the window, maintaining your distance. Not too close to scare him or him to scare you. He isn't a friendly guy. He isn't even yours — just a grumpy cat that stops by your department too often demanding some food. You tried to get him to come inside before, but all you had won from your offers were a couple of scratches. Nonetheless, the cat has seen more of you than many people have. So, even though you renegade from him, you found yourself inevitably attached. He's the closest thing to a family, after Murphy, of course. But Murphy hasn't seen you on your worst, yet.

"Hope you see the same shit I see." you grimace and shake your head. "Not like that, I mean... I should choose better who to fuck with. And they should choose better too." the cat remains silent –obviously– and you keep talking. "You could make yourself useful and spook them away before I have to." he meows, you roll your eyes and decide to leave him alone. "Then again, I could do it myself if I told them I hold long conversations with the stray cat that lives in my window."

You choose to take a bath and call it a night. You glide through the living room, though before you can reach the bathroom something stops you. There's a noise outside, some glass breaking down on the streets. You can ignore it, conflict isn't a foreign subject in Colombia, especially at late hours. But then it repeats itself a second time, and the third bugs you too much for you not to grab your night robe and take a look at it from your window.

The only light pole is out of order; there's not a soul in sight; music can be heard from afar. You see nothing out of place until you do.

Your car is parked across the street. All four windows have been smashed, the tires are flat. You barely waste time cursing before you flee out of your place. You thought the night couldn’t get worse but the world has a disturbing obsession with testing your patience.

Once you take a step outside and approach your damaged car, you’re not sure where your chills are coming from. Perhaps, because of the unfriendly weather or maybe because you’re suddenly aware of how idiotic was your decision to go outside.

Everything inside your vehicle is left untouched. There weren't objects of value anyways. You find no logical reason for someone wanting to wreck a car just because —yours, of them all.

Big red warning signs color your mind. Your eyes scan your surroundings with speed. It's a dark, lonely dessert. You're now sure that what happened isn't some random event. The victim could've been to another person, but you weren't just another person.

"⁷Discúlpeme, señorita." a voice throws yourself far from the source. You reach for your gun just to find nothing there. Damn you. "⁸Está bien?" you look at the man. An old man that, at first glance, doesn't represent a threat. His voice is gentle, his voice is tinted with a caring voice. You lower your defenses, just a bit, not enough to stay around.

"⁹Sí." you mutter.

Slowly, you walk back to your apartment. Old man glues his eyes to your form and you don't take your own off from his'. Before reaching the sidewalk, you trip with something. Your back collides against a car and you're ready to apologize when the owner exits it there’s not a sign of rage in his face. On the contrary, his stare is blank and his mouth doesn’t even twitch.

Bad news.

You intend to run, but another guy blocks your passage and two more appear at each side of you. You turn over to ask the old man for help, but he’s gone along with your last piece of hope. Can’t blame him, you would’ve escaped too if you had the chance. However, you can’t and the smartest thing to do is acknowledge it and work from it.

You stay still thinking it will persuade them to opt for gentle treatment.

How naive of you.

A set of fingers dig into your arms, another one grabs you by the neck and lowers your head as they drag you into their car. Guarded by two of them who sit at your sides, a dark cloth bag is placed over your head and your wrists are restricted with a zip tie.

All you have left now is your hearing, you pick up a few things: the engine roaring, the tires burning on the asphalt as you speed off, some spanish words thrown in the air. Nothing substantial, nothing of use.

You sit in silence and wait for the worst.

#my work #javier peña #javier pena #narcos #pedro pascal #pedro pascal imagine #javier peña imagine #javier pena imagine #javier peña one shot #javier pena one shot #pedro pascal smut #javier peña smut #javier pena smut #pedro balmaceda pascal

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avaritia-apotheosis · 3 years

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Phantom Children [DP x Batman Crossover] Ch. 2

In which: Danny thinks, Talia is concerned, and we finally see Ra's al Ghul's pride an joy: the Lazarus pit

AO3 | Prologue | 1 | [ 2 ] | 3 |

---

DANNY COUNTS THE DAYS by the hours he is in the monitor room. One hour is all that he is allowed. One hour after a day of learning and fighting, of ‘yes ma’am’ and ‘no sir’ and ‘stand up straighter, boy’ and ‘remember that you have feet.’ Of being handed a sword only to have it knocked out of his hand (pickitup-pickitup-pick-it-up). Of ‘here’s eight plants, only one of them is the antidote to the poison you just ingested, and you better hope you remember the difference because this is the life you live now, Danny.’ This is what you agreed to for some time in front of a few television screen.

One hour. Sixty minutes. Three thousand and six hundred measly fucking seconds was all he got to see his family before he’s ushered back to his room. Dark. Barren. Windowless.

God, when was the last time he saw the stars?

He spent his multitude of ‘one hours’ simply watching. That was all he could do, really. Watch and collect snatches of Amity—of Before. Like torn pieces of an antique photograph, unable to be restored but too precious to throw away.

Talia would call him too sentimental. Danny would love to remind Talia that if it wasn’t for her and her freaky older-than-dirt dad, Danny wouldn’t even need to be fucking sentimental.

Breathe in for four. Hold for seven. Breathe out for eight.

Repeat.

Repeat again.

One more time.

There’s a voice in Danny’s head that sounded too much like Jazz telling him that this kind of behavior was unhealthy. The Jazz in Danny’s head didn’t exactly know why, though they’re both pretty sure that constantly watching your family and friends move on after your death probably isn’t good for one’s sanity. Especially since Danny isn’t really dead.

Well.

Dead-er.

He isn’t—

(family-love-mememe-why aren’t they looking harder-don’t they care-they care-for their own good-what about-happy-no-me-them-me-them).

Truth be told, Danny isn’t angry that everyone in Amity seemed to be getting on with their lives. God, he’s seen how his suppsed-death affected them. He can’t—he won’t be responsible for holding them back from living when he can’t even be sure if he’ll ever be able to return to Amity again.

(He’s seen what happens when someone refuses to move on. Hell, the Zone is full of it. It’s either you obsess with grief…or you try to rip it out of yourself entirely.)

Danny wanted them to live on. Be happy. (With him.)The FentonWorks portal remained under constant vigilance, and since Pariah Dark, most ghosts recognized Amity as his haunt and tended to stay away. With any major threats he could only hope that Clockwork would step in somehow and at least keep it contained. Tucker and Sam were more than capable enough to handle most of his regular rogues gallery, especially if Red Huntress was backing them up too.

Amity…didn’t really need Danny anymore to protect it.

(Family-happy-protectprotectprotect-what?-safe-not safe-not needed).

For all that they tried to find out, Danny, Sam, and Tucker never did manage to figure out what his ghostly obsession was. Sam went out on a limb and said Heroism which…wasn’t quite right but fit the bill well enough.

And what was the point of heroes?

To build a world where they aren’t needed.

------

There was a noticeable shift in her son’s demeanor after he learned of the true nature of his parentage. Though it should be noted that while Talia showed a photograph of her beloved to Daniel, she did not disclose his true identity as to Ra’s al Ghul’s orders. Her father reasoned that it was more advantageous for Daniel to develop a closer connection with the maternal side of his family as opposed to the Waynes—a name that would be more familiar and thus better viewed than the strange people who kidnapped him.

No; ‘Recovered’ would be the most appropriate term. Daniel was her child. Would always be her child, no matter who raised him.

Daniel was…quieter. Somber. His eyes glazed yet sharp—blue eyes bloodshot despite maintaining a regular sleep schedule. Like pit madness with neither the madness nor the pit; simply the look of rage that bubbles beneath the skin, close to boiling over yet never there.

He continued to watch his false family obsessively. Yet…he had taken to watching Talia as well. Quietly. Unobtrusively. Small glances at the corner of his eye. Contemplative looks with furrowed brows whenever he presumed she did not notice. He had even taken to meticulously check his reflection in the mirror; pinching cheeks and turning his face this way and that, cataloguing his features as if to find what parts of him was from her—or perhaps if there was any part of him that ever resembled the paranormal scientists he once called parents.

Even if the physical similarities were not there, the DNA testing—regardless of the anomalies found in Daniel’s genes—was proof enough that he was her son.

“You have been keeping with your diet regimen, yes?” Asked one of the League’s physicians. He pressed his gloved fingers against Daniel’s skin, brushing the ridges of his ribcage. Marring her son’s skin was a large, faint scars. Fractals branching across his torso like the branches of a gruesome tree. “You are still too thin.”

“Fast metabolism,” Daniel mumbled. He is sat on an examination table in their medical wing, black shirt neatly folded beside him. His figure, though not skeletal, per se, was gaunt. His ribs poking from his pallor skin, stomach still concave for a boy who ate double the portions than any other member of the League of Assassins. “I’ve had it since the accident, but it’s never gotten this bad.”

The physician hummed, jotting his notes down along side the results of Danny’s vitals. The exact numbers were unknown to Talia, standing as she was by the door, though she could infer the results from previous physical examinations. (Low blood pressure and core body temperature. Faint pulse, slight tachycardia,) “Do you have any ideas why?”

Daniel’s lips thinned, eyes darting to the side as he always did whenever Phantom was related in anyway. His face was too open; Talia needed to train him out of that. “My…” He took a deep breath. “Ghosts aren’t supposed to stay very long in the Material world. It lacks the ectoplasmic energies that helps them ‘stay alive,’ so to speak. Usually they can supplement some of this by filtering some of the ambient energy in the atmosphere to strengthen themselves—it’s why Amity was such a hotspot for ghosts because of the large concentration of ectoplasm in the atmosphere—but it still isn’t a good long term solution.”

He scratched the back of his head. “Since I’m still somewhat human, I’m able to spend way more time in the Material world and can substitute spending days in the Zone by instead filtering ambient energy and eating.”

The physician made another noise, the tip of his pen tapping against the side of the clipboard. “So I take it then that, as your other half doesn’t have access to this ‘ambient energy’ as you call it, it is forced to take what energy it needs from the calories you’ve consumed, yes?��

“Basically.”

“What will happen if you do not have enough calories to supplement this energy?”

Danny shrugged, a rueful smile on his face. “Dunno. Maybe this time, death will stick.”

Talia narrowed her eyes.

Such a thing will not happen. She had been forced to give up on Daniel once, and then later on she lost her youngest to her beloved. Never again.

This child was hers.

------

“Father, did you not say that the anomalies found in Daniel’s DNA were similar in composition to the Lazarus pit?”

Ra’s al Ghul did not pause in pause in his reading to look up at Talia. The bird shaped magnifying glass held steady above the ancient manuscripts spread across his desk, eyes focused on the words and figures carefully inked onto the page. “Yes.” He set aside the magnifying glass and gently flipped the page. “It is what strengthened my belief of the connection between the Lazarus pit and these spirits.”

Talia straightened. “With your permission I would like to place Daniel into the pit.”

Her fathered looked up, curious. “You forget what the pit does to those who are in good health.”

She placed the results of Daniel’s most recent physical exam on to of his desk. Ra’s sat back in his chair and idly flipped through the folder, reading the contents as if no different to reading the newspaper instead of how his grandson is slowly being starved by his own biology. “Well, well. This would be a problem.”

He closed the folder, a wry grin curling at his lips. “Have him ready for tomorrow. I am curious as to how the pit would affect one already half-dead.”

------

Danny is awoken by Talia sometime the next day. “Come,” she said. “You do not need to change, so come quickly.”

He got off the bed with a silent groan, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with the heel of his palm. “Where are we going?”

“Not far. Somewhere that will help you.”

He snorted. “Letting me go home would help me.”

Talia doesn’t answer, simply waiting for him at the door. Danny groaned, combing away as much of his bedhead with his fingers as he followed her.

For the first time since being dragged to Nanda Parbat, Danny is allowed to venture beyond his small section of the compound.

He didn’t really know what to expect.

Still didn’t stop everything from being so…anticlimactic.

Beyond the steel door, normally kept locked and guarded by two of his shadow guards, was a hallway. Endlessly long with a wide pathway, lit enough by the fluorescent lights overhead but not enough to banish the shadows that clung to the stone walls. The hallway looked empty. ‘Looked’ being the key word, here. Even if he couldn’t see them, Danny would bet on his half-life that the shadows were teeming with life.

Talia led the way through the maze of twists and turns (were they underground?), a couple of shadow guards quietly following behind them.

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?”

Talia looked at him from over her shoulder for a moment, then turned away. “Have you heard of the Lazarus pits?”

“Lazarus? Like the guy who came back to life?” Neither of his parents were really religious. His dad only really Baptist in name because he was born into a Baptist family that, too, wasn’t overly strict in their religion. The only reason why Danny knew of this Lazarus guy was because of Mr. Lancer’s unit on Greco-Roman and Christian allusions.

Talia nodded, turning a corner. “The Lazarus pits are natural pools with restorative properties, capable of rejuvenating the body, healing grievous injuries, and even bringing the dead back to life.”

Danny nearly tripped over his own feet. “What? That’s—” Impossible. He ran up to Talia, wildly gesticulating with his hands. “What’s dead is dead. Resurrecting the dead goes against the natural law of the universe!”

“Well, you seem to be doing fine.”

He frowned, crossing his arms. “That’s different. I’m still dead, even if my entire existence seems like the but end of a Schrodinger’s joke.”

“Be that as it may, what I speak is truth.” She stopped in front of a door and opened it. Then, stepping aside to usher Danny in first. “See of yourself.”

Danny stepped inside, Talia following behind him, and—

Oh.

Before he even saw the pit, he could feel it. A low and steady hum reminiscent of the ghost portal. But…different. Not necessarily fainter but garbled, like hearing someone speak underwater.

The room was a large, open space, with stone walls framed by red wooden pillars. It was dim, lit only by the green glow of the pit that consumed the majority of the space. A square pool of too-clear waters and toxic-looking steam rising from the surface.

The waters felt of the Zone but…not.

“Ah, Daniel.” He nearly jumped out of his own skin. Ra’s al Ghul stepped out of the shadows behind him, hands folded behind his back. The green glow highlighted the sharp contours of his face; the shadows that clung to him only making his visage harsher. “It is good to see you.”

Danny greeted the Demon’s Head with a League salute. “Grandfather.”

The word felt foreign on his tongue despite being in English. To formal for a boy who never really had the chance to interact with his own grandparents. But Danny was told to refer to Ra’s like this, and so he did. (He was only grateful Talia didn’t insist on calling her ‘mother.’)

Ra’s al Ghul was an enigma. Centuries old yet he looked only about a decade older than his mom and dad. (Jack and Maddie Fenton will always be his mom and dad. They raised him. Loved him, in their own eccentric, science-y way. No blood test or adoption or ninja-assassins could change that). Like Danny’s still-unnamed biological father, Ra’s carried himself with theatrical purpose. Comically villainous in his attire and grand gestures, though unlike Vlad, Ra’s had this overwhelmingly intimidating presence that engulfed whatever room he stepped in.

Ra’s was a man that commanded attention as opposed to demanding it. And now, at the focus of the man’s calculating gaze, Danny could not help but stand stiff at attention.

“You’re mother was right,” Ra’s said. Danny barely restrained himself from perking up at that word. “You are wasting away, Daniel.”

Tell me something I don’t know.

“Well, at least you still have that fire in you.”

Danny startled, slapping his hand over his mouth. Shit, he didn’t know he said that out loud. Out of the corner of his eye, Talia suppressed a small smile.

“You have that in common with the Detective,” Ra’s continue, circling Danny like a carrion that spotted its next meal. “That and the rather foolish notion on not properly reporting the extent of your injuries.”

“With all due respect, grandfather, I wasn’t expecting on staying here for this long.”

Ra’s gave him a knowing look. “But something is keeping you here, isn’t it?”

“Keeping my family and friends hostage is a pretty good motivator, apparently.” An insidious thought bubbled in Danny’s mind. But that isn’t all, is it?”

“I have consulted your mother and your physician as to the nature of your condition, and I have decided that the Lazarus pit would be a sufficient way to restore your health.” He gestured to the pool. “It appears that your DNA shares several similarities to the composition to the Lazarus pit.”

Danny crouched at the edge of the pit, hovering his hand above the water’s surface. “It’s because it contains ectoplasm. An impure kind, I think.”

“Will the impurities be harmful to you?”

He pursed his lips. “I don’t think so? My body can filter out the impurities just fine, it’s just that I’ve never encountered thistype of ectoplasm before. It’s so clear and—aqueous, I think is the word.”

There’s a strange glint in Ra’s eyes. Dare Danny say it, it even looked mischievous. It made him uneasy, and just as Danny made a move to step back, Ra’s al Ghul picked him up by the collar of his night shirt—

And threw Danny into the Lazarus Pit.

#danny phantom #batman #danny phantom x batman crossover #phantom children.txt

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astraeagreengrass · 4 years

Text

exile [the woods part 1]

When you wake up in the floor of your apartment, you have no idea of how much the world has changed

Word Count: 2.708

Warnings: angst, mentions of death and death-related themes, PTSD, brief allusion to a panic attack.

A/N: A month ago, Taylor Swift released her eight studio album folklore and, unsurprisingly, it took over my life. The stories Taylor beautifully narrates in her songs inspired me to write something of my own: the woods is a four-part, post-Endgame story, with some slight changes to the canon, featuring Steve Rogers. Updates will be every Friday. Thank you to @xbuchananbarnes for proof-reading this and @thegetawaywriter for encouraging me to write. The banner picture was found here. Dividers are from @writeyourmindaway. Here is exile. I hope you like it ♡

i think i've seen this film before and i didn't like the ending you're not my homeland anymore so what am i defending now? you were my town, now i'm in exile, seein' you out i think i've seen this film before so i'm leavin' out the side door

Being pieced back together was like a hangover.

Like drinking too much wine one evening and then waking up on a foreign bed, not knowing how you got there. It was a pounding headache, a churning stomach, a dry throat. The back of your teeth were sensitive and the sound of sirens rung too loudly on your ears.

In the aftermath of your intoxication, the city is deafening.

You groaned at the light - you must’ve been so wasted if you’d forgotten the blinds. Every breath took a toll of your lungs, stretching your muscles beyond their strength, creaking your joints as you exhaled.

Someone gasped, startling you.

The familiar floorboards of your apartment greeted you when your eyes opened. Timeworn almond timber, the New York staple. Craning your neck, you saw a foot. Shit. You weren't one to bring one night stands home, or actually have them in the first place. Little ol' you was a little too square, a little too cautious, struggling to keep her trust issues from spilling out of her hands. Definitely not the best candidate for loose-stringed affairs, but your grandma always told you there was a first time for everything.

The foot’s owner nudged you, and you groaned again.

“Miss?” they said. “Are you alive?”

I don’t know.

Your gaze focused and you noticed the person was a boy of eleven or twelve, with a beautiful dark mop of curls and soft brown eyes. What the...

“Who are you?” you managed to croak. There was an ashy taste in your mouth, as if you’d swallowed dust.

The boy looked up and across, and you noticed that, on your left side, his father was crouching beside your body. He looked just like the kid, except a couple of decades older, so you assumed he was the father.

“My name is Cal,” the man said, spacely, as if he’d might frighten you if he spoke normally. “This is my son Daniel. We’re not going to hurt you.”

"Nice to know the invaders won't hurt me," you tried to say, but it came out a jumbled, messy current of words, like a baby first learning to communicate.

"Invaders?" the boy exclaimed, insulted. "We live here!"

"Daniel!" his father chided. "Miss, what is the last thing you remember?"

You pressed a palm to the ground, trying to lay your weight on it so you could stand up. You weren't about to answer an unknown man's questions while laying face-down on your own apartment floor. You might be hungover, but you had more dignity than that. When your body crumpled like a twig under a boot, Cal held you up, helping you to a seating position facing the window.

Craning your neck to shield your eyes from the sun, you noticed it.

Golden brown leaves.

Golden brown leaves that shouldn't exist in May.

You clearly remember opening the windows yesterday to green, lively foliage. New York was many things - loud, chaotic, more often than not dangerous - but it’s seasons were consistent, enduring. Through the tempests and disturbances, nature persevered in her year-long cycle, living and dying and living again.

These particular leaves belonged to October, perhaps even early November, never May.

Something was terribly wrong.

“What day is it?” you whispered, wide eyes going from the window to the man aiding you.

Cal grimaced. His boy was suddenly very quiet.

When you were a child, you used to have nightmares: a ghost in the attic, a wolf haunting the woods outside your house, an IED blowing up your father's convoy in Iraq. They'd trap your consciousness, suffocating your mind with fear and panic, and no night light or teddy bear could stifle the onslaught of relentless screams that rattled the walls and hallways of your childhood home, until your frantic grandmother shook you awake. The reality that greeted you on the floor of your apartment was that Twilight Zone all over again.

“Please,” you pleaded, perhaps to the man, perhaps to yourself.

Cal sighed.

“Today is October 17th, 2023,” he said and you learned that the only thing scarier than a nightmare is life itself. “You’ve been dead for the past five years.”

“We could go to the house in the woods,” you mumbled to the warmth of Steve’s chest.

He tightened his hold around your body, pressing a feather-light kiss to the crown of your head.

“Whatever you want,” he said. “You’ve got me for the weekend.”

“The whole weekend?” you smiled at him, finding the reassurance you needed in his indigo gaze.

Steve kissed you again, a fierce press of lips this time. Mouths and tongues and teeth intertwined, your hand finding hip, his hand finding you thigh.

“The whole weekend,” he breathed in the shell of your ear, right before the two of you became nothing more than a mess of pillows and sheets, drowning in love and want and lust. “And then forever.”

When the world ended, several hospital units closed down due to lack of patients.

When the Avengers managed to reverse the effects of the Snap - no one knew how they did it, but everyone knew it was them because of course it was - the mayor of New York declared the interruption of all kinds of activities in the city in order to help those returning. It was in a campaign hospital in Bryant Park that Steve Rogers found you, sitting up cross-legged and wrapped up in a grey blanket, having your temperature checked by one of the volunteers.

Wearing dark clothes and a cap, Steve was nothing more than a shadow behind the woman's shoulder. A lesser-trained gaze would glide past his figure in a quarter of a second, but not you. Never you. You'd recognize him in a sea of people, as if the blood that sustained you and the bones that built you knew exactly where to find him.

Steve had the decency to wait until the woman was done to approach you. With slow, clearly measured steps, he came closer, taking a seat at the foot of your stretcher. If he reached out his arm, he'd touch you, but he refrained and you were glad he did. In your mind, you saw him days ago, but reality told you differently. The calendar at the nurse's station, the newspaper you got a hold on, the constant broadcast of news: all of them mocked you, tormented you. Five years had gone by - more time than you’d ever had with the man across from you. And if there was ever any lingering doubt in your mind that this was some elaborate trick to fool you, they faded when you noticed the modest signs of aging that nothing but time and grief could inflict on a Super Soldier.

Again, a lesser-trained gaze probably wouldn’t catch them, but that would never be you when it came to Steve Rogers.

The two of you stayed in silence for minutes, watching a CNN report of a family reuniting in Idaho. The mother snapped right after the birth of her daughter - now a little girl with ginger pigtails, hugging her legs and kissing her hands. Everyday since you woke up on the floor of your apartment, there'd been thousands of stories such as this: parents finding children, husbands finding wives. The fallen - that's what the press called people like you, the dead that weren't really dead - all had the same lost look in their eyes. You supposed that's what happened when your clock was five years too late.

“What happened?” you finally asked when the broadcast changed to twin brothers reconvening in Hawaii. “What went wrong?”

Steve didn’t look at you, instead he kept pulling at a loose thread on the hem of his shirt.

“He was too strong,” he sighed. “And I thought I could fight him without Tony, but…”

You nodded.

“One of the nurses said he was badly wounded in the battle upstate,” you mentioned.

“Yeah,” Steve agreed. “But he’ll recover. Banner is looking after him. He’s got a kid now, you know? Tony. Her name’s Morgan.”

“Wow,” you smiled genuinely. “That sounds unbelievable and incredible at the same time.

“She’s a good girl,” Steve said. “Keeps Tony on his toes.”

On the TV, the two brothers embraced with a beautiful sunset as background.

“What about Sam and Nat?” you wondered.

Steve's fidgety hands stilled. With the left one he rubbed his mouth and chin until his skin was reddish.

"Sam was like you," he muttered and the implicit words hurt more in his voice than anyone else's. "Natasha… She didn't make it."

She didn't make it.

Natasha Romanoff. Natalia. Your mentor, your friend. The strongest woman you'd ever met. She didn't make it.

"What?" you gasped. "What do you mean 'she didn't make it'? Didn't she come back?"

Like Sam and the mother in Idaho and the twins in Hawaii. Like you.

Steve shook his head.

"It wasn't like that," he said. "She survived the Snap. Spent years trying to find something, anything, even the smallest possibility of getting everyone back and when we finally did… She sacrificed herself so we could have the Soul Stone."

"Sacrificed herself? For a stone?" you were extremely agitated now, the grey blanked falling from your shoulders as you looked at Steve searching for any sign of emotion. "Steven, look at me!"

His eyes were glazed, a big blue sea threatening to spill over in waves of sadness.

"It wasn't a simple stone, Y/N. I'd rather not explain to you here, people can't know about this," he whispered, looking over his shoulder for anyone that could be listening.

"You mean they can't know why they disappeared and were brought back together like broken toys?" you exclaimed. "Toys that the Avengers can grab and then toss aside however they please? I'm not your toy, Steve!"

You knew you could be cruel. Ruthless. A child yelling ferociously at the top of her lungs until she got what she wanted. An angry teenager. An intelligence officer with obscure morals. But even when he left you without a goodbye, you'd always kept your forked tongue away from Steve Rogers.

Until now.

"Please," Steve pleaded. "Let's go home. I'll explain everything to you when we get there."

"I have no home," you spat. "I had a home three days ago when you came in saying something bad would happen, only to leave me again. Now I have nothing!”

Your tears were hot when they streamed down your face.

“I don't even know myself anymore,” you admitted and somehow that was worse than knowing you were alone in a world you didn't recognize. "All I know is dust. My bones were dust and now they're not. My heart was dust and now it's not. Everyone keeps telling me that I'm safe and that 'it's all over', but what is?"

You gasped, trying to breathe in some tranquility and breathe out some of the agony twisting your insides, but all that came out was a distressing wheeze.

"How do I know that I will not disappear again?" you cried and there was no more Steve, just a curtain of water contorting his figure, like one of those paintings he loved and you never understood the meaning.

The stretcher creaked when Steve pulled you to him, rubbing your arms back as he whispered your name.

"Breathe, Y/N. Breathe."

But you were so scared of breathing. So scared that you'd taste ash again and your lungs would collapse in dust, leaving not a shred of the person you were for people to remember you by. So scared of losing a game you didn't even know you were playing.

"Steve..." You weeped, gripping his shirt tightly.

"I'm here, my love. Just breathe."

You weren't expecting him.

After two years, the hope that kept you up at night waiting for him grew tired, dwindling until it was mere utopia. So you shut the windows, changed the locks and turned off the bedside lamp. Perhaps that's what brought him to your door, you thought. Maybe, wherever he was in the world, he felt your devotion waning, so he returned to haunt you.

You had to admit, though, that of all the ways you imagined Steve Rogers coming back to you, him ringing your doorbell at midnight wasn't one of them.

He looked handsome, with shaggy blonde hair curling at his ears and a beard, and it hurt like a punch to the stomach.

It's hard when the one that hurts the most you looks so unfazed, meanwhile you're just a shell of what you used to be.

"You've lost weight," was the first thing he said, as if he'd left to grab groceries instead of becoming an international criminal.

"What are you doing here?" you replied, ignoring his greeting. If that could even be a greeting.

He sighed, mentioning with his head to the hallway behind you.

“Can I come in?”

You stepped aside, letting him walk through. You didn’t bother turning the key because if anyone really wanted to get to him they wouldn’t be worried about leaving your door in one piece. Steve stood in the middle of the living room, his hands on his waist. An onlooker would never guess that he once belonged there.

“Did you hear about Tony?” He asked when you sat down at the armchair next to the window. The one you bought together in Ikea and Steve insisted he could assemble on his own.

“Yes,” you said. Tony Stark went missing after an alien ship appeared in Midtown. It was exactly the kind of disaster that would bring Steve Rogers to New York. “Have you found him?”

“No,” he replied. “But the same aliens that took Tony attacked Vision in Edinburgh. We managed to stop them from killing him, but he’s badly wounded. When he heard about Tony we flew to the Compound.”

You nodded. It was strange how you could feel so detached from these people- Vision, Wanda, even Tony in a way. They were once your friends, your colleagues. Now they just felt like characters in Steve’s tale - no longer part of your life, only his.

“And why are you here?” you asked.

Why did you come to the home we used to share? you meant to say. Did you miss it? Did you miss me?

He shrugged.

“I thought maybe you could’ve found something on Tony and…”

“If you went to the compound it means you saw Rhodey and Rhodey has most definitely told you that I quit my job when the Avengers split,” you interrupted him. “I have no tech, no machinery, no means whatsoever to find Tony here, nothing that Rhodey has at his disposal Upstate. So why are you really here?”

He was a stranger. Cold and detached, like the house that once trapped him. There was no tenderness in the blue of his eyes.

“Something bad is coming, Y/N,” he said. “I’m not sure what it is yet, but I… I wanted to see you. I wanted to know that you were safe.”

You thought Steve Rogers was done breaking your heart. You thought that when you stopped expecting his return you’d go back to who you were before him, even if you couldn’t find that girl amongst the mess he made of you. You thought you’d be safe from love, and trust and kind soldiers with blue eyes, but you’d never be safe from him - your fellow and your foe.

“Is that all you wanted to say?” you croaked, holding back the tears swimming in your throat with a cough.

Steve fisted his hands, and for a moment you swore that he was stopping himself from holding you. But he just hung his head, tearing his gaze from where you were sitting by the window.

“Just stay home, ok?” he stated. “Try not to leave the house until this situation is resolved.”

Then he turned around and left again.

#steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #captain america fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel fan fiction #marvel fanfic series #my writing #corneliabarnes #the woods

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halothenthehorns · 3 years

Text

THE EGG AND THE EYE

Despite Remus' rather tired eyes as he never enjoyed being active any days preceding or following the full moon, and it wasn't helping the ever growing fear of the next task creeping closer, Remus wouldn't deny he couldn't think of how better to be spending his time as he got started.

Harry wasn't sure how long this bath would take, so he chose to do it after school hours so he could take his time.

"You make it sound so difficult to lock a door," James shook his head.

"I think he's just making up excuses for using that Prefect bathroom, and after hours is the best time," Remus smirked.

Harry ignored them both.

Though still not wanting to take any advice from that Hufflepuff, Harry also chose to use the prefects' bathroom, at least fewer people were likely to be in there.

Harry grumbled something about how he still wasn't going to admit they were right, it's not like he'd wanted to go in there just because he'd heard rumors about how cool that place was, and they couldn't force him to say otherwise.

Harry had to be careful with this excursion, he'd been caught out of bed by Filch once before,

"The fact that you've only been caught once is what gets to me," Sirius shook his head fondly.

"By our fourth year we'd caught up with him as much as any teacher," James agreed.

"And you only got caught that time because you forgot the cloak," Remus snorted. "If you'd paid attention a little more, even then you would have gotten away with it."

Harry wasn't sure if they were teasing him for not being as trouble making as them again, or trying to mock him for that experience again, either way he chose not to answer.

and had no want of a repeat. He made sure to have his Invisibility Cloak on him,

"At least he'll remember it this time," Lily reminded to get the boys to stop smirking.

and the Marauders Map.

"The two kind of go hand in hand," Remus agreed.

On Thursday night,

"Why did you wait almost a whole other week?" James asked.

"Homework," Harry used as a main excuse, but also adding, "plus I spent a few nights making sure I could walk down there and scout the place out without getting caught."

"Look at you, finally showing some forethought," Sirius praised.

Harry slipped through the common room much like he had the night he'd gone to visit Hagrid, waiting for Ron to open the portrait hole to get out.

"Still think that one's a bit too paranoid on your part," Remus rolled his eyes. "No one ever pays much attention to that."

Harry made his way down to the correct door, whispered the password, and stepped inside before locking the door behind him. His first impression was it would be worth being a prefect just to use this bathroom regularly.

"Well now you can without the responsibility," Sirius smirked.

"You're lucky you never got caught in there," Remus reminded him, "or I would have most likely gone down with you. Then of course I would have had to pay you back for getting me into trouble."

Sirius had a challenging smirk in place as he stated, "wouldn't be the first, wouldn't be the last."

Candles softly lit the marble chamber, a large rectangular shallow pool filled the main portion of the room with a hundred golden taps all around the edge each encrusted with a different jewel, along with a diving board.

Harry's mind was starting to gape a bit at such grandeur. A diving board for a bathtub! The splendor of the castle had always seemed like a lot to the boy from the cupboard, but this new leap of wealth still somehow managed to surprise him.

Fluffy towels were in a cubby in the far wall, and opposite that was the stained glass image of a blonde mermaid fast asleep.

Then Harry felt a zap pelt his brain, now blinking spastically as he was sure that should have meant something more to him, but was instantly distracted by Remus trying to cover up some laughter. He quickly smothered it and explained for Harry, "I don't know who conjured up that image, but it's the farthest thing from what Merpeople actually look like."

Harry was very sure that news shouldn't have come as a surprise to him, but simply nodded in understanding.

Harry's footsteps echoed a bit as he walked up the few steps leading to this, and though he was very impressed and aching to try all those taps, now that he was here he was more sure than ever Cedric might be playing him.

Remus was suddenly distracted as well from Harry getting to find this new place, to his mind spinning back to that noise again and why Cedric would have lead Harry hear. Water, in the Prefects bathroom, it couldn't have anything to do with that particular painting of the mermaid? He'd only ever heard descriptions of them, but apparently they had a beautiful singing voice, underwater. Above water it was a senseless high pitched noise. He was immensely curious to know if this had been what Cedric had figured out, but even if it was, what would the second task have to do with Mermaids? They were bottom dwellers, even in the Hogwarts lake they were only rumored to have come to the surface once in the school's history. He kept the thought to himself for now until he was more sure of this.

How was this place going to help him solve his egg?

He was already here, so he decided to enjoy himself anyways, setting all of his stuff aside as he got to work. Every tap shot out water the perfect temperature he wanted, and each was also mingled with magical bubbles. One set such a thick foam Harry could have sat on it, another left a purple mist hanging just above the surface, Harry's favorite was the one that shot patterns in the water's surface.

"I used to spend hours playing with all of those taps," Lily agreed fondly. "Sometimes I'd even drain the water again just to watch them fill all over again."

After a surprisingly short time to fill, Harry slipped inside and treaded water for a bit, his feet barely touched the bottom.

Harry was surprised at his own daring at that, as he'd never learned to swim. Though he supposed being in there by himself was a good way to practice and it didn't seem deep enough that so long as he didn't try anything foolish he shouldn't have a problem.

After a few laps, Harry went back to the edge and picked up his egg, but still had no new revelations for it. Even opening still created the same cacophony, if not worse because of its new echo. He'd been leaning over the side concentrating so hard, he dropped the egg with a start when someone spoke,

All five of them couldn't help but startle a little as well. That's all Harry needed, to get caught and in trouble on top of this tournament mess.

telling him to put the egg in the water.

"Guess that's better than, what on earth are you doing in here," James raised a surprised brow, trying to figure out who'd catch him there and not tell him off.

Harry swallowed a large amount of bubbles in surprise as he spun around, seeing a ghost sitting on a nearby tap.

"Oh hey, Myrtle's back," Sirius said, relaxing back at once.

"Why is she in there?" Lily demanded around a squeaky voice, her hand already twitching like she was going to cover her modesty now.

"We told you she went snooping through some of the other bathrooms," Remus snorted at her surprise. "Why would you think this one was excluded?"

"Did she really spy on me though?" Harry couldn't help but fidget at such a perversion of privacy.

"Well yeah," Sirius couldn't help but give Harry a sad little smile, "but I like to at least pretend she closed her eyes while you were changing."

Harry still couldn't help a disgusted shiver, even with his memory finally being soothed of why he'd wondered he would run into the ghost again in another bathroom, this wouldn't have been his choice of moments.

It was Moaning Myrtle.

Harry yelled at her in shock, stating he wasn't wearing anything! The surrounding water was thick enough this wasn't the point, but Harry suspected she'd been around longer than he'd been in.

Myrtle told that she'd had her eyes closed when he got in,

Even with Myrtle having said it herself didn't make the shivers quite stop.

and then reminded how he hadn't come to see her in ages.

"Can't imagine why," James scowled at the reminder of that Chamber. Myrtle used to be something funny to think about, she was always a good laugh and sometimes even helpful considering all the times she'd spied on people in the bathrooms and if cajoled right she'd pass along the information. Now all he could think about in relation to that ghost was a basilisk fang.

Harry floundered for a moment, still keeping his knees bent so all Myrtle could see was his head,

Sirius wanted to make a comment about that, but actually managed to restrain himself with Lily still looking flustered and her husband in the room.

before reminding he wasn't supposed to be in there, it was a girls one.

"Bit of a pointless thing to say after spending half a year in there," Remus snickered.

Myrtle reminded he didn't use to care, he'd been in all the time.

"Not for the exclusive company though," Harry muttered.

While that had been true in his second year, this was only because of the private location so they could brew a secret potion. Aloud he told her that he'd been caught for going in there, which was half true, Percy had once told them off for coming out.

"Yeah, and I know how you always listen to everything Percy says," James stated with the utmost sincerity.

Fibbing he hadn't gone in after that.

Myrtle was not impressed as she switched back to telling Harry to put the egg in the water, that's what Diggory had done.

"How often does she spy on people in there?" Lily demanded, her voice still a little too pitchy than normal, the Marauders were taking this far to casually in her opinion.

"Don't know, never kept a record of her or anything," Remus shrugged.

"Often enough it wasn't exactly a surprise if we found her in there," James couldn't help but laugh a bit at his wife's continued squeamishness over this. She was just a harmless ghost, he was honestly convinced she did it more for attention than pervy intent.

Harry demanded how often she spied on people?

Myrtle just said sometimes, though Harry was the first she'd spoken to.

"Because that's so much better," Lily groaned. "How did you know she was there then?" She asked of the boys.

"If Harry had been keeping his eye on the map, he would have seen her show up," Sirius reminded.

"How on earth does that thing work," Lily demanded of them. "Ghosts aren't alive, why would she register?"

"The Homunculus charm," Remus said like that explained everything.

Lily looked honestly surprised, but Harry had no clue what that was so she told him, "the charm marks where everyone is in a specific location so long as they have even a vague human mind. Like the ghosts and Peeves would be included," she added on for herself. "It just never occurred to me that was the spell they used, because I could never find the incantation, just mentions of it in old texts."

"Sirius found it in a book from his house," Remus shrugged.

"There's a lot of musty old stuff in that place," Sirius rolled his eyes, "I got bored and looked through it at one point, came back and found it a few years later when it actually came in handy."

"Would the basilisk have shown up on the map?" Harry asked, thinking normal pets like Crookshanks never had, but then Mrs. Norris had so was the giant snake stretching it?

"Nope," James stated, "not human like enough."

"So how come Filch's cat's on there?" Lily demanded of them.

"She got her own separate charm to track her," Sirius grumbled, "we realized that mistake and added it after the fact."

Harry sarcastically snapped back how honored he was, telling her to keep her eyes shut as he crawled out.

He made sure she wasn't looking as he dried off and went after his fallen egg, then set his towel aside again and slipped back in. Myrtle looked up after that, repeating for him to stick the egg in the water.

Remus was instantly distracted from his old pet project and was now much more focused on seeing if his idea was right. He couldn't think of too many other creatures that this would apply to...

Harry opened the seal beneath the surface, but among the new bubbles no screeching echoed underneath, instead Harry could swear he heard gurgling singing.

"Oh," Remus smiled in triumph at the exact moment the other three stated in surprise.

Harry gave an agitated little sigh, he was sick of always being the one things to had to be explained to, but didn't question it as he had a gut feeling he'd come to his own conclusions on this soon enough and watched impatiently as Remus happily yelped, "it's mermaids."

"What does that have to do with a triwizard task?" Sirius demanded grumpily, the first one had been bad enough, and this wasn't starting off much better. Those creatures were rumored to be as vicious and territorial as dragons, with the added bonus of drowning their victims to death rather than setting them on fire.

"No clue," James tried to shush him and wave him quiet so he could hear this.

Myrtle told Harry he had to be underwater as well to hear the words, and when Harry hesitated she got a bit bossy by telling him to get one with it.

"Guess she doesn't get the opportunity much," Lily grumbled, though even she was finally distracted from the ghosts habits to pay attention to this.

Harry took a deep breath before ducking down as well, and finally heard:

Insert mermaid song

"That, was not encouraging," Remus' smile slipped right off his face as the full impact of the challenge sank in.

"Hang on, read that again," James requested, sure he'd heard a bit wrong.

Remus obliged, to the now stunned faces of the others.

"What's this on about an hour?" Lily demanded as she began biting at her lip at once at the thought. "What are you looking for?"

"Another bit to lead you to the last event I guess," Sirius sighed, but even as the worry started flooding him he couldn't deny at least this sounded more bearable and doable than the first.

"I'm still stuck on that part where they took something," James grumbled, running his hand through his hair in thought. "Are you looking for two things, or is the challenge personalized?"

"I really don't like the sounds of this," Remus groaned the more he thought about it. "They're only giving you a pinch more information than the first time, and it still seems as deadly as ever." He was still categorizing everything he'd ever heard about mermaids as well as aquatic life in general, none of it exactly pleasant, and all very hard to deal with inside the water where only a few select spells worked properly.

"Let's look on the bright side," Lily tried to keep their attention. "Least now he has something to work with, and I'm sure Harry'll figure it out," she gave him a winning smile at the end.

Harry wasn't as sure as her, unable to erase the nasty feeling that this was hardly his favorite challenge and he'd still take the dragon back, but didn't argue the point either.

Harry came back to the surface for air, tried to recite it, but then had to go under a few times before he got it right. Then he set the egg to the side again, and began swimming a few laps as he thought it all out.

Myrtle called him slow for not guessing who this could be about, while smirking down at him.

"No," Remus snapped at once, as he'd noticed that look on Harry's face. It must be annoying to constantly have things explained to him, then and now with his lapse of the magical world, but that was hardly his fault as he stated, "it's not exactly a common problem for many wizards, I'm positive it'd be just as hard to work out for the other champions."

"You guys figured it out in like, a second," Harry grumbled.

"We," James quickly corrected as he gestured at first Sirius and himself, "have a running expert on all things beast," now waving vaguely at Remus who was squinting at him like he was trying to decide if that was supposed to be insulting or a compliment. Knowing James, a combination of both. "So we know a bit more about it than the typical person."

"I didn't get it until he said it," Lily shrugged as she jabbed her thumb at Remus as well, "I was just surprised you could suddenly hear it underwater."

Harry did at least feel marginally better his mother had at least been on the same page as him for most of it.

Harry hadn't seen Myrtle this cheerful since Hermione had a tail.

"There's a fond memory," Sirius couldn't help but laugh, the magical mistakes people could do to themselves had always endeared him.

Harry ignored her as he kept up his swim, puzzling together that whatever this was must have something to do with a creature underwater if that's where you could hear the voice. He realized he was speaking aloud when Myrtle agreed that had been Diggory's conclusion, it had taken him ages to put this together.

Harry mostly ignored her, his eyes still on the water as he asked what else was in the lake besides the giant squid? Myrtle was not happy with the answer that there were all sorts, she'd been flushed down there from time to time.

All five of them made spluttering noises of disgust at that!

"Are you telling me the plumbing empties into the lake!" Sirius demanded, going a little green at the thought. "I thought it was just banished once it left the pipes. We never found where they exited off, so-" he cut himself with a retch.

"Great, and I used to go swimming in that," James groaned, his skin starting to crawl.

"I like to think Sirius was half right," Lily had her nose crinkled so much she looked like she was imitating a pug. "Surely it goes through some sort of magical cleaning system. There are creatures like the giant squid living in there who would get sick from that."

"Let's just move on," Remus grumbled, not really wanting to sit around thinking about it.

Trying not to think about Moaning Myrtle zooming down a pipe to the lake with the contents of a toilet.

"Can't imagine why you wouldn't want to paint that picture," Sirius muttered to find some amusement again.

Harry instead looked around himself again, his eyes landing on the painting of a human voice coming out of the water, like the mermaid.

"You see, that's a brilliant deduction," Lily smiled.

"I probably never would have got there without that painting," Harry tried to brush off.

"But you did," James rolled his eyes, "so take the compliment."

Harry muttered something that didn't quite mask the pleased look on his face at his parents complimenting him.

Harry asked if she'd seen any of those down there, and Myrtle praised that had been what Diggory got to in the end, but he'd taken hours and that was with her awake.

Harry's pleased feelings increased into a full blown smirk, unable to really beat away that pride that he'd done something faster than Diggory. Then he got an intense curling feeling in his gut, and Harry was once again wondering why his own jealous feelings at Cedric really hurt like that.

Harry was suddenly bubbling with his own excitement as he was sure he'd got it, the second task was to go into the lake and find merpeople!

His happiness drained as suddenly as if someone had pulled the plug in this tub. Harry could hardly swim.

Sure a bit of floundering in his water was easy, but while Dudley had taken lessons in his youth, his aunt and uncle had never ponied up the money for him, most likely hoping he'd one day drown.

"Oh thank you for that lovely bleeding reminder," Lily narrowed her eyes nastily, all of them having to fight down the urge to go drown those people in a bathtub.

Harry spoke his problem aloud to Myrtle, asking how he was supposed to breathe?

Harry looked around expectantly, to find they looked rather stumped at the thought.

"That, is a remarkably good question," Lily frowned, fidgeting with a lock of her hair as she cast her mind around for a spell or potion she could lock on. There was a potion that would temporarily give him gills, as well as some transfiguration, but those were advanced, and she'd be surprised if an older student could pull it off in time, let alone a fourteen year old.

"Well, it's not exactly common for people to do so," James explained as his mind offered up a few suggestions he quickly dispelled as they wouldn't be any use to Harry's age. "I'm not really sure how Hogwarts expects you to pull it off without adult help honestly."

"Um," Sirius cocked his head to the side in thought, "ah, let me get back to you on that one."

At this, Myrtle's eyes filled with sudden tears again.

"Uh oh," Remus groaned.

"Now you've done it," Sirius sighed, resisting the temptation to plug up his ears at the thought of this.

"What'd I do?" Harry yelped in surprise, they'd gone from speculating his problem to all looking annoyed in an instant.

"Not sure," James rolled his eyes, "but you said something to set off Myrtle, so here we go."

Wailing at how tactless he was, talking about breathing in front of her!

"Oh," Lily nodded, "well I've seen her be set off by less."

Harry was starting to regret that he hadn't put his trousers on the last time he'd gotten out, so maybe he could have snuck away by now.

She buried her face in her sleeves, and Harry only now remembered how touchy she could be, when other ghosts didn't react to that kind of stuff.

"Well you said it," Sirius sniffed, "Myrtle's one of a kind."

He impatiently apologized,

"I wasn't aware you could be impatiently sorry," Remus chuckled.

"But I'm glad you can pull it off," James grinned.

while Myrtle brokenly stated he wasn't the first, nobody had cared when she was alive. It had taken the school ages to find her body.

"Here we go again," Sirius threw his hands up in exasperation. "This is the story we mentioned before, if ever you asked how she died she'd just go on about this bit."

"Not even a very thrilling tale," James agreed with a sigh.

Olive Hornby had been the first to do so, laughing about how she'd probably been in there crying again, and Myrtle had made her pay for that. Myrtle haunted her for years, even going to a wedding to follow her around.

Lily still felt kind of bad for Myrtle, but it didn't stop her snapping, "what's she blaming her for? It wasn't that girl who got her killed. Why's she even allowed to do that?"

"Well you know Myrtle doesn't even know who did it," Remus reminded, "so she's just haunting the first person who came into contact with her after the fact."

"I think at some point she got a restraining order from the Ministry banishing her back to Hogwarts," James shrugged. "At least, I hope Olive did, I know I wouldn't want to put up with that."

Harry had stopped listening, still playing the song in his head about how something he'd miss would be taken. What were they going to take?

Myrtle was still chatting about how the Ministry of Magic had eventually got her to stop stalking and forced her back to her toilet.

"Fair compensation for stalking," Sirius snorted.

Harry vaguely agreed that was a good idea,

"I can see you were just riveted by that," Lily giggled.

while deciding it was time for him to go. He demanded she keep her eyes shut while he got dressed again, and once he was done and picking up all three of his things Myrtle asked if he'd come visit her again?

"I'm sure that's top of your to do list," James rolled his eyes.

"Could always find some more illegal potions to brew in there," Sirius offered, "I'm sure you'll come up with a reason to eventually."

"You're not encouraging," Lily grumbled at him.

Harry lied that he'd try, while privately thinking he wouldn't unless her's was the last bathroom available.

"And even then I'd rather use the lake," Remus finished as if reading, "because apparently it goes there anyways."

The others got a fascinating combination of laughter and disgust on their faces, so Remus admitted he'd been joking but still kept going with a wicked smirk in place.

Harry said his goodbye as he slipped his cloak on and activated his map to track the school again, the egg under his other arm. Filch and Mrs. Norris were down in their office, Peeves was bouncing around the trophy room, all seemed calm and a peaceful walk back to his tower, until he spotted something odd.

"Was it Sinestra sneaking into Vectors office?" Sirius asked innocently. "I caught that a fair few times."

"And I begged you every time not to tell me," Remus grumbled without looking up.

Peeves was not the only thing that was moving. A single dot was flitting around a room in the bottom left-hand corner - Snape's office.

"I can understand why you'd be keeping an eye on him," James muttered in disgust, he was always top of his list to keep tabs on.

But the dot wasn't labeled 'Severus Snape,' it was Bartemius Crouch.

Remus had to blink down at the pages several times to convince his brain he'd read that, and by the time he was convinced that name wasn't vanishing Lily had come over her shock and snatched the book away to see for herself, now juggling the thick spine and baby all at once and still managing to hold a look of disbelief in place.

"What on earth is he doing?" Sirius tried to demand, but his voice failed him in shock so it came out more of a whisper.

"How can he even be," James waved his hand around for emphasis of not even being aware what this was. "I thought he was so sick Percy was doing his job, now he's crawling around the castle."

"In Snape's private office," Remus agreed as he gently took the book back.

"I really want to know what's changed this guy," Lily demanded as she kept glaring at the book. "The only time he's acted the way I know him now was at the World Cup. Ever since then he's been acting like, well I don't even know."

"I have a bad feeling about me finding out," Harry grumbled as he kneaded his temple with his knuckles, something was pounding away in there insisting what he'd said was true enough.

"Well, best get it over with then," Remus tried to shrug this off for Harry's sake, his own mind wondering how much Dumbledore knew about this. Surely Crouch wasn't on the property without the headmaster knowing, which surely meant Snape had knowledge of what was going on and maybe invisible Harry would find something out. There was no doubt in anyone's mind Harry would go investigating this.

Harry watched the dot uncertainly, trying to understand how Crouch could be so sick he'd miss the Yule Ball, but was now sneaking around his school after midnight. The little label was moving around and occasionally pausing.

"Bit of an odd time for an inventory check," Sirius muttered.

Curiosity getting the better of him,

"No surprise there," James agreed.

Harry changed course and headed that way, his nose still pressed to the map as he moved along, passing into a shortcut. This seemed very out of character for Crouch sneaking around someone else's office.

They all agreed, none of them could come up with a feasible explanation for this. Even Remus' idea about the teachers having foreknowledge was lacking when he was reminded of the time, surely nothing so pressing was happening that Snape's cupboard had to be raided at this time.

Halfway down, Harry's leg suddenly wasn't level, and in fact had sunk into a trick step.

"Oh bugger," James groaned, already his fingers sliding past his glasses to hide his eyes from what this could mean.

He wobbled, and the still damp egg came free of his grasp, clanging on every step on the way down,

Sirius was counting all the ways in his head how bad this was, and already reaching double digits for his poor pup.

while the Invisibility Cloak tried to slide down with it, and in Harry's wild grasp to catch that the Map slipped free floating halfway down the stairs as well from where Harry was jammed.

Lily was biting her tongue to stop herself bemoaning that this really couldn't get any worse, then she realized next thing his wand was probably going to go sailing away as well!

The golden egg fell through the tapestry at the bottom of the staircase, burst open, and began wailing loudly in the corridor below.

"And that's my limit," Remus groaned, letting his head hang for a moment before looking pleadingly at his friends, "anyone else want to read about the travesty to come?"

"Nope," Sirius shook his head quickly, "that's all yours."

James removed his fingers so that he could glare at the book doing this to his son as he stated, "sorry Moony, you have fun with that."

"He's just going to get caught out of bed," Lily tried for some optimism. "Worst that can happen is he might get a detention."

"With the cloak and map on him," Sirius tallied up for her. "Try week's worth of detentions."

"Maybe being a champion they'll cut him some slack," James offered weakly.

"Good luck with that," Remus snorted.

Harry tried to reach with his wand to wipe the Map blank, but it was too far.

"And why did that stop you?" Sirius asked, rolling his eyes, "just say the spell and it'll still be done." Then he suddenly brightened all the more and said, "you've still got your wand on you, least that didn't come loose. Just summon everything back to you and hide under the cloak."

"You'll still be stuck in there until someone pulls you free," James winced, "so it's a question of being caught or let your leg go numb for how many hours."

Harry had gone from looking flabbergasted at Sirius, the thought hadn't even crossed his panicky mind, to thinking that his dad's options were more likely.

Making sure the cloak was still covering him, all Harry could do was tense in fear as the roar reached his ear, Peeves!

"There's a momentary relief," Remus couldn't help a small smile, "least he's not approaching you at defcon five."

"Filch always blames Peeves first," Sirius agreed.

Filch had arrived almost instantly upon the racket the egg was making, shouting about the poltergeist, but quickly catching sight of the real noise.

They all tensed in preparation for Filch making the connection...but then James suddenly brightened with the widest smirk in place. "Actually, this could still work out. Harry's hiding under the cloak, Filch shouldn't be able to find him. That could belong to any champion, so Harry could just steal it back before anyone's the wiser when Filch takes it back to his office."

"Could work," Sirius agreed eagerly, "so long as Harry keeps his head."

Harry could hear him stoop to pick up the egg, the wailing was cut off, and Harry stayed very still

"Not like you had a choice," Remus muttered.

as he waited for Filch to pull back the tapestry to his hidden corridor, expecting to see Peeves, but instead his eyes would surely land on the Map.

"No, really," Sirius insisted, watching Harry with the most disappointed eyes he could muster. "Summon it back to you already. You are losing some very important scheming points for not reacting already."

"I panicked," Harry defended, "went on lockdown, I think I stopped breathing for a few moments, let alone think."

Filch began whispering to Mrs. Norris about how this was a Triwizard clue, Peeves had been stealing from a champion.

"Actually no," Lily shook her head, "I've never known Peeves to actively steal personal belongings, or at least hang onto them. He might chuck it across the room."

"I can still see him trying this though," Remus disagreed. "If one of the champions had left it out, Peeves would think this was a great idea."

He ripped back the tapestry,

"Like Peeves would still be hiding there though," James scoffed.

"He'd either be floating above laughing, or at the other end of the school by now," Sirius agreed.

and Harry got a proper look at Filch's strained face and popping eyes landing on an apparently deserted corridor.

Filch began whispering to himself about how Peeves could hide all he'd like but surely Dumbledore would have him kicked out for this.

"I am as positive as can be Dumbledore has no control of Peeves being in that school," Remus snickered.

"I've never known magic that could get rid of one," Lily agreed, "and even if by some miracle you did, another would just appear. They're spirits of chaos after all-"

"And who harbors more chaos than a school," James finished for her.

"Really makes you wonder if Fleur was lying," Sirius cocked his head to the side, "I wouldn't honestly be surprised if all schools housed one of some kind."

"I wouldn't put it past her," Lily tisked, thinking she'd probably exaggerated every bit of her perfect precious school.

Filch began climbing the stairs, still muttering to himself, his cat at his heels now watching Harry with her eerie eyes through the Cloak. This wasn't the first time Harry had to wonder if this worked on cats.

"And the answer is still yes, physically she can't see you," Remus sighed.

"But she can use her other sharper senses, like smell," Sirius grumbled. "It just depends on how intelligent she is to work out if the scent is old, or fresh and she should get Filch, or what."

James was muttering under his breath about how bad this could get and didn't add in.

Harry tried desperately to wrench his leg free as Filch kept climbing closer, he'd reach the map first or walk right into Harry-

then someone called for what Filch was up to?

Lily scowled and said a few choice words even as relief flooded her, Harry's life really knew how to set the tension.

Filch stopped where he was and looked back down to see Snape.

Remus couldn't help face planting the pages for a moment, counting up all the number of times this guy kept showing up to ruin their lives and not happy at all with the number.

"Of bleeding course!" Sirius snarled in outrage. "Because if there's one person to make a situation worse, it'll always be him to show up!"

"I swear he has a radar on my last name," James moaned, "there is no other explanation how he keeps doing this."

He was wearing a long gray nightshirt and he looked livid.

"Because I always wanted to know what he slept in," Sirius crinkled up his nose.

Filch explained himself, showing the egg still in his grasp and what he knew Peeves had been up to.

Snape quickly reached his side, his eyes taking in the scene while Harry watched with a pounding heart he was sure would give him away.

"You're not helping by exaggerating," Lily sighed, though honestly she couldn't help a small smile at the same time. After all the heart pounding, fear inducing moments this tournament had already done to her, a thing like dealing with Filch and detention felt like a cake walk.

Snape's first comment was to say Peeves couldn't get into his office.

"Oh?" James drew the vowel too far out in surprise. "Well maybe we were slightly wrong, and it was a surprise visit being conducted."

"Hope he gets fired for something," Sirius grumbled, knowing it wasn't exactly Crouch's job to do...well whatever on earth could even be going on, but if it was putting Snape in a bad mood he was all for it.

The two began talking over each other, Filch still trying to go on about what Peeves had done, Snape saying how someone had broken into his office and only a wizard could have done so. Snape won by snapping out that he didn't give a damn about that Poltergeist, he wanted Filch's help to search the castle for whoever had been in his office.

Remus couldn't help a petty little smile that Snape was running to anyone for help, thinking the last time Snape had needed something he'd turned to Filch then to. Seemed the caretaker even he'd hated in his youth was the only friend he seemed to want help from now, not that he had any others.

Filch tried to argue, looking longingly towards the way he was sure Peeves had gone.

"He's kidding himself," Lily rolled his eyes, "he must know better than anyone Peeves wouldn't still be hanging around. He's got his evidence, he can come back later."

"You be sure to tell him that dear," James smiled at her.

Harry was pleading with the universe they'd just go, while Mrs. Norris was still keeping eyes on him. Harry knew if anything she could smell him, why had he used all that scented soap!

"Yes, why indeed did you not have the foresight not to play with that new toy," Sirius scolded, wagging his finger in Harry's face for emphasis.

Harry momentarily considered trying to catch that finger and hold it hostage until his godfather reconsidered doing it again, he was wound tight as could go at the remembered stress of this, but then Sirius turned eagerly back to listen to Remus and Harry lost his moment.

Filch told Snape he'd help, but first he had to see the headmaster, there was no way he'd condone letting Peeves get away with this.

Snape replied his office was more important than that- but was cut off by a distinctive and repetitive clunk.

"And the party continues?" Remus raised a sharp brow.

"Just how many teachers wander around this castle at night," Harry threw up his hands in exasperation.

"More than you'd think, but few enough this usually isn't such a problem," James said in what he was sure was a wise old voice.

Both stopped speaking at once as Mad-Eye appeared.

"While the footsteps were distinctive enough I guessed as much," Lily rolled her eyes, "could it not have been anyone else besides him. Harry actually had a chance to get out of this mess, but the one person in that castle who can see past that cloak shows up!"

"So glad we're on the same page love," James huffed as he slumped back into his seat, the game was definitely up now.

Moody took in the full scene, his first response to ask the two if they were having a pajama party?

"Well I should hope not," Remus tried for a laugh, "McGonagall wasn't invited, and you know how upset she'd be about that."

"See, this is why you should have stuck around," Sirius grinned at him.

Filch began explaining everything, but when he got to Snape's office Snape snapped at him to shut it.

Lily raised a sharp brow like she wanted to give Snape a suspicious look for doing that. What was he trying to hide from Moody?

Moody took a few steps up so he could be more on level with them, his blue eye alone being able to take in the full scene.

"Someone should make that the next painting hung up in school," James couldn't help a small smile, "it feels like the perfect metaphor for how Harry's life goes. Mostly observing and just waiting to get caught."

"I'm sure Snape would love one hung in his office," Sirius agreed.

Moody's lopsided gash of a mouth opened in surprise.

"What master Auror skills he has," Lily grimaced. "He practically gave away Harry's position before he said a word."

For a moment he seemed to be deciding what to do, then he closed his mouth and turned to Snape.

They all braced themselves for this boot to drop.

Asking about this person who broke in?

"Again," James couldn't help but point out with a smirk, though it faded right back off as he couldn't help but question, "though even knowing who did it doesn't help any of my questions."

"He's not going to tell," Lily yelped in surprise.

"I guess not," Remus agreed slowly, "if he didn't say it right off the bat, I can't imagine he would...but why not?"

"Who cares," Sirius grinned, "Harry's going to get away with it for sure now."

Snape replied it was of no importance to him.

"You weren't saying so a second ago," Sirius sneered, knowing Snape thought anything concerning him was the most important thing in the world.

Moody disagreed, asking if Snape had any suspects?

Snape grudgingly admitted it was most likely a student, this had happened before so students could steal and make their own potions.

Remus enunciated each syllable carefully, "hypocrite." Before continuing on more casually, "I know for a fact he used to filch from Slughorn all the time to brew his own vats for whatever he wanted."

Lily didn't bother to deny it, she'd just never wanted to ask where he got them.

Moody asked if he was sure he didn't have anything else hidden in there?

"Oh please have Moody go check next," Sirius sneered. "Would make my day for him to get fired for something illegal I know he has in there."

"I wouldn't hold your breath," Lily couldn't help but mutter a tad bitterly.

Snape narrowed his eyes at Moody as he said dangerously Moody knew full well he had nothing else, he'd searched his office already.

"Well lookie there," James' grin managed to spring back to life instantly. "As if Moody hadn't already proved himself useful to this school, now he's actually listening to us."

"Pity he didn't find anything," Remus sighed.

"Probably keeps a secret stash hidden in the dungeons somewhere, so he can torture students at his own disposal," Sirius said, only half kidding.

Moody agreed that was a privilege Dumbledore had allowed-

Snape cut him off with a temper, saying Dumbledore trusted him and he still didn't believe the headmaster had granted this!

"And yet he did it anyways," Lily snapped back, "which finally shows there is still a brain in his head."

While honestly pleased his wife still hadn't switched back to even remotely defending Snape again, he still couldn't help but expect a relapse, this new version was honestly scaring him as he recoiled slightly. Lily was speaking of him with as much hatred as she'd once shown James, so it wasn't exactly as pleasant a new sensation as he would have once thought.

Moody agreed Dumbledore did trust Snape, the man believed in second chances.

"What did he do with his first chance?" Harry asked in surprise.

"Most likely, got caught as a Death Eater," Sirius growled. "We've only heard rumours before now he was one, but that seems the most likely. I'm just wondering how in Merlin's beard Dumbledore let that slide enough to give him a job."

"I'm sad to say we probably won't find out," Remus huffed.

Moody disagreed, saying there were some spots that didn't come off, finishing with an obvious look at Snape.

His eyes narrowed, and he did something very strange, his right arm flinched like he meant to grasp hold of his left forearm like he'd been stung.

Harry felt a buzzing go off in the base of his skull, glancing down at that forearm as well and so very sure he should remember something being there on Snape's... but then he looked around and saw no one else had a clue what this could mean so he didn't press it.

Moody laughed at the reaction, telling Snape to run along to bed.

"Be a good little bat and I'll throw you some fruit later," James happily agreed.

"Don't be ridiculous Prongs," Remus said back without looking up, "he's obviously more of an O- type."

"Why should that stop me?" James demanded over the other three's giggling, "as if I'd ever give him what he actually wanted."

Remus could have kept the banter going, but he was far too curious for this night to be over and Harry to get away from Snape in general to keep on.

Snape was outraged, exclaiming he had just as much a right to walk this castle as anyone.

Moody agreed he could prowl away, but he was now looking forward all the more to meeting him in a lonely corridor.

"I am begging you to sit in on that one pup," Sirius turned pleading eyes on Harry. "Foot trapped or not."

"I'll get right on that," Harry shot back, not at all denying he'd pay good money to see that fight.

Then Moody added as an afterthought that that he'd spotted the map and Snape must have dropped it.

"Oh bloody hell," Sirius yelped, his heart starting to beat too hard at where this could lead.

"Remus isn't around to keep him away this time," James groaned.

Harry couldn't deny any such things of happening, because he was quite sure he wouldn't have his map for some time after this night, and it was not an encouraging thought at all.

Harry realized what was happening as both Filch and Snape spotted it for the first time, and Harry threw caution to the wind and waved to get Moody's attention under the cloak, mouthing at the DADA teacher that was his!

"Not sure how that makes it better," Lily got out around gnawing on her lip. "He's doing you a favor by not telling your there, not sure if that'll extend to your stuff."

Snape was reaching for it, an expression of dawning comprehension on his face -

Remus was resisting the urge to chuck the book across the room, he didn't want to read out this next part.

but Moody reacted fasted by summoning it to him, the parchment zooming right out from Snape's fingers.

"Moody is officially my favorite person ever," James sagged in relief.

"We owe him big for doing all this," Sirius agreed fervently.

While as happy as the boys, Lily was still more than curious as to why Moody was. Even having helped out Harry before with the first task, that should have been out of pity or even a reward for Harry doing the right thing. Helping to keep Harry out of trouble like this though was just odd, what was the reason? Surely even Dumbledore wouldn't have gone this far.

Quickly stuffing it out of sight and correcting himself that was his, he must have dropped it earlier.

Snape wasn't paying this any attention, his mind clearly putting together what only Snape could,

"Well yes, he does have the extenuating circumstances of knowing all of that is yours," Remus rolled his eyes.

"But even he can't think you're stupid enough to have just thrown those around willy nilly," Sirius scowled, "so you've got to wonder what he really thinks Harry's up to."

"Here's hoping I don't have to find out," James huffed, wanting Snape to be gone already.

Whispering the name Potter.

Moody asked what he meant, and Snape turned back in Harry's direction now, his eyes landing unerringly right on him as if he could suddenly see him there now that he knew.

All five of them gave a nasty shudder at that, more than thankful whatever magic possessed that cloak didn't work like that.

Putting together that everything that was here belonged to Potter, he was here underneath his Invisibility Cloak.

"I forgot he even knew about the cloak too," James groaned in disgust. "Merlin that man has successfully wrecked my school life by knowing about both of those now."

"It does indeed put a damper that he figured out that was Harry's that night," Sirius agreed, this not even having occurred to him at the time as he'd been more focused on other things, but it was true, Snape had found it and at once linked it to being Harry's. The man must have put it together as well as the Map that he'd seen it in Marauder hands often enough he'd pieced it all together.

Snape suddenly put his arm out and began climbing the stairs, clearly thinking he was going to find Harry like a blind man, Harry swore he saw his nose dilating like he could sniff Harry out.

"I always said that over large nose had to come in handy for something," Sirius rolled his eyes at the idea.

Harry was forced to lean as far back as he could while still being stuck in place to avoid the fingers, just as Moody barked Snape was being ridiculous, there was no one else around. He'd be happy to pass along the message to Dumbledore though that Snape's first thought was Potter.

"I should be flattered," Harry grumbled.

Snape stopped his approach, turning back to glare at Moody what he meant by that?

Moody stated that Dumbledore wanted to know everyone who had it out for the boy. In the torchlight illuminating his face, every scar and misshapen feature seemed to hold a whole new ghastly shadow.

James' face gave a nasty twitch at the reminder he hadn't forgotten, it was still very unsettling to picture Moody like that.

Snape did not reply to that, instead his arm dropped back down to his side and he stated he knew Potter had a habit of wandering after hours, he'd only been looking out for Potter's best interest.

"A top priority of yours, as you've always made clear," Sirius said, his voice laced with sarcasm.

"Habit?" Lily repeated in disgust. "Harry really doesn't do it that often, not even as often as I did. Two or three times a year at best."

Harry did a double take at his mum saying that, she'd never mentioned any explicit school breaking like that to him, but Remus was still eagerly reading and now clearly enjoying Snape's predicament against Moody to notice.

Moody didn't seem to believe him as he repeated that back at Snape.

There was silence all around until Snape spoke up again that he was going to bed.

"Scamper off with your tail between your legs," Sirius chirped, still wishing more than anything Moody had been around in their day, he clearly came in handy.

Moody agreed that was the best idea he'd had this night. Then he turned dismissively away from him towards Filch, telling him to hand over the egg.

Filch refused, clutching the egg as though it were his firstborn son.

James scowled lightly as his mind flickered to that feeling, not ever having believed he'd mock anyone for that description, but it reminded him too much of his numbered days being able to do that for his own infant and any mockery of it didn't sit right.

Protesting this was evidence of Peeves' doing!

"Bloody hell man, you're never getting rid of that poltergeist, move on," Remus sighed.

Moody shot back it was the property of a school champion and it was to be handed over. Snape walked past the squabbling duo without any acknowledgement, and clearly outed here, Filch unhappily passed the egg along and turned to leave as well, muttering to his cat to come along, they could still go to Dumbledore and report this.

"There's Moody's point," Lily rolled her eyes, "Filch can still tell for all the good it'll do without the egg in his possession."

When both were far out of sight, Moody heaved himself up the stairs to Harry's position, mentioning how close that had been.

Harry thanked him for not mentioning he'd been present.

Moody asked what the Marauder's Map was, pulling it back out of his pocket and investigating it.

"Something of the utmost genius," Sirius stated at once.

"Crafted by only the keenest of artists," James quickly tacked on pompously.

Remus pretended he wasn't going to add on by reading, but no one could deny the faint tones of pride lacing his own voice while reading about their map.

Harry tried to explain what it was while wincing around some pain, his leg was beginning to hurt in its trapped position.

Moody's magical eye was going haywire as it studied every inch of the paper,

Harry couldn't help but to start twitching in unease, some feeling trying to rear up in him warning he didn't like Moody having hold of his map...

telling him this was some object to be had.

"Yes!" James crowed as if he'd received the end of all compliments. "Can you believe the Alastor Moody just complimented us!"

"I'm at a loss for words," Sirius agreed, his eager smile not being dampened one bit.

"Can you imagine when you do become an Auror and mention this to him before he even finds it," Remus added for his friends benefit. "Moody'll be so impressed, he'll probably try having you make some for even more buildings and places."

James's chest swelled with pride at the very idea of receiving this praise in person, but would never dream of denying, "well of course I just drew it, if he wants full replications he'll owe you two some compensation as well."

"This could be fun," Sirius' smirk widened at once. "Can you imagine us actually making a business of plotting out and recreating our map for other buildings."

"Places like the Ministry for example would go haywire for dozens of copies," Lily couldn't stop herself adding in.

They all looked floored at the idea, nothing like this had even crossed their minds before as anything more than a childhood pet project for their own security, and partial vanity, but this really was the first time they realized what they really could have on their hands.

Harry agreed it came in handy, trying to ignore his eyes starting to water from the pain as he asked his Professor to give him a hand.

Sirius was suddenly accosted back to this reality, and remembered back to a time he'd found P-, that rat, stuck in there. He'd fallen in hours ago apparently and was limping for ages afterwards, it really could leave a bruise if someone was left in there long enough not being able to pull themselves out. He didn't say this aloud, what had once been almost a funny memory suddenly made him realize who his brain had been intentionally leaving out this whole discussion of their map and he was not happy at the reminder.

Moody was momentarily surprised at the interruption before looking up and realizing where Harry still was, quickly grabbing hold of him and pulling him back out. Then he asked Harry if he'd seen who was in Snape's office?

Harry agreed it had been Mr. Crouch.

Harry felt his jaw do an odd number, something in him kicking and screaming to say that wasn't quite right, but Harry had more than enough practice to hastily brush that aside and ignore it best he could.

Moody's magical eye whizzed over the entire surface of the map. He looked suddenly alarmed.

"Well that can't be right," Lily cocked her head to the side. "He's supposed to be heading security or something, there's no way Crouch got onto the property without Dumbledore knowing, and why wouldn't he tell Moody as well."

"Something about this really isn't adding up," James agreed.

Harry gave a nasty twitch but still declined his answer which he knew he'd be grateful for in the long run.

Moody found this very interesting, still taking this map in.

Harry couldn't think of any way to reply. He was grateful Moody had gotten him out of trouble, and wanted to ask about all this, so threw caution to the wind and asked what Crouch would be doing here?

Moody's magical eye went and landed on Harry now, clearly sizing him up on how much to tell him, before answering that while Moody may be obsessed with catching Dark wizards, it was nothing compared to Crouch.

"Interesting way of putting it," Lily sniffed.

"Moody caught them," Sirius explained for Harry.

"While Crouch threw the book at them, the heaviest and hardest ones he could find, on even the smallest of charges," James finished with the smallest of frowns showing his displeasure.

"It's supposedly to show he's not taking any Death Eater's lightly," Remus sighed, "but really, from what I've heard, he gets bleeding cruel sometimes."

"It seems to be working though," Lily sighed, "as no one's trying to stop him."

Harry was getting a terrible feeling as this continued, he was very sure he had strong feelings about this topic that just weren't coming to the surface quite yet, but thanked them all the same as clearly they didn't like talking about it. Even as anti- Voldemort as they all were, obviously something of what Crouch was doing didn't feel much better.

Harry then asked if perhaps Crouch knew something more was going on?

Moody looked at Harry suspiciously, asking what that could be?

Harry didn't want to admit he'd been hearing things from the outside, fearing it could lead to some inquiries about Sirius.

"I can't really see me being his first train of thought," Sirius gave an uneasy smile, "he and the likes would still think I'm after you after all."

"Better safe than sorry," James muttered, hoping Harry did keep his mouth shut.

Still, Harry tried to play it off he'd just heard some things, like the Dark Mark at the World Cup and things from the prophet, it was all odd.

Moody watched Harry with something like mild respect before telling Harry what a sharp lad he was.

"Is that really so hard to work out?" Lily rolled her eyes. "No one would think to put those two together?" She wasn't trying to underplay Harry for knowing this, but it wouldn't take a genius either.

"Well most his age are only concerned with Quidditch stats," Remus shrugged, "so I guess it's more of a compliment for paying attention like that."

Moody's eyes were back on the Marauder's Map as he said Crouch was most likely thinking along the same lines as Harry, all this talk going around was making people nervous. Then his lopsided mouth did something resembling a smile as he finished if there was one thing he hated, his eyes now on the left-hand corner of the map,

The Marauders knew that map like that back of their own wand of course, so they realized he was in fact looking at the dungeons, back in Snape's direction.

it was a free Death Eater.

Harry just stared, sure Moody couldn't mean what he thought he did.

Lily didn't even need to see the map to put together what that meant, restraining herself for saying just a few more foul things at yet more proof of what Severus had turned into.

Then Moody turned and said now he had a question for him.

Harry's heart sank as he guessed what was coming, he was going to be asked where this map had come from, which could lead to some awkward answers involving his old teacher Professor Lupin and even his dad, plus the Weasley twins.

"Two of which aren't exactly Moody's concern," James muttered with just a tad more sulleness in his voice as he realized he was technically speaking of himself in past tense.

"Is this thing even technically legal?" Lily suddenly asked as she did worry about Remus, and the twins for that matter. "Wouldn't you need permission from the Headmaster to have such a thing?"

"Don't know, not like we asked," Sirius rolled his eyes at the thought.

"There's not technically a rule against it," Remus put just a touch more emphasis than was called for into that.

"Of course that makes it all better," Lily snorted.

"This is all pointless anyways," James tried to wave back attention to the important matter, "it's not like Harry's going to spill."

Instead, Moody asked if he could borrow it?

"Err," James stuttered, sure he'd heard wrong.

"Great, if it's not one teacher confiscating it, it's another," Sirius scowled as he realized what that really meant, like Harry had a choice.

Remus flushed in remembrance of that action, Sirius had made it clear he wasn't holding a grudge about that but it still wasn't a pleasant reminder as he quickly read in hopes Harry would somehow get past this, or at least have the intentions of stealing it back.

Harry was so surprised, and grateful Moody had done him a favor this night, he supposed he should return it no matter how fond he was of his map.

"Well I guess," James blustered, "when you put it like that."

"So long as it's a temporary loan," Sirius stated in no uncertain terms. "If Remus couldn't break the curse no one can, and Moody doesn't need to be leaving with that at the end of the year."

"I'll make sure of it," Harry swore, that uneasy feeling in him still not settling even if he did now understand why he wouldn't get his map back tonight. Something in him was kicking his insides telling him he should have taken another long look at that map before he handed it over...

He agreed, and Moody thanked him while telling him to get back off to bed. The two climbed the stairs and at first headed in the same direction, Moody still holding the map like a treasure.

James still couldn't stop a genuine smile creeping across his face. He hadn't been able to help it last night, in between his tossing and turning and thinking over all the events to come, his realization of what had happened to Moody had lingered in there as well. Fear for his life, less accurately his face but still, really had been leaving him slightly dubious of his job of choice he'd been set on...but now he really was considering something else. He always had been a good artist, he'd been the one to hand draw out that map that even impressed Moody in this way, so if he could be of help to this department some other way...

They meant to split off when they reached Moody's office, but the teacher called Harry back and asked if he'd ever considered a job as an Auror?

Lily and James couldn't help but startle, the idea hadn't even yet occurred to them that though Harry was the age, he'd have some job in his life. It was really saying something if it was in fact the very one his father was looking for.

Harry said no in surprise, and Moody told him he should be considering it, while also glancing at the egg back in Harry's arms and also pointing out Harry hadn't been taking that on a walk.

"Without a leash? He wouldn't dream of it," Sirius smirked.

Harry agreed he'd been working on the clue, and Moody told him he had no doubts Harry would work it out. Then he did leave.

Harry made his way back to Gryffindor Tower, his mind still churning over Snape and Crouch, Crouch being dominant with all the questions about him. Why was he pretending to be ill but coming up here? What had he been doing in Snape's office?

"Both excellent questions," Lily wrinkled up her forehead, not coming up with an answer she did like, either in explanation or just plain chasing away her chills.

There was also that small other thing, that Moody actually thought Harry could be an auror. The idea seemed intriguing, but Harry decided as he climbed into bed, he'd like to see a few more noses on the other Aurors before he considered it.

Causing some smattering of laughter in the end as Remus handed the book a little guiltily to Lily, not wanting to admit that he was rather relieved he wasn't going to be the one to read that next task as well, and masking that by telling Harry, "I do believe the majority of them at least have the full percentage of their noses."

"That's right comforting," Harry smiled back, but something in him was lingering on the idea.

#Harry Potter #GoF #Fanfiction #reading the books #Marauders #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black #James Potter #Lily Potter #jilly

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aesthbaby · 4 years

Text

You’re going to be okay pt. 2

Summary: Reader and Emily meet as ghosts in a hospital after a case

Pairings: Reader x Emily Prentiss (not pronoun specific)

Prompt: Reader and Emily as ghosts haunting the same place (School, hospital, house, whatever). Reader has been dead for a few years and helps Emily deal. They end up liking each other and maybe have ghost fun all over the place. ;)

Warnings: Cursing | sexual references | death

Word Count: 3k

Masterlist

Part One

"Mmm, I don't think this is the best idea Em." You hum while chewing on your thumb, a nasty habit you picked up in Elementary school.

"Come on it'll be fun. Let loose a bit Angel." A nickname Emily gave you, it started as more of a joke but over time it stuck. She hardly ever calls you by your actual name. In reality, you're actually okay with the name, it shows that she feels comfortable around you and you think it's flattering. Its as if your her savior or something, but not in a cult leader-god complex fashion. You took care of her for months while also teaching her everything and anything you can about the spirit world. Emily is suspiciously good at her job, she takes the kids and elderly, you take everything in between. There's something poetic about being good with both elders and babies, the beginning of life, and the end. You're better with teens because you died younger than Emily did and can relate to the trauma of an early, unfinished death. Adults can usually figure it out on their own but it's nice to have a hand to hold as someone to fill in the blanks.

Emily had never seen someone go into the darkness until a few weeks ago; you always managed to keep her away from it. You were making sure a man who sold laced drugs to teens got to the place he was meant to be. At first, he seemed to have a kind heart so when he confessed his crimes you were shocked, to say the least. He'd mix different over the counters and cheap street knockoffs in order to make more for less. Then he would sell them to the local high school kids but use the money to take care of his mom, grandma, and the local community center. Its an ethical gray area, that's for sure, but I guess you could say he meant well. Luckily none of the teens who bought drugs from him died, but that doesn't excuse what he did. During this whole fiasco, Emily was supposed to be taking an older woman to the garden before her transitioning; unknowingly to you she was around the corner listening in. When you were taking him you didn't notice her until he was gone. There was more curiosity on her face than fear so you tried to give her the bare minimum amount of information. The Agent was damn stubborn, she'd never let you off the hook with something unless you gave her information in exchange. Your arrangement was beneficial to both of you, in a way you liked teasing Emily and she liked pulling the information out of you. It reminded her of her work in the FBI. It also kept you from having to tell her everything you knew and kept things interesting between you two.

"No Emily." You tell her, you hate saying 'no' to her because she looks absolutely adorable when she fakes a pout.

"Emily Prentiss does not pout." Even while saying that she looks like she's pouting. She defends herself after being told 'no' when she asked you to teach her Thermokinesis. (To control the temperature of the physical world.) Gotta love her.

Though eventually, you did teach her, that is beside the point. Wait no let's go back to that, why didn't anyone warn me about how convincing this woman can be? She can talk me into almost anything and I'd comply happily. If she wasn't so drop-dead gorgeous maybe I could resist her. I bet unsubs were scared shitless of her. Your thoughts are interrupted by a nudge at your side. Oh not this again... "Emily I swear to-" you can't even get the words out through her incessant tickling. "Stop!" you laugh loudly while she continues her ministrations. "Okay- Em- okay we can do it!" She lets you go but you both continue laughing. "Only if you promise not to get carried away."

She puts her hand on her heart and says sincerely, "I promise." Then her seriousness switches back to playfulness. "Now come on," she grabs your hand and starts dragging you to roof. "I understand your reasoning behind not letting me do this very often but I wanted to show you what I've taught myself."

When you get to the roof there’s an empty space with X’s on the everywhere made out of pens and pencils. “I like what you’ve done with the place.”

“As you may know, I’m not very good at Object Manipulation. Yet!” She stands between a blue pen and a red one while you sit on a random electrical box. You immediately jump up when you feel a jilt underneath. Gotta stop sitting near that stuff. I’m the person who helps the dead, not the one that kills them. Emily used to make the mistake of getting too close to patient monitors, making them flat line or speed up. It freaked the new nurses out but they checked on the patients and chopped it up to being outdated. When a ghost is present, nearby electronics tend to act up. I guess Emily didn’t get the memo in Ghost School. To be fair I am not the most qualified teacher. “Are you okay?” she goes to check on you but you wave her off.

“I’m fine, just uncomfortable,” you say while rubbing her backside.

“Come here,” she beacons “I can make it feel better.” Her devious smile comes out to play, easily drawing you towards her. She wraps her arms around your waist and pulls you flush against her. Her hands slowly trail down your back but before they can reach your ass she’s gone. The warmth and tingly feeling is gone. “Miss me already?” you whip around to see her standing on one of the Exes. Her smile is cocky as hell to say the least.“That was impressive, I’ll admit.” you stride to her but she teleports again. “Oh come on Angel, you walked right into that one.” She says from above you. Now she’s standing on top of the entrance, a level above where you’re standing.

“Very amusing Agent,” You flash right in front of her, startling her in the process. You quickly wrap an arm around her so she doesn’t fall. “But I can do better.” She stares into your eyes like she wants to say something.

“Prove it.” She challenges. You lean down to barely graze her lips, before you meet in the middle you flash behind her; gripping her hips possessively.

You lean into her ear, “Who do you answer to?” A light shiver runs down her spine.

She turns around so she can peer into your eyes. She trails an index finger across your bottom lip. “I belong to no one.”

“Not even me?” you ask with a punctuating grip to her hip.

“No.” she whispers while inching closer to your lips. “Not even you, Angel.” You’re so close it feels like you’re breathing in the same air with no regard to anything around you. “Would you like to kiss me?”

You take her to the library, its small but there’s hardly anyone here so it’ll do. When you arrive you have Emily bent over a table with her ass flushed to your front. “I want to see you writhe underneath me.” You pure into her ear.

She flashes so quickly you couldn’t stop her. Now you’re the one bent over a fucking table. “You first.” she growls while pinning your hip down. She leans in so close to your ear you can feel her cool breath.

“What are you going to do, Agent?” Calling her by the title has always been a tease, its amazing that in all the time she’s been here you’ve never...you know.

“Whatever I want with you.” You roll your hips back on to her and feel her knead your ass in return. “If I had a strap I’d fuck you with it.” She growls in your ear; her animalistic tone is the biggest turn on. Just the sound of her voice alone makes you squirm underneath her.

But of course you can’t let her win that easily so you focus your energy on the top of the bookshelf. “You can’t always get what you want, Agent.” You’re sitting on top of the wood shelf with your legs crossed; as regal as you were when you were alive. Emily looks baffled but entertained by the empty space in front of her. “Enough of your teasing, we have things to do.” You say as you hop down from the shelf and begin to walk out. You turn to see that she’s not following you so you call out to her. “Come along Prentiss.”

There was once a time where you would call her ‘Princess’ instead of Prentiss because of the way she’d demand to know everything and anything like she was royalty. Her attitude came off as a bit standoffish and bitchy in the beginning but that was just you being territorial. As you both settled into your routine and got to know each other you realized she’s a very closed off person and wouldn’t talk about her life from before. She’s uber smart and remains professional yet empathetic with all of the ghosts she encounters. She’s such a calm person that it shocked you by how upset the nickname made her. She didn’t flat out yell at you but it was evident that it upset her so you reasonably left the situation alone. She felt bad so she explained that one of her teammates used to call her that, she later let it slip that the guy was her partner. You obviously felt bad so now you just call her- “Agent!” You look over your shoulder to see Emily dragging her feet. “Get a move on, we don’t have time!”

“Ghosts always have time.” She mumbles while speeding up. “Can’t we just, I don’t know? Flash there?”

“No.” You slow down to let her catch up. “You need to learn to walk before you run and I don’t need you accidentally flashin’ into the nurse’s lockerooms again.”

She rolls her eyes. “That was one time.”

“And the time you ended up in the kitchen. You need to walk around and see the place for yourself before you keep ‘flashin’ between different places.”

“Right,” she mumbles “Hey where are we going anyway?”

“To meet someone.” You casually say but notice she’s stopped, promptly.

“To meet someone?” she repeats, a little shocked. “Meet who?”

“Nope,” you pull her by the arm “No stopping, we’re crunched for time.” Before she can stop again or argue, you link your arms.”This is not the time to pout or second doubt me, Emily.”

She scuffs, “I do not pout.”

“Okay, fine, you don’t pout in the traditional children sense. Happy?”

“No. Not until I know where we’re going or who we’re meeting.” She stops again, reeling you back in the process.

You turn to her and say, “A friend.”

“Is this one of your angelic friends?” She asks as you practically drag her along.

“Angelic frie- Never mind we’re here.” You have her standing in the back of the ICU, the quietest of all the wings. “I only know like two, three angels tops.”

She laughs a little at that, “Angel...” she trails “Who is that?”

You turn to where she’s looking and see a beautiful darkened figure with their back to you. “Mazikeen!” You shout with excitement me when she turns around. You run to her and she automatically catches you. Hey sharp fanged smile is just as stunning as the last time you saw it.

“How’s my favorite human?” The brunette asks with her sultry South American accent.

“Good! How’s my favorite demon?” She just smiles even wider at your excitement until her eyes fall on Emily.

“Who’s the hottie?”

“Maze,” You tilt your head in disapproval. “Play nice.” She sets you down and struts over to Emily. Em looks confused yet curious so you don’t interrupt the demon from doing whatever she’s doing.

“Oh I always play nice with the pretty ones.”

She examines Emily with shear interest, when she moves to touch her hair Emily steps back. “Y/n...is there something you’d care to explain?”

“Emily, meet my friend Mazikeen,”

“But you can call me Maze.” She winks.

“Maze, this is Supervisory Special Agent Emily Prentiss.”

“Is she,” she covers the side of her mouth and points to Em. “Dead?”

You mimic her ridiculous gesture and whisper, “Very.” You walk to them and give your demon another hug. “I missed you, Maze.”

“I missed you too y/n/n. Why didn’t you introduce me to her sooner? We could’ve had a thre-”

“Maze!”

“Right...well, mom says hi and I’m not going to be here very long. I just gotta grab a few people and I’ll be out but of course...” She wraps her arms around your waist, “I wanted to stop by and say hi.”

“Hi,” you whisper. “You know I love you but...” You look over to Em.

“You’ve found another...” She strokes your left cheek with the back of her cold hand. “Its okay, I’m not mad. We both knew I was never made for love.” She takes a glance over her shoulder to an intrigued Emily. “She’s pretty, brave, and smart. You’ve outdone yourself little human.” She makes a full 180 to look at the agent. “Take care of Casper for me.”

“Uhm do I look like a friendly ghost to you?” You gesture down to your perfect silhouette.

Maze grins at that before turning back to Em. “Hurt them and there will be hell to pay.” She snarls but Emily doesn’t faultier.

“I’m not the one that left.” She replies and the demon laughs at that.

“Left?” She looks back to me and bursts into a cackle with her fangs out. “Whatever you say. I have work to do anyway, so do you.” She starts to walk down the hall of the ICU and says, “Goodbye human, you still look as good as ever.” She blows a kiss at you before rounding the corner. You’re stuck in your spot because shit that kind of hurt.

You feel Emily’s hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“Its fine.” You turn to her. “She was never meant for relationships anyway.” At her expressionless face you continue. “Maze is a sex demon, we met a little while after I died. I kept seeing her in the hall but only in flashes. At first I thought she was a Wanderer or something but then I confronted her and she reluctantly told me who she was. We used to have fun together.” She just nods with an understanding expression and really, her silent facial expression speaks volumes. “Ghosts can’t feel a lot of things but sexual gratification is one of the exceptions.” This is where you shed a tear despite what you just said. Emily pulls you in for one of her gentle, yet meaningful hug. “Emily, I’m so sorry.”

She pulls you back to look into your eyes. “Why? You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“I should’ve told you about her sooner. I wanted you two to meet because I thought you were alike in many ways but I wasn’t expecting the jealous attitude. She’s never been like that before.”

‘Maybe its because she sees us having something she can’t have with you. Is what Emily wants to say but instead she says, “You didn’t have to tell me if you didn’t want to. I know I pressure you into revealing a lot of information to me but if I had know it negatively affects you I would-”

You interrupt her rambling with a soft kiss to her lips. You pull back to see her neutral facial expression. Shit. Sensing your internal panic she quickly explains, “No no I’m not upset, just surprised. That’s all.” There’s that wicked smile. “I always thought I’d be the one making the first move.” She takes a big step forward and captures your lip between her’s. Her hand reaches around the back of your head and pulls you closer so you put your arm around her waist and do the same. It felt different that what you and maze used to have, spiritual perception of emotions isn’t the same and humans but that doesn’t mean you’re as numb as people think. And with Emily, you actually feel something for once. Something true. ‘Alive’ isn’t the proper word for it but it feels close enough. It feels so fucking good to the point where you don’t want to come up for air but ultimately you have to. “Breathe.” She laughs.

You press your forehead to her’s, “Why, when all I need is you?”

She laughs at that, something she didn’t do much of when you first met. “You are unbelievably cliche.”

After this movie like exchange you end up laying in the middle of the Green Yard; Emily on the bottom and you wrapped in her arms. Since you can’t exactly ‘nap’ you just lay there and take in the good feeling Emily’s arms provide you. Whenever Francis is around you’ll have to ask him about this feeling because you know good and well ghosts can’t feel love. Then what the hell do I call this wonderful feeling?

“Y/n?” Em looks up from a book I gave her. Its taken her a while to learn how to hold anything over an ounce.

“Hmm?” You turn your attention to her, she looks as beautiful as always.

“What do ghosts feel?”

“What do you mean, Em?” You take a seat across from her.

“Do we have emotions or feelings?”

“Well, what do you feel?” You ask softly.

“I don’t know?”

“Remember the time I banned you from leaving the inpatient wing?”

“Yeah...it completely sucked.” She huffs.

“And how did that make you feel?” You trail.

“Mildly irritated.” She immediately answers without realizing so you politely stare until it finally dawns on her. Her eyes widen and her mouth opens into an o-shape.

“Exactly.”

You look up at the goddess that’s holding you captive. “Emily?” You call from under her arm.

“Hmm?”

“What are you feeling?” You ask softly.

“What do you mean, Angel?”

“Emotionally I mean.” You explain with an eerie feeling of deja vu.

“Remember the first time I showed you I could transport? I did it without any help and I surprisingly did it correctly.” She jokes.

“Yeah I remember.”

“And how did that make you feel?”

“Happy.” You smile at the cute memory.

“That’s how I’m feeling right now. As happy as you were that day, if not more.”

You twist so you can look at her. “I really like you Emily Prentiss.” You lean up to give her a chaste kiss on her sharp jawline.

“I like you too y/n.” She presses a dominating kiss to your lips that makes yours look like child’s play.

sorry for any typos. I hate proof reading

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dannyphannypack · 4 years

Text

DP/PJO Crossover

Hello losers and welcome back to Taylor Writes A Teaser and Later Deletes the Entire Thing Because She Decides She Doesn’t Like it but She Wants to Put the Teaser Somewhere Else Where Her Grimy Little Hands Can’t Reach it so the Teaser Isn’t Lost Forever to Time! The Series. Today I’ve got a prologue for my upcoming fic, The Phantom Recollection. Enjoy!

“Woah.”

Daniel Fenton, newly fifteen, stood outside the Washington Square Park in lower Manhattan with a cardboard box overflowing with weaponry. He stood in front of the park’s Roman triumphal arch, where two statues of George Washington stared down at him. Behind the president on either side were two other people Danny didn’t recognize.

Jasmine, Danny’s older sister by two years, came up behind him toting another cardboard box labelled ‘Samples.’ She nodded toward the eastern pier. “That’s George Washington as Commander-in-Chief, Accompanied by Fame and Valor.” Jazz recited the words as if reading straight out of a textbook. “And the other one is George Washington as President, Accompanied by Wisdom and Justice.”

“Ah, yes,” Danny said as he adjusted his box. Guns were heavy. “My four favorite people: Fame, Valor, Wisdom, and Justice. Love those guys.”

Jazz nudged him with her shoulder and continued through the arch, where a crowd of people were gathered around a large fountain with jets that spewed water 45 feet into the air. A few adults sat around the fountain with their feet in the water and kids ran across the surface in swimsuits and trunks. Danny watched as one kid walked a little too close to the fountain and got pummeled by falling water.

The perimeter of Washington Square was decorated in booths. While one half of the square was shaded by the surrounding trees, the other half was enduring the hot July sun. Some people had been smart enough to bring canopy tents. Others were already baking.

“There,” Jazz said, pointing. A single empty fold-up table on the other side of the square sat in the sun with a sign that read, “RESERVED — Fentons.” Danny used a hand to shade his eyes in an attempt to get a better look at it.

“I told you that you should’ve brought sunglasses,” Jazz said. Danny figured she was rolling her eyes underneath her own pair of aviators.

“Yeah, yeah,” Danny huffed. “Let’s just go before I drop this Fenton-Tech all over the ground.”

A big guy in a bright orange neoprene HAZMAT suit ran into Danny from behind, almost making him fall over. Jack Fenton carried seven stacked cardboard boxes. “Whoops!” he shouted. “Didn’t see you there!”

Danny figured he couldn’t see anyone, anywhere, but a similarly-dressed woman in a bright blue suit came up behind him and urged him along. “Jack, I told you that we could just take a second trip.”

Beside Danny, Jazz hunched her shoulders like she thought she could hide in a turtle shell. “If anyone asks, I’m not related.”

Danny’s parents were … quirky, to say the least. Danny rarely saw them without their suits in public, and Danny even less so with his mom’s hood and red-tinted goggles. Underneath was a chin-length bob of red hair and deep blue eyes, almost purple in color. She was nothing compared to his dad, though, who was easily six feet seven and built like an MMA fighter (minus the rippling muscles). Huge. Stocky. Shaped vaguely like a box. He was difficult to miss. Even behind the boxes, people that walked past were giving him strange looks. Danny figured that was bad, since they were at a ghost convention.

“Not any ghost convention!” His dad had exclaimed, barely a week ago. “The Haunted America Conference in Alton, Illinois!”

“It’s not in Alton anymore, Jack,” His mom had sighed like they’d been over this three times already. “They had to move it due to popular demand.”

“Where is it, then?” Danny asked.

His mom had beamed. “Oh, Danny, you’re going to love this: New York City!”

And that’s how they’d ended up in America’s most populated city, carrying ghost weapons across a supposedly haunted park in the middle of July. Danny was pretty good at telling where ghosts were and where they weren’t, and there definitely wasn’t anybody here. The land had once been used as a mass burial ground during the yellow fever, but the spirits had all moved on since. If Danny had died during the yellow fever, he wouldn’t have stuck around either. Children running playfully over his unmarked corpse? No thanks.

Danny set his box at the foot of the table. His dad was trying to bend down without spilling the contents of his seven boxes everywhere, and his mom was fussing over him. “Don’t worry, Maddie, I got it!” his dad said, and he set the boxes on the pavement a little too roughly. The bottom box made a noise like breaking glass and crumpled underneath the weight. Ectoplasm began oozing out the sides.

“I’ve got the other samples,” Jazz drawled, setting down the box. “If you need me I’ll be by the fountain pretending that I don’t exist.” She shouldered her backpack and walked away.

“I’m just gonna go, uh, walk around,” Danny said.

His mom opened her mouth like she meant to tell him to stay there and help set up the booth, but she replaced the expression with a hesitant smile. “Go have fun. Be back by noon.”

“Thanks, Mom.” Danny knew how much his mother liked physical reassurance, so he stood on his tip-toes and pecked her cheek. “Love you.”

She smiled. “Love you, too.”

Danny turned and started heading around the square, glancing at people’s ghostly booths without actually getting close enough to warrant a conversation. He didn’t get a chance to walk very far, though. While passing a section of the square that branched off into a sidewalk, an old lady in a black hood grabbed him by the hand and pulled him aside. Despite the temperature (and the outfit choice), her skin felt cold. Danny forced himself to remain calm. Not a ghost, he told himself. Still, the woman set him on edge. When she opened her mouth, she sounded like she was hissing. Between gasping breaths, she said,

“Three shall find the child of death

Who loses his mind with one gasping breath

The son of the sea god must attend

To repay the kindness of a forgotten friend

See that his memories are safely returned

Or the reign of the King will be overturned.”

Danny blinked and she was gone, melting into the shadows of a big elm tree. “Wait!” he shouted, but the old woman had disappeared.

A wild animal growled nearby, but it came from all sides and echoed like Danny was in a cave.

He shivered. Get it together, Fenton. You’re losing it, man.

Thinking about how characters in movies splashed their faces with cold water when they were upset, he turned and walked down the sidewalk in search of a restroom.

Jazz sat on the steps of the fountain. With her laptop balanced in her lap, she reached into her backpack and removed a flash drive from her key ring of flash drives. This one was marked by a little cartoon ghost painted in neon green nail polish. She inserted it and opened up the folder. More folders stared back at her. Ghost Psychology, Ghost Physiology, Ghost Physics, Ghost Theories, Ghost, Ghost, Ghost. Jazz pursed her lips. Maybe she should take the ‘Ghost’ out of all her folder titles. The nail polish ghost on her flash drive already told her what it was.

“Hey,” someone said from behind her, and she jumped. Pulling her computer screen down, Jazz turned and looked up at the girl who had spoken.

She might have been a bit younger than Danny, though Jazz couldn’t tell exactly. She had long, curly red hair and dozens of freckles that decorated her nose like tiny paint splatters. Her eyes were so green they practically glowed in the light of the sun, swirling with mirth and curiosity. She was wearing red running shorts and a white t-shirt, so she looked like she had just finished a jog. Jazz supposed that she might have; this was a park, not a year-round ghost convention.

“Hi,” Jazz replied, pushing up her sunglasses so that they rested on her head. She visibly relaxed.

The girl chuckled and sat down beside her. She began taking off her sneakers and socks. “Surprised to see a fellow redhead at the Haunted America Conference.”

Jazz looked up and observed the crowd. She didn’t know how she hadn’t noticed before, but the people wandering about the square were a sea of black clothes and colorfully-dyed hair.

Jazz snorted and reopened her laptop. “That’s why you came over here?”

“No. I happened to see your computer screen.” She leaned in close for a better look. “Ghost Psychology, huh?”

Jazz closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Look, I know it seems weird—”

“No, I love it!” The girl said. “Everybody else here is all, ‘Palmistry, Chakra, Tarot Readings.’ You’re asking the real questions. What do ghosts think about? That’s what I’m interested in.”

If anybody else had said that, Jazz would have assumed they were being condescending. This girl, though … she could tell that she was just curious. “You believe in ghosts?”

“Yeah, sure,” she said, putting her feet in the water and kicking them back and forth a bit. “Why not? Had this weird experience at the Hoover Dam last month. Not a ghost, I think, but—” she cut herself off and bit her lip, like she was trying to stop herself from retelling it. She raised her hand for Jazz to shake. “My name’s Rachel. Rachel Dare.”

Jazz shook it politely. “Jazz Fenton.”

“Fenton, huh?” Rachel looked like that name sounded familiar but she didn’t want to say anything about it.

“Yeah, I know,” Jazz said, preparing herself for the obligatory ‘I’m a Fenton’ speech. “Parents are Maddie and Jack Fenton, ghost hunters extraordinaire. Last year they saved Amity Park from being annihilated by the Ghost King, yadda yadda.

“They did what?” Rachel squeaked, but she sounded more amused than shocked. “Ghost King?”

Jazz mentally berated herself. Without thinking, she’d started spewing the information that everybody back in her home state wanted to know. She hadn’t thought about the fact that she was in New York, hundreds of miles away. Stupid.

Rachel must have saw Jazz wince, because she switched gears. “So, ghost hunters,” she said. “Your folks got a TV show?”

Jazz took a second to process the change in topic. She blinked once. Twice. Suddenly, she burst out laughing.

“What?” Rachel yelled over Jazz’s laughter. “What’s so funny?”

Jazz giggled but calmed down. “Sorry. My parents having a TV show … I can’t imagine.”

“What do they do then?” she asked. “Ghost Tours?”

“Ghost—?” Jazz cleared her throat to keep herself from laughing again. “No, no, no, Rachel, you’ve got my family all wrong. Think, ‘shoot first and ask questions later.’”

Rachel’s eyes widened. “They shoot ghosts? How does that work?”

Jazz jabbed a finger behind her, where her parents had started on the box of weaponry. Her mom set the Fenton Bazooka down. Like anybody was gonna buy that.

Rachel gulped. “So I’m hoping you’re the ‘ask questions, shoot later’ one.”

Jazz nodded mutely and opened her Ghost Psychology folder. At the top was a folder labelled ‘Danny Phantom,’ but she scrolled past it to the general information. “My parents think that ghosts are inherently evil and have no thoughts of their own. They’re just a bad copy of their old human consciousness, wanting to get revenge on humans because they’re jealous that we’re alive or something. But they’re so much more than that. They have these—these ghostly obsessions.” She opened a Word document and began scrolling. “But they’re not evil obsessions. Sure, when they die, they can be like, ‘I’m going to make them pay.’ But usually it’s more of a gray area. Like, ‘I’m going to watch after my family,’ or ‘I’m never going to stop writing.’ What my parents don’t understand is that they’re not unary; they can think about other things. They aren’t limited to one state of mind.”

Rachel looked surprised at the sudden lecture, but she adjusted quickly. “Who is Skulker?”

“Oh.” Jazz paused and bit her lip. “He’s—he’s not the best.”

“What’s his obsession?”

“Hunting,” Jazz said, though she didn’t sound as excited as she had before.

“I’m guessing he’s not hunting for deer,” Rachel said, watching Jazz’s reaction. “Okay. Then … who is Danny Phantom? Why’s he got a folder to himself?”

Jazz’s eyes widened.

“Right. Another touchy subject.”

“No,” Jazz said, shaking her head. “No, he’s … he’s good. Great, even. I think he’s obsessed with protecting people.”

“Well, that’d good, isn’t it?”

“Yeah!” Jazz exclaimed. “I mean, yeah, it’s really good.”

Rachel stared at her. “But … something’s wrong?”

Jazz exhaled slowly through her nose, considering what she should and should not say. “He’s just a little … too protective, I guess. Never thinks about himself. Always rushes in when he could get hurt.”

“Ghosts can get hurt?” Rachel asked.

“This one can.”

Rachel could tell that Jazz didn’t want to talk about it, but she was curious. Choosing her words carefully, she asked, “What’s he like?”

Jazz smiled. “Oh, he’s great. Always saving the day. You know, everybody thanks my parents for the Ghost King thing, but it was really him. Our entire city was transported to a different dimension called the Ghost Zone. It’s where all ghosts live. The Ghost King had just woken up. People doubted his power. He was going to kill us all to set an example. Let everybody know that he was in charge.”

Jazz took a deep breath. “And then … well, Phantom couldn’t stand for that. He was already upset because … someone else got hurt. So he went up there by himself and beat him. He could’ve died.” Her eyes widened. “Well, not died, but he could’ve gotten hurt.”

They sat in silence for a moment, staring out at the fountain and watching the water splash against the surface. Some little kids ran by them, laughing. Rachel said, “You like this guy a lot, huh?”

That seemed to break Jazz out of her stupor. Her cheeks turned red. “Not romantically!” she shouted. “I care about him like a little brother. Not—” She put her face in her hands.

Rachel laughed and stood, shaking the water off her bare feet. “I’ve got to get going before my dad comes home for his lunch break and finds out that I’ve left the house. It was nice meeting you, Jazz.” She pointed at the laptop. “You keep that ghost science thing up. You never know. You might end up publishing it and becoming famous.”

“Your shoes,” Jazz said, grabbing the sneakers and holding them up to her. Her socks had been stuffed into the toes.

“Oh! Right.” She took them but didn’t bother putting them on; instead, she started walking up the steps and back into the square, barefoot. “And you keep that Phantom kid from doing anything stupid!” She added.

Jazz laughed. “I’ll try!” she shouted back.

Just like that, Rachel Dare was gone.

In hindsight, Danny should’ve known that he’d never get a break. Weird stuff had been happening to him since last year like clockwork. August: get ghost powers. September: fight ghosts. November: find out that a creepy old man has ghost powers, too. December: fight ghosts. On and on and on until now, watching people stumble through the gates of a sandy dog park behind the restroom he’d found. An old lady shuffled past him, screaming bloody murder. “Rabid dog!”

Danny turned back towards the dog park. That thing was no dog. Snarling angrily at a park ranger was a full-grown lion, 500 pounds at least. It snorted a small plume of red-orange fire. Danny blanched. Yeah, so maybe it wasn’t a lion.

Danny was still trying to process its more … interesting parts. From its back sprouted a black ram’s head, with big, curly ebony horns and a sneer almost as nasty as the lion’s. It, too, huffed, but only smoke came from its mouth. Thank god. Danny didn’t know if he could handle two fire-breathing heads.

Then there was the matter of the tail. The golden fur grew in patches before tapering off into tough yellow and orange snake-skin. At the tail’s end was a full, honest-to-god python. As he watched, the snake looked up at Danny and flicked its tongue.

This was a ghost. It had to be a ghost, right? Sure, it didn’t glow like a ghost … and it didn’t float like a ghost … and it didn’t set off his ghost-sense like a ghost … but what else could it be? An animal experiment escapee from the Central Park Zoo? Danny seriously doubted that.

The park ranger pressed his back against the fence, which was a little too high for him to jump, and made a high-pitched whimpering sound. Danny shook his head. He didn’t have time for this. Whatever it was, he had to get rid of it.

Danny glanced nervously at the security cameras attached to the public restroom and nestled between the trees. Okay. He had to get rid of it, but without ghost powers. How?

Looking around for anything he could use, Danny settled on rock and tossed it twice into the air to test its weight. Deciding that it would work, he shouted, “Hey, Alex the Lion!” and threw it as hard as he could. It hit the creature in the back of the head.

That got its attention. Turning away from the ranger, the lion growled and set the floor around the gate on fire. Danny surveyed the fence. He wondered if he could jump it or if he’d seriously have to run through flames to get inside. Danny didn’t like heat. It wasn’t his thing. If he channeled a little flight into the jump, would it be too noticeable?

He didn’t have to think about it for very long, though. A boy and a girl, apparently unconcerned with the security cameras, catapulted over the fence on the other side and somersaulted into a standing position, one holding a dagger and the other holding an entire sword.

A sword. This day was just getting weirder and weirder.

The girl kicked the guy in the back of the knee, causing him to fall. She pushed him toward the lion. “Mmm, look, yummy demigod!”

“Annabeth!” The guy spluttered, standing. Just in the nick of time, too. Their entrance had caught the creature’s attention. It lunged forward. The kid jumped out of the way.

Danny raised his eyebrows. The girl, Annabeth, had her wavy blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail. She wore jean shorts and a hazard orange t-shirt similar to Danny’s dad’s suit. The guy was wearing the same shirt, though he had a pair of black basketball shorts on instead. Together, they shared a matching gray streak of hair. He wondered if they’d dyed it together.

In the other corner, the park ranger fainted.

With nothing but sand and rocks to fuel it, the flames around the gate died, allowing Danny to walk in like a normal person. Unlike the other two, he’d rather not high-jump a fence with security cameras watching. Even in New York he needed to keep up appearances.

The creature rushed toward Annabeth and its snake head-of-a-tail wrapped around her arm, squeezing until she dropped her dagger with a pained yelp. She looked down at it and kicked it in the general direction of the other guy.

Okay, my turn, Danny thought. He grabbed another rock (this one sharper, yay!), stepped through the gate, and threw it. It cut a long gash through the ram’s cheek. The lion turned to face him.

Both of the strangers looked surprised to see him there, like they hadn’t noticed a fifteen-year-old kid standing by the front gates. Honestly, Danny was surprised that he was still there, too. He had seriously considered running away when he saw them jump the fence. He had thought, Great! Back to my vacation, but his feet stayed firmly planted on the ground.

Annabeth recovered quickly. With the lion-goat-snake-thing distracted, she ripped her arm free of the snake’s grip and tumbled away.

The lion head roared, shooting fire across the park at Danny. He rolled out of the way and stood, bouncing on his toes. What he would give to be able to fly right now.

The other guy stared at him.

“What?” Danny snapped.

“Your pants are on fire.”

Danny looked down. Sure enough, the hem of his jeans hadn’t been as lucky as the rest of him. Patting it out, he shouted, “Dude!”

And then the lion was on top of him.

Now, Danny had been in some pretty sticky situations. The lion had his arms pinned on either side of his head. Danny couldn’t help but flash back to another time, when a ghost panther had been on top of him in the same fashion. It wasn’t the same, but still. Two giant cats pinning him to the ground in a year? That was sad.

On one side of him was Annabeth, on the other, the guy. Annabeth pointed frantically to his right. His eyes flicked in the direction she was indicating. Ah, yes, the dagger! He’d never be able to grab it with the creature’s full attention on him, though.

“Percy,” Annabeth said in a harsh whisper. He didn’t seem to notice. With a stomp, Annabeth ground out, “Per-see!” and nodded her head toward the dagger. He opened his mouth like, Ah, hyped himself up by jumping up and down, and started running top speed with his sword held high above his head, screaming.

The lion gnashed its teeth like it was annoyed. The goat head bleated angrily. The snake hissed. In one swift motion, the creature lifted one of its massive paws and hit Percy across the stomach. He flew backward into the metal fence.

Fortunately for Danny, that was all the time he needed. With one arm free, he reached for the dagger, got a hold of it, and pushed it into the lion’s chest. He cringed, bracing himself for the five hundred pounds of lion-goat-snake-thing that was about to die on top of him. Instead, it began raining sand.

Danny opened his eyes, sat up, and immediately began gagging. “It got in my mouth!” he yelled, though it sounded more like, “It got in me mouf!”

Percy, who had been thrown into the fence and didn’t look much better than Danny, had the audacity to start laughing. Danny turned and glared at him, using his hands to brush lion-goat-snake dust off his tongue. He only succeeded in adding more sand from the ground to his mouth.

Annabeth held out her hand for Danny and helped him to stand. Percy cleared his throat, like, Hey, aren’t you gonna help me up, too? but Annabeth just looked Danny up and down with a puzzled expression. Her eyes were gray like a storm cloud. “Who are you?” she asked. It sounded like an accusation.

Danny was still spitting sand and monster dust all over the ground. “Danny,” he said between gagging. “Bleh.”

“First time?” Percy quipped, helping himself up by leaning heavily on the fence behind him. He winced and held his stomach.

“I’m Annabeth,” Annabeth said. She gestured flippantly at her friend. “That’s Percy. I’ve never seen you before. Where did you come from?”

Danny furrowed his eyebrows, thoroughly confused. “You ever meet a tourist?”

Annabeth continued to stare at him. Shaking her head, she asked, “Where’s your parent?”

“Uh, parents? And they’re at Washington Square.”

“You have a stepparent?” Percy blurted.

“What?”

Percy changed gears. “You’re adopted?”

“What? No!”

Percy’s eyes widened. He muttered, “You’re like Rachel?”

“Who?” Danny and Annabeth asked in unison. For once he wasn’t the only one out of the loop.

“Look,” Danny said, brushing himself off. “This has been super fun, but I’ve got a ghost convention to get back to.” He turned on his heel and started stalking out of the dog park. What was up with them assuming he didn’t have parents? And people thought he was nuts.

“Wait!” Percy shouted. Danny paused mid-step. “Thank you.”

Danny considered that. He wasn’t supposed to be a hero in human form. It was dangerous. Even now, he was running through scenes in his head of these two stealing the security footage and putting him on YouTube or something. Highly unlikely, but anxiety twisted that in his head and made him more and more uncomfortable. He turned back around. “Look … don’t tell anybody about this, yeah?” Then, to disguise his nervousness, he said, “My parents would flip if they found out lion-goat-snake hybrids existed.”

“Chimera,” Annabeth said.

“Bless you,” said Percy.

“What? No! Percy, you of all people should know this. The Chimera is a Greek monster. Bellerophon shot it with the help of Pegasus. Do you listen to anything we tell you in camp?”

Percy shrugged noncommittally.

Annabeth fumed. “I—”

“You could come with us, you know,” Percy said, cutting Annabeth off. “To camp, I mean.”

Danny pretended like he was considering the offer. “Hmm, a camp with a Greek mythology class? No thanks.”

“It’s not a myth,” Percy said, rushing to get what he wanted to say out before Danny lost interest and left. “The Greek gods, I mean. They’re real. We could really use someone like you.”

Danny considered this. Right, so … crazy. They were crazy. If the Greek gods existed, why would there be a Ghost Zone? Didn’t spirits go to the Underworld in Greek mythology or something? But then again … what else could that lion-goat-snake thing be? It definitely wasn’t a ghost.

Danny shook his head. He had enough things to worry about. This was crossing into the Too Weird category. Turning, he said, “Thanks for the offer, but I’ve gotta go throw rocks at some other monsters. See you around.”

He walked out the gates and down the sidewalk towards Washington Square, thinking, I could really go for a sandwich right now.

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chaoticneutralwriter · 4 years

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Interlude: Second Best

long·ing | \ ˈlȯŋ-iŋ : a strong desire especially for something unattainable guardian demon!Jimin x reader genre: fluff, romance, angst, comedy, supernatural word count: 4.9k Related works: See Masterlist under guardian demon!Jimin POV switch for Jamais Vu A/N: IT’S ANGSTY LOLLL woops and a little longer than i had planned tbh but i hope you enjoy it all the same, because this will give you some insight when the tone shifts in the next couple of chapters :DD Again, thank you SO SO SO much for the wait and support! I love you all!! I hope you like this chapter! 💜💜💜🥺🥺🥺 (also, without meaning to, The Truth Untold really fits as an OST here... LOL)

Tag: @cherryjiminiee @kokobaekkie @breathebangtan @itsadoozie @thatshylatinagirl @chiminieboi @azulamakesmeblank @sectumsemptae @awkwardwookie @aduky @poisonseashell @shortannoyingginger @caramelmac-chiato @sana-b

He needs to stop doing that.

Tempting himself with little touches whenever he gets the chance. They’re harmless enough but he might as well be dissecting his own heart at an excruciatingly slow pace.

But he’s come to know by now that he doesn’t have much sense when it comes to you.

Jimin moves through the crowd like a phantom, passing by without so much as a second glance from anyone despite your lack of trust with his choice of attire. To others, he’s just another traveler trying to get to where they need to go. And right now, he’s shadowing you, eyes trained on the back of yours and your friend’s head. He’s got a clear view even when Jimin is a good twenty or so steps back and there’s a wall of people separating him from you, keeping well to his word that he would be discreet enough that you won’t even notice him.

He watches from a far as you and your friend are excitedly chattering away with two girls whom you have never met before as if you have always known them. The entire interaction makes his lips curl with an amused smile. Under different circumstances, Jimin would think it all stupid; not really understanding how ridiculously trusting you were being just because you all shared a common love for a group of musical artist yet somehow, seeing you makes it strangely wholesome.

It’s in those moments that he chances a glimpse of what humanity could be but ultimately choose not to.

Jimin eventually leaves you, weirdly confident that you’re in good hands as he hails an airport limo. One almost immediately pulls up beside him, the man hastily getting out.

“Good morning sir, where are we heading off to today?” The driver asks as he comes around to pull the door open for Jimin to duck in, gliding into the seat.

“The Ritz-Carlton, downtown.”

The man nods in acknowledgement, shutting the door once he’s sure Jimin is settled before jogging back to the driver’s seat. The drive there is quiet, something the demon is thankful for because he’s not in a particular mood to humour anyone. He takes the time to slip the black surgical mask off, finally feeling the cooler air hit against his warmer skin. He exchanges it for a pair of shades he pulls from his duffle, slipping them on before he crosses his arms, sighing deeply and sinks into the plush leather.

The traffic gets noticeably more congested the closer the car comes to the downtown area so it takes a while before the entrance to the hotel comes into view. Jimin hands off a couple of bills to the driver when he opens the door for him again, hauling his duffle bag and jacket as he steps out. The driver courteously bids him a good day but Jimin only has half the mind to offer a grunt in response, heading off into the lobby in long strides to the front desk where a man in a pristinely pressed suit greets him. He’s quickly given the keys to his room and is escorted to the lifts, the bellhop offering to take his things but Jimin waves a dismissive hand, keeping to himself as much as possible.

By the time he gets to his suite, he’s feels unreasonably weary and all but tosses his duffle bag carelessly to the foot of the king size bed along with his shades to collapse into the soft embrace of Egyptian cotton sheets. Jimin shuts his eyes for a moment, hands coming up to rub the bridge of his nose as another deep exhale leaves him.

If he was a normal human being, Jimin shouldn’t be feeling this tired since for majority of the plane ride, he had fallen into quite a deep slumber. But since he’s in fact not a human being, it only raises concerns. Lately, he’s noticed that he’s been sleeping a lot more — way more than a demon should be doing considering they don’t sleep at all (it’s viewed as more of a leisure activity to do rather than something that’s required) and if he’s not sleeping, he’s constantly feeling like he’s got a bad case of lethargy. It’s troubling and also irritating as hell, but Jimin already suspects its the unfortunate byproduct of having completed two acts of the five he needs to do.

And has no idea how to do the rest.

His eyes slip open then, brows furrowing with dark obsidian orbs glaring into the cream coloured ceiling like it would give him the answers. The second act was a stroke of luck on his part, Jimin thinks; a matter of being in the right place at the right time and for very good reasons. He can’t imagine accomplishing the rest in the same manner.

Running a hand through his hair, Jimin contemplates a little longer until he huffs out an agitated sigh. As much as he doesn’t want to admit it, it won’t do him to mull over this problem endlessly, figuring that he can be at least thankful that there doesn’t seem to be any particular deadline (knock on wood). Glancing at the beside clock, he sees the red numbers reading 1:36PM and idly wonders if you’re still at the venue no doubt soaking in all the excitement and activity going on.

A small smile tugs at the corner of his lips, already imagining you, eyes alight with the biggest grin on your face as you try to take everything in. Finally, he hauls himself to sit up, giving his neck a few stretches before he gets off the bed to make his way to the en suite bathroom. With so much time to waste, Jimin hopes that a cold shower would help wash away a bit of his fatigue, quite literally. Besides that, he hasn’t felt any intense negative emotions from you which more than likely means everything is fine, for now.

He half-heartedly shuts the door, reaching up to grasp his shirt from the back of his neck to pull over his head. The black tee is dropped to the floor without much care, along with the rest of his clothes. He passes by the mirror, catching a glimpse of himself and though it was brief, the image reflecting back at him made him grimace all the same.

The natural glow on his skin had long since dulled, making him appear as if Jimin hadn’t seen the sun in months, the ghost of blue veins and bruises peeking from beneath made even more visible from how pale he’s become. The tattoo crest over the left side of his chest is faded, almost in a way where the ink is slowly being rubbed off a little bit more each day — another indication of his reduced powers. He’s lost a bit of weight, most noticeably around his face and although it’s defined his jawline significantly, his cheeks are at risk of hollowing out soon.

It’s only truly been a day, and yet now he is nothing more than a withering, duller version of who he’s supposed to be.

A cheap imitation.

He scoffs, a humourless sort of laugh. How ironic it is that he’s come to care more on what’s supposed to be a very superficial part of being a demon, perhaps even found meaning to.

When he steps into the clear glass shower stall, Jimin turns the water until it runs ice cold before stepping under. He inhales sharply at the first contact, the shock in the temperature hitting against his more warmer skin but he quickly grows numb to it, grateful for the way the water seems to ease the discomfort growing along his shoulder blades. Jimin doesn’t know how long he stands there, eyes shut and lulled by the sounds of the running shower beating down on him and echoing around in the enclosure.

It’s a temporary respite from his thoughts and when he finally decides to shut the water off, he feels a little more alert. He towels himself off, wrapping one around his slim waist as he heads back into the large bedroom to grab a change of clothes from his duffle.

Once he’s dressed, he dries his hair and by the time he’s done, the clock reads near five. The show starts in two and a half hours, he supposes he should get a scope of the venue. Grabbing the black surgical mask, Jimin secures the ends behind his ears, preparing to apparate to the arena when —

He stops midstep.

Ah, right.

A rush of air leaves his nose, cocking his head as your words replay in his head. He already hears your chastising tone with them too.

He quietly chuckles to himself, then continues walking, heading to his door.

With as much discretion as he could manage (okay, he might’ve cheated here and there by cloaking himself), he makes it to the venue which wasn’t so bad of a walk from the hotel. No one pays attention to him, with the hood of his pullover drawn up he was just another faceless person in the passing crowd. It only really got trickier the closer he came to the epicentre of it all.

He sticks to the shadows and less populated spots, staying out of sight and blending in wherever he can. There are still some large crowds gathered at some of the booths, trying to take advantage of the quickly dwindling number of patrons who have already moved on to getting into the arena. Others are running as fast as their feet can carry them, racing against time in whatever it is they needed to do while it seems like eighty percent of the concert goers are in a line, excitedly chatting and impatient to have the show start. It’s a hubbub of activity, boisterous and charged with energy that even Jimin has a bit of a struggle orienting himself. So not much later, he slinks towards the side alley of the building where the crowds tend to avoid.

It grows a little quieter the further he moves down the path, the jumble of voices becoming more muffled. The asphalt paving is cracked in numerous places with some giving way to potholes that Jimin can only guess is from how often trucks carrying equipment for events pass through here, or even ones meant to empty the dumpsters pressed up against the walls. Weeds sprout long and thin against them in bunches, pushing tenaciously through the cracks and somehow still managing to grow in spite of the lack of good soil. The poor upkeep alone is enough to deter anyone from wandering back here, which means Jimin can peacefully explore the area.

His strides slow without the rushing need to remain hidden, strolling along the alley before his eyes come across a door right beside one of the large dumpsters, perfectly situated so that it’s almost concealed. It lacks any handle, the only thing visible was a metal plate ridge on the side and a silver keyhole. Jimin supposes this meant that the door opens one way, probably for employees to quickly throw out the trash but otherwise is not by any means a point of entry.

Perfect.

He takes one more glance around, makes sure no one is looking and then with all of his concentration, phases through. Immediately his senses are bombarded by the booming of the bass as well as the far off distant hustle of people, but he pushes all of it aside in trying to shake off the fuzzy haze clouding his sight and the light thrumming in his head. Jimin presses a palm to his forehead, shutting his eyes with gritted teeth until the feeling subsides and he straightens himself, a little flabbergasted.

Fuck, this is going to suck.

He pushes the disconcerting fact that phasing through a door was enough to make him dizzy, focusing on doing what he came here to do; find a loophole in security and make sure you won’t get hurt at any point during the night — easy.

With light steps, Jimin makes his way out of the corridor, coming into an area spacious enough to have golf carts driving through (no sooner had he thought that, one goes zooming by). It vaguely reminds him of an underground parking garage except less…dingy. There are a few people walking about, busy with their heads down engrossed in their phones or sheets of papers in their hands and he easily recognizes them as part of the crew from the lanyards that dangle around their neck. A pretty, pastel coloured thing that easily catches his eye against the mostly all black uniform they sport.

He walks for a bit, almost as if entranced by the muffled songs and distant cheers that echo all around him until he comes across the hallway leading to the artist waiting room. It’s much busier and noisier, people scuttling in and out with multiple voices giving orders, updates, laughing, calling out for others in Korean and…is that singing?

The more Jimin listens, the more he picks out the melodic flow of a scale being sung, ranging from high, airy lilting tones to much more deep and richer timbres. He recognizes the tunes, songs you play when you study, get ready for the morning or unconsciously hum under your breath — songs that have grown on him.

Gradually, the singing becomes louder and suddenly Jimin sees an entourage of people exiting out of a room all at once. He instinctively side steps back until he’s concealed by the shadows offered by a large pillar, continuing to watch the scene unfold in front of him that way.

They stand out amongst the many staff members crowding them and not just because they’re dressed in absurdly black sparkly suits. Hair immaculately styled and complexion as pore-less as porcelain, Jung Hoseok, otherwise known as J-Hope, strolls out adjusting his headset before brushing his hands down on his jacket, straightening it out as a woman dabs finishing powder delicately on the tip of his nose. Quick to follow is Kim Taehyung, or V, still doing vocal warm-ups as he comes to stand beside the older member to wait for the others. They’re strikingly handsome in their own distinct ways, Hoseok with his high cheekbones and swooping nose bridge that makes for an arresting side profile while Taehyung with a round face tapering down to a strong jawline and near symmetrical features makes for a face that seems too unreal to be true.

A small part of him is aware that he shouldn’t be lingering like this because the unspoken rule is that a demon should never confront or even come into close proximity of the one they’re masquerading as for very obvious reasons. It’s risky and puts him in danger but there’s a morbid curiousity that’s gnawing at him, compelling him to stay and it’s not long before he sees him.

The owner of the sweet lilting voice that sounds much like his own, yet not at the same time.

Dressed much like his waiting members, BTS’ Park Jimin emerges from the artist waiting room, one hand shoved into his pants pocket, strides so languid and purposeful that one can mistaken the plain, industrial hallway to be a high fashion catwalk instead. He’s singing softly but puts emphasis on certain phrases to get the pitch right, sometimes repeating as if he’s not satisfied with the way it sounds. He’s practically glowing, hair a halo of rich honey blond, styled and coiffed to show his face which is made up of a myriad of contradictions — soft full cheeks are paired with a sharp jaw, full lips and slightly puffy eyes that can drown anyone with a sultry gaze; the perfect balance of lust and innocence.

As a demon, even he has to admit he’s impressed.

Hoseok makes a noise of appraisal, scanning the younger over and it makes a smile bloom, eyes scrunching until they disappear before he gives a light shove to the older man’s shoulder, giggling in clear embarrassment. A playfulness takes over the small group, conversation flowing easily with a few teases thrown here and there that anyone could see the strong familial bond the boys share amongst each other.

It’s so strange, he thinks, watching them as if through a looking glass with his eyes fixated on this person who’s very much real, living out a completely different life than his, beloved by all and equally admired by many.

Someone who you love.

That alone should ignite a jealous flame that consumes him, and yet the only one who he’s spiteful of is himself.

“Oh Jimin are those new earrings?” Taehyung says, reaching a finger out to brush the thin silver chains hanging from the small hoop they’ve been threaded through.

“Ah yeah, I wanted to try out a new style so I combined two of them.”

“They look good.”

Jimin preens at the compliment, a smug grin stretching across his lips as he shakes his head a little, making the earrings twinkle in the light. As his head lolls to one side, something catches his eye for a brief second, making him straighten at attention, smile faltering. The sudden shift startles his friend.

“Why? What’s up?” Taehyung asks, eyes impossibly wide as they flit from Jimin’s face to where his friend’s gaze is trained.

The blond blinks, mouth parted to speak but finds trouble in trying to describe what he saw out of the corner of his eyes. “I— Just now, I thought I saw a person….by the pillar there. But…I couldn’t really tell.”

Boldly, Taehyung takes steps around so that he could get a better angle of the pillar but remain at a safe distance, leaning his weight fully to one side in hopes of catching whatever it is that Jimin thinks he saw, but all there is is just a shadow being cast.

“There’s nothing there Jimin-ah… Maybe you were imagining it? Are you that nervous?”

 “No I’m not!” Jimin punches Taehyung lightly, the gibe taking the edge off a little but just to give himself his own peace of mind, Jimin takes a look as well, finding nothing in the space behind. He doesn’t know what to make of it however, he’s not given the time to mull over it because the rest of his group mates show up and they finally start heading to the stage lift, their eagerness and seemingly boundless energy carries him away, reminding him of other more important matters at hand.

Admittedly though, he can’t help but still feel a little in disbelief over it because he could’ve sworn there was someone watching him.

The show gets under way splendidly, the level of excitement palpable even from where he’s hidden. During that time, the demon has made his way to a spot right at the corner under the catwalk, the low lighting and barricade helps in making it easier for him to blend in as the silhouettes of the security guards posted around the perimeter, rarely having to conceal himself using his powers. Jimin has spotted you a couple of times, your figure peeking in between others and every time he sees you, you’re having the time of your life. The ever-changing spotlights cast pretty colours on you, dancing over your face and making the smile you had seem to radiate even more.

He finds himself caught up in watching you rather than the amazing performance thousands of other people have their eyes fixated on.

The only time he stops is when you push yourself through the crowd in order to get a better view of the idol he’s impersonating. It’s hard not to when the young man does such a brilliant job at commanding the stage, filling it up in spite of performing alone. He watches on, fascinated yet unable to for long as it only stirs up complicated feelings at having to face what he so painfully lacks.

You on the other hand, are completely enraptured; eyes focused and trying to drink in the image of him as much as they can but past the open awe and adoration, Jimin picks up on something that he can’t quite seem to place — something he can only describe as melancholy, like you’re already starting to miss the idol despite him being right in front of you. He doesn’t understand why.

As the music switches up, so does the mood as the hype level rises astronomically. The band members have the whole arena up on their feet, jumping, dancing and singing (or screaming?) to the lyrics. The atmosphere is hot and in more ways than one, with all the lights and the numerous bodies moving in one mass. Jimin swears everyone has worked up a sheen of sweat, even himself who’s yet to really move a muscle. At one point, he had actually snuck a water bottle for a drink, the growing humidity almost suffocating.

He tries to focus in on his heartbeat which seems to beat in sync to the heavy bass but the flashing lights and loud cheers make it hard, his senses bombarded. It takes a while before eventually the staccato thrumming in his chest slows until it doesn’t feel like it would burst through his ribs. It tapers off to a much steadier rhythm, almost as if he were deep in sleep.

But then it continues to slow even further.

Alarmed, Jimin’s hand flies up to press against the spot in search of a pulse, breath suddenly coming out short to find that he can barely feel it there. For a moment, he’s confused until a chill runs through him that makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand. His immediate reaction is to look for you, eyes searching frantically in the crowd. It frustratingly takes a while as he realizes he’s lost you a bit but eventually he finds you and what he sees makes his stomach drop.

You’re slightly hunched over like you’re fighting to keep yourself upright on weak knees, standing out so clearly amongst the sea of moving bodies. When you manage to straighten yourself, he catches sight of your flushed cheeks and heaving chest, the sheen of sweat reflecting off of the strobing light and not helping with your feverish look.

And then your eyes roll back and you’re tipping over.

His mouth falls open and the shout that slips past falls on deaf ears, smothered by the music and incessant screaming. Jimin’s reaching out before he could even think about the risk of being found, his panic driving him as he sees you being swallowed by the crowd, the bodies intermingling and threatening to close in around you and make him lose sight of you. It all seems to be happening in slow motion, but what he doesn’t realize is that he’s the one who’s causing the time distortion, his desperation manifested.

In those long seconds, JImin moves purely on instincts, teleporting himself in short bursts to reach you and soon as he feels his hand close around your wrist, he apparates the both of you with every ounce of magic he can summon.

There’s a whistling of air in his ears and the next second, he’s crash landing against a brick wall. His back hits it hard, crumpling to the ground instantly and he lets out a low groan, teeth gritting as his eyes screws shut at the pounding in his head. Everything aches, his body screaming at him from the strain but the only thing Jimin cares about is the fact that he’s managed to take most of the brunt force of his sloppy landing from you who’s safely cradled in his arms.

Fighting through the pain, he immediately directs his attention down at you, blinking away the black spots in his vision hastily.

“Hey…!” Jimin calls out, voice gravelly and still breathless. He shoves down the mask covering his mouth, the first touch of cooler air a relief against his warm, damp skin and it feels like he’s properly breathing now. He cups a hand to your clammy cheek, not liking how the colour seems to have been drained from them as he checks for a pulse, which thankfully is still strong. He brushes the hair away from your face, propping you up in a more comfortable position, softly murmuring words of encouragement even if you might not hear them.

Jimin’s not exactly sure if he should be doing something more drastic than simply hope that you would wake on your own but luckily he didn’t have to resort to such measures when he sees your lids begin to flutter. Slowly, your eyes slip open and though you’re clearly very out of it still, Jimin already feels the pressure on his chest alleviate.

“Y/N….? Hey Y/N, can you hear me?”

It takes a minute before the focus returns in your gaze a little more, but Jimin waits patiently. He takes the time to do a once over on you, noting that your complexion is gradually getting better and from the looks of it, you didn’t seem to sustain any external injuries, much to his relief.

“Ji…Jimin…?” Your voice comes out raw and cracked, drawing his attention at the first call of his name.

No, not yours.

His brows furrow as he pushes away the intrusive thought, his first priority being to make sure you were okay. Jimin uncaps the water bottle in his hoodie pocket, gently feeding it to you until you found your strength, taking and gulping down the rest at an impressive speed.

“Slow down cherub…”

At least you were resilient, he thinks.

The next few moments were spent letting you rest and recuperate. When you were more clear headed, he fills you in on how you ended up out here in the side alley of the arena however, what soon followed after wasn’t something that he had meant to happen.

Maybe it was partially his fault, not truly realizing how high his emotions ran but the way you had shot to your feet, legs only barely holding you up and your first thought was getting back to the arena as quickly as you can, completely disregarding the state you were in all for the sake of…what? Getting a glimpse of your idol? At what cost?

Whatever it was, he would not stand for your recklessness and blind loyalty to the point where you will endanger yourself.

But no matter how hard he tries, his words doesn’t reach you and the mounting frustration builds until it has the both of you screaming at each other.

“Can you just lay off?! I’m fine!”

“You can barely hold yourself up! I’m not letting you put yourself in danger!”

“I DON’T CARE!”

“Y/N LOOK AT ME!”

That was the last straw for Jimin, hands grasped on either of your shoulders as if he could shake some sense into you. You’re both panting, out of breath from the exertion but you’re finally looking at him. He takes in the way your pupils tremble, whether from fright or from nerves, and the way they shine as if with unshed tears.

Why?

There’s a desperation in them, so intense that it almost scares Jimin but no matter how much he gazes into your irises, the question still remains….

“Why….?”

He whispers unconsciously, the one word ringing loud between you, even above the echoing cheers. You don’t respond immediately, overtaken by a flurry of emotions that flit through your eyes so quickly that Jimin has trouble discerning them. Your mouth opens and closes a few times, sentences starting but dying before you can get the rest of the words trapped in your throat out until ultimately, you give up.

You turn away, eyes downcast as he hears you utter weakly, “Forget it…Please, you— you wouldn’t understand….”

He freezes, the statement seeming to pierce through him with a flooding of realizations; the images of you all starstruck as you watch Jimin, the idol, performing come rushing back to him so vividly it’s like he’s reliving it again. And it’s then that he is reminded of the fact —

It’s Jimin who dances with such poise and grace.

Jimin who sings with a voice that entrances thousands, millions.

Jimin who shines on stage, with a sweet smile, a gentle aura and a warm heart.

Not him.

No, he won’t ever be as good as the original Jimin. Especially not now, given how he’s not even sure what he is anymore.

He notices your hand clenching tightly at your side, how withdrawn you are from him and it’s made clear that he's not winning this fight – maybe even foolishly thinking he had that chance to begin with.

He steps back, away from you in resignation, acceptance. “You’re right…. I wouldn’t…”

With nothing more to say, you leave and he only watches until you disappear from his sights. Left to his thoughts, he retreats back into the dark of night, a place of comfort and familiarity.

Perhaps it’s better this way, to have you long for and love the image of idol Jimin, someone much more fitting to be a light in your life and for him to remain the shadow that follows you from afar. This way, you'll be much happier.

Even when, deep down, he wishes so selfishly for you to call him by his true name.

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itsuki-minamy · 4 years

Text

“SCEPTER 4 MENS DORMITORY GHOST STORY”

Translation: Naru-kun Raws: Ridia

In early summer, in Scepter 4's men's dorm, an annual sleepless night is about to begin. After all, this old building doesn't even have a refrigerator. In the heat season, any measure against heat stroke was encouraged, such as "taking appropriate amounts of water and salt."

Members continued to make a tearful effort, such as spraying water to cool down a bit, or putting ice water in the basin and plunging their feet into the water.

And there was a ghost story told at midnight in such an activity.

The narrator who was often in charge was Goto, who is familiar with the occult, and Enomoto, who is good at stories that scare people. Even today, Enomoto, who had a mysterious smile, told a ghost story about this bedroom in front of Hidaka and Goto.

"Isn't it strange in the first place?" Because don't you think this bedroom should be demolished and replaced with a new one?”

Hidaka, Fuse and Goto look at each other. Seeing no one open his mouth, Enomoto slowly concluded.

"I cannot. Then it will be worship.”

The president of the construction company that took over the demolition fell and was injured. A person from the general affairs department was hospitalized for a mysterious abdominal pain when he tried to continue the story, and when he tried to bring the bulldozer to the site, he suddenly fell apart.

To be honest, each episode is a story that has no other love at the level of "is it worship?", Enomoto is full of flavor.

“This bedroom has several old connections. Why…"

He tries to expand the story even further, at that time, an emergency call was made with a simultaneous notification, all four became law enforcement officers to protect the public from troublemakers, and went to change their clothes.

A week after that, Hidaka, who was off duty, slept until noon. The day before, he drank all night with his old friends from his school days after a long absence. Although the amount of alcohol was not that high, karaoke worked. He sings all the way until the store closed and kept making noise.

When he woke up, he still had a slight tiredness on his body. However, he feels refreshed because stress has been released. Hidaka gently gets up and leaves the room to take a shower. The temperature and humidity in the room were like a sauna, and he was sweating.

Through the outside window, the summer sun flows into the corridor so he can accidentally hold his hand. In a space where everything is tinged with white, Hidaka...

"Quiet."

So he thought. If he thought about it, everyone except him should be on guard duty. There is no one in this bedroom now. In the silence, he can't even hear a cicada's voice.

The door to the fourth room opened silently.

When the door to the room, which was supposed to be uninhabited, opened, a young man appeared. One person after another.

Another person.

And another.

Four people in total. They all have faces that he has never seen. Hidaka stopped moving like he was frozen.

Who are these guys?

Suspects?

However, they are wearing the Scepter 4 uniform. The four young men walked down the hall, chatting in harmony and touching their shoulders.

Curiously, their mouths move, but their voices are completely unknown. And they remained silent, disappearing as if to be confused with the summer light that flooded the corridors. Hidaka stood for a while.

Then, he finally realized that the things he witnessed were strange, and sat down.

His sweat was completely dry, and he spine hurts.

Hidaka was walking around the Scepter 4 facility very concerned that his brain had gone wrong. He wanted to find someone and tell them what he saw, so he would check his sanity.

When he approached the dojo, he realized that all the sliding doors were open.

"Who is...?"

When he approached, an unexpected person was standing in the center of the dojo.

Reisi Munakata.

The man on top of Scepter 4. Hidaka walked to the entrance, took off his shoes, and went up to the dojo. Munakata never looked at him.

"Hidaka-kun? Do you feel better about your hangover?”

He asks in a slightly smiling voice. Hidaka is a little scared.

"Oh, yes. Sorry. What are you doing here, Captain?”

In front of Munakata, several photo booths were lined up below the Shinto shrine in the dojo. And put a bouquet in front of that.

"Oh, this is..."

At that time, Hidaka noticed that some of the images in the photo frame had familiar faces.

Young people walking down the hall.

"This is…"

Munakata slowly says quietly.

"The former members of Scepter 4 who were killed in the Kagutsu incident."

Hidaka stiffened. He felt that everything fell in an instant.

"The old Scepter 4 has no direct relation to the current Scepter 4, except for Zenjo-san. Still, today, I am trying to express my sympathy as the person who will take care of the current Scepter 4. My own way.”

Today was the day the Kagutsu crater was created. And some of the Scepter 4 members, including Habari Jin, and tens of thousands of civilians lost their precious lives.

Forgetting such an important day, Hidaka was a little embarrassed because he was playing while he was off duty.

Quietly next to Munakata.

Hidaka said after a minute and opened his eyes.

With a compelling look,

"Captain, I now understand why that shabby bedroom has not been demolished. I'm sure there are a lot of thoughts from former Scepter 4 members out there, right?”

Hidaka had witnessed the illusion of his days.

Munakata was silent for a while.

"That's right."

Truth be told, Munakata decided it was best not to talk about it because there was simply no budget. Really,

"You understood, Hidaka-kun."

The two lined up and fell silent again.

At midnight that day, Scepter 4 members were changed when Munakata cleared the photo booth, showed it to no one, was not encouraged by anyone, and visited the dojo to keep quiet.

#k #k project #k stories #k fan clan #SCEPTER 4 #Hidaka Akira #reisi munakata

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silent-silver-slip · 3 years

Note

For the behind the scenes asks: 1, 4, 16, 18?

Me? Buzzing with excitement to respond to an ask? Always! Thank you for asking lovely. ♥️♥️♥️ I am somewhat sorry for such a long post, but I am incapable of writing small things it appears.

1. What was the first fandom and/or pairing that you wrote fic for?

Oh god, I think it was Harry Potter? I started out with original works before branching into fanfiction, so I’m not certain though.

4. Do you outline before you start writing? If so, how far do you stray from that outline?

This one’s a bit up in the air to be honest! Sometimes I outline and sometimes I don’t. Almost always, I never outline anything under like 5k, which is normally written with a basic idea that keeps growing. There are also a number of longer things that I’ve done before that didn’t really have an outline either (some of my novellas happened this way). However, a number of my longer works do get an outline - either beginning with one or I hit a roadblock and begin to sketch an outline out and then it ends up being massive and more than I expected.

Parts of my outline go into depth and parts don’t, so as a result I usually keep pretty close to it. Occasionally an extra scene or a side character will take over a bit, but usually it’s very very close which is nice and helpful.

16. What is your most underrated fic?

Oh no, decisions. [I then leave this question blank, and forget to come back to it...] Okay, so I went back and started going through my fics and I was in struggle town, let me tell you.

In the end, I picked up two main ones that I think are my most underrated ones?

There’s the broken bones of our childhood which is an HP fic and actually sparked a piece of writing that got published online in the AZE which is neat. And the other is Everybody Knows (the deal is rotten) which is a Naruto fic that’s based on Orpheus and Eurydice and their legend, but is about family instead. One of these I appreciate because of the meaning behind it and it’s writing style, and the other was a lot of fun to write and I’m pretty proud of it.

18. What is a line/scene you’re really proud of? Give us the DVD commentary for that scene.

Firstly, this assumes I remember anything I write and it doesn’t just vanish from my brain straight away. I barely know what I did yesterday, let alone an actual scene or line I wrote.

I’ve been staring at a few passages for a while, and this is awful I cannot make decisions. However! I figured I’d go with one that I haven’t mentioned in an ask response before and also isn’t too tricky to explain and comes with a good explanation? And fit my current mood I guess.

This scene comes from tonight’s our time which is a Naruto fic. It was a short fun piece to write and definitely related to something I felt back in summer. My comments are in italics.

And she reaches out, offering her hand, and Minato grips it, tight. Their hands are sweaty and gross, because of the weather and how it’s somehow still humid even as the sun sets, streaking the sky with pale purples and pinks and oranges. (Fuck yeah, I love the sunset! And the sunrise! The sky just looks so pretty almost all the time okay. But also - just the idea of people reaching out to each other even when it’s uncomfortable because they want to and they love each other regardless?)

The sky, however, is not what Kushina or Minato pay attention to. Rather, then launch forward, uncoordinated and laughing, towards where the sprinklers send water over the grass and pavement, turning it dark. (The idea of not paying attention to the sky because someone else is there and more important, more beautiful, definitely strikes a cord with me. And launching forward, laughing and unbalanced and just complete chaos? I can imagine it and it feels so good? Just letting go and- and I don’t even know, living, I suppose.)

They don’t go through the edges of the sprinkler, where the water’s a mist and light, they run through the worst of it, laughing and holding hands. Immediately, they’re soaked, clothes plastered to their skin as droplets of water run down their arms and faces and necks. Minato’s hair falls over his eyes whilst Kushina has flyaway strands finally pinned down, and she rubs a hand across her forehead, shoving them to the side so they stop irritating her. (Not gonna lie, this was partially me just working on descriptions, but hey. If it’s hot and humid and gross even at like 8.30pm, hell yeah I’m gonna run through the worst bit of the sprinkler if my friend wants too as well. That weather is gross and you’re dying, okay? Trust me on that one, it’s not fun. But, well, to meet up with a friend after so long, there’s not much I won’t do.)

Now out of the sprinkler, they turn. The weather no longer feels so hot and muggy. It’s cool and warm and the perfect temperature, even though their clothes have darkened with water and their hair will definitely turn fuzzy. (More description stuff.)

Looking at each other, they laugh, loud and wild and happy. This is, undoubtedly, what life is all about. Laughing and living, looking at each other and grinning. They’re adults but that doesn’t mean they have to leave childish acts behind them. (They’re just so happy!! They’re in their like twenties and they’re “adults” but they’re having such a fine time and they’re loving and happy and it’s just glorious. This is what we all deserve, okay? Around work and uni and life in general - we deserve to be happy and loving and loved in return, laughing and glorious and far frome alone.)

Because of the challenges I had figuring it out, there are a few of the ones I was tossing up beneath the line.

My favourite bits are in bold.

Scene from i don’t believe that love was made to break:

“Hey look,” Reggie says, “the sun’s rising.” And it is, painting the sky with colour. The sun itself is a circle of orange and the lake is fractured by every golden ray, colours rippling across the water.

Yet not one of them watches it. Instead, they are caught by each other. How the sun makes them glow. How the light gentles their faces. How they smile at each other.

The day grows warmer, the sun goes higher, and they are trapped in a single moment, aware of the way they are pressed up against each other, the way they are happy, the way they are loving without reserve.

Scene from the sea isn’t yours but you’re still the sea’s which may or may not be an AU of my own AU:

Sometimes kindness is an innate part of us, sometimes it’s there regardless of whether or not we know it. Sometimes kindness is apologising and saying ‘What can I do to help?’ Sometimes kindness is helping when help isn’t wanted but needed anyway.

In one world, there would be an information network growing in the shadows, spreading further and further with no one aware of it but one boy. In another world, there is no information network growing, but something else grows instead—hands stretching out, faces looking down. Kindness shared is kindness that can be passed on. Small things can stack, one on top of the other, and sometimes they lead to massive changes that are unforeseen. When a boy extends his hand out to a homeless child, she reaches back cautiously, but their story will end in trust and loyalty, (always).

Scene from Wayfinders‘ epilogue:

“This is what it means to be human.” The words seem to shock everyone and Toru smiles as he watches heads turn to one another, muttered discussion growing once again. “It is human to fight when the odds are against you,” he says. “It is human to say ‘we will keep living’ when it seems impossible. It is human to find a way to survive when an army marches towards you.

“It is human to fight. Sometimes this is against another opponent in a test of strength and sometimes it is against grief that threatens to overwhelm you. Sometimes you fail. Sometimes you fall. Sometimes you bow your head and give up. But you are not alone. Someone will reach ask if you’re alright. Someone will gift you a kind word. Someone will reach out a hand. There will always be someone reaching out a hand.

“A new era is dawning,” Toru lifts his chin, looks not to everyone below but to the sun overhead, shining down. “A new era is dawning and it is not one of war. It is one of peace, of love, of acceptance. It is one of kindness, of family, of friendship.” He smiles. “I speak not only to my people now, but to all of you. Let us remember hope, in times of hardship. Let us remember kindness, in times of cruelty. And let us remember to reach out and lift one another up high for you are never alone.”

(There are so many things Toru wants to say. He wants to engrave the lessons he learnt into people’s skin. He wants them to know what he does, that kindness is not a flaw, that mercy is not a weakness. But they will only learn that in time. And they have the time. They have the opportunity. Toru will see that they have all the time in the world.)

(In the end, there is only one village that hears the words Toru does not say. One full of ghosts and laughing people. One full of refugees and fighters. One full of survivors and graves. Uzushio hears him and hears what he says with every word that escapes his lips.)

(The sea will never die.)

#ask #zazujoy #ask game response

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ts-unsolved · 4 years

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Final Wrap-up for Chapter One

((since chapter one will be coming to a close shortly and there is still an assortment of questions left over, here is a masterpost of responses to queries that couldn’t be addressed during the story!

[reminder: the ask box will be left open, however the characters are not available. please keep in mind that non-plot related questions will not be answered by the characters after this post.]

Anonymous said: ((Just wanted to tell you your drawings are so pretty and I love ur blog. That is all I have no braincells to ask questions))

Anonymous said: OKAY MOD I JUST WANT YOU TO KNOW I LOVE THIS AU SO MUCH AND ITS SO COOL AND GOOD AND YOUR ART IS TOO!! sorry for caps I’m just excited

Thank you! Sorry I didn’t always get around to answering asks like this, but for every one that was sent in, I appreciated it with all my heart. You guys are angels 💖

Anonymous said: What is one haunted location you guys would really like to visit someday?

Poveglia is definitely the highest on the list for the notoriety alone, although they would likely never get the permission to go (the history in general is almost excessively horrible and tragic, so nothing good would come out of doing an episode there. Maybe it’d be good as a final-chapter type location? 🤔).

@anxious-fander-bean said: Hey Logan, have you ever tried swing dancing? It's really fun and good excersize! There's also a lot of bouncing and upbeat music, so Patton might enjoy it as well! ((I'm doing it. I need the qpp boys to be happy and have fun, bc they deserve it.))

(LOGAN: I’ll...consider it.)

You did it, you got them to go on some good ol’ platonic dates! B)

Anonymous said: I feel bad that I don't have any deep question or something along those lines, but what's your favorite thing to bake, Pat? - 💐

That’s alright! Questions don’t have to be deep to be fun/interesting.

(PATTON: Cupcakes! You can make so many different flavors, and there are tons of fun ways to decorate them!)

@why-should-i-tell-youu2 said: Why cant anyone else see the seal?

You need to have The Sight to be able to see demon sigils. Patton has this ability naturally, and Dee has it because Elliott taught it to him. Otherwise, Virgil and Roman would be the closest in terms of gaining this ability, but a scared/skeptical part of them is holding them back.

Anonymous said: My good dorks, is there a way to, I don’t know, get a better/more effective charm for your office? One that costs more than $10? -🍁

Anonymous said: Hey, Logan, potential naturalistic explanation for ya: depending on what the charm was made of, shifts in ambient room temperature could have caused minuscule expansions and contractions in the material that would eventually crack the charm. Do I believe my own explanation? Absolutely not. Am I grasping at straws for a non-supernatural explanation? Absolutely. And ambient room temperature doesn’t even begin to explain the red symbol around the charm

(LOGAN: Our budgeting is already a mess as it is, the last thing we need is to waste more funds on decorations. And that theory seems much more reasonable than the contrary explanation.)

Anonymous said: Is the demon that Pavreen summoned the same demon that possessed Elliott?

Anonymous said: Welp Virge SUMMONED A DEMON- (Why do I have a feeling Remy was the demon that possessed Elliot-)

Nope, they’re all different demons! The demon that Parveen summoned is notoriously difficult to contact, so a bunch of teenagers wouldn’t have been able to do it. Likewise for Remy; you can only summon him once you have his True Name, and he’s already destroyed most references to that (sorry Patton).

Anonymous said: omg omg omg what part of mythology is remy part of???

He’s not from any particular mythology, but he is partly based off of Alps from German folklore and the general mythology around sleep paralysis!

Anonymous said: Can Patton see supernatural beings like ghosts and demons and stuff? I just think it would be interesting if his scars make him able to see them :3c

Anonymous said: If both Dee and Patton can see the sigil, and Dee can see ghosts, does that mean Pat can see ghosts too? With the whole red glowing thing (forgot what its called) it seems to be connected.

Yes he can see ghosts/demons, and you’re right that the scars (or rather the deal with the demon which gave him his powers and scars) are what lead to him being able to do it. The red is just a general indicator of something supernatural/not of our Realm.

Anonymous said: Wait so if Patton and his family all have that mark could that mean Patton is not completely human 👀 -🌈

I supposed you could say that Patton’s not entirely human because he’s a witch who was born without a soul, but he’d find that pretty offensive tbh.

Anonymous said: Are Elliott and Patton maybe related, even distantly? Also, roman needs to suck it up and have Feelings for the Snake Man

There’s no relation between Elliott and Patton. Elliott is the child of a seer and a psychic, Patton is the son of witches. They’re similar, but different. (Also you’re assuming that Roman hasn’t liked the Snake Man since high school, but considered him off-limits because he’s his brother’s best friend).

Anonymous said: Does Patton know that Dee can see spirits and does Dee know that Patton is protecting them all?

Anonymous said: Dee, pat, do you know that each other can see the sigil?

Anonymous said: is ... is patton a witch and dee a dee-mon and that's why they don't like each other.....?

Anonymous said: Pat what do you think about making deals with demons?

They’re both aware of each other’s secrets! Technically they’re both doing their best to protect everyone, but that doesn’t mean they agree with each other’s methods or bond over the shared responsibility.

Patton is indeed a witch, and Dee is a regular human who happened to summon a demon one time. Patton thinks Dee is the occult equivalent of a satanist, which he disagrees with because dark magic is unnatural/dangerous in his eyes (making deals with demons only leads to trouble!), and would prefer Dee not endanger his friends. Dee doesn’t like Patton because of his perceived moral superiority, and finds the way he can be so secretive and two-faced creepy

Regardless, they’re both sitting in glass houses and have more in common than they think.

Anonymous said: Patton Should Hug Dee *

Maybe. But he won’t. 8′D

Anonymous said: Since Dee has been able to see ghosts for a long time, was he an open believer in ghosts before Elliot died? Since it was mentioned that the reason he lies about his belief is because he knows that they're dangerous, he wouldn't have had a reason to hide it in the past. And if he did are any of the others aware of the belief change? Well, besides Remus. I'm guessing that one is pretty obvious.

He may have been more involved as a believer in the past, though that doesn’t mean he was ever super open about it. He was aware of how it would look like to outsiders (being genuinely skeptical at one point himself), so he wasn’t going to paint a target on his back by talking about ghosts and demons and things most people can’t see.

Of course, that didn’t stop people from stereotyping and making those sorts of assumptions about their friend group anyway, but no one besides them really knew about their secret-- not even Virgil.

Anonymous asked: What would happen if one time, the gang ended up getting something supernatural on camera?

The result of that would depend on the being. Ghosts can kinda appear on camera, although it’s very rare for them to appear as a full bodied apparition, which is why they usually only manifest in spirit orbs or light/shadows. Poltergeists are better since they’re able to interact with objects, but likewise since they can’t manifest into a physical form they can easily be brushed off. Demons and other miscellaneous creatures will straight up not appear if captured directly on film; you’ll simply get video glitches and distortions.

So essentially, they may technically have found something already, but capturing evidence that’s also compelling is a lot more difficult than you’d think. I imagine there’s a good chance that anything legitimate wouldn’t get taken too seriously because of how easy it is to fake evidence nowadays.

Anonymous said: Okay so a little bit of a rant but not really ig but imagine the ladylike and unsolved crossover for this AU like I can see it as like Thomas' friends dressing up Roman and Dee in style and seeing a blushing mess and maybe flirting going on because of how good the clothing complements each other but this is kinda a weak idea lol

It’s not a weak idea at it, it’s really cute! (though I may just have a soft spot for the Ladylike cast and crossovers).

The only thing to note is that I’ve chosen not to include Thomas’ friends in this AU because I personally weird about writing fiction about real people? (I was on the fence about including character!Thomas for a while too, tbh). So, apologies to anyone who’s sent similar asks or wanted to see any of Thomas’ friends; they wont be around!

Anonymous said: Did Dee and Remus ever have that talk Dee said he would try to have a while back????

They might have gotten the opportunity to chat back when Remus came back to help shoot the Room 1046 video. It wouldn’t have been a complete reconciliation by any means (dealing with years of baggage in one sitting is Hard), but now Remus is aware that Dee is open to discuss things again at some point in the future, so progress!

Anonymous said: wait wHAT?! When did he (Emile Picani) die?? Give us the deets oh wise one

Anonymous said: emile is... dead? what happened?

I see y’all, but unfortunately you’re not getting any answers from me just yet! You’ll have to wait until the next chapter~.

Anonymous said: Shit is about to go down and I am worried about the next ghost "adventure"

:) Don’t Worry About It.))

#OOC #((that should be all the big questions!#i'll update this later if anything comes up))

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jokertrap-ran · 4 years

Photo

[Stand My Heroes] 挽夏のミステリーブライド (Late summer Mystery Bride) Event Story: Part ② Translations

*Sutamai Master-list *MC name is retained default Izumi Rei *Scenario Writer: @eno_bara (榎戸乃ばら)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Special Stages

⋆⋅☆ Old Castle: Corridor ☆⋅⋆

Rei: Whoa…This is amazing. It’s really a Castle!

???: (――This girl! …Kiyo-san!?)

???: (…No, but that’s impossible!)

???: (Upon closer inspection, isn’t her face and body way thinner than Kiyo-san’s?)

???: (--But her aura does resemble her a little, somehow…)

Hinata: The air in here’s really cool.

???: (--What!? She’s bringing in one guy after another trailing after her!?)

Miyase: Ohh, so that’s why it feels as cool as a cooler in here!

???: (This man…the aura he gives off resembles that of a servant calling from the Kurodas, a family who I didn’t like even within our Social Circles.)

???: (They look as if they aren’t capable of hurting even a fly on the outside, but I hear that they’d do all sort of things in the shadows to protect their properties…)

Kirishima: …………

???: (…Hm?)

Kirishima: …………

???: (W-What’s with this guy with his odd hair colouring!?)

???: (Actually, is he— Is he looking at me?)

Miyase: …Kirishima-san? What’s wrong?

─────────────────────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

⋆⋅☆ Old Castle: Corridor ☆⋅⋆

Kirishima: …………

???: (…………)

Miyase: …Kirishima-san? What’s wrong?

Kirishima: Huh?

Miyase: You must be tired from driving. I apologise for leaving the wheel to you.

Kirishima: No, I’m not the least bit tired at all. Plus, I love driving!

???: (Am I just mistaken? Well, I suppose that there are always people out there with sharp senses.)

???: (So it’s not all that odd for there to be someone who can see me or feel my presence…)

Kujo: Don’t you all want to know more about this Castle before you wander off exploring?

???: (Hah? What would you know about me?)

─────────────────────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

⋆⋅☆ Old Castle: Study ☆⋅⋆

Kujo: His parents died early-on in his life and it seems like he, himself, died young, having taken his own life.

???: (Hey, hey…That’s really personal information right off the bat!)

Kirishima: …Did he die in this room?

???: (——！)

Kujo: How’d you guess that?

Kirishima: No, I just…had a feeling.

???: (I knew it. This guy…he can sense my presence!)

Kirishima: Please continue; tell us more.

Kujo: Apparently, the only thing he had written in his Suicide Note was “I’m bored”.

???: (It was something I wrote on a whim. But…it’s true.)

Kujo: For it he already had someone he had been enraptured with.

Shindo: But he had to let go of her— Was she the Wife of another?

???: (Urk! How dare you rub salt onto my wound like that!!)

Hinata: The person that held his interests might be the girl reflected in this Photo Album here.

???: (Wha-!? Hey, hands off! Don’t go casually opening my Kiyo-san Collection!!)

─────────────────────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

⋆⋅☆ Old Castle: Study ☆⋅⋆

Miyase: Wow, she’s pretty dazzling.

Kujo: She bears some resemblance to you.

???: (I know, right!?)

???: (--Wait, no! Now’s not the time for this! Don’t defile another’s treasure any further-!)

Shindo: It’s a little ironic that someone wealthy enough to own a Castle like this has to lower themselves down to the likes of a stalker who stockpiles photos of his target.

???: (Don’t defile it anymore!!)

Rei: Eek!

Kirishima: Rei!?

???: (Oh no! Kiyo-san- No, I’ve hurt her doppleganger!)

Rei: I’m fine.

???: (Thank goodness…)

Rei: Rather than that, what just happened just now?

Hinata: The Teacup moved on its own accord…?

???: (I unconsciously lost control of my emotions, but this works out just as well. I’ll chase these rude people out of here!)

???: (Maybe I should drop a tome or two?)

Rei: Eek-!!

Kaname: After the Teacup comes a book this time…?

Kujo: What’s going on in here?

???: (It was I who did it!)

Shindo: Perhaps it was due to the fault of the Construction Workers. The shelves could have been compromised by the renovations.

???: (I said I’m the one who did it!)

Kirishima: …………

Miyase: Anyway, wouldn’t it be better for you to change out of that, Rei-san?

Rei: Oh, right! I’ve brought a spare set of clothes, so I’ll just pop into the rooms to change.

???: (No, leave already…!)

Kujo: How about changing into an outfit fitting for a place like this if you’re going to have to change anyway?

Rei: Huh?

Kujo: I do think that it’s best to enjoy a trip to it’s fullest, no matter what twist and turns there may be along the way.

???: (Hah…!?)

─────────────────────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

⋆⋅☆ Old Castle: Corridor ☆⋅⋆

Rei: (I’ve ended up dressing in something pretty cute…)

Sliding my arms into the sleeves of a dress decorated with lace and ribbons with a retro-feel to it, I headed back out into the corridor.

Rei: (It feels as if I’m fitting right into the atmosphere of this castle, just by walking a little in this. I think I’m starting to feel it!)

Rei: (…Still, why did the Teacup move all of a sudden?)

???: --Oo? Now, doesn’t that suit you quite well?

Rei: What?

I turned around. Standing there was none other than—

Rei: Oh! Shindo-san! You changed too? That really suits you!

Shindo: You didn’t pin up your hair? There’s an accompanying flower peony pin to go along with this outfit, isn’t there?

Rei: Yes; there was one, but…I don’t know how to put it on. Wait, actually, how did you know?

Shindo: Because both that dress and the flower pin were both bought for her.

Rei: Her?

Shindo: …Although I didn’t manage to give them to her in the end.

Rei: Shindo-san?

Shindo: ……

Rei: ???

Shindo: --You do look alike afterall.

Rei: Huh? To whom?

Shindo: …………

Rei: (He seems to be acting a little odd…)

Shindo: …Let us proceed. I shall escort you back to the Study.

He extended out a hand in my direction, surprising me, for I never thought that he’d actually do something like that.

Rei: (Is he also trying to enjoy this entire experience too since it’s what’s “Happening” now?)

Rei: (Whatever the reason may be, it won’t do for me to turn down his kindness now that he has extended it.)

Rei: Thank you. Then, if you’d please.

Shindo: Your hand, if I may?

Rei: Okay.

Rei: (Eek……!)

I unwittingly flinched at the icy coldness of his skin as my fingers brushed against his. It caught me by surprise.

Shindo: What?

Rei: N-Nothing! I’ll be in your care!

I took his hand, as cold as ice, as we started walking.

Rei: (…Maybe the air-conditioning’s temperature was set too low?)

─────────────────────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

⋆⋅☆ Old Castle: Study ☆⋅⋆

Rei: I’ve returned. Sorry for making you all wait.

Kirishima: Oohh! You look real nice in that!

Kujo: It suits you really well.

Miyase: Truly. You do look utterly magnificent in a dress.

Hinata: …Cute.

Rei: !

Kaname: You really do say things like that as if it’s as natural as breathing.

Hinata: But you think so too, don’t you, Kana?

Kaname: Not really.

Kaname adverted his eyes from both Shion and I, decidedly lifting the teacup to his mouth.

Hinata: Are you hiding your mouth from sight because you just told a lie?

Kaname: Can you please not attach a reason to the actions of another as you please?

Hinata: You’re cute too, Kana. Just like Rei-san in a dress.

Kaname: Haa…Enough of that already.

Rei: Ahaha. It’s a little embarrassing, but I’ll take those words of praise in stride. Thank you.

Shindo: I don’t really care, but did you really lug that dress all that way here from the corridors?

Rei: !!

Shindo: ……? What? Don’t go making a face as if you’ve just seen a ghost.

Rei: S-Shindo-san?

Shindo: Do I look like someone else to you?

My breath hitched in my throat as I spun around to look behind me. Shindo should have been right behind me, having entered the room after he has escorted me here and opened the door for me.

Rei: …But he’s, not…

Shindo: Hey…?

Kaname: What’s wrong, big sis?

Rei: I came back here with Shindo-san, but…

Shindo: What?

Kirishima: He’s been here all this time, though.

Rei: He’s been here all along…?

─────────────────────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

⋆⋅☆ Old Castle: Study ☆⋅⋆

Goosebumps started to form on my skin. And I recalled how icy Shindo’s fingers had felt against my touch.

Rei: But I’m certain that I came back here together with Shindo-san and he had changed into another outfit as well…

Shindo: Did the heat get to you?

Kaname: I don’t think Kiyoshi-san would change outfits unless there’s a good reason for it.

Rei: (Come to think of it…)

I did think that he was “acting different from usual”.

Rei: (But then, that means that the person earlier was…)

Rei: A-Ahaha! Please don’t pull my leg like this, guys. I don’t like being scared like that.

Miyase: He’s really been here all along.

Kujo: I swear we’ve not schemed anything along the lines of remotely scaring you…

My nervous laugh quite literally froze on my face.

Rei: Then…Who was the Shindo-san who came here with me?

Kujo & Miyase: ……

Hinata & Kaname: ……

Kirishima: …………

─────────────────────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

⋆⋅☆ Old Castle: Corridor ☆⋅⋆

???: (It’s the first time I’ve assimilated the form of another, but now I see…)

???: (I couldn’t move the body as freely as I’d like when I escorted her, and my head was reverberating with a voice, buzzing around saying “money”.)

???: (Which means that there’s conflict between my will and the will of the person whose body I’ve assimilated since our thoughts and actions clash.)

???: But now I know, since I’ve gotten up-close to her. She’s…She really does resemble Kiyo-san.

???: …More, I wish to keep her by me.

???: I wish to know more about that girl.

─────────────────────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

⋆⋅☆ Old Castle: Study ☆⋅⋆

Rei: Then…Who was the Shindo-san who came here with me?

A heavy silence fell upon all of us as neither of us could come up with anything. –Just then, A sudden ringing sound pierced through the deathly silence.

Miyase: Is that someone’s phone?

Kirishima: Not mine.

Kaname: Not mine either.

Rei: Sorry…! It’s mine.

Checking my phone, I saw the Caller ID of “Yui Kotaro” flashing across it.

Rei: I’ll go pick it up. It might be a work-related call.

I placed my hand on the doorknob and pushed the door open.

Kirishima: Rei, wait a minu-

─────────────────────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

⋆⋅☆ Old Castle: Corridor ☆⋅⋆

Rei: (--Eh.)

I had only taken a single step outside. And I could see that night had already fallen from the corridors. The sound of the door shutting behind me echoed, but the sound of an incoming call had somehow died somewhere along the way.

I gulped and whirled around to re-open the door that I had just closed.

Rei: (It’s not opening! Why is it not opening…!?)

It didn’t budge an inch, no matter how much I pushed or pulled at it.

Rei: What’s going on…?

Rei: --Right, the phone call!

Rei: Yui-san…

I breathed a sigh of relief at the sound of the call connecting. It was almost as if it was my one connection to reality.

Yui: “—Izumi?”

Rei: (Thank the gods that he picked up…!)

Rei: Sorry for the sudden call, Yui-san! But I think I’m starting to hallucinate…

Yui: “You’re hallucinating…?”

Rei: Exactly! Like how I thought that I had been together with Shindo-san and how it’s suddenly night outside the moment I stepped out of the room and-!

Yui: “Calm down, Izumi…and……so,”

Rei: Yui-san?

Yui: “…Therefore………nd……ah…”

Rei: Um, you’re actually cutting off-

The line went flat with a beep.

Rei: ――!

I went into my contacts list and attempted to dial him again. What I heard on the other end of the line was-

“The phone number you’re dialling at this current moment in time is not in use”.

Rei: How is this possible!?

???: Izumi, don’t fear.

Rei: Eek…!

The voice that called out from behind sounded eerily familiar. Heart in my throat, I fearfully turned around…

Rei: Y-Yui-san…?

─────────────────────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

⋆⋅☆ Old Castle: Corridor ☆⋅⋆

Rei: (What’s Yui-san doing here? And dressed like that too…)

Yui: Izumi, I can’t stop myself from wishing to know more about you.

Saying as such, Yui(?) stepped a foot forwards and I, in turn, took a step backwards. My back met the door with an audible thud. He placed a hand on the side of my face, as if trying to ground my vision as my eyes darted left and right, seeking an escape path.

Rei: ……!

Yui: Tell me all about yourself.

Yui: Because for all sakes and purposes, I…

Yui: Because…I…

Yui: Ngh…

Rei: Yui…-san?

Yui: Ugh…Urk…Ngh—What’s with this guy’s mental state!?

Rei: Wha?

Yui: T-THIS GUY! HE WANTS TO KNOW YOUR BLOOD TYPE, HE WANT YOUR HAIR, YOUR CELLS, AMONG MANY OTHERS! HE’S TWISTED!!

Rei: Umm…?

Yui: Ugh…his thoughts are deafening!

Yui: The will of a living person is this strong!? All I want to do is to borrow this vessel for a little while!

Rei: Yui-san…?

Yui: Back up for a moment! This guy won’t work!

His pink hair wavered and then-- He disappeared from my sight in the blink of an eye; not a trace of him to be found.

Rei: ……Wha- what??

Rei: (This must be……a dream. I’m dreaming!)

Rei: (Maybe I collapsed the moment I exited the room back in the waking world?)

I pinched my arm, hard, to confirm my suspicions.

Rei: --Why? It hurts…

The ill-sinking feeling returned to my gut once more in full force as I heard a voice coming from the other side of the door that I had my back to.

???: Izumi-san? I wish to open these doors. May I?

Rei: (That’s Miyase-san’s voice!?)

Rei: F-Feel free!

I stepped backwards, putting enough space between myself and the door so that the door could open without issues. The heavy wooden doors creaked open slowly, revealing—

Miyase: Oh, I apologize. Please don’t look so frightened.

───⋅𝕿𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖓𝖊𝖝𝖙 𝖙𝖎𝖒𝖊…⋆⋅☆

#Stand My Heroes #スタンドマイヒーローズ #スタマイ #Sutamai #Translations #Otome #挽夏のミステリーブライド #Late summer Mystery Bride #Asagiri Tsukasa #Imaoji Shun #Kujo Soma #Yui Kotaro #Hinata Shion #Yamazaki Kaname #Miyase Go #Shindo Kiyoshi #Kirishima Koya

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