AlteredTundra

Edenridge

_{TIMESTAMP — Tuesday Morning July 20th, 2021 || After The Five Pieces of Charlie Decker
FT. — Jade Taylor, Mitena Strongbow, & Natalia Belmonte}

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A few minutes had passed since both Poppy and Key left right after each other and all Jade could think about was how she thought she was doing the right thing. Mitena was blaming herself and Jade thought she was doing right by her - and maybe by Charlie too - by telling her it was okay. She still held firm that Charlie’s sister, the one person not tethered to any of the pain, yet at the center of it, had nothing to apologize for. Why would she? She wasn’t to blame for any of the reactions. The anger, guilt, regret - that was all part of a life that was long before they knew Charlie had a sister.

And yet, unknowingly, the reactions she saw were a direct result of the past coming full speed into the present. Jade knew as soon as Mitena addressed him by the name Decky, that was it for him. And she wanted to follow, but what could she do in this situation? Poppy flat out said not to follow her and she didn’t keep her eyes on Key long enough to know where he ran off to.

As the blonde looked at the two girls across from her, for a moment the blue-green gaze that lacked the raccoon eyeshadow that was trademark to Jade at this point fell on Natalia. Among the entire thing, she had been quiet. She came to understand the Italian girl’s reason for being here more and more. A conversation yesterday that led to Jade finding her first step forward in forever. So what could she be thinking? What was on her mind?

“I’m sorry.” Jade finally mouthed after minutes of silence, leaning forward somewhat, reaching for one of the pieces of toast and buttered it with aimless motions. She didn’t realize it until she looked down and the one piece of bread had about a fourth of a stick of butter on it. She chuckled and then felt her throat tighten up. “I’m really sorry.. To both of you. I let my mouth go too far earlier. I assumed the wrong things. Pops wasn’t ready, Key wasn’t ready.” Jade wasn’t as ready as she thought…

She kept her eyes down, feeling them start to water and she smiled at her own pathetic state. “I don’t have any right to assume what they are ready for. How could I when I shut them out for a month because I wasn’t ready to face my own demons?”

Mitena watched the blonde silently for a moment. A lot had just happened and she really wasn’t fully sure what to make of it. Everything for them was still very raw, very fresh and very real. Tena herself didn’t exist in the scope of their vision twenty-four hours ago but there she was, the lost sister of their Charlie. She didn’t know what she was expecting from the group but she certainly wasn’t expecting this. It was obvious that all four of them had been completely and utterly shattered by her brother's darkest action and they were nowhere near recovered. Taking a deep breath, Tena reached out her hand across the table and placed it on Jade’s wrist.

“I don’t think any of us are ever truly ready. How can we be when we don’t know what the turn in the next corner holds?” She spoke softly but with assuredness behind her words. “You have nothing to be sorry for. Thank you for being honest with me and showing me a piece of your heart. It was very brave of you.” Mitena leaned back, aware of Jade’s space and hoping that she hadn't encroached upon it. She was always a tactile person and the last thing she wanted was to upset the blonde even further. “The others will find me whenever they want. My door will always be open to you all. You were his family, so that makes you mine.”

Feeling Tena’s hand touch her slender wrist, even though her eyes were watery as the blonde couldn’t hide the fact that her mind had just gone to a dark place, she met the same gaze that she remembered Charlie had in him before his light slowly faded. She hadn’t doubted it since before all hell broke loose, Jade knew she was without a doubt Charlie’s sister. It wasn’t just her eyes or that familiar skin tone or the dark locks. Charlie had a way about him. It was hidden under a bunch of insecurities and uncertainty, but his heart was always there. Jade heard and saw that in Mitena.

Taking a moment for herself to wipe away the tears that had formed, Jade half-laughed. “I’m not sure how brave it is,” she half-murmured. “But thank you, Tena.” She picked up that piece of bread with all the butter on it and took a big bite out of it. Her mind still felt heavy with so much of..everything, but she needed to eat something. Swallowing part of it, she once again looked at Natalia. She wanted to say something but the look in the former supreme’s eyes was very telling. Physically she was here, but Jade suspected her mind was elsewhere.

Tena watched the blonde's gaze fall upon her lover who had remained silent throughout the entire breakfast scene. Natalia had brought the native girl such joy and warm feeling in their brief whisper together and part of that was because Mitena felt like she had known the Italian girl her whole life despite only meeting the night before. That was thanks to Charlie and his words. In her brother's manuscript and letters he described her as a sensitive and thoughtful girl, carrying a weight beyond her means. Tena knew why Tal was lost in her own feelings, she knew that her Stargirl held a very important chapter of this book in her heart. Yet she also knew that the words in Natalia’s soul were hers and hers alone to share when and if she was ever ready.

Mitena drifted her hand behind the Italian girl, slipping her fingers beneath the pale beauty’s shirt and allowing them to softly dance upon her skin. Her mind wandered and she wondered what her brother might say to his heart pieces in a moment such as this. "May the stars carry your sadness away. May the flowers fill your heart with beauty. May hope forever wipe away your tears. And, above all, may silence make you strong.” Tena quoted as she thought perhaps Charlie would have. “Chief Dan George of Tsleil-Waututh Nation.” A bright smile crossed her round face and a small chuckle escaped her throat and lips. “I’m such a dork.”

Although her glassy eyes were locked on the table, Natalia could feel the eyes of both women around the table fixated on her. As much as she wanted to be comforted by Mitena’s touch and the heartfelt, beautiful words she had used in an attempt to soothe her soul, she felt the same old guilt and intrusive thoughts starting to weigh heavily on her shoulders once again. Did she even deserve to be here? Sure, she and Charlie had been fairly close for at least two years before his passing. But that was nothing compared to the life-long ties he had from growing up alongside Mordechai, Poppy and Jade. She had known him as the thoughtful, caring, perceptive Serpent with a dark humor, a love for books and a penchant for words; who carried the crushing weight of his family’s misfortune and the disdain of the town he called home on his shoulders. The others had known him as something beyond that: the person he was before calamity struck his life again again.

Sitting at this table-- surrounded by three of the people who knew Charlie best and listening to them voice so many personal questions or experiences while contributing nothing-- made the Belmonte girl uncomfortable. Witnessing their heartbreaking reactions made it even worse. By the time Tena was praising Jade for her bravery in opening up her heart, the panicked Natalia was desperately seeking a way out of being the next one expected to bare her soul.

“Maybe we can, um, change the subject or something…” she tentatively suggested, hoping the two women were just as emotionally exhausted with the scene that had just transpired as she was and would take her up on her offer.

Over the course of the time at the picnic table, Tena had been noting all of her new lover's looks and gazes. Every subtle movement of her hands and body. She wasn’t just uncomfortable; there was so much more to it and now she knew. Tena could read Tal’s face like it was an open book. It seemed obvious now. Beyond letters and novels and words on a piece of paper. The look in those starry eyes told Mitena everything she needed to know about Natalia and her brother, about how she felt and why she had been dancing precariously on the edge of a precipice ever since his name had come up. Natalia Belmonte, the other girl in the story, had been in love with Charlie Decker, the monster at the end of the book.

Tena could feel, through Natalia’s skin, a shift in her spirit. Throughout the evening, as their words danced around a feeling, through the night as their bodies merged into one, the tribal girl felt her Stargirl’s warmth radiate like a dying supernova into her very heart. Yet there in the cold light of day, where truths lay uncovered by the shade of night, Tal’s spirit had become bashful, quiet and afraid. She didn’t want to be there anymore and it all had to do with Charlie. This brother of hers, this phantom pain, he was long buried but it seemed that the anguish he caused had seeped into the very ground, into the very soil beneath their feet.

What’s the plan, Charlie Jay? What’s next in your story?

“Sure.” Mitena, despite the weight she carried in her own heart, wanted to be able to support Natalia, to support Jade and Mordechai and Poppy. The strength they had was used to get them here, now it was time for her to use her own to help them. “Sure.” She repeated before drying her eyes with the base of her thumb. At that moment, Tena realized how the end of this conversation would come. She realized that when it was all over, they would all go home together and she would be left alone with a wound in her soul reopened. The spirit would test her on this day. “So!” She masked her voice with a wave of joy. “What’s next? You want me to take you to the corral so you can check out and maybe ride some horses? You wanna hike the Pronghorn trail? Or maybe you wanna go to the casino or longhouse and get your early morning fucked up on?”

Natalia pursed her lips together, choosing not to respond right away as she felt another stab of guilt at Mitena's wounded response to her suggestion. Although they barely knew each other and she was actively trying to hide it, she could tell that changing the subject was not something that Tena wanted to do. And it’s not like she could blame her, either. If her brother had done what Charlie had and she was presented with the opportunity to get insight and answers straight from those who knew him best, you could bet that Tal would go to any lengths necessary to get the information she wanted. If anything, she admired Tena’s tact and patience on how she was approaching this whole thing, because she wouldn't have handled the situation with half of the grace Mitena had.

Her sympathy towards the other woman, however, didn't sway Natalia’s resistance to sharing that side of her life story. Talking about her mother’s illness, her goals, aspirations and other thought-provoking topics was one thing. Telling your new lover that the reason your paths came together in the first place was all because of a tangled mess of unaddressed romantic feelings between you and her deceased brother? That wasn’t something that needed to be addressed anytime soon… If at all.

But Tena deserved answers. She deserved to have that glimpse at her late brother's life. Even if Tal didn't disclose everything, she could at least offer her some comfort by telling her the same thing she'd told Jade the day before… On a different day, when she was ready.

“I'm sorry. I… I wasn't trying to be inconsiderate or an asshole when I asked to change the subject,” the Belmonte girl apologized to both women, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and uncomfortably looking away. "It's just… Talking about Charlie isn't something I like to do. Actually, talking about any kind of feelings isn't exactly something I'm a fan of, if I'm honest.” She blurted the explanation with an awkward chuckle, momentarily shifting her eyes to Jade and then back to Mitena. They could thank the influence of Tiziano Belmonte for that one. "But if you really want me to, maybe one day I could share some of the memories I have with him-- when I’m ready." She softly told the brunette, reaching out to wipe the girl's eyes with her thumb before using it to gently caress her cheek.

There it was again; that feeling, striking at Tena’s heart like a bolt of lightning sent down from the heavens by the Thunderbird itself. She leaned her warm face into Natalia’s palm and placed her own hand atop her Stargirl’s. This offcomer girl had stolen into her life like a thief in the dead of night and had cracked the safe that kept a hold of Mitena’s heart. She could tell just how uncomfortable all of this was making Tal and the raven-haired Indian girl didn’t want to keep poking the bear out of a deep fear of upsetting her. Yet her curiosity had not fully been satiated, not even close.

She didn’t want to be curious but there was so much left unsaid. There were so many unfinished songs in her book. The tribe had done much to raise Tena following her mothers death from cancer and as progressive as some members of the community were, there were still those that clung to the old ways. Both Mitena’s father and her long-lost brother were Craven. They were the unspoken dead that dare not be uttered even in whispers. There was so much of the songstress' past that was a mystery to her, and these strangers from another land might just hold the key to that box of secrets. The problem, it seemed, was that opening that box caused nothing but pain for everyone involved, and it seemed that that pain may not be something manageable.

“I would love to know everything.” Tena began as she cupped Natalia’s hand. “But I don’t want to bring you, any of you, any pain or suffering. More so than I already have. You got to have Charlie in your life, whatever that meant to you, and that is yours to share if and when you want. I’ve been waiting for my big brother for twenty years, I can wait a little longer.”

Looking between the two dark-haired women, Jade knew that somewhere in the glances she caught going between each other that there was an obvious deep connection between them. It was profound, and rivaled one that she herself was starting to find with Anya, her Pancake. It felt like it was something personal. Something that, if anyone knew (not like they were being subtle about it), it would be uncomfortable and awkward to talk about anything with them. Jade understood what that meant. When you found that person that connected you to the world, everything was different. Your outlook on the world was different.

The golden-haired Angel Princess backed her chair out a bit, and stood up. She knew this would alarm the both of them in some manner and Jade immediately put up a hand. “Don’t worry. I think I’m going to take a walk around.” She smiled at both of them, but centered her gaze on Natalia. She didn’t say anything, but it was a mutually-understanding, empathetic expression that should tell her everything she needed to know. “Maybe I’ll steal your suggestion and go to the casino for a bit.” Jade laughed, shooting Tena a wink.

Mitena smiled. She liked Jade. It seemed, at least to her, that behind the rough leather exterior and mad bad attitude, there was a heart made of gold; just like Charlie had said. She reminded the native siren of her bandmate Ryan. “Tell them I sent you and they’ll give you some credits on the house.” She reached out and took a hold of Jade’s hand and with a genuine smile, Tena mused. “Just don’t win too much or they’ll bury you in the desert with the rest of the white folk. Things do come to the Rez to get lost after all.”

Natalia could decipher without words what the very empathetic Jade was trying to convey. She understood the bond she and Mitena shared. There was no judgment of any kind coming from her. She was offering to give them their space. For that, the Italian girl was grateful yet guilty at the same time. She hadn’t wanted her actions to make Jade uncomfortable to the point of wanting to leave the room.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel weird.” Natalia apologized in earnest, thinking about how she’d said 'sorry' more in the last two days than she ever had in all her life. She knew it was the right thing to do and say, but it didn't make her any less fond of admitting potential fault.

Tena let go of Jade’s hand and then placed her own back onto her lap, ringing her fingers together as she did. “I think this whole thing has been weird. I don’t think that’s your fault, Tal. I mean, look at this situation. Feels like some angsty teen drama.” She tried to laugh. Maybe some levity would be enough to turn the page and continue the story. “We should pitch this to a network.”

Even with the heaviness from the topic of Charlie Decker still thickly hanging in the air, Natalia couldn’t help but snort at Mitena’s comment. If any movie producer or script writer became aware of the tragic history of Edenridge, there was no doubt in Tal’s mind that they’d become billionaires in no time. “With the amount of shit that’s happened in Edenridge in the past, the present and probably the future, they’d have enough source material to last for as many seasons as Supernatural did,” she joked with a chuckle, turning to Jade again. “Isn’t that right, Jade?”

Jade felt obligated to let this sudden burst of laughter that came deep from her gut that it made her entire upper body hurt, Jade did so with a smile wider than any that had come before it. God, why was she laughing so hard at that? “God if we’re comparing it to SPN, then we better not have some pandering ending with whoever our Dean and Castiel equivalents are.That shit made me so irate that I’m still refusing to acknowledge it as the true ending.” In that moment, Jade just let a small bit about one of her guiltiest guilty pleasures slip, yet she wasn’t hiding from it because why would she?. “Fuck, guess I just outed myself, but I can’t help it. Sam and Dean-- woof woof! And don’t even get me started on season 3 Ruby.” Katie Cassidy did a far better job than Genevieve Padalecki ever did and that was a fact. “But with all of the tragic crap that happens to our town, I’m willing to bet there would be enough for spinoffs and prequels. Even special episodes about what life would be like if the town wasn’t cursed. Now that would be a sight to see.”

Tena struggled to contain her laughter. This was her hope. Even if she learned nothing more about Charlie, seeing the smiles on the faces of Jade and her Stargirl was enough to fill her heart. She always remembered her mother cracking jokes and making people smile. She used to say laughter worked just as well as any medicine. Tena believed that was all a con for when her Mom was jabbing some poor kid with a needle at the clinic and was trying to keep them happy as she did. Now, the songstress wasn’t so sure. Now, she wondered, if laughter really was the best medicine to heal a heart?

“Just make sure when you sell the rights that a really hot indigenous girl gets cast to play me. Even if I’m only a guest star.”

Jade laughed again, blue-green eyes going from Tena, to Natalia, then back to the Native girl. “I’m sure that won’t be a problem. I have it on good authority you’ll make main cast member status by next season. Maybe even in the last couple of episodes.”

"Are you kidding me?” Natalia playfully raised her eyebrows at Jade, a smile dancing around the corners of her lips before turning to Mitena. “The casting agents will take one look at her pretty little face and those gorgeous brown eyes, and they'll send the rest of us packing." She commented with a genuine laugh, winking at Tena before tilting her chin up and momentarily pressing her lips to hers.

Encouraged by the way her lovely features lit up brighter than the sun outside, the Belmonte girl took the hand closest to her of Mitena’s and carried on with her words, her guarded demeanor softening up. "I know it might not seem that way, but I promise that you haven't upset me, caused me pain or suffering with anything you've said or done so far. Any feelings of that sort that I may be feeling are not your fault. All you've done since we met is treat me amazing, made me feel welcome and like I can trust you with anything-- I don't do that with just anyone. Just because I'm not ready to talk about things doesn't mean that I want to take it all back and forget about you. Shit, the whole reason I came to Blue Hill in the first place was because I wanted to get to know you. And now that we met, you couldn’t pay me to ever want to forget about you-- ever. That much I can promise you.”

Mitena had to fight back the tears again. Natalia’s words were filling her up, warming her body with a feeling of want. The kiss she stole from her lips sent a current of electricity to her spirit. She didn’t want Tal to go. She wanted her to stay at Blue Hill, be with her. Raising her head, glassy-eyed, Tena drifted her gaze between the two women as she held tightly onto the Italian’s hand. In appearance, the two girls couldn’t be more different. But in spirit and soul, it seemed they shared more than even they realized-- all of the outsiders did. Charlie tethered them in ways that Tena did not yet fully understand but hopefully in time, she would. Whenever the quartet decided it was time to go home, to a land that Tena’s ancestors once called theirs, she prayed to the Spirit that it wouldn’t be the last time she saw them. There was still so much of the story she hadn’t read yet.

“Thank you.” Mitena whispered as she wiped her eyes with her free hand. “Thank you all for coming and giving me this chance to glimpse into his world, your world.”

"Thank you for letting us give it to you, sweetheart.”

The subject of her brother needed to pass, for now. It seemed that Charlie hung over them like both a ray of sunlight and a cloud of darkness simultaneously. It seemed that the two wolves of his soul now walked amongst his heart pieces, waiting to be fed. Perhaps it was best to starve them for just a little longer?

Inhaling sharply, Tena let a wide smile across her face, allowing her natural beauty to penetrate the sadness. “So!” She began. “I don’t know when you guys have to get back but you should totally try and do a few things before you go.” Her eyes sailed towards the house in the direction where Mordechai had run and where Auntie Adora was likely listening in to their entire conversation. “Jade, maybe you might wanna take Mordechai to see the wildflowers? They’re just down the way. My Auntie Jenny used to say that they had healing powers. Just breathe them in, you know?”

It wasn’t that long ago that any form of PDA made Jade’s stomach turn like she was going to throw up, but in the same way that she could see Natalia had changed in just the span of one day spent at this majestic and mysterious reservation, Jade’s own views have been changed about watching others be happy and not be ashamed of it. Mitena was to Natalia how Pancake was to Jade. With the thought of her own, Jade could only smile.

And at the mention of the wildflowers, that smile turned into a small laugh. “I swear you must be psychic or something, because we are actually going there today.” The blonde briefly remembered the subject of the wildflowers and how she wanted to go there not just to have quality time spent with Key, but to help him and herself through this self-discovery journey she found herself in the middle of.

“I’m not psychic. I’ve just got some good medicine in the bank.” Mitena returned her full attention to Natalia and her face softened. “And what about you, Stargirl? What am I gonna do with you?”

Natalia's face broke into an actual smile, green eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief. "Oh, I don't know. I mean, I'm sure we can come up with something to do…" she replied to Mitena, keeping her tone casual so as not to make Jade uncomfortable again but discreetly squeezing the hand of Tena's that she was holding to convey the double meaning of her words to her new lover.

Tena returned Natalia’s mischievous smile with one of her own as she traced the back of Tal’s hand with her fingertip, slowly making her way up her befreckled arm. She briefly looked at the table where sat a bunch of untouched food. She’d have to apologize to Resi when she saw him next. Her cousin didn’t have a lot going for him outside of his food truck and she had specifically asked for a feast for the morning and her new friends. Forrest being Forrest, he gave her everything for free. Mitena couldn’t say she wasn’t famished but the look in her Stargirl’s eyes was making her hungry for something else.

“Look over there.” Mitena pointed to the open fields and dirt roads that led down to the Reservation. She looked at Jade and then back to Tal, sliding her hand around the alabaster-skinned form of her lover and planting a soft kiss behind the girl's ear as she stared out across the pasture. “This is my world. It’s yours too now, if you want it, both of you, all of you. You’ll always be welcome here.”

The indigenous singer’s doe eyes drifted to the window, to a spot behind Natalia’s head. Sitting perched on a tree branch was a solitary raven. To most, they would simply assume that the creature was scavenging for food and the large feast was an appealing sight to it. Tena locked eyes with the avian, staring into his dark eyes with her own. In her culture, the raven symbolizes creation, transformation, knowledge, prestige as well as the complexity of nature and the subtlety of truth. He is a symbol of the unknown, of the different ways one can see the world. The raven was the keeper of secrets, the truth sought for hidden in the feathers of his wings.

For a brief moment, Tena wondered if that Raven was Charlie; watching over the pieces of his heart as they searched for his secrets; as they searched for his truth.

Edenridge

_{TIMESTAMP — Tuesday, July 20th, 2021 - Morning || After The Afterglow
FT — Mikhial Zima, John O’Hara & Mary-Anne O’Hara}

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The air was heavy with a crippling anticipation that Mika could feel in his bones and in his soul. Between narrowly escaping many of the residents on Scott Street, who no doubt heard his truck leave the cul-de-sac portion of the gated community. If he wasn’t the talk of the neighborhood, then he’d be a little disappointed, but whatever the case, he went home to his apartment. As much as he would have loved to catch a few extra hours of sleep, that’d have to wait for later in the day. Because there was something else he had to take care of. Something that, among everything that happened in just the past 24 hours alone, seemed small but it was everything but.

Mika made a beeline for his mother’s apartment. After yesterday and after the tense meeting with Coach, something happened that neither Mika nor Mary were ready for when he told her what was happening. Since then, both had been mentally preparing themselves for what was happening shortly. Since yesterday she had been preparing the perfect breakfast. Mary-Anne couldn’t leave her apartment, but she could have Mika pick up some things.

And that’s what he did. Everything that she had told him to get. Mika had to go to a few places yesterday and again this morning. Most of the ingredients he could find at the Darling Farm and others he had to go into Boston to find. Eventually, he found everything and while Mika had been dealing with everything he was yesterday, especially with Cece, Danny, and then Anya, MAry was hard at work. Slaving over everything to make sure it was perfect.

Mika had been in his mother’s apartment for an hour now, the smell of everything from the beans, which had been baking in the oven since he arrived, the sausage and black pudding, which wasn’t something Mika was an exceptional fan of but it was a taste of simpler times and this was what that was all about.

As he sat on the couch, sounds from the kitchen, Mika felt his phone go off. He answered it. “Yeah?” It was one of the Fallen Angel prospects who were on guard duty at the entrance of Lost Souls. They told him that his guest was there. “Alright, I’ll be there in a few.”

Standing up, Mika looked over at his mother. “Be back in a few, mom. He’s here.”

“Okie Doke!” She replied with a cheerful tone.

Mika knew what that meant. Outside she was all smiles and optimism overload, but inside, she was almost boiling over with anxiety. Like mother like son, huh?

In a matter of minutes, Mika had made it to ground level, and as he walked towards the entrance, there he saw him, standing in the entrance, two Angels keeping him at bay. This was the moment that yesterday’s game settled. Mika couldn’t tell if Coach was as nervous as he was or if Mika was hoping he was so it wouldn’t be as painfully awkward. He had no idea of knowing how this would go only that it was happening and there was no turning back now. “You’re early, Coach. But you never did like to make anyone wait.” Mika laughed, giving the two young Angels a nod as they stepped aside, letting John O’Hara through.

“Well like my Daddy used to say, it’s always better to be early than late.” Coach passes the biker goons to reach his former player, student….nephew. There was a lot to unpack there and hopefully that particular bag would be empty by the end of the following meeting. Lord knew that John O’Hara didn’t need any more stress right now.

Fear was something that the Coach had tried to force out of his life at every turn. As a young boy, John O’Hara was fearless, brazen even. Then he spent a summer at Camp Eden and everything changed. The noose around his neck, the scar of which was still visible was a constant reminder of fear. The letters flying around town, painting his David’s name with a new brush, that caused fear. When he stretched every morning and felt the wound on his stomach from Charlie Decker’s shotgun burn like hell, that instilled fear. John hearing Jamie weep for hours every night? Yeah that brought fear into his life too. The pair of big bastards trying to stop him from meeting the sister that left him behind? That was easy.

John had opted for a civilian attire on this bright morning, a rarity for the Celtic coach. He lived and breathed for that team but today wasn’t about that, today was about being an O’Hara: so a t-shirt and jeans would suffice instead of a team branded windbreaker and khakis. With his hands on his hips. John looked up at the building that stood before him, the Lost Souls. “You know I remember when this place was just a field of grass? I hope there’s an elevator in here because my legs ain’t what they used to be.” It was pure banter as everyone knew that Coach O’Hara’s fitness regime was insane for a man of his age. “Lead the way, kiddo.”

Mika let out an involuntary chuckle at Coach’s elevator comment. The trek inside Lost Souls felt like a short one. Uncle and nephew spent most of it talking. Talking about Mary. About the state of basketball and what chances the Celtics had this season, but when they ran out of things to talk about, when they were halfway up to the top floor, silence claimed them. It became apparent to Mika and somewhere in his mind, he wondered if the same had became the same for Coach…Uncle John, that when the high of their mutual love for the sport faded, there was still an intense awkwardness that lingered int he air and had been left there since the shooting. Everything between that and David, Mika felt the knot in his stomach increase.

And when they got to his mother’s apartment, Mika stopped in front of the door. He didn’t knock and only hesitated because…well he didn’t know what to call it. It wasn’t dread, but rather a deep apprehension for his mother. But he knew he had to swallow it. Well here goes nothing.

Knock knock! Knock knock!

As the door opened, the weight on Mika’s shoulders at that moment intensified. Mary answered with a smile, wearing an outfit that almost mirrored Coach’s: a T shirt that was green in color and dark blue jeans. She had her hair tied up in a somewhat loose single ponytail. As she smiled at both her big brother and son, she swallowed the high emotion in her heart.“John…” There was a tenseness in Mary-Anne’s voice, like she was forcing herself to speak lest her voice betray her. She wanted to say so much right now. So many things consumed her mind that it was crippling her ability to think straight. “I..Please come in.” She stepped to the side, doing the only thing she could stomach right now and that was to invite her brother inside her apartment.

“Mary.” John didn’t really know what to say as he entered the apartment at his sister's request. He looked upon her, aged but barely, she looked so much like their mother, a look that David and Jamie had both inherited with their combination of pale skin, thick lips and dark hair. John liked to think he had a good memory and one of his most cherished was the day that his mother and father brought home Mary Anne. She had the same hair as their father but she carried the hazel eyes of their mother. When he first held her, Mary Anne cried and cried and cried until he took her out into the garden in Scott Street. Gazing upon his younger sister, John couldn’t help but see his youngest child. The way they carried themselves, it was a mirror reflecting time. “You look well. Beautiful as always.”

It was a lot. Having her big brother - her protector - here. It was surreal because for so many years, before she came back to Edenridge (against her husband..ex-husband’s advice) she had dreamed of this moment. She entertained the moment they’d be able to stand opposite of each other. Be face to face again. Mary never imagined the first time after decades of not seeing her big brother would be on one of the worst days to curse her hometown. For nearly two years after that moment, Mary had almost lost hope of having a redo of that.

At least, that was until Mika came to her yesterday, telling her she would get exactly that. A redo. A second chance to build a new bridge to the one person who she felt she disappointed the most.

Smiling at him, she couldn’t control the waterfall that started to rain down her porcelain cheeks. She took a moment for herself, taking deep breaths like she had been practicing, and found herself in the middle of a half-laugh, half-wheezing fit. Emotions were so high already. “And you haven’t changed a bit.” She took another moment to look at her son. He stood beside John. At that moment, she swore she couldn’t tell them apart. Mika had his father’s eyes, of course, but she swore she was looking at her brother and the younger version of her brother with lighter hair and blue eyes. That alone was able to quell the pain of regret in her heart and fill it with a respite. “Well, I guess except for the lack of your favorite jersey.” Mary laughed again, memories of their childhood coming to the forefront of her mind. Remembering her big brother’s fondness for jerseys.

John was doing his best out of respect for Mika to try and work through his frustrations silently. He didn’t want the conversation to devolve into an argument and the doctors were already worried about his blood pressure. Now that she was there, standing before him, the Coach still felt a level of disdain and sadness gazing upon his younger sister. She had abandoned the family, the family that had given her everything her girl could desire and chose danger and a life unbecoming of a girl from Scott Street. He wanted to be open about it, he wanted to just support her in her decisions but John struggled to find that within himself that thought Mary rubbing off with Ivan was a good idea.

“I’m not allowed to wear it out of the house anymore, Lizzy says it makes me look like an old man trying to relive his youth.” All he could do was answer questions honestly and try to maintain a rational train of thought. He did promise that he would try, for Mika. “Smells amazing in here, full English just like dad used to make.” John commented. The patriarch of the clan O’Hara was a hard but fair man. Like John, Mary, David and Jamie, he was born, raised and died in that old house on Scott Street. He knew the pressures of the name, of their status and did what he could to equip his children with the tools to manage what it meant to be an O’Hara in Edenridge.

John took off his cap and stuffed it into the back of his pants pocket before looking around the obviously well lived-in apartment. Mary had obviously been in town for a while, hidden away from the world and the coach could only assume that was due in part to her wretch of a husband. Reaching out, Coach put his hands on Mika’s shoulder with a firm but comforting grip. “You okay son?”

The easy answer would to just say no, but for all he knew that could ruin what felt like a moment of peace between his mother and Coach. She seemed optimistic, as Mary-Anne O’Hara always had been. She liked to see the brighter side of things. At least, whenever Mika was around, she never seemed sad until the situation became so dire that she couldn’t fake it anymore. Mika looked at Coach, giving the older man a small nod. “Just tired. It’s been a long couple of days and I’ve barely had a chance to catch a proper night’s sleep.” He truly felt exhausted in more ways than just sleep. Mentally done because of…everything that he’s had to tackle in just the past twenty-four hours.

Mary looked between the two. She knew her Mika and knew there was something he wasn’t saying. Showing concern on her face, she turned her attention to her brother. “Ah yes, well when Mika told me yesterday that..well this was happening, I wanted to make it special…” Mary was trying so desperately to not fall into those old habits of hers. She wasn’t so removed from reality to acknowledge the truth of the matter and that was between her and John, there was a lot to unpack. She knew she had to choose her words carefully and tread with care so she didn’t bring up a wound that was not ready to be healed. “I hope I made the beans just like daddy used to make them. It’s been a long time since I attempted it.”

“You can’t really go wrong with beans, Mary-Anne. You stick them in a pan for a few minutes…” Coach stopped himself, realizing the sharpness of his words. He was trying to hold off on his anger and really push forward, for Mika. There had been such space between him and his sister, such a black hole of gravity that even looking at her now, despite her looking the same as she always had, John struggled to see his baby sibling. “Sorry.” The Coach placed his hands upon his hips and glanced over at his nephew again. He needed to keep in his heart why he was doing this in the first place. Lizette had been oh so supporting of this endeavor and Jamie, well he just didn’t know. She seemed happy for John to rekindle his relationship with god sister but something in her eyes, the same eyes she shared with Mary-Anne, something was off. “You know he’s a good boy, hard headed but a good boy.”

“Like someone else I know.” She smiled sweetly at her big brother. It was true, Mika and Johnny were essentially the same. She didn’t know everything that went on in her son’s life. He tried to tell her as much as he could, that much she knew, but he was his own man with his own life. Plus it was safer for her, or at least that’s what she told herself. She understood that certain dangers would come her way if she didn’t keep to this apartment. Mika, her baby, was carrying such a load of that alone and his father. Both of the men in this apartment carried such weights and both seemed to keep it bottled up to a point.

Mary-Anne stepped towards the kitchen, giving the finishing touches to the assortment of food. The silence had caught the air around them and it was about a minute before Mary-Anne opted to do something about it. “Mika!” She turned around, facing her son. It took him a few seconds to look her way, so clear that Johnny was right about something being off. “You want to help set up the table?” She asked him, looking at Johnny’s way too. “Maybe you can help him? It’s almost done.”

He exchanged a glance with his uncle. Not sure what really to say at this moment. Exhaustion aside, Mika had been stuck in his head for a few minutes now. As he tried not to think about it, being here with Coach and his mother, he couldn’t help but think about when he had gone to New York just a couple of years ago. The first time since he was sent away, he saw his father and had a meal with him. Maybe it was the weight of everything that happened yesterday, but as Mika walked silently over to the cupboards to the left of the oven, he grabbed three plates, three knives (worn out as they were, they did their job), and three forks. Right over a bit more to the left was a small table. It wasn't much but it was something. Three chairs because usually it was Mika, but when Boa came around last month sometime, Mika bought another chair.

“Sorry it’s not much. I’ve been meaning to buy her a new table, so it seemed more like a home.” He said in a low but audible tone to Coach as he handed him a plate.

“We can’t all be born on Scott Street, Mika” It was a loaded sentence. John hated seeing his sister living in a place like this though he was aware of the fact it was her choice. He was under no illusion of his own wealth either and had tried his hardest not to be the type of man that flaunted it. The house high in the hill in Scott Street where he raised his children, where he lives now, it was the same house his father lived in, the same one his grandfather lived in. And it was most definitely the same one Mary-Anne grew up in. Despite the modern decor of most, Scott Street was one of the oldest territories in Edenridge and its homes built specifically for Foundlings, though few remained in their ancestral estate in the present day.

John helped Mika set the table and although he was enjoying himself, if that was the right word, there was still palpable tension in the air. Mary had abandoned them all. Chosen a life that twisted her into knots, put the family at risk and now here she was, crawling back and hoping that everything could go back to the way it was more than twenty years ago? The big brother in him wanted to let the past lie dead. The father in him wanted to tell her to turn the other way and not look back. He already lost one child and the other was an Angel dancing precariously on a pinhead.

“It’s never about money kiddo, no matter how much you have. Home is where you leave your heart.”

Coach gave Mika a lot to digest, but even as he thought about it himself, he thought about his mother. No matter how dark things were, she never forgot where her home was. Mika was too young to understand when she would talk about her hometown, but now he understood exactly what she was telling him. He glanced at Coach, almost giving his uncle a small smile. “Maybe you’re right, Coach…Uncle John. Maybe that’s why she couldn’t stay away any longer. It’s like you said, no amount of wealth could strip away where home was.”

Mika was looking at his mother now, who was making the final touches to the pots and pans that had the array of food on them, getting them ready to serve. One day, Mika hoped they could all sit around a table with all of them: Aunt Liz, Jamie, his mother, his sisters…Maybe a lot to ask for, given the state of his life and the ever present danger of The Devil lurking on every corner, but it was something Mika yearned for desperately.

Like he was on queue or she was psychic, Mary-Anne clapped her hands in a rather loud way, grinning so much that she was hoping they didn’t see the level of exhaustion on her face. “It’s finally done!” In a way, that was a weight lifted off of her shoulders. She spent an entire day making sure everything was perfect and as she glanced at it all, the eggs, the sausages, black pudding, beans, and toast -- it brought her back to home. Growing up as the youngest O’Hara, sometimes in the shadow that Johnny cast, so many complicated feelings were tied to her memories of her younger years but what balanced everything (and more importantly made this moment possible) were the days spent around the table, eating good food that their father made and perfected and being happy and thankful by just being surrounded by family.

It wasn’t perfect yet. It wasn’t even close to being like it was then. Mary-Anne had no illusion that it ever would be, but this was the first step in making that possible. Maybe next time her girls could meet their uncle. Maybe even they could be out in her hometown without any worry of being in danger.

John took his seat at the table, opposite his sister and next to his nephew. Things were changing. As he looked upon the family he thought forgotten, the Coach couldn’t help but think of the family he still had. His mind drifted to his children; his son, God his son, every rain drop that fell the previous day during the storm could not fill the space left in his heart that belonged to David. Jamie, his dearest Jamie; named for his and Mary-Anne’s father James. She was so gentle, so fragile, so filled with a desperate need to love and be loved. He could see the sparkle in Mika’s eyes; the hope that the O’Hara’s could be whole again. John knew that could never be true.

But breakfast was a start.

𝘿𝙀𝙎𝘾𝙀𝙉𝙎𝙄𝙊𝙉 ⌜ᴀ ɢᴏᴅ ʀᴏʟᴇᴘʟᴀʏ⌟

𝓫 𝓮 𝓪 𝓬 𝓱 𝓼 𝓲 𝓭 𝓮 𝓽 𝓱 𝓮 𝓻 𝓪 𝓹 𝔂
𝓫 𝓮 𝓪 𝓬 𝓱 𝓼 𝓲 𝓭 𝓮 𝓽 𝓱 𝓮 𝓻 𝓪 𝓹 𝔂

^{𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗺𝗽 — Late night
𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 — Beach - Near Poseidon's Waterfront home
𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬: Poseidon @metanoia || Phobos @Danvers
𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 — Athena || Hades || Zeus}

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Compared to the morning and afternoon that the God of the Sea had, the rest of the day proved to be an unfortunate series of events. It was after he returned home from spending a few hours with his old friend, Jormaangandr did Poseidon return home. It was then he received a personal visit from his niece, Athena. Not an unusual visit. Even in the days pre-fall, Poseidon never did have anything against his niece nor she against him. At most, they were at a neutral position and at least, mutual respect was between them. It was through that mutual respect when she told him.

His brothers children, Zagreus and Macaria, were dead. Slain by a weapon. She didn’t elaborate and Poseidon did not inquire further. He was not part of the team on the case, so it was not his place to ask for further details. Regardless, it was the fact that his brother had lost two children. His brother and his wife, Persephone, whom Poseidon felt pain for when Hades took her as his wife. Not pain for her but pain for her mother. This all grew more and more complicated for the God of the Sea because he had not been on the best of terms with Hades in a very long time. Long before Olympus. They both seemed to be screwed out of what was rightfully theirs: the head of the table, as it were. To be King of Atlantis.

But that was a long time ago. Poseidon, near the end of what he didn’t know was their last days of divinity, Poseidon grew weary of Olympus. Those last “days” were more like decades and decades spent in the ocean.

Much like it was now. Poseidon was back at the beach near his house. It was night, so completely opposite of what his day started out, yet as he gazed upon the moonlit sky that reflected off of the water, he had to wonder: should he reach out to Hades? In all of the time that passed between them, Poseidon regretted never reaching out sooner.

As he pulled out his phone, oddly he had his brother’s number. He kept his thoughtful gaze on the contact info. Just as he was about to hit the green phone, Poseidon heard a sound. A man grunting and falling forward about five paces to his right. The smell of expensive alcohol filled his senses and a shaggy mess of dark locks that Poseidon could see thanks to the glorious light of the moon. “Hey, are you okay--” As Poseidon approached, thinking the man was a stranger, he wanted to help, but realizing who it was stopped him in his tracks momentarily.

“Phobos? Is that you?” In that moment, Poseidon still did what he originally planned on but with the knowledge that it was his great-nephew, he handled it with care. He didn’t touch the son of war, but he’d still kneel next to him. As the God of the Sea was on one knee, he simply asked, “Is everything okay? How can I help?”

Phobos looked up at the sound of a soft voice, his eyebrows furrowing as he tried to figure out if there were really two of the well-dressed man. He came to the conclusion that there probably was not. "You're not grandfather." He let out a low humorless laugh before stumbling to his feet, intent on continuing his slow progress towards the gently lapping waves. Even through the haze of intoxication, which was impressive as it took gods large quantities of alcohol to get more than a little tipsy, he could feel the uncontrolled fear radiating away from him. It had been for this reason that he was on the beach alone, any mortal who had even come close struck by a deep seated feeling of uncertainty and panic. No, humans did not sit well with fear, they never had.

"Grandfather…" He slurred as he continued walking, talking seemingly to no-one at all. "I have some bad news. Your grandson Eros is an asshole." He shook his head, curls falling in his face though he did not seem to notice. "Though who are we kidding…I'm an asshole too." Phobos smirked at this admission. "Maybe Deimos had the right idea all along. We should never have left the battlefield, that's where we belonged and taking us away, well…" The god paused, perhaps lost in thought or perhaps he had lost his thought.

The God of the Sea could only look on as Phobos rambled on. Did he even know that it was Poseidon here? It didn’t seem like it, but Poseidon didn’t want to startle him. Whether it was Zeus he saw or Poseidon, what the sea God would do is just be there for his grandnephew in whatever way he could. “I’m sure that’s not true. You are not an asshole, Phobos.” Poseidon frowned, feeling as helpless as he’s been for most of his existence. Right now he could help Phobos, but he didn’t know how to. Yet. “Why don’t you walk me through what happened? What did Eros do?” He asked of the son of war. He hadn’t touched his grandnephew in any form of support. That might spook him.

"Eros?” The epitome of fear frowned, momentarily having forgotten he'd even been talking of the god of love. "Oh, him." A muscle in his jaw tensed at the returned thought of his brother. It was lucky for them both that he had taken himself away from Acropolis, yet the thought was sobering. Not sobering enough but still. Turning, he clamped his hands tightly atop Poseidon's shoulders, barely aware of how firm his grip was. "Tell me fine sir…" He paused for a moment, trying and failing to ease off on the fear. "What would you do if your brother was an interfering, pompous, egomaniacal excuse for a god?"

For a brief moment, the old Poseidon surfaced as he chuckled. It had been a long time since he had allowed himself to think of his brother Zeus as such. As much as he was certain Zeus may have possibly changed, a leopard cannot change its spots. A snake can shed its skin but it still slithers. And Zeus may profess to the heavens he used to command that he was different and better, but he would still be the self-righteous clown that threw fits and stuck his…lightning bolt into anything that moved.

“I know the type all too well.” Poseidon spoke with a corrected, level headedness as he suddenly felt his stomach toss and turn, like he had suddenly come under an unexplainable uneasiness. He looked at Phobos, trying to understand what was happening. His Grandnephew was the embodiment of fear. So this was his doing. But why? What was eating away at him so much?

Wincing but powering through it, Poseidon kept his gaze on Phobos. “I admit, I am not my old self. I have not been that person in so long, so I can’t tell you what he would have done. But, if such a person makes you feel so…agitated, distance yourself from that person. You may become labeled a coward, but to be near such a person would only further your ire, Phobos.” As he spoke, he could feel the uneasiness starting to quell, so that allowed him to think clearer and he couldn’t help but think about Zeus more. It wasn’t in a negative light per se. Poseidon could see Zeus wasn’t a total jackass. He was just… “My own brother is a plague on our kind, but I do love him despite all of his many…many faults. It’s hard to deal with someone like that when you are currently under the negative effects of their doing. Putting space between you and him is the best thing to allow a clear head to prevail.” Poseidon was drawing from his own experiences and how he handled Zeus. It was the best way he knew how to deal with the Almighty Asshole of Olympus, so perhaps Phobos could take it to heart.

Phobos listened to the advice, eyes glassy and unseeing, before offering a nonchalant shrug. "You're so silly. I'm not concerned about myself." He slung an arm around Poseidon's shoulders, drawing him closer as if he were about to impart some great and valuable secret. As if they had shared such back and forths many times before. They had not. "I'm worried about Mel..." He muttered softly, looking around for a moment, seemingly satisfied that the goddess was not going to just rise unbidden out of the sea. "She's moved into Acropolis y'know." A smirk crossed his face though he did not really find the situation funny and he stumbled for a moment, his purchase on Poseidon the only thing stopping him from falling.

Poseidon sat firm, being the pillar of support that Phobos so desperately needed right now. He must admit, though, hearing that Melinoe moved into Acropolis, the hilariously named party pad for Apollo and Hercules-led mansion, was partly amusing, given Melinoe was a child of Hades. A few times, Poseidon had attended his nephew’s party just to check it out. Poseidon himself often felt like he was still youthful at spirit. He could easily find his calling with those rambunctious younger Gods, but the fact was he preferred the tranquility of his waterfront home and the SS Atlantis. “Are you worried she won’t be well looked after by them?” The God of the Sea asked his grandnephew. “I know those at Acropolis are…of a different breed - at least, by my more relaxed measurements. But Hercules is not his father…for the most part. He is a good person with an even more admirable heart.” Poseidon spoke with confidence that Melinoe should be safe with the Acropolis residents. Apollo was at least more level-headed than Hercules sometimes, so perhaps he could ring in Hercules should he get too wild.

Phobos grunted in reply, having been momentarily distracted by searching through his coat pockets. Finally, he pulled out a small flask. "She doesn't need anyone to look after her…" He muttered sullenly, he could feel the edge of the alcohol wearing off and he didn't like it. "I…" He paused before taking a long swig, seemingly content in the knowledge that he was not going to imminently sober up. A couple had been wandering towards the beach from the road hand in hand, but as soon as they set foot on the sand a look of panic flashed across their faces and they quickly turned around. Phobos saw enough to glare after them before turning back to his companion. "I don't know." He finally admitted, unwilling or unable to admit how he really felt. "Whiskey?" The god added as an afterthought, holding the flask out towards Poseidon.

He nodded at his grandnephew, taking the flask in silent acceptance. While he was never a fan of whiskey because it was too harsh for his tastes. He much preferred the sweeter sensation of a spiced rum, but when in Seattle, you take what you can get. As he took a deep swig of it, he murmured as he swallowed. Surprised and pleasantly so, it was not so harsh. His nephew was certainly worse for wear, but his choice of whiskey was a good one. It went down smooth. Of course, there was still that aftertaste that burned worse than Hephaestus’ forge - but he did not mind it.

Actually, Poseidon took another, smaller swig of it before he handed it back to Fear. “You have a superb taste in whiskey, Phobos.” Poseidon felt the need to acknowledge that particular elephant in the room before he went for the slightly larger one. His eyes fell on the sea, feeling something stirring in it though without direct contact, he could not tell for certain. And it was clear Phobos’ effect on him remained. “I wish I could ease your pain. The most I can do is assure you that Melinoe, for everything I feel she might need at this time, perhaps you are right and she does not need someone to look after her, but having someone there for you even if you don’t think you need them is a comforting thought.” He turned to face Fear, placing a comforting hand on the nearest shoulder. “Hercules, Apollo, and all of those who live in Acropolis interchangeably will do for Melinoe what I promise to do for you. Phobos, my door is always open.” The God of the Sea spoke with as much sincerity in his voice as he could muster. “I am not Anubis, so I may not be able to help you in ways he can, but no matter what, my doors will always be open. All you need to do is follow the waves.” His gaze on his nephew was stern as he did not want Fear to assume it was for naught.

There it was again - a sense of something stirring in the sea, but Poseidon could not understand why it was calling to him now, of all times.

Poseidon's words were not familiar ones to the god. His own father had been intense and brutal on the battlefield, and this had not stopped after the fall. He expected more than Phobos was willing or Deimos was able to give. And in that moment, the earth-shaker showed him such kindness that Ares never had. His eyebrows furrowed, wanting to throw the words back at him but finally admitting defeat, let out a small sigh. "Thank you though I--" Phobos paused mid-thought, his gaze traveling to where the waves lapped against the sand. Rolling torrents of water flowed unceaselessly forward, nothing unusual...but something felt off.

His blue eyes narrowed, adrenaline coursing through his body and pulling his attention to the now. He would have moved forward to investigate if a sudden form had not begun to rise from the water. Tall and slight, but with well worked muscles, it came stepping onto the beach, a head of curly dark brown hair shaking back and forth akin to a dog after an unwelcome bath. Water droplets sprayed everywhere and it let out a loud laugh.

"Dude, that wave carried me so far out! Though I lost another board...Brad?" Triton paused to look around the empty beach, it slowly dawning on him that the beach was empty and Brad was nowhere to be seen. The former merman pouted, "Oh man, it happened again..." Had he really ended up swimming for so long? It had been so fun though. What a bummer.

Edenridge

_{TIMESTAMP — Flashback (December of 2019)
A few days after Badger, Boa, Bambi & A Baby}

____________________________________________________________________________________________________

It hadn’t even been a full week since Mika was last in New York. The last time he was here, he had come of his own volition. He had sought out Boa because of the months that went by since he had seen his brother and occasional fuck buddy (not so much anymore). He spent the night with him, Bambs, and little Viva. They lit the menorah in Danny’s honor and Mika had dinner with them, caught up on lost time, and spent the first night since before the shooting with his brother and in a state of temporary bliss.

But ever since that day, ever since he came back out here, there was a black cloud lingering over Honey Badger. This black cloud was cast before he left Brooklyn. It reached out to him.

Timestamp - Just hours leaving Boa and Bambi’s apartment - Brighton Beach

The day even before Mika had found where Boa had been staying since he left in August, Mika had received a text. The text was from Sergei. Sergei was one of Ivan’s most trusted bodyguards. What he did for the family was pretty much what being Ivan’s direct bodyguard implied: he protected Ivan and Ivan’s interests. Mika didn’t know an extensive amount of what that bastard did nor did he care to know, but Sergei had been around him for as long as he could remember.

Dyadya Sergei. Uncle Sergei.

Mika’s memories of Sergei were, for the most part, pleasant. Despite being around the cancer that was Ivan Zima, Sergei never was aggressive or treated him or his mother or his sisters like Ivan often did. So that’s why Mika wasn’t against meeting with Sergei at a playground in Brighton Beach.

The playground itself was as Mika remembered. So vibrant and colorful, like the core memories that came up as Mika sat down on a bench, looking through nostalgia glasses. The rare times in his life when Mika wasn’t always angry, he was here with his mother and the twins.

“After all this time, it still hasn’t changed.” Mika’s voice was full of fondness as he turned his head. The blonde Russian man, who was so clearly many years his senior, sat as he always did: hunched forward, elbows resting on his thighs, and a stern expression on his face.

“You and Boris used to play over there all the time--” Sergei pointed his head at the jungle gym. “You’d climb to the top and Boris would follow. He always followed you, Mikhail.”

Mika chuckled. “And what did that get him? He fell and cracked a rib.”

Sergei laughed even harder. It came from deep within the older Russian man. “Boris is strong. Like his mother. He survived. No regrets. He never had any when he was with you.” Sergei laughed again. “He misses you. Denis too. They wish you didn’t move.”

And here it was. Mika should have expected it, but Sergei always liked to reel in with talk of family then came in with the guilt-tripping, but he didn’t mind it. Truth was, he missed them too. “You know your sons are clueless without me, right?”

Sergei laughed again, knowing what Mika said is a truth even he can't deny. “Denis is too chaotic for his own good. And Boris has no sense of leadership. You kept them in line. Especially after…”

Both men knew what that meant and chose not to speak any further. Speaking of Veronika was a wound neither men were willing to reopen at the moment.

Silence took hold of their conversation for a few moments, all of which during, neither men spoke a word. The stared off into the distance, looking at the playground. In Mika's mind, he had a theory about why his uncle asked him here. There would be only one reason why he'd go out of his way to ask him here and deep in his gut, in the part that filled him with a dormant apprehension, Mika knew but he wouldn't have peace of mind if he didn't ask. “So you texted me. Told me it was important.” Mika and Sergei exchanged a glance. “What does Ivan want? To tell me I shouldn’t be here?”

Sergei shook his head and kept his eyes on Mika. He observed him, scanning his face, making a low thoughtful sound when he saw what he wanted to find out. “You still angry. About him. About your upbringing.” Sergei looked forward again, but continued speaking, stern Russian eyes on his nephew. “Your father--”

Mika's face twitched, visibly furious at the mention of Ivan and the word father being used as a descriptor for the man. “Please, Uncle, don’t call him that. No father sends away his kids because of a scare. I know he still blames me for what happened--”

“He doesn’t.” Sergei looked at Mika as he spoke and the younger man laughed, shaking his head. “Dismiss it as much as you want, it the truth.”

Sergei, out of anyone, understood just how deep the hatred between father and son ran. Being around the Zima-Capek family for so many years, in service of both Ivan and Gustav, he understood how deep the hatred ran. Vladimir Capek, the father of both Gustav and Ivan, was a cruel, cruel man. An iron fist in both his rule of the Bratva and his family. Gustav was lucky and got out, but the firstborn son always had a choice to be in or out. The second-born didn't and he made Ivan into what he was from an early age and Ivan did the same to Viktor and Mikhail. Viktor was more equipped to take it and make the most of it.

Mikhail was different. Sensitive. Emotional. He didn’t have the darkness in his eyes. He had more in common with Gustav than he did his own father. He didn’t yearn for killing and violence. He was an angry boy, that much Sergei observed over the years, but he did not have the killer instinct most within the organization did. He's a good cub on the edge of becoming a strong bear.

“Mikhail, Ivan wants to see you. I know it brings you anger. Your fire grows wild and the winter in your heart for him is like an unpredictable blizzard on the coldest month in Siberia. It’s almost manic, but it has been three years. Your father does miss you. Mary left him three months ago. It’s been…a trying time for him.” Sergei knew he had to choose his words carefully. As he stood up, he kept his eyes on Mika. “Go or don’t go, it’s your choice. But…” He looked forward and a small frown crept its way onto the older man’s face. “Family is complicated. Father and son is especially complex. You still have a chance. Ivan is unforgiving like Moscow winter. And you are persistent like Russian warrior. You survived that harsh winter without proper protection. Do the same now and you might come to know something deeper about yourself.”

Was that true? Or was Sergei just trying to sell him to the idea that Ivan has changed? What a bunch of bull! He hasn’t changed. Ivan Zima was incapable of changing. No amount of time alone from his children, his wife, any of his closest loved ones that he sent away, would ever make what he did to him and his mother go away in the snap of a finger. Nothing Ivan could do or say would make Mika forgive, much less forget all the pain he was forced to endure because Ivan Zima couldn’t process that Mika wasn’t like him in the slightest. The abuse he suffered through, the lessons that resulted in him punching a kid’s light’s out - that was all Ivan’s doing.

But at the same time, Mika was here. His father wanted to see him and he wasn’t a scared fourteen-year-old anymore. He could stand up to the Big Bad Boogyman if he tried to come for his soul.

“Fine.”

Sergei looked back at Mika, his brow raising at the young man with an intense curiosity.

“Tell him I’ll be there tomorrow. Perhaps for lunch, assuming he still knows how to make Perogies like before.”

Sergei laughed. “It’s the only thing he can cook without burning down the kitchen.”

The two men laughed. For as loyal and faithful to Ivan as Sergei was, the one thing Mika probably missed the most was seeing his Uncle Sergei. Laughing with him. Trading stories. When he was crying and his mother was in a screaming match with Ivan, or she was tending to the twins, Sergei was always the one person who managed to turn his frown upside down. So few people could do that nowadays. Even Cece, for as much as she has tried to get him to open up to her more, couldn’t do that. Not since the shooting. In a way, maybe this was what Mika needed.

𝘼 𝙎𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙤𝙛 𝙄𝙘𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙁𝙞𝙧𝙚 — A Pokemon Story

---

There were moments during her explanation that Miki phased out into static. Not that she didn't hear everything that Missy was saying. She heard enough. Some local takes her on consistently and constantly gets squashed by her mighty Froslass. It was after that point she stopped caring about it. She'd never let the ice queen know it, of course, but the jealousy that oozed from her accomplishments was a sensitive issue for Miki. Cynthia was as tough as they came. Every time that Miki had left her post of the Elite Four, temporarily forsaking her spot to challenge, she'd easily get through her replacements and former co-workers, but Cynthia always topped her. It had been an infuriating experience every time.

Cynthia had done this for 7 years straight, though the last half of those years had been when Miki had made it into the Elite 4, climbing up the ranks. To the Sinnoh League record books, Miki Park, the Lava Queen, was Sinnoh's #2 trainer. Number two only.

Miki swallowed down her scathing rage at every comment that her rival made and chose to smugly grin it all away. "Of course I still have Blitz! It's true, he does not fit within my fire and dark-type specialization but he's been with me from the start. Ever since he hopped through my window as a Shinx." Miki had issues hiding her reminiscing emotions when she thought about that day way back when. Back then, she hadn't even started her journey, yet found her best friend. "And now he's arguably my strongest. Certainly has given you issues in the past, or do you not remember when your dearest Grant fell to his volt tackle during our last encounter?" Miki said with a proud and smug expression on her face.

Sum up your week in roleplaying in just 3 words

anxiety create stoppage

Edenridge

_{TIMESTAMP — Tuesday July 21st, 2021, Early Morning
FT. Cameron Hyde & Jessie James “Bluejay” Milligan}

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With his folded arms against his bare chest, Cameron watched the strawberry blonde breathe gently in between her dreams. She lay on her front, her back uncovered by the duvet and illuminated by the morning sun; a sleeping angel.

Their night had gone very much like the Devil had planned even in spite of the raging storm. Hyde and JJ propped up the VIP section of the Afterlife. Money was no object as he still had much left over from the savings he had left over from before his imprisonment. Plus there was the added bonus at Jessie was a Scott Street baby; they always had more money than what they knew what to with. They sank drink after drink, exploring each other's lives with words and reconnecting after a lifetime apart. Selling her on all the bullshit was so terribly easy that Cameron never really had to try. He was working in international construction and hated social media, she took the bait hook line and sinker. He was upfront with Blue about not all cut some of his time spent at the leisure of the Massachusetts correctional office; she didn’t care. Perfect.

Soon they found themselves on the dance floor, moving together so slinkily and sexy. Cameron didn’t care that all eyes were on him, waiting for him to fuck up, in fact he thrived on it. The more eyes that were on him the better. It was all a part of the plan. The plan that he had concocted sharing a jail cell with Charlie Taylor. The night drew closer and closer to its end and so did the storm. With a reprieve from the downpour, Hyde suggested to Blue that she come to his place. No one had ever set foot there except for Aleyda but that was by design. Everything that the Devil was doing was by design. JJ was eating out of the palm of his hand; as expected.

When they had reached McMahon Woodwork, they barely uttered a word to each other before Cameron and Jessie were tearing each other's wet clothes off and throwing them around the shop. The sex was fantastic and they went at it multiple times. As expected, everything had worked out to Cameron’s plans. There was an idea, an illusion that many people believed. Most subscribed to the thought that Hyde was a wild animal that had luck on his side. The reality was that, yes, he was a prisoner of his more basic instinct, that much one only had to ask Jessie James about from their evening together. Yet he was also calculated and a lot smarter than they think. Cameron was a beast with the mind of a scientist.

He reached down for the hot coffee he had brewed as JJ began to stir. “Morning Blue.”

Between the warmth of the sun that hit her and had encouraged the wild blonde to open her eyes, a small groan following, JJ was blessed by the sight of her dream man and holding a cup of coffee as soon as she woke up. How considerate. She was so lucky. After that perfect night back, even before he came up to her at the bar, JJ spent it with Lamb and Sonya, enjoying company, but the fun didn’t get started until she finally met up with her longtime crush, Cameron.

And what a night that was. Dancing and drinking, feeling his arms around her. Taking control when he needed to and letting her guide him when she needed to. All of those times spent with just letter correspondence, it had finally happened in real life. How long had she yearned to be in his arms? She had imagined it so many times and no amount of men or women at college (and some a bit older) could completely satisfy what Cameron did in a single night. All of her wildest fantasies that she cooked up for so all those years in her college days had come true last night and now she was reaping the benefits of that perfect night. “It is a good morning, isn’t it?” She grinned, although sheepishly, as she took the first sip of her coffee. Bitter with a note of cinnamon and hazelnut creamer. With a wider smile that still showed signs of her exhaustion, she said, “You remembered how I liked my coffee. I only mentioned it a few times in our letters.” A small laugh left her rosy lips as her eyes started to slowly center and fixate on her man.

“I never forget” Cameron’s blue eyes drifted across JJ’s body as he watched her wake up to the day's new world. And it was true, he never forgot anything. It was this volcanic memory, constantly spewing lava into his brain that often caused his violent rage. Even last night, when he had Blue pinned to the door by her throat, their lips dancing in chaos together, he could’ve squeezed tighter, he wanted to squeeze tighter because she reminded him of everything he was not supposed to have, everything that he had been told would never belong to him. Though that was going to change. Cameron was going to take everything that belonged to him and his family and that was going to start with JJ.

Making his way over to the bed, the Devil sat down on its edge before shuffling closer to the Scott Street blonde. He reached forward with his hand, taking a handful of Blue’s hair in between his fingertips and pulled her lips to his. She tasted like coffee, God he fucking hated coffee. Pushing down the urge to smash her head off of the wall, Cameron let his tongue weave a story of wanting. When he finally broke the kiss, he eased himself backwards, allowing her space but not before resting his hand on her thigh firmly. “If you want, when you’ve finished your coffee I was thinking we could go out to breakfast?”

As soon as that visceral kiss had come, it had retuned to where it originated. JJ, in normal circumstances, was a woman who held her ground firm and stood it with a playful confidence, but ever since last night -- no, ever since they had started talking via the letters -- she’s felt different. WIth him, for the longest time, Jessie James felt like he had this control over her that she absolutely loved. It wasn’t the bad kind but something that she longed to have in her life long before this moment. He knew exactly what she liked from how the right combination of aggression and tenderness made her puddy in his hands.

And when he proposed breakfast, as she took a large swig of her coffee, she let her rosy lips curl into a smile. “Breakfast sounds amazing right about now. I know we both have worked up an appetite.” Bluejay yawned slightly as she took another sip from her cinnamon and hazelnut coffee. The taste was heaven but not as heavenly as Cameron’s hand on her thigh. “I could go for a full spread right now. You know I’ve got the appetite of a lumberjane, right?” If last night was any indication, he’d know exactly how hungry she could become if the circumstances were right.

Cameron grinned as he noted the playful look in JJ’s eye. She really was quite fun but she was also oh so easy to toy with. “Well, if you’ll indulge me.” He placed his own coffee down on the bedside table and shuffled closer to the blonde. He moved himself forward and began planting soft, gentle kisses on her neck and shoulder, caressing her skin with his lips and gently nipping at her ear. “I’d like to take you out, we’ll grab some food from wherever you’d like then from there we head down to Collins Port, jump on my little boat I have moored down there and we head out onto the water to enjoy our food with the sunrise”

The Devil’s hands were not idle playthings as his free hand came up to hold onto Jessie’s neck. She was so supple, delicate, enticing…fragile. The monster’s blue eyes followed her rosy cheeks until they met with her own, enthralled green ones. It wouldn’t take much pressure to snap her neck like a twig but that wasn’t Hyde’s game, at least not today. “How does that sound, my Blue?”

The way he said it - his blue, it made every touch before that hold a deeper meaning for JJ. Her heart was pacing like an anxious-ridden man going back and forth in their apartment, those steps rattling as her heart fluttered. The kisses, the way his long finger gripped on her neck. No man has ever been able to do that without some resistance from Blue, but Cameron Hyde was different. He had a way about him that just made everything so natural. He could throw her against the wall and she might just let him.

“That sounds wonderful!” She looked deep into those dangerous eyes of his. Dangerous because she felt so vulnerable anytime she met that emerald gaze of his. Literal puddy in his hands. “You’ve mentioned the boat so many times but to actually see it…” For so long, she had dreamed of it. To see it and be on it with him had kept her awake some nights and now that dream was going to be made into a reality. “Then let’s not waste any time..”

“Well let’s waste a little time.” Cameron grinned as he stole a taste from JJ’s lips. The truth of the matter was the boat that she had longed to see was even Hyde’s at all. Before his incarceration, the demon spawn of April McMahon was working a bank job with an older crew in Boston. Needless to say it didn’t end well and one of them tried to make off with Cameron’s cut, thinking he was just a rookie kid. Big mistake. When the criminal returned home that weekend, his wife was in the ICU and his dog had been gutted. Cameron lay in wait in the chaos before dragging him out and drowning him in the lake. The boat was his consolation prize. “Before we go, I want to show you a little bit of my world, you didn’t really get the chance to see it last night”

Taking a hold of JJ’s hand, Hyde gently pulled her up from the bed. The duvet dropping off to the floor showed her amazing body and he just had to soak it in. She was outstanding. He brushed her sternum and chest with his hand before reaching down like a gentleman and handing her one of his shirts. “Here, meet me out the front when you’re ready. Don’t keep me waiting.” Cam tickled her nose with a kiss before departing the small bedroom. This was all so easy.

Show me part of his world?

Bluejay stood bare in front of her sapphire-eyed Prince Charming, looking at him. No smile. No half-grin like she typical had expressed on her face. She just gazed at him. Silence commanded the room much like the two of them did whenever they separately walked into one, but right now Cameron Hyde was steering this ride. Her attention was all his as he tossed a shirt of his to her. It was a simple dark-colored shirt. Nothing too fancy. Her Cameron wasn’t a fancy man but she was his.

When he left, she spent only a minute thinking about what he meant by his world? In the times they’ve communicated in their letters, while she came to be entranced by his poetic words and hilarious wit, she couldn’t even fathom what he meant by that, yet the wild northsider was intrigued in him even more than she had ever been before. As she slipped on the shirt and looked around the room for any sort of bottoms, JJ was casually investigating the dressers. She struck good luck and found a pair of jeans that seemed to be suited more for someone of a feminine body type. Still a little snug, but the fit was there. A dark, almost black shirt with blue jeans. Pair that with a pair of shoes she found in the closet and she was as ready as she ever was gonna be. JJ spent only a few extra minutes getting her hair somewhat presentable and brushed her teeth.

“As good as I’ll ever be.” She finally left the room, the mystery of what Cameron meant still hanging in her mind even as she came down the stairs, meeting her prince charming waiting by the door and her being like a street version of Cinderella as she came down the stairs. She immediately kissed him. “So you mentioned something about showing me your world?” She asked, that half-grin on her face returning to its rightful home. She was dying to know what he meant by it.

She was wearing his clothes. Well well. It didn’t take Jesse James long to make herself comfortable. Cameron began to count in his mind as he tapped his fingers together. 1, 2, 3, 4. 1, 2, 3, 4. He exhaled deeply before answering her, as if he was breathing out all the rage and anger just so that he could get through their moment together. “I did.” Hyde began. “Let me tell you a story.” He reached forward and interlocked his fingers with Blue’s before leading her into the central area of the shop.

McMahon Woodwork had two floors; the main shop filled with unfinished works by Cameron’s grandfather and a balcony which housed the living area. “You know our families have more ties than you think? If my understanding of history is right, the Milligans and the McMahons arrived together on the same boat at Collins Port back in the 17th century.” Hyde led the girl to the centre of the room before positioning himself behind her and wrapping his arms over her chest tightly. “Your family built buildings. Mine built the roads and everything else. Yet we don’t get Foundling status. A crime if ever there was one.” The handsome devil placed his head on JJ’s shoulder, kissing her neck as he held her close. “This was my grandfather's shop. You go in any house in town and you’ll find something with the McMahon symbol of excellence…even yours. Next time you are at your home, check any old wooden bits you have in there. You’ll see our sigil.” With his arms, Cam moved Bluejay without releasing her from his grasp, aiming her gaze at an unfinished bust carving on the far side of the room.

“When my grandfather died, he left this place to my Mom. She didn’t have it in her to step inside, so it sat vacant. All these unfinished projects. When I got back from my work abroad, I asked her for her keys. I can’t finish what he started but I can continue his legacy. I want to build roads. I want to build a future. Maybe you can help me do that.”

As Cameron told his tale, the story of his life and what this place was, some of it had seemed familiar. What he said about her family was the truth. Her mother Siobhan had told her many things about what contributions the Milligans had made to Edenridge over the years. Buildings that were still up and running today (though under new owners), yet the Foundling status were out of her family’s grasp and out of the McMahon’s grasp. It seemed like a shame because those who seemed to give greater efforts to what Edenridge was now compared to those who were simply given foundling status because they were part of those original settlers was a pity. The Milligans were connected to the Cleary’s through marriage.

She felt his anger towards some things. Others she didn’t understand, but Bluejay was sympathetic to it, at least. As she gazed upon the unfinished projects Cameron was speaking about, she looked at him, almost like she was hearing things. Almost like he hadn’t said what he just said. But in all the time she had known him from letters to the past twelve hours, Jessie James had come to know one thing about the man that stood behind her: he never said anything that he didn’t mean.

She melted in his touch and everything in her felt relaxed. At ease. “You said it best. Our families built the foundation of this town. Yours with the roads and mine with the buildings. It’s like…I don’t know if I’d call it this, but fate is a nice way to sum this up, no?” JJ was a believer in many things. Massages to help you relax, whiskey with a giant ice cube was better than going neat, and even some oxy with hard liquor went hard on the right days - but fate and destiny and anything that seemed too good to be true? She was skeptical,. Again, right circumstances converted nonbelievers - or at least that’s what her mother always used to say to her.

She turned around to face her Prince Charming, looking him into his eyes, holding his hands, and she kissed him. And once more that went deeper. “Together we can make this place into what it was meant to be. Milligan and McMahon. Together, there isn’t anything we can’t accomplish.” She kissed him again, putting feeling into it. “I do have a degree in engineering, after all. My time at college wasn’t wasted nor will our time here be wasted.”

As Hyde held her face in his hands, looking into JJ’s beautiful green eyes, he knew. The warmth of her skin beneath his fingertips, the dazed and content look on her face. With the words she declared of fate and with every kiss she planted on his lips. He had seen it so many times at this point. She was his. Blue had reached that stage of wanting and desire that was optimal for him. All Cameron had to do was keep her that way and life would be easy from then. He gained nothing for feeling for her but he gained everything if Blue felt for him.

He was going to destroy her.

Cameron took both sides of JJ’s face into hands and held her there, wordless staring and beckoning her into this thrall further. She was putty in his hands. “We are going to take everything back.” The devil spoke softly as he gently caressed her cheek; ignoring every urge to gouge out her pretty eyes. “You and me, Jessie. We are taking the world and everything in it.”

As she became lost in those eyes again, she found herself smiling almost to the point of permanently having that expression on her face with how warm he was making her feel. Touching her cheek like she was the only person in the world that mattered to him. The way he said her name. In both letters and real life, Cameron Hyde was as eloquent as his gestures were grand. A poet with the body of a model. And she was his as he was hers. No words could convey just how truly happy she was right now, how wanted he made her feel, and how part of her wanted to forget about the boat, but she was excited to see the morning with him on it.

“You lead and I will follow. Always.” She breathed as she kissed him deeply. Something she has become quite addicted to in the short amount of time spent with him. Jessie James never was known for her subtlety in expressing how she felt. Physical touch was one of her top love languages, after all.

And there in her words he saw it. Devotion. JJ was his now, his property to do with as he pleased. It was all going according to the plan. Edenridge would be burned to cinders by the time he was done and he was going to start at Scott Street. “You better.” She would hear the threat as a joke, they always did. They never could read between the words like he could; it was because he was smarter than them. So privileged, so soft, so easy to break.

The frequent kisses from his new “beloved” did nothing to mask the strawberry blonde's intentions. That was fine. Cameron had learned from his time with the viper Aleyda Gonzalez. He had to give a little, just a little to keep the wheels in motion and train barrelling onward. He wanted to show her off, show the world that Cameron Hyde was a changed man and that if a princess from that god forsaken cul de sac could see past his history then so too could they. If they did, they would be playing his game now, not theirs.

“I guess breakfast and the boat can wait a little while longer.” Cameron twisted JJ around before pushing her forward towards the counter top. He came up behind her and with one hand began to unbutton the front of the stolen jeans she had claimed as her own. As he pushed down her trousers, the Devil’s free hand rose up and wrapped itself like a claw from hell around her pretty little throat and began to squeeze. Hyde pressed his mouth to her ear and nibbled lightly before hissing his vitriol deep into the soul of his new prey;

“I’m going to ruin you.”

You Can Become a Hero!

_______________________________________________ // INFO D A T A Full Name -Yukiyama Daichi Hometown - Sapporo, Hokkaido Prefecture, Japan Quirk Type - Emitter Gender - Masculine - // PERSONALITY P E R S O N A L I T Y Guarded Daichi is guarded in a lot of ways. Guarded in the sense that he keeps a lot about himself and his thoughts to himself, internalizing them, which also lends itself to him being very introspective about people he encounters. Putting up walls is also a bit of a habit from the natural indecisive nature of Daichi’s whole identity, feeling torn between two sides he can’t seem to choose or what might be the real him. As a result of this, he put up walls so he makes decisions in how to interact with others. Indecisive Simply put, Daichi can’t seem to make up his mind about who he is, how he acts, or what his “main” personality should be. On one hand, you have the very approachable Daichi that greets you with a smile, asks about how your day is going, and invests in the conversation. This is what might be referred to as the side that represents his mother and this is the version of Daichi that tends to say what’s on his mind (if he deems the situation to be appropriate). On the other hand, the aloof, sometimes cold version of Daichi is distant and quiet. Not shy, but not quite sociable. This Daichi takes time with his words, analyzes the situation and sometimes, it may come off as unnatural and random. This would be his interpretation of his father’s rather crude, analytical way of acting. Truth be told, this is just an extension of Daichi’s inability to know how he should act and always draws from his parents and how they acted around him in his upbringing. Sincere Despite the two-sided nature of his mannerisms, Daichi is always sincere in how he acts, what he says, and whenever he does it. This is possibly his true personality, even if he does not understand it completely himself. Daichi is always so earnest and there’s never any deceit in his actions or words. The smile he wears, no matter the initial reason or the reason he uses to explain it, is always a genuine one. At his core, Daichi is a confused boy with a heart of gold and grounded on the stable ground that he is full of love and compassion. It’s just that his brain struggles to understand how the rest of him should act.

Physical Description Everything about Daichi is about as average as one gets. Among his peers, he is seen as short since most of them tower over him, but he’s always thought of his 5’5” height to be normal for someone like him. People always have their opinions and they’ve always been as harsh as Hokkaido winters. His sandy blonde hair and deeper golden eyes have always stood out. Something he inherits from his mother without a doubt. He’s a fairly lean boy with not much going for him in the way of muscle. Personal History Ever since Daichi was young, he always had certain difficulties. It wasn't just because he was the only son of two pro heroes who operated out of Sapporo, Hokkaido, Japan nor was it because when they weren't around, Daichi was raised by a rotating door of nannies, butlers, and sitters. Yeah, he grew up wealthy because his parents did well for themselves: Ice General and Mother Nature, one of the few husband-wife duos of heroes. No, the reason that Daichi struggled was, early on, he displayed behavioral issues. He wasn't temperamental or needy or really anything like that. As a young boy, he was fairly mild compared to other kids his age in similar backgrounds. His issues were behavioral because, as professionals examined him, while he proved to be normal in most areas, what these professionals deduced was that Daichi showed signs of having an unique form of split personality disorder where instead of two separate identities living in the same mind, his ability to distinguish who he is really was divided among two core people: his parents. Over the years, Yukino Yukiyama and Shizen Chikyu, otherwise known by their hero names Ice General and Mother Nature respectively had tried their best to ensure their son got all the help he could. They hired the best therapists, gave him everything he needed: love, attention, but they could only do so much. Eventually, as it would turn out, Daichi's problems and the further ones that he'd face in the future, would be in his hands especially as his quirk had manifested when he was eight years old. A freezing quirk at its core that only worked on natural ground. A fitting quirk for someone who comes from the lineage that he does. With the tools at his disposal, Daichi was enrolled into the best elementary school that his parents could find. He ended up making friends, though some took issue to his unique personality (or lack thereof). Bullies became the norm, but no matter what, he always wore a smile. Torture was the name of the game in the cold, cold world of elementary school and kids were as cold as the winters in Sapporo, yet Daichi never wavered. His smile and apparent optimism persisted. He endured like the cold he grew up in, always remained grounded in the one thing he come to discover about himself. It wasn't the whole package to his identity and he didn't know if he'd ever know that for himself, but sincerity was key. Sincerity was the only way you could survive in the face of despair. This helped him through the last years of elementary and middle school until he took the entrance exams for Isshin Academy. While he didn't pass with complete flying colors, what he did pass with was enough to pass the written exam. The next stage was even more difficult but Daichi persisted. He faced the adversity with a smile. Someday, he would know who he was meant to be. Whether that's grounded like his mother or cold like his father. He'd face it as The Sincere Hero. Character Arc Daichi is a character who was born in the middle of two forces pulling at him. One represents his father, the cool, powerful hero who always knows what to say and never lets his emotions get the better of him, while one represents his mother: a nurturing, sensitive soul who is a master at PR and public speaking. These two sides of what influenced him the most were always something that divided him in more ways than one. Eventually, it divided his personality and shook his confidence, splitting it right down the middle. His whole journey is about being decisive about himself. Who is Daichi? Is he the in-charge man that his father shows or is he the attentive friend with a heart that matches sincerity? This is his character arc. By understanding who he is and who his true self is, Daichi will be able to grow stronger as a person. He is useless if his foundation is as unstable as his ability to make a decision about something so simple as an everyday interaction. Quirk Description Altered Tundra is a quirk that is both literal to its name and more complex than the name implies. At its core, Daichi's quirk can rapidly decrease the core temperature in the ground, freezing it solid by the physical touch of his feet. By decreasing the temperature, he literally alters the ground, making it both solid and brittle enough to be easily broken (depending on what his intentions are). Daichi can control the state of its hardness, though going between the hardened ice state and making it brittle like an icepick about to snap off a ceiling in winter takes time to do so effectively. With the combined elemental quirks his parents have - his father's absolute zero quirk and his mother's control over natural ground - the perfect marriage between the two have taken shape in his own. Daichi knows he lacks in some areas and because of his lack of mastery, specifically being able to shift between brittle and solid ice, he has a long way to go. As it stands now, he can only extend his quirk to five feet in any direction of him but only either with brittle ice that wouldn't take much to completely obliterate or the kind of dense frost on the ground that one might find on a frozen body of water in the winter. Maintaining either take an immense amount of concentration, something of which requires Daichi to remain as stationary as possible. If he doesn't, the stability of what he has frozen - brittle or firm - may be compromised and just shatter within seconds.

You Can Become a Hero!

_______________________________________________ // INFO D A T A Full Name -Yukiyama Daichi Hometown - Sapporo, Hokkaido Prefecture, Japan Quirk Type - Emitter Gender - Masculine - // PERSONALITY P E R S O N A L I T Y Guarded Daichi is guarded in a lot of ways. Guarded in the sense that he keeps a lot about himself and his thoughts to himself, internalizing them, which also lends itself to him being very introspective about people he encounters. Putting up walls is also a bit of a habit from the natural indecisive nature of Daichi’s whole identity, feeling torn between two sides he can’t seem to choose or what might be the real him. As a result of this, he put up walls so he makes decisions in how to interact with others. Indecisive Simply put, Daichi can’t seem to make up his mind about who he is, how he acts, or what his “main” personality should be. On one hand, you have the very approachable Daichi that greets you with a smile, asks about how your day is going, and invests in the conversation. This is what might be referred to as the side that represents his mother and this is the version of Daichi that tends to say what’s on his mind (if he deems the situation to be appropriate). On the other hand, the aloof, sometimes cold version of Daichi is distant and quiet. Not shy, but not quite sociable. This Daichi takes time with his words, analyzes the situation and sometimes, it may come off as unnatural and random. This would be his interpretation of his father’s rather crude, analytical way of acting. Truth be told, this is just an extension of Daichi’s inability to know how he should act and always draws from his parents and how they acted around him in his upbringing. Sincere Despite the two-sided nature of his mannerisms, Daichi is always sincere in how he acts, what he says, and whenever he does it. This is possibly his true personality, even if he does not understand it completely himself. Daichi is always so earnest and there’s never any deceit in his actions or words. The smile he wears, no matter the initial reason or the reason he uses to explain it, is always a genuine one. At his core, Daichi is a confused boy with a heart of gold and grounded on the stable ground that he is full of love and compassion. It’s just that his brain struggles to understand how the rest of him should act.

Physical Description Everything about Daichi is about as average as one gets. Among his peers, he is seen as short since most of them tower over him, but he’s always thought of his 5’5” height to be normal for someone like him. People always have their opinions and they’ve always been as harsh as Hokkaido winters. His sandy blonde hair and deeper golden eyes have always stood out. Something he inherits from his mother without a doubt. He’s a fairly lean boy with not much going for him in the way of muscle. Personal History Ever since Daichi was young, he always had certain difficulties. It wasn't just because he was the only son of two pro heroes who operated out of Sapporo, Hokkaido, Japan nor was it because when they weren't around, Daichi was raised by a rotating door of nannies, butlers, and sitters. Yeah, he grew up wealthy because his parents did well for themselves: Ice General and Mother Nature, one of the few husband-wife duos of heroes. No, the reason that Daichi struggled was, early on, he displayed behavioral issues. He wasn't temperamental or needy or really anything like that. As a young boy, he was fairly mild compared to other kids his age in similar backgrounds. His issues were behavioral because, as professionals examined him, while he proved to be normal in most areas, what these professionals deduced was that Daichi showed signs of having an unique form of split personality disorder where instead of two separate identities living in the same mind, his ability to distinguish who he is really was divided among two core people: his parents. Over the years, Yukino Yukiyama and Shizen Chikyu, otherwise known by their hero names Ice General and Mother Nature respectively had tried their best to ensure their son got all the help he could. They hired the best therapists, gave him everything he needed: love, attention, but they could only do so much. Eventually, as it would turn out, Daichi's problems and the further ones that he'd face in the future, would be in his hands especially as his quirk had manifested when he was eight years old. A freezing quirk at its core that only worked on natural ground. A fitting quirk for someone who comes from the lineage that he does. With the tools at his disposal, Daichi was enrolled into the best elementary school that his parents could find. He ended up making friends, though some took issue to his unique personality (or lack thereof). Bullies became the norm, but no matter what, he always wore a smile. Torture was the name of the game in the cold, cold world of elementary school and kids were as cold as the winters in Sapporo, yet Daichi never wavered. His smile and apparent optimism persisted. He endured like the cold he grew up in, always remained grounded in the one thing he come to discover about himself. It wasn't the whole package to his identity and he didn't know if he'd ever know that for himself, but sincerity was key. Sincerity was the only way you could survive in the face of despair. This helped him through the last years of elementary and middle school until he took the entrance exams for Isshin Academy. While he didn't pass with complete flying colors, what he did pass with was enough to pass the written exam. The next stage was even more difficult but Daichi persisted. He faced the adversity with a smile. Someday, he would know who he was meant to be. Whether that's grounded like his mother or cold like his father. He'd face it as The Sincere Hero. Character Arc Daichi is a character who was born in the middle of two forces pulling at him. One represents his father, the cool, powerful hero who always knows what to say and never lets his emotions get the better of him, while one represents his mother: a nurturing, sensitive soul who is a master at PR and public speaking. These two sides of what influenced him the most were always something that divided him in more ways than one. Eventually, it divided his personality and shook his confidence, splitting it right down the middle. His whole journey is about being decisive about himself. Who is Daichi? Is he the in-charge man that his father shows or is he the attentive friend with a heart that matches sincerity? This is his character arc. By understanding who he is and who his true self is, Daichi will be able to grow stronger as a person. He is useless if his foundation is as unstable as his ability to make a decision about something so simple as an everyday interaction. Quirk Description Altered Tundra is a quirk that is both literal to its name and more complex than the name implies. At its core, Daichi's quirk can rapidly decrease the core temperature in the ground, freezing it solid by the physical touch of his feet. By decreasing the temperature, he literally alters the ground, making it both solid and brittle enough to be easily broken (depending on what his intentions are). Daichi can control the state of its hardness, though going between the hardened ice state and making it brittle like an icepick about to snap off a ceiling in winter takes time to do so effectively. With the combined elemental quirks his parents have - his father's absolute zero quirk and his mother's control over natural ground - the perfect marriage between the two have taken shape in his own. Daichi knows he lacks in some areas and because of his lack of mastery, specifically being able to shift between brittle and solid ice, he has a long way to go. As it stands now, he can only extend his quirk to five feet in any direction of him but only either with brittle ice that wouldn't take much to completely obliterate or the kind of dense frost on the ground that one might find on a frozen body of water in the winter. Maintaining either take an immense amount of concentration, something of which requires Daichi to remain as stationary as possible. If he doesn't, the stability of what he has frozen - brittle or firm - may be compromised and just shatter within seconds.

Edenridge

TIMESTAMP: Flashback || Sophomore Year - Spring Semester (right before Summer)

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A week before finals and Danny was royally screwed. He only had a weekend to study for all the subjects he hated and all he could do was think about beating Rye in a stupid love game. Love… sex… same thing. They were both equally stubborn so neither were going to tap out just yet. The end of this coming summer would be the end of their game. They had made their bets at the winter formal when Rye sarcastically joked his fuck list — pardon the language — was larger than Danny’s. Danny took that personally.

Now he was sitting at a picnic table with his team, the legacies of the Elite, surveying prospects while the rest of them complained about school. If they got lower than a B that would mean they’d be put on probation from the team. None of them wanted probation. They loved basketball, it's what kept them going since most of them absolutely hated school. In Danny’s case it wasn’t school per say, it was the fact that he had to do homework and study. Homework sucked. Studying sucked. Okay, school sucked too. If he could, he'd skip highschool just to pursue basketball professionally. Unfortunately, his parents said he needed an education. How lame was that?

As he closely observed all the pretty girls, his mischievous gaze trailed from a cheerleader’s backside to her tight jean wearing, emo looking boyfriend’s booty. They weren’t facing him so he couldn’t make out who they were but the guy’s plump toosh was distracting as hell. Before he could get caught staring for too long, he brought his attention to his brothers-in-arms only for him to be rewarded with quite a disgusting sight.

Danny went from being turned on to disgusted in a matter of seconds. River Jansen, #33, junior and Clayton’s Power Forward legacy, was sucking face with his girl, primitively and without a care in the world who was watching. His girl? Side piece? Friends with benefits? Whatever they were, they needed to chill. He didn’t understand why River couldn’t wait until after school. Lunch was about to end too. If they really needed to release stress they could just go to the janitor’s room and do a quickie. Goodness, Danny hated PDA.

Rolling his eyes in annoyance, he noticed Mika too wasn’t pleased with the sight. Mikhail Zima was the late David’s legacy and he took this borderline porno in the courtyard as his opportunity to bounce. Smart move. Outstanding even. Why didn’t Danny think of that first? Tapping his pen on a notebook with unanswered math problems, Danny watched his bro pack his belongings. Mika explained how he didn’t need to get an earful from Mr. Beau for being late again. Danny could understand that. Mr. Beau was kind to a point. Poke the bear too much though? Then the gavel dropped.

Just like that, the team was saved by the bell and River was up from the bench, after he left a hickey where the cheerleader’s cleavage was. Once he gave Danny a high five, he disappeared with his girl. Out of sight, out of mind. Soon after, the rest of the Legacies said their goodbyes and strode to class. For a moment, Danny did find himself frowning as he tried to get a read on Mika, his biggest competitor. It was still unreal that David was dead and he wondered how badly that impacted Zima. Before Mika went inside, Danny called out, “Fourteen! Sunday morning, let's start our week right. You, me, Lyon Park.” When Danny wanted to meet at the park court that meant he wasn’t looking for a fair game nor was he looking to play by professional standards. He wanted to play some streetball, have fun, and best Mika. All things that would start Finals week right.

“Yeah, I’ll be there Twenty-Seven!” Mika halfheartedly waved with his back to the reigning captain, arm raised high over his head.

About the same time that Mikhail had disappeared with a crowd of people, another equal-in-height, fair-skinned boy by the name of Marco Brady had been secretly half-eavesdropping at the table nearby. Marco wasn’t intentionally listening in. He had honestly been trying to work up the courage to approach. For ten minutes, but all he could do was just sit as normally as he possibly could, listening to the banter between the Elites. River Jensen and his girlfriend, Mikhail being grossed out by it but not being as vocal as Danny was.

Marco was at the table next to them for a few reasons. He had actually ate lunch at the table, so it was just the perfect cover, but for a while now, Marco has been hardcore crushing on Danny Belmonte. He has been for close to a year now. Ever since the Carlisle house party, it’s only become stronger. More intense. He’s tried to date people here and there. Friends would set him up with girls, but Marco always blew them off (politely, mind you) because his heart was taken by another. Danny just didn’t know it.

But now that the coast was clear, Marco made his move, walking up to the table. “Hey Danny!” He greeted the Italian boy with a bright smile and a wave that made his stomach tighter than wearing his clothes from junior high. It was so awkward and he wasn’t sure what else to say. “Hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time! Just saw ya and thought I’d say hey..”

Marco Brady wasn’t someone Danny usually hung out with but since the party that Allison tragically died at they were more amicable with each other in the halls. They didn’t really hangout much outside of school but if Danny had to kill time in between classes or before practice and Marco happened to be there, why wouldn’t he talk to him? He was finding it oddly enjoyable, in a needed distraction kind of way, to listen to the soccer boy’s passions for Rock Lee and the sorts.

Honestly, prior to Marco, Danny didn’t do anything but live and breathe basketball. Well that was a lie, sorta. When he did have downtime, he carved wood in his dad’s man shed, planted flowers with his mother, played paintball with the boys, or watched films, usually of the spy or action-thriller variant. The Italian Stallion wasn’t a complicated boy, he knew what he liked and kept to it like clockwork. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t intrigued with the geek world, especially with how Marco talked about his interests.

He was so full of life, with an infectious smile. Excitable, like a hyperactive puppy. Undoubtedly and unapologetically himself, Marco made the young Captain of the Edenridge Celtics want to get into hobbies absolutely foreign to him. He even convinced Danny he could do more than just be a kitchen assistant. He made Danny believe he could actually cook a good meal. Marco would be a good salesman if he really wanted to. “Nah Pup,” Danny rested his chin on his palm, his elbow on his math notebook, as he glanced up to meet his unlikely friend’s gaze, “I got a free period now, so I’m just going to die here and try to study so my dad doesn’t kill me. How ‘bout you? Things been aiiight?”

Marco had partially frowned when he noticed how negatively Danny sounded when he spoke about studying. It was somewhat of a foreign concept to him because he did rather well with most subjects. English was one that he half-struggled with. “Anything I can do to help?” He asked, taking a seat opposite of Danny. “I got a free period too. I was originally gonna run a few laps. Coach Rojas said I could, but that can wait.” And there he went rambling on again. Marco really had the bad habit, especially when he didn’t know what point he didn’t want to get across. “I can help..if you want it!”

“I don’t even know where to start!” Danny dramatically complained as he looked down at his poor note taking and his study guides. “Like first of all, quizzes and tests should not exist. And secondly, why do I gotta’ get good grades to play basketball?” Whimpering like a big guard dog with a soft center, the thicker jock rested his head on his math notebook and lamented, “Just plan my funeral right now. Danny Belmonte. Death by school. Why live?” Maybe he should bug Rye to come over this weekend and help him study but the idea of studying and convincing himself to do just that was the initial problem. Danny did not want to study. At all. It wasn’t fun and quite frankly, it was a waste of time. Why was the world so cruel?

“There will be no dying today!” Marco protested with a smile and his usual positive outlook. He didn’t blame Danny for feeling like this about math. It was a hard subject. Geometry was hard if you didn’t understand the basics. He wasn’t doubting that Danny did, but stuff on the finals, or at least what Marco was assuming, was more advanced than what they had covered at the top of the year. “You have my sword!” Marco professed. He felt a need to stand up, but he settled for a slamming of his fist on the table in a dramatic way.

In faux amusement, Danny drawled, “Wooooo…” He was already exhausted from studying and all they did was plan to study together. “How about this,” Danny closed his notebook and gave the soccer jock a mischievous grin, “Why don’t you put your sword away, for now, and this weekend come over to my place and we go into battle, one subject at a time. Crash course it up! Studying like there is no tomorrow! But, for now…” Danny swiped all his things unceremoniously into his backpack, got up from the table, threw it over his shoulder, and gestured for Marco to follow him, “Wanna see something cool?”

Like the nerd that he was, Marco made a motion with his arms as though he was sheathing the invisible sword. His curiosity was piqued when Danny gestured to him. “Do I ever!” The usual optimism and high energy that Marco Brady embodied all day, every day, carried him into a brisk walk beside Danny.

“Do you like scary stories?” Danny walked through the courtyard and to the football field. There was no one there which made this journey quite blissful on this beautiful June day. As they walked through the field, heading straight to an area gated off, with unruly bushes, a couple of trees with creeping mildew, and leaves curled unhealthily, Danny strolled down the field, right in the center, making his way to this foreboding, off-limits, cut off section that was away from the rest of the world. A neglected part of the school grounds that could be a garden oasis if someone took the time to maintain it. “Do you know anything about the Unlucky Clover curse?”

“I grew up on Courage the Cowardly Dog, so that was pretty scary to endure through - but I loved it too!” It may not have been what everyone thought of first when the topic of scary stories came up, but it was the first thing he could think of as they walked across the football field. There was a lot of horrifying imagery that made a little Marco shit his pants one too many times, yet he never stopped watching it. Despite everything, it was one of his favorites. Even the King Ramses episode, which apparently everyone hated for a myriad of reasons. Shockingly, that was one of the few Marco didn’t get traumatized by.

As they reached their destination, Marco saw a lackluster section. He never saw nor heard of the part of school. He didn’t know it existed, but Danny Belmonte apparently knew a lot more than the Edenite of three years did. “Unlucky Clovers?” He repeated so he could think about it. The cheerleaders were clovers, right? Maybe it had something to do with that? No that couldn’t be it. “Well I know four-leaf clovers are lucky, so what is it like a five-leaf clover is bad luck?” Marco truly didn’t know -- at least, what he suspected he didn’t have enough confidence to put his guess out there. “Why? What are they? Where exactly are we, Danny?”

“1953. Karen Nowinski,” Danny began, as he forced the slit, cut by a student many years ago, of the chain link gate to open more. Gesturing for Marco to go into the thick of it first and to follow the faded gravel path, Danny watched the other boy carefully as he embarked on a storytime journey, “She was popular, pretty, and full of promise. AND she was the cheer captain of our Clovers, just like Allison was. The queen of the castle.”

In time, Danny was taking the lead again. The deeper they went into this forbidden overgrown garden, the creeper it got. It was quiet. Too quiet. All that could be heard was their footsteps on the ground and their soft breathing. “Someone like that could get anyone she wanted and she did. She was perfect. Why wouldn’t she? She sat on her throne, leading the Clovers to victory, and most importantly, she was seen. All she ever wanted was to be seen.” He paused, with fast reflexes he pulled Marco to him, catching his friend from almost tripping over a branch.

Whether it was the story that had his attention or he just didn’t see that branch, but Marco was falling forward. Thank god for the sturdy safety net in the form of Danny Belmonte. Chuckling as he collected himself, he said, “Thanks for that.” Marco wasn’t clumsy, but easily distracted, so he may as well be.

Danny continued.

“There was this one particular boy, shy and unassuming, Gregory Mooney was his name. Her boy next door loved her dearly.” He stopped in his tracks, seeing the apple tree that marked they were almost there. Almost to his spot, that wasn’t all bad once you went inside. “You know this place used to be beautiful. Back then Edenridge’s garden club took their job very seriously. Nowadays not so much. Under this apple tree here, Greg spilled his heart, telling her all his life he loved her and only her, and you know what? She liked him back. Loved him, she said. Of course… this isn’t a love story.”

Could have fooled me. But Marco was aware that this wasn’t a love story…despite everything being told. Danny said this was a scary story, so there was bound to be a plot twist somewhere. What could it be? Marco wondered as he looked at Danny with his undivided attention on the Italian jock.

Turning around to face Marco, Danny crossed his arms and sighed, really speaking passionately of his knowledge on this tale, “Her friends showed up and laughed at him. Laughed at him like he was a joke. A fool. And not good enough for Edenridge’s sweetheart. Karen didn’t, no couldn’t, lose face. If she did, she’d fall from grace. Be at the bottom. She couldn’t risk that. She couldn’t risk being ridiculed. She couldn’t risk being invisible. And so, she broke his heart. Shattered it. Setting her fate in stone.”

“How cruel,” he mouthed out loud. It didn’t anger him per se. He had to imagine things back then were different than they were now. People were more accepting of how their friends felt for someone else, or at least that’s what Marco liked to believe. His stomach tightened up. What was it he felt? Empathy pains? Yeah that’s probably it. Though maybe deep down, a sense of relation passed through him. Could that be his future with Danny? God he hoped not.

Finally, Danny led his friend to their final destination. A small building, disused and abandoned. An old girls bathroom, with nature taking over it. Over the years it became a safe place and sanctuary for teens. Whether they were burners or loners, or kids just needing to get away, this bathroom was here, ready to provide them shelter. Doesn’t change the fact that it was cursed. Haunted with dead cheerleaders, the story gods say. “This is the place Greg was found and arrested for the murder of Karen Nowinski. On the night of the annual basketball charity game, Celtics versus Monarchs, he drowned her in the lake cursing the Clovers for brainwashing her and blaming them for taking everything he ever loved away from him. All the best cheerleaders from that point on would be accompanied by misery and every so often a cheerleader just like her - popular, pretty, and full of promise - would see her… wet and with his hand marks around her neck… moments before they…” Dramatically Danny pretended he had a noose around his own neck, crossed his eyes and stuck his tongue out. To add to the theatrics, he made a sound like he was choking before he finished with a whisper, “…died.”

Marco jumped at that final word. The shock of the tale lingered for a few minutes, but the immediate reaction that he had with Danny’s choice of theatrics was a slight nudge of the larger boy’s shoulder. Of course, Marco being so tiny in comparison, it didn’t do much but the spirit of the act was there and couldn’t be denied.

As he took the next few moments to collect and run back everything Danny told him, his first thought was about how that story made him feel. His best friend was a cheerleader. He knew others, too, that were cheerleaders. At some point, he wondered, did they come to know this knowledge? Was it like a rite of passage for them? He could be jumping the gun. It’s not like he actually knew what it was like to be a Clover.

But holy heavenly spirit, this really wasn’t what Marco had expected. And now he couldn’t help but look around. Curiosity killed the cat, but the only animal around was the hunk with a morbid grin on his face and Marco, so they were safe. He started to walk around and examine the building and then the bathroom. He walked ahead, slowly but with the intent to explore, he stumbled upon a part of the building with a myriad of initials. “What’s all this?” He asked, turning his head and glancing at Danny, his right index finger of a half-bent wrist pointing to it.

“History,” Danny nodded as he stepped forward and traced his hand on the initials that decorated this wall. “As cursed as this place is said to be, the school deciding it should be put to rest, abandoned, just like the dead are, kids still found a way to it… a hideaway, an escape, a lover’s den,” Unintentionally, Danny glanced over at Marco when he said that last part: a lover’s den. His eyes fixated on the other boy’s gaze, before he smiled, “This is like sixty something years of kids making their mark.”

Stepping closer to Marco, leaning towards him, Danny’s chest brushed against the smaller boy’s side as he insisted, “Check this out.” He pointed to a SJ x SL. “That’s Officer James and Mrs. Ramsey, Mei’s mom, or well Miss Ling when she was younger. They were highschool sweethearts. Oh!” Danny shifted himself to where he was behind Marco and pointed to a cluster of signatures above them. RL, WR, JSW, SC, JC. “The Gallows. Jericho, the guy at the record store, says they were short lived but the music they produced makes you feel like… those that are meant to be, will be. Souls bound together connected by music. Connected by love. Connected by… fate.” He paused again, looking down at the boy following his hands with intrigue. There was a short instant where he felt like he was looking too long, so he brought his eyes back up to the signatures, keeping his mind distracted, for good reasons, “Sadly, all good things come to an end and they are now gold dust in Edenridge history. Pretty cool, huh?”

Danny wasn’t looking at Marco at this point. Whether he was standing close intentionally or not was hard to tell, but he made sure to keep his attention on the names and not the boy that was inches away from him. Danny hadn’t written his initials yet. It felt silly to do it alone, at least for him. But seeing all these kids of Edenridge’s past find sanctuary in a bathroom, writing their initials to engrave their presence, made him hopeful that though there was so much hurt and so much pain, there was still good in the world. David’s death hit home for him but he didn’t want to fail his memory, Coach’s legacy, or the Elite. He wanted to make them proud in the only way he knew how. He wanted to shine, just like them. All these souls, whether friends or lovers or perfect strangers, found each other and found this place. Souls bound. Soulmates. Souls turned stories. Beautiful, really, how all these alumni found their chosen family. Found home.

“Yeah..Pretty cool…” Marco spoke in a barely audible whisper-like tone, now realizing that Danny was behind him and so close that he could feel the significantly stockier boy’s voice on his skin, making it tingle to the point where Marco felt his arms and knees grow weak.

Focus, Marco. C’mon you gotta f-o-c-u-

But focus he didn’t. All his mind could think about, all Marco could allow himself to obsess over was his scent. Something about it was familiar. Sweet. Spicy. Intoxicating. His senses were blinded and caught off guard. He went forward, but as he tripped over what he thought was maybe a loose step was just air. It didn’t matter, though. As he tripped over something invisible, Marco fell back, feeling the backside of his shoulder blades hit Danny’s firm chest. He lost all sense of balance as he made a sound of panic. Words came but none of them were known to any recorded human language.

Breaking the fall with, well, with himself, Danny held Marco in his arms, steadying him and the soccer jock’s suddenly weak legs. He was surprised to see that Marco, even with his athletic build, was light as a feather and he assumed, easy to pick up. Leaning his head forward to get a better look at Marco’s face, Danny intently gazed into the other boy’s dreamy, hopeful eyes and asked, “Are you alright?” Concern was written on his face. He didn’t even realize how tightly he was holding onto Marco but what he was aware of was how gorgeous Marco’s eyes were, like a perfect spring sky. There was something about the way he smiled and how his face radiated warmth like the gentle sun that made it hard for Danny to pull away. He liked looking at Marco. “Do you need water?”

As he found himself in his crush’s strong, muscular, yet soft arms, Marco was in heaven. He felt lightheaded by whatever was happening at this very moment, but make no mistake: whether God was a man, woman, or some ambiguous, androgynous being, he was in their kingdom and had been transported by the Italian hunk who had the most compassionate eyes. Like a meadow under a sunset sky.

Wait what did he say again?

Marco blanked for a solid half minute before he heard it like it was a delayed reaction. “Huh? Oh, yeah I’m fine. I just lost my footing is all--” And got lost in that intoxicating aroma you wear.

As he was coming to his senses, Marco didn’t even entertain the thought of addressing the position they were in. This was his best case scenario come true and he’d be a fool if he was going to do anything to ruin that.

Relieved, Danny gave a winsome smile and muttered, “Glad, great.” There was a moment where he just stood in that position, holding Marco, in a stupor. Marco wasn’t the only one being lured by charm and an addictive scent. Even with Danny going through the motions of their shared moment, his expression was unreadable. The only thing that could be read was from the glint in his eyes, the heat behind his stare, and how he looked at the other jock with adoration. He could feel a natural pull while his gaze fell on Marco’s lips.

Unfortunately for Marco, all good things don’t last forever. The warning bell, while faint and distant, seeing how they were in a small abandoned building a way away, brought Danny back. Quickly evaluating his predicament, he gently stood Marco up and released him, stepping away. Hiding any sort of embarrassment behind his cool stature and strong physique, Danny rubbed his neck and gestured to the exit that led back toward the school, “We should probably get going. But yeah, I hope you liked..” he gestured around him to the old and unsupervised bathroom. “… this.” He hoped Marco also enjoyed the time they spent together. It wasn’t a lot, but each time they did he looked forward to seeing him again. Seeing that big, goofy grin. One could hope.

Marco was left feeling conflicted. As the subtle sound of the warning bell had snapped him out of the heavenly state he was in, he still couldn’t peel his eyes away from Danny’s. He was slowly collecting himself. He didn’t want this to end, but sadly Father Time didn’t wait for anyone, much less a crushing Marco. Danny motioned towards the exit and Marco’s legs started to move on their own. “Yeah! I loved it.” Marco was on autopilot. “It was…an interesting experience. This place has a…I don’t know what to call it, but I like it. A lot!” Of course, the main reason for that was because Marco came here with Danny and it was just the two of them. Even if Danny didn’t actually know how he felt, just being here with him was enough for him.

“Oh yeah!” Danny had just remembered as he turned around on his heel, only to realize it might’ve been too sudden for his comrade. The clumsy boy that was Marco Brady went straight into his chest and once again Danny was steadying his friend within an embrace. He chuckled this time, finding Marco’s accident prone trait endearing and adorable. “Sorry… I should’ve warned you. But yeah, quick question,” Danny cleared his throat, watching Marco with a soft, yet careful gaze, “My place or your’s?”

As he once again found himself blessed with a face-first full of Danny’s toned chest, something he wished he could stay in forever, Marco grasped onto whatever willpower remained and only had pulled away for a short moment, though not by much as he didn’t have that much willpower. He met Danny’s eyes. Maybe it was just him and this moment that he was creating a different version of in his head, but when Danny just randomly asked his place or Marco’s, his mind went alive, scribbling any and all possibilities. He didn’t want to assume. He didn’t want to but he also couldn't stop himself from entertaining the possible scenario that Danny wanted…to go to his place and be…alone.

No, he’s not like that. At least, I don’t think he is.

Looking up at him, Marco went the safer way and said, “I’m sorry? My place or yours?” He asked with as minimal hope as he could show on his face, yet a very small part of him was hopeful and more terrified than he was willing to admit that Danny was asking him out on a date…

This reaction was rewarded with confusion as the muscular jock asked, “For studying?” Danny knew if he failed finals his life was over but maybe Marco didn’t like this whole gesture to get him to be more comfortable with him as a friend. Danny thought if he showed a side of him to Marco that he hadn’t seen before — the one intrigued by local stories and secrets, the one who had his own sanctuary at school, and the one who wasn’t all testerone and did care about more things than basketball — then he wouldn’t regret helping him out. Did he get ahead of himself? Did he assume Marco liked him as a friend but really was just being polite? Did he force himself onto Marco and now he was left with no choice but to say yes he’d help him? Was this all selfish of him and Marco wasn’t getting anything in return? “If you don’t want to, I understand. I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want… or is there something you want? I can… sweeten the pot?”

Briefly, Marco could see another side of Danny. The side that thinks more than he gives off. A side full of self doubt as if one wrong move he makes, he’d upset someone. In Danny’s case, that would be his father. The man that expected him to do his best. Always his best. Danny didn’t want to lose his chance to have a study buddy but at the same time he didn’t want to force someone to do something they didn’t want solely because he was being desperate right now. Still, there could be the off chance that Marco actually wanted to help him. That Marco liked him beyond the obvious fact that Danny was a dumb jock. Or was he getting his hopes up on something that wasn’t true? Did Marco only like him because he was popular and hot? Did Marco even like him?

Almost immediately, he shook his head, waving his arms slightly. “Oh no no! I do I do! I just wasn’t sure what you meant is all!” He had to clear his head of all impure thoughts, all distractions and focus on what Danny asked. Before they came here, Marco offered to help him study. That’s what this was about. Marco’s initial offer to help Danny out. “We can go to your place if you want! I don’t think there’ll be any peaceful quiet at mine - not with my younger sister and brother.” Marco had a half-grimacing expression on his face. It wasn’t so much that they would bother Marco, but Marcella and Emiliano loved to have their own screaming matches. Sometimes it was about nothing. Actually, ninety percent of the time, it was about nothing worth all that energy, but those two were like Madara and Hashirama: always fighting no matter the circumstances. And of course, that led to Ma doing the same with them. Hardly what one might call ideal studying zen zone.

“Great, yeah, awesome!” Danny’s demeanor changed once more, relieved that Marco seemed to want to help him. All his worry was inside his head. He was doing the most by making up problems. Marco liked him. “I mean my house can get pretty loud too but we can drown out the noise with music. And,” he eagerly added, “My mom will definitely cook something big for dinner if she knows you’re coming.”

Grinning from ear to ear, Danny was now completely ecstatic at the possibility of not tanking his finals. He surveyed his study buddy, wondering already how he could properly thank him when this weekend was all said and done. Glancing at his wrist watch, he yelped in surprise, “Oh snap! We’re late. We better get going.” Instead of leaving right away, Danny gleamed at the boy, looking straight into his eyes with joyous admiration. Gently, he ruffled Marco’s hair and expressed his gratitude, “Thank you. This means a lot to me, and if you need anything, anything, I want you to know I’m just a phone call away.”

Under normal circumstances, Marco’s instinctual response might’ve been to push Danny’s hand aside, but never in a million years would he do that. Not with him. With a smile, he nodded. “I’ll hold you to that!” In a rare showing, Marco teased the hulking jock as he took the charge. As the Winger of the soccer team, Marco was fast. Haste might’ve been his motivator because they were late, but something in Marco came alive. Seeing the way Danny was looking at him lit a fire under him. How long that might last remained to be seen, but he was going to ride the storm for as long as the universe allowed him to.