#*noises of ensuing scuffle*

[fisheito]

oh, why no.... we shan't... wouldns't dareth...........

[yuuchama]

Sometime during the VDC training camp, when everyone on team Night Raven is sleeping over at Ramshackle Dorm:

Ramshackle Dorm has no shortage of spare rooms, but their condition is another story. You've managed to get enough of them decently clean. They're not as nice as your room, which has had far more time invested in it and is well lived in, but your groupmates should be able to spend a few days at the dorm without issue and are more than free to tidy up rooms as they please.

Yet on one of the first nights, you hear the door of your room creak open. It's dark and you can't see the intruder, though you know it's not one of the ghosts. The approaching footsteps aren't as heavy as Grim's, even after he's cleared out the entire fridge in one sitting. You're also pretty confident Grim is fast asleep beside you.

"Hello?" You groggily lift your head and call out to the intruder. If it's anything malicious, you hope the ensuing scuffle will cause enough noise to wake everyone else up.

A weight pushes the edge of your mattress down and there's a gentle touch at your shoulder. "Prefect, do you mind if I spend the rest of the night here?"

"Jamil?"

You almost don't recognize him in the dark with his hair down. You feel around for a bedside light. Grim groans in his sleep when it clicks on and turns over, shielding his eyes with tiny arms.

Jamil looks exhausted. "Please, I'd really appreciate if you could let me sleep here tonight."

"Yeah, sure. Of course." Maybe it's the sleep addling your brain or your trust in Jamil. You see no reason to turn down his request and didn't question why he was coming to you instead of Kalim. You nudge Grim over to make room for one more on the bed.

The vice housewarden does his best to fit in the cramped sleeping conditions, assuring "I'll pay you back for this. Thank you."

He's turned towards the wall, back touching your side so that he doesn't fall. You wait to make sure he's fully secure in bed before turning off the light. In the calm that follows, you notice he's almost imperceptibly shaking. Sure, the dorm is cold, but not that cold. Especially with three in one bed.

"Jamil, are you okay?" The longer you spend awake, the more concerning this whole situation feels.

"I'm fine. Goodnight, Prefect." Jamil already has his eyes shut and seems adamant about not discussing things further.

"Okay... Goodnight."

You lay down and silence settles over the room once more. It's really warm between your two friends. Sleep is quick to catch up to you, you find yourself nodding off within minutes of your head touching the pillow.

Before you fully drift off, Jamil turns to face you. His hair drapes over the side of the bed and he places a hand on your pillow, lightly grazing your cheek.

"Thanks again," he whispers. "I feel a lot better with you here. Your room doesn't have bugs on the wall."

[alchemistc]

🏒 👨‍❤️‍💋‍👨 (but maybe don't break hearts about it)

👨‍❤️‍💋‍👨

Buck slides a hand into the short hairs at the back of Eddie's head, swallows up the sound of Eddie breathing through his nose, and releases with a slick noise, hand pressing Eddie back, eyes still not leaving Tommy.

🏒

Ten years ago, when he’d charged the blue paint looking to piss off a defender enough to make them sloppy, and instead gotten a stick between his legs and gone head first at just the right angle off the boards behind the net to pinch a fucking nerve, Howie had been the only one during the ensuing scuffle that had noticed the severe lack of movement in Tommy’s lower extremities, the only one with the foresight to call over a medic before skating right in to the melee to keep people away from Tommy. It had been smart thinking — Chim wasn’t the sort of net-minder who did more than chirp from his crease, and even in the heat of the moment it had been enough to make people pause, keep them from engaging, yank their sparring partner away from Tommy as two of his teammates skated the medic over to assess him.

[the-wintry-mizzenmast]

笛花 Dihua/Feihua prompt fill for @magicknightriderjellyfish02 Still riding that burst of inspiration in the groupchat from @lyselkatz's post-canon fanart of silver-haired Li Lianhua and bearded A-Fei.

[How the beard thing became permanent part of their life and llh's reaction towards it, esp when they are intimate with each other]

-----

“That tickles!” giggled Li Lianhua the first time that Di Feisheng scraped the unshaven stubble of his chin across the smooth surface of his husband’s thigh. 

He would have shaved earlier in the morning had it not been for Li Lianhua’s imperious demand that he come back to bed, and between those vigorous morning activities and everything else they’d done during the day, Di Feisheng had simply forgotten. From the way that Li Lianhua’s cock swelled in response to the new texture, it did not seem that it was unwelcome. So Di Feisheng rubbed his chin and jaw once more against his husband’s skin, before taking him into his mouth. 

“Growing your beard out, hm?” asked Li Lianhua the next day during breakfast, noting that his husband had eschewed shaving again. 

“Is that going to be a problem?” 

Li Lianhua reached out a hand, rubbing a thumb across his chin. “No,” he replied, the sunlight glinting off his silver hair lending his smirk a particularly mesmerizing glow. 

Di Feisheng leaned into his husband’s caress, turned his head to kiss his palm, and then breakfast was soon forgotten. 

Two weeks later, Fang Duobing positively yelped the moment he stepped past the threshold of Lotus Tower. 

“What is that thing on Lao Di’s face?”

“A beard,” Di Feisheng replied. “You’d know what it was if you could grow one.”

Fang Duobing made a strangled noise of protest and took a threatening step forward, forcing Li Lianhua to intervene. 

“You can’t possibly like that,” Fang Duobing accused, pointing at Di Feisheng’s face over Li Lianhua’s body, which was positioned squarely between the two of them. 

“Actually, I like how it feels,” said Li Lianhua with a saucy grin. 

Fang Duobing made a small noise of revulsion as the images of what the old fox meant rose unbidden in his mind. 

“It lends him quite a distinguished air, don’t you think?” 

“He looks like my father.”

“Which one?”

“Both.”

And then Li Lianhua had to try a lot harder to keep his husband and his disciple apart, lest another wall in Lotus Tower collapse in the ensuing scuffle. 

It was late into the night, after Fang Duobing had fallen asleep upstairs, his breaths becoming quiet and regular, before Li Lianhua clamped both hands around his husband’s face, and drew it down for a kiss. 

It was a long time before Di Feisheng was allowed to pull away enough to speak. “If I’d known you’d like it this much I would have grown it out ages ago.”

Li Lianhua smiled and shook his head. “You’ve changed, A-Fei,” he said softly. “I’ve changed too,” he added, holding up a lock of his own silver-white hair for emphasis, the result of the dissolution of the Bicha poison. “I don’t think it would have fit you then, as Jinyuan Alliance Chief, but now? Anonymous Jianghu Wandering Uncle? I think it looks perfect.”

“Anonymous Jianghu Wandering Uncle?”

“Xiaobao’s not entirely wrong about the look.”

Di Feisheng growled, his expression darkening. “Come here, you.”

Li Lianhua laughed, gave his husband’s goatee a tug, and then melted into his arms. 

[multipleoccupancy]

@governmentofficial continued from x

Mycroft was back at university - not to study, but to scout out potential new recruits for the secret service. His deductive abilities combined with his age made him an ideal candidate for the task, allowing him to blend in seamlessly and spot potential students that had not yet been noticed. Of course, while he was there, he had to visit his friend, Professor Moriarty. They had remained in touch since Mycroft's graduation, something that he was very grateful for because he had been worried that the man wouldn't keep in contact. That wasn't the case, though. They exchanged letters frequently, and Moriarty had seemed keen to meet up once again. While the Professor finished a lecture, Mycroft waited in his office. Or, at least, that had been the plan. When he arrived, there was already somebody else in there. On the surface, this was not unusual. Moriarty presumably got a lot of visitors - students, other academics, and so on. However, the other person appeared to be going through the man's desk drawers. That was definitely not allowed. "What are you doing?" Mycroft asked, confronting the intruder without a second thought. Considering who Moriarty was (that being, a mathematics professor), he had assumed that the man would not be a threat. That assumption was wrong. Instead of giving an answer, the man pulled out a knife and lunged for Mycroft. Instead of running, Mycroft stood his ground. His hand-to-hand combat training was recent, but he had always been a very fast learner. After successfully dodging, he tackled the man and began the try and disarm him. The ensuing fight was not an easy one. Whoever the intruder was, he clearly had his own combat experience. That was strange. Why would that be? Perhaps somebody had hired a professional of some kind to steal something? Or, perhaps this was someone that knew Moran? After all, he was ex-army, was he not? The intruder had traits of a military past himself, so perhaps this was a disgruntled former soldier that wanted to get back at Moran for a transgression of the past? Eventually, Mycroft found himself in control of the squabble. Getting there had not been easy, mind you. He'd successfully disarmed the other man, but he'd taken a few blows to the head in the process and everything on top of Moriarty's desk had been knocked to the floor, papers now lying across the room in a disorganised mess. Mycroft was not trying to kill the other man, but as the fight went on it became increasingly clear that he would need to be more forceful. In the end, what happened was an accident. Mycroft was just trying to knock the man out but, well, he'd always been a little heavy-handed. He slammed the man's head into the side of the desk and not only misjudged his strength, but also his aim - crashing it into the corner instead of the top. It was immediately obvious what he had done. If the way the man went limp wasn't enough, the blood would have made it clear. Shocked at what he had just done, Mycroft dropped the body - eyes wide as he stepped back. He had never killed anybody before. Of course, he knew that he was likely going to one day, but knowing it was a possibility and actually doing it were two completely different things. Then Mycroft heard movement. His head snapped to the side to view the office's door, where Moriarty stood. The noise of the fight must have covered up the sound of his arrival, so Mycroft had no idea how much the man had seen. One thing was for certain, though; he had just seen him kill a man. For once, Mycroft had no idea what to say or do. Seemingly frozen on the spot, he stared back at Moriarty, waiting to see how he would react.

Even has he was approaching his office after the lecture, he could hear something going on inside from down the corridor. There was some sort of scuffle happening which naturally made Moriarty spare a moment to check who was actually about in what was luckily an empty corridor before he trotted up to his office door to peek inside. He had expected to find Moran dealing with a problem but instead spotted none other than Mycroft Holmes just as he managed to crack the head of another man on his desk corner.

For a moment Moriarty watched to see what Mycroft would do, he was after all part of the intelligence services now and he had been mindful to be careful with him. He waited to see if he would try to look for something, any hint that he was onto him, even a glance around at his now very clean chalk board or bookshelves. Nothing. Just shock. It was not very often Moriarty got to witness a first kill, oh Mycroft looked pitifully shocked and of course he would have to take advantage of that.

So he took half a step back and then a regular step forward with a skidded pause under the doorway to gain his attention, at first putting on a smile in greeting before allowing his gaze to drift to the body on the floor and chose to purposely freeze on the spot, making his face drop before shooting a look between the body and Mycroft as if in some shock before he stepped into the room and immediately closed his office door and locked it. Leaning against it and taking the opportunity to sensibly listen for anyone else on the other side of it that might hear them. Satisfied they were alone, he rounded on Mycroft.

"What the hell happened?" He demanded in half of a whisper, moving over as if going to check the dead man's pulse but of course using the opportunity to see his face. Ah. The thief from the terrorist ring in Germany. Likely looking for the blackmail material on his boss, pathetic attempt if he thought he would find it in his office of all places. Moriarty abandoned his fake attempt at checking the clearly dead man, instead standing and looking at Mycroft seriously.

"You're hurt?" he checked having spotted there was a knife lying amongst the mess of his papers. He kept his eyes on him as if it was filled with concern and while he might not admit it to himself, it was partially very genuine. Moriarty had grown to admire the young man and had been truly disappointed in his decision to join the secret service, what a waste of all of his work and indeed a potential threat!

He absently corrected one of his desk chairs to put Mycroft into it, caringly of course before he pretended to fixate on the dead body in his office, inconveniently bleeding all over his work, even some student papers, which were much harder to replace with forgeries.

[robin-the-wanderer]

[ an audio recording dated back to a few weeks ago. the background noise is messy, but you can hear panicked panting and puffing, and a crowd of clamouring voices in the background, as if someone was being chased. ] “harper! use- use dark pulse-“

[ a terrified scream tears across the recording; and there’s a loud crash before silence ensues. loud panting and puffing is heard in the background. ]

“dispose of the girl. take the beast and go.”

“no-” [ there’s a sound of a scuffle, and another scream. ] “no, please, get that gun away from me, please don’t hurt me- DONT TAKE KONPEITŌ, NO!”

[ a desperate guttural shriek is heard, followed by the sound of a charging gun, before there’s a burst of a pokeball opening. ]

[ loud whirring sounds akin to roaring are heard; you can’t really tell if it’s of terror or of rage. the powerful boom of electricity is heard cutting through the air, followed by the cries of a panicked crowd of women and men. ]

[ there’s a faint “retreat! retreat!” in the background, and after a few more moments of chaos, silence returns once more. ]

“…”

[ another, sadder whirring around is heard this time, as if it was ashamed. ]

“konpeitō. please.”

“they’re gone. let’s go home.”

[ the sound of a pokémon being withdrawn into its ball, and the scuffle of boots against pavement, following shaky breaths that trailed off into the night. ]

…

Oh. Sorry. Arché did not mean to send recording. Arché no know how to delete recording, so Arché will just leave recording there and hope row-tum-blr no mind. Gratitude. Have good day.

[loopielupie]

Whumptober Day 6 - Recording

Passing through a GN barrier is something Lockon has mostly grown used to, but there is sometimes just a little bit strange or, maybe, miraculous, about seeing nothing but forest and then suddenly, out of nowhere, the threshold is crossed and his gundam is just there. Today, the sight of Dynames isn’t as alluring as the forest around him, but Lockon climbs its bent leg dutifully anyway and pops the cockpit open, a greeting for Haro dying on his lips when the little robot bounces in its spot, already speaking before Lockon’s even set foot inside:

“Lockon. Message. Lockon. Message.”

“Hello to you too, Haro buddy,” he chuckles, dropping into the seat and taking note of the flashing message icon on his loadout. “What’s-”

“Message. Hurry. Message. Hurry.” Haro interrupts him and he stops, something souring in his stomach. If he didn’t know better, he’d think Haro was…anxious. He clicks on the message and an audio file opens. Initially there’s nothing but steady breathing filling the cockpit and a quiet hiss, maybe…is it, wind? Rain?

That sourness in his stomach twists into a gut instinct and he knows who’s going to speak before he even says anything.

“Being followed…”

Setsuna.

“Two, maybe three. Going to try and lose them.”

Stomach dropping, Lockon yanks his phone from his pocket and calls him, swiping his bangs back from his face as it starts to ring. And then keeps ringing. The message has gone quiet again but Lockon keeps one ear on it while his other is occupied with the still unconnected call.

“C’mon, c’mon. Pick up the phone, Setsuna.”

Five rings. His knee starts bouncing agitatedly on the sixth; Setsuna never takes this long to answer.

You’ve reached Kamal Ma-”

Lockon hangs up with a frustrated noise and reaches for the comms panel. He hasn’t reached the end of the recording yet but he knows it’s not going to end well. He’s already late to this, he can’t afford any more wasted time. Compressing the recording, he attaches it alongside a quick coded message and asks Haro to send it off to the Ptolemy. He hits play on Setsuna’s message again; listening to the sounds of breathing and footsteps mixed with the occasional vehicle or bystander in the background.

“Definitely 3; all men. Average height, all HRL.”

He startles at Setsuna’s sudden interjection and how normal his tone is while Lockon can feel a lump constricting his own throat as the recording returns to background noise. He watches the time tick up on the screen for an agonising 6 minutes when suddenly there’s a quiet gasp and the footsteps get louder and faster: running, Setsuna must be running. That realisation sends fear through Lockon even before Setsuna speaks again:

“Got turned around. In an emptier part of town now, near the Industrial park by the river.”

Lockon’s heart drops. It’s not surprising that Setsuna might get lost in a place he’s never been to. He tries not to think about what that delay may have cost them, cost him.

“C’mon, Setsuna,” Lockon whispers, jaw clenched tightly as he fists the material of his civilian trousers. His heart is in his throat now but drops into his shoes at a sudden winded grunt.

“What do you want? Why are you chasing me?”

Lockon knows the fear in Setsuna’s voice is acting, he’s seen the kid lay it on to get out of situations before, but it doesn’t stop the rush of nausea. If his pursuers answer, Lockon doesn’t hear it and suddenly the recording explodes with crackles, shouts and curses overlaid with the telltale sounds of a scuffle. A harsh voice far too close to the comms unit spits something venomous about a “princess” that Lockon can’t make out but what does come through clearly is Setsuna’s sharp cry of pain and the sound of something heavy hitting the ground.

“Shit,” Lockon spits into the ensuing quiet, listening to the murmur of conversation before everything cuts off with an abrupt crack and a burst of static.

Lockon swallows thickly, his own breathing loud in the small space of his cockpit. He throws it open for air and slumps back in his seat, scrubbing aching, trembling fingers down his face.

“Shit.”

[cateringisalie]

Amaranth Cuttings - Chapter 4

Her double told Aeris to find the files she left in Wall Market. Curiosity is a hell of a thing and without Mom admitting anything, Aeris doesn't have many other options. Of course, getting to Wall Market is an ordeal in itself; unlike Sector Five, Sector Six is notorious for lurking monsters.

Aeris headed out a little earlier than normal the next morning. Already tired and the day barely begun; sleep had not come easily last night. Every time she was about to nod off, some distant part of the house conspired to creak.

With each shift of the structure, she tensed up. In the ensuing silence she lifted her head off the pillow and held her breath heart while her heart thundered and she waited for a follow-up noise. Could be a scuffling on the roof; like the monster that saw fit to loiter there three years ago. Or the previously purely hypothetical worse; an intruder - human or monster - moving around downstairs.

Silence. Nothing but the distant roar of the Mako reactor. She held on until at last she was forced to draw breath, the sound explosive in the stillness; too easy for it to conceal a more distant noise. She held her breath again. Nothing.

Aeris closed her eyes and dropped her head back onto the pillow.

Another distant creak; over and over the pattern continued until morning light crept under the upper plate.

"Are you okay?" said Mom as Aeris poured a rarely needed second cup of coffee with breakfast.

Aeris sipped at the coffee flavoured water and willed the caffeine to reduce the build-up of fuzz behind her eyes. "Fine. Just didn't sleep well."

Mom cocked her head to one side in contemplation. "I thought-"

She shook her head. "Just restless. Should sleep well tonight." After a longer than normal walk.

Once out of view of the house, Aeris turned towards the breach in the Sector Five wall. Around her the sector was already bustling, the crowds growing swiftly sparse as she headed sunwise.

Read the rest on Ao3

[voyageofthenemo]

Gone Yonder: Voyage of the Nemo Part 6

(They approach the Palace. Two Killjoys guard the entrance. P.A.T. hides inside Riley's satchel.)

Guard#1: Halt! Who goes there?

Tristan: Just us wandering fortune tellers.

Joel: We have important news for the Killjoy Queen.

Guard#2: Get lost! She has no time for this!

Nate: Then I guess she doesn't wanna hear about the revolt.

Guards: What?

Nate: I said "I guess she doesn't wanna hear about the revolt."

Guard#1: Revolt?

Guard#2: Maybe she would wanna hear this. Come in for a review!

Riley: (whispering to Nate) Nice.

(They enter the Palace, and walk into the throne room, where Vivian sits on the throne. The Star is kept on a pedestal under a glass cover.)

Vivian: What's this about a revolt?

Tristan: We are deeply honored to be in your presence.

Vivian: Yeah, sure. WHAT ABOUT THE REVOLT?

(Unnoticed, P.A.T. peeks out of the satchel. She squirms out and slowly creeps toward the Star.)

Riley: Well, you may have enslaved the people of this land, but when you captured them, you missed a few. Now those rebels are secretly plotting to bring you down.

Vivian: Really?

Riley: Yeah. The crystal ball never lies. Plus they have instruments of their own, so you'd better gather your forces and get out while the going's good, or else things are gonna get crazy.

Vivian: That's ridiculous, we made sure to lock up all instruments to prevent this sort of thing!

Nate: Y'sure?

(P.A.T. lifts the glass cover...)

Vivian: Of course I'm sure! Besides, they would need the Star to-

(Just as P.A.T. reaches for the Star, Vivian spots her.)

Vivian: WHAT THE HECK IS THAT?!

Riley: Uh oh.

P.A.T.: Uh... Hi. Wanna hear a love song?

(Vivian turns on the others.)

Vivian: So, you thought you could trick me into a snafu, huh?! Well, not today! (to the guards) Lock 'em up!

(The Killjoys surround the group and drag them away. Carried under a Killjoy's arm, P.A.T. looks back at Vivian, who meets her gaze before turning away, blushing. Cut to the five in the dungeon.)

Nate: Well, that plan didn't work.

Tristan: And I thought it was foolproof.

Joel: Is there a Plan B?

(P.A.T. examines the walls. She presses a brick, and it gives.)

P.A.T.: Maybe there is! Look, the bricks are loose!

Riley: Hey, she's right! That could be our way outta here!

(Tristan begins pulling out bricks.)

Tristan: This place is pretty ancient. C'mon, guys!

(Joel and Nate help Tristan to pull out as many bricks as possible, until there's a hole in the wall.)

Nate: (looking at the small hole.) That's it?

Joel: I don't think we could fit through there.

Riley: I could!

P.A.T.: So could I!

(The two girls crawl through the opening.)

Tristan: When you're in the clear, go tell Amelie and Ophelia what happened.

Riley: No way! I can't leave you guys behind now.

(A Killjoy passes by on patrol. P.A.T. jumps him.)

P.A.T.: HI!

(The Killjoy freaks out as Riley grabs him from behind. During the ensuing scuffle, he hits his head on the wall, knocking himself out.)

Riley: (to the Killjoy) Sorry 'bout that, but it's for a good cause.

(A few minutes later, Riley is disguised in his uniform and mask. She approaches the Killjoy guarding the cell.)

Riley: Coffee, sir?

Guard: Oh! Sure.

(He takes a sip... and instantly falls unconscious.)

Riley: It worked, P.A.T.!

(P.A.T. peeks out from behind the corner.)

P.A.T.: I still think my lullaby idea could have worked just as well.

(Taking the Killjoy guard's keys, Riley unlocks the dungeon door and opens it.)

Riley: Okay, guys, let's go!

Nate: Nice one, sis!

Tristan: Now let's get the Star and get outta here!

(Cut to the Star, still under the glass covering. Vivian is asleep. P.A.T. sneaks in, lifts the cover and takes the Star, careful not to make any noise. She pets the sleeping Vivian on the head before tiptoeing back to the others.)

P.A.T.: (whispering) I got it!

Riley: Good work, P.A.T.

Tristan: Now for the instruments.

(Transition to the old fort. The group creep up to the entrance, which is guarded by Killjoys. Nate folds a paper airplane and throws it past them. Taking notice, the guards follow it, allowing the group to sneak in. One Killjoy manages to snatch the airplane out of the air.)

Guard#1: Got it!

Guard#2: There's something written on it.

(They unfold the airplane.)

Guard#2: What's it say?

Guard#1: It says... "Killjoys smell".

Guard#2: They didn't even finish it? (takes out a pen and adds to the note) "Good".

(Meanwhile, the five sneak past several sleeping Killjoys and enter a cupboard where the instruments are all packed.)

Tristan: Bingo.

(A light from the window grabs their attention: It’s a Killjoy, his mask emitting a searchlight.)

Riley: Hide!

(They scramble for a hiding place. Nate trips and falls onto a set of bagpipes.)

Tristan: Pipe down!

(Outside, a sleeping Killjoy is roused by the noise.)

Joel: Get that out of here!

(Nate throws the bagpipes out the cupboard. It rolls after the Killjoy, who tries to make a run for it. However, it hits him in the back of his head, KOing him.)

Riley: You think they heard us?

Joel: I hope not...

(Transition to the next morning. The five wake up, stretch and yawn. P.A.T. looks out of the cupboard.)

P.A.T.: They're all still asleep!

Nate: This is a sad day for us.

Riley: Why?

Nate We've been outslept!

Tristan: C'mon, let's get outta here.

(With the instruments they need, the group exit the building, passing the unconscious Killjoy.)

Nate: (to the others) Shhhhh!

(He doesn’t see the bagpipes in his path until it’s too late; he steps on them, making a loud WAAAAAAAAHH! Immediately, the Killjoys are awakened by the noise)

Joel: Oh, no.

Tristan: RUUUUN!

(They all bolt)

Song: Livin’ La Vida Loca

She’s into superstitions Black cats and voodoo dolls I feel a premonition That girl’s gonna make me fall She’s into new sensations New kicks in the candlelight She’s got a new addiction For every day and night She’ll make you take your clothes off and go dancing in the rain She’ll make you live her crazy life, but she’ll take away your pain Like a bullet to your brain Come on! Upside, inside out She’s livin’ la vida loca She’ll push and pull you down Livin’ la vida loca Her lips are devil red And her skin’s the color mocha She will wear you out Livin’ la vida loca Come on! Livin’ la vida loca Come on! She’s livin’ la vida loca Woke up in New York City In a funky cheap hotel She took my heart, and she took my kidney She must’ve slipped me a sleeping pill She never drinks the water and Makes you order French champagne Once you’ve had a taste of her You’ll never be the same Yeah, she’ll make you go insane Come on! Upside, inside out She’s livin’ la vida loca She’ll push and pull you down Livin’ la vida loca Her lips are devil red And her skin’s the color mocha She will wear you out Livin’ la vida loca Come on! Livin’ la vida loca She’s livin’ la vida loca She’ll make you take your clothes off and go dancing in the rain She’ll make you live her crazy life, but she’ll take away your pain Like a bullet to your brain Come on! Upside, inside out She’s livin’ la vida loca She’ll push and pull you down Livin’ la vida loca Her lips are devil red And her skin’s the color mocha She will wear you out Livin’ la vida loca Come on! Upside, inside out She’s livin’ la vida loca She’ll push and pull you down Livin’ la vida loca Her lips are devil red And her skin’s the color mocha She will wear you out Livin’ la vida loca Come on! Livin’ la vida loca Come on! She’s livin’ la vida loca Come on! Gotta la vida loca! Gotta, gotta, gotta la vida loca! Gotta, gotta, gotta la vi'…

(After running like heck, the group finally manage to escape the Killjoys.)

Tristan: We've made it.

Nate: Instruments are ready.

Tristan: Okay, cool.

(P.A.T., wearing a top hat, hops onto a soapbox with a megaphone like she's a circus ringmaster.)

P.A.T.: Ladies and gentlemen, direct from somewhere else, where they are absolutely something else, I’d like to present our four guest soloists: my friends! Take it away, guys!

Song: A Different Beat

Say yeah, yeah (Yeah, yeah) Say ooh, ooh, ooh, yeah (Ooh, ooh, ooh, yeah) Say yeah, yeah (Yeah, yeah) Say ooh, ooh, ooh, yeah (Ooh, ooh, ooh, yeah)

I got a spoonful of sugar That I think you’d like No, I don’t wanna preach But I think you might Wanna cup (Sip it up, sip it up) (Sip it up, sip it up, sip it up)

I might be young But I know my mind I’m sick of being told What’s wrong or right So give it up (Give it up, give it up) (Give it up, give it up, give it up)

Uh-oh, now there you go Out of your comfort zone Cause I’m breaking out Not breaking down, down, down, down Ain’t got nothing to prove Walk a mile in my shoes I know the one thing that counts

I got the right To make up my mind Say it loud and clear For the whole wide world to hear We’re marching for love So turn up the drum Say it loud and clear For the whole wide world to hear

Yeah, we must have different shoes on We’re marching to a different beat Yeah! So baby put your boots on Keep marching to a different beat Yeah

Never in the slow lane Cause I like it fast No time you waste So I keep our feet on the gas (I live it up, live it up) (Live it up, live it up, live it up)

I might be young I know who I am So I don’t follow like a marching band So give it up (Give it up, give it up) (Give it up, give it up, give it up)

Uh-oh, now there you go Out of your comfort zone Cause I’m breaking out I’m breaking down, down, down, down

Ain’t got nothing to prove Walk a mile in my shoes I know the one thing that counts

I got the right To make up my mind Say it loud and clear For the whole wide world to hear We’re marching for love So turn up the drum Say it loud and clear For the whole wide world to hear

Yeah, we must have different shoes on We’re marching to a different beat Yeah! So baby put your boots on Keep marching to a different beat Yeah

I got my head up Shoulders back I’m doing me So they can see I’m marching to a different beat I take a look in the mirror And I like what I see So baby, I keep marching To a different beat

I got the right To make up my mind Say it loud and clear For the whole wide world to hear We’re marching so loud So turn up the drum Say it loud and clear For the whole wide world to hear

Yeah, we must have different shoes on We’re marching to a different beat Yeah So baby put your boots on Keep marching to a different beat

Yeah!

(By the time this song finishes, the color and vigor have returned to Splendorland, its flowers rebloom, and the Splendorlanders are freed, to the Killjoys’ shock. Vivian is especially stunned.)

Vivian: The hills are alive?!

Marvy: (sings) With The Sound of Music-

(THWACK! Marvy gets Vivian's knee to the groin.)

Nimm: Your Highness! They’re armed! They’re fighting back! We gotta go!

(She drags Vivian away by the hand, while Marvy hobbles after them. Meanwhile, the Splendorlanders celebrate their heroes.)

Ophelia: (to Amelie) You made the right choice, after all.

[albireocountdown]

snake eyes | fox | trial 1.4

The very first thing out of Fox’s mouth is-

“Sorry Vi. Sorry, Roo.”

Accompanied by an appropriately chastised wince, head ducked down. He pockets the knife, once more, having successfully been reality checked. It’s not always obvious to him, when he’s acting too unwell for others. He hasn’t been very helpful at all, has he? Everyone else is theorizing, and he’s sat here, distracted, dissociating, scaring his friends.

May as well step up.

“There’s a lot that doesn’t make sense - can I just go through as much of it as possible, please? First of all, unless someone’s ready to admit to being a secret banshee, or whatever, I don’t think trying to figure out who might have noise powers is accomplishing anything. Neither is flexing. I mean, we already know who here is physically strong - and I’m not, thanks, Flick - and anyone hiding any kind of jacked muscles isn’t gonna just volunteer that info. It’s pointless. Love the enthusiasm, but I don’t get the purpose.”

He taps his fingers on the table for a second, then continues.

“The order of events has me confused. The killer seems to have used the oven mitt to protect their hands, but the murder weapon was likely a broken soju glass, and the most likely scenario, to me, is that Lucky’s quick transformation is what startled the killer and caused them to attack. If you’re in the kitchen getting an oven mitt, why not grab, I dunno, a weapon? But…that aside, it’s possible they were attacking Lucky before the transformation ever happened. See, they would have known someone was in that room, due to the light, and maybe they came in and for whatever reason, a scuffle ensued. Maybe they shoved Lucky, or tackled them, into the television, hitting their face into it and causing their glasses to break inward. Hence the cuts. I guess that would hurt their nose pretty bad, though, and their face would be more injured, and the red glass would have been by the television, not far away from it…anyways, you can dislocate a shoulder by yanking on it hard enough. You don’t have to be impressively strong, just have the right leverage. If they were trying to yank on Lucky, or twist their arm behind their back and Lucky was struggling hard enough, it could get dislocated that way. And in that struggle, the bracelet could come off, too - and that’s why there’s that dent in the ceiling.”

It takes a second for him to re-gather his thoughts.

“If they’d hit their head, they were possibly dazed, and disoriented. I don’t know if they put their bracelet back on before leaving, but I think they probably tried to run out of the room and through the arcade - I…don’t know why. Probably because it was the only way out. I mean…our rooms are back that way. Maybe they were trying to make it. Whatever it is, I don’t think they were stabbed in room 1 - there would be some blood to indicate that, wouldn’t there? I guess I don’t really know. Regardless…I’m having trouble figuring out what state they were in when they reached the arcade. If they didn’t have claws, you’d think they’d have shifted back, but…their wings had to have been out, right? For the dust- ugh. I don’t get it. I just don’t.”

He hates losing. This is Conan’s poisoning all over again.

“Whatever. What I want to know is, why did the killer drag them back to room 4? Room 1, where this all went down anyways, was closer, and I just don’t get the attempt to obfuscate what room it happened in. Like, was it to hide evidence? It doesn’t seem like it did anything but make a mess. And - guys, is there any evidence at all to point to who actually did this? Because right now, all we have to go on is that they might be strong, or they might not be strong. What about their hands? If they’d broken the glass after, which they had to have done, they probably didn’t use the oven mitt to do it. I mean, there’d be blood all over the glass shards everywhere, in that case. Though…I guess if you’re throwing shit around, it wouldn’t necessarily cut your hands. So that’s a dud, too. FUCK.”

He’s as frustrated as can be.

“I’m sure we’ve already been over this, but it bears repeating - why are Lucky’s hands scratched, with glass shards in them, if the smashing was done after they died? And why’s there blood smeared all on their little-”

Fox unclips his tamagotchi from his belt loop, which has cloned itself - he now has two.

“Guy. Huh? I guess it’s possible the killer went through and smashed everything, room by room, til they got to the last one, the one Lucky was found; and by that time, it was midnight? Which is why the glass didn’t reset? But-”

Fox is starting to look really agitated, his aggravation bleeding through.

“That doesn’t help us figure out who did it. None of this leads to any suspect. A fair play whodunnit - we’re supposed to have all the evidence, aren’t we? Why does it feel like we’re still waiting for some third act twist?”

It would be a lot easier if this were a novel with a beginning, middle, and end.

[pikaclan]

Moon 365

Season: Greenleaf

Overarching Events

Mass extinction is toggled on

Ceremonies

Wolfpaw sits beside their new mentor, Fogcrawl, as the meeting comes to a close. Their claws dig into the ground as they glare up at the sky, wondering why Whispering couldn't be there with them at such an important moment

Starlingpaw sits beside their new mentor, Zahra, as the meeting comes to a close. Their claws dig into the ground as they glare up at the sky, wondering why Whispering couldn't be there with them at such an important moment

Hazyseed sits in the crowd, chest puffed out in pride as they watch Scorchpaw be named Scorchbud, and honored for their boldness. They consider themself lucky to have been able to train such an amazing young cat, and look forward to seeing the warrior they become

Misc

Flitchest was seen loudly bickering with the medicine cat of FlightClan

Health

Tumblekick picks themself out of their nest and begins the day anew, a fresh conviction in their heart Shrewdusk overcomes their grief Treestar overcomes their grief Avalanchebeetle caught a cat from another Clan trespassing on their territory and their ear was torn in the ensuing scuffle Cobaltnose's sprain healed Frogcry found a patch of flowering catmint and got stung by a bee Garlicbeam's fleas are gone Riverfish's soreness is gone Galegrowl's soreness is gone Sparrowhollow got heat stroke Wisteriaflare recovered from heat stroke Beamdrizzle is flea-free and their pelt is healed Bluebellknoll is cured from heat stroke but saved Shalenibble from a fox and got hurt Oakstream recovered from heat exhaustion Limethorn fought a rogue and was barely even hurt, only bruised! Wolfpaw got heat exhaustion

Patrols

As the patrol is checking the border lines, they hear the traipse of pawsteps through the territory The patrol follows the noise and comes upon a kittypet. They turn and bristle, hissing at the patrol. Fogcrawl calls out a greeting and engages them into conversation, and ask if they'd like to join PikaClan

Lemon Boy (female) joins the Clan and is intact

The patrol comes across a SplinterClan apprentice, waiting quietly at the border, who begs to join PikaClan Fadedflake is eager to steal a SplinterClan apprentice and Shiveringpaw joins the Clan. He is intact and apprenticed to Frannie

[ahedderick]

Ok. The year was 2016.

My son was trying to do a junior-level woodworking project with some shelves. My father set him up with wood and a couple of tools in the greenhouse. While we were working, someone moved a small board that had been sitting on the greenhouse bench and

ruined a very small mouse nest that had been underneath. The normal thing to do would be try to replace the wood that was moved and wait for the mama mouse to come back and reclaim her (singular) baby. However, we weren't sure we could put that wood back at the exact correct angle so that the mousling wouldn't be squooshed and Grandpa's cat was Right There.

My daughter, who was ten, had some Strong Feelings about the situation and imparted them to me eloquently. Loudly. Unceasingly.

"All right," I conceded, "gather up the Mouse and we'll take her home."

The mouse barely had her eyes open, and would need to be "bottle" fed with an eyedropper.

Back at home K rushed about getting the cage ready, then I had her read the text from the Orphans book and mix the formula. We heated a minute quantity of formula and attempted to install it inside the mouse. No, nothing doing, there was furious whisker cleaning and sneezing and squinchy faces but no actual consumption of formula. Not a surprise, really. I washed the formula off the outside of the mouse, which wun’t easy, neither, and returned it to K for cuddling.

  I suggested the name ‘Maxine.’ Maxine is an inch and a quarter long, sans tail. Everybody with a boxer, bulldog, or pitbull seems to want to name it ‘Max.’ I find some sophomoric humor in owning a mini-Max.   Next morning Maxine had four dropper feedings, and started solid food. Thank heavens she already has her eyes open, this process won’t be very lengthy. K brought her into the kitchen just as I was sitting down to my bowl of oatmeal, so I set one (One!) milky, sweetened oat on my hand. Drama ensued. Maxine wanted the oat, but could not figure how to get it in her mouth. After a great deal of licking, small jumps, and some assistance from her left front paw, she managed to consume. One. Oat.

Whisker hygiene is very important. Oatmeal is not conducive to good whisker hygiene. A lot of post-oatmeal whisker maintenance is necessary. Do not interrupt someone who is cleaning her whiskers. You will get a Dirty Look.

So we settled into a routine. I had 'custody' of Max while the kids were in school. She was one of the most expressive animals I have ever met. It's not that animals can talk, but - some of them let you know so clearly what they want . . . ?

A Play in One Act with Cake:  

Maxine Mouse: A-hem

Me: Er,     what?

MM: It is 11:00, and I noticed that you have tea and cake while I am getting small drops of formula.

Me: Ahh, would . . you like some?

MM: Yes, please.

{small crumb of lemon cake is removed and placed on the table}

MM:  nibble nibble MMMMMMM!!!!  nibble nibble nibble nibble nibble nibble nibble !!

MM: Isn’t sharing nice?!

Me: yyyy-es, yes, very companionable.

MM: Time for a mousenap! I’ll just curl up right here!

Me: That’s my hand. I need my hand. You sleep in your nest.

MM: No! Your hand is warm and cozy! I’ll sleep better right here!

Me: But, I

MM: Wah! I need love and warmth!!

{dramatic scuffle ensues, ending with mouse in mouse nest}

A: Here are your crumbs and fruit. Enjoy!

M: I don’t WANT crumbs and fruit! I want chicken salad!

A: That’s MY lunch; you have appropriate mouse food.

M: (skitters down my arm and starts rapidly eating my sandwich)

A: Oy! You! Vermin! Chicken salad isn’t mouse food!

M: (with her mouth full) I am NOT vermin, I’m a guest. And I want chicken salad!!!

A: Sighs, breaks off a small bit of sandwich

A & M: {Busy munching noises}

Well, anyhow. Mice grow up very quickly. At a certain point, Maxine politely made it clear that she was a big girl, and it was time to say goodbye.

We took her to a field very far from any neighborhood cats, and created a safe 'house' for her. I removed a shovel-full of dirt from the ground underneath a tree, her nestbox went in there, then we set a large flat stone on top so she effectively had a mouse-sized fortress. A dried gourd with a small cache of food and two exits in different directions completed the structure.

When I set her at the opening, she darted inside, then came right back to the entrance. The kids and I watched silently as she darted in and out, learned her way around her 'front yard', and eventually settled in for a wash-up perched in a small shrub. I gave her one last little cheek-scritch, and we said goodbye.

Maximum

Reminder to myself, re-tell the story of Max Mouse later.

[yr-obedt-cicero]

He was going to punch him?? 💀

According to the retelling events of the confrontation at the theater between Eacker, Price, and Hamilton; yes! It's said that Philip (Possibly Price too) was about to assault Eacker before some other folks in the theater lobby stepped between the three to stop them.

Page four of The Salem Gazette, dated; the 4th of December, 1801. Salem, Massachusetts. By Thomas C. Cushing, retells the event;

“He [George I. Eacker] determined to leave the box, and remonstrate with Mr. Hamilton privately in the lobby with his back towards Mister Hamilton and Price, overcome with agitation and shame to be thus treated, he exclaimed "It is too abominable to be publicly insulted by a set of Rascals."—"Who do you damn'd Rascals?" was the immediate enquiry repeated again and again. Mr. Eacker felt anxious to avoid a broil in the Theatre, and observed to the gentlemen, that he lived at No: 50 Wall-street, where he was always found—"Your place of residence has nothing to do with us!" was the reply. Upon this, some person's observing an intention as they supposed to as assault Mr. Eacker, and desires to prevent a disturbance to the Theatre, stepped before the gentlemen, and with difficulty prevented their approaching Mr. Eacker. Mr. Eacker then requested them to make less noise, and proposed retiring to some private place.”

(source)

You can read my transcription of the newspaper here.

Another newspaper, The Historical Magazine and Notes and Queries Concerning the Antiquities, even supports this by claiming;

“which were overheard by Eacker, who asked Hamilton to step into the lobby; Price followed—here the expression damned rascals was used by Eacker to one of them, and a little scuffle ensued;”

(source)

In Philip's defense, one source claims Eacker dragged him out of the box by the collar of his shirt, so I wouldn't blame him for getting infuriated or getting physical;

“This conduct Mr. Eacker resented in a very intemperate manner, collared Mr. Hamilton, called them damned rascals and villains, and said if he did not hear from them, he would treat them as such. Challenges were consequently sent to him by both.”

(source)

[mettywiththenotes]

Au where Bakugou is the JockTM and Izuku is the NerdTM, but Izuku secretly joins an underground fighting ring and has to hide that fact whenever he’s late for school or has to scrub off the blood on his shirt or smthg

Bakugou is the jock but he gets into scuffles and playful fights, not fucking bloody beaten-half-to-death fight clubs - which is why when he’s walking home alone one night and hears a bunch of noise, he walks toward it to find Izuku in his nerd clothes beating the absolute shit out of 3 older men, curb-stomping them, then getting out his All MightTM handkerchief to wipe the blood off his hands and saying “You’ll have to try again next time, guys! Seems like you’re still no match for me.”

Bakugou is horrified and actually kind of scared that he’s been kinda-sorta-teasing-and-making-fun of Izuku and all this time the nerd has had the power to kill him

They are more or less just rivals but only in terms of tests and grades! Not beat downs and broken legs and jaws!

Bakugou: DOES YOUR MOM KNOW ABOUT THIS??

Izuku, wiping the blood off his glasses: Obviously not, Kacchan, do you really think she’d let me do this?

Bakugou: But... I thought you were a goody-two-shoes! You’re super nice to everyone, even the teachers!!

Izuku: How else am I going to convince them to lay off me? If I didn’t get them on my good side, they’d totally be asking questions about where I was and stuff

Bakugou: 😨

Back when they were kids, Izuku was inspired when he and Katsuki would get bullied by the neighborhood kids and Katsuki would fight them and send them away, and Izuku would watch, in awe of his childhood friend’s strength. They eventually grew apart, not as close as they used to be and only just recently starting to repair what they had, but it still inspired Izuku to join his own fighting ring because he loved the pay-off when after a long hard day he’d get to take it out on people who WANTED to fight

Bakugou quit that shit in middle school and has since mostly grown away from that violent streak, and now he’s a jock but he’s one of those who only seems super scary but is actually quite nice in his own way. He’s quit the fighting scene, which is why when he finds out Izuku is doing this, he’s so shocked cause he never expected it

Bakugou, bandaging Izuku up: You gotta be more careful, stupid Deku!

Izuku: Kacchan, I’ve had worse than this, I’m fine

Bakugou:

Bakugou: WORSE?! WORSE THAN A BROKEN ARM??

Izuku: I mean YEAH! One time this woman with short hair brought an actual rifle to the fight, and-

Bakugou, already getting gray hairs: *head in hands*

-

Bonus, because I’m a sucker for Izuku and the League interacting:

The League are older teens who are the School Rivals that everybody hates and everyone just thinks they are super mean bullies, but they actually do join in with Izuku in the fighting rings and they used to patch Izuku up before Bakugou started doing it

The League have their own fighting ring but the guy who owns it is a creepy asshole, violent and manipulative with that wide grin stretching his face the entire goddamn time, and Izuku promised to get stronger and fuck this guy up for the League, so the League decided to come over every now and then and patch him up

Izuku went through an entire enemies-to-friends bonding character development arc without Bakugou ever even knowing lmao

So when one night, Bakugou comes over to heal Izuku’s wounds, he finds the League are already there taking care of him, and shenanigans ensue. Turns out, that Shigaraki guy is actually quite protective over that stupid nerd, like some sort of big brother, and the League do their own fair share of protective fussing, so Bakugou’s gotta learn to share it seems

[villagerain]

steeleidolon​:

Kunsel has always found listening easy–listening to what is said, how it is said, tenor and cadence, focusing in through a sea of discordant noise, either directly or indirectly. At the moment, all of this is in plain sight. No sense in trying to be surreptitious.

Curious as the tender is about the relation of the two questionable gentlemen seated at the bar, there are other patrons to attend. When she steps away, Kunsel arches a brow and looks right back to his attaché with a squint.

Measuring. Vaguely amused.

With a final yowl at the climax of his song, the drunk in the spotlight staggers over to the kiosk to choose another tune to butcher. Someone else ascends the stage to wrestle the microphone out of his hands, sparking a shrill of feedback, scuffle-thump-scuffle. Laughter erupts from the scattered parties at tables and booths at the possibility of violence (or embarrassment, there’s been plenty of that tonight).

“Hm. Nah, we’d find you a dumpster at the very least ‘cause you think I’m pretty,” Kunsel ventures with a smirk that just barely teases at a dimple.

Not that he believes that bit about the bugs.

It’s almost a game at this point. An arms race where the prize is a few spare scraps of privacy and dignity, humanity in a world stripped of it. Do the Turks often find themselves monitored within an inch of their lives?

“One hope, one prediction, one complaint. Could always get you some chamois knee pads so you’re dusting wherever you’re crawling around, eh?”

A sip of drink.

He holds it against his tongue, a bit of sublingual absorption. It burns, but that is all he feels.

There is no deadening of it. Of this. Of anything. Of his change of heart. Of course, he’s only just begun.

“Neh, wouldn’t be fun if it were easy. Any particular reason you’re gunning for shitfaced tonight, or is it just for fun?”

The overhead light strip reflects off the top rim of his glasses as Balto angles his head and glances sidelong at the ensuing chaos and microphone shriek on the stage with the barest grimace.

A positive development, no reserved opinions from him nor the crowd. 

The entirety of SOLDIER and its very foundations have imploded in the past few years. Whether to voice a complaint for the sake of it or merely to bolster his newfound standing, that hardly matters. Heidegger calls to replenish the armory. SOLDIER’s tenets, if they ever existed, are pushing daisies. SOLDIERs are still people at the end of the day. They have their various ideals, idiosyncrasies, inclinations. At times they are unstable. Something about the whole process, about the sort of person that can survive such an ordeal intact. Scouting mitigates risk, lowers the odds of breakage or death. Less time for that, now. Maybe instability is inescapable. 

His job is to figure out where exactly on that line Kunsel falls. Even if a bird can sing from its cage, there is nothing to stop it from plucking its own feathers.

“Those shafts are filthy, you know. I hate taking my suit in for dry cleaning. There’s complaint number two for you, since we’re keeping count.” Languid, lazy, Balto swirls the citrus-colorful contents of ethanol vice in its frosty vessel.  

Syrup soothes the bite as he sips. Balto smirks around the rim of his glass. “To lower your guard? To have a little fun? Why not both? I did just get upgraded from garbage can to dumpster.”

Time will do its work, one way or another. For euphoria and a mild slur to accompany his words, for human nature to take its course. It would be a lie to say Balto isn’t invested in the puzzle he has been tasked to solve.

“Karaoke nights are better with company.” An innocent remark. Maybe. He meets Kunsel’s eyes with latent curiosity. The last man standing. “Good company,” Balto clarifies, placing his drink down.

[adiabolikpastel]

Diabolik Lovers ~ Tormented Reverie ~ Yuuki's Prologue [part 1]

The more I love you,

the more I want to completely devour you.

If we were to become one,

will this thirst, this pain, be cured?

The closer I get, it feels as if

the distance to you keeps getting further.

It is as if you are a hazy mirage at the other end of the desert.

[Lord Ritchter]

☆+ ﾟ .+ .ﾟ.ﾟ｡ ﾟ ｡. +ﾟ ｡ﾟ.ﾟ｡☆｡｡ . ｡ o .｡ﾟ｡.o｡ ｡ .｡

A limousine slowly makes it's way up the graveled drive of a mansion, which looms against the night sky.

Yuuki emerges from the vehicle, it's driver and other occupant shrouded in the darkness. Thunder echoes in the distance, giving warning to an incoming storm.

Yuuki: (This is crazy... with all that just happened...

How can I be expected to stay here? And that man -)

Yuuki attempts to look back at the limo as she walks to the door, but it is no where to be seen.

(What is going on!?

Have I truly been abandoned here?)

Yuuki reluctantly knocks on the door.

Yuuki: ... Hello!!

Is anyone there-?

Yuuki knocks on the door again, after there is no answer.

Yuuki: Hello?

What is going on... it doesn't look like anyone is home.

I don't understand!

Why was I brought here!

-- flashback begins

Yuuki: Mother... who are they?

Mother: Yuuki, stay back!

You cannot take her!

A scuffle ensues with two large men, and Yuuki's mother. It's a blur, and ends abruptly with the sound of a gun firing.

Yuuki: Mom!

In the door way stands a single man, his face smudged out by the smoke of the gunshot.

Mysterious Man: Grab her - the final debt shall be settled tonight.

-- flashback ends

(What am I going to do...?

No one is going to come for me - but if I run...)

Rain starts to drizzle as Yuuki stands alone. She tries the door once more.

Yuuki: Excuse me!

I don't need to stay here but, if I could just get out of the rain.

Maybe there is another entrance?

Yuuki looks about and begins to walk away when the door creeps open.

Yuuki: -eep!

Startled, Yuuki stares at the door. When no one presents on the other side, she slowly opens it more. Welcoming herself into the seemingly deserted mansion.

Yuuki: U-Um...

I-I'm sorry for just coming in but... it started raining - and the door.

Hello...?

A man - I was brought here after my...

Is anyone home?

(Is there really no one here? But the door opened.

This is too creepy!)

Yuuki cautiously makes her way into, what appears to be, a sitting area.

Ahh... This is the worst...

(I wasn't able to grab anything before they took me.

Without a cell phone, I can't even call the police.

This is a kidnapping after all, right?

And what they did to mom too...)

Maybe I can find a phone in here-

Lightening strikes, illuminating the room. What was thought to be vacant, had one occupant. Laying on the far sofa, a body.

Yuuki: Kyaaaa!!

Yuuki screams, fleeing the room. Returning to the foyer, and attempts to leave. The door was closed once more, and bound shut.

Yuuki: No no no!

Let me out please!

I don't want to die!

This is a joke, right!?

I don't wanna be abandoned in a horror house!

???: Such an outburst!

Who is making all this noise?

A voice calls from atop the grand stair case. Yuuki turns, seeing a young man standing at the top. His face a soft glow from a candelabra.

Yuuki: I-I-I...!

???: Honestly, how did you enter this place?

???: What the hell-?

Who's making all that noise?

Can't a guy get any sleep around here?

Another voice nags from the other room. The body from before leans against the wall. As lighting flashes once more, all of the lighting in the mansion springs on as well.

Yuuki: KYAAAAA!

N-No no no no no

This is impossible! Insane!

Just let me go back out in the rain!

Yuuki crouches down, covering her ears and shutting her eyes.

???: Quit all that annoying whining.

Teddy and I just woke-up... Reiji make it stop.

???: Oh-ho~ I had thought that was a girls voice.

I wouldn't mind taking her back to my room, if no one wants to claim her.

As two new voices enter the room, a loud crashing sound echoes to through the sound of the rain. Yuuki looks around, seeing new faces with the other two.

???: This is no way to wake up - would all of you just shut up!

??? Oi!

Quit punching the walls!

I was the first to ask about this human, so I will be answered first.

???: Annoying... shut up both of you or I'll cut you into pieces.

???: So violent~

???: Huh!?

You just try it pipsqueak! You're no older brother of mine!

???: Enough all of you! Even my patients is wearing thin.

No one is 'taking her' until we find out why and how she came to be here.

Yuuki: (This is bad.

Like, really bad, right!?

Who are all of these guys?

What do they think they're going to do to me?)

???: In any case, tell us what brings you here.

-- To Be Continued --

[part two]