#I snorted with laughter at “I don't know. You might be incompetent.”

[littlesweetchurro]

Malfunctioned

Chapter 3

Bakugou slouched in his seat at the izakaya, scowling at his drink as if it had personally offended him. The noise of the crowded restaurant grated on his nerves, but it was marginally better than being alone with his anger.

He needed a drink and after the fucking week he had.

"I swear, there's not a single fucking useful person in this entire city," he growled, slamming his glass down on the table. The sudden movement caused Kirishima, who was sitting next to him to pick up his drink before it spilled.

"Whoa, man," Kirishima said, raising his hands. "What's got you so worked up this time?"

Bakugou's scowl deepened. "My fucking gauntlets. They're not working right, and I can't find anyone competent enough to fix them properly."

Mina leaned forward, her pink skin practically glowing in the dim light of the izakaya. "Have you tried the support company that made them originally?"

"Of course I fucking have," Bakugou snapped. "Those idiots couldn't find their ass with both hands and a map. They're the ones who fucked it up in the first place."

Sero chuckled and smiled. "Maybe you should design your own support gear, Bakugou. You're smart enough."

"I'm a hero, not a fucking tech nerd. That's what support companies are for, but apparently, they're all staffed by incompetent morons."

Denki, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, suddenly perked up. "Oh! What about that tech who worked on my support item? She did an amazing job with my wristband."

"What tech?"

"You know, the one from that small support company... Tech Nexus Solutions, I think?" Denki said, scratching his head. "She's really good. Fixed up my gear and even made some improvements I didn't know I needed."

Bakugou's eyebrows shot up, his interest piqued. He'd never admit it, but finding someone competent enough to work on his gear was becoming a real pain in the ass.

Mina's eyes sparkled as she leaned across the table. "Oh? And was this before or after you tried to sleep with her, Denki?"

The electric hero shrugged, smirking. "It didn't work. She's too professional. My charm had no effect on her."

Bakugou snorted. "What fucking charm?"

"Hey!" Denki protested, puffing out his chest. "I'll have you know I can get any woman into my bed!"

Sero burst out laughing, nearly choking on his drink. "Except tech girl, apparently!"

The table erupted in laughter, even Bakugou's lips twitching into something that might have been a smirk.

"Whatever," Denki grumbled, slumping in his seat. "She's still the best tech I've worked with. Seriously though, she's really talented. I've heard she's becoming pretty popular because of her work. It's kind of surprising she's still working for such a small company."

Bakugou' leaned back in his seat, trying to look uninterested. "So what's so great about this chick? She some kind of genius or something?"

Denki shook his head. "I don't know if I'd say genius, but she's definitely skilled. She completely redesigned the circuitry in my wristband to make it more efficient. And get this - she even added a feature that helps me control the direction of my electricity better. I didn't even know that was possible!"

If this tech was as good as Dunce Face claimed, maybe she could actually fix his gauntlets. But he wasn't about to get his hopes up just yet.

"What's her name?" he asked, trying to sound casual.

Denki furrowed his brow, thinking. "Uh... I can't remember her full name. But I know everyone just calls her by her first name. It's... damn, what was it?"

Mina giggled. "Wow, Denki, you really made an impression on her, huh?"

"Shut up," Denki grumbled. "I told you, it wasn't like that. She was just really focused on the work."

Bakugou's patience was wearing thin. "Oi, Pikachu, focus. What else do you know about her?"

"Well, she's got a reputation for being able to handle difficult clients. I heard she even managed to calm down Rubber Man when he was throwing a fit about his costume."

Bakugou snorted. Rubber Man was notorious for being a pain in the ass to work with. If this tech could handle him, maybe she'd be able to deal with his... particular communication style.

"She's also really innovative," Denki added. "Like, she doesn't just fix things, she improves them. Makes them work better with your quirk, you know?"

Bakugou nodded slowly. His gauntlets were good, but they could be better. If this tech was as skilled as Denki claimed, maybe she could take his gear to the next level.

"Anything else?" he pressed.

Kirishima raised an eyebrow at him. "You seem pretty interested, Bakugou. Thinking of giving her a shot with your gauntlets?"

Bakugou scowled. "I'm just gathering information, Shitty Hair. Don't read too much into it."

But the truth was, he was interested. More than interested. For the first time in weeks, he felt a glimmer of hope that his gear problems might actually be solved.

"Look," Denki said, pulling out his phone. "I don't remember her name, but I've got the contact info for Tech Nexus Solutions. Want me to send it to you?"

Bakugou hesitated for a moment, then nodded curtly. "Yeah, whatever. Might as well check it out."

As Denki tapped away on his phone, Bakugou tried to quash the spark of excitement building in his chest. He'd been disappointed too many times before to get his hopes up now. But still... if this tech was half as good as Dunce Face made her out to be, she might just be exactly what he needed.

His phone buzzed with the incoming message, and Bakugou found himself actually looking forward to making a call in the morning. 

You were in your own little world working on Rubber Man's support gear modifications when a knock at your workshop door pulled your attention away. Looking up, you saw Aiko Nakamura, the Director of Tech Development, standing in the doorway with an unreadable expression on her face.

That wasn't good.

"Got a minute?" she asked, her tone serious.

Oh shit, definitely not good. Had you done something wrong? Had you messed up? Your stomach turned. Oh God, were you about to get fired? Did you have to cancel all your subscriptions? Put a pin on your emotional shopping habits?

You nodded, setting aside your tools. "Of course, what's up?"

Nakamura stepped inside, closing the door behind her. "I've got some news that's going to change things around here." She paused, building the suspense. "Dynamight is coming to Tech Nexus. And he's asked for you specifically."

Okay, good news, you were not getting fired today!

Wait- what did she say?

Your eyes widened, your heart rate picking up. "Dynamight? Like the number two hero?" Wait what?! "And he asked for me? Why?"

Nakamura shrugged. "Apparently, he's heard about your work. Your reputation precedes you."

You smiled. Working with Dynamight would be a massive opportunity, but it wasn't the hero himself that excited you. "His gauntlets," you breathed, your mind already racing with possibilities. "They're a marvel of engineering. The way they store and amplify his quirk is nothing short of genius."

Nakamura nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. "I thought you might say that. But I have to warn you, Dynamight isn't exactly known for being... easy to work with."

"I can handle difficult clients. You've seen me with Rubber Man."

"This is different," Nakamura cautioned. "Dynamight has a reputation for being... explosive, both literally and figuratively. He's driven three support techs to quit in the past year alone."

"Is that supposed to scare me off? Because it's having the opposite effect."

Nakamura chuckled. "I had a feeling you'd say that. Just... be prepared. This isn't just about you, you know. Landing Dynamight as a client would be a major win for Tech Nexus. We're talking increased visibility, more high-profile contracts, the works."

Right no pressure, no room for fuck ups.

All you had to do was suck it up and get your hands on those amazing gauntlets.

Simple, easy.

Your smile widened.

"I won't let you down," you promised. And you wouldn't. Not when you knew a chance to work with equipment like this came once in a life time. Even if that opportunity came attached to a blonde bomb.

"I know you won't," Nakamura said, smiling. "Dynamight will be here tomorrow afternoon. I suggest you start preparing."

As soon as Nakamura left, you sprang into action. You cleared your workbench, pushing Rubber Man's gear to the side. Screw him and his flexible limbs. This was too important to let anything else distract you.

You pulled up every bit of information you could find on Dynamight's gauntlets. You pored over schematics, material specifications, and performance data, your mind whirling with ideas for potential improvements.

The gauntlets were indeed a work of art, but you could already see areas where they could be refined. The nitroglycerin storage system could be more efficient, the ignition mechanism more responsive. You scribbled notes furiously, your excitement growing with each passing minute.

You barely noticed as the hours ticked by, your focus entirely on preparing for Dynamight's arrival. You reviewed footage of his recent battles, analyzing how he used his support gear in combat situations. You made lists of questions to ask, eager to delve into the nitty-gritty details of his equipment.

As night fell, you realized you hadn't eaten since lunch. Your stomach growled in protest, but you ignored it, too engrossed in your preparations to care about something as trivial as food.

You pulled up Dynamight's hero file, studying his quirk specifications and battle statistics. The raw power he wielded was staggering, and you found yourself marveling at the technical challenges his quirk presented. How to harness that explosive force without compromising safety or mobility? It was a delicious puzzle, one you couldn't wait to sink your teeth into.

You were so absorbed in your work that you didn't notice your coworkers leaving for the day, or the cleaning staff coming and going. It wasn't until the first rays of dawn began to peek through the windows that you realized you'd pulled an all-nighter.

Stretching, you felt a mix of exhaustion and exhilaration. Your desk was covered in notes, sketches, and half-formed ideas. You'd done all you could to prepare, and now all that was left was to meet the man himself.

And his beautiful gauntlets.

As you gathered your things to head home for a quick shower and change of clothes, a small part of you wondered if you were in over your head. Dynamight's reputation was intimidating, to say the least. But then you looked at the schematics of his gauntlets, at the notes you'd made, and your confidence returned.

You could handle Dynamight. You were sure of it. After all, you weren't some starstruck fan or easily cowed technician. You were a professional, damn good at your job, and more than ready for this challenge.

As you left the office, the rising sun painting the sky in shades of orange and pink, you couldn't help but smile. Today was going to be interesting, to say the least. And you couldn't wait to get started.

[just-absolutely-super]

The First Crack

@soulxmakaweek

Day 4, Laughter featuring baby (and by baby I mean they’re, like, 12) SoMa. Enjoy!

Summary: It was the first time she had ever heard him laugh like that... Maka, Soul, and a kitchen mishap

FF.net // AO3

Maka had only known Soul for a week and she was thoroughly convinced he was emotionally constipated.

Seriously, the only form of raw human emotion she saw out of him came in the form of his playing the piano. It was like he had opened a window into his soul, one she had peered eagerly into and accepted wholeheartedly. But then he had decided that she couldn't see any more and firmly shut the window before nailing a bunch of two-by-fours to it, making him impossible to read again.

It didn't help that all their interactions afterwards were in the form of arguments. She'd try to get to know her new partner only for him to make scathing, teasing comments about her appearance and her affliction for reading books. This would cause her to lose her temper, leading to a chop before they'd go back to their respective rooms to do their own thing.

It was rather frustrating. She wondered if all boys were like that. She dismissed that thought, though, when she remembered the other men in her life: her father and Black Star.

Her father had no trouble expressing himself. He often wore his heart on his sleeve (as well as a different woman every day), sobbing big fat tears whenever his darling daughter gave him the cold shoulder. Meanwhile, Black Star spent most of his time crowing about how awesome he was and how he'd surpass God while Professor Sid yelled at him to get off the school's roof before he hurt himself.

No, she deduced that all boys weren't as opposed toward expressing themselves. It must just be a Soul Eater thing.

She could have tried harder to get to know him, but her mother often told her that partnerships were so fragile during the beginning stages. Even if you clicked right away, there was always that risk of things becoming strained and awkward the more you got to know each other. The best plan of action was to always go slow and to not force yourselves on each other.

Maka didn't want to try and search for a new partner—one who was a scythe at least—so she hung herself back and allowed Soul to be his moody, closed-off self. If things worked in her favor, he'd open up to her sooner or later…

"Hey, Mama sent me a blender as a housewarming gift. I'm gonna make a smoothie, do you want one?" she asked him one afternoon, poking her head in his room.

Soul was in bed lying on his stomach, some magazine in his hands. He lifted his head up to acknowledge her, "Yeah, sure. You got strawberries?"

Maka nodded, "Of course! I'll let you know when I'm done."

Soul gave a grunt in reply as Maka bounced into the kitchen. She was excited. Excited because not only was she going to try out her newest appliance, but she and Soul would have another reason to bond with each other. Sure, it may end up as them drinking their cold drinks in the living room while aimlessly flipping channels, but it was better than nothing. Maka liked to think of the glass half-full during these occasions.

After setting the blender up, Maka hummed as she brought the ingredients onto the counter. Following the recipe she had looked up at the library, Maka put everything in the jar. Placing the lid onto the jar, she eagerly pressed the start button…only for nothing to happen.

"Huh?" she said, turning every which way to figure out why the appliance wasn't working. She thought she had everything in place. It should turn on!

After fiddling with it for a while with no results, she got frustrated. She yelled out, "Soul! Could you come in here and help me?"

"What's the matter?" she heard him ask from his bedroom.

"I can't get the blender to come on."

"Are you serious?" he complained. She heard his heavy footsteps. "It's a blender, Maka. It's not like they're hard to use."

She pouted at him when he rounded the corner into the kitchen, "I know that! But I can't get it to turn on!"

Soul rolled his eyes, "Move aside. Let me look at it."

He inspected it. She watched him take the lid off of the jar to look inside, probably making sure nothing was jamming the blades if Maka had to guess. Deducing that the blades were fine, he detached the jar from the base and set it on the counter before picking the base up to examine it. Maka was thankful he had done that; she didn't want to worry about him accidentally spilling the contents of their smoothie onto the floor. After a brief moment, he placed the appliance back on the counter before turning to his meister.

"Found the problem. It's battery operated. You didn't put the batteries in, genius." He said, letting out a chuff at her incompetence.

Maka flushed in embarrassment. She was torn between hiding her face in shame and punching that infuriating smirk off his face.

"I… I thought they were already put in!" she defended.

Soul snorted, "Obviously not." He checked the box Maka had opened when she received the package from her mother. "Oh good, your mom included some batteries. Let me install them then we can work it."

Maka watched him place the batteries in, her cheeks still burning from the shame of making an utter fool of herself in front of her weapon. She hoped this didn't give him second thoughts about agreeing to partner up with her.

"Alright, here we go," she heard Soul say. She looked back to him and saw he was about to hit the "on" button. What she also noticed was in his hurry to make smoothies he had forgotten to put the lid back on the jar.

"W-Wait, Soul! Don't—"

Too late. Soul pressed the button and Maka watched his red eyes widen comically at the realization of what he had just done. Both weapon and meister squealed in shock as the contents of what would have been their fruity drinks exploded over them and their kitchen.

"Shut it off! Shut it off!" Maka screamed, running over to the boy.

"I'm trying! I'm trying!" Soul screamed back, strawberry and yogurt and whatever else had gotten into his eyes, clouding his vision and inhibiting him from hitting the correct button.

"Let me!" she said, forcing the appliance closer to her and managing to find the "off" button. She sighed in relief at hearing the whirling blades die down.

"Man, so uncool!" Soul groaned, running a hand through his hair and grimacing in disgust when it came back covered in pink goop.

Maka blinked at his appearance. The pink tinge of the smoothie and random chunks of strawberry worked really well with his white hair. It practically dyed it. Before she could stop herself she gave an unattractive snort before bursting into uncontrollable giggles.

Soul scowled at her, watching as his meister leaned forward in laughter.

"It's. Not. Funny." He growled.

Maka said in between giggles, "Oh…yes it…is! Hahaha, you look ridiculous!"

"Yeah, like you're any better!" he fired back, gesturing to her own smoothie-covered appearance.

"Yeah, well…" giggle, "at least my hair isn't pink now. You look so uncool!" she then fell onto the floor. The comment might have been mean, but after a week of hearing him call her breasts tiny, it felt like a breath of fresh air to make fun of him for a change.

"We'll see about that…" she heard her weapon say. Maka stopped her giggling upon hearing the underlying threat in his words. Looking up to him, she saw he had a maniacal grin on his face, a handful of pink goop in his hands.

"Soul Eater, don't you dare—" Maka's attempt to threaten him turned into a squeal of shock as Soul dived onto her to rub strawberry smoothie into her pigtails.

"Who's got the pink hair now, huh?" Soul taunted, making sure to slather the chunks of strawberries onto her face for good measure.

"You are DEAD!" with a battle cry, Maka tackled Soul.

The two wrestled each other on the kitchen floor, using whatever they could find among the mess as their ammunition. Various noises coming out of their mouths—screaming, threats of bodily harm, and most of all, laughter.

The laughter was mostly consuming them, to the point they disentangled themselves from their brawl to spread themselves out onto the floor. Maka was clutching her stomach as her sides were starting to hurt.

"Ceasefire, ceasefire!" she pleaded, her guffaws too much for her.

"I can't believe I forgot to put the lid on!" Soul said, "That's like…the number one rule of a blender. You'd have to be a stupid cartoon character to make that mistake! And now I'm covered in all this crap!"

He then turned onto his side as he broke into more infectious laughter. Maka would have joined him if she weren't overcome by a sudden revelation.

This was the first time she had ever heard Soul laugh.

Sure, he would snicker at a crude joke Black Star would tell him, or chuckle if he heard a funny joke on television, but as for genuine bone-deep laughter? This was definitely the first.

She just marveled at the site. His sharp teeth fully on display; his deep red eyes closed tight, crinkling at the edges in his mirth; and if she looked closely, she could see tears forming in the corners because he was laughing so hard.

He looked so natural and carefree. Like he didn't have the world's biggest chip on his shoulder. Like he wasn't worrying about how he looked or presented in front of others.

He looked…happy.

"Hey, what's with that look on your face?" his voice drew her out of her musings. He was trying to glare at her, but it was offset by his still present grin, "If you think I look bad, you should see yourself, nerdbrain."

Maka stuck her tongue out at him, "I wasn't staring!" (She ignored how unconvincing that sounded.), "I was just thinking about what a pain this was going to be to clean up, is all!"

Soul sighed, rolling onto his back again before cringing as more of the smoothie substance seeped into his shirt. "Yeah, that's gonna suck… Well, I'll let you take care of it. I'm gonna hop in the shower."

Maka gave an indignant noise, "Oh no you don't! You're the one who caused the mess, I get the shower while you clean up!"

"It wasn't my idea to make the smoothies!" he shot back.

"Well, I'm a lady and ladies go first!"

Soul snorted, "Funny, I thought 'ladies' had more sex appeal—"

"MAKA CHOP!"

"OUCH!"

While Soul nursed his aching head, Maka used the opportunity to run to the bathroom. "I'll help once I'm done showering. Then you can shower and I'll finish what you started!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever…" she heard him grumble as she grabbed some clean clothes and shut the door.

As she peeled off her stained clothing, she thought she heard more of his distinct laughter from his place in the kitchen. She felt herself smile.

It may take some time, but she felt hopeful that she could crack the sturdy exterior that was Soul's metaphorical walls.

Hopefully it wouldn't take too many mistakes and messes for that to happen…

[just-abnormal-human]

Mad Men, Madgods

Words: 1280

Rating: Teen for language and mild gore

Description: A TES: Oblivion au fic in which @powerovernothing‘s Korbin gets pulled into Naiadel’s timeline of events. Sheogorath really messed up this time!

How long had it been since the fight with Jyggalag ended? His defeat sent a ripple through the Shivering Isles; things weren’t quite right. People were where they shouldn’t be, things seemed to blink in and out of reality. Time, material, the aether, they were all in flux. In the middle of it, Naiadel stood, somewhat woozy, the blood of a daedric prince flowing in his veins.

This… isn’t what he was supposed to do. Maybe. It’s so hard to remember Nirn when he’s in the Isles. Martin is waiting for him. He should…

“Martin…!”

Naiadel’s mouth moved, but the name fell from lips that were not his in a voice unfamiliar to him. He took a few steps, turning, looking for the source.

Where he had been not a second before stood a human man. The man was similar to Naiadel, he could feel it, but oh so different.

The man wore the same shrouded armor as Naiadel, but there the visible similarities stopped. He towered over Naiadel's slight Bosmer frame. He looked like he hadn't had a good night's rest in all his life, distress painted across his features. He looked no older than his mid thirties, but his tangled hair and unkempt scruff were grey. His wide eyes, puffy and irritated by recent tears, shone gold, rippling like the rest of the Isles.

A smile creeped across Naiadel's face. This could be fun.

“Where… Am I still here? No, no, I was supposed to go back, why—” the words tumbled out of the man's mouth, each more panicked than the last. “You!” He looked now at Naiadel, “You weren't here before. Who are you?”

“That depends who's asking. What do you want with Martin?”

The man didn't answer, but a scream bubbled in his throat and he grabbed at his head and squeezed his eyes shut as though in pain. He suddenly lunged at Naiadel, grabbing for the shawl of Naiadel's armor. Naiadel blinked aside— teleportation? What other powers had he gained with Jyggalag's defeat? — and the man stumbled, grasping at air.

“You can't fool me!” the man cried, “You're him, you're… part of him, and we had a deal! You said we would go back, I was going to save Martin—”

Naiadel's smile dropped and he nocked an arrow. “What do you mean ‘save Martin’?”

“You, you don't…” the man paused and caught his breath. “You should know all this, if you're Sheogorath. We made a deal, I stop the Greymarch, you give me another chance so I can do it right, save Martin, and Lucien, all of them.”

A shockwave knocked both men off their feet. Naiadel gasped. The ripples had stopped; the Shivering Isles were stable again. All at once Naiadel was struck by the power, the madness of his role, and it was now he who screamed.

Gods, it was like everything he had felt hit him at once and then some. Tears flooded his eyes as he re-lived every sorrow and joy in his life. He couldn’t breathe through the pressure in his chest and the pit in his gut, couldn’t move through the tension in his body.

The change, the beast that came when emotion took over, it reared its fearsome head with no warning. Naiadel’s bones creaked and snapped with the force of it, his skin bleeding as fur was forced out. He did not stop screaming, but his screams became broken, monstrous as his body grew and warped. Everything hurt, but bloodlust drowned out the pain.

The screaming wolf-beast ran, leaving one distraught man alone to process the past several minutes of his life.

~~~

Naiadel awoke, as he often did after transforming, in a bloodstained field, sore but deeply satisfied. He was somewhere in Mania, based on the vegetation, and dawn was breaking. He glowered, chastising himself for the use of that phrase. Shaking his head, he heaved himself into a sitting position and found himself facing a shadowy, rocky outcropping, under which a human figure was slumped, alive.

Naiadel tilted his head, curious. His eyes adjusted to the shadows, and he identified the figure as the man who had appeared the day before. He picked up a small stone from nearby and threw it at the man, hitting him squarely on the cheekbone. The figure lurched upright with a great snort and a loud string of curses. Naiadel snickered and picked up another stone. He threw just as the man spotted him, this time hitting the forehead. This time the figure grabbed his sword and stood sharply, hitting his head hard on the overhang above. He dropped the sword and fell to his knees with its hands on its head.

“GOD DAMN IT!” the man shouted.

Naiadel broke into a fit of laughter. The man glowered at him, apparently defeated. As his laughter faded, Naiadel cleared his throat and said, “You tracked me down, so you must really need me. You have a name?”

“It’s Korbin.”

“A pleasure. I’m Naiadel, avatar of Sheogorath, defeater of Jyggalag and stopper of the Greymarch.”

Korbin, still rubbing his head with one hand, furrowed his brow in confusion. “You sure about that? Last I heard, I’m Sheogorath’s champion, and I killed Jyggalag.”

Silence fell between them, neither quite sure what to say. Naiadel crossed his legs and plucked a piece of grass and placed it between his lips as he considered the situation.

“Well, things got… strange after Jyggalag left the Isles,” Naiadel said, staring more into space than at Korbin. “You said Sheogorath was going to… ‘send you back.’ Perhaps in doing so, rather than bringing you to your destination, he landed you here. But where—” Naiadel stopped abruptly, the grass falling from his lips. “You need to tell me what you meant by saving Martin.”

“I-I meant the late Emperor Martin,” Korbin said, “I can save him, or I could, if I hadn’t gotten stuck here.”

“Well, I’m not sure what ‘here’ is to you, but if Martin is going to die and you can stop it, then I must insist you come with me.”

“Martin’s alive? Then, maybe it worked!” Korbin picked up his sword again and stood, careful not to hit his head again.

“Not so, if Lucien Lachance was a part of your deal,” Naiadel said, stretching out to lay on his side. It hurt to remember, but Korbin’s look of shock and pain was delicious enough to make up for it. “There’s some timeline-crossing nonsense going on here, if you couldn’t tell. Some things are going to be the same, some aren’t.”

Korbin scanned the ground as he walked, mouthing silent words, as though having a conversation only he could hear. “What went wrong?” he finally whispered.

“So, are we going?” Naiadel asked, growing impatient as he considered what danger Martin might be in.

“Yeah, alright, fine. If Martin’s alive, and you’re sure he is, right?”

“He’d fucking better be,” Naiadel snapped as he stood. “I did not deal with Jauffre’s hassling and accusations for a year just to have his incompetence kill Martin as soon as I leave.”

“Uh, right. Martin’s alive, so we can at least save him. But, before we go anywhere, are you planning on doing that whole… werewolf, screaming, slaughtering thing again any time soon?”

“We’ll just have to see, won’t we?” Naiadel bared his teeth, revealing bloodstained fangs. He chuckled when Korbin took half a step back. “By the Nine, you people make it too easy. Come here, we’ve got work to do.”

Naiadel clasped his hand around Korbin’s forearm, and Korbin hesitantly did the same to him. Suddenly, they were gone, not a blade of grass disturbed.