#Parking slot display system

[parkomax]

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[cranberrymoons]

same old lang syne

prompt: snow (@steddieholidaydrabbles) word count: 1,000 rated: t tags: angst, open ending, post-breakup (like years and years) – aka the existentialism of running into your ex in the grocery store at christmas notes: title from earth's saddest christmas song – same old lang syne

welcome to Day 21 of the fic advent calendar – bite-sized fics posting every day during the month of december. enjoy!

He’s standing in front of the avocado display, contemplating life and guacamole when he feels a hand land on his shoulder from behind.

“Steve?” 

He jumps, sucking in a sharp breath as he turns around, blinking at the face of the man standing a few feet away, who’s staring at him with wide eyes and a little smile. It’s so unexpected that he almost doesn’t recognize him, which is insane, because –

“Eddie,” he says. He shakes his head, letting out a little laugh. “Oh my god.”

Eddie’s face relaxes into a smile, and he holds out an arm for a hug. Steve returns it, feels his hand settle over his back in that place where he always used to hold him, slotting together warm and solid and familiar in spite of how long it’s been. 

They’ve always fit like this, together. Without even trying, they just fit.

“How are you?” he asks, pulling away before his throat can get too tight. “What are you doing here?”

There’s a lingering whiff of Eddie’s cologne clinging to his collar, and he tries not to focus on it too much. Tries not to let it draw his attention away from the way Eddie’s eyes are raking over him, his hair as wild as ever where it’s pulled back from his face. The trim cut of his leather jacket and the shine of his shoes, the soft hint of lines around his mouth.

“Just visiting,” he says, gesturing over his shoulder at nothing. “Christmas. Wayne.” He holds up the thing in his hand, which is a block of butter. “Baking cookies.”

Steve lets out a little laugh. “Nice,” he says. He holds up his basket. “Um. Same – just, parents, you know.”

And it’s been… how long? Almost ten years since they’ve seen each other. It feels a little awkward, a little weird, a little – something, but Eddie’s smile is still there on his face same as ever, and Steve’s heart gives a wet little thwump in his chest.

“Hey, uh –” Eddie clears his throat, scratches the back of his neck. “You want to grab a drink or something? Catch up?”

---

It’s Hawkins, Indiana, at 8 PM on Christmas Eve, so they predictably don’t find an open bar, but they head back to the store for a six pack and sit with it in Steve’s rental car.

It’s snowing outside, big soft flakes falling from the sky and gathering on the windshield, but he doesn’t turn on the wipers to clear it away, and neither of them comments on the fact that it was snowing like this back then too, the last time they saw each other. 

Steve’s thinking about it, though. He thinks Eddie probably is too, judging by the faraway look in his eye as he stares out the window and takes a sip of his beer. The radio is playing softly in the background, a cheery Christmas song that makes Steve feel a little like sticking his fist through the whole stereo system. The snow makes everything else outside the car feel muted and gentle, like the whole world is holding them close. 

“So how’s the–”

“What’ve you been–”

They both speak at the same time, then break off with matching embarrassed laughs. It seems to unwind some of the tension between them though, and Eddie smiles at him in the glow coming from the lights of the grocery store parking lot.

“How have you been?” he asks, turning so his back is pressed to the door, facing Steve as much as he can in the tight little space. “Where are you living now?”

“Yeah, good,” Steve says. He feels the corner of his mouth twist down. “For a while, you know. Chicago, sort of. I got married?”

“Oh, that’s–” Eddie’s eyes go a little wide, darting down to stare at his ring finger, which is empty. “Great?”

Steve lets out a quiet little sound, tilting his head to the side. “It was for a while.”

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says. “Was he – or…”

“She,” Steve says. He clears his throat. “She’s great. Just– you know. Deserved better than me.”

A little line appears between Eddie’s eyebrows, and one of his hands reaches out then stops an inch away from landing on top of Steve’s. He hesitates there for a minute, like he’s not sure if it’s okay, and Steve’s eyes drop away from his face to stare down at it. 

He lifts one of his fingers, just enough that it grazes against the underside of Eddie’s palm, warm and soft, tracing a little pattern there until he draws Eddie’s hand down into his. His throat is tight, eyes hot and pricking at the corners, and he blinks a few times to clear it, eyes lifting back to Eddie’s face.

“And you?” he asks as Eddie’s hand settles in his. It feels safe there, like it’s never left. “Are you…”

“For a while,” Eddie says. “Not– you know, not married or anything, but just… seeing people. Dating. And then touring a lot and just– you know how it goes.”

And Steve doesn’t really, but he nods anyway, a little smile playing out over his face. 

“That’s right,” he says. “The band’s– I mean, congrats. You guys are doing really well.”

“The band is doing really well,” Eddie says, nodding slowly. His eyes are shining a little, and he sniffs, blinking back to Steve’s face. “I miss you.”

Steve lets out a little sound. “Don’t.”

“I do,” Eddie says. He shakes his head again, and Steve can feel it too, vision going blurry with it. “Every day. I fucked up.”

“You didn’t.”

“I did,” he says. “I never should’ve let you go.”

“It was the right–” 

But Steve cuts himself off, because he was going to say the right choice, which is what he’s been telling himself ever since it happened. But he doesn’t actually believe that. He never has. 

He takes a breath.

“I miss you too.”

[also on ao3]

[bonefall]

I think the most pertinent, fundamental question to ask at this point is: How canon do we want to make the 1981 musical Cats by Andrew Lloyd Webber to Better Bones? Since you've done so fantastically well at fleshing out alternate but no-less-viable systems of belief, that door has been left wiiiide open. Stripped of the zany dance numbers and stage actors in copious makeup, you can't deny that the underlying Jellicle cat religion / Heavyside Layer wouldn't be out of place. Don't lie to us. Don't you dare.

We don't know when the musical takes place, but as for where, the Jellicle Cats and their religion are centralized in a junkyard somewhere in London. Depending on how far their area of influence extends, there could be a few cats in a sect or two of BloodClan who practice the faith of a land to the south, or otherwise believe in the existence of the Heavyside Layer. Or say, the junkyard is done away with in the late 90's and a diaspora of Jellicle Cats spreads across the land. Their descendants hope one day to make the pilgrimage for one last ball, and are invariably seen as Rather Offputting by everyone. (In-story it'd all amount to rare sequiturs from a nameless extra or two which increase in probability the further one heads south.)

Hey bonefall hey, do you think Skyclan has a word for this? It'd be a corruption of the English "dear little [cats], of which "Jellicle" is a romanization. How would you say Jellicle with Clanmew pronunciation?

You can't run from this forever.

Stripped of the zany musical numbers and stage actors in copious makeup??? What are you, Tom Hooper?!

If you're going to put the Jellicles in the BB Universe, you fucking BETTER be taking inspiration from the cancelled 1997 Steven Spielberg animated musical adaptation which places the cats in postwar London sometime circa 1945 and implied that the cats had heavily cultural emphasis on song, dance, and performance

Which btw would place Grizabella's Jellicle Ball pretty firmly in the Code Era of my adaptation (built around the canonical tidbit that Turtle Tail was hit by a Ford Model T meaning the Dawn Era was pre-war).

It would be before the main Warrior cast is born (Except Holly due to infamous Time Travel Shenanigans)-- but Jellicles, after all, were there when the Sphinx was built, so it's safe to assume they'd still be around in the future as a cultural group.

Really the biggest barrier is that they live in bloodbourne London. Too far southeast to communicate with Clan cats or even BloodClan, who are northwest. Park Cats are from further south, but no further south than Gloucestershire at most.

So, serious answer, they can absolutely be canon in this universe, or at the very least they can be slotted in easily. I built a brand new religion system exactly to accommodate the existence of multiple cultural groups and honor the afterlives of each.

In fact, Jellicles fit perfectly into it.

They have a heaven (Heavyside Layer) but no hell, exactly the way that a "vanilla" type religion can form on its own. Really there's just one question-- what's their leader power?

Old Deuteronomy...

Is said to have lived many lives in succession (possible continual reincarnation?)

May choose the next cat to ascend to the Heavyside Layer (immediate patronification?)

But at the same time, there are some cats who seem to display magical powers, akin to the Sister's power distribution system. Mr. Mistoffelees is one, able to perform simple magical tricks. As far as I remember, there are two.

Conjuration (Ability to change the location of an object in space)

Levitation

These both seem like versions of the same power, really. It makes sense, too, that culturally they would value agility to the point of veneration. It ties into dancing, avoiding cars and dogs, stealing things.

In any case though-- you begin to lose these sorts of abilities the further you go from a group, without some kind of token. The Sisters are the example I've written so far; Tree needs some kind of item in order to see ghosts when he's not near the rest of the Sisters. The Jellicles are also a pretty proud group, I can't see them making these "tokens" for any old wanderer.

So maybe there's just a few of them, and Macavity has one stolen?

hmmmm... Maybe those reincarnations have to do with who's supposed to Hold The Token, and Old Doot has basically been one of them for eons. Maybe Mistoffelees was the most recent reincarnation from the Jellicle Ball?

Anyway TL;DR yeah Jellicle cats can exist in Better Bones, they're just too far away to interact with Clan cats.

Clanmew pronunciation of Jellicle = "Shewakl"

[moss-selfship]

Day 5 Confession

“Re-initiating data bank scans for possible emotional irregularity, i must have made an error” Robofortune ran subroutine and scans over and over as her and her new companion traveled along the sidewalk in the park of new meridian. Ever since the strange man named Mort had entered her existence, she had felt…different. She was a machine, created by the brilliant Dr. Brain Drain. Her purpose was to outperform the feline thief ms fortune. She was to be his greatest creation, he had built her with his best parts and uploaded countless hours of combat research into her systems to make her the perfect fighting machine. Granted he had also uploaded countless cat videos and internet memes into her systems on accident as well but he viewed it as simply making her authentic.  Sure he hated her memes and puns but he still believed she was his perfect creation. So when this stranger came into her existence, robofortune at first paid him no attention. He was seemingly a simple human that accompanied her on her task to hunt down the life gem. However she had miscalculated severely, this was no normal man and she had only begun to realize it when programs in her processor seemingly stopped making sense and her lightning fast processing had started to become erratic and random at times. She had begun to start running programs that she knew the Dr had not programmed into her. Each time she had looked at this man she felt her internal temperature rising, her motherboard would feel scrambled and all she could picture in her visor were small pictures of little cats with hearts around them. She tested her systems over and over and over, and yet each time she couldn't reach an answer that was 100% correct until finally it all pieced together. “Mort…may I speak for a moment?” Robofortune spoke, her vocal box feeling almost shaky as if she was struggling to talk. The man in the suit turned to look at her. “Of course lass, what is it?” He asked, she could tell he seemed concerned and was looking over her. Something about him looking over her with care and concern made her cooling fans whir faster than ever and she could feel her circuits going wild. “When I first met you my program was to find the life gem and defeat the feline thief, it was what I was created for and my sole design. Between the  various feline memes and internet lingo my reason for existing was taking the soul gem….but ever since i met you, i feel…different.” She placed her hand on her metallic chest where her mechanical heart thrummed. “I have begun experiencing errors and glitches that i have never felt before, my systems heat up so much faster when I look at you. I am having EXE files run in my cpu that were never programmed in me. I am beginning to learn and experience unlike an AI the Dr has ever created…i have started to feel…like my own being..like i am MY own person..i feel like i have something to fight for, a REASON to fight..i believe i have gained sentience beyond what my creator designed..and ive run diagnostics over and over and over..scanning all of my emotional programs and i have realized i am constantly running an EXE program that was not there to begin with….i believe it i am running LOVE.EXE!” She exclaimed loudly! Tossing her hands up as pink and red confetti fired out of the slots and rained down, pink hearts displayed on her eye visors. Mort stared at her eyes wide, his pale face tinted red as he  softly smiled. “I love you to my little robot” Mort said softly, taking her hand, placing a soft kiss on her metal hand. Robofortune stared down at her hand. Suddenly mort could hear her internal fans going at max and see her eyes blue screen as she stared at her hand as the error sound played. “ROBOFORTUNE.EXE HAS STOPPED WORKING, INTERNAL PROCESSORS OVERHEATED! Please do not dunk me in water to cool down!” Mort couldnt help but chuckle as he waited for his new lover to reset. this one i finished at like 3am so technically its day six but i worked late so sue me prompt and credits here!

[mikelsons07]

Transforming the Road Trip: The Benefits of Electric Vehicles for Long-Distance Travel and Tips for Enjoying Your Trip

Electric vehicles (EVs) are leading the road travel revolution. As worries about climate change and fossil fuel reliance mount, more long-distance travelers are using EVs. These automobiles are environmentally friendly and include road trip-enhancing amenities. Learn why electric vehicle road trip are ideal for long-distance travel and how to maximize your trip.

The environmental advantage is a major motivation to use an electric car on your next road trip. EVs emit zero tailpipe emissions, lowering air pollution and carbon impact. This dedication to sustainability is attracting more travelers who want to enjoy their trips while being environmentally friendly.

Beyond their environmental benefits, electric cars are quiet and smooth, improving long-distance comfort. EVs with huge infotainment displays, clever navigation systems, and integrated applications to discover charging stations make travel more pleasurable. These devices may optimize your route by scheduling charging stops to ensure a full charge at your destination.

Planning is essential when driving long distances in an electric car. Many highways now have fast-charging facilities. However, you must plan your route and find recharge stations. Find charging stations, monitor real-time availability, and book slots using PlugShare or ChargePoint. This proactive technique maximizes journey time and reduces range anxiety.

Combining recharge breaks with sightseeing might enrich your road trip. You may stretch your legs and discover local culture while your car charges at several charging stations near restaurants, parks, and tourist sites. Please take advantage of charging pauses by researching fascinating sites to visit along your route and turning them into mini-adventures.

Take advantage of regenerative braking in most electric cars when driving. This technique recharges the battery while driving, improving efficiency and range. By driving more efficiently, you may improve your car's performance and ride.

Join the electric car community while traveling. Online, EV owners exchange advice and experiences, forming a traveling community. Forums and social media groups can help you find the best routes, charging stations, and attractions, making your trip more pleasurable.

Finally, electric cars are sustainable and great for long-distance travel. With a little organization and a willingness to try new things, your road trip may be as fun as ever. Technology, discovering new areas during charging breaks, and engaging with the EV community may transform your road trip and make it a great experience. Pack your luggage, charge your car, and embark on an exciting, eco-friendly journey.

[apexsalaesarena]

7/5 Inch Car GPS Navigation Touch Screen 256MB+8G HD Car GPS Navigator EU AU US FM Vehicle GPS Navigators Automotive Accessories

Are you tired of getting lost on your road trips or daily commutes? Say goodbye to navigation woes with our feature-packed 7/5 Inch Car GPS Navigator. Whether you're cruising through Europe, North America, Australia, or beyond, this GPS navigator is your trusty travel companion. Let's delve into its incredible features and why it's the ultimate choice for your journeys.

Key Features:

- Versatile Vehicle Modes: This GPS navigation system offers seven different vehicle modes, ensuring accurate guidance for cars, trucks, bicycles, buses, ambulances, taxis, and even pedestrians. It's a one-size-fits-all solution for your transportation needs. - Advanced Navigation Features: Enjoy 2D/3D view options, postcode and address search, and easy access to points of interest like petrol stations, parking areas, restaurants, and accommodations. Never miss a beat with seamless navigation. - Reliable GPS Signal Reception: Bid farewell to signal dropouts, thanks to advanced technology that quickly locks onto GPS satellite signals, providing you with a stable and uninterrupted connection. - Up-to-Date Maps: Stay on the right path with 2023 pre-installed maps and free updates. You'll always have the most current information at your fingertips. - Enhanced Audio Experience: With a built-in Hi-fi speaker and FM transmission function, enjoy crystal-clear navigation voice prompts and music through your car's speakers. Stay safe with intelligent voice assistance that also keeps you aware of speed limits.

When to Use It:

Our Car GPS Navigator is your go-to companion for every journey: - Plan efficient routes for your daily commute. - Navigate unfamiliar cities and regions while traveling. - Truck drivers can benefit from the dedicated truck mode, offering route information tailored to your vehicle's size and weight. - Enjoy multimedia functionality during long drives, including music, videos, photos, and e-books.

What Makes It Special:

Our Car GPS Navigator stands out for its versatility, accuracy, and multimedia capabilities. It's not just a GPS device; it's your entertainment hub on the road. Plus, its compatibility with various vehicle types ensures it meets all your transportation needs. Whether you're exploring the streets of Europe, embarking on a cross-country adventure in North America, or navigating the Australian Outback, this GPS navigator will guide you with precision. Choose the smarter way to travel. Get your 7/5 Inch Car GPS Navigator today and experience effortless navigation like never before! Note: Actual product color may slightly differ from images due to monitor and lighting variations. Please allow for 1-2cm measuring deviation due to manual measurement.

Product Specifications:

- Screen Resolution: 800x480 - Special Features: Touch Screen, FM Transmitter - GPS Type: Vehicle GPS Units & Equipment - Display Size: 7 inches - Item Size: 178x110x10mm/7.01x4.33x0.39 inches - Item Weight: 550g - Memory: 8GB, Cache: 256MB - CPU: MSTAR 2531 A7 dual-core frequency 800MHZ - Operating System: Wince 6.0 - Charging Port: Mini USB - Expansion Card Slot: Supports 32G TF card - Entertainment: Games, movies, music, photo albums - Language: Multiple language options Make every journey a breeze with the 7/5 Inch Car GPS Navigator. Order now and travel with confidence! Package includes: 1 x Navigator, 1 x Instruction Manual, 1 x Data Cable, 1 x Clip, 1 x Car Charger, 1 x Suction Cup Bracket Read the full article

[jonvy]

Crucial Things to Consider While Choosing Car Audio Auckland

Going on a long drive with your partner can be exciting, but this excitement can be multiplied if you have the best car audio system installed in your car. Listening to your favorite track while driving can truly make your ride completely hassle-free. There are several things to consider while investing in car audio in Auckland.  

Audio Source 

Do you need a CD player? When you're parked, will you be playing DVDs on your receiver? Have you shifted from discs to digital media? Your response will let you know whether you should choose a larger A/V receiver with a color screen, a conventional CD receiver with a slot for your discs, or a mechless receiver that does away with the drive and all of its moving parts. Make sure your new receiver has a USB port for MP3, AAC, or WMA playback from flash storage devices and a 3.5mm analog auxiliary input for universal connectivity. This is because, chances are, you or a passenger will want to plug in a phone or media player at some point, even if you still keep a book of CDs in your car's glove box.

Apps Along with Smartphone Integration 

Smartphones become very common these days, but you have to ensure that the smartphone that you want your new car stereo works well with. Generally speaking, you should check if the USB port on your new stereo enables full-speed access to the media on your iDevice by looking for the "Made with iPhone" symbol. Be sure the receiver uses a standard USB port rather than the outdated 30-pin connector if you own an iPad, iPhone 5S, 5C, or any other device that employs the new Lightning connector.

There are no badges for users of Blackberry, Windows Phone, or Android to search for. For wireless media playback, choose a receiver that supports A2DP stereo Bluetooth audio streaming or utilize the previously specified auxiliary input for the easiest connection.

Local and Satellite Radio  

The AM/FM radio that tunes into your local stations is a standard function on every car audio receiver offered today, but you might wish to make it better. Local radio stations transmitted in digital format can have much better audio quality if you choose a receiver with built-in HD Radio decoding. Additionally, you will have access to iTunes Tagging of broadcast music for later purchase and download, as well as digital subprograms for stations that allow multicasting to expand the quantity of free programming accessible.

GPS and Navigation

Beyond playing music, many car audio receivers also include turn-by-turn GPS navigation to help you reach where you're going. You may get free traffic reporting via the HD Radio tuner or the RDS-TMC band, which is quite helpful. Many of you are already prepared to argue that an in-dash system wouldn't be better than the navigation software on your phone, and you're essentially right. There are various GPS systems available that you should use during your drive to make it informative while you are on the road. 

Physical Control 

After deciding on your audio source wishlist, you should consider the receiver's size and interface. Choosing between a single-DIN and a double-DIN receiver is the main task here. Single-DIN receivers fit into a larger range of dashboards, take up less room in the dashboard, and are less noticeable to onlookers and potential thieves (especially those with detachable faceplates). Double-DIN models typically have huge, touch-sensitive displays and occupy more dashboard real estate. In the event that you indicated that you would like app mirroring, DVD playback, or GPS navigation, your dashboard will probably eventually house a double-DIN device.

These are the few things that you must consider before going to buy car audio Auckland that can easily match your entertain and information needs. 

Resource: https://jonvynz.wordpress.com/2024/05/29/crucial-things-to-consider-while-choosing-car-audio-auckland/

[parksaversnews]

Disney Unveils Major Upgrades to Dining Reservation System for 2024

Introduction Disney is rolling out several exciting enhancements to its dining reservation system in 2024 that will make it easier than ever for guests to snag a table at their favorite Disneyland and Walt Disney World restaurants. The upgrades address some of the biggest pain points with the current reservation process and introduce helpful new features that will save time and reduce hassle for hungry park-goers.

New Features One of the most anticipated changes is a new notification system that will alert guests when a reservation opens up at a fully booked restaurant. Currently, guests have to keep manually checking for availability or use a third-party service. The new feature will send an alert via the My Disney Experience app as soon as a table opens up, giving you a chance to quickly claim the reservation. Another major improvement will allow guests to search for available reservations across a range of dates, instead of having to check each date individually. Simply enter the start and end dates of your trip, and the system will display all available time slots at your selected restaurants during that window. This will make it much faster and easier to find a reservation that fits your schedule. Disney is also making it more convenient to modify existing reservations. Starting in 2024, most restaurants will allow changes and cancellations up to 2 hours before your reservation time without penalty. The previous policy required 24 hours notice to avoid a fee. This added flexibility is a welcome change for guests whose plans often change at the last minute.

Dining Plans Return In more good news, Disney announced that its popular dining plans will return in 2024 after being suspended during the pandemic. Guests will once again be able to pre-pay for their meals and snacks as part of a vacation package starting January 9, 2024. Two options will be offered - the standard Disney Dining Plan which includes a table-service meal, quick-service meal, and snack per day; and the Quick Service Dining Plan which includes two quick-service meals and a snack per day. Both plans come with a refillable drink mug to use at the resorts.

Conclusion With a slew of useful new features and the return of the convenient dining plans, the Disney dining experience is poised to be better than ever in 2024. The reservation system upgrades will give guests more flexibility and control over when and where they dine, while saving time and eliminating frustration. Whether you're craving character dining, international flavors at EPCOT, or a memorable meal inside a Disney icon like Cinderella Castle, these enhancements will help make your culinary wishes come true with a tap and a swipe. We can't wait to dig in! Read the full article

[jrpneblog]

Painting the Big Picture

In football it is very easy to get carried away with three good results or three poor results for that matter. No better example of this is the ups and downs of North Ends start to this 23-24 campaign. Six wins and two draws from the opening eight games really set the Hares running at Deepdale as North End topped the division leading into the September international break. However just five weeks later and North End find themselves ten points behind league leaders Leicester City after taking just one point from the last four league games. Some say we were lucky in the early part of the season hanging on for narrow wins but I do not purport to that narrative. I actually think North End managed those early games very well in the latter stages and we were good value for the twenty points we amassed from those first eight league games. The horror show was the West Brom game at home and with what happened at Leicester and Ipswich in the following seven days, the stuffing was knocked out of North End`s early season giddiness. We were good for an hour at Leicester and probably gave our worse defensive play for some time at Portman Road last Saturday.

In spite of the past three results I think we should look at the big picture with a little more confidence than I am feeling around Deepdale at the moment. No doubt in my mind that the squad is stronger this season than it was last season and in Holmes and Millar we have have brought in two players who are very comfortable at this level and can beat an opponent from a level start. That is something we have not we had at Deepdale for a while in the Championship. I still feel the manager is on a learning curve in the Championship and if there is one observation I would make regarding Ryan Lowe is that he sometimes makes the players fit the system and not the other way round. Anyway, the facts of the matter are that we are third in the Championship table albeit that the clubs below have almost caught us up. We have two big home games to come after the re-start against Millwall and Southampton and we will have a look at those two fixtures in a little more detail next week. People often talk about setting realistic targets but from what I have seen so far, Leicester excepted, there is no reason at all why North End should not set their ambition on a play off spot this season which would be a real boost after fifteen years without challenging for the top flight.

Looking back to the game at Portman Road last week and a shocker of a defensive display from North End. We looked well in the game at 1-1 and when we scored after half time to make it 2-3 we once again looked like we could take something from the encounter. However we conceded some horror goals over the ninety minutes including the second Ipswich goal in which a player was allowed to run 80 yards unchallenged before slotting the ball home past Woodman. You would get a bollocking on the Park on a Sunday morning for letting that happen never mind in a game that pitched second against third in the Championship. The defensive lessons must be learned after this defeat and one or two players may well find themselves warming the bench next Saturday instead of starting the game.

And finally this week:- we turn to Euro 2024 and the destiny of England. This weekend it is our turn to miss a qualifying fixture so we welcome Australia to Wembley on Friday evening for a Friendly. The big game is on Tuesday evening when Italy come to London with an English win enough to see us qualify for the finals in Germany next Summer. With Malta at home and North Macedonia away following on from Italy I doubt England will have any issues at all making the finals but it would be nice to finish at the top of the group and a win against the Azzurri at Wembley on Tuesday evening would go a very long way towards achieving that target.

.

MATCH PREDICTION -

ENGLAND v AUSTRALIA (Friendly) H - Home Win

ENGLAND v ITALY (Euro 2024 Qual) H - Draw

.

JR`s HIGH FIVES

MK DONS to beat BARROW 11/10

A £5 Stake returns £10.50 on bet365

SEASONS STATS

Returns £52.00 Stake £50.00

Percentage profit+/-loss + 4.00%

Predictions 10 won 5 lost 5

[zoomvisualblogs]

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[landmarkjeepindia]

Jeep Wrangler Cars

Jeep Wrangler: The Ultimate Off-Road SUV

If you are looking for an off-road SUV that offers unmatched performance, capability and style, you might want to check out the Jeep Wrangler. The Jeep Wrangler is a 5-seater SUV that is a legend in its own right, with a heritage that dates back to 1986. In this blog post, we will explore some of the highlights of the Jeep Wrangler and why it is a great choice for your next adventure.

Iconic Exteriors

The Jeep Wrangler is instantly recognizable by its iconic design elements, such as the signature seven-slot grille, circular LED headlamps, fender-mounted turn indicators and LED DRLs, removable doors and roof, fold-down windshield, and exposed hinges. The Jeep Wrangler also offers a range of customization options, such as different roof types, wheel sizes, body colours and decals.

The Jeep Wrangler is available in two variants: Unlimited and Rubicon. The Unlimited variant is the base model that offers a balance of comfort and capability. The Rubicon variant is the top-of-the-line model that offers enhanced off-road features, such as 33-inch tyres, stronger axle tubes, larger brakes, 4x4 systems with Rock-Trac transfer case and Tru-Lok locking differentials, rock rails, steel bumpers and more.

Rugged Interiors

The Jeep Wrangler offers rugged and durable interiors that can withstand any weather and terrain. The SUV features wash-out interiors with removable carpet and drain plugs that make cleaning easy. The SUV also offers features like an 8.4-inch touchscreen infotainment system with Apple CarPlay and Android Auto, a voice command system, an Alpine music system, dual-zone climate control, keyless entry, 60:40 split-folding rear seats, leather upholstery and more.

The Jeep Wrangler also boasts a 7-inch MID that displays vital information like speed, fuel level, tyre pressure and more. The SUV also has a Uconnect Off-Road Pages feature that shows off-road performance data such as pitch, roll, altitude, GPS coordinates and more.

Legendary Capability

The Jeep Wrangler is powered by a BS6 Phase 2-compliant 2.0-litre turbo petrol engine that produces 268bhp and 400Nm of peak torque. This motor is paired with an eight-speed automatic transmission, and power is sent to the wheels via an AWD system.

The Jeep Wrangler also offers legendary 4x4 capability with its Selec-Terrain traction management system that lets you choose from five modes: Auto, Snow, Sand, Mud and Rock. The SUV also has features like hill descent control, hill start assist, electronic roll mitigation and more.

Safety and Security

The Jeep Wrangler comes with over 50 safety and security features that keep you confident and protected behind the wheel. Some of these features include:

Four airbags

Electronic stability control

Hill start assist

Electronic parking brake

Electronic roll mitigation

Anti-lock braking system

Brake assist

Traction control

Cruise control

Reverse parking camera

Rear parking sensors

Blind-spot monitoring

Rear cross-path detection

The India-spec Jeep Wrangler has been awarded a one-star rating by Global NCAP for its safety performance.

Price and Availability

The Jeep Wrangler is available in two variants: Unlimited and Rubicon. The price ranges from Rs. 59.02 lahks to Rs. 63.02 lahks (ex-showroom) depending on the variant selected.

You can book your Jeep Wrangler online or visit your nearest Landmark Jeep showroom to get a test drive and a personalized quote. Landmark Jeep is one of the leading dealers of Jeep vehicles in India, with showrooms in Delhi, Mumbai, Thane, Navi Mumbai, Noida, Gurugram and Ludhiana.

So, what are you waiting for? Get ready to experience the Jeep Compass and unleash your legend. For more information, visit Wikipedia page and Landmark Jeep.

[some-kindofgnome]

these violent delights, pt. i

In an immersive theme park where cutting-edge technology makes your wildest dreams come true, the line between fantasy and reality begins to blur. enter westworld, where artificially intelligent automatons known as ‘hosts’ are programmed to fulfill your every delight.

(westworld AU, eventual host!dabi x reader, host!keigo takami x reader, eventual shouto todoroki x f!reader)

part one | part two | part three

featuring: hanta sero, denki kaminari, katsuki bakugou, momo yaoyozoru, eijirou kirishima

part one: you prepare to enter the park for the bachelorette party your bridesmaids wanted. meanwhile, westworld’s capable employees prepare to roll out the latest programming update.

wc: 8.7k

pt. i warnings: smut (18+!), sci-fi dystopia, artificial intelligence, medical/surgical procedures, body modification. gun violence, robbery, kidnapping, drinking, death, no beta we die like teddy

notes: this is part one of my entry for The Smut Pile’s Western Collab! this is my very first server collab and I am so thrilled to be kicking it off with this plot monster. this is the first of three parts- it leans a little heavy on the world building, so stay tuned for parts two and three. the action dials up from here, promise! i’m excited to be putting out one of my first plot-heavy stories on this blog!

please note: part one borrows several events from season one, episodes one and two of the series. the story will branch off in its own direction in parts two and three. you do not need to be familiar with Westworld to enjoy this fic- so please give it a try! 💖

(MASTERLIST)

“This doesn’t feel right.”

Livestock Management technician Hanta Sero drifts idly from tool cart to operating table with his raven hair pulled back. He’s clad in a protective latex apron and gloves, approaching the table with a blowtorch in one hand and a long, slim pair of forceps in the other.

“That’s what it says here.” Denki Kaminari stands across the black-tiled room, his back reflected in the glass walls of the operating facility. He scrolls mindfully through a folding datapad with a crease of deep concentration in his golden brow.

Snapping his datapad shut, he lifts his chin to find Sero’s conflicted gaze across the lab.

“The specifications were pretty precise.”

“I know what the briefing said,” Sero retorts. “I just…”

He ignites the blowtorch and takes a deep breath, letting his gaze over slowly over the pale, unmarked flesh of the body stretched out on the table in front of him.

“What?” Kaminari takes in the sight before him. He lifts his eyebrows. “Oh. Well-“

He gets up from his stool, tugging his gloves back over his shirtsleeves and crossing the room toward Sero and the body in question. He picks up a scalpel, making a clean little cut just below the subject’s left nipple without any hesitation.

“Dude, stop!” Sero reaches with the hand still clutching his forceps, blanching as a thin well of blood trickles onto pristine flesh.

“He’s offline,” Denki chuckles. “He can’t feel a thing. You’ve patched these guys up a thousand times, Sero. What’s the problem?”

“I dunno,” Sero muses, drawing the back of one glove nervously over his temple. “I dunno. I think they’re starting to get too real. It’s messing with me.” He shoots Denki a weak chuckle and shakes his head.

“What do they need this guy all burned up for, anyway?”

“Momo told me he’s for the new narrative,” Denki replies, puzzling over the red hair and immaculate pale skin of their unsuspecting victim. “Some kind of grizzly new villain who’s supposed to stir up trouble.”

“Better make him extra fucked up, then.” The blowtorch, extinguished in Sero’s panic, is ignited again, but he’s still hesitating.

“Hey,” Denki prompts. “Why don’t we start with the system update? That’ll kill some time. And then- hey.” He reaches across the tool cart, grabbing for the bottle of black hair dye that came with the host’s modification kit. He shakes it in Sero’s face, letting a smug grin cross his features.

“I’ll do the carpet if you do the drapes.”

Sero and Denki find their rhythm easily enough. Before long, the tension dispels and they’re letting conversation flow smoothly between them, making weekend plans while Sero pushes polished silver staples into the now-scarred flesh of the transformed host.

“This guy’s older than he looks,” Denki quips from the tool cart, where he’s selecting an appropriately sized needle for the delicate work ahead of him. “His systems haven’t been updated in years.”

“I’ve never seen him in the park before,” Sero admits. He’s finishing the clean row of staples that trail from the corner of the host’s mouth to his ear, struggling to push the staple into the skin at the edges of his face. The sharp prongs don’t hold as well in the spots where the muscle and flesh thin to just skin stretched over bone. He looks up in frustration, shaking the spots from his concentrated gaze.

“Whoa,” he starts as he spots the way that Denki’s moved up between the host’s lean thighs. “You’re really gonna-“

“That’s what it says in the briefing,” Denki presses. He’s got the aforementioned needle in one hand and a bowl of curved barbells in the other; he’s gone a little grin about the gills, too.

“Sick fucks,” Sero snorts, shaking his head. “Doesn’t feel very historically accurate, does it?”

“Please,” Denki pushes. “If you think this has ever been about history, you’re in for a nasty surprise.”

“Christ, you wanna talk about nasty surprises,” Sero replies, blanching and averting his eyes while Denki inserts the first piercing. “Just wait’ll the guests get a look at him.”

"Bakugou's outdone himself this time," Denki agrees, brow furrowed with sympathy and panicked concentration as he unscrews the first barbell. "Those idiots won't know what hit 'em.”

“Bring yourself back online.”

Head of Programming Shouto Todoroki sits in front of the park’s newest addition, datapad spread across his lap. Sero and Denki’s work paid off; the new host is looking fiercer than ever.

Not new enough for Shouto’s tastes, though. He can still see the blue glint when “Dabi,” as his new narrative calls him, shifts into wakefulness and lets his eyes flutter open. He shoots Shouto a sinister grin but does not move from his seat.

Shouto doesn’t want to believe what they’ve done to him. He’s still nude, putting all his new modifications on brilliant display. The staples in his flesh look angry and inflamed. The scars, done perfectly to appear long-healed, still make his blood curdle.

He can’t even think about the flashes of silver that catch the light when Dabi crosses his legs.

“And who are you supposed to be?" Dabi growls an opening line that shakes Shouto more than it ought to. He sports a brand new drawl that fits the world he’ll be slotted into soon enough, but it’s too much, bouncing off the pristine glass and shiny tile beneath his bare feet.

“Lose the accent,” Shouto commands. Dabi's expression shifts a little, but he does not drop eye contact.

Shouto can’t help but wonder if they all stare like this. He hasn’t been alone with a host in a very long time. Especially not one with this kind of significance.

“Do you know where you are?” He presses, determined to push forward. The sooner he gets Dabi through analysis, the sooner he can pretend like the unsettling host doesn’t exist.

But Dabi’s voice with no drawl is even more spine-chilling.

“I am in a dream.”

“And… do you want to wake up from this dream?”

Dabi’s eyes drift away in a direction they’re not supposed to. For a moment, he casts his gaze down and to the left, letting it sweep across the edge of the room as his brow creases with terrifying subtlety.

The gesture is minuscule, almost as if he's recalling a distant memory. For a moment, Shouto can only admire its beauty.

Then he realizes it’s not supposed to be there.

“Yes,” Dabi continues, his voice soft and lilting and almost wistful. “I’m terrified.”

“Freeze all motor functions.” Shouto’s heart pounds in his chilled throat. His extremities have gone cold. But Dabi follows his instructions to the letter, freezing before he can even blink. Shouto questions why he expected any differently.

Not two minutes later, Head of Behaviour Momo Yaoyorozu ducks gracefully into Dabi’s glass prison. Shouto is still sitting exactly where he began, perched on a little rolling leather stool. Six feet away, Dabi has not moved, bare and frozen on a stool of his own.

"I got your page," Momo soothes, shutting the door quietly behind her and unfolding her datapad. The hinges go rigid when they sit flat, blending seamlessly into a broad tablet that she taps and scrolls quietly through.

“I checked his programming on the way over. There’s something new here,” she concludes. “But I don’t know who added it. Must have been one of the interns, or-“

“I know who it was,” Shou answers grimly, already scrolling meticulously through the lines of code that make up Dabi’s new personality. Momo freezes, looking up at him with cold surprise.

“You don’t think…”

“I do,” he confirms. He takes a deep breath to quell his racing heart and shoots his closest colleague a shaky look. “You’re going to want to see this.”

“Incredible,” Momo gasps a few moments later when Shouto asks Dabi the same series of questions and gets the same frightening response. He knows why it shakes him as much as it does, but it hasn’t occurred to him that someone like Momo would actually… appreciate them.

“It’s like he’s-“ she starts, then stops herself. The conclusion she’s drawn should be as impossible as it sounds. But it’s staring them both in the face.

“Like he’s remembering something.” She finishes her thought this time, and Shou clenches his jaw.

"He must have slipped the code into the update," he determines. "In the programming, he's calling them Reveries."

“Kind of poetic,” Momo muses, still admiring the way that Dabi’s eyes seem to mist as they stare into the middle-distance. “It makes him look so real.”

“The code pulls memories from his earlier programming,” Shouto continues, looking up at Momo and waiting for her to be as spooked as he is.

He’s almost frightened that she’ll be defensive. But she’s sharper than he’s given her credit for, and that revelation is enough to pull her from her stupor.

“That could cause a lot of problems,” she muses. “Especially if the loops haven’t been closed properly. They’re supposed to be wiped after every cycle, but if there are links pulling them back…”

“I know,” Shouto emphasizes. Momo straightens, planting matter-of-fact hands on matter-of-fact hips.

“What are you gonna do about it?”

“I don’t think there’s anything I can do,” he confesses, turning back to catch another blood-chilling glimpse of the all-too-familiar host. “I can’t just pull the programming out from under him. He’ll know.”

“You can’t send him into the park with it. If it’s slotted in with the update, he could spread it to the other hosts.”

Shouto pushes his datapad aside and leans forward, steepling his fingers as he sighs deeply and descends into even deeper thought.

Momo’s right. With the Reveries included, the update has potentially disastrous consequences. But that’s operating on the assumption that his father makes mistakes, which most people would confirm is simply impossible.

If he clears the programming before letting Dabi go through, however, he’ll be facing the wrath of his father.

Shou purses his lips, lacing his fingers together but leaving the pointers extended and pursing his lips against the smooth joints.

“I think we’re going to have to.”

The glossy, perfect train- the first of many you'll take today, as you're told- pulls into a station that's even whiter than the train itself. Polished white floors and perfect whitewashed columns are the first things you see out the massive panoramic windows as the cars pull to a complete stop. When the doors glide open, your maid of honour touches your sleeve as the other girls filter out of your private compartment and onto the platform.

You’re far from the only ones disembarking the train. The rest of the platform is soon crowded by immaculately-dressed guests from all over the world. They bow and shift like a flock of starlings, moving in stark contrast past the perfectly-still bodies of the white-clad staff waiting to greet them.

A tall, statuesque woman with raven hair steps forward, addressing your maid of honour by name. She gives you an apologetic wave and a see you in there before disappearing amid the writhing sea of people.

You’ve been reading up on this place for weeks, scouring pamphlets and websites and guest reviews for every detail about the induction process you can glean from public knowledge. Details of the park itself are kept very private, but you’ve learned all you can about the way you’ll be introduced to it.

This place was not your first choice for the occasion at hand, but your friends practically insisted. You know it’s for selfish reasons- it’s the only chance they’re ever going to get to see the place for themselves- but you can already think of several places you’d rather celebrate your coming nuptials.

Not exactly your typical bachelorette party fare. But your friends agreed to wear matching dresses in that shade of pale green you couldn’t stay away from, so you’re giving them this.

Before long the platform is nearly cleared. You’re just starting to make your way toward the escalator, wondering what exactly became of the host who was supposed to greet you, when a soft croon of your name over one shoulder nearly shocks you out of your sandals.

Your host has arrived, and he’s even more gorgeous than you feared. Graceful and lithe-looking, he’s clad in a pristine white suit and turtleneck that contrasts the bold flashes of his golden hair perfectly. He shoots you a smooth smile, lit by razor-sharp tawny eyes and as he turns his face to catch the light, you can see that his jaw is grazed by the barest hint of scruff- perfectly groomed, just like the rest of him.

"Hello," you greet, trying not to lose your breath. You clasp the fingers of your right hand around the ring finger on your left- the remnants of your favourite new nervous habit. You've taken to twisting your engagement ring in moments of idleness or anxiety, but for safety's sake, you've left the flashy diamond at home.

You know you’re engaged. That’s what matters most.

“Good,” the host croons. You’re getting quickly used to his honeyed brogue, strong and low and sweet as he takes your hand and drops a suave kiss to your knuckles. “I’m glad you found your way here.” He jerks his head toward the emptying escalator, eyes never leaving yours.

“Follow me.”

As you’re ascending through the polished storeys of the park’s immaculate headquarters, your attendant rattles off a long list of mundane medical questions. He’s tapping away on a datapad as he walks, and you’re sure that whatever information he’s taking down will be swept away for later use.

Finally, he brings you to a plain-looking white door. He tucks away the datapad and slips his hands into his pockets. He’s graceful and perfect- too perfect. You’re starting to suspect that he’s no ordinary employee.

“Go on,” he urges, nodding toward the door. You shoot him a sideways little glance but step forward, hooking your fingers around the polished handle and pushing it open. You step inside.

The interior of the room- or closet, as it would be better described- is lit almost exclusively by glowing strip lights hidden in the crevices of the doorway, racks of clothing, and bordering a large series of mirrors that stud each wall.

It’s the biggest walk-in closet you’ve ever seen. And it’s filled to the brim with racks of clothing, all appropriate to the vague late-19th century setting of the park.

“Everything is bespoke,” pipes your immaculate attendant as he shuts the door behind him, “and exactly your size.” Painfully, you remember being asked for your body measurements in anticipation of this visit. Did they custom-tailor everything for each guest?

Or are you being given special treatment?

“You can pick out anything you’d like,” he continues, moving toward you, “and your other clothes will be waiting for you when you’ve finished your stay.”

“I don’t even know where to start,” you muse, fingering the raspberry-coloured silk of a lavish-looking day dress.

“The clothes you choose will determine the course of your experience.”

Your attendant is right beside you now, so close that you can see the way his golden eyelashes brush his tanned cheeks. He’s leaning in to examine the silk same as you, but his shoulder pushes just a little close to be solely practical. As he grips the material between lithe fingers, he lifts his gaze to yours on purpose. There’s a charming lilt to his smile that you can’t help but admire.

He pauses, dropping the silk and turning to face you head-on. Though the smile has slipped from his features, he still eyes you with interest.

“You want to ask, don’t you?”

Your brain catches up immediately, confusion swelling and fading in the span of a heartbeat. It tightens to thick dread in your chest.

He’s right. You do.

“Are you real?” The words sound even more ridiculous in the air between you than they did in your head. But ever since you boarded the train it felt like you could never be sure. And he’s perfect. Too perfect. Even the way he takes your question seems scripted and rehearsed.

He gives a low chuckle and takes your hands, stroking smooth thumbs over the backs of your knuckles. Then he peeks up at you from beneath flawless dark lashes and flashes a hint of pearly canine as he speaks.

“If you can’t tell, does it really matter?”

You don’t need him to expand.

“Come,” he prompts gently, dropping one hand to pull open a drawer of delicate slips and shifts, sitting in neat, folded piles of undyed linen. Some are plain, others trimmed excessively with lace and ribbons. You’re drawn to the coloured ribbons immediately- pale peach, soft blue, mint green. But the brassy gold of your attendant’s eyes is even more magnetic and you can’t look away for longer than a handful of seconds.

“You know,” he continues, squeezing your fingers gently and moving back in to run his knuckles up the inside of your wrist. Every single one of his touches is delicate, fluttering like a songbird against your skin. But there’s nothing gentle about the way he looks at you.

“Some of these clothes are a little difficult to put on alone.”

He does not explain further, but he watches as you’re drawn to the same conclusion that he is.

You have to roll this one over in your mind for a long while. You left your engagement ring behind, but the engagement itself still stands. Then again, he told you to enjoy yourself here. ‘Make every use of the park’s benefits,’ he’d suggested.

He’s just a computer, you tell yourself. A glorified sex toy. Maybe he walks and talks and flirts like a real human being, but…

There’s something about him that’s making it hard to turn him down.

After a silence long enough for any normal person to question, you look up at your attendant once more. He’s patiently awaiting your response, having gone uncomfortably still. You're not even sure he'd blink if you stare long enough.

You give a tight little nod and he’s smiling again, the same lazy smile as before. His default expression, you’re beginning to gather. He reaches for your coat.

“Wait.” You stop him with one hand on either forearm. He’s touched you before, but it’s still shocking how warm he is. Even though the sleeves of his perfect white jacket, he feels unquestionably alive.

"Don't you have a name or something?"

“Of course I do,” he responds. “Would you like to hear it?”

“Um…” Your brow knits. “Yes.”

He slips around behind you, curling his fingers into the open folds of your jacket and beginning to slide the weighty material off your shoulders. As he does, he leans forward, letting his lips draw close to your ear and making you shiver.

“Call me Keigo.”

“Keigo,” you repeat. It’s pretty and rolls easily from your mouth in a slow purr of desire. You can’t help yourself anymore. Keigo’s been programmed to put you at ease, but he’s doing much more for you now.

He undresses you methodically, pausing only briefly to run a hand down the curve of your waist or dip his fingers under the point of your chin when he catches you looking down. Even when you’re standing completely naked in front of him, he does not move to touch you in any untoward manner.

Whatever unspoken arrangement you thought you had formed is obviously not as unspoken as you’d hoped.

With his help, you select some period-appropriate undergarments. He helps you into your breezy linen shift first, lovingly tying the drawstrings into a neat little bow at the centre front. The corset is not as uncomfortable as you'd anticipated, fitting you devastatingly well. Keigo’s skilled hands pull the laces with precise tension, and the whole time he breathes soft commands and inquiries over your shoulder.

“Too tight?” He whispers, holding the laces taught at your waist. You take a slow, deep breath, then shake your head.

“Good.”

He ties the laces off and helps you into two petticoats- one of plain white cotton, the other of decorative silk and lace. Then he sits you on a cool, leather-covered sofa on one edge of the room and drops to his knees in front of you.

“Uh-“ you start, but he produces a pair of silk stockings from seemingly nowhere, smirking over the tops of your knees.

“Let’s get this out of the way.”

He pushes your airy petticoats up from your ankles, letting the backs of his palms brush the insides of your knees. He shoves the material up to your thighs and your confusion is multiplied now- is this what you think it is?

The way he admires your thighs as you shyly press them together certainly makes it seem so.

"Keigo," you gasp, curling your fingers against the edge of the sofa. The leather is supple and delicate beneath your touch like you could tear it if you wanted to.

He looks up just in time to watch you hook a bare thigh over his shoulder, and his brows shoot into his pointed hairline.

You’ve decided what you want out of this trip.

"Dove," he chides, setting down the stockings and pushing them gently aside. He takes both hands up the backs of your calves, stroking perfectly manicured fingernails into the tender skin at the backs of your knees.

He drops a kiss to the inside of your thigh. His face disappears behind the swath of frothy white petticoats gathered in your lap, but you feel his hot breath on your skin clear as day.

“If you wanted something from me,” he purrs, “all you had to do was ask.”

“I’m asking now,” you hum, letting your head fall back against the back of the couch. He’s easy enough to convince. Somehow, the fact that you didn’t have to work very hard for this almost makes it feel more acceptable.

“Here’s my answer,” he replies, sinking his teeth into the flesh of your inner thigh. You let out a strangled gasp, thigh jolting against his face as he slips his hand under the other leg- still hooked over his shoulder. You let out a low, shaky breath, trying not to think about the mark he’ll leave.

He pushes your leg away after biting it, shoving your knees apart and leaning eagerly forward. His head is fully buried under your gathered petticoats at this point, and you can feel him nosing his way into the crook of your groin, sliding a few free fingers up to prod gently for your hair-dusted folds.

“Wet already, bluebird?” He chuckles into your skin, sending shivers up your spine. “I’m flattered.”

“Stop,” you groan. There’s heat rushing to your cheeks with every word that tumbles out of his pretty mouth. You don’t want any of this to stop, but the heat between your legs is the one quickly growing unbearable.

“Do you want me to?” Keigo sits back almost immediately, ridding you of the delicious tingles his close breath were sending across your skin.

“No, no!” You yelp sharply, indignantly, digging your bare heel into his back to keep him close. He stops as soon as you apply pressure, letting out a quiet little chuckle.

“Keep going,” you pant, curling your toes against his pretty jacket.

“Your wish is my command,” he hums, already leaning into your flesh again. He does not hesitate this time, burying his head between your legs and giving the weeping slit of your cunt a long lick.

His first touch is all it takes to remind you how long it’s been.

“Fuck,” you gasp, low and languid. He doesn’t hesitate to close his lips around your swelling clit and suck. He makes sharp, sloppy noises with his lips and tongue, and the way they resonate in your ears near-doubles your pleasure. He’s eating you out perfectly, with terrifying precision. The strength of his jaw and tongue remains almost painfully consistent.

All the better for drowning him out. Despite his easy-flowing attitude and suave charm, he’s not a person. And it isn’t unfaithful to want him like this.

Even if you know he wouldn’t like it.

Keigo is diligent and careful, plunging his tongue in and out of your needy hole before finding the nub of your clit again, hard and sensitive. When he flicks the tip of his tongue against the tender front of it your legs spasm and you cry out softly as sensitive goosebumps rush across your ribcage.

“Like that,” you plead breathlessly, drawing your foot up between his shoulder blades as the tension builds. “Again, please.”

You’re holding the swells of your petticoats up around your thighs for him, but your fingers are beginning to clench in the delicate material. You’re not going to last long at all beneath a tongue as talented as his.

“Don’t worry, dove,” he purrs into your body, sending thick vibrations through every nerve in your system, “I won’t leave you unsatisfied.”

As he settles into his rhythm again, he plunges two fingers into your messy depths. He curls them tightly inside you, massaging your tender walls with a blunt and careful touch.

It takes little more than a few methodical strokes to make you fall. You cum with a tight little squeal, closing your thighs tightly around his head while you spasm and buck and sigh. He’s attentive enough to keep pumping his fingers through your orgasm, drawing out the pleasure as much as possible and greedily lapping at the wetness that trickles from your clenching pussy.

"That's it," he soothes, easing you down from your high with one calming hand on the column of your twitching thigh. As you settle, sweat-soaked, back into your seat he surfaces, sweat and shiny, sticky fluid sticking in the bristles of his perfect scruff. He licks his lips and you realize you’ve unconsciously mirrored him, doing the same.

In the moments directly following your peak you say nothing, looking down to meet his brassy gaze as deep uncertainty settles into your gut.

What happens now?

Keigo sits back on his haunches, pulling the folded pocket square from his breast and mopping up the mess on his chin and jaw like he'd done nothing more than spill a glass of wine or splash water over his lips.  

“Much better,” he croons, reaching for the discarded stockings from before. “Feeling a little more relaxed?”

You swallow hard.

“I’d say so.”

His smile is surprisingly bright and sunny.

“Good.” He hooks his fingers under your knee again, unhooking your leg from his shoulder. Sliding a palm down to your ankle, he fits one stocking deftly over your foot and slides it up your calf, continuing his work as if uninterrupted. He fits the stockings over your knees and ties them off carefully with slips of silk ribbon, sitting the knots just below your knees so the stockings won't fall. Then, he gets to his feet and offers you a hand.

“Let’s pick out the rest of your clothes, shall we?”

The park is even more immersive than you imagined. The photos do it no justice. When you step off the (genuine steam-powered) train at Sweetwater Station, it’s accompanied by a very real twinge of anxiety. The village is like a scene out of a Clint Eastwood movie. Only there are no cardboard sets here. The saloon doors really swing inward. The shops and businesses that line the main street are built from real, weathered lumber. The dust that’s kicked up by the hosts that go about their daily lives is already beginning to coat your new boots.

You sneeze.

“God bless you,” greets a kind stranger in a rough-hewn grey coat and white hat. He’s got a very apparent drawl to his voice, but the glint in his blue eyes is kind.

Back at the facility, guests and hosts were easy enough to distinguish from one another. Out here, it’s a little more difficult. You’re not sure whether to believe that everyone is real or assume they’re all fake.

Luckily, there are four women beside you whose humanity you are acutely aware of. You’re lucky enough to have found your bridesmaids on the train in- all clustered in the bar car, but together nonetheless.

And they’ve insisted on keeping the party going.

“C’mon, bride-to-be,” your maid of honour chides, grabbing you by the hand and pulling you out of your reverie. “I know exactly where we need to go first.”

“It’s not even noon yet,” you protest, but the others are already miles ahead of you. You’re dragged easily into the broad, dusty street and toward those broad, swinging doors. The saloon stands proudly in the centre of town on a prominent corner with faded signs advertising its wares. And your maid of honour eagerly bats the doors open, striding boldly into the sun-soaked saloon.

The tables are surprisingly crowded for this time of day. It’s most likely a flood of guests, disembarking the train and heading straight for the local watering hole for a real taste of the action.  Beyond their idle chatter tinkles the bright keys of a player piano against one wall. You can see the player scroll turning in the piano’s upright fixture, but that doesn’t change the unsettling way that the keys seem to press themselves.

It’s an eerie fixture in a town populated by walking, talking player pianos.

The man behind the bar bleeds Old West stereotypes from every pore. He’s got a huge, exaggerated greying moustache and a tweed waistcoat with shirtsleeves bound back for work. He’s polishing an empty glass with a cotton rag, but you spot him just in time to watch him politely greet a guest and reach behind him for a frosted bottle of unlabeled whisky.

The only other fixtures in the place are the women patrolling it, clad in colourful, lacy outfits that you’re certain violate some kind of historical convention. But they’re all breathtakingly beautiful, bosoms heaving over tightly laced corsets and fluttering from table to table like songbirds. They seem to provide little more than decoration and, as you settle into a table not far from the door, they fade easily into the background.

Until one of them screams.

You’ve read as many stories as you could scour the internet for before coming here. You know this place can get intense. Details of the park’s narratives and interactive storylines are kept under wraps as much as possible, so you can’t be sure whether this is out of the ordinary or not.

But when you whip around to find the source of the blood-curdling shriek, it doesn’t feel scripted.

It doesn’t feel scripted when the pretty girl in peach lace flings herself to the feet of a brand-new guest, here with his wife and their young son gaping from across the table. It doesn’t feel like she’s supposed to be wracked with sobs having never exchanged a word with this man.

It doesn’t feel like she should be pleading with him.

But the sobs wrack her body anyway, and her rosy little cheeks are flushed deeply now as she sniffles and blubbers.

“My daughter,” she begs hoarsely. “My girl, my daughter, please, I know you have her. Give her back to me, please. I know you took her. Give her back to me, I’ll do anything.”

Whether the father-of-one knows what she's talking about or not he's white as a sheet, stumbling backwards against the edge of his wife's table and pushing his arms forward, trying to keep her away.

The player piano finishes its tune, keys stilling as the saloon’s patrons look on in shock. And for an honest handful of heartbeats, the saloon is silent save for the host’s ragged sobs.

It takes a few moments for the player scroll to re-align itself before the tune restarts, and as the familiar notes cycle back through the saloon the host re-centres herself, climbing to her feet. There's a hardened resolve on her tear-stained face as her target looks around, gathering his wife and son with a this is bullshit and turning to leave.

“Don’t you dare walk away from me-“ the host begins to snarl. She lunches for the man, hands outstretched for the back of his brand new jacket, or maybe the brim of his crisp Stetson.

“Freeze all motor functions!”

A deep voice booms from the door of the saloon, amplified and simultaneously muffled with the use of a megaphone. The girl, and every other host in the saloon, freezes in place as though they’ve been paused. They don’t just stand still- they’re paralyzed. The smiling bartender is stalled with a glass in his hand; he doesn’t even blink.

In the doorway stands a hulking man of at least six and a half feet, seeming nearly as broad across the shoulders as he is tall. He wears a black uniform, armored black vest and heavy combat boots with a head of brilliant red hair spilling over his shoulders. As he lowers the megaphone he’s grinning, the bare flash of a sharp canine catching the low light of the bar.

“Sorry for the intrusion, folks,” he declares, striding across the floorboards toward the frozen host. Her expression is paused in a sneer of sheer horror and aggression, her hand outstretched for the man who has long since stepped aside.

The red-haired guardian angel, who has the name Kirishima stitched neatly onto the breast of his protective gear in white thread, catches your gaze. He shoots you a familiar little wink and a nod, a soft y’alright? escaping his throat in a quiet little growl.

You lick your lips, nodding slowly. Kirishima averts his gaze and reaches for the frozen host. As soon as he touches her skin she goes limp, falling easily into his powerful hold. He hoists her body over one shoulder and surveys the saloon, touching two fingertips to his forehead in a bright little salute.

“Please, don’t let me intrude on your stay any longer,” he continues. “As you were, everybody. Resume.”

The last word seems to be a command for the hosts in the room, as they spin to life again. They resume their rounds as if no time had passed at all; as if nothing out of the ordinary had ever transgressed.

Spooked, but encouraged by Kirishima’s smooth removal of the offending host, the guests around you go hesitantly back to their conversations. The player piano, also halted by Kirishima’s commands, has resumed its delicate play, and slowly the environment returns to the way it was before.

Your friends are among those willing to brush off the incident.

"What happened?" mumbles your maid of honour across the table, as if the host were still around to overhear her. As if the host's friends might be listening in to see if anybody's talking about her.

“No idea,” quips one of the other girls. “Must be some kind of glitch.” She looks over her shoulder, watching the remaining hosts at the bar. “I wonder if it happens often.”

“Absolutely fucking not.”

Head of Narrative Katsuki Bakugou slams a stack of papers onto the table in front of him, disrupting the intricate hologram that provides a real-time, scale model of the park to the room’s occupants.

“Katsuki!” Momo scolds, watching the hologram stutter and flicker. It’s not the first table he’s damaged.

“You’re not pulling my fucking narrative. It rolls out today. Do you have any idea how many writers I had busting ass on that thing?”

“It doesn’t matter now,” she retorts, tapping the screen of the datapad she’s got hooked tightly in the crook of her other arm. “You saw the host that Eijirou pulled, didn’t you? The fact that he had to step in at all means things got way out of hand…”

“Bullshit,” Katsuki retorts, sweeping his papers off the holo-table (and shattering the image one more time). “That was a fucking glitch. You don’t even have the results back from Behaviour yet.”

“I already know what they’re going to say,” Momo continues.

“That’s right,” Katsuki snarls. “I forgot you know everything around here.”

“She was carrying the latest update. There must be something wrong with the code.” Momo tries not to remember Dabi and his distant stare. She swallows the part about the extra coding slipped in by the man who could do no wrong.

She flips her datapad shut- it’s doing her any good, since Katsuki’s right. The results from Behaviour regarding the misaligned host won’t be ready for some time.

“You can’t. Pull. That. Narrative.” Katsuki’s squared up now, all the gathered papers tucked under his arm. His jaw is ticked, nostrils flaring as his eyes flash. “An entire trainload of guests is wandering around Sweetwater looking for the stories they fucking paid for. If you pull the plug, there’s nothing left.”

He’s right again.

“Look.” Katsuki crosses to the holo-table one more time, only this time it’s without the murderous intent in his gaze. For once he’s ready to use the table as intended, pin-pointing the broad, dusty street of Sweetwater’s main strip and bringing up a live feed of the bustling little town.

"Dabi is riding through here in less than two hours," he continues. "Dial-up his aggression a little. Make him shoot up the place. If you want to pull the hosts, at least let them go out with a bang.”

Momo isn’t convinced. But it’s the closest thing to a happy medium she can picture at the moment. Katsuki, as prolific as ever, knows how to think on his feet.

“How many d’you think he’ll take out?” She probes quietly, quirking an interested brow.

“Enough to keep the guests AND your Doctor Frankensteins entertained while I find us some more loopholes.”

Her mind races through more questions. But the panic, fluttering high and shallow in her chest, has somehow been replaced by a delicate sort of reassurance.

She flips open the datapad one more time, activating the remote host commands available only to an employee of her standing. Finding Dabi’s program file, she does exactly as Katsuki suggests and dials up the aggression in his behaviour stats by eighty percent.

“This had better work,” she threatens softly, but Katsuki’s already folding his arms across his chest, looking far too satisfied with himself. His ego is insufferable, but his talent is unmatched. Worth suffering for.

His mouth splits into a triumphant grin as he shoots an idle glance at the live Sweetwater feed. The only stage he’s ever needed.

“’Course it will.”

The afternoon sun has nearly dipped behind the tallest rooftops in Sweetwater when your friends stumble out of the saloon. Your friends are already tipsy, giggling and clutching each other as they try not to trip over the hems of their skirts. They’re all a little too eager to pull out the extravagant lace fans that pair perfectly with their colourful dresses and fan at their heaving bosoms.

As you bound down the steps and into the dirt road, you dive seamlessly into the milling crowd of hosts and guests, starting to swim. If you’re about to be caught in the eye of a devastatingly orchestrated narrative maelstrom, you’re blissfully unaware.

“Give me the time,” Katsuki grunts from the Sweetwater side of the holo-table. Momo glances up at the digital clock on the wall.

“Thirteen fifty-eight, forty-two,” she notes. Katsuki’s got the camera feed trained on a lone trio of riders, clad in black and plodding steadily toward Sweetwater. He watches carefully, keeping an eye turned on the clock.

“They’re going to be late,” he grunts bitterly, folding his arms over his chest. Sero, Denki and Kirishima, who have all crowded around the holo-table on their lunch breaks to watch the show, snort in near-unison.

“I don’t think anyone down there’s keeping track,” Denki quips, smoothing his palms down the front of his crisp shirt, apronless for once. Katsuki shoots him a vicious glare.

“You wanna go back to your sewing room or what?”

Denki goes quiet.

Inside the park, the sun passes behind a cloud. The light shifts just enough to draw your gaze, and when you look up, you’re among the first to spot a few dark shapes approaching. They’re close enough that you can make them out as riders, all on horses as black as the wide-brimmed hats on their heads.

There’s something about them, their precise formation and the slow, plodding, deliberate pace of their horses that holds your attention. You can’t quite write them off as guests, no matter how much they stand out from the dully-dressed villagers around you.

You glance across the street just long enough to spot a WANTED poster tacked to a column not far off. You can’t make out any of the writing on it, but the face is distinct- dark, shaded patches covering his jaw, chin and lower lip, carving out two shadowy patches under his eyes.

There’s something about the narrow shape of his cheeks that pulls familiar.

But you don’t have to wonder much longer.

The three riders ride quietly into town, the crowd parting around them with little more than low murmurs and dull, lidded fear. They pull to a stop in front of the saloon, barely twenty feet from you.

The cowboy in the grey tweed coat who caught your eye fresh off the train approaches the riders. He’s got a revolver holstered on one hip, and he draws it slowly out of its pouch as he squares up with the horse at the lead of the pack.

“Haven’t you seen the signs with your mug on ‘em?” He drawls, his face drawn into an expression of tense righteousness. He jerks his chin toward the nearest one, the WANTED sign you’d seen seconds earlier. “You’re not welcome here, Dabi.”

The taller rider in the centre- Dabi- tilts his chin into the sunlight, and that’s when you catch sight of its purplish colour. His face glints with silver, a perfect match for the drawing posted across the street.

He does not hesitate, drawing his own revolver in one smooth motion and shooting the cowboy in the chest. The gun discharges with a crack that’s louder than you ever imagined it could be, punctuated by the screams of bystanders nearby.

As the village descends into panic you stand there dumbstruck, watching the chaos unfold.

“Wait for it,” Katsuki grunts, hiding his satisfied grin as his colleagues watch in rapt fascination. Sero hasn’t blinked since the action began.

“You sure?” Dabi rasps, voice muffled by the feed. He produces a shiny golden badge and flipping it, like a silver dollar, onto the expiring corpse of the righteous host.

“No,” Denki whines. “He killed the sheriff?”

“Shut up and keep watching,” Katsuki growls, quelling the proud adrenaline pumping through his veins. There’s nothing quite like seeing his hard work come to life- supremely worth fighting with Momo over.

Dabi smirks, tipping the brim of his hat.

“Seems like invitation enough to me.”

He swings capably off his horse and you can’t deny your fascination with the mystery surrounding him. You should be terrified, but there’s something about the cool confidence with which he carries himself that you can’t quite put aside.

If the women flocking to the windows on either side of the street are any indication, you’re not the only one who feels that way. In a brief moment of lucidity, you take a glance around you. Your bridesmaids have disappeared, disappearing in the panicked mass of flooding crowds after the scarred rider fired his first shot.

He’s followed by a second rider on his right flank, both quickly disappearing into the bar. The third rider- a petite blonde woman swathed in a heavy coat- gets down off her horse and turns quickly toward her saddlebags. When she comes around the front side of her steed, she’s got a shotgun in her hands.

She’s loading it. The pandemonium amplifies. At her feet, there’s a long, thick coil of rope that’s partially unwound and trailing into the saloon. It’s unwinding slowly, with dull screams and shattering glass echoing from inside.

That’s all you have time to notice before another shot goes off in front of you. The little blonde girl’s levelled her shotgun, emptying her rounds at anyone who raises a weapon against her. You’re barely standing ten feet away. But she passes you clean over.

Is it because you're a guest? The only ones who have fallen at her hand are the hosts, capable of being hurt by her gunshots. The guests who haven't taken off are clustered in the windows of shops or hiding behind broad wooden columns, but there is no fear painted on their faces.

You know the hosts can’t hurt you. But there’s something about the thrill of it all that sends adrenaline pumping through your veins anyway. There’s a cool mystery to all of the black-clad riders.

A part of you wants to join them. If you can be anyone you want in here… why not one of them? Why not swing cooly down from your horse and terrorize, when there are no consequences to your actions?

You take one step backwards, then another. Your senses are finally coming back to you. You should run. Disengage. Maybe you can’t be caught in the crossfire, but you can’t stand dumbly in the empty street, either.

Something has to change.

Before you can make it to the safety of a storefront, a pattern of three gunshots in tight succession from inside the saloon triggers something in the blonde, still picking off hosts. There are bodies littering the street.  

She lowers her shotgun and hops back onto her horse, spurring it on with a sharp whistle. The beast takes off without hesitation, and it’s then that you realize the other end of the coiled rope is wound around her saddlehorn. As the horse strains its haunches and pushes forward the rope goes taut. And as the pair of them take off down the street, the spoils emerge: a heavy wrought iron safe, bursting out of the saloon doors and leaving nothing but splintered remains in its wake.

It bounces and rolls down the steps and slides smoothly as soon as it hits the dirt street. The blonde shooter and her horse disappear, safe in tow.

You wonder what became of the bartender inside and his friendly moustache.

Dabi emerges seconds later, a fresh rifle clutched lazily in one hand. His companion’s lost his hat in the turmoil inside- he’s blonde, too, with a deep scar splitting his forehead from hairline to brow.

"Let today be a lesson for every one of you," Dabi calls, re-cocking his shotgun as he surveys the fresh bodies and fleeing guests. You've stopped dead all over again, drawn to him like a magnet despite your best judgement.

He levels the shotgun, aiming it about five feet to your right. You follow his gaze. In the window over your shoulder, with her hands pressed to the glass, is a little girl no older than five. She’s watching Dabi and his riders with fearful fascination and does not seem to realize that she’s been targeted.

You don’t care if she’s a guest or not. She’s a human girl with big, lively eyes, and your adrenal glands work faster than your sense of logic.

Dabi shuts one eye, tilting his head. The corner of one lip curls ever so slightly as he concentrates, taking aim. “And that lesson is-“

“Stop.” You step in front of the window, spreading your arms and drawing his attention for the first time. When he looks at you over the top of his shotgun, his expression goes slack. He drops the shotgun and his eyes are wide, wider than they’re supposed to be, almost.

You’re close enough to see that they’re a shocking shade of blue. That blue strikes an achingly familiar chord in your heart.

You recognize those eyes.

“What the fuck!”

If the holo-table didn’t weigh half a ton, Katsuki would’ve flipped it on its end. The feed is as smooth as ever, but his face has gone scarlet as he paces away from the table, scrubbing his hands over his face.

“What? What’s wrong?” Kirishima’s well past the end of his lunch break by now, but there’s no way in hell he’s going back to work before seeing the way this plays out.

“He stopped,” Katsuki growls. “He’s not s’posed to fucking stop.”

Dabi’s been stopped on the brink of a speech that took Katsuki days to put together. He’s been waiting to hear it delivered for weeks. It’s the speech that Dabi’s entire narrative was hinged on, forged out of countless sleepless nights and careless notes scribbled idly on coffee breaks.

“Holy shit.” There’s a genuine shock in Denki’s voice that’s enough to make Katsuki turn around. Denki’s gone white, Sero beside him, too.

“You’d better get over here and see this, dude,” Kirishima mutters, jerking his chin toward the feed. Momo’s watching over his shoulder, too, one hand pressed to her pursed lips.

“That’s a guest, isn’t it?” Sero quips. Silence settles over the room.

“I’ll get Shouto,” Momo declares, turning away and opening up her datapad.

“What’s going on?” Shouto bursts into the holo-room not two minutes later, mismatched eyes lit up with urgent concern. “Did I read your message right? I-“

Katsuki’s pacing the room, quieter than ever. Denki, Sero and Kirishima are still gathered around the feed, winding back the stream to replay the events that have sent them all spiralling. Momo’s the only one who even acknowledges his presence.

“Something’s happening in the park,” she explains, hushed and tight as she meets him at the door. “Another updated host is off-script.”

“How bad is it this time?” Shouto asks, hiding the dread that’s spreading in his gut. He had hoped that the girl from the saloon was just an unexpected glitch, but the results from Behaviour told another story.

Still, two deviances in just the first day of the update feels worse than he dreaded.

“You’d better take a look for yourself.”

Momo leads him to the holo-table and the feed, letting the other boys step aside. Shouto steps up to the projection, watching Dabi ride into town. Watching him break into the saloon with Twice and Toga, two other repurposed hosts, by his side.

He watches Toga ride off with the safe behind her and watches Dabi start his speech. And then, from a near-birds-eye view, he watches Dabi spot you of all people. Dabi lowers his rifle and strides toward you.

Shou’s heart leaps into his throat.

With dull horror he watches Dabi slip a leather-gloved hand under your chin. He watches you tilt your jaw into his touch. You’re fascinated by him. Even though the dust and pixels it's painfully obvious.

Dabi seems to notice, too, since he stoops low and hoists you over his shoulder without another word. You struggle, but he holds you fast. He strides across the road to his horse and sets you- still squirming and fighting- in the saddle, climbing on behind you and grabbing you tightly before you can escape.

Just before he spurs his gargantuan black steed forward, he pauses to glance over his shoulder. Shouto can’t be certain, but for a moment it seems like Dabi’s found the camera, staring plainly up at Shouto through its low-quality lens.

A breath passes. He looks away, gives a whistle, and disappears into the wilds beyond the town.

“That wasn’t supposed to happen,” Kirishima presses. “Katsuki, you didn’t program him to kidnap a guest, did you?”

“Of course not,” Katsuki snarls from across the room, his nerves fraying dangerously. “What kind of idiot do you think I am? Do I look like a walking liability to you?”

“Look, it’s fine,” Denki chimes in. “It’s not like he can hurt her or anything. Just chalk it up to the park experience. Tell her Dabi kidnaps random nobodies all the time.”

The room goes quiet as a crypt. Kirishima looks at Shouto. Shouto looks at Katsuki. Katsuki looks at Momo, and Momo takes a slow, deep breath.

“Do you want to tell him, Shouto?” she asks, “or should I?”

Shouto closes his eyes and tries to quell the panic rising in the back of his throat. He shoots Denki a cold look, jaw ticked but eyes blazing.

“That’s my fiancé,” he mutters, low and shaky. “Dabi kidnapped my fiancé.”

[constellaj]

just ran into your art today and. would you like to elaborate on your gay lucky in love rewrite 👀

boy would i

as always shoutouts to @crystalfloe for pitching + workshopping w me on this, ESPECIALLY on this one since it was mostly her idea!

we open up with a shot of shadow circling through amity park, looking in the windows of various citizens. danny is face-down, fast asleep; valerie is repairing some gear; tucker is being a gamer; sam is watching a horror movie; paulina is also watching a horror movie. shadow passes by all these houses and gets more and more annoyed, until he peeks the window of a large, elaborate house:

dash has drawn the curtains, turned the lights off, turned a fan up. this is his deep dark secret. he’s sitting on his bed, face lit by the dim rose glow of his laptop. the volume is turned down so low but the viewer still sees and hears him whisper along to the movie: “but we could never be together, jessica...” “but... I love you...” he’s watching a HORRIBLY cheesy hallmark romcom.

but of course nobody can KNOW he’s into chickflicks and romcoms! he’s a tough football man and it would trash his rep if anyone knew he secretly craved those deep but silly romantic stories... the tenderness, the love...

shadow has specifically been looking for a romantic.

shadow slips in and ‘possesses’ dash. possesses in quotes, because, well, even though dash is dumb and therefore easy to possess, shadow is ultimately a glorified dog, and not a fully sentient ghost; he doesn’t have any total agency in dash, and the most he can do is mess around with his emotional and hormonal balance. shadow is DISMAYED, upon entering, that dash’s deep romanticism is so repressed, and so immediately gets to work digging it out of the recesses of his brain, putting it in the forefront.

(see, what danny and the audience will learn later is, shadow is a ghost that subsists off of love. romantic love especially. he first found a ‘host’ in johnny (before he died!) because johnny and kitty were madly, ridiculously in love, and johnny especially admired kitty beyond words. they still do love each other, of course! but like all healthy relationships, they’ve learned to take breaks, and they have a ‘break week’ once every few months.)

(this, naturally, drives shadow up a WALL; after a certain level, displays of romance become like dog treats, and shadow has been downright spoiled by the overabundance of love between the two. when they take a BREAK WEEK and aren’t constantly showering each other (and therefore him!) with affection, he needs to go find another host, because clearly they do not love him and have forsaken him. they kick miette.)

since shadow’s prime host for so long has been johnny, his understanding of a few... norms... are bleeding over. dash shows up to school with a leather jacket and a motorcycle (his family’s rich, of course he’s had one). his hair is slicked back and the cologne is overpowering. while danny and others think it’s just another asshole stage of dash, kwan (as well as the popular kids, but kwan especially) notices something’s wrong. it’s not quite... dash. 

yeah, he’s happy-- well, he’s also strangely flirty with everyone (shadow is testing the waters, trying to find out who is the best match). and kwan LOVES that he’s happy. but he’s a little too daydreamy, he laughs a little too long. he is having horrible luck all day, but he just keeps taking it in stride. dash is concerned with appearances, but this is the first time he’s put in effort like it was for other people to see. he’s a little too suave. his eyes reflect just a little too much light.

and then-- luck of luck-- shadow finds the big name repressed crush.

fenton! of course!

danny did NOT want to deal with dash towering over him and slamming him into the wall, but he didn’t KNOW how to deal with dash leaning over him and telling him he looked cute. danny’s flustered! of course he is! well, yeah, dash is an asshole, he knows that, yeah he’s a stuck up rich kid, YES SAM, he knows this (sam is not fooled by a little hair gel and some high heeled leather boots), but you can’t deny he’s, well, built. and he’s weirdly suave? and nice. he’s actually being really nice. what no of course DANNY hasn’t had a crush on DASH this whole time or anything. shut up.

the fact that dash asks him to meet him in the woods at lunch (because sam, jazz, and even tucker are increasingly concerned with dash just making moves on danny, afraid it’s some new form of abuse; and lancer keeps perceiving it as bullying since that’s their dynamic and breaking it up) and he GOES is just. well. that’s unrelated isn’t it.

they kiss and danny is starting to maybe think dash just had a homophobic middle school experience like everyone else when- his GHOST SENSE GOES OFF. RIGHT HERE? RIGHT NOW??? (gee what could be causing it?) dash cracks a joke about him using too many breath mints and danny panics, bullshits an excuse, and runs off to transform and find the ghost.

dash thinks he’s been rejected and almost shakes out shadow’s possession from the sheer dismay, but shadow doubles down. no, no, we can find another crush. somewhere.

...oh hey! the ghost boy!

time to double down on the ghost aesthetics.

danny’s just finished fighting kitty (”where’s your boyfriend” “that’s none of your BUSINESS!”) when there’s a motorcycle rev underneath him. there’s... dash, again, but.... something feels very, very wrong.

danny lands, cautious. “hey phantom... you into biker dudes?” “don’t you have... a boyfriend...” “heee sorta dumped me in the woods”. and then danny gets close enough for his ghost sense to go off. and it clicks.

“dash, you’re possessed”

this is the ONE THING that shadow can’t have. this could be the perfect romance, and THIS GHOSTCHILD thinks he knows more about ROMANCE than SHADOW??? PSH. cue fight scene! dash of course is grappling with both not wanting to hurt phantom, but wanting this ghost out of his system, because of COURSE he’s possessed geez why else would he want to kiss FENTON of all people-- but shadow REFUSES to leave, slowly building more and more monstrous elements onto dash, darker eyes and claws, erasing his legs until it’s not dash as much as it is a large shadow monstrosity with dash at the center.

danny eventually realizes he needs a new strategy and runs for it. after a decent amount of bickering with sam/tuck, they realize that the only ones who would know how to tame shadow are.... kitty and johnny.

turns out, when shadow went missing, kitty NOTICED. (johnny didn’t! he was having a fun alone time working on his bike with loud music.) this is bad. why? well, johnny is NOT a very powerful ghost. in fact, he’s sort of the opposite. he and shadow have a symbiotic relationship of sorts; it’s shadow’s residence in him that gives him any powers at all, like the basic healing factor a ghost has, or phasing, or flying. without shadow he’s essentially a zombie, who can still be hurt in the ghost zone. NATURALLY, kitty decided to run off and retrieve shadow (because this isn’t the first time he’s run away on break week, always throwing a tantrum) before anything horrible could happen to Johnny; this is what she was doing in Amity in the first place

this is the part of the story where i reveal that the ending isnt fully fleshed out yet. in the rough conversation right it ended up with kitty and johnny trying to FORCE shadow back into johnny, and they’re getting annoyed by it, and kitty goes “well this wouldn’t be a problem if YOU weren’t so LOVING AND SENSITIVE” and johnny goes “well i wouldn’t LOVE YOU so much if you weren’t BRILLIANT and BEAUTIFUL” and they have a whole argument like that. its very funny. and shadow ends up still running away and possessing dash again.

ah, in typing this out, i have figured out an ending!

the above fight and run away happens, and there’s two endings: one where shadow possesses dash, and one where shadow possesses danny. in both, of course, the other party realizes the only way to get shadow out is through making shadow feel safe enough to leave, aka... flooding the room with romance. if dash is possessed, danny and co. realize that danny’s the prime candidate to... be the suave lil boy. if DANNY is possessed, sam and tucker begrudgingly explain that, uh, yeah, phantom might have a crush on you, he’s just really controlling of his emotions. (also kwan! kwan definitely plays a part if dash is possessed, maybe even in saying “uh... he has a bigger crush on Fenton. can you guys get him instead?” and danny. explodes)

blahlbahblah luring shadow out by being gay happens and shadow gets scooped back up by the 13s. as much as the previous argument is funny it might also be very funny if johnny literally noticed none of this, and kitty shows up like ‘you lost this’ and johnny is like. ‘...shadow? when did you leave’. anywho.

that’s the concept! the MAIN difference is that johnny and kitty actually have a very healthy and sweet relationship, and the conflict, ironically, comes from the fact that they love each other TOO much. i do love ‘dash finds out’ reveals but as far as an episodic romp goes, this might not be the best ep for him to discover the secret in. however in a oneshot or something of course you could slot that in there excellently i believe.

[hongism]

mists of celeste ➻ 26

➻ pairing: ??? x fem reader ➻ genre: space au, pirate au, space pirate!ateez, angst, smut ➻ Word Count: 4.9k ➻ Rating: M ➻ Warnings: language, violence, guns and weaponry, blood, smut, future warnings tba ➻ summary: Sneaking aboard the ship of a renowned space pirate may not have been the best idea, but you’ll have to make do with what fate has handed to you

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act four ➻ part one

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It only takes three knocks against the cool metal of the door for Seonghwa to answer it. He blinks down at you, eyes a bit wide in surprise, but you don’t let the surprise stay for long. You tug the edge of your sleeve a bit, folding the material against your palm as you fidget in front of him.

“Can I come in?” You ask in a quiet tone. You’re barely able to look him in the eye, but he seems to find some amusement in that.

“You act like we don’t do this every other night,” he teases before stepping to the side to let you into the room. “Although you’re considerably earlier than usual tonight.”

Admittedly it’s because of the nerves running through your system. Less than a day has passed since you informed Hongjoong of your identity as a Siren, and you spent the night cold and alone yesterday, thanks to Hongjoong bringing Seonghwa to the bridge to discuss things he’d said to you as well. Plans. One after the other, all options and possibilities, yet all pointing to the same end. Your revelation to him bought precious time – time that he intends to use to confront the man who betrayed him and provided a dead lead. Not the one who tore his crew apart from the inside out, no, but Hongjoong had claimed to you that this was the next best thing, and an equally terrifying adversary. He didn’t divulge the rest of his plans to you at that moment but swore to once he and Seonghwa solidified the strategy moving forward.

And thus, it is stress that brings you to Seonghwa’s door early, and the inherent need for comfort.

The door slides shut behind you, a sharp snap of the metal, and you turn to look at Seonghwa’s face at last. It’s almost intimidating how good he looks without any effort, black strands of hair framing his forehead with gentle curls. You dare to take a few steps towards him. He arches a brow as you push his back to the door, and one hand comes to rest on your hip as though by instinct.

“I-I was hoping… that, uh–” you cut yourself short. The embarrassment comes from nowhere; it’s not the first time you’ve done this, and you doubt that this will be the last, yet Seonghwa’s mere presence always makes you seize up and struggle with the smallest words. The hand on your hip shifts a bit. Then, all of a sudden, your back is the one hitting the cold surface of the door. Seonghwa’s hand remains on your hip, but he brings his other one up to cage you between the door and his body. The action makes you feel so incredibly small. Your breath catches in your throat, and you sink your teeth into your lower lip to keep a gasp from slipping out.

“Were you hoping that I’d fuck you senseless beforehand?” Seonghwa asks as though it’s the most casual question in existence. You bring a hand to his chest, slapping him for the crude comment, but don’t deny his words. Your scandalized expression merely masks the hammering beat of your heart in your chest.

“Only if you think you can manage it,” you whisper back, tilting your chin up a little. Seonghwa’s lips twitch a bit at the insinuation in your words. The hand on your hip slides upwards to land on the base of your throat, but he hesitates there. Eyes flit up to meet yours before you drape a hand atop his. A small gesture, but a confirmation and an encouragement. As his grip tightens pleasurably around your neck, you secure a leg around Seonghwa’s waist, drawing him closer to your body until all you feel is the heat of his presence. “More…”

That’s all you need to say for him to let loose a barely restrained growl, and Seonghwa secures an arm behind your back before lifting you off the door. Lips meet in a mess of teeth and saliva. Your back curves to mold against Seonghwa’s body like it’s what you’re made for, his tongue flicking over your bottom lip and begging entrance only once before you grant it.

“If you keep saying things like that, I won’t be able to hold back,” Seonghwa murmurs, still pressed tight to your lips. You thread your fingers through his dark hair and tug him back just far enough to whisper a response.

“What if I don’t want you to hold back?”

That’s the thing you’ve noticed about Seonghwa in the time you’ve known him. He is ever so patient with you. You would say that he’s guarded, but it’s anything but that in reality. He merely lays out the options before you and tells you to make the choices. He tiptoes around you like you’re a ticking time bomb, and while you appreciate his gentle nature, a large part of you just wishes that he would do whatever he wants rather than waiting for you to tell him what you desire.  

When your lips part and your back hits the mattress, Seonghwa seems to read your mind. His gaze remains soft as he bends over your reclining body on the bed, knees finding purchase on the comforter on either side of your hips. Even though you don’t have to, you still choose to voice the question lingering on your lips, if only for verbal confirmation, if only for more than that thinly veiled emotion in his eyes that you’ve missed so much in the past few years.

“What are you waiting for?”

Seonghwa hums without offering an answer for a few moments. He pulls back to straighten his back, fingers dipping down to tug the hem of his shirt out of the confines of his pants. In those moments of silence – as few as they may be – you doubt that he’s going to respond at all. As the shirt falls to the floor, toned muscles and tanned skin on clear display now, he gives you his answer.

“For it to not to be a question anymore.”

The silence between you is palpable in every sense. He moves with careful and hesitant movements, hands bracing on either side of your head when he returns to hovering over you. You slide a hand up the firm expanse of his chest only to reach around his neck and tangle your fingers in his hair. Offering a sharp tug, you revel in the hiss that whistles through his gritted teeth and the way his eyes darken with lust as he looks down at you.

“It was never a question, Park Seonghwa.”

“I don’t mean a question from this–” Seonghwa lifts a hand to press a single finger to your mouth, an amused grin toying with the corners of his own lips. That same finger slides further down to linger mere centimeters away from your chest, pinpointing your heart behind the confines of your skin and bones. “I mean from this. You have suffered enough from people who simply desire to take from you. Forgive me if I want to give you that which you are owed.”

“Just say ‘I like you’ and move on,” you scoff, tone light and teasing to deflect the harsh wave of emotions that washes over you. Seonghwa’s smile turns fond as he mulls over a response.

“Saying only that much wouldn’t do my feelings justice.”

This time when your breath catches and you choke on air, Seonghwa is there to capture your lips again. His slot against your mouth like a hot cushion, and he doesn’t wait for permission to slip his tongue into your wet heat. You can only offer a soft whine before he pulls away too soon for your liking.

“You never gave me permission,” he murmurs, breath fanning over your face. “Don’t ask me to take control. Put it in my hands and trust me with it.”

“My trust is already yours.” You exhale a small sigh and sneak your hands down to loop your fingers around Seonghwa’s belt. “And I’m giving you permission to not hold back any longer.” Seonghwa waits, eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitance. Once he’s satisfied, he dips back down and presses his lips to yours once more. The kiss is languid this time, as though you have all the time in the universe to be under Seonghwa like this. He doesn’t remain there long; instead, he drags his lips to the edge of your jaw. You’re tempted to tell him not to leave marks, but as soon as his teeth drag over the column of your throat, all reason leaves your body.

“If I were to exercise a lack of control… I would make sure everyone in the universe knew what I was doing to you.” There’s a breath of hesitation, only long enough for him to suck a mark to your skin, one that surely blossoms with reds and purples. “Because I’m greedy–” he nips at your skin as he travels lower “–and selfish–” hands slip under the hem of your shirt and goosebumps rise in the wake of his touch “–and I want you all to myself.” Seonghwa pauses his ministrations only to deprive you of your shirt, ridding the offending material and giving him more access to the unmarked skin underneath. “I would ruin you if you let me.”

“Then why don’t you shut up and show me already.” You release a huff, an indignant sound that brings a laugh out of Seonghwa. He hums a bit before tilting his head to the side. The look in his eyes is nothing short of predatory and hungry, a gleam that causes the coil in your gut to tighten further. Seonghwa’s teeth graze the junction of your neck and shoulder. He bites down hard on the skin there, not hard enough to draw blood but hard enough to elicit a prolonged moan from your lips. The sound spurs him on, tongue lapping over the skin he bit to deepen the bruise.

“Perhaps I should go even slower then? Give you a lesson in patience instead?” Your hands are fervent on his belt, rushing to tug the leather away from his body, but he stops you by placing his own hands atop yours.

“Don’t you dare.” Part of you wants to hit him, the other part wants him to merely hurry up and get on with things.

“As you wish, princess.” His brow quirks as he pulls back to sit up straight. His hands replace yours on the belt, and he rids himself of the material with much more luck than you had. You move to divest yourself of your pants, his movements encouraging you onwards. You don’t even get them halfway down before Seonghwa is stopping you, body wholly void of clothing now. He catches your hands in his own and tugs them up in one quick movement. The action brings a heady feeling with it. Seonghwa’s strength catches you off-guard, his lithe muscles exhibiting more power than you recall him having. “You surrendered all control, love. I’ll remove the rest of your clothing when I see fit.”

He moves and speaks with a certain cockiness – not one that is goading like Hongjoong’s or infuriating like Yeosang’s. The lust in his tone is thick like the air between you, and as much as you want to surrender every last bit of control in your being, something is holding you back. Seonghwa seems to notice that, hand gripping your wrists like a vice and keeping you pinned to the bed with ease, but he doesn’t move any more than that. Again, his eyes are searching yours.

“You say that you’re being selfish but am I not the selfish one?” You whisper before you can stop yourself. Seonghwa lifts his chin, eyes darting to the side as he formulates a response.

“We don’t have to do this.”

“I want it though.” A pause, a breath, then — “I want you.”

Seonghwa’s lips draw together to form a thin line. “But you don’t want this to be nothing but a fleeting feeling. You want something that lasts, something more than what you only had a taste of before. And yet…”

“I’m afraid to take it,” you finish for him. “When I let go of all control before, I lost so much. As much as I trust you, my mind refuses to push that thought to the side.” Seonghwa’s lips twitch into a smile.

“Once more,” he whispers, hands sliding down to find the hem of your pants. “If it’s what you want, let’s do this once more.” He hesitates over your skin, but the burning path of his fingers lingers. He passes the choice over to you. Sets out the options for you to make the decision, gaze ever so soft as he looks down at you. “And if it’s time that you need, I can be as patient as you need me to be. Whatever it is you want this to be… whatever it is you need me to be… I’ll do it for you.”

“And what if I want more after this?”

“I won’t take more than what you give.”

“Even if I ask you to?”

“I trust your heart more than I trust the words that come from your lips. There are many ways I would wish to have you… but unfairly is not one of them. I can sense your distress, yes, but I can’t pretend to understand your heart better than you do. You’re asking me to answer a question that only you know the answer to.” As much as you don’t want to admit it, Seonghwa is correct. Even though unspoken, you are asking him to serve your emotions on a silver platter, tell you what you are currently feeling and what you’re supposed to feel.

“Once more… with feeling,” you say with a nod. It’s more for yourself than it is for Seonghwa, but he smiles down at you nonetheless before leaning down to lay his forehead atop yours.

“I wouldn’t deprive you of that much.”

You don’t fully understand what he means by that. When you open your mouth to ask him though, Seonghwa cuts you off by cushioning your lips with his own again. He moves like he never missed a beat, like that pause for conversation was nothing more than a few seconds. You can tell that he’s taking your words to heart though; the kiss is slower this time, if possible. He doesn’t proceed without your encouragement, only beginning to tug your pants down when you drape your arms around his neck. You hook your legs around his waist once he completely divests you of the clothing. It only takes moments for his hand to press between your legs, nudging your folds apart to drag the pads of his fingers over the arousal pooling there.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he hisses through gritted teeth as he pushes a single finger into you. Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging roughly on the dark locks until he brings his lips back to yours. The two of you move as though in a trance, and your tongues press together fervently until you have to pull back to breathe. Seonghwa is quick to slip another finger in, curling them deep inside you, and the action has you releasing a string of throaty moans. Rather than letting your lips meet again, you drag your mouth down the smooth expanse of his neck and take the spotless skin between your teeth to repay his marks in kind. You release him with a lewd pop of your lips, a string of saliva connecting your bottom lip to his neck.

“I hope you still plan to fuck me senseless,” you tease through a breathy whine. Seonghwa laughs, hot breath cascading over the shell of your ear, then he catches your cartilage between his teeth. It’s meant to be a teasing action only, but he hits a nerve that has your spine curling.

“I wouldn’t dream of doing otherwise, princess.” You’re about to urge him to hurry up when his fingers slip out of you, and you instinctively tighten your thighs around his hips. His cock slides home in one swift thrust. The moan that leaves you is nothing short of obscene and loud – too loud, most likely, but you can only hope that the others are still too preoccupied with dinner to be listening in on your activities. Seonghwa sits up on his knees, hands seeking yours and your fingers thread through his without question or hesitation.

His eyes find yours. He remains completely still like that for several moments, and at first, you think it’s because he wants to give you time to adjust to his size, but even after you wiggle your hips a bit, he stays put. The heat of his stare seems to almost unmake you, take you apart bit by bit and leave you raw and bare under him. His next movement is a sudden one, but pleasurable nonetheless. It’s with a great deal of force that he pins your hands to the bed on either side of your head, cock thrusting in and out of you in a way that’s too sinful for words. You could come undone right then, but you hold on for as long as you can now that there’s uncertainty about when this might happen again. It’s not a thought you want to have and not one that should be on your mind now of all times. When Seonghwa rolls his hips against yours, the thought perishes and is overwhelmed by pleasure instead. The way in which he fucks you nearly makes you want to be selfish and greedy; it makes you want him to do the same as well, but he’s given you a chance. He’s given you patience and kindness, as much as he claims to be selfish. You want to at least honor that kindness, even if you can already guess what your answer will be.

His thrusts find a faster pace, and each one seems to hit harder than the last. If not for the chorus of moans tumbling from your lips, you’re certain that you’d be able to hear the bed squeaking and straining under your combined efforts. The slide of his member inside you is pure bliss. You have to squeeze your eyes shut to keep him from seeing the way your eyes roll back from the sensation.

“O-Oh, fuck, f-fuck, Seong… Seonghwa,” you babble, chin dropping to the side as the heat of your orgasm approaches. “I’m go-gonna cum, please, I’m gonna cum.”

“Cum for me then, princess,” Seonghwa purrs. The smile twisting his lips is sickeningly sweet, and all it takes is one more pointed thrust for you to come undone under him. He follows close behind, reaching his high with nothing more than a bitten-back groan. The warmth hits you hard, and even though you’re already spent, you let loose one more weak whimper before the breath leaves your lungs. Your chest heaves as you recover, and you blink violently at the ceiling past Seonghwa’s sweat-stricken face. When his lips brush your jaw, you twist so that your lips can meet, hot breath intermingling with his as he indulges you in an open-mouthed kiss. The emotion that twists in your gut is one that’s familiar, but also one that you’ve run from in the past. You felt it the first time you slept with Seonghwa, that warmth that scared you so much and overwhelmed every other sensation in your body. Strangely, it’s peace that washes over you. Not regret or pain or disgust. Just… peace.

…

And as it turns out, ‘once more’ became ‘twice more, plus once in the shower for good measure,’ but you really have no complaints about that because of the way Seonghwa fucked you while you had your face pressed to the cool tile of the shower wall. Frankly, you think that Seonghwa would have asked to go for another round if not for the dinging from his wristband and Hongjoong’s stony tone interrupting an otherwise intimate moment. Which is why you find yourself standing in Hongjoong’s quarters alongside Seonghwa in front of the captain’s desk well past the time you usually go to sleep. You wish you could blame Seonghwa for wearing you out, but it’s getting progressively difficult to keep your eyes open. He doesn’t seem affected at all himself, which is wildly unfair because Hongjoong’s drawling monotone is about to put you to sleep.

“We’ll need three teams for entry,” Hongjoong says through a sigh, paying your dragging yawn no mind. Seonghwa folds his arms over his chest and looks down at the map before Hongjoong, red and blue streaks covering the map in various places. You’ve all but forgotten what the map is supposed to represent – the capital maybe?

“You have Yunho down as well. Why’s that?” Seonghwa peers at Hongjoong’s unreadable expression, blinking up from the paper. Hongjoong glances between the two of you without saying anything for several moments.

“In case of emergency.”

“What kind of emergency are you expecting if you’d bring Yunho off the ship that’s not far from the arena?”

Arena. That’s a word that has been popping up incessantly since this conversation began, but no one has bothered to give you an explanation as to why it’s being thrown around so much. In fact, no one has bothered to tell you much of the plan at all or what the end goal is. It just seems to be an unspoken understanding between Hongjoong and Seonghwa, and it makes you feel like nothing more than a setpiece in the conversation.

“The arena is currently run by Vladimir the Bloody.”

That catches your attention.

“I know him,” you cut in, feeling more awake all of a sudden. “Well, not like personally know him, but I ran a file on him while I was in the military.”

“Did you?” Hongjoong regards you with curious eyes. You bob your head in confirmation with little enthusiasm and drag your tongue over your bottom lip before motioning down at the map.

“He’s technically the reason I was branded a traitor. The files I stole – there centered around a black market deal between the King of Eros and Vladimir’s crew.”

“Corruption in the military? Who would have thought?” Hongjoong’s tone is as biting as it is sarcastic, and the laugh that follows holds the same emotion. “What was Vladimir getting out of it?”

“Full sanction for any and all of his dealings. In return, he would sell out fellow pirate crews to the military officials nearby.”

Seonghwa scoffs upon hearing your explanation, arms falling to the edge of the desk as he leans over it to look Hongjoong more evenly in the eye.

“Which is why the arena is still up and running. The military shut it down for illegal gambling and cage fighting when it was under Commander Song. But if it’s under different leadership now… under Vladimir’s leadership when he has full sanction–”

“The military won’t bat an eyelash in his direction as long as he gives them what they want,” Hongjoong interrupts, nodding a few times in agreement. “Which makes this confrontation infinitely more difficult. Vladimir has never had respect for other crews, but… to sell them out? Have them murdered? Would he do that?”

“Would you?” Seonghwa’s question is spoken in a smooth and even tone. You blink away from Hongjoong, not wanting to know the answer, and he never provides a verbal one anyway, to your great relief.

“I need to be in the forward team, but Mingi can’t come with me.”

“Mingi can’t come at all,” Seonghwa insists. Perhaps you’re just stupid or slow, but the pieces finally seem to click in your mind.

“For six years, he fought in an arena here on Kebos before they were outlawed. He would win every single time. Every fight. Flawless record. By the time he was sixteen, he was at the top of everyone’s bet lists and at the top of the arena, which was expected because his father was in charge of the arena. He had won countless matches and beaten plenty of people. Kill after kill. Apparently, he was always eager to fight and kill. He was taught that people die every day, so no life is valuable or worthy of mercy. Death is natural, and it isn’t wrong to end someone’s life even if they’ve done nothing wrong. His body count… it’s unimaginable.”

“This arena – the one Vladimir runs – is it the same one Mingi fought in?”

Hongjoong and Seonghwa exchange a quick glance before turning to you with equally surprised and confused expressions.

“Jo-Jongho told me about… the – yeah. He told me,” you stammer, drawing your hands close to your chest. Hongjoong hums in acknowledgment and brings a hand up to thumb at his chin.

“Seonghwa, you and Yeosang can come with me in the forward team. Y/N, I’ll send you with Wooyoung and Yunho.”

“Neither are fighters,” Seonghwa counters. “She’s the only one who can fight on that team.”

“She shouldn’t need to fight if there are no issues.”

“That’s a big if, Hongjoong,” Seonghwa insists, chin dipping a bit.

“What? Now that you’re fucking her, you suddenly doubt her abilities to defend herself?” Hongjoong’s jeering question causes you to choke on saliva, and you cough behind the back of your hand to recover while Seonghwa manages to maintain a flat expression. “If you’re asking why I wouldn’t keep the two of you at my side, that would be too risky. You have to be at my side as my lieutenant, Seonghwa. The best way to keep Y/N safe and out of harm’s way is by–”

“Putting her with people who can defend her.”

“No, it’s by putting her with people who won’t draw attention.”

“You think Wooyoung won’t draw attention?” Seonghwa’s tone rises a little, but it doesn’t daunt Hongjoong in the slightest. The shorter man merely stands up straight and folds his arms over his chest while staring Seonghwa down.

“San and Jongho can quell Mingi, Jongho better than anyone. This isn’t going to be easy for anybody on the crew, but Mingi is a priority. The two of you need to be safe, yes, but trust that I put at least a semblance of faith in your abilities to stay alive and not be taken captive. Jongho has to go with Mingi, but Yunho cannot go with them. Yeosang only trusts Yunho, Jongho, and myself to keep Wooyoung safe in his stead but refuses to let Wooyoung be anywhere near Mingi in case of emergencies. I need Yeosang at my side with you for intimidation purposes only. Yes, Y/N and San could switch places, and she could go with Jongho and Mingi. However, in the event that Mingi suffers an episode, San is better equipped to help Jongho handle it than Y/N is, considering she’s never experienced it firsthand. Don’t you see that this is the best course of action?”

“I do, Captain,” Seonghwa responds, tone flat with defeat. “But revenge isn’t the best course of action no matter what.”

“I understand that you fear for my safety, Hwa. We both know that I didn’t become the most feared pirate in the universe without having to take risks. I need information. I need to know who my information broker really was, why they lied, why I was given a dead lead, and where the hell Jin is right now. Be it luck or fate, Y/N has given us precious time to get the answers to these questions. If anyone is going to have those answers, it’s going to be Vladimir. We’ll reconvene tomorrow to tie up the last few stray threads. The two of you can return to your… activities now. I need to make some calls.”

Seonghwa doesn’t offer an answer, but he doesn’t need to because Hongjoong turns away from the desk to move to another part of the office. You don’t wait for either of them to usher you out again, heading for the door without a word. Seonghwa follows you, but not without looking back at Hongjoong’s pacing form at the other end of the room. You dare to breach the topic once the door to Hongjoong’s room hisses shut.

“Are you worried?”

“Worried isn’t the right word for it,” Seonghwa admits, bringing a hand up to rub at the back of his neck. “I fear that this might not end the way Hongjoong hopes it to.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Consider this… if you were forced to suddenly returned to the military without warning, forced back into the place you hate the most and have the most regrets, how would you feel?” Seonghwa pauses, but it isn’t to let you formulate an answer. He turns to look at Hongjoong’s door and blinks at the metal with an expression void of emotion. “He’s going to unmake Mingi if he isn’t careful. I don’t think he realizes that.”

✧✧✧ a/n: i almost said surprise but then remembered that i am in fact 30 minutes late sdfjuisdhfuih okay but anyway! hello yes! first chapter of act four! how do we feel! i feel like not a lot happened? this acts as a big set up for what’s to come and there are so many hints and crumbs scattered throughout this chapter asfoijsdofij okay but anyway yes i hope you guys enjoy lemme know what you think :3 oH ALSO HI YES SEXY NEW BANNER!!!!!!!

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[namgee]

implications | knj

❥pairing: Namjoon x Reader (f)   ❥genre: fluff, slice of life (pg) ❥word count: 2.3k ❥summary: The adventurer life isn’t for you. You like your routines and you stick to them, but a small mess-up finally forces you beyond your desired level of social interaction as you rely on a stranger. A stranger whose actions and words imply things you wish to explore. ❥warnings: none  ❥a/n: this was just a quick little thing I wrote a few days ago before I got started on another smut fic which should come out in about a week 😋 ^^ I did a quick proofread so sorry for any mistakes 😣

A silence that sounds with turning pages, graphite scraping against thick paper and the ever present hums that arise from thought. Your ears anticipate it even before you're there. It’s, for the most part, the same soundscape you’ve grown accustomed to since you started visiting the art atelier. Well, the building technically has multiple ateliers, whatever your artistic interest, for a reasonable fee each month, you can visit the space and use their resources. Each floor focuses on certain subject areas, people are allowed to move around and work wherever they want. Like a Google workspace except for the arts.

You usually stick to the 4th floor, where most of the graphics tools are. The elevator dings, you step away from the metallic box and towards the senior part-time receptionist, Diane, who gives unsolicited artistic advice under the guise that old age equates to prowess in art criticism. The advice isn’t half as bad as you expected still, you rarely take it. You place your folder on the desk giving her a smile, teeth barely visible, it’s the best iteration of ‘a lady should always smile when talking to others’ smile you can muster with your lips chapped from the borderline glacial air you had to walk through this afternoon.

“Well, hello young lady! You haven’t visited the establishment in a while. Mateo has been asking about you actually.”

Mateo is the head of the graphic art department who you might or might not like, there’s still a few weeks left for you to decide. Your roommate, Jovian, had given you the ultimatum, “You have until you finish whatever creature you’re trying to collage together this time around,” she had said waving her half painted stiletto nail around before diverting her attention to another girl who also seemed to be having a hard time choosing as her family and in laws attempted to decide for her. On one thing you were sure, you would have said no to the dress she had on.

“There we have it! That’s a much better smile that one you gave before. It’s always best to show some teeth,” Diane says, her two row of teeth (some of which look awfully fake) in full display.

“I’ll sure think about it next time Diane. I’m just here to check in right now,” you sigh, removing your decaying gloves which have lost their purpose, your fingers are about as stale as Diane’s as you fish around for your membership card in your wallet.

“The time please darling.”

“3pm to 8pm,” you say blowing warm air into your palms.

It takes a few minutes for her to find your name in the system. “Oh sweetheart, it seems someone else already took your spot.”

“Exactly how did they take my spot?”

“Hmmm,” Diane’s eyes lift upwards as she tries to find an answer in the air, “to be quite frank with you I do not know.” She sounds shocked that she doesn’t know something.

“Uh, excuse me?” Someone questions from behind you. You both turn towards the voice coming from a golden haired man sporting what is most likely the best variant of the fully toothed lady smile Diane advocates for. To make matters even better it’s shaped like a heart. “I believe that I was the one who took the spot.” he giggles nervously as if caught red-handed before sliding his own card onto the desk.

You assume he’s here to work with graphics for some sort of fashion related purpose, in fact he sort of looks like the graphics plastered around the building: colourful, bold, warm but still a bit overwhelming.

“You’re indeed the one who booked the slot first, young man.”

“I believe that this is what the trainer for my position was referring to as a glitch in the system.” Diane says with an air of pride.

“Hm, sorry about that,” The human embodiment of a colour wheel says with an apologetic pout.

“Oh, don’t worry I’m sure I can find another place, it isn’t your fault,” you wave your hand around giving him your second or third genuine smile of the day. He mumbles a shy ‘okay’ before heading right, away from you.

“Can you see if there’s any place on the other floors?” You reluctantly ask, after all you had never gone to other floors unless it was to buy snacks because the queues on the 4th floor were too long or to find unoccupied bathrooms.

Diane finds you an opening for the floor above. You thank her and move back to catch the elevator doors right before they close, swiftly slipping in towards a surprised figure, a big figure. You mumble a quick apology after bumping into him. When you turn your head to look at him he gives you what you assume to be his own equivalent of the barely noticeable smile you gave Diane a few minutes ago.

The ride takes a few seconds. You rush out the second the opening of the doors is big enough for you slip past if you just take a deep breath in. Another second goes by where you feel disoriented. The floor layout is not that different from the one beneath but the place looks far more cramped than what you expected. Don’t writers like to be alone? In their own space?

You watch as Mr. Big gives yet another one of his glances, you haven’t figured out how to describe them yet, you don’t know if you’re being judged or just being perceived or whatever it is that writers do.

He goes to the right, so you take the other way. You peruse the space for a place you could sit down to work on your project. Somehow, the writers with their notebooks and laptops seem stingy about letting you settle down despite how packed the floor already is.

For every glance you take at a potential working spot you receive three glances and these ones you know to be of the judgy kind. You walk and walk only to end up on square one. Just to make sure, you do another round and another one as if you were in a full parking lot waiting for one of the cars to magically pull out for you to get a place. By your third tentative walk, the one where you put the most effort to seem approachable and nice, someone takes pity on you.

It seems it’s not only his stature that is big but so is his heart.

“Oh god, thank you!” You sigh, sliding into Mr. Big’s little corner which faces backwards from the café.

“It was starting to look... sad.” He gives you a brief look before focusing back on his laptop screen.

“It wouldn’t have been, if you writers were more welcoming,” you scoff, shrugging off your jacket, the rustling brings your actions to his focus.

A delicate slender hand pushes against his glasses as he leans back, “You’re quite the daredevil, huh?”

“What? Why would you say that?”

“I don’t know, slipping past closing elevator doors and sitting down to probably do something noisy with a lot of... “ He takes a look at your stash of materials, “things while surrounded by silence seeking writers. Those things make me say that.”

“That’s a very boring view on action. Also the concept of this building is literally to allow anyone to work anywhere.”

“Sure, you’re right but just because that’s their goal doesn’t mean it turns out that way. This place is no different from high school, certain spaces have been sort of ‘claimed’.”

“And you expect me to act like a good teenage girl and not start trouble?”

“Your words, not mine.”

“Aren’t you a writer? You should know certain words can imply certain things,” you say matter of factly and receive a disjointed but delightful laugh as his hand fists to cover his wide smile.

“Anything else you know about writers that you would like to share?”

“You might end up making a character out of me, or a scene out of my situation.” You’re playing on stereotypes but for all you know they could be true. You lay out your material on the table forcing him to scoot a bit. He doesn’t protest and you appreciate that, so you give me a genuine tight lipped ‘thank you’ smile.

“So what are you doing?” He asks, lowering his computer screen a bit.

“A collage.”

“Of what?”

“I don’t really know yet. I’m just figuring it out as I go.” You stare at the big pile of magazines, newspapers and flyers you managed to collect over the past month. Something has to come out of it. “What about you?”

“Pretty similar actually, I just came here to write, figuring it out as I go you know.” He picks up a piece of paper nearest to him, a green flyer. “Do you even know what it says?” He holds it up to you. The text is in Arabic.

“No, I don’t.”

“Wouldn’t you want to know? I mean the work will be tied to you.” He questions.

“It doesn't matter, it’s not like anyone will see this,” you mumble, snatching the flyer from him.

“Someone should, I don’t know much about collages, actually I know nothing, but I like what I see so far.”

“What exactly do you see?” You probe.

“Ummm… uhhhh… it’s– there’s branches and,” he leans over to get a better look and hesitates “tentacles? Okay, so maybe I don’t know what it is, but I still stand by it. It’s nice to look at.”

“Would you give it as a gift to someone?” You probe even further.

“You know what, I’m just trying to tell you I like it. Like I would totally buy it! So yes, I would give it to someone, myself!” He has an overly cheery voice that encourages more glances your way. The more you look, the more you start thinking they’re watching you and not judging.

“How much?”

He gives you an incredulous expression, he seems both intrigued and confused with behaviour.

You snort a short laugh, “I’m just messing with you. But don’t get me wrong if you do want to buy it then I’m definitely taking offers.”

At that he retreats back into himself and his silence to focus on the blank document page. You shrug it away, you knew his words were too good to be true.

The two of you work in relative silence, your ripping and cutting does add a bit of a soundtrack for the period of time. After an hour or so of working, you move to buy a cinnamon bun, and while you’re at it you buy a second one. You did feel a bit apologetic for disturbing his workspace, you of all people should know.

You place his plate beside him but he’s too engrossed into his writing to provide any response. He does finally whisper a shy ‘thanks’ once he lifts his gaze from the screen. You answer with a nonchalant but truthful ‘no biggie’.

The hours bleed into themselves and soon enough your allocated time is about to run out. You’re quite used to that routine,packing up your material well in time to leave. However, the man in front of you doesn’t seem to have a good grasp of time. Last minute, he hurries to assemble his belongings, swiftly turning around to check that he hasn’t left anything behind, almost knocking down the plate that you manage to catch.

Your elevator ride to the bottom floor is as silent as the one you had earlier. You walk with synchronised strides somehow following the same way after you leave the building. You’re sure one of you is following the other, but as long as you’re concerned you’re taking the way back home. You walk in silence for a few more minutes before you think of asking him where he lives, just to make sure but he beats you to speaking.

“So uhhh, would–” he starts off in a high pitched voice which he masks with a cough, “I meant, would you like to grab a coffee?”

“At 8pm?” Your eyebrows shoot up.

“Or a drink?” He suggests.

“What does coffee or a drink mean?”

“I thought you were good at getting the implications of certain words.” He smirks, which seems out of character, but then again you don’t know him. You’re just curious about something first.

“What did you end up writing?”

“A short story about an avid museum visitor that discovers a collage at an exhibition that has him intrigued.” He chuckles knowing very well it just proves your point. And you smile satisfied to have finally figured out what that particular glance of his meant. He was just taking you in.

“It’s Y/N by the way,” you would have reached out your hand towards him but they’re cold so you compensate with a warm smile Diane would approve of. “And I wouldn’t mind a drink right now.”

“I’m Namjoon and I’m very happy you said that” He punctuates his excitement with a dimple. The same one you would come to grow enamoured with, so much you would make a collage piece out of all the pictures you’ve taken where it is present. In return, he would, just as he did today, unconsciously and deliberately write your works into his stories, and welcome you into his space.

“By the way, when you let me sit with you in your space, were you claiming me then?” You ask out of curiosity and urge to mess with him.

“I– I don’t know what you’re implying. But if you mean me taking pity on you then yes.” You scoff a bit too loud at his response. “But I wouldn’t be opposed to whatever it is you have in mind,” He says, looking down at your quizzical expression with warm eyes and a restrained laugh as he walks closer to you. It seems you’re not the only one who’s good with implications.

thank you for reading my fic, i hope you enjoyed it 🥺 any feedback or comment is welcomed !!

all rights reserved namgee

[atotaltaitaitale]

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When you have too many luxury cars to park but the land is scarced where you live 😉

This is actually ABM (autobahn motors) second “vending machine” style dealership.

About the first location: Singapore is now home to the world’s largest luxury car vending machine after used car dealer Autobahn Motors unveiled a futuristic 15-story showroom in December 2017. The tower comprises 60 slots with vehicles ranging from luxury sports cars to classics, including Ferraris, Bentleys, Lamborghinis, among others. Customers can select any available car from a touchscreen display on the ground floor, which is then retrieved within one to two minutes credit to an advanced vehicle retrieval system installed in the tower.