#a world of carefully-constructed random chaos

[elryuse]

Pt. 3 About Him

BABEL'S CHAINS MASTERLIST : HERE

Wonyoung's Pov

A Breath Of Fresh Air

The warm sunlight bathed the pristine walkways of Babel University as I walked alongside my group. Yujin, our confident leader, led the conversation as usual, her sharp voice cutting through the air. Beside her, Gaeul and Liz giggled at something Rei had just said, while Leeseo scrolled on her phone, only half paying attention.

"Can you believe him?” Yujin scoffed, her expression one of disdain. “Bumping into Wonyoung like that and not even apologizing? It’s just pathetic. And Karina’s group didn’t even acknowledge it. They just walked off like they own the place.”

My heart tightened at the mention of him.

I knew who she was talking about—Y/n. The quiet scholarship student who had somehow, unintentionally, thrown my entire world into chaos.

“I mean, seriously,” Yujin continued, her arms crossing over her chest. “It’s one thing for some nobody to be clumsy, but for Aespa to not step in? Unacceptable.”

Gaeul nodded in agreement, her brows furrowing. “Karina and her group think they’re untouchable. Just because they’re gorgeous and rich doesn’t mean they can act like they’re above everyone else.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re just keeping him around for entertainment,” Rei added with a smirk. “Karina probably sees him as her newest plaything.”

Their words buzzed around me like static, but I barely registered them. My thoughts were somewhere else—on Y/n.

A Quiet Obsession

It had been a week since the incident. A week since Y/n had accidentally bumped into me in the crowded hallway, scattering my books across the floor. I’d been furious at first, glaring at him as he stumbled over his words, apologizing profusely.

But then… he had knelt down to pick up my books, his hands trembling slightly. His expression had been so earnest, so genuine.

“Sorry,” he’d said again, his voice soft and sincere. “I didn’t mean to…”

It was such a small moment, barely a blip in the chaos of Babel University, but for some reason, it had stuck with me.

I couldn’t stop thinking about him.

His quiet demeanor, the way he seemed so out of place among the arrogant and flashy students of Babel—it was intriguing. He wasn’t like the guys here, who spent their nights partying and their days bragging about their conquests. Y/n was… different.

Innocent.

Soft-spoken.

A breath of fresh air.

And that terrified me.

A Mask to Hide Behind

“Wonyoung?” Yujin’s voice pulled me from my thoughts.

I blinked, realizing the group had stopped walking. They were all looking at me expectantly.

“What?” I asked, my voice sharper than I intended.

Yujin raised an eyebrow. “I said, what do you think about it? About him?”

My heart skipped a beat. “Who?”

“Y/n,” Yujin said, her tone laced with annoyance. “The guy who bumped into you. Or have you already forgotten?”

“Of course not,” I said quickly, forcing a nonchalant shrug. “He’s… just some random guy. Not worth talking about.”

Yujin smirked, clearly pleased with my response. “Exactly. He’s irrelevant. Let Karina’s group play with him if they want. It won’t end well for him anyway.”

The others laughed, and I forced myself to join in, even though my chest felt tight.

What was wrong with me? Why did I care about him so much?

A Moment Alone

Later that evening, I found myself sitting alone in the campus gardens. The sun was setting, casting a warm orange glow over the perfectly manicured hedges and fountains.

I took a deep breath, trying to clear my mind. But no matter how hard I tried, Y/n’s face kept appearing in my thoughts.

I didn’t understand it. I barely knew him, yet there was something about him that drew me in. His innocence, his kindness—it was like a beacon in the darkness of Babel’s cutthroat world.

But I couldn’t let myself feel this way. I had a reputation to uphold. I was Jang Wonyoung, the princess of Babel University. I couldn’t let a scholarship student like Y/n derail my carefully constructed image.

And yet…

I found myself smiling at the memory of his awkward apology, the way his cheeks had flushed when he realized who I was.

“Maybe…” I whispered to myself, “just maybe…”

But I didn’t finish the thought.

The sound of footsteps approaching snapped me out of my reverie. I quickly composed myself, slipping my mask of indifference back on.

“Wonyoung,” Yujin called, her voice carrying across the garden. “What are you doing out here?”

“Nothing,” I said, standing up and brushing off my skirt. “Just enjoying the sunset.”

Yujin gave me a curious look but didn’t press further. “Come on. The others are waiting.”

I nodded, falling into step beside her. But as we walked away, I couldn’t help but glance back at the garden, my thoughts once again drifting to Y/n.

Y/n’s POV

The library was quieter than usual, the hum of whispers and the occasional rustling of papers filling the air. I sat across from Karina and Giselle, a project we’d been assigned in full swing. Despite the peaceful surroundings, my mind was elsewhere, wandering to the events of the day and the strange attention I’d been receiving since arriving at Babel.

“Y/n,” Giselle’s voice cut through my thoughts like a knife, “are you even paying attention?”

Before I could react, she snapped her fingers right in front of my eyes. I flinched, blinking rapidly as my focus returned to the table.

“Ah! Sorry!” I stammered, rubbing the back of my neck.

Giselle chuckled, her grin mischievous. “There you are. We’re supposed to be working on this together, remember?”

Karina, sitting beside her, let out a soft laugh as well, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Don’t be too hard on him, Giselle. He’s probably overwhelmed being in such prestigious company.”

I felt my face heat up at her teasing tone. “I’m not overwhelmed,” I muttered, looking down.

Karina smiled knowingly and slid a stack of papers toward me. “Here, this might help. And take this.” She handed me a sleek, expensive-looking pen.

“Thanks,” I murmured, taking the pen and quickly jotting down the notes they’d been discussing.

The atmosphere at the table was surprisingly light. Karina and Giselle seemed relaxed, chatting easily about the project and occasionally throwing in a teasing remark. For a moment, I almost felt comfortable.

But that moment didn’t last long.

Unwelcome Interruptions

The sound of heels clicking against the polished library floor drew my attention. I looked up just in time to see Yujin and Gaeul approaching our table, their expressions sharp and unyielding.

My heart sank.

“Here we go,” Giselle muttered under her breath, exchanging a glance with Karina.

“Y/n,” Yujin said, her tone clipped as she stopped beside the table. “We need to talk.”

“Now’s not really a good time,” Karina interjected, her voice cool and calm.

Yujin’s eyes narrowed, but she didn’t address Karina. Instead, she focused on me. “You owe Wonyoung an apology,” she said bluntly.

I blinked, taken aback. “An apology? For what?”

“For bumping into her last week,” Gaeul added, crossing her arms. “And for not showing proper respect to her afterward.”

“Are you serious?” Giselle said, leaning back in her chair with an incredulous look. “It was an accident. Let it go.”

“It’s not your business, Giselle,” Yujin snapped, her gaze icy. “This is between him and us.”

Karina let out a low laugh, leaning forward slightly. “You’ve got some nerve barging in here and making demands.”

“Stay out of this, Karina,” Yujin said, her tone full of warning. “We’re not here for you.”

Caught in the Crossfire

I could feel the tension in the air thickening, like a storm about to break. My stomach churned as I glanced between the two groups, unsure of what to do or say.

“I… I didn’t mean to offend anyone,” I said finally, my voice hesitant.

“An apology isn’t just about meaning well,” Yujin shot back. “It’s about showing respect. Do you even understand who Wonyoung is?”

“Enough,” Karina said sharply, cutting Yujin off. “You don’t get to lecture him like he’s beneath you.”

“Because he is beneath us,” Gaeul said, her tone dripping with disdain.

My hands clenched into fists under the table, frustration bubbling up inside me. “I don’t think anyone’s beneath anyone,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “And I didn’t mean to bump into her. It was an accident.”

Yujin scoffed. “Accidents don’t excuse rudeness.”

“Rudeness?” Giselle said, raising an eyebrow. “You’re the ones barging in here and causing a scene.”

Gaeul ignored her, stepping closer to the table. “We’re not leaving until you apologize properly.”

“Then you’ll be here for a while,” Karina said coolly, folding her arms.

Unexpected Words

I felt trapped, my mind racing for a way to diffuse the situation. Just as I opened my mouth to say something, a new voice cut through the tension.

“Enough.”

We all turned to see Wonyoung standing a few feet away, her expression unreadable.

“Wonyoung?” Yujin said, surprised.

“Let it go,” Wonyoung said, her voice calm but firm. “He doesn’t need to apologize.”

“But—” Yujin began, only for Wonyoung to hold up a hand to silence her.

“It was an accident,” Wonyoung continued, her gaze briefly meeting mine before shifting away. “And I don’t want to make a big deal out of it.”

The room fell silent, the tension slowly dissipating as Wonyoung’s words sank in.

“Fine,” Yujin said reluctantly, though her glare made it clear she wasn’t happy about it. “Let’s go.”

With one last look at me, she turned and walked away, Gaeul following close behind.

Aftermath

As the door to the library closed behind them, I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

“Well,” Giselle said, breaking the silence, “that was… dramatic.”

Karina chuckled, her smirk returning. “You’re handling the chaos of Babel better than I expected, Y/n.”

“Thanks, I guess,” I said, my voice shaky.

Karina’s smirk softened into a smile as she slid the papers back toward me. “Come on. Let’s finish this project.”

And just like that, the tension was gone, replaced by the comforting rhythm of work. But even as I focused on the task at hand, I couldn’t shake the image of Wonyoung standing there, her voice calm and commanding.

What was going on in this university?

The streets outside Babel University buzzed with life as I followed Karina toward her apartment. She’d insisted I come over to help cook for Winter, who was down with a nasty cold. It wasn’t exactly how I imagined ending my day, but I couldn’t refuse her request—especially after she mentioned she didn’t know how to cook.

“Do you cook often?” Karina asked, glancing at me with a curious smile as we walked.

“Not often, but I know the basics,” I replied. “Enough to get by.”

Karina nodded approvingly. “Good. Winter’s picky, but I’m sure she’ll appreciate a home-cooked meal.”

As we continued through the quiet streets, I noticed a small minimarket nestled between apartment complexes. “I’ll need to grab some groceries if we’re cooking,” I said, pointing to the store.

“Good idea,” Karina agreed. “I’ll wait outside.”

A Heated Argument

The minimarket was surprisingly empty, save for the faint hum of a fridge and a heated argument near the counter. As I moved toward the produce section, the sharp voice of a young woman caught my attention.

“What do you mean this store doesn’t accept black cards? Do you even know how much money I have on this card?”

The cashier, a middle-aged man, looked exasperated but stood his ground. “I’m sorry, lady, but we only accept cash. It’s store policy.”

“Aishh…” The girl groaned, rubbing her temples. “I don’t carry cash. And I’m thirsty as hell. Are you seriously telling me I can’t get this stupid bottle of water?”

I paused, watching the scene unfold. The girl was tall and striking, her dyed blonde hair tied in a messy bun. She wore a designer tracksuit, and the way she spoke made it clear she was used to getting her way.

The cashier shrugged. “I don’t make the rules.”

The girl sighed dramatically, muttering under her breath. She looked genuinely frustrated, and for some reason, I felt compelled to step in.

“Excuse me,” I said, walking up to the counter. “I can pay for it.”

She turned to me, her eyes wide with surprise. “Huh? No, you don’t have to do that.”

“It’s fine,” I insisted, already pulling out a few bills. “It’s just water.”

She hesitated, her pride warring with her obvious need for the drink. Finally, she relented, crossing her arms with a small huff. “Fine. But just this once.”

The cashier rang up the water, and I handed over the cash. The girl grabbed the bottle, taking a long sip before turning back to me.

An Unexpected Introduction

“Thanks,” she said, her voice softer now. “I was about to lose it back there.”

“No problem,” I replied, feeling a bit awkward under her intense gaze.

She straightened up and gave me a small bow, her expression shifting to something more genuine. “I’m Yuna. Thanks for helping me out.”

“Y/n,” I replied.

She tilted her head, studying me for a moment. “You’re not from around here, are you?”

“Uh, no. I’m a scholarship student at Babel,” I explained.

Her eyes widened slightly. “Babel? Huh. You don’t look like the type to survive there.”

I chuckled nervously. “Yeah, I’ve heard that a lot.”

“Well, Y/n,” she said, her tone turning playful, “I guess you’re alright. Maybe I’ll see you around.”

Before I could respond, she turned on her heel and sauntered out of the store, leaving me standing there in a daze.

Groceries and Questions

I quickly grabbed the ingredients I needed—some chicken, vegetables, and a few seasonings—and headed back outside, where Karina was waiting.

“What took you so long?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“There was… a situation,” I said vaguely, not sure how to explain the encounter with Yuna.

Karina gave me a knowing smile. “Let me guess. You got caught up helping someone again?”

“Maybe,” I admitted.

She laughed, shaking her head. “You’re too nice for your own good, Y/n.”

Cooking with Karina

Back at their apartment, I got to work in the small but well-equipped kitchen. Karina hovered nearby, watching curiously as I chopped vegetables and seasoned the chicken.

“You’re surprisingly good at this,” she remarked, leaning against the counter.

“Thanks,” I said, focusing on the task. “I had to learn a bit growing up.”

As the aroma of the food filled the apartment, Karina’s phone buzzed. She checked it and frowned.

“Winter’s asking if it’s ready yet,” she said with a sigh.

“Almost,” I replied, plating the food carefully.

When it was done, Karina helped me carry the dishes to Winter’s room. The sick girl looked up from her bed, her face lighting up at the sight of the meal.

“You actually cooked?” Winter asked, her voice hoarse but teasing.

“Don’t get used to it,” Karina shot back with a smirk. “It’s all thanks to Y/n.”

“Thanks, Y/n,” Winter said with a small smile.

As I sat down to eat with Karina and Giselle in the living room, my thoughts drifted back to Yuna. Something about her stuck with me, and I had a feeling our paths would cross again.

The warm glow of the apartment lights felt cozy as we finished the meal together. Winter, now looking much more energetic, leaned back against the cushions with a satisfied sigh.

“This was amazing,” she said, looking at me with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “You’ve got some serious cooking skills, Y/n.”

“Thanks,” I replied, rubbing the back of my neck awkwardly.

Out of nowhere, Winter leaned forward and planted a quick kiss on my cheek. My body froze, and I felt my face heat up instantly.

“Winter!” Karina and Giselle exclaimed simultaneously, their voices a mix of surprise and disbelief.

Winter just smirked, leaning back and crossing her arms confidently. “What? I can’t kiss the man who cooked this wonderful meal for me?”

I stammered, completely caught off guard, while Karina and Giselle exchanged an unspoken look. It was quick, but there was an undeniable tension in their gazes—something between annoyance and amusement.

“Don’t scare him off, Winter,” Giselle finally said with a laugh, trying to lighten the mood.

“Scare him off?” Winter chuckled, making a funny face as she watched how red my face had become. “Come on, he’s fine. Look, he’s blushing like crazy!”

I sighed in defeat, shaking my head. “You’re impossible.”

Karina and Giselle burst into laughter, and Winter joined in, clearly enjoying the chaos she’d stirred up.

Where’s Ningning?

As the laughter settled, I glanced around the apartment. “By the way, where’s Ningning?” I asked.

“She had a family dinner tonight,” Karina explained, brushing her hair back casually. “Otherwise, she’d be here causing even more trouble.”

“Lucky me, I guess,” I said with a small smile, earning a playful nudge from Giselle.

“She’d probably make you cook for her too,” Giselle teased. “You’d never get out of here."

A Late Night Departure

After the meal, I insisted on helping clean up. Karina handed me a dish towel while Giselle worked on packing away leftovers. Winter sat on the couch, scrolling through her phone but occasionally tossing in snarky comments.

“You’re really something, Y/n,” Karina said as I scrubbed a plate. “Most guys wouldn’t bother helping.”

“I’m just doing what’s right,” I replied, trying to keep my focus on the task.

When the dishes were done and the living room tidied up, I glanced at the clock on the wall. It was getting late, and the thought of cycling home in the dark didn’t exactly thrill me.

“Well, I think I should head out,” I said, grabbing my jacket.

“What? Already?” Winter asked, pouting dramatically.

“You could stay a little longer,” Karina suggested, her voice light but her eyes almost hopeful.

“I’m pretty tired,” I admitted. “And I still have an early class tomorrow.”

The girls exchanged looks before reluctantly agreeing.

“Fine,” Giselle said, leaning against the counter. “But next time, you’re staying longer. No excuses.”

Winter made another funny face. “And cooking for all of us again.”

I laughed softly. “We’ll see.”

The Reluctant Goodbye

As I moved toward the door, Karina walked me out, her hands resting casually in her pockets.

“Thanks again for helping out tonight,” she said, her tone more sincere now. “It really means a lot.”

“Anytime,” I replied, smiling. “Take care of Winter. And yourself.”

She nodded, giving me a small wave as I stepped out into the cool night air. The city streets were quiet, save for the distant hum of cars. As I pedaled home, my mind replayed the events of the night.

Winter’s unexpected kiss, Karina’s subtle glances, and Giselle’s teasing comments all swirled in my thoughts. It felt like I was stepping into something I didn’t fully understand—something dangerous yet oddly enticing.

I shook my head, focusing on the road ahead. Whatever it was, I’d have to figure it out one step at a time.

To be continued

[ayaki-channn]

VEIL OF WINTER'S EMBRACE.

-S. Haruchiyo

WARNINGS: Themes of violence and crime, emotional distress, and depictions of toxic relationships.

DESCRIPTION: Sanzu Haruchiyo must choose between the allure of danger and the redemptive power of love, revealing the fragile beauty that can blossom even in the harshest cold.

In the heart of winter, the air was sharp and biting, each breath crystallizing like whispers of secrets long buried beneath layers of snow. The world outside lay draped in white, a pristine facade that belied the chaos lurking just beneath its surface.

Amidst this serene backdrop, You stood by your frosted window, gaze lost in the swirling snowflakes. Each flake danced in the dim light, a fleeting reminder of the beauty that existed outside their tangled thoughts. Your heart ached with a familiar heaviness, a reminder of Haruchiyo, the man you loved, who now felt more like a ghost haunting your days than a partner you could rely on.

Sanzu Haruchiyo was entangled in the dark underbelly of Japan, a rising star in the most dangerous criminal organization in the nation. Your relationship, once a sanctuary of warmth and romance, had become a battlefield of silences and unspoken fears. Each time he slipped away into the shadows of his world, he left behind an emptiness that threatened to swallow you whole.

As you wrapped your arms around yourself, a shiver ran down your spine—not just from the cold, but from the realization that you were losing him to a world that demanded his devotion far beyond what your heart could endure.

The door creaked open with a reluctant sigh, revealing Haruchiyo, whose weary silhouette cut a stark figure against the soft illumination of the room. He stepped inside, his coat heavy with the chill of the winter night, the weight of his existence palpable in the air. Fatigue etched deep lines across his face, a canvas painted with shadows that told tales of a world far removed from your own.

Without sparing you a glance, he strode to the bar, pouring himself a glass of rich, dark wine. The crimson liquid sloshed gently, as if reluctant to leave the bottle, mirroring the tumult within your heart. You watched him, feeling the familiar ache of longing twist within you, but it was swiftly overshadowed by a profound sorrow.

“Haruchiyo,” you ventured, voice trembling, a fragile whisper in the oppressive silence.

“What am I to you?”

He paused, the glass hovering at his lips, the question hanging in the air like a haunting specter. When he finally turned to you, his expression was a carefully constructed mask, revealing nothing of the tumultuous emotions that roiled beneath.

“You?” he replied, his tone devoid of warmth, slicing through the air with a dispassionate edge. “You are merely a slut I plucked from a club one random night. Nothing more.”

The chill of his words seeped into your very bones, and you felt as though the warmth of your shared moments had been extinguished, leaving only a cold, echoing void in its place. He regarded you with a detached indifference, as if you were a fleeting amusement, a mere trinket in his lavish life.

“Consider yourself fortunate to remain here,” he continued, his voice casual, as if discussing the weather. “Most women wouldn’t last long in my world. You should be grateful I still keep you around.”

A deep sorrow crashed over you like a frigid wave, each word striking you with the force of a winter storm. “Grateful?” you echoed, the bitterness of the word lingering on your tongue. “Grateful for what? To be treated as a mere shadow in your life?”

He shrugged, taking another languid sip from his glass, the ruby liquid reflecting the dim light. “This is my reality. You’re quite lucky to be here because I permit it. Don’t forget that.”

Anger mingled with despair, a tempest swirling within you. “Lucky?” you said, your voice rising, trembling with emotion. “Lucky to be just another name in your roster? Lucky to witness you prioritize your criminal empire over our love time and again?”

His gaze met yours, hard and unyielding. “This life demands sacrifice, and you are part of it only because I allow it.”

The truth of his words crashed over you like an avalanche, and you turned away, the sting of tears threatening to betray you. “What do you want from me, Haru?” you whispered, your voice breaking. “Is this all I am to you?”

For a fleeting moment, his facade cracked, a flicker of something—regret, perhaps—crossing his features. But it vanished as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a cold resolve. “You know what I want. You should know by now.”

In that moment, an ember of defiance ignited within you. “I want more, Haru. I want to be loved—not as a trophy or a fleeting distraction, but as someone who matters.” With those words, you stepped toward the door, the chill of the night beckoning you with an alluring promise of freedom.

But as you reached for the handle, a sharp click echoed through the room, freezing your figure in place. Haruchiyo had drawn his gun, the barrel glinting ominously in the dim light. “You’re not leaving,” he declared, his voice a low growl, the threat hanging heavy in the air.

Your heart raced, the gravity of the moment sinking deep. “You would shoot me?” you asked, voice trembling yet resolute. “After everything we’ve shared?”

“Don’t test me,” he warned, his finger hovering over the trigger, his breath a mixture of anger and something unnamable.

Desperation clawed at you, and you turned to him, eyes brimming with tears that shimmered like fragile glass. “You think you can silence what we had with a single pull of the trigger? You think that love can be extinguished so easily?”

You stepped closer, your voice softening, the warmth of your words cutting through the icy tension. “Sanzu Haruchiyo, I have loved you fiercely, even when you pushed me away. I see you—truly see you, beneath the layers of this dangerous facade. I know you’re trapped in a world that demands everything from you. But you don’t have to do this. You don’t have to lose me.”

For a moment, he hesitated, the gun trembling in his grip as your words wove through the darkness, seeking the flicker of humanity buried within him.

“You’re just a distraction,” he muttered, though the conviction in his voice wavered.

“Am I?” you countered gently, stepping even closer, daring to bridge the chasm between them. “You’re a man torn between the life you’ve chosen and the love that could set you free. You don’t have to be this monster. You can choose me instead.”

Time seemed to stretch, and in that fraught silence, Haruchiyo’s resolve wavered. The gun lowered slightly, his breath hitching as he fought against the storm of emotions raging within.

“I can’t…” he whispered, as if admitting it out loud would shatter the very foundations of his existence.

You reached out, your fingers brushing against the cool metal of the weapon, and he flinched but didn’t pull away. “You can, Haru. You can choose love over fear. You can choose me.”

In that instant, the weight of his world felt lighter, as if the burden he had carried alone began to dissipate. “I don’t want to lose you,” he admitted, the vulnerability in his voice a stark contrast to the fierce man you had known.

With the gun slipping from his grip, clattering to the floor, you took a bold step forward. You cupped his face in your hands, searching his eyes for the flicker of warmth you knew still lingered there. “Then don’t. Let me in, Haru. Let’s face this together. Love is a choice, and I choose you, always.”

In that moment, something shifted in him. The icy veneer he wore melted away, revealing the man you had fallen for—the man who could love fiercely despite the darkness surrounding him. As you leaned in, your foreheads touched, a gentle promise against the chaos of their lives.

“Stay with me,” he whispered, his voice barely a breath, yet it echoed with the weight of a vow.

“I will,” you replied, your heart swelling with hope. “As long as you choose to fight for us.”

In that embrace, amidst the shadows and uncertainty, the promise of a new beginning unfurled—a love untainted by the darkness, blossoming like the first flowers of spring against the frost of winter. Together, they would carve a path illuminated by the light of their love, forging a bond that could withstand the trials ahead, hand in hand, heart to heart.

[darkmaga-returns]

Do you feel it? The world spiralling out of control—governments crumbling under their own weight, institutions losing their credibility, and trust, once the cornerstone of human connection, evaporating like dew under a scorching sun. Everywhere you look, fear is the prevailing currency. Disconnection festers, and the average person is left grasping for meaning in an unrecognizable reality.

But ask yourself: what if this chaos isn’t organic? What if the disorder you see and feel isn’t an unfortunate consequence of a complex, modern world but an orchestrated campaign—a carefully constructed web of confusion designed to serve a purpose? What if every failing institution, every systemic collapse, and every polarizing headline is part of a deliberate strategy to weaken individuals, destabilize nations, and consolidate power in the hands of an un-elected elite?

The idea may seem too dark to entertain, too unnerving to accept. After all, we are told to believe that we are simply witnessing the struggles of a world grappling with growth, technology, and globalization. But look closer. This chaos doesn’t just erode trust—it creates dependence. It doesn’t just destabilize societies—it shifts control to hidden hands. This isn’t a failure; it’s a framework. And if it continues unchecked, the endgame will redefine freedom, autonomy, and the very meaning of humanity itself.

Now, the question isn’t, Is chaos engineered? Instead, it’s: How much longer will you accept the illusion before you act?

[natasaa13]

"You’re trouble" ft. Choso Kamo

Part 4

18+ minors do not interact!!!

Previous

"You’re trouble, you know that?” Choso murmured, his voice filled with a mixture of amusement and affection.

Musa laughed softly, her hands still resting on his chest. “You’re not exactly innocent yourself.”

“Fair enough,” he said, his smirk widening.

The air had taken on the distinct crispness of late October, carrying the faint smell of fallen leaves and wood smoke. The park, one of Musa and Choso’s usual meeting spots, was alive with the vibrant hues of autumn—fiery reds, burnt oranges, and golden yellows. They walked side by side, their footsteps crunching against the leaf-strewn path, the faint sound of distant laughter from children playing nearby filling the air.

It had been a month now since Musa and Choso’s relationship began, their moments together tucked into the cracks of their carefully constructed lives. Whenever Suguru was with Shoko, Musa would slip out with the excuse of catching up on schoolwork at the library. Other times, Shoko would cover for her, giving her the freedom to meet Choso at random cafés or quiet corners of the city where no one would think to look.

She had learned a lot about Choso during their secret meetups. He wasn’t just the quiet and mysterious guy Suguru called a friend—he was far more complex. Through their conversations, she discovered he had two brothers: Yuuji and Sukuna.

Choso lived with Sukuna, though he admitted his older brother was rarely home. Sukuna split his time between school and boxing, leaving the apartment eerily quiet most days. Yuuji, on the other hand, lived with his friends Nobara and Megumi but visited Choso whenever he could. The way Choso spoke about his brothers made Musa’s heart soften—there was an unspoken protectiveness in his tone, even when he joked about Sukuna’s endless energy or Yuuji’s goofy antics.

And then, there were the little details she hadn’t expected to learn, like the fact that Choso had a tongue piercing. The first time she noticed it, a brief flicker of silver as he spoke, she’d been caught completely off guard. How much more attractive could one man get? It was almost unfair.

“Hey,” Choso said, breaking the silence. He glanced at Musa, his dark eyes warm against the cool backdrop of the season. “You’ve been quiet. Everything okay?”

Musa nodded, pulling her cardigan tighter around her body. “Yeah, just... thinking about how fast this month has gone by.”

Choso’s lips curved into a small smile. “Good fast or bad fast?”

“Good fast,” Musa replied, her voice soft. She turned her head to look at him, the faintest smile tugging at her lips. “Definitely good fast.”

Choso chuckled, his breath visible in the cool air. “I’ll take it.”

They walked a little further, the world around them peaceful in its autumn stillness. Choso broke the quiet again. “So… Halloween’s coming up. Big plans?”

Musa shrugged. “Not really. Suguru and Shoko might do something, but I haven’t heard anything solid yet. Why?”

“Satoru’s throwing a party,” Choso said, kicking at a stray leaf. “You know him—loud music, questionable decisions, and probably some over-the-top costume. Should be fun.”

Musa laughed. “That sounds like Satoru.”

Choso grinned. “You should come.”

Musa blinked, her laughter fading into surprise. “Me? At one of Satoru’s parties? That’s... not exactly low-profile. Remember what happened last time?”

“Think about it,” Choso said, his tone light but persuasive. “Big crowd, plenty of distractions. Shoko can keep Suguru busy, and we can just… blend in. Get lost in the chaos for a bit.”

Musa hesitated, her gaze dropping to the ground as she considered it. “I don’t know, Choso. What if someone sees us? Or worse—what if Suguru sees us?”

“ He won't, won't worry too much okay?" his tone is soft and reassuring

“I’m serious, though,” Choso said, his voice softening. “You deserve a night to just… have fun. No sneaking around, no excuses. Just us.”

Musa looked up at him, her heart swelling at the sincerity in his gaze. “Okay,” she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Choso smiled, his expression lighting up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Musa said, returning his smile. “But if this backfires, it’s all on you.”

“Deal,” Choso said with a laugh. “Now, any ideas for costumes?”

“Something subtle,” Musa said firmly. “We’re supposed to blend in, remember?”

“Subtle,” Choso repeated, his tone teasing. “Got it.”

As they rounded a bend in the park, the distant hum of the city blended with the rustling of leaves. Musa’s thoughts were already racing ahead, the idea of sneaking off to Satoru’s party equal parts thrilling and nerve-wracking.

“Got any ideas?” Choso asked, glancing at her curiously.

She paused, tapping a finger against her chin as she thought. “How about… Pucca and Garu?”

Choso raised an eyebrow. “Pucca and Garu? Like, the cartoon characters?”

Musa grinned, her excitement bubbling over. “Yeah! It’s perfect. Pucca’s always chasing after Garu, and Garu’s… well, he’s quiet and kind of mysterious. It fits.”

Choso laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “So, you’re saying you’re Pucca?”

“Obviously,” Musa said with a mock-serious tone, crossing her arms. “And you’re Garu. It’s not even a question.”

Choso shook his head, still smiling. “Alright, Pucca. I’ll bite. What do I need for this costume?”

Musa’s eyes sparkled with excitement as she clapped her hands together. “Okay, so here’s the plan. You’ll need black pants, a black shirt, red gloves, and—oh, a red heart on your shirt.”

Choso raised an eyebrow. “A red heart? Is Garu secretly a romantic?”

“Of course,” Musa teased, grinning. “He’s just subtle about it. And your signature pigtails are already perfect. You don’t even have to try.”

Choso ran a hand through his hair, chuckling. “Guess I’m a natural ninja, huh?”

“Something like that,” Musa said with a laugh. “And for me, I’ll wear a red dress and put my hair in buns. Simple and cute.”

Choso tilted his head, his eyes softening as they lingered on her. “You’ll look perfect.”

Musa’s cheeks flushed, but she quickly waved him off. “Focus, Garu. We’re talking strategy here.”

He laughed, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. Black shirt, red heart, gloves, and my hair. Got it.”

Choso leaned closer, his smirk softening. “You really thought this through, huh?”

Musa felt her cheeks heat up, but she held his gaze. “Maybe I’ve been wanting to dress up as Pucca for a while. You’re just my perfect excuse.”

“Glad I could be of service,” Choso teased, his tone light. “Alright, Pucca and Garu it is."

------------------‐---------

Musa stepped into the house after her “study session,” the cool autumn air still clinging to her jacket. The soft hum of the TV filled the space, and she spotted Suguru lounging on the couch, his long hair tied back as he flipped through channels.

“You’re back,” he said, glancing up with a small smile. “How was the library?”

“It was good,” Musa replied, setting her bag down by the door. “Caught up on a lot.”

Suguru nodded, stretching slightly. “You hungry? I was just about to make something.”

Musa’s stomach rumbled at the suggestion, and she laughed. “Yeah, sure. I’ll help.”

The two moved to the kitchen, working side by side as they prepared dinner—a simple stir-fry with rice. It wasn’t long before they were seated at the dining table, the warm aroma of their meal filling the room.

As they ate, Musa hesitated for a moment before bringing up her idea. “So, um, I heard from Shoko that Satoru’s throwing a Halloween party.”

Suguru raised an eyebrow, his chopsticks pausing mid-air. “Yeah, I know. Not even surprised.”

“Well,” Musa continued, her voice carefully casual, “would it be okay if I tagged along? Shoko mentioned you guys are going. Well obviously since Satoru is you best friend.”

Suguru frowned slightly, his protective instincts flaring up. For a moment, he considered saying no, but then a thought stopped him: Maybe I’ve been too overbearing. Maybe that’s why she’s been acting distant.

He sighed, setting his chopsticks down. “Yeah, okay. You can come with us. Just… be careful, alright? And stick with Shoko.”

Musa’s face lit up, her excitement unmistakable. “Really? Thanks, Suguru! I promise I’ll behave.”

Musa twirled her chopsticks in her hand, the warmth of the meal and Suguru’s rare relaxed demeanor easing her nerves. She leaned back in her chair, her smile lingering. “Honestly, I’m surprised you’re letting me go. I thought you’d say no right away.”

Suguru raised an eyebrow, giving her a mock-offended look. “What, you think I’m some overbearing tyrant?”

“Well...” Musa teased, dragging the word out. “You do have your moments Suguru.”

He smirked, shaking his head. “Can you blame me? You’re my little sister. It’s literally my job to keep you out of trouble.”

“I’m three minutes younger!” Musa protested, playfully glaring at him.

“Still younger,” Suguru countered with a smug grin, taking another bite of his food.

Musa huffed, crossing her arms, but the amusement in her eyes betrayed her. “You act like I’m some reckless kid. I can handle myself, you know.”

“I’m sure you can,” Suguru said, his tone softening. “But I’ve barely seen you this past month. You’ve been running off to the library or Shoko’s all the time. It feels like you’re avoiding me.”

Musa froze for a moment, her heart skipping a beat. She quickly recovered, forcing a casual tone. “It’s just schoolwork, Suguru. Midterms are no joke.”

He nodded slowly, but his dark eyes studied her carefully, as if trying to read between the lines. “Maybe. Or maybe I’ve been so caught up with Shoko that I haven’t noticed what’s been going on with you.”

Musa’s guilt tugged at her, but she pushed it down, smiling brightly. “You don’t need to worry about me. I’m fine, really. Besides, it’s nice to see you happy with Shoko. She’s good for you.”

Suguru’s expression softened, a rare vulnerability flickering in his eyes. “Yeah, she is. She keeps me grounded.”

Musa chuckled, leaning forward. “And by ‘grounded,’ you mean she puts up with your nonsense and calls you out on it.”

“Exactly,” Suguru said with a grin, not even trying to deny it.

They both laughed, the sound filling the kitchen with an ease that hadn’t been there for a while.

“What are you planning to dress up as?”

“Pucca,” Musa declared, grinning. “It used to be our favorite cartoon, remember?”

Suguru laughed, the sound warm and nostalgic. “Yeah, I remember. You used to run around the house chasing me, yelling, ‘Garu!’”

Musa laughed along with him. “Well, I’m bringing her back for Halloween.”

“That suits you,” Suguru said with a smirk. “Shoko and I are going as a priest and a nun.”

"Seriously, a priest and a nun? That’s... a choice.”

Suguru chuckled “Shoko’s idea. She thought it’d be ironic and hilarious. Who am I to say no?”

Musa shook her head, laughing. “You two are something else. It’s so dark, but I kind of love it.”

“You should’ve seen her convincing me,” Suguru said, leaning back in his chair. “She said it’d be the talk of the party. ‘Suguru Geto, the rebellious priest.’”

Musa laughed harder, almost choking on her rice. “She’s got a point. You do have the vibe for it.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Suguru said, rolling his eyes but smiling.

After a pause, Musa tilted her head, curiosity gleaming in her eyes. “So, what’s Satoru’s costume? Do I even want to know?”

Suguru groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Honestly? I don’t know. He says it’s a surprise, which scares me more than it should. You know how he is—he’ll probably go all out just to make a scene.”

Musa grinned. “Now I’m intrigued. I mean, it’s Satoru—how bad can it be?”

Suguru gave her a deadpan look. “You remember last year’s toga party?”

Musa winced. “Oh, right. The golden laurel crown. The glitter. The... extremely short toga.”

“Exactly,” Suguru said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he showed up as, like, a vampire with a 12-foot cape or something equally ridiculous.”

They both dissolved into laughter again, the conversation flowing effortlessly. For the first time in weeks, Musa felt a sense of normalcy with her brother—a reminder of the bond they’d always shared.

As dinner wound down, Suguru glanced at her, his tone soft "You know I love you right sis?"

“I love you too Sugu,” her smile softening.

And for a moment, as they cleaned up the dishes together, everything felt almost perfect

------------------‐---------

Halloween night approached, Musa stood in front of the mirror in her room, her red dress laid out neatly on the bed. She ran her fingers through her thick black hair, sighing in frustration as she tried to gather it into buns.

“Suguru!” she called out, her voice carrying through the house.

A moment later, her brother appeared at her door, leaning against the frame with a raised eyebrow. “What’s up?”

Musa turned to him, gesturing at her hair. “I need help.”

Suguru blinked, looking mildly confused. “Help with what?”

“My hair,” Musa said, exasperated. “It’s too thick, and I can’t get the buns right. You’re the only one here, so congratulations—you’re my hairstylist tonight.”

Suguru sighed dramatically but stepped into the room. “Alright, Pucca, let’s see what we can do.”

Musa handed him a brush and some hair ties, sitting down on the stool in front of her vanity. “Half down, and the other half in buns. You think you can handle that?”

“Of course I can,” Suguru said, feigning offense. “I’ve mastered more complicated things than this.”

“Uh-huh,” Musa replied skeptically, watching him in the mirror as he picked up the brush.

Suguru stared at her hair for a moment, muttering under his breath, “You have way too much of this stuff,” before starting to brush it out.

“Hey!” Musa protested, laughing. “It’s not my fault I was blessed with amazing hair. Anyways your acting like yours is shorter than mine”

“Sure, let’s call it a blessing, plus mine isn't as thick nor wavy” Suguru teased, sectioning her hair.

As he worked, carefully parting her hair and securing half of it down, the usual teasing fell into a comfortable silence. The sound of the brush gliding through her waves was soothing, and for a moment, it reminded them both of simpler times—times when they were kids and used to help each other out without hesitation.

“Thanks for doing this,” Musa said softly, breaking the silence.

Suguru glanced at her reflection in the mirror, his expression softening. “Of course. You’re my little sister—it’s my job.”

Musa rolled her eyes but smiled. “Three minutes younger doesn’t make me that much smaller, you know.”

“It’s enough,” he replied, smirking as he twisted the first section into a neat bun.

They fell into silence again as he moved to the other side. Once he was done, Suguru stepped back, admiring his work. “There. Not bad, huh?”

Musa turned her head slightly, her eyes lighting up as she admired the hairstyle in the mirror. The buns were perfectly even, and the loose waves framed her face beautifully. “Wow, Suguru, you’re actually really good at this.”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” he said with a smug grin, crossing his arms.

Musa stood and gave him a quick hug. “Seriously, thank you. I owe you one.”

“You owe me about ten,” Suguru quipped, ruffling her hair slightly just to mess with her.

Musa swatted his hand away, laughing. “You’re the worst. Now I have to fix that!”

“Better hurry up,” Suguru said, heading for the door. “Shoko’s already texting me, saying she’s ready to go.”

“Alright, alright!” Musa called after him, shaking her head as she adjusted her hair.

For a moment, Musa stood there, the warmth of their shared moment lingering. Despite everything, Suguru was still the brother she’d always looked up to.

She quickly finished adjusting her hair, smoothing out any stray strands. As she turned back to her bed, she picked up her long-sleeve red dress, slipping it on carefully. The fabric hugged her chest and waist snugly before flowing out softly, the hem stopping at mid-thigh. She added knee-high black socks and wedge boots, completing the look with a satisfied glance in the mirror.

The outfit perfectly captured Pucca’s playful yet bold style, and Musa couldn’t help but smile.

Suguru’s voice echoed from the hallway. “Musa! If you don’t hurry up, we’re leaving without you!”

Rolling her eyes, Musa grabbed her phone and stepped out of her room. In the hallway, Suguru and Shoko were waiting. Suguru, dressed as a priest, looked his usual composed self despite the irony of his costume, while Shoko, dressed as a sexy nun, was grinning mischievously.

“Hury, we're already late,” Suguru said, crossing his arms.

Musa struck a playful pose. “Worth it, though. I look amazing.”

Shoko nodded in approval. “You do. Pucca never looked so good.”

“Thanks,” Musa said with a grin. “And you two look... disturbingly good. Very morbid. I love it.”

Suguru smirked, adjusting his collar. “We’re stealing the show tonight. No contest.”

“You might have some competition,” Shoko teased, nudging him. “I hear Satoru’s costume is going to be... something.”

Suguru groaned. “Don’t remind me. I’m mentally preparing for whatever nonsense he’s planned.”

The three of them stepped outside, the cool autumn air greeting them as leaves crunched beneath their feet. The faint smell of woodsmoke lingered in the air, adding to the Halloween ambiance.

As they walked toward Suguru’s car, Musa couldn’t help but feel a mix of excitement and nerves. The night promised to be unforgettable—and full of risks.

“Let’s get this over with,” Suguru said, unlocking the car. “The sooner we deal with Satoru’s antics, the sooner we can all just enjoy the night.”

--------------------------------------------

The drive to Satoru’s house was lively, the car filled with the hum of conversation. Shoko sat in the passenger seat, fiddling with her phone, while Musa leaned back in the rear seat, gazing out at the glowing orange streetlights lining the road. The autumn evening was crisp, the occasional breeze stirring the fallen leaves.

Suguru, ever the careful driver, had one hand on the wheel and the other resting casually on the gear shift. “Let’s get one thing straight,” he said, glancing at Shoko. “If Satoru starts anything tonight, you’re on damage control.”

Shoko smirked, her eyes glinting with amusement. “What makes you think I can control him?”

“You’re the only one who even tries,” Suguru retorted, rolling his eyes.

Musa chuckled from the back seat. “Honestly, I think we should just let him run wild. It is Halloween, after all.”

Suguru groaned. “Don’t encourage him, Musa. The last time we ‘let him run wild,’ we ended up explaining to campus security why there were goats in the library.”

Shoko burst into laughter. “That was a good one. Admit it, though—you had fun.”

“I had a headache,” Suguru corrected, though his lips twitched into a small smile.

Musa grinned, enjoying the banter. Despite her nerves about sneaking around with Choso, being with Suguru and Shoko always felt like home.

As they approached Satoru’s house, the faint thump of music became audible even through the closed windows. The sprawling property was lit up with strings of orange and purple lights, fake spider webs covering the hedges, and carved pumpkins lining the walkway.

Suguru parked the car, and the three of them stepped out into the cool night air. Musa adjusted her dress, smoothing the fabric, while Shoko tucked a stray lock of hair back under her nun’s headpiece.

“Looks like we’re early,” Suguru said, scanning the driveway.

“Early?” Musa asked, raising an eyebrow. “There’s already a crowd inside.”

“That’s not a crowd,” Suguru replied dryly. “That’s the warm-up group.”

Shoko looped her arm through his. “Come on, Priest Geto. Let’s see what chaos awaits.”

As they walked toward the house, Musa hung back slightly, her heart pounding in anticipation. She knew Choso would be here—he’d promised. They’d already coordinated how to find each other without drawing Suguru’s attention.

They stepped into the house, greeted by the booming bass of the music and the chatter of partygoers. The air was warm and filled with the smell of cider and faint hints of sugary treats. Satoru, dressed in an over-the-top vampire costume complete with a dramatic cape and fake fangs, immediately appeared at the door.

“Welcome, welcome!” he exclaimed, throwing his arms wide. “My favorite trio has arrived!”

Suguru sighed. “Do you have to announce us like that?”

“Absolutely,” Satoru replied with a grin, his fangs gleaming. His eyes landed on Musa, and he raised an eyebrow. “Well, look at you. Pucca never looked so terrifyingly adorable.”

“Thanks, Dracula,” Musa quipped, her confidence returning.

Satoru laughed, turning his attention to Shoko. “And my favorite nun! Forgive me, Sister Shoko, for I have sinned.”

Shoko smirked. “Don’t worry. Your penance will be delivered later.”

As they moved further into the house, the energy of the party surrounded them. Suguru immediately gravitated toward the quieter corner where some of their mutual friends were lounging, while Shoko slipped away to grab drinks.

Musa scanned the room, her eyes searching for a familiar figure. Her heart skipped a beat when she spotted Choso leaning casually against the far wall, his Garu costume unmistakable with the red gloves, heart-emblazoned black shirt, and his signature pigtails.

Their eyes met briefly, and he gave her a small, knowing smile. Musa felt her cheeks heat up, but she quickly schooled her expression, focusing on maintaining her cover.

They found themselves gravitating toward one of the main living areas, where couches and beanbags were scattered around a large television. People were mingling, drinks in hand, and the buzz of conversation filled the space.

Suguru leaned against the armrest of a couch, his casual stance at odds with his priestly costume. Shoko handed him a drink—a dark, bubbling concoction Satoru had labeled “witch’s brew.” Musa declined when Shoko offered her one, opting to stay sharp and keep an eye on Suguru’s movements.

“Is it just me, or has Satoru outdone himself with the decorations this year?” Shoko asked, gesturing to the fake cobwebs and glow-in-the-dark skeletons that adorned the room.

Suguru snorted. “That’s what happens when he discovers Pinterest. He’s been sending me mood boards for weeks.”

Musa laughed, imagining her brother enduring Satoru’s hyper-enthusiasm. “I mean, it does look good. But did we really need the fog machine in the kitchen?”

“The better question,” Shoko interjected, “is whether we needed two fog machines in the kitchen.”

They all laughed, their voices blending with the surrounding chatter. For a moment, Musa felt a pang of guilt. Here she was, sneaking around behind her brother’s back, and yet these moments of normalcy with him and Shoko felt so comforting.

“You’ve been quiet tonight,” Suguru said, turning to Musa. “What’s on your mind?”

Musa blinked, caught off guard. “Oh, nothing. Just soaking it all in.”

He narrowed his eyes slightly but didn’t press. Instead, he took a sip of his drink and leaned back. “You know, it’s nice having you out like this. Feels like old times.”

Musa smiled softly. “Yeah, it does. I’ve missed it.”

Shoko tilted her head, watching them both. “We should do it more often. Minus the fog machines.”

“Agreed,” Suguru said with a chuckle. “Though I doubt Satoru would tone it down to something simple”

As if on cue, Satoru appeared, his dramatic vampire cape billowing behind him. “Are we talking about me?” he asked with a grin, sliding into the empty seat beside Shoko.

“Unfortunately,” Suguru deadpanned.

“Good,” Satoru said, ignoring the sarcasm. He looked at Musa. “You’ve been mingling, right? It’s not a party unless everyone knows you’re here.”

Musa raised an eyebrow. “I think your party is doing just fine without me making rounds.”

“Nonsense,” Satoru replied. “You’re the Geto Pucca. You’re obligated to make an impression.”

“She’s doing just fine blending in,” Suguru interjected. “Don’t make it weird.”

Satoru threw his hands up in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. But if you change your mind, the karaoke machine is in the den. You’re all welcome to serenade us later.”

“Please tell me it’s broken,” Shoko muttered, earning a laugh from Musa.

“It’s not!” Satoru declared, already heading toward his next victim.

Suguru shook his head, sipping his drink. “This party is going to get out of control.”

“Isn’t that the point?” Shoko teased.

Musa watched them, a sense of warmth settling in her chest. Even with her secret relationship lingering in the background, moments like this reminded her why she cared so much about keeping things peaceful. Suguru deserved his good mood, and Shoko was always the glue that kept their group lighthearted.

Still, her gaze drifted back to the far wall where Choso lingered. He was talking to someone now, but his eyes flicked toward her for the briefest moment. Her heart quickened.

She tore her eyes away, forcing herself to stay engaged in her brother’s conversation. After all, the night had only just begun.

Musa caught Shoko’s eye, it was a brief glance, but the small, knowing nod Shoko gave her was all she needed. Taking a steadying breath, Musa excused herself from the group and slipped through the crowd, weaving between costumed partygoers until she reached the quieter, less crowded side of the house.

Choso was already there, leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed. When he saw her approaching, a small smirk tugged at his lips.

“Was starting to think you wouldn’t show,” he teased, his voice low and smooth.

Musa rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t hide the grin spreading across her face. “Suguru was hovering. I had to wait for the right moment.”

“And let me guess,” Choso said, pushing off the wall to stand upright, “Shoko was the distraction?”

“She’s the best wingman I could ask for,” Musa replied, stepping closer. “You should really thank her.”

“Maybe I will,” Choso said, his smirk softening into something more sincere. His eyes flicked over her, taking in her Pucca-inspired dress. “You look amazing, by the way.”

Musa’s cheeks flushed. “You’ve already said that.”

“And I’ll keep saying it,” he shot back, the teasing edge returning to his voice.

Musa shook her head, laughing softly. “You’re impossible.”

“Impossible, huh?” Choso stepped closer, his tone playful. “Well, in that case, you’ll just have to dance with me to make up for it.”

She raised an eyebrow, pretending to consider. “Hmm, I don’t know. You don’t strike me as the dancing type.”

“Guess you’ll have to find out,” he said, offering his hand.

Musa hesitated for only a moment before slipping her hand into his. Choso led her back toward the main room, where the music was louder and the energy palpable. The dance floor was packed, but he found a spot in the middle of the crowd where they could blend in.

The music shifted to a bass-heavy beat, and Choso turned to face her, his hands settling naturally on her waist. “Ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” she replied, placing her hands on his shoulders.

They started to move, swaying to the rhythm of the music. At first, their movements were small, hesitant even, but as the song picked up, so did their confidence. Choso’s hands gripped her waist a little tighter, guiding her closer until there was barely any space between them.

Musa felt her heartbeat quicken—not from the music, but from the way Choso was looking at her. His dark eyes seemed to burn with an intensity that made her stomach flutter. She felt like everyone else in the room had disappeared, leaving just the two of them in their own little world.

“You’re not bad at this,” she said, her voice light despite the nervous flutter in her chest.

Choso chuckled, leaning in so she could hear him over the music. “Neither are you.”

Their movements became more in sync, a natural rhythm forming between them. Musa’s hands slid from his shoulders to his chest, her fingers brushing against the red heart on his shirt. Choso responded by pulling her even closer, his breath warm against her ear as he murmured, “You’re full of surprises tonight.”

Musa smiled, tilting her head up to meet his gaze. “So are you.”

The next song was slower, its sultry rhythm setting a different mood. Musa’s heart pounded as Choso’s hands moved to the small of her back, his touch firm but gentle. She let herself relax into him, her cheek brushing against his shoulder as they swayed to the beat.

For a moment, it was just them—the music, the closeness, the unspoken understanding passing between them.

When the song ended, Choso leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear. “Let’s get out of here.”

She nodded, her pulse quickening as he took her hand once more. Instead of leaving the house, Choso led her through the crowd and up the stairs to the quieter upper floor. The hum of the party below faded as they stepped into the dimly lit hallway, the noise muffled by the thick walls.

--------------------------------------------

Choso leaned against the wall, his smirk returning as he watched her. “You’re really good at sneaking away.”

“Years of practice ” Musa winked, leaning against the opposite wall.

“Lucky for me,” Choso said, stepping closer. His voice dropped lower, softer. “So, what now?”

Musa’s breath hitched as he closed the distance between them, one hand coming to rest against the wall beside her. His other hand brushed a stray strand of hair from her face, his touch lingering against her cheek.

“This,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Choso’s lips curved into a soft smile before he leaned in, capturing her lips in a kiss that was both gentle and electrifying. His hand slid to the back of her neck, pulling her closer as the kiss deepened.

Musa’s fingers tangled in the fabric of his shirt, her knees weak as the world around them seemed to disappear. She could feel the faint chill of his tongue piercing, adding an intoxicating edge to the softness of his lips.

When they finally broke apart, their foreheads rested together, both of them breathing heavily.

“You’re trouble, you know that?” Choso murmured, his voice filled with a mixture of amusement and affection.

Musa laughed softly, her hands still resting on his chest. “You’re not exactly innocent yourself.”

“Fair enough,” he said, his smirk widening.

The kiss between Musa and Choso lingered, the moment between them so sweet, so private, that they both almost forgot where they were. But just as their lips were about to meet again, they heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps echoing down the hallway.

Before either of them could react, the door at the far end of the hall creaked open, and there, standing in the doorway, was Satoru Gojo—his tall figure framed by the dim light of the hallway. His vampire costume, complete with a dark cloak and sharp fangs, made him look both intimidating and oddly regal.

Musa’s heart dropped into her stomach. “Satoru!” she gasped, pulling away from Choso in a panic.

Choso, equally shocked, quickly straightened, glancing nervously from Musa to Satoru, who stood there with his usual smirk, eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Guess I’m not the only one sneaking away from the party,” Satoru said, his voice dripping with amusement.

Musa immediately stepped in front of Choso, trying to block Satoru’s view, her face burning with embarrassment. “Satoru, please… Don’t tell Suguru,” she pleaded, her voice trembling with urgency.

Satoru raised an eyebrow, studying her with an expression that suggested he was weighing his options. “Musa,” he said, his tone turning serious, “you’re taking a pretty big risk sneaking off like this. You know Suguru could show up any time, right?” His gaze flickered to Choso, and a knowing smile curled on his lips. “And you two, well…” He shook his head, a slight chuckle escaping his throat. “You’re lucky I’m feeling generous tonight.”

Musa’s face was flushed with anxiety, her mind racing as she tried to figure out how to handle this. She knew that Satoru wasn’t the type to keep secrets for long, but something in his expression suggested he was giving her a chance.

“Please,” Musa said again, her voice softer now, pleading. “I can’t have Suguru finding out like this. I’ll tell him soon, I promise. Just don’t tell him yet.”

Satoru stared at her for a long moment, his lips still twitching with a mischievous grin. “I can’t exactly lie to my best friend,” he said, his tone softening slightly. “But... I guess I’ll keep my mouth shut for now.”

Musa exhaled in relief, her shoulders relaxing for the first time since Satoru appeared.

Satoru continued, his voice shifting to something more playful. “But you should tell him sooner rather than later, Musa. The longer you keep this a secret, the more awkward it’s gonna get. Trust me.” He gave her a teasing smile. “And don’t make me come up here again, okay? You’re making this whole thing way too fun.”

Musa nodded quickly, her face still flushed but thankful for his understanding. “Thank you, Satoru. I’ll tell him soon.”

Satoru's expression softened just a bit. “Now go back to Shoko and Suguru before they start wondering where you went. I’ll stay here and have a little chat with Choso.”

Musa’s eyes widened, but she nodded again, stepping toward the stairs. “Thanks again,” she muttered, her heart still racing as she made her way back to the party.

Once she was out of sight, Satoru’s smile faded, and he turned his full attention to Choso, who was still standing against the wall, arms crossed, clearly trying to figure out how to handle the situation.

“You and I need to talk,” Satoru said, his voice becoming more serious, his eyes narrowing slightly as he approached Choso. Choso’s eyes flicked to the door where Musa had just disappeared, then back to Satoru. “You’ve always got something to say,” he muttered, clearly uncomfortable under Satoru’s gaze.

“You're playing a dangerous game” Satoru began, his voice low but firm, “She’s Suguru’s sister, if he finds out you're messing with her ..actually he will find out then you'll be dead”

Choso remained silent, his jaw tense as he weighed Satoru’s words. Satoru wasn’t wrong—Suguru was a force to be reckoned with, and if he found out about this... well, it wouldn’t end well for anyone involved.

“I know,” Choso said quietly, running a hand through his hair. “But I’m not trying to make trouble. I really like her.”

Satoru’s eyes softened for a moment, though his smirk never fully left his face. “I can see that but you’ve got to think about the consequences, not just the fun.”

Choso nodded, though he still looked a little conflicted. “I’m not trying to hurt her. I just—it’s different this time, she's different. I don’t want to play with her, it's something I haven’t felt before" He paused, looking down for a moment.

Satoru raised an eyebrow, sensing the weight of Choso’s words. “You guys going to have to tell him soon. Suguru may be angry with you at first but he'll ease up eventually. ”

Choso gave a short, sharp nod. “I know.”

Satoru took a step back, his hands back in his pockets as he flashed a quick grin. “Well, I guess I’ll leave you to figure that out. Just... don’t cause too much chaos, alright?”

Choso watched as Satoru turned and made his way down the hall, back toward the party. He leaned against the wall, running a hand through his hair as he mulled over Satoru’s words.

Suguru will find out soon enough, he thought, the weight of the decision pressing on him. But for now, all he could think about was the way Musa looked at him when she asked him not to tell.

--------------------------------------------

Musa made her way back down to the party, feeling a little light-headed from the conversation with Satoru. As she walked toward the living room, she spotted Suguru and Shoko sitting on the couch, sipping on their drinks and laughing. Their conversation was lively, but when they saw her, their expressions softened.

"Hey, Musa," Shoko called out, a teasing smile on her lips. "You find your way to the bathroom okay?" she asked, her voice laced with a hint of amusement.

Musa smiled awkwardly, trying to shake off the tension from the hallway. "Yeah, all good. Just... needed a bit of air," she said, her voice sounding a little too forced.

Suguru noticed her discomfort and raised an eyebrow, though he didn't press the matter. "Well, you're back just in time," he said, holding up a beer. "We were about to play a round of beer pong. You want in?"

"Yeah, come join us," Shoko added, her grin widening. "It’s going to be girls versus boys, obviously."

Musa’s stomach twisted for a second as she remembered the recent encounter with Satoru.

Before she could answer, a familiar voice interrupted. "Don’t leave me out!" Satoru said, strolling over with his signature playful smirk.

Musa’s heart skipped a beat. She had just spent the last few minutes with him, awkwardly navigating their brief conversation. Now, here he was, joining the game like it was no big deal. She tried to hide her discomfort, but the way Satoru’s eyes briefly flicked toward her gave her away. He knew what had just happened between her and Choso, and that made everything a little more complicated.

"Great," Shoko laughed, rolling her eyes playfully. "The more, the merrier. Boys versus girls it is, then."

Musa managed a smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. "Sure, I’m in."

She sat down on one side of the table with Shoko, as Satoru and Suguru took the opposite side. The game quickly kicked off, and the atmosphere lightened as the cups were filled, the ping-pong balls bouncing from one side to the other.

Musa found herself gradually getting into the game, her earlier discomfort slipping away as she focused on the competition. Shoko was always an expert at beer pong, but Satoru and Suguru were no slouches either. There were a few good-natured jabs thrown back and forth between the two teams, with Satoru mocking her aim and Suguru pretending to be shocked every time she scored a point.

"Nice one, Musa!" Shoko cheered, laughing when Musa made a perfect shot, sending one of the balls into one of the cups.

Musa’s competitive side kicked in, and she playfully teased, "I don’t know, I think I’m carrying the team here."

Suguru smirked, leaning over to Satoru. "Don’t let them get ahead, or they’ll never let us hear the end of it."

As the game went on, Musa felt the tension between her and Satoru gradually lessen. His teasing comments weren’t about her being caught earlier, and she appreciated that. Instead, he was focused on the game, making the whole situation feel more normal again. Still, she couldn’t help but occasionally glance at Choso across the room, wondering what he was thinking and hoping their secret would remain safe, at least for tonight.

Eventually, the game ended in a close victory for the girls, with Shoko giving a dramatic cheer as they claimed their prize of a round of shots. Musa’s mood lightened as she laughed with her best friend, the unease from earlier nearly forgotten. She was starting to have fun, despite the chaos in her mind.

After the game, Satoru raised his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright, we lost fair and square. But just know, I’ll be getting you back next time, Musa."

Musa grinned, relieved that the tension between them seemed to have dissolved. "We’ll see about that," she teased back, as Shoko winked at her.

Musa felt more at ease now that the night had settled into a familiar rhythm,.

The night was winding down, and the atmosphere at the party was slowly settling into a more relaxed vibe. The sound of chatter and laughter echoed through the house, but at the beer pong table, it had become clear who the true champion was.

Shoko, ever the skilled drinker, had effortlessly outlasted Suguru in the drinking game, and now her best friend was slumped on the couch, looking a little worse for wear. Suguru’s face was flushed, and his movements were slow and sluggish. He'd been drinking a little too much, and it was starting to show.

Satoru, always the responsible one (when he wanted to be), had moved to help him. With a playful smirk, he slung Suguru’s arm over his shoulder and started guiding him toward the stairs.

"Guess I’ll be taking my best friend to my room for the night," Satoru said with a grin, glancing back at the girls. "You guys can crash here, or if you want, I can call an Uber to take you home."

Shoko, looking more than a little tipsy herself, gave Satoru a wave. "We’re good," she said, already making her way to the front door. "Call an Uber. No need to stay here, especially if Suguru’s going to be sleeping it off in your room."

Musa nodded, grateful that she wouldn't have to spend the night in the same house as her brother in his current state. She followed Shoko toward the door, her mind still slightly clouded.

Shoko stopped and turned to Musa with a sly smile. "You should call Choso," she said, her voice a little quieter now that they were alone.

Musa blinked, taken aback by the suggestion. "Are you sure?" she asked, her voice low and cautious, though a hint of excitement bubbled beneath the surface. "I don’t want to make it too obvious, you know?"

Shoko gave her a knowing look, a slight grin tugging at her lips. "Of course I’m sure. You’ve been sneaking around this whole time, and now is as good a time as any for you two to have a little more alone time. Besides, you’re not going to keep him waiting forever, right?"

Musa felt a wave of nerves and excitement wash over her. Shoko was right, of course. It had been a while since she and Choso had been able to spend any real time together, and tonight had been full of so many distractions. She took a deep breath, her heart racing a little.

"I guess you're right," Musa said, nodding with a small smile. "Okay, I’ll call him."

Shoko gave her a playful wink before continuing to walk "Good girl."

Musa pulled out her phone the call Choso letting him know they're leaving and to meet her outside.

As they stepped out of the house, she noticed Choso leaning against his car just across the street, his figure illuminated by the dim streetlight. His eyes lit up when he saw her, and he stood up straight with a casual smile, his hands in his pockets.

"Hey, there you are," Choso greeted her, his voice warm and inviting.

Musa smiled back, feeling a sense of relief wash over her at the sight of him. She was finally getting the time alone with him that she'd been craving, away from all the distractions and pressures of the night.

"Hey," she said softly, walking toward him.

Before she could say anything else, Shoko, who had been waiting by the side walk gave a playful wave to Choso. "You know, Choso," she called out, "you should take Musa home first. I’m good, the Uber’s almost here."

Choso turned to her with a raised eyebrow, offering a polite smile. "I could do that. But it’s no trouble, I can wait and—"

"No, no," Shoko interrupted with a dramatic wave of her hand, a mischievous grin on her face. "I’m fine. Go have fun, you two. I’ll be okay. The Uber will be here in a minute, and I’ll be home in no time."

Musa glanced between them, a little unsure. "Are you sure, Shoko?"

Shoko flashed her a wink and a teasing smile. "Absolutely. You two have a good time. Don’t keep him waiting, now."

Musa let out a small laugh, shaking her head. "Alright," she said, though a part of her was still a little nervous. "Thanks, Shoko."

Choso opened the passenger door. "Shall we, then?" he said in that low, teasing tone that made her heart flutter.

Musa nodded, a smile tugging at her lips as she slipped in the seat of the passenger side. "Let’s go."

Shoko gave them a final wave before climbing into the Uber that just arrived, leaving them with nothing but the cool night air and the promise of some much-needed time alone.

Once they were inside the car, Choso started the engine, the soft rumble of the car filling the space. The drive was quiet, but comfortable—neither of them feeling the need to fill the silence. Musa leaned back in her seat, her mind racing with everything that had happened tonight, from the Halloween party to the kiss they had shared earlier.

Choso glanced over at her, his expression softening. "You okay?" he asked, his voice gentle.

Musa met his gaze, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Yeah," she said, her voice quiet but sincere. "I’m good. Thanks for waiting outside for me."

Choso chuckled, a hint of mischief still in his eyes. "I wouldn’t have left without you. You know that."

Musa’s heart skipped a beat at his words. There was something about how he said it, how serious he sounded, that made her feel both a little lighter and more nervous all at once.

The drive continued with an easy, unspoken understanding between them. Musa wasn’t sure where they were headed exactly, but she was content to simply be in Choso’s presence, away from the chaos of the party and her family. Tonight was theirs, and for the first time in a while, she felt like she could breathe freely.

As the car came to a stop, parking into the driveway. Choso followed Musa to the front door, the quiet night only addig to the anticipation. Once inside, they both paused for a brief moment as the door clicked shut behind them, the stillness of the house amplifying the tension building in the air. Musa's heart was beating so loudly, she was sure Choso could hear it too.

She didn't say anything, with a glance at Choso she stepped closer, hands sliding up to his chest. Choso didn't hesitate - quickly closing the distance between the two, immediately leaned down to capture her lips. The kiss was slow at first but quickly became more urgent and hungry for desire. Musa’s hands roamed too his neck, pulling him impossibly closer as the intensity of the kiss deepened, igniting something in her that she couldn’t quite control. He licked her bottom lip, asking for entrance which was granted without hesitation. Their tongues fought for dominance and the little metal ball making Musa slowly lose her mind.

Choso’s hands moved to her waist, gripping gently but firmly as he slowly began leading her backwards. Neither of them broke the kiss, and soon, they were navigating through the dimly lit hallway toward her bedroom.

The air between them thick with tension, both of them knowing exactly where this is heading, yet neither of them in a hurry to rush it. Choso’s movements were deliberate, guiding her every step without breaking their connection, as if everything in the world outside of them had faded away. The moment their bodies brushed against the doorframe of her room, he leaned her against it briefly, his lips never leaving hers, before he gently nudged the door open with his foot.

--------------------------------------------

Once inside, Choso pulled back slightly, his eyes meeting hers with an intensity that made her stomach flutter. "You sure?" He asked, his voice low, almost a whisper.

Musa’s answer was immediate, her hands tugging at his shirt to pull him closer again "I'm sure" she breathed out.

And with that the kiss resuming, with renewed passion. Choso’s hands found the zipper on the back of her dress, slowly zipping it down and slipping it down her body ever so teasingly. He gently pushed her down on the bed, guiding her down onto the soft sheets as he hovered over her. His hands were carefully caressing her body, never rushing as if savoring every second of this moment with her.

Musa’s heart raced, hands moving to tangled in his hair. Every touch sending jolt of electricity through her, she couldn’t think of anything else but him.

She couldn’t help the small noises that left her lips, the moment getting more intense by the second. Her hand trembling slightly but filled with determination, found the hem of Choso’s shirt. She hesitated for only a moment before tugging gently, signaling for him to take it off. Choso noticed her movement and pulled back from their heated kiss, dark eyes locking with hers. Without a word, he grabbed the bottom of his shirt and pulled it over his head with one swift motion, tossing it to the side.

Her breath hitched as her eyes traveled over his toned chest and arms, the piercing on his tongue now matched by the faint glint of a small barbell on his nipples. Choso’s lips curved into a small, almost shy smile as he caught her staring. But when his gace dropped back to her, his breath catching in his throat.

Musa layed before him, her long black hair fanned out over the pillows, her baby blue eyes filled with a mixture of nervousness and desire. She was clad in delicate lingerie that hugged her figure perfectly, her skin glowing in the soft light of her room. The black lace contracted her beautifully against her complexion, and the knee high socks added a touch of innocence that only made her look even more enchanting.

Choso exhaled slowly, his voice low and filled with awe. "You’re perfect" his tone so sincere that it made Musa's cheeks flush even deeper.

Her gaze flickered away, "Don’t say thay" she mumbled, though the small smile tugging at her lips betrayed how much his words affected her.

Choso leaned down, cupping her cheek with one hand, his thumb brushing over her heated skin. " I mean it, you are perfect Musa, every single part of you"

Before she could respond, his lips where on her jaw, placing soft, lingering kisses along the curve. His free hand rested slightly on her waist, grounding her as he continued his tender exploration.

Musa let out a soft gasp when his lips trailed lower brushing against the sensitive skin of her neck. Choso paused for a moment, his warm breath fanning over her collarbone. He placed gentle kisses over it, careful not to leave any marks.

She couldn’t control the little moans escaping her lips, each sound making it harder for Choso to control himself.

He was treating her as if she were the most delicate thing he'd ever held, and yet there was an unspoken promise in the way his lips lingered against her skin - a promise that he wanted to worship her, to show her how much she ment to him.

Choso pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against hers as he looked into her eyes " Tell me if I'm going too fast, okay?" He whispered, voice filled with concern and affection.

Her hands finding his, fingers interlocking together. "Okay" her voice was soft, filled with trust and she leaned up to kiss him again, pulling him back into the moment.

Choso’s lips never left hers as his hands slid down her back, his fingers deftly finding the claps of her bra. With a soft flick , he unhooked it, the tension of the fabric realesing instantly. Musa froze for a moment, her breathing uneven, "Relax Princess" he softly whispered.

He pulled back slightly, his gaze locking with hers, giving her a chance to stop him if she wanted. When Musa didn't protest, he carefully slipped the straps of her bra off her shoulders, discarding the fabric to the side. His eyes roamed her body with a look of awe, his hands moving to gently cup her breasts.

"You’re beautiful," he murmured, his voice husky with admiration. His thumbs brushed over her sensitive peaks, and Musa gasped softly at the sensation.

He leaned down, his warm lips leaving soft kissed along her jaw, trailing lower until his pierced tounge flicked over her nipple. The cool touch of the metal sent a jolt through her, and she arched into him, one hand quickly flying to his hair and the other gripping the sheets below her.

"Choso..." she whispered, her voice barely audible, her body reacting to every flick and swirl of his tounge.

He took his time worshipping her with his hands and mouth, one tongue-twisting sensation after another building the heat between them that she could no longer ignore. Her thighs pressed together instinctively and she could feel the growing ache pooling low in her stomach.

Choso trailed his lips lower, kissing down her sternum and across her stomach, his movements slow. When he reached the waistband of her panties, he paused glancing up at her for permission. Musa nodded, her cheeks flushed and Choso smirked softly below pressing a gentle kiss just above her belly button.

Hooking his fingers into the side of her panties, he began to slowly, ever so teasingly pull them down. He loved how she squirmed under his touch, his eyes fixed on her face, to capture every reaction. Once the fabric slid down her legs, joining the pile of clothes on the side, Choso slightly leaned back to admire the view.

"You're perfect" he said softly

Before Musa couldd respond, Choso grabbed her legs, gently placing them on each side of his shoulders. He pressed a kiss inside her thigh, then another and another, inching closer to her core. Musa’s breath hitched as he finally dipped his head, lips brushing over her folds in the lightest touches.

Small noises of pleasure escaped her lips, and Choso groaned quietly against her skin, the sound vibrating through her.

When his tongue made contact, she gasped, hand flying to his hair. He started slow, his pierced tongue exploring her carefully.

"Choso, you're teasing..." she moaned, her voice high and breathless, hip bucking involuntarily.

"Patience princess, I want to enjoy every second"

His hands gripped her thighs firmly, holding her in place as his tongue delved deeper, alternating between long, languidly strokes and and precise flicks over her most sensitive spot.

Her body grew hotter with every movement of his tongue, her moans getting louder. She couldn’t think nor speak, only feel as Choso worked her over with a skill that left her trembling beneath him.

"God, you taste so good" he murmured against her, voice muffled.

She gripped the sheets tightly, her knuckle turning white while her other hand slightly tugging at his hair.

He shifted, angling his tongue just right while one of his hand slipped between her legs, teasing her entrance with a single finger. The combination of sensations was overwhelming and Musa’s back arched into his touch, her cries becoming more frantic.

Hearing her like this only encouraged him more.

"You're close aren't you?" He smirked

" Let go for me Musa, I want to feel you come on my tongue."

His voice was enough to send her over the edge, body tensing as the pleasure washed over her. Choso didn't let up, his tongue continuing it's ministrations to draw out every last tremor of pleasure until she was left panting and trembling beneath him.

When she finally relaxed, he pressed gentle kisses along her thighs before lifting his head, his lips glistening as he looked up at her. Musa couldn’t form words ,her body still tingling from the aftershock. She watched with hooded eyes as Choso stood and began to undress. Her eyes flowing his movements, glued to his body, down to his happy trail ever so slowly. When he slid his pants and boxers off, leaving him bare Musa’s eyes widened. God he's huge.

He leaned over her again, hand brushing her cheeks as his gaze locked with hers, "Are you sure?" he asked softly.

" I trust you"

"It might hurt a little at first, but if you want to stop at any point, just tell me."

Musa nodded and smiled nervously. His eyes flicked down to her knee high sock, a smirk tugging at his lips.

" I'm leaving these on, way too sexy to take it off of you."

Musa let out a nervous laugh, her face heating up even more.

Choso kissed her softly, his body settling between her legs as he slowly positioned himself. He interlocked his fingers with hers by her hand, as she lightly squizzed it signaling she's ready.

His other hand gripping her waist as he slowly inched himself inside of her warmth, allowing her to adjust to the unfamiliar sensation.

Musa gasped, her body tensing as she felt him strech her. Choso immediately paused, forehead resting against hers.

"You're doing so well," he whispered softly " Just breathe for me princess"

Her breathing slowed, giving a small nod, encouraging him to continue. Choso pushed further, bottoming her, he stilled, his own breath ragged as he fought to control himself.

"You okay?" He asked softly, his dark eyes searching hers for any sign of discomfort.

Musa opened her hooded eyes, small smile playing on her lips despite the painful strech.

"I'm okay"

Choso kissed her forehead tenderly as he pulled back just enough to set a slow rhythm. His thrusts were deep and measured, his focus entirely on her and how she responded. He wanted to know every inch of her.

Musa couldn’t control the soft moans that left her lips as the initial discomfort faded, replaced by a building pressure that had her gripping Choso’s shoulders.

"Cho..." his name leaving her lips like prayers.

"God, I love it when you call me that"

His pace getting faster, sinking deeper inside of her, drawing moans after moans out of her and each getting louder.

The room filled with the sound of their bodies moving together, their shared breath fogging the room.

Her soft cries of pleasure, the way her body arched to meet his every move to meet his thrusts almost drove him to edge, but he held back to savor this moment with her.

"Cho it feels...ah...s-so good,"

He groaned low, lips vibrating against her neck as he pressed kisses against it. Her legs wrapping around his waist to pull him closer, bodies melting into each other as she was getting close. He noticed how her body's reacting, clenching down onto him, her moans getting louder, he new she was close and so was he.

"Let go princess, I got you"

His words encouraged her as she reached her climax, she cried out his name. Her body trembled, her walls tightening around him making him cum in an instant. He held her close, his arms wrapping around her as he rode out his high, breath ragged and uneven. The two of them layed intertwined, their body still trembling from the aftershock. "You’re amazing" pressed a gentle kiss on her cheeks.

Choso gently brushed a strand of Musa’s hair out of her flushed face, his thumb softly tracing her cheek. “Stay here,” he sat up and grabbed his discarded boxers.

Musa watched him with a tired but content smile, her heart fluttering at how thoughtful he was. He slipped on his boxer and disappeared into the bathroom, returning moments later with a warm, damp cloth.

“This might be a little cold,” he said softly, sitting beside her and carefully wiping her down, his movements tender and deliberate. Musa’s cheeks flushed, but she didn’t shy away, appreciating his gentleness.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice soft and a little shy.

Choso offered her a small smile. “You don’t have to thank me,” he replied, his tone warm. After ensuring she was comfortable, he discarded the cloth and helped her pull on a loose shirt she’d grabbed from the edge of her bed.

Once she was settled, Choso slid under the covers beside her, pulling her close. Musa nestled against his chest, her head resting over his heart as she listened to its steady rhythm. His arms wrapped securely around her, one hand gently running up and down her back in soothing strokes.

“Comfortable?” he asked, his voice a quiet rumble in the dimly lit room.

“Very,” Musa mumbled sleepily, her fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on his chest. “You’re really warm.”

Choso chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Good,” he murmured. “You deserve to feel safe and cared for.”

Musa tilted her head up to look at him, her baby blue eyes meeting his soft gaze. “I do with you,” she said honestly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Choso’s heart swelled at her words, and he leaned down to press a gentle kiss to her lips before pulling her even closer. “Get some sleep, Musa,” he said softly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Within minutes, Musa’s breathing evened out, and she drifted off to sleep, her body relaxed in his embrace. Choso watched her for a while, marveling at how peaceful she looked, before closing his eyes and letting himself be lulled into sleep, the warmth of her presence grounding him.

The night passed quietly, the two of them lost in their own little world, safe and content in each other’s arms.

[tokkiwrites]

ㅡㅡㅡ in which tangerine lets his heart (for the most part) dictate him around.

TW: dark!Tangerine (pls everyone this is not cute hes literally a stalker lol), fem!reader, afab reader, no use of y/n, mention of killing people and knifes, stalking, toxic relationship, use of pet names (love, bunny, sweetheart), unprotected p in v (dont look at me, wrap your weewee), dirty talk (kind of), lmk if i missed anything.

Tangerine had always been a shadow in the dimly lit world of contract killers, a name whispered in hushed tones among those who knew. His reputation was one of cold precision, a man who eliminated his targets with a ruthless efficiency that bordered on artistry. But behind the facade of the heartless assassin, there existed a secret, a gnawing obsession that threatened to consume him.

It began innocently enough, with stolen glances from the window of his spartan apartment across the street. She was just a random girl, a stranger in the vast tapestry of the city, but there was something about her that captivated him. He didn't know her name. Didn't bother to look for it, find more about herㅡㅡ he enjoyed it that way... for a bit.

she had an air of innocence that contrasted sharply with Tangerine's dark world. Maybe that's what has drawn him to her. Every evening, he would watch her from the shadows, the soft glow of her apartment window casting a warm, inviting light into his own life of iniquity. It became a routine.

APRIL 23rd. ㅡ blued my bruise.

As the weeks turned into months, Tangerine's infatuation deepened. He knew he should have focused on his missions, honed his lethal skills, and remained emotionally detached, but he couldn't help himself. He started collecting snippets of her life, learning her routines, her likes and dislikes, and even the name of her perfume that occasionally wafted through his open window. He kept a journal filled with details about her, a chilling testament to his obsession.

His thoughts became a maddening storm of contradictions. On one hand, he longed to approach her, introduce himself, and let her know how deeply he cared. On the other, he knew the darkness that coursed through his veins, the blood on his hands that would surely taint any chance at a normal life. The conflict between his life as Tangerine, the ruthless assassin, and his love for that girl across the street tore at his soul, threatening to unravel the carefully constructed façade he had built over the years.

Tangerine stood at the precipice of a choice that could define the rest of his life. He was trapped between the world of ruthless violence and the alluring promise of love and normalcy.

The girl remained the unspoken focal point of his existence, a beacon of hope in the midst of chaos. Yet, he was acutely aware that his actions had consequences, and his desire to protect her might eventually collide with the ruthless pursuit of his job.

His path was fraught with danger, as he navigated the thin line between his love for the girl and the haunting shadows of his past. Torn between his obsession and his duty as a protectorㅡㅡ as he liked to call it.

AUGUST 17th. pink me with ties.

Tangerine's obsession had become all-encompassing, driving him to meticulously study the girl's life, dissecting every relationship that entered her world. His mind, once focused on the cold precision of his assassinations, had now turned into a labyrinth of paranoia and possessiveness.

mine.

Whenever the girl expressed interest in a potential love interest, Tangerine took it as a personal affront. He couldn't bear the thought of anyone else occupying the space in her heart that he believed was rightfully his. In his mind, eliminating these perceived threats was the only way to maintain his fragile grip on her life.

mine. mine.

As he tracked these individuals, Tangerine started to eliminate them in a chillingly systematic fashion. He rationalized his actions, convincing himself that he was safeguarding the girl from anyone who might harm her or take her away from him. Tangerine saw them as competition, and he couldn't allow any potential rival to exist.

mine. mine. mine.

One by one, they disappeared, leaving behind a trail of confusion and fear. Tangerine's cold efficiency in eliminating these perceived threats left no room for error. The girl, oblivious to the sinister presence hovering around her life, began to notice the gradual erosion of her friends and potential partners.

she is mine.

Each disappearance, each life he extinguished, left a mark on his soul, tarnishing the love he believed he felt for the girl. It was more than thatㅡㅡ he thinks. He knows... He knows she feels it, too.

What had once been a misguided attempt at protecting her had now transformed into a cycle of violence and despair. He found himself plagued by obsession.

In the midst of the chaos and darkness that his obsession had wrought, Tangerine found himself grappling with the profound truth that this was more than just love—it was an all-consuming affliction that had poisoned their lives. He realized that she, too, felt the suffocating presence of his fixation, though she remained unaware of its source.

it's okay, I'm here, love. I'm here for you. You feel it, can't you?

NOVEMBER 1st. black my bones.

there she is. she's so beautiful.

he spotted her with... a man. when will she learn?

A surge of jealousy and anger coursed through him, intensifying the relentless grip of his obsession. His heart pounded, and a sinister determination took hold. He couldn't bear the thought of another man so close to her. She was his. she knew that, didn't she?

He tracked the man, waiting for an opportunity to strike.

"oi, there. mind tellin' me the time?"

"sure, dude. it's uh-- oh! 8pm."

Tangerine steps closer.

"sorry, mate. didn't hear ya, mind tellin me again?"

"yeah, 8pm, manㅡ" shunk.

then a scream. agony, a warm feeling, and for a moment, silence. a loud thud echoed through the dark alleyway as the man's body fell to the ground. he was choking on his own blood, the blade still lodged in his neck.

"i hate doin this mate, but you guysㅡ you guys never learn, getting so close to her... too close."

with a swift motion, he takes the knife out, wiping it lazily onto the brick wall before he throws it in the nearby sewer opening.

" 's fine, though. as long as she's alright, yeah?"

he twists a smile from his lips, strolling onto the main street.

his.

DECEMBER 15th. purple my eyes.

This was finally the day.

He chose a moment when she was alone in a park, her vulnerability a stark contrast to the man she didn't know she had been living under the watchful eye of. As he approached, his cold demeanor had softened somewhat, but a lingering sense of menace clung to him.

"hello, love." Tangerine said, his voice tinged with an eerie charm, a stark contrast to the chilling reality of his actions. "couldn't help but notice you from where i was sittin'. sorry if it makes you uncomfortable, wanted to say how gorgeous you look."

"oh, hi." she replied, bubbly. "thank you. means a lot when I'm quite literally dressed as a trash bag." then she laughed.

her laugh. if he could inject it through his veins, he would.

"name's Tangerine. Yours?"

MARCH 3rd. red my mind

She couldn't help but fall deeper for him. i mean, how could she not? he knew everything she liked, hated. he knew when to leave her alone, when to keep her closeㅡ he was perfect.

the fact he was the most beautiful man she'd ever seen was a plus. always dressed to impress, curly hair stiled back, always smelled like she could devour him. and god, that mustache. it was all she ever wanted... and he knew it.

"tan?" she'd been thinking about it. they'd known each other ㅡ well, she knew him for about 3 months, but he came when she needed someone the most. she almost felt dependent on him, like he saved her from something she didn't even know was coming.

"yeah, love?"

"i think...I'm ready toㅡ you know."

she wasn't a virgin. sure as hell felt like one though. she can't remember the last time she had sex. so she knew Tangerine would make this moment special. For her.

"you sure, sweetheart?"

god.

"yes, very sure."

he nods his head before reaching out for her face, rough hands cupping his reddened cheeks. "I'll take such good care of you tonight, bunny." she hums.

leaning into his touch, her whole body turns to goo when Tangerine's hand moves to her lower back and traces the ridge of her spine. "so pretty." she can't help but giggle.

with a few moves, he takes off most of her clothes, some of his too. they were now both left in their underwear, staring at one another as in a silent dance. Tangerine takes a handful of her breasts, guiding her slowly to lie back down on the mattress. The silk covers crinkled around their weight.

he leans down and takes one of her nipples into his mouth, whilst one of his palms slides down to her panties. he smirks once he senses the wet spot etched into them.

"so fuckin' soaked for me, love."

"just f-for you."

he knows.

"barely touched you though. are you that desperate for me to fill that tight cunt of yours? ㅡ hm, c'mon, talk to me, bunny."

she feels so small, so helpless. so pathetic. but she loves every second of it.

"please, need you toㅡ to feel me up...tan, please."

"shh, i got ya." in one swoop, he removes both their underwear, practically ripping them off of her, earning a soft moan from the sprawled out girl under him.

Tangerine lets his fingers pass through her wet folds, gathering all the juices before he shoves two digits deep inside of her. he pumps them slowly, letting the poor girl buck her hips against nothing as she desperately yearned for more.

"so tight, bunny. so tight 'n pretty." he preps kisses over her belly and pussy as those two fingers work her out, making a mess of her.

"p-pleaseㅡ gimme.."

"give ya what, sweetheart?" she whines. he knows what she wantsㅡㅡ needs.

"inside, put it i-insideㅡ"

he scoffs, taking out his fingers and leaving her to squeeze around nothing. they lock eyes and he brings those two fingers to her lips, urging them open. "suck. show me, c'mon."

she does just that. swirling her tongue and suckling on those digits like her life depended on it. "good girl. good fuckin' girl" he praises.

with those sleek fingers he drags them along her body and down to her pulsing clit as the other hand wraps around his shaft, pumping it. her eyes roll back, scooting closer to Tangerine, doing anything to get him inside of her.

"you ready, bunny?"

she was. she was also scared. it's why she tried so hard to not look at the monster in front of her: long, girthy, pulsing ar every breath Tangerine took.

"mhm, hurry ㅡ please."

"needy girl." chuckling, he gathers some of her slick with his tip, teasing at her clit and making her moan desperately. with a few more seconds passing, he finally decides to push inside.

god. it hurts.

so bad.

so good.

"shit, loveㅡ so fuckin' tight and wet for me, huh?"

and he goes at it. likes there's no tomorrow, he rams into her, just like he imagined for the past year he would one day. she's his. his. his to take and ruin and taint and love.

his.

his.

"fuckin' hellㅡㅡ" tangerine chokes back a moan as he steadily grabs at her hips, his tight hold surely leaving marks that'll hold like stains for weeks. he plunges deep into her, leaving no room for air. holding her close, he kisses her all over, listening to the sweet sounds that dripped from her lips like honeyㅡㅡ like poison.

"shit, tanㅡ 'm gonna.."

"it's okay, bunny. let go, go ahead."

bliss. ecstasy. she gasps and hold onto him. it feels like she's falling and floating, plummeting to the ground but flying to the clouds.

they kiss. he was so hungry.

she's his.

"thank you." she smiles up at him.

you red my mind.

⁽⁽ଘ( ˊᵕˋ )ଓ⁾⁾‎  토끼's NOTE : HEY YALL SPECIAL TAN FIC FOR A SPECIAL SOMEONE WINK WINK. this has only 2.1k words SORRAY!!!! grammatical errors cuz its not proofread. ALSO TYSM FOR 100 FOLLOWS YAY I LITERALLY LOVE U ALL SM MUAH!!!!!

[void-rainbow]

Random thoughts on enjoying the Collector, especially me writing in its pov

As much as I'm still kinda embarrassed about it

Not the best at self expression

And, that's what it comes down to I guess. Lots of self-expression in ways I find a bit difficult and embarrassing, but quite enjoyable

Er, I say difficult but--the actual writing process tends to be easy. Easy to get into the Collector's head

(As is common I can never keep things simple. This does have some things about mental illness and personal pains)

In my life I've had. Carefully controlled behavior. Which hasn't been entirely consistent in what behavior is aimed for. Or successful. And hasn't been the same in intensity

Just got...too much ptsd. Too many messages throughout life telling me everything about me was wrong. Too many times I was told my own reactions to mistreatment were more of a problem than the mistreatment. Too many times where I was told that my own mental health symptoms had to be pushed aside and ignored in order to be properly functional

Too much trying to make myself something acceptable so I could stop being hurt. Even as I did protest. I guess, it feels like, the bad messages won out over me in the end

It's hard to let go. It's hard to allow freer behavior

Especially as sometimes, I think, beneath the surface of what I allow myself....there's a lot of chaos

I've had a lot of really terrible mental health symptoms in my life. And their expression has been different at different points. Sometimes I think I don't even know how many symptoms I have, because they're beneath the control. Beneath the exterior shell that's constructed to keep some level of control over anything that people could possibly hurt me over

But...that's most things. Most any part of myself could be unacceptable to others

But even as there are a lot of nice things, I do think there's a lot of pain and bad symptoms there too. Things that even well-meaning people might freak out over. I don't know. Sometimes I'm not sure, if I do express some symptoms, if it means my life is worse, or if it means my life is better because it's a blow to the suffocating control, and just letting out things that were always there. And maybe some of the bad can be allowed to escape and lose power

I don't know

But I do know that writing someone like the Collector feels freeing to me

The words flow so easily for its mindset. Because it's just how I write sometimes, privately. Especially when feeling some of the worse mental health symptoms

I get embarrassed to express outwardly my enjoyment of the Collector. It does make me feel more exposed. I was nervous to admit how easy the writing is to me. To think about how people would think about me, and what that means for my own mental state, and possibly face judgement

The Collector is weird. Many find it creepy. And. You can't say it doesn't have uh. Some highly questionable actions. Unambiguously bad behavior. Even as in its own mind, it wants to do good for those around it

There's something wrong with its mind. What exactly? It's hard to say. I guess for my own interpretation it finds the command put on it at the time of its creation, to protect, something difficult to escape (and indeed, it doesn't want to). But also it has other weaknesses of thought, and as it gains experiences...can develop even more issues in perhaps a more natural manner.

I end up hoping others can enjoy the Collector. Even if I write it with a full host of issues. I hope some can be sympathetic. Others, uh, are still gonna be Bad Choices™️ that are less so. I just hope that people don't find it creepy only for having a weird mental state. I think most don't. And that does make me happy. I just hope that there's a place for me in the world. Even if I display symptoms that are unattractive or concerning to some people

[msjesse]

On The Matters of Mathematics

Mathematics, with its elegance, order, and precision, is not merely a human invention. It reflects the very mind of God. Though devised as a language to describe and understand the created world, its existence reveals a Creator who has woven consistent laws and patterns into the universe. The sunrise, the rhythm of seasons, the flight of a bird, all testify to a cosmos governed by a sovereign God, not by chaos, but by peace and divine order.

From a Reformed perspective, man, made in the image of God, possesses the faculties of reason, observation, and imagination. These capacities serve the cultural mandate: to subdue the earth and cultivate it for God's glory. Mathematics, therefore, is not a random achievement but a purposeful tool. Through it, humanity has developed civilizations, refined inventions, and built societies through specialized labor. Even in the imagination of a telescope, one sees God's common grace at work, enabling mankind to transform invisible ideas into visible realities.

The "mathematical mind," as Montessori described it, is not limited to computation; it is the mind’s innate drive toward order, logic, and abstraction. In children, this mind reveals itself early, around the age of three, as a natural sensitivity to numbers. When nurtured with rich, sensorial experiences tied to concrete materials, the young child's mind is nourished and ordered, preparing for later abstraction. In this process, one sees God’s providence at work, for children are not blank slates—they are image-bearers, endowed with a tendency to seek patterns, explore relationships, and construct meaning.

Mathematical understanding mirrors spiritual formation: beginning concretely, growing through reflection, and culminating in wisdom and abstraction. Just as Scripture teaches that learning is “precept upon precept” (Isaiah 28:10), so mathematics builds carefully, layer upon layer, requiring patience and humility.

Montessori’s insights harmonize with a biblical vision: math is best presented, not forced; vocabulary is best modeled, not imposed. When a child encounters the beauty of mathematical order through meaningful work, he glimpses the glory of the Creator. Even children who enter Montessori education later in life can, with love and intentionality, recover wonder and align their minds with the order of God’s creation. Mathematics becomes not just an academic pursuit, but a sacred invitation to explore, discover, and give glory to the One who ordered the heavens with perfect wisdom (Psalm 19:1–2; Colossians 2:3).

The Nature of Mathematics

Mathematics is a logical, universal language developed to describe the order and laws woven into the fabric of creation. Like spoken and written language, math allows humans to make sense of the patterns they observe in the world around them, from the rising and setting of the sun to the flight patterns of birds.

All phenomena are governed by predictable, logical laws. Humanity’s ability to discern these laws and express them mathematically is a reflection of being made in the image of God.

Humanity's Mathematical Capacity

The human capacity for mathematics stems from God's design. Humans observe, discern patterns, and, through reason and imagination, develop tools, refine ideas, and advance civilizations. Labor is distributed across societies, allowing specialization and the flourishing of human culture. The telescope, imagined by Galileo and made reality, exemplifies this process: a move from abstract thought to concrete invention. Such achievements reflect God's common grace, allowing humanity to exercise dominion over creation as stewards. Mathematics is a natural part of daily life. From the earliest civilizations, humans have instinctively used mathematics to meet their fundamental needs, improve tools, and refine inventions. This constant cycle of observation, modification, and perfection requires exactness and precision—qualities inherent to the mathematical mind.

Key Concepts in Mathematical Thinking

Mathematical Mind

According to Montessori, the mathematical mind goes beyond operations. It embodies observation, logic, order, and the drive toward exactness. Observation, when intentionally trained, builds precision in thought. Children are naturally drawn to order and precision; these qualities spark spontaneous, meaningful work. This tendency to invent, modify, and refine is inherent in humanity. It mirrors the Creator's work of ordering the universe and equips children to meet their needs creatively and effectively.

Mathematics in Early Childhood (Casa Level)

By the age of three, children show a keen interest in numbers and sequences. Montessori emphasized that early mathematical experiences must be sensorial and concrete.

Children manipulate materials that materialize abstract concepts: they see, touch, and hear mathematics before moving into the realm of symbols and abstraction. Through these experiences, they build intuitive understanding, preparing the mind for future formal operations.

Quantity is first experienced as a set, not as an abstract number. Only after concrete exploration do children associate symbols with quantities. Full sensorial experiences are essential; without them, gaps emerge, particularly in memorization and abstraction.

Transition to Abstraction

Mathematics must transition gradually from concrete to abstract. A solid foundation built on sensorial experience supports later mental operations like multiplication, division, and algebraic thinking. The base-10 system (from Latin deci, meaning ten) is presented concretely before it is symbolized abstractly. Montessori recognized that premature abstraction—asking children to memorize tables without experience—makes mathematics an act of will rather than an act of joyful discovery. Thus, early experiences with spatial orientation, pattern recognition, and logical sequencing form the "mind maps" necessary for later abstract thought.

Montessori’s Approach to Teaching Mathematics

Mathematics is presented, not "taught," as an invitation to explore truth and beauty. Clear, exact vocabulary, such as terms like "commutative property", is introduced naturally, attached to meaningful experiences. Mathematics should be engaging and joyful, allowing children to do math, not merely hear about it. The goal is deep understanding and a seamless passage to abstraction, achieved through synthesis rather than rote memorization.

Children who enter the Montessori environment later, especially around six years of age, often carry habits from traditional educational systems. While they no longer possess the "absorbent mind" of early childhood, they retain the human tendencies toward order, exploration, and invention. The Montessori guide must help them lay a new foundation, adjusting methods to suit the second plane of development. Encouragement, clarity, and enthusiasm help these children overcome past "baggage" and align their learning with the order of creation.

Mathematics is not an isolated discipline. It is a divine invitation to explore the mind of God, who established the heavens and earth with wisdom and number. To teach mathematics is to disciple the mind. To learn mathematics is to worship with the intellect.

In the precision of numbers, the beauty of patterns, and the order of space, the believer glimpses the infinite wisdom of Christ, "in whom are hidden all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge" (Colossians 2:3). Montessori's vision, viewed through the lens of Reformed theology, invites educators and children alike to approach mathematics not as a burden, but as a sacred joy—a call to wonder, worship, and work.

[acceptedguy]

Development Blog: Timeless Epoch

Blog #9 – Inspirational Breakdown: Isaac Oster’s Procedural Cell Tower 

As I continue to develop the backbone of Timeless Epoch, I find it important not only to study beautiful environments and fantastical worlds, but to also look toward precise, technically sound projects that showcase strong modular logic and procedural construction. One such project that stood out during my research phase was Isaac Oster’s “Procedural Cell Tower”, a technical showcase on ArtStation that embodies the kind of rule-based design thinking essential for any environment artist diving into PCG systems. 

While a modern cell tower may seem a world apart from the mythic ruins and strange architectures of Urubis Exilium, the systems and methodology behind Oster’s work have proven to be deeply relevant to how I think about modularity and procedural content creation. 

Breaking Down the Work 

Isaac Oster’s Procedural Cell Tower project demonstrates a system-driven approach to constructing vertical structures that rely heavily on: 

Repeated modules, stacked according to a procedural rule set 

Clearly defined pivot points and attachment logic 

The use of interchangeable elements to allow for visual variety without sacrificing structure 

A strong technical-art mindset that puts as much weight on workflow efficiency as it does on aesthetics 

What made his project so compelling was the modular clarity in the design. Each element—from antenna arms to support rings and tower segments—was created as an interchangeable piece, with a clear role in the system. This made it easy to understand how a procedural approach could not only construct the tower from the ground up but also adjust its visual tone depending on which modules were included. 

What I Took Away From It 

Even though my project is rooted in high-fantasy aesthetics and ancient-world architecture, the logic behind Oster’s design gave me valuable insight into the kinds of rules and parameters I’ll need to define for my PCG system in Timeless Epoch. 

Key lessons I took from his work: 

Procedural clarity comes from modular discipline: Every module in his tower serves a function. This reinforces that for procedural systems to work well, the modular kits must be designed with technical precision. 

Vertical stacking logic: The cell tower structure exemplifies controlled verticality, something I can adapt to structures like towers, minarets, or chimneys in Urubis Exilium. 

Controlled randomness: Even though procedural generation can introduce variety, Oster’s work shows that this variety must be grounded in carefully constrained systems. Randomness without logic breaks immersion. 

This mindset is directly influencing how I’ll approach building sets for different architectural factions in the world—where each module will carry a clear identity but follow structural logic for clean, procedural placement. 

How It Connects to Timeless Epoch 

In Timeless Epoch, I aim to create a city that evolves out of exile—built by people who bring their own blueprints, ideologies, and construction methods. The result will not be symmetrical or uniform. Instead, it will be structured chaos—with the PCG system responsible for stitching together disparate modules into coherent architecture. 

Here’s how Oster’s methodology feeds into that: 

His tower structure = My factional verticals. I’m adapting his stacking method for watchtowers, pylons, and spires, each built differently depending on the cultural module set. 

His logic-driven assembly = My procedural rules. I want my PCG system to detect placement patterns, such as vertical progression or enclosed nodes, and respond accordingly. 

His interchangeability = My architectural diversity. Swapping in a few modules should result in a vastly different architectural tone—just like swapping materials and methods between cultures in Urubis. 

Final Thoughts 

Isaac Oster’s work may not involve medieval towers or fantasy environments, but it perfectly illustrates what clean modular thinking looks like when integrated into procedural workflows. It’s a great reminder that before any PCG system can produce beauty, it must be built upon a foundation of technical clarity and system logic. 

As I now begin prototyping my modular asset kits, Oster’s principles will be top of mind. Each piece I design must carry within it the logic for how it connects, transforms, and scales across a procedurally generated world. 

[fics-not-tragedies]

Bad Habits: Chapter Ten

prologue - one - two - three - four - five - six - seven - eight - nine - ten - eleven - twelve - thirteen - fourteen - fiveteen - …

New parts coming Saturdays and Wednesdays.

Words: 2383; Warnings: lots of Italian pet names, some gun violence as well, mentions of blood, swearing; Summary: You and Santino escaped the mansion and now you have even more questions than answers;

Readers tag list:

@marytvirgin; @penwieldingdreamer

Chapter 10: “The Unfinished Threat”

The rhythmic thrum of the helicopter’s blades filled the silence as you sat pressed against Santino’s side, his arm draped protectively around you. His warmth was steady, a contrast to the chill that had settled in your bones. Outside, the dark expanse of the countryside stretched endlessly, the villa and the chaos of the attack now miles behind.

But you couldn’t escape the weight of the questions piling up inside you.

Santino sat rigid, his gaze fixed on the horizon as if trying to will the night to yield its answers. His grip on you never wavered, yet his silence was heavy. Finally, you shifted to face him, your voice cutting through the hum of the engine.

“Tell me the truth, Santino,” you said, your words quiet but insistent. “Who were they? What do they want?”

He exhaled sharply, his free hand dragging down his face. “You’ve already seen too much, bella,” he said, his tone heavy with regret. “You deserve answers. But they won’t be easy to hear.”

“I don’t care if it’s easy,” you shot back, the fear and anger that had been simmering beneath your surface boiling over. “I’ve been shot at. I’ve watched people die tonight—for you. I need to know why.”

His gaze snapped to yours, the intensity in his dark eyes making your breath hitch. For a moment, it seemed like he might push you away, retreat back into the carefully constructed armor he wore so well. But then, he nodded, as if coming to terms with a decision he couldn’t take back.

“They’re mercenaries,” he began, his voice steady but low. “Hired by men who want me dead. Men who see me as a threat to their power.”

“A threat?” you pressed, leaning closer. “Power over what?”

He hesitated, his jaw tightening. “The families. The syndicates that control more than you can imagine—business, politics, money. I’m part of that world, bella, whether I want to be or not. Born into it. And now, leading it.”

You stared at him, the weight of his confession sinking in. It was as if a puzzle piece you didn’t know was missing had clicked into place, reframing everything you thought you knew about him. The tailored suits, the guarded demeanor, the dangerous edge to his charm—it all made sense now.

“You’re…” You struggled to find the words. “You’re a crime boss?”

His lips curved into a humorless smile. “That’s what some would call me, sì. To others, I’m a protector. A necessary evil in a world where the rules are written in blood.”

The revelation left you breathless, your mind spinning as you tried to reconcile the man before you with the violence you’d just witnessed. “And tonight?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “Why did they attack us?”

“Because I’ve made enemies by doing things differently,” he admitted, his tone darkening. “I’ve challenged the old ways. Refused to bow to men who believe fear is the only currency. They see me as a threat to their control, and they’ll do whatever it takes to eliminate me.”

Your heart pounded as you processed his words. The danger you’d been thrust into wasn’t some random act of violence. It was calculated, a move in a game far more complex than you’d realized.

“And me?” you asked, your voice trembling. “Was I just… collateral damage?”

His expression softened, the sharp edges of his features giving way to something achingly vulnerable. “No,” he said, his voice fierce. “Never. You were in the wrong place at the wrong time, but I won’t let you pay the price for their vendettas.”

You didn’t know whether to be comforted or terrified by his words. “But now they’ve seen me with you,” you said, the realization sinking in. “Won’t they come after me, too?”

A muscle in his jaw twitched as he reached out, his hand gently brushing your cheek. “That’s why I’m taking you somewhere safe. Where they can’t touch you.”

“And then what?” you asked, your voice breaking. “I just go back to my life and pretend none of this happened?”

His hand lingered, his thumb tracing a soft line along your cheekbone. “I don’t know yet,” he admitted, his voice low and filled with something you couldn’t quite name. “But I promise you this—I won’t let anything happen to you. amore,”

His words hung between you, a vow and a burden all at once. Before you could respond, the pilot’s voice crackled through the intercom.

“We’re five minutes out,” he said. “Approaching the mansion.”

Santino pulled back slightly, his attention shifting to the window as the helicopter began its descent. The landscape below transformed into a sprawling estate, its grounds illuminated by security lights. It was as grand as the villa, but something about its remote location made it feel even more untouchable.

“Stay with me,” Santino murmured, his hand finding yours again as the helicopter touched down. “You’re safe with me, bella. I swear it.”

You wanted to believe him. But as the rotors slowed and the door opened to reveal the shadowed figures of more guards waiting, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was only the beginning.

The guards moved swiftly, their sharp silhouettes cutting through the dim light as they approached the helicopter. One opened the door with practiced efficiency, his sharp eyes scanning the area as Santino helped you out. The moment your feet hit the ground, the brisk night air whipped around you, carrying the faint scent of pine and earth.

Santino’s grip on your hand was steady, an anchor against the swirling storm of uncertainty inside you. His guards flanked you both as you moved toward the safe house, their movements precise and synchronized. This wasn’t just a team—it was a fortress in human form, every member attuned to the dangers lurking in the shadows.

The mansion loomed ahead, an imposing structure that seemed built for secrecy and security. Tall stone walls surrounded the property, broken only by a single steel gate that groaned open as the guards led you inside. Floodlights illuminated the path, casting sharp angles of light and shadow that made the place feel both eerily beautiful and suffocating.

Once inside, the atmosphere shifted. The interior was sleek and modern, all clean lines and muted tones, a stark contrast to the sprawling villa you’d just left. Santino guided you to a low leather couch in the living room, gesturing for you to sit as the guards began their checks—securing windows, communicating in clipped tones through earpieces, and setting up surveillance equipment.

“Drink this, amore,” Santino said softly, handing you a glass of water as he crouched before you. His voice was calm, but the tension in his shoulders betrayed him. “You’ve had a shock.”

You accepted the glass, your hands trembling slightly as you brought it to your lips. The water was cool and grounding, a welcome distraction from the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you. Santino didn’t move, his dark eyes locked onto you like he was searching for something—some clue that you were okay.

The cold press of Santino’s gaze never wavered as you drank, his attention focused on you with an intensity that felt both protective and unnerving. Every second that passed in the stillness between you seemed to stretch endlessly. The lingering pain from your wound throbbed in the background, a constant reminder of what had happened, but the warmth of the water and the security of his presence helped to dull the worst of it.

“Are you okay?” Santino asked, his voice low but steady. It was a simple question, yet it carried an undercurrent of something deeper—something unspoken, a weight that hung between you.

You nodded, the cool glass in your hand offering comfort as you slowly set it down on the table. “I’m fine,” you said, your voice surprisingly steady considering how fast everything had unraveled.

Santino’s gaze softened ever so slightly, but his eyes were still shadowed with concern. Before he could speak again, the sound of a door opening in the hallway caught your attention. You turned your head, and moments later, a man entered the room.

He was tall, with a weathered face that spoke of years of experience, a doctor’s kit slung over his shoulder. His presence was professional, but there was a quiet urgency to his movements that told you this wasn’t a routine visit.

“Mr. D’Antonio,” the doctor greeted, his voice calm but practiced. “I’m here to tend to the injury.”

Santino stood up as the doctor approached, his eyes never leaving you as he spoke. “Take care of her,” he said simply, his voice hard with command.

The doctor nodded, setting down his kit on the nearby table before he came over to you. “Let’s have a look at your shoulder,” he said gently, kneeling in front of you. His hands were steady as he unwrapped the bandages, revealing the wound beneath—a bullet graze just above your collarbone, still raw and angry, but not deep enough to cause permanent damage.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, his voice professional, his fingers gently probing around the area to assess the damage.

“A little,” you replied, your breath catching slightly as his fingers grazed the tender skin.

Santino’s presence hovered nearby, though he didn’t step forward. He stood against the wall, his arms crossed, his jaw tight. The air between you two was thick with tension, as if he were struggling with the weight of the situation, the responsibility of it all. You could feel the weight of his stare as the doctor began preparing to stitch up the wound.

“Stay still miss,” the doctor instructed, glancing up at you for a moment before turning to Santino. “This might sting a little.”

Santino didn’t say anything, but his eyes locked with yours, a silent reassurance passing between you. The sting of the needle as the doctor began stitching up the wound was sharp, but it was bearable. You clenched your jaw to keep from reacting too much, focusing on the steadiness of Santino’s gaze.

As the doctor finished, sealing the wound with a few final sutures, Santino stepped forward, the air around him still crackling with the same commanding presence. He pulled out a single coin from his pocket—one cold, metallic piece of money—and handed it to the doctor without a word.

The doctor took it without hesitation, glancing at it only for a moment before nodding in silent agreement. “Thank you, Mr. D’Antonio,” he said simply, before gathering his things and quietly exiting the room.

The door clicked shut behind him, and for a long moment, it was just the two of you again. Santino didn’t move from where he stood, watching you closely. You could tell by his posture that he was still on edge, his tension far from abating.

“You’re all set,” you said, breaking the silence. “I’ll be fine.”

Santino didn’t reply immediately, his eyes searching yours for something more—something that went beyond the surface words. Finally, his lips tightened, his voice rough when he spoke.

“You shouldn’t have been in this situation to begin with.” His words were low but sharp, like a warning. “I’m sorry you had to experience this, amore.”

You shook your head slightly, not wanting his guilt to settle on you. “I’m not blaming you, Santino. But I need to know—who was after you? Why?”

His jaw clenched, and for a moment, it seemed like he might tell you everything. But instead, he sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair, frustration flickering in his eyes.

“I’ll explain soon,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “But right now, I just need you to rest. Please, bella.”

You nodded, your mind still racing, but the exhaustion in your body pulled at you. Santino’s eyes softened, and he moved to sit beside you again, his presence a steady comfort, even if the night’s events had left everything hanging in uncertainty.

“You’re safe now,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a softer note. “I’ll make sure it stays that way.”

“Santino,” you began, “You said I’m safe here, but for how long? What’s stopping them from finding us again?”

“They won’t,” he said firmly. His presence seemed to fill the room, his confidence a shield against the doubt gnawing at your mind. “This place is off every map, guarded by men I trust with my life. No one will find you here.”

“You keep saying that,” you replied, your frustration bubbling to the surface. “But you can’t guarantee it, can you? Tonight proves that they’ll stop at nothing to get to you—and now they know about me.”

His jaw tightened, the veneer of control slipping for a moment as he turned away. He paced the length of the room, his hand raking through his hair as he wrestled with something unsaid. Finally, he stopped, facing you again.

“You’re right,” he admitted, his voice low but firm. “I can’t guarantee anything. But I can promise that I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe—even if it means staying here until this is over.”

Your eyes widened. “Staying here? With me?”

“Yes,” he said simply, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “You’re in this because of me. I won’t leave you to face it alone.”

His words sent a strange warmth coursing through you, battling against the fear that still lingered in your chest. There was something in the way he said it, in the unyielding conviction in his voice, that made you believe him. But it also raised another question—one you weren’t sure you were ready to ask.

“And then what?” you whispered. “When this is over, what happens to me? To us?”

Santino’s expression softened, the intensity in his gaze giving way to something more vulnerable. He stepped closer, his fingers brushing against yours as he crouched before you again. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I do know this—you’ve changed something in me, bella. I can’t go back to the way things were. Not after tonight.”

Your breath caught, the weight of his words settling over you like a blanket—warm and heavy and terrifying all at once. Before you could respond, a sharp knock echoed through the room, breaking the moment.

[mondoreb]

End Times Prophecy Headlines: December 2, 2019

End Times Prophecy Headlines: December 2, 2019

Bible prophecy in today’s news headlines

End Times Prophecy Report HEADLINES MONDAY December 2, 2019

And OPINION

“And Jesus answered and said unto them, Take heed that no man deceive you.” —Matthew 24:4

===INTERNATIONAL

IRAQ: :Iraqi PM Abdul Mahdi submits resignation to parliament

GERMANY: Germany is closing all its nuclear power plants. Now it must find a place to bury the deadly waste for 1…

[sasorikigai]

Eternity can weigh heavily on the shoulders of one whom lives longer than they ever should. But surely it must be even worse for one who has embraced death but has not bee claimed by it. Yang could relate to how empty Scorpion felt, the familiarity of heavy loss, witnessing loved ones, friends, family, all of it wiped out. And thus, here she shall stay, right there with the man whom has entangled so deeply with herself, body and soul, intimately understanding of each others pains and griefs. Arcana ever supporting each side of their threaded bond, in a constant rise and fall not unlike the pulsing shifting of seasons.

Arms wrapped softly around Hanzo from behind, having him lean back against her smaller form while softly placing gentle kisses upon his hair once the hood had been pulled down. Eyes hidden by their position for they felt so heavy with unseen weights, easily to keep them lidded or closed for the moment. Her embrace was warm around him, yet loose, in case the ancient Shirai Ryu warrior wished to turn around at any point, or to move free. " 私のファイアローズ。" The voice whispered softly, term of endearment like a song carefully carried from the depths of her heart that ever beat heavily, strongly, against her ribcage in stubborn refusal to ever give out. "I've got you. Right here for you to pull you back from everything."

A soft hum came then. "I've been studying annals of history- and have some designs. As well as set aside supply and funds. all to try and help you recreate the best Shirai Ryu that can be done, I will help give you back everything that I can give."

Random Inbox Shenanigans || @yetremains || always accepting!

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥 || Pain stings; inflicted by perpetuity of Scorpion’s own doing. Scars may have healed from the years of whirlwind permanence of self-destruction and battles he continues to fight against adversities, including his own demons and those that threaten to usurp the once sacred and tranquil Shirai Ryu land, now governed by mercenary factions. The feeling of ribs, hollow beneath remains still, with a bare cadence of a heartbeat to be heard. The echoing silence within the empty section of his brain screams chaos, surrounded by uncontrollable paranoia bordering cemented depression. How Scorpion continues to view the world in commingling cornucopia of mixed hues, but as of late, they all had been infected with cumulating stacks of obsidian black. How he misses all the colorful waves, of their splashes brought with the hubbub of Shirai Ryu compounds, with thriving communities and lively people of tight-knitted magnanimous flame dwelling beneath the resplendent radiance. 

This is the perpetual heartbreak, this is the proverbial emptiness of the void. Scorpion may truly be a damned specter; present, but not there, without the ignited fire of his heart, without the smoldering gaze that once spoke of magnanimous kindness and contentment through the saccharine honey of his dark amber gaze. Scorpion has never felt more weaker and vulnerable than ever before; for his edges crack and scrape together, on the verge of dissolution and disintegration with every passing thought and construct of time. He could very well imagine, his immolation would fill his insides with white dust, piling inside his tissue like snowfall, numbing and paralyzing his senses. The dust of his bones and scattered ashes beneath the funeral pyre would cause the rubicund red of his livelihood to fade, as if his skin would melt off and reveal his muscle tissues. How his white iridescent eyes glisten like a narrow star, descending upon Hanzo Hasashi’s once darkened coal gaze, full of promises, creation, and recreation of hopes.

“彼らの死の日までに残された切り傷をすり抜けてしまったので、これまで以上に私をしっかりと抱きしめてください. [ Hold me tighter than ever before, because I find myself slipping through the cuts left by the day of their deaths. ]” Scorpion forces a coaxed smile, not quite reaching the embedded solemnity and austerity of his carved, unchanging expression of grief and guilt. And his next expression is of once unfounded hope - developing as his throbbing heartbeat pulsates in jagged bursts and refuses to fade out, in utmost hopes and aspirations. “If your aid comes through and I get to witness the resurrection of the Shirai Ryu, with its honorable and disciplined philosophies and its people abundant, safeguarded, and happy - then I would give everything that I could offer in order to make this chimerical dream into a concrete reality.”  ▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥 ||

[pagankingfinn]

The Unfaltering Chaos Trio - Chapter 1 - Goddamn it Izu

The noise of multiple sets of feet pounding against the pavement echoed up the walls of the building around them. The tallest figure spun around to cover their escape with a veil of fire, following the shorter companions soon after. The shouts of heros and the sirens of police cars reverberate around the inside of their skulls.

The tallest had dark, almost purple in color, burn scars that covered his body. Between old and new injuries it was difficult to tell what his condition was. He seemed to mostly be covered in dirt, however, the unlit alley ways provided no way to tell.

“Izuku this is all your fault!” The tallest yelled, the smallest responded by flipping his head back with a grin and a giggle. His green and black curly hair was pulled into a messy bun, his dark moss green eyes glimmered with mischief, he had several injuries already but didn’t seem to notice as he ran with a limp. The female running beside him was covered in scrapes and bruises, the hems of her clothing were singed and ripped.

“You’re welcome Dabi!” He responded as he looked forward again, and led the other two through the streets. Despite the delays they had been setting up, they could hear the pro heros getting closer and closer. A fireball narrowly missed the female of the group, hitting Izuku in the back. He cried out in pain as he stumbled and fell.

“Shit! Come on Izuku, tell us which way to go!” The female spoke as the taller male carried Izuku on his back. The anxiety of the three rose with every passing second, the heros were on their heels as they continued to run through the streets.

Before they could get any instructions, their escape was cut off by a wall of branches. The other passage was blocked off by several pro heros. Their sweat dropped as they heard the familiar thump of combat boots against concrete. They spun around to look at the raven haired man.

As Dabi and the unnamed female took a fighting stance, they were cut off before anything could happen.

“Your friend needs medical attention, it would be wise to surrender before he gets worse.” The pro hero, Eraserhead, stated. The pair didn’t seem to like that, seeing as the female gave a loud outburst in response.

“NOBODY TOUCHES OUR LITTLE BROTHER!” She screamed, the only thing keeping her from lunging forward was the weak grip she felt on the shoulder of her sweater. She looked to see Izuku was the one who had grabbed hold of her sweater, while Dabi sweeped his arm out to keep the female back.

“Toga, we’re surrounded. If we fight now, we might lose Izuku. Look at him-” Dabi tried to reason, Toga’s head dropped to the ground as she reached up and gently grasped the hand holding onto her sweater. They both knew that there was no way to easily heal him, after all the organization they belonged to had no healer in the group.

Izuku began to slip off Dabi as he spoke, Toga let out a screech as he rushed to try and support their chosen family member. Dabi looked alarm as they turned their attention to the boy faintly breathing at this point. They shared a look before slowly nodding, and surrendering.

Except, they forgot to put Izuku down beforehand, so they ended up dropping him on accident. Luckily Eraserhead was fast enough to use his capture gear and grab the boy.

The rest went as expected, except with Izuku in an ambulance while Toga and Dabi were being taken in for questioning. They ended up taking an offer that they couldn’t refuse from a mouse bear dog creature, and then were taken into the newest place of residence for the next few years.

That’s how Izuku woke up, handcuffed to a hospital bed, covered in bandages, with Toga sleeping next to him and Dabi leaned across the end of the bed in a chair. He stirred slightly and made a small noise as he reached out for his older brother.

“Hey Izu, how’d you sleep?” Toga asked him as she woke up and sat up, hooking an arm under his right armpit and holding his left arm to help him sit up. She then used her foot to poke Dabi awake.

“... Where are we?” Izuku rasped out, looking around the room carefully. Dabi slowly looked up and saw that Toga was helping to support the sickliest member of their sibling group. Dabi moved onto the bed, sliding behind Izuku so that he could fit. He looked at the bandages on his back and slowly untied them.

“We’re in UA. They used you as a bargaining chip against us, if we didn’t accept they were going to seperate us all.” Dabi explained as he unwrapped the tight bandages. Unfortunately, because of how Izuku’s broken bones had healed when he was younger, he had to be careful to not cause any more breakage. Izuku slumped softly against Dabi once the wrappings weren’t so tight.

“Thank you.” Izuku mumbled in gratitude. He shifted until he was more against the larger male, enjoying the heat his body gave off as it helped relax his taxed muscles. Toga joined her brothers in the pile on the bed, nestling into the crook beside Izuku.

That’s how the UA staff found them, well, that’s how Aizawa, Nezu, and Recovery Girl found them. They looked up silently at the door as it opened, the three of them stiffening as their muscles tensed. Dabi dragged Izuku closer to him as the trio subconsciously tried to squeeze themselves as much as possible against the white brick wall. They stood out against the sterile environment of the infirmary.

Izuku glared at the three, ignoring the tender areas on his back as he pressed against Dabi. He pulled Toga closer as well. The sight was quite interesting, with the three teens tense and hunched over like vultures. They didn't make a move or speak as they looked at the adults in the room.

Nezu jumped up on the bed and Izuku nearly screamed in response. It was hard to not want to reflexively screech when a white furred creature jumps up onto your hospital bed. Toga, Izuku, and Dabi were all too dazed and off put by the surreal events to fully process what was going on.

Recovery Girl did end up yelling at Izuku for not having his bandages on, when it was explained that the boy had a history of breaking bones without proper treatment. Meaning that, and this was especially true for his ribs, if there was too much pressure applied he could break his bones again. It also didn’t help that Toga and Dabi wouldn’t let the old woman get near Izuku if she had any intent of breaking his bones to heal them.

Once Izuku was no longer clad in a hospital gown. He instead was now wearing his tattered clothing that had been repaired with staples and the most hideous prints Izuku had ever seen - courtesy of Dabi and Toga - a random tee shirt, and the rest of his regular outfit. Including the twink shorts, stockings, garter belt, and high tops that had been dragged through the zombie apocalypse and back four times over.

Soon enough the chaotic trio had been led to the 1-A dorms, and shown their rooms. As the three weren’t allowed to leave campus yet, Nezu had instead placed them in the dorm systems as guinea pigs for how dorm life would look. Nezu would open up the dorms, likely at the end of the first semester, to the students.

It was only once the three children were inside the empty dorm building that they let out the breath they had been holding. They looked around the commons for a bit, then Aizawa gathered them shortly after.

“Alright you three, there’s a separate floor that’s just for you guys. Nezu had Cementos add to it while Izuku was in the infirmary. It does have running water and electricity, it’s also the floor where the boiler, furnace, and backup generators are. But you won’t be able to access that area.” Aizawa explained to them with an authoritative tone as he led the trio to the elevator. He inserted a key, opening up a button that would take them to the basement.

It was eerily quiet, the teens were still trying to process what in the fresh fuck was going on. It wasn’t too much of a surprise as their world had been turned upside down within only a few days.

“Thank you, we should be able to find our rooms from here.” Dabi huffed out as he coralled his siblings out of the elevator and sent them off down the hall. He raised his eye skeptically while Aizawa glared at him.

“What? We may have just had our entire world flipped, but we can take care of ourselves. We don’t need you or any other adult to keep us in check. The three od us may be chaotic but we’re not stupid, and even if Toga and Izuku are the most likely to get into trouble, they still know when to not push the boundries.” Dabi responded dryly, crossing his arms as he stood in front of Aizawa. His piercing lightning blue eyes seemed to cut into the hero’s soul.

“Yeah yeah, just stay out of trouble. Here’s a copy of the key to the elevator, don’t lose it.” Aizawa responded with the same dry tone, he placed a spare key in the hands of the teenager. He continued his conversation as he walked to the elevator.

“You three will be required to wear the UA uniforms tomorrow. I or another staff member will grab you tomorrow morning when classes start.” Aizawa spoke as he entered the elevator. The doors shut behind him, Dabi watching the entire time until he could hear the box departing. He headed in the direction Izuku and Toga went.

Toga came running around the corner screaming, hiding behind Dabi while the croaky cackling of Izuku could be heard. “He found a bunch of tools left over from construction!” Toga squeaked as she cowered behind Dabi, Izuku came tearing around the corner soon after with a sledge hammer in hand as he grinned widely. He was covered in dust and seemed very proud of himself.

“I knocked out the walls between the point where two of the bathroom cabinets connect, and the wall between two of the closets. So now we can have tunnels to visit each other!” He squealed, dragging them off to show his handy work. Surprisingly he didn’t absolutely destroy the walls and had somehow managed to get fairly clean cuts.

“How did you-” Dabi began to ask, before being cut off by Izuku.

“Magic.”

Dabi looked at Toga, who gave him a shrug. He seemed to just accept the fact that their younger brother was one to take action without thinking. This was clearly one of those moments, as Izuku ran off to go explore some more. Meanwhile, Toga and Dabi decided to explore the now connected rooms. Each of them were bare beyond a closet with some uniforms, a night stand, and a bed. They wrinkled their noses in disgust with a light sneer.

“Hey Izuku! We’re going to dismantle the beds and move them all to the central room! Bring that tool box you found!” Toga yelled out into the halls, there was some rustling and a crash before Izuku came bounding over with a tool box. Dabi set out on dismantling the wooden frames while Toga and Izuku went to work on moving the mattresses out into the hall.

Izuku and Toga soon returned to grab tools and go dismantle the other bed frame, they kept the one in the central room intact. Using the closet tunnel they moved the pieces of the frame into the central room. Dabi got them to help move the pieces into the hall and into the central room.

The entire process took over an hour, and rebuilding a bed frame to fit three mattresses all next to each other took even longer. By the time they had finished they were all wiped out, they had no clocks in the dorms, but guessing by their biological clocks and their exhaustion they figured it was around 9 or 10 pm.

The low growling of their stomachs shook them from their shock as they sighed, Toga flopped onto one of the mattresses with a heavy huff. Izuku gave a sigh.

“I’ll go scrounge something together for us, there’s likely something I can manage to find in the school kitchen.” Izuku offered, he had the most experience with living on the streets than the other two. So when it came to times like this he was usually the one to go and scrounge around.

On the other side of the city, it had taken Aizawa until he got home to realize he forgot to tell the kids to go grab food. He mentally cursed at himself, there wouldn’t be any other teachers present at this time to tell the kids. He didn’t have any way to call them, as he didn’t have their numbers despite them having phones.

Izuku didn’t take long to exploit his skills of having the flexibility of a ferret. To the boy, climbing around and finding escape routes was like a sixth sense. So within fifteen minutes, he had escaped the basement, gotten out of the dorms, snuck into the cafeteria through the kitchen back door, and was now poking around to see what he could find.

There! An open bag of white rice. He looked around for something to put the rice in, deciding to turn his hoodie around and use his hood to carry the rice. He filled it with as much as he could manage, pulled the draw strings tight, and fled before he could push his luck too far. He was back to the dorms even quicker now that he knew where to enter the basement again.

It wasn’t long before Izuku had found a hot plate and a small pot to cook with, he squirreled away back to the room where his siblings were. Toga sat up when she heard Izuku, and Dabi looked over from where he was seated. They watched as Izuku filled the pot with water and plugged in the hot plate. He scampered off to grab a lid, a stirring spoon, and some dishware to use.

Izuku had only made a small portion of the rice, and soon enough the rice finished cooking. The trio was able to dish up their plain meal. Izuku unplugged the hot plate as he and his siblings dug into the bland rice, but even so they enjoyed just having something warm to eat. Soon enough with the warmth of food inside them, mixed with exhaustion, they all climbed onto the beds and fell asleep with their limbs entangled.

The next morning the three woke up fairly early, each of them got up and stretched individually. Without saying a word, Toga bounded off to one of the bathrooms to shower, while Izuku and Dabi used the same one. Both boys had trouble reaching various spots. Izuku often couldn’t get all the soap out of the thick mop of hair on his head. While Dabi couldn’t always reach his back to clean the dirt out from under the staples and in between his scars. Izuku also liked to help Dabi re-dye his hair when the black began to face.

Soon enough all three were finished with their showers and had dried off. They each dawned the new uniforms they were required to wear, and Izuku went to wash the pot and cook up some more rice before a teacher came to grab them. All three of them scarfed down their rice after it was finished cooking. After, Izuku styled Toga’s hair into her usual space buns.

Dabi took the bun out of Izuku’s hair and brushed it while the other male was busy with Toga’s hair. He put it back up into a bun before brushing his own hair. Dabi grabbed the key and used it to access the elevator so that they could go sit in the commons. The three teens went and sat on the floor near the doorway while they waited for a teacher or staff member to come grab them. Time ticked by agonizingly slow for the tree, Izuku took to napping against the wall. Toga decided to subtly move the furniture around, while Dabi just charged his phone and played on it.

Finally salvation came in the form of the door knob turning. The three jumped to their feet and wept in joy as the boredom was finally banished from the kingdom, at least until the quest reset for the next person to come along and obtain it.

Izuku immediately recognized who the hero was without so much as looking directly at them. He quietly muttered indignantly under his breath, but didn’t comment on it as they followed Japan’s national golden labrador. Sufficient to say, the reverse-otaku for a hero was not the most favorite among the three. The vibrations of him walking up to the door were enough to rudely jar Izuku awake, and the smile that reflected light even in the depths of the abyss was enough to get the green haired teenager more than annoyed.

The walk through the halls didn’t seem to lift their spirits any higher. The sheer size of the place was enough to put all of them on edge, and the idea of it being filled with future heros didn’t help in the slightest. Eventually they reached the gargantuan doors of class 1-A, and just in time as they were called to enter the classroom.

Swallowing the anxiety in their throats and steeling themselves for the events of the future, they slid the door open and walked into the classroom. The murmurs and shouts of excitement died out entirely for a few blissful milliseconds, only for the chaos to return. They looked between each other, unsure what to do, before the caterpillar on the floor got up to quiet down the class.

“All of you be quiet. We have three new students joining us, as you can tell, they will introduce themselves and then you may ask questions. Keep the volume down, if I have to be woken up because you all are too rowdy there will be severe consequences.” The tired talking caterpillar spoke, the three stared at the amalgamation before realizing that it was a sleeping bag that contained their homeroom teacher.

Izuku hesitantly walked up to the podium to introduce himself, he wanted to get this done and over with. He spoke clearly to the class in an excited manner.

“I’m Izuku Midoriya, I don’t have a quirk. A fun fact is that I’ve broken several bones and never gotten any treatment, the worst is from when I broke four ribs.” He beamed, bouncing on his heels as if it was perfectly normal to have broken four ribs and even more bones.

Dabi gently pulled Izuku back, the small boy easily following as Toga soon took the place of where Izuku was once standing. She seemed to share the same attitude towards her greeting as Izuku, except not as much bent on the breakage of one’s body.

“I’m Toga Himiko! My quirk is Transform, I have to consume the blood of someone to take their form. I like knives and one time I ate a bird!” Toga enthusiastically spoke, spinning around to join Izuku. Dabi was the last one to go.

“I go by Dabi. My quirk is Cremation, basically I can use blue fire. These are my adopted siblings.” Dabi spoke plainly, making blue fire in his hand as a demonstration before putting it out and joining his siblings.

That’s when izuku noticed a particular ash blonde and pressed as close as he could to his siblings. While Izuku didn’t necessarily fear the man, he had mixed emotions and typically avoided confrontation at all costs.

“DEKU! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE YOU QUIRKLESS BASTARD!” The boy remarked angrily as his palms popped with the sound of small explosions. Izuku let out a sigh and stepped forward slightly.

“I’m not here by choice, flaming dumpster fire man fucking hit me with a fireball and I woke up here after collapsing on the ground. I’m here not because I want to be a hero, but because I’m a villain who got captured thanks to the pompous assholes you all look up to. Got that, Kacchan?” Izuku snipped back, the class went quiet as the resident angry pomeranian stopped working. Izuku gave an annoyed huff in response as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“We’re not answering any questions.” The three spoke before heading to their seats. They quietly conversed between each other as they ignored those around them.

[anniesarthistoryblog]

A Review of three works from the ‘Shape and Form’ Exhibition at @heartofthetribe Gallery, Glastonbury

As our final assignment for our Art History module for @strodefad​ we were required to write an essay discussing eithere an art history movement or a recent exhibition visited. Always up for a challenge i chose to write about the brief opportunity I got to see an art gallery between lockdowns in the new gallery that i am fortunate to have just a few minutes walk from my home here in Glastonbury.

What made it a really special experience was that i managed to contact two of the three artist I chose to include in the essay and they very generously answered my questions about their exhibit pieces to give me some context and process insights as first-hand accounts and it was wonderful to be able to ask the creators quesitons about their work and how they made it. The exhibition had high quality contributions from over 30 Somerset artists, so it was hard to select just 3 works, but  I managed and got the essay completed in time.

This is an analysis of three selected works from the ‘Shape and Form’ exhibition at the Heart of the Tribe Gallery in Glastonbury. The gallery only opened in September 2020 and despite the restrictions caused by the COVID pandemic, this was the third exhibition that the gallery has managed to stage since then.

Following a core artist group launch exhibition ‘Diversity’, and solo exhibition ‘Beauty and Truth’ by John Minshull, this exhibition was a collation of works submitted by 30 Somerset artists following an open call for contributions from the gallery core artists and online directory members.

Curated by gallery manager Kim von Coels (aka artist ‘The Krumble Empire’), the aim of the exhibition was ‘to explore the fundamental building blocks of visual art, both geometric and organic’. The exhibition was open from 3rd December -26th January and I managed to see it twice before lockdown restrictions came into force. A virtual tour (1) is also available here

1. Millie Gleeson: ‘All We’ll Know’

The Painting was displayed in a prominent position on the last wall as you exit the exhibition, directly opposite a canvas featuring an abstract female form in greyscale graphite, and the scale of this canvas (60 x 48 inches) made it really stand out.

I saw Millie’s solo show also entitled ‘All We’ll Know’ at the Red Brick Building in June 2019. She uses reference photographs to help with composition and is heavily influenced by her time in Berlin and Mexico.

Many of her works feature masks painted on the (mostly nude) female subjects, so what I found fascinating about this piece was that the face was illuminated and prominent and she is swathed in billowing robes.

I contacted the artist for more information on the context and process of the painting.

She told me this is a self-portrait, painted from a 'still' of the artist performing in a music video her friends (the Hics) produced, also called "All We'll Know"( 2 )

Gleeson started began painting this in 2014, but it was put into storage until she revisited to complete it in 2019.

She commented ‘it was a huge time of transformation and the end of an era and perhaps I had to return to the painting when I felt I'd fully transformed.’

The Painting has lots of movement, which is representative of the video it is sourced from, the performers are in an industrial setting and are either submerged under water, or as captured in this image, rising up and breaking free. The robes are flowing and there is a sense of movement in the arms and legs. Her website (3) describes how the work was developed as part of a series developed during an Artist Residency at Arquetopia in Mexico.“The residency applied Levanasian ethics to the artistic process, teaching to respect the integrity of differences and question the desire for totalisation. Questioning whether you can truly know the other and if you only know the self, how can you respect the space between?” “Any creative project I have embarked on at the core has revolved around the topic of identity or identification. Following the residency lectures my project became entirely introspective, leading me on a journey of self-discovery. I began to look at my own shadow, distortions, fractions, mirror images, deep and dark aspects of myself. Using the vibrant colours that surrounded me I began to explore my own conflicts and duality through a series of self-portraits, in an exploration to “All we’ll know.”I really resonated with this piece as it reminded me of the Salvador Dali painting ' Christ of St John of the Cross’ I saw at the Glasgow Kelvingrove museum. Light comes from above and the arms are widely placed. The pale blue colour palette and rich drapery in the dress against the dark background is similar to that shown in ‘The Countess of Southampton’ ( 4) (Anthony Van Dyck 1599-1641), seen at the Cambridge Fitzwilliam museum.

Ruary is an Edinburgh-born artist who has lived and worked all over the world and is a gallery core artist working in an attic studio above.

He is inspired by nature and psychedelic culture (6) and another of his works ‘Sacred Chaos’ was chosen as the exhibition feature image.

I interviewed the artist to learn more about the context and process behind these works. Ruary explained that “Trap Dance was a process-oriented piece, created as an experiment using masking tape to create random abstract geometric forms”.

The piece depicts two females and a male dancing, with Cubist and Italian futurists-influenced segmentation and distortion of the figures. The artist noted that the title ‘Trap Dance’ is a pun, as the two female figures appear to be being pressed together by the male dancer (Allen quipped it should have been called ‘Tape Dance’). The experimental process with repeated randomly placed masking tape and paint until the forms emerged, resulted in an abstract image.

The artist saw the forms of the dancers appearing and added them at late stages of development. It is more narrative in comparison with the cover piece ‘Sacred Chaos’; which was another process oriented, straight-edged construction using platonic forms, mathematical constructions, intersecting circles and combining them to make a striking abstract image. The artist has a lifelong interest in Alchemy in art and alchemical symbolism, and this is evident in the works presented here (7).

The colour palette is cooler at top and has more vibrant and darker tones at bottom, with a spotlight in the top left corner, which the artist suggests is reminiscent of a stage or nightclub scene. There is lots of movement as the figures are interweaved amongst the abstract shapes.  

This painting is hung in a long narrow corridoor directly opposite the toilets (another ‘trap’ reference?) and adjacent to the exit door to the garden space. The works surrounding the piece are smaller in scale and have less visual impact, and I think that having to stand so close to it makes it more of an experience as the viewer is drawn into the movement and abstract forms on the canvas. There is no opportunity to stand back and see the work in a wider context so one is trapped like the dancers in the image.

3. ‘Lost Toys’ by Julie Ackerman .

This is an installation assemblage sculpture piece selected from a collection of 10 museum themed boxes. (8). The work is inspired by the ‘cabinets of curiosities’ or ‘Wunderkammer’ (as described by Anastasiya Gutnic from the Metropolitan museum of art here with an example from the German artist Nicolaus I Kolb) (9).

The cabinet is displayed with a second piece called and ‘Science Lab’ and both are relatively small in scale requiring the viewer to lean in close to see the details.

Key elements of a Wunderkammer are:

·       Naturalia (natural, found objects),

·       Artificialia/Artifacta (mand-made, abstract objects), and

·       Scientifica (scientific instruments and technological items)

The cabinet contents are carefully considered to reflect the message that the artist is trying to express, and fits the categories described above.

I chose this piece as the lockdown period has made many of us question what is important to us and question our consumerism and its’ environmental impact.Using upcycled packaging and materials has been a theme of my own creative practice this year.

The artist states on her biography (8)

“I was compelled to take on the challenge of using unwanted objects and materials as an art medium. Raising awareness of a world in crisis through art is paramount in my work. By transforming waste into beautiful works of art, I hope to inspire and encourage the 'Art of Recycling' turning a negative situation into a positive one.”

The artist goes on to state “The impact of overpopulation means greater demand on natural resources and an escalating waste problem. We need nature to thrive by reducing our demand for new materials, leaving nature intact.”

In the ‘Lost Toys’ cabinet a collection of sticks and a pine-cone (Naturalia) are surrounded by a plastic ‘monster’ (Artificialia) and assorted toy animals. A green butterfly rests on a branch with a wooden ’tribal style’ peg and a ‘protective’ dragon flying overhead and a lurking toy hairbrush in the background.

The second cabinet has scientific paraphernalia (Scientifica) and a skull with glasses, references to the impact of sanitary waste and plastic pollution on marine life. There are also humorous touches, like the small creature and drawing pin on top of the skull.

This fits with the exhibition theme as it invites the viewer to examine how the items relate to each other and to our own experiences. Viewers will respond to the individual elements and interpret their relationships differently.

The placing of the cabinets in a transition space between two rooms containing large paintings is also an interesting variation in form and requires a different type of interaction by the viewer.

Summary

The aim of the exhibition was to explore the fundamental building blocks of visual art, both geometric and organic, and the curator has selected a broad range of 2D, and 3D exhibits to really allow this theme to be represented. I found it quite difficult to select only three works for this essay as there was such a high quality to choose from.

These three selected artists have interpreted the theme in quite different ways, but one gets a sense of shape and form from all of their works shown.

References  

1.       Shape and Form Exhibition Virtual tour: https://www.infohost360.com/heart12/

2.       Millie Gleeson – The Hics reference video "All We'll Know" https://youtu.be/RB2MweTwfQY.

3.       Millie Gleeson website: https://milliegleeson.co.uk/all-well-know

4.       Van Dyck Image reference found in Fitzwilliam Museum Cambridge guide, p37. 2016 ISBN: 978-0-9574434-9-5

5.       Image sourced from https://artuk.org/discover/artworks/rachel-de-ruvigny-countess-of-southampton-as-fortune-5613

6.       Ruary Allen Artist Bio:  https://heartofthetribe.com/portfolio_page/ruary-allan/

7.       Ruary Allen Artist website:  https://artalchemist.com/

8.       Julie Ackerman Artist Bio: https://heartofthetribe.com/artist-directory-view-by-artist/user/77/

9.       Cabinet of Curiosities reference video: https://youtu.be/j6q10euArks Nicolaus I Kolb (German, 1582–1621). Apothecary Cart, 1617–18. Veneer: ebonized pearwood (Pyrus communis), ebony, partially gilded silver; carcass: conifer; interior: protective quilted cushion covered in red silk, drawers and chest lined with red silk velvet; gold, trimming; mounts and fittings: brass, partially gilded; thirty-two (32) vessels and utensils: glass, partially gilded silver, low carbon steel, leather, 11 x 11 x 9 1/16 in. (28 x 28 x 23 cm). The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, Purchase, Anna-Maria, and Stephen Kellen Acquisitions Fund, 2019 (2019.229.1a–c–.32a, b)

10.  Cabinet of Curiosities reference description: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cabinet_of_curiosities

11.   Dr. Beth Harris and Dr. Steven Zucker, "How to do visual (formal) analysis," in Smarthistory, September 18, 2017, accessed January 28, 2021, https://smarthistory.org/visual-analysis/.

[thiswasinevitableid]

#7? NSFW? Sternclay? Pretty please 🙇‍♀️

7: It’s our one year anniversary fuck how does one celebrate an anniversary of rivalry and one-sided devotion?

Joseph Stern, alias Agent M, has accomplished what no other member of the National Hero Control Task Force has been able to: he has captured a member of the elusive Pine Guard.

The guard has been causing chaos for the better part of two years, bringing important projects such as oil pipeline development, ICE facilities, and start-up construction to catastrophic halts. 

Stern isn’t invested in those projects, but he believes in the greater good, in law and order. 

One member of the guard in particular has caught and held his attention since he first laid eyes on him. Bigfoot, or so he’s called, has eluded most of their security tapes in a way his compatriots haven’t, and has been reported as more than once saving civilians and bystanders from danger.

He also once stayed behind to ensure Stern stayed conscious after sustaining a head injury. Stern has never been able to get an explanation as to why. But after that day, puzzling out Bigfoot’s motives, his past, his personality has become Sterns true goal. 

Convenient, then, that the man is currently strapped, standing up, to a holding table in his base.

“I knew word of those files would get your attention.”  He stands toe to toe with Bigfoot, who growls but says nothing.

“There’s no call for that. Besides, even if you’d managed to infiltrate here without alerting me, there wouldn’t have been anything to steal. All the information on the identity of the pine guard members is up here. I haven’t shared it with my superiors yet.” He taps his head.

“So, you’re bluffing.”

“Not at all. Barclay.” 

Dark brown eyes go wide with concern. 

“Okay, so you got me. That doesn’t mean you got the rest of us.”

Stern sighs, counts off on his fingers, “Mothman is Indrid Cold, Jackalope is Aubrey Little, Cactus Cat is Dani Coolice, Champ is Duck Newton, Hodag is Ned Chicane, Jersey Devil is Arlo Thacker, and Echidna is Madeline Cobb.”

Barclay sags in his restraints. 

“What do I have to do to keep them safe?”

“Nothing. You’re eco-terrorists, Barclay. Even if I wanted to I can’t keep the information I gained secret from my superiors.”

“You could. Like, literally. Just don’t tell them.”

“I can’t do that. I’m sorry.” The apology doesn’t come out as hollow as he needs it to, and Barclay arches an eyebrow.

“Ahem, anyway, you won’t be needing this anymore.” He lifts off Barclays blue mask (one that compliments his coppery beard), not surprised at all by the face underneath yet delighted at seeing it. He’s thought it handsome since the first time he laid eyes on it

The spell is broken by Barclay biting his hand. He yelps, dropping the mask on the floor. 

“That wasn’t necessary.”

“Neither was unmasking me. Jesus, you never struck me as some gloaty douche  but obviously I was wrong.”

That stings, and so Stern turns on his heel with a flourish. 

“Careful, or I won’t share dinner with you.”

“Oh no, no gruel or power bars or whatever you joyless fucks eat for me--do you smell saffron?”

“Yes.” Stern wheels out the small cart, covered platter glistening atop it and a vase that’s too small for the bouquet sitting in it trying valiantly not to tip over. “I made us saffron rice with lamb, and red wine dark chocolate cupcakes.” He removes the cover, feeling rather smug.

“Shit that looks good.” Barclay whispers, licking his lips. Then he looks up, “Wait, made us?”

Oh lord, the confusion on Barclay’s face sends pangs through his chest. What he wouldn’t give to kiss it away. 

“I, well, it has been exactly a year since we met. And I was trying to think of ways to mark the date, and I know you like cooking and food and so this seemed like a good gift.”

“...Did you make us a fucking anniversary dinner?”

“Technically? Yes.”

“Alright, Mister special agent, how am I supposed to eat it when I’m strapped to a fucking table?”

“I could, um, feed it to you? I shut off the cameras in this room so that I could do so without embarrassing either of us.”

“This what you do every Friday, strap random guys down and feed them? Sounds pretty kinky.” Barclay smirks. 

“I enjoy being helpful, something a so-called ‘hero’ should understand. And I didn’t choose a random guy; I strapped you, specifically, down.”

Barclay fixes him with an amused look before shrugging as much as his bonds allow, “Fine, you clearly worked hard on dinner. May as well make the most of it.”

Stern slices a chunk of lamb, offers it to Barclay who parts his lips without hesitation.

“Holy shit, that’s good.” The blissed out look on his face is one of Sterns favorite views in the world. He hates having to pretend like he hasn’t seen it before. 

As he cuts another piece Barclay asks, “You make the bouquet too?”

“Yes. I took some classes on flower language and  arranging a few years back, and I like doing it.”

Another bite, and this Barclay sighs happily before cocking his head, “You just not gonna eat?”

“Guests eat first.”

“I’m a hostage, agent, not a guest.”

“My point stands.”

“Y’know, if you just undid my hands, we could eat at the same time. Make it a real anniversary dinner instead of some repressed man in black feeding me my last meal as a free man.”

“I’m not just any man in black, I’m your main rival. You said so yourself, once. And the answer is no to the unlocking.”

“Well, there goes that option.” 

Stern sees him tug the strings of his woven bracelet a moment too late. He braces for an explosion or a weapon flying at him. 

Instead, reality warps for a nanosecond, and then Barclay isn’t in front of him anymore. Staring down at him is what he can only describe as a Bigfoot. And honest to god, fur-covered, claw-handed Bigfoot.

A Bigfoot that is no longer restrained. 

“You’re, you’re really-”

“Yep.” Barclay lunges, but instead of grabbing Stern he reaches for the cutlery, tossing it up and over the rooms computer center and far out of range.

Then he grabs Stern by the back of his neck, slamming him against the restraint table. Stern retaliates, jumping up and landing his feet against Barclay’s chest. There’s an “oof” but nothing else. Stern tries to catch him with his stunner, but Barclay avoids him easily, twisting his hands behind his back and letting go as he launches Stern into the window. Mercifully it's made of bullet-proof, triple strength glass, so he doesn’t plummet fifty stories to his death.

He’s simply pinned by his nemesis, the city lights thousands of eyes watching his defeat.

“Are you, ow, all monsters?”

“Nope, just some of us. And you’ve put me in a real bad situation, agent.” Barclay growls in his ear, “first by blabbing that you, and only you really did know our secret identities, and then leaving me no choice but to take off my disguise.”

“I, I’m sorry your poor problem solving skills caused you to reveal that Bigfoot is not merely a codenameOW.” Barclays claws pierce his suit, “Go ahead and kill me. I won’t give up any information to the Pine Guard. I’m prepared to die in the service of my agency.”

“You sure about that?”

“Yes.” He lies

“Nothing you’d miss?”

“No.” 

A rumbling purr in his ear this time, “Not even me?”

“N-no, what, where on earth would you get that idea?”

“Flowers gave you away. Red carnations are admiration, daffodils mean unrequited love, and orange roses are fascination.” 

“That’s a coincidence.” He grits his teeth to prevent the truth spilling out. 

“Not for a guy who admitted he knew their meanings. And you know what else?” He clips Stern’s hands behind his back in cuffs designed to hold the super-strength of Duck Newton, making escape impossible for Sterns normal-human abilities “you put some wild grasses in their to fill the whole thing out.”

“So?”

“Grass means submission. You put all your feelings for me in a vase and gave me plenty of time to take them in, probably thinking it a clever in-joke to yourself. But that one? I’m betting that one was accidental, subconscious. You want to submit. Whether that’s in general or to me I have no clue.”

“Just you.” He may as well confess it. One less secret to carry to his grave.

A low, dangerous chuckle fills the room as he’s spun away from the window and shoved to his knees.

“That what you want, agent?” Barclay replaces the bracelet, becoming human before his eyes, “Want to be a good boy for me?”

He nods, cheeks hot and gaze locked on the floor until Barclay yanks it up by his hair, tearing strands loose from their carefully gelled hold. 

“Aw now, no need for that.” Barclay traces the path of the blush with his thumb, voice mockingly sweet, “know your overlords like everyone to be emotionless, but there’s nothing wrong with wanting a good fuck, even if half the city can probably see it from here.”

“Oh lord.” He moans, the image sending his thoughts, his dignity, his blood, south.

Another laugh, his head yanked sideways to take in the view, “Damn, you like that too, huh? Like the idea of everyone watching while one of America’s finest begs me to fuck his face. Your superiors finding out their best agent is so needy he’d do anything for me to touch him?”

The tears pricking his eyes are from want, not shame, when he chokes out, “yes.”

Barclay turns his head forward, then up. 

“Please, Barclay,  please.”

“Please fuck you?”

“Yes.” He whimpers.

“Nope. Sorry, agent, I don’t sleep with the enemy, even if he gives me the worlds bluest puppy dog eyes. Not to mention, threatening the people I love is the opposite of being a good boy. But since it’s our anniversary, I think you do owe me a gift.” His fingers touch the edge of Sterns mask, “let’s see who’s been tracking me for a year.”

“Wait, don’t-” The mask tears off. The two men stare at each other, frozen, one in surprise and the other in fear.

“Joseph?” 

“Hello.” He wants to look away, to see literally anything other than the betrayal on Barclay’s face.

“I, uh, I imagine this will lose me the title of ‘favorite customer’ at the Coffee Lodge.”

“You, you’ve been spying on us. You’ve been at the Lodge almost every fucking day since June, and you’re Agent fucking M, I, I can’t-” Barclay paces, fingers running through his hair, “Did you start coming just to stake us out?”

“Yes. I tracked your movements, Barclay. I’m ashamed to say I accessed the medical records of anyone in the target area who had top surgery to narrow down my suspects, and eventually identified you as Bigfoot. Once I started getting coffee at the lodge everyday it was easy to piece together who else was on the team.”

“Yeah, and flirting with me probably helped a lot.”

“Uhhhhhhhhm.” 

“Oh, come on, don’t try to pretend that wasn’t part of your investigation.”

“It isn’t. Wasn’t.”  He lowers his head meekly. 

Barclay stops moving, sighs heavily, “Is there anywhere in this damn place that’s smaller and doesn’t have cameras?”

“My bedroom only has one. Just take down the smoke detector on the right hand side as soon as we go in.”

Barclay easily lifts him over his shoulder and trudges down the hall and into the bedroom. Rips the “smoke detector” from the wall, sparks crackling when he does. Then he deposits Stern on the bed and turns his desk chair to face it. 

“We’ve got about forty-five minutes before my ride gets here. Talk.” Barclay sits down, crosses his arms while Stern attempts to sit up straight.”

“Wait, how can you know that.”

A mild smile, “You really think I’d walk into such an obvious trap without an escape plan?”

“No.” He mutters, dejected, “what do you want me to say, Barclay?”

“The truth, genius.”

“You seem to know most of it already.”

“Yeah, but one big piece is missing; why the hell didn’t you write down our identities somewhere the higher ups could find them if something happened to you? Shit, why not just sic a bunch of agents on us when we were all at the lodge making, or drinking, coffee?”

“I...I don’t know.”

“Bullshit.”

“Because the lodge was my haven too, alright?” Stern snaps, “I felt understood there, safer than I did in any secret base. And every time Dani laughed at something Aubrey did, or Duck told some corny joke, or you smiled at me, I understood more and more why you all do what you do. I felt my commitment to my work waning. I had to do something to reiterate my belief in it. This was that something.”

Barclay is silent for a moment, taking Stern in bit by bit.

“You want to leave the NHCTF, don’t you?” He leans forward in quiet shock. 

Stern nods, defeated, “I’ve been questioning our methods for some time, but always thought that what we did was in the service of keeping people safe. I’m still not fully convinced the Pine Guard is going about it the best way, but from what I’ve seen, you do a far better job of it than we do.”

“So join us. Help us figure out how to be even better.” Barclay reaches for him, takes his hand.

“You’d ask me to just like that?”

“Most of us like you, Joseph. We’re not super into Agent M, but it’s not like we haven’t noticed you’re not chasing us down as much as you used to. Also, I’d be a really crappy superhero if I didn’t at least try to recruit the smartest man I know to our side.”

Stern blushes more than necessary at the compliment. 

“Okay. I’m in. I’m ready to try being a different kind of good guy.”

“Welcome to the Pine Guard.” Barclay presses the secret hinges on the cuffs, and they drop to the floor. 

A fit of giggles in Sterns throat pours out into the space between them, “Jesus, I didn’t think betraying the government would feel so liberating.”

“Always knew you were a good guy, deep down.”

Another blush has him cursing his capillaries. 

“Heh, you do like it when I call you good.”

“Yes. Though as you observed, I have a weakness for humiliation as well.”

“Y’know, we’ve got a little bit of time still.” Barclay leans back, and Stern perks up when his hands hit his belt.

“And it is our anniversary.” Stern sinks to the floor, covers a few inches on his knees to rests his head on Barclays thigh.

“Shit, you really are a needy little thing.” Barclay shifts and wiggles awkwardly in order to get his close low enough to give Stern the access he needs. Stern nuzzles his inner thigh, skates his hands along muscular legs, making a mental note to discover what they feel like naked and tensing in time with their owners moans. 

“You’re rather, uhm, slick already. Is this where you tell me you got into heroics because you get off on fighting?”

“Nope, just on manhandling you. And you’re in no position to comment, agent.” The growl he puts into that last word has Stern melting forward. Which is helpful, in that Barclay shoves him down the rest of the way. He licks and sucks eagerly at him, moaning messily when Barclay tilts his hips up, pressing and rutting against him. 

“Like I, fuck, said babe, you’ve got no room to feel smuggAH--shit that felt good--amazed I didn’t walk in on you in the lodge bathroom with some dudes dick down your throat while another one fucked that tight ass.”

Stern would like to point out that a) he would never do such a thing in a business he respected and b) there’s only been one dick he’s wanted anywhere near him in months. But he doesn’t dare pull away. Instead he whimpers, shakes his head and takes all of Barclay’s cock into his mouth.

“Hnnnshit, maybe I got it wrong, maybe you, fuck, were one smile away from falling to you knees and begging me to fuck you over the counter.” 

Stern nods emphatically, pawing at any exposed skin he can find on Barclay stomach and hips,  and the larger man laughs.

“Fuck, much as I wanna hold you down and come all over that handsome face, got something else I wanna do even more.” He lets go of Sterns head, nudges him back so he can join him on the floor. 

“Wha-ohshit’ He gasps when Barclay rips the front of his pants off, wrapping one large hand around his cock. But when Stern tries to thrust up into the warm, tight fist, Barclay pins his hips down with one hand. There’s such easy strength in the movements that Stern tilts his head back to rest on the spotless bedspread, because baring his throat feels like the only suitable response. 

Teeth just sharper than they ought to be sink into the base of his neck, but even as he arches and thrashes in response, he can’t get any stimulation on his cock. Coarse coppery hair tickles his skin as Barclay laughs, “Cute how you think that’s enough begging to get what you want.”

“Barclay, please, I, I’ve wanted this for months, it’s all I want, I will do anything.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Poor special agent, so desperate.” Barclay’s tone is cruel as he drags his hand up in one long, slow stroke. Stern eagerly awaits a downstroke that doesn’t come. 

“Well? Gimme one good reason to indulge my pathetic new plaything.”

“I, I, I’ll be good, so good for you, let you do whatever you want, fuck.” The barest movement of Barclays hand and he sobs, “please, I just want to be good, I just want you to use me, god, please just tell me what you want.” 

“Admit you’re a needy fucker who likes the fact the other cameras in this building can probably hear him begging me to-”

“I am, I need you so badly, I need this, I want you so much, I need youOHyes, yes.” He groans happily as Barclay switches to rapid strokes and drags one of Sterns hands between his legs. He keeps his fingers outside for the time being, focuses on circling his thumb and dragging the other digits in tight patterns.

“C’mon handsome, jack me off, show me how much you like your reward oh fuck, fuck, Joseph, that’s it babe, fuck that’s good.” His head drops to mouth at Stern’s neck with a moan as he grinds against Sterns palm, “shit, shoulda asked you out last week like I was planning to, coulda been doing this every night, yeah, ohyeah.” As he comes his grip on Sterns cock tightens, and even as he rides out his orgasm he’s growling, “come on agent, lemme see you ruin those fancy clothes.”

Stern comes with what sounds, to his ears, like a pathetic cry. Yet as soon as he spills onto his stomach and Barclays hand, the larger man kisses his chest, whispering sweetly, “You’re so good, did so good for me baby, you’re amazing.”

With unsure fingers, he brushes a strand of loose hair from Barclays cheek. Barclay looks up, smiling so tenderly Stern worries he’s dreaming. Then Barclay sits up, cupping his chin and drawing him into a gentle kiss, sighing happily when their lips meet. 

“Is it selfish to be happy that you joining the team means I get to see you everyday?”

“Not in the least. Though you see me most days at the coffee shop anyway.”

“Yeah, but now I get to do this” another kiss, somehow twice as tender as the first, “when I do.”

Stern curls into his arms as he continues, “guess we oughta get you a codename now.”

“You know, I’ve actually given that some thought. Given that only some of you drew your names from cryptids or, um, I suppose your true forms, I think there’s room for a codename that reflects my history with secretive government agencies while staying on theme?”

“I think so too.” Barclay smiles expectantly. 

“In that case,” Stern grins back, future brightening ahead of him for the first time in years, “just call me Roswell.”

[itslula1991]

My Jewel (In Corrections)

Before continuing, I would like to explain why I could not continue with this modest Ahkmenrah fic. I lost my previous account and not only that, I also lost everything on my computer along with what I was writing, so I had to rewrite it and make some reforms in the process. I'm not sure if it's going to be understood because I don't speak English very well. If there is something wrong, I apologize. If someone wants to follow the story closely, I will gladly label whoever wants it again, that there is no doubt in telling me. From Argentina, the south of the world, this girl says thanks for your attention  ❤️

Postscript: I wanted to wait until today to make it special, it's my 28th birthday and as a Christmas gift for you  ❤️

Genre: Adventure, comedy, romance, fantasy

Warnings: None, for now, but much later, yes, yes, yes ;D

Summary

An ancient spell causes a millenary young lady to weaken, it is up to Larry and her friends to help her find the key to return her to normal while an unknown woman, along with three known individuals, and in order to proclaim her "how hers," she try to take over a captive jewel somewhere in Egypt. (The shock of all the chaos in the girl).

Objective? The guard and the exhibits must prevent it from falling into the wrong hands while between Ahkmenrah and the girl, a romance will slowly emerge that will bear fruit over time.

Chapter 1

Egypt 1940

The tents were part of a group of archaeologists who started a very important search dedicated solely to the tracing and possible discovery of a very valuable artifact, a mummy and hopefully also the family of the mentioned one.

The man in charge was 20 years behind the aforementioned, however over time he could never find that desire.

The midday sun rose at a rapid pace while many of them, more than a dozen Egyptians, approximately hundreds of locals worked from sunrise to sunset or excavating with the materials required to find future world heritage sites, which among them It could be the ancient Egyptian tomb. The sites traveled underground were illuminated by a row of spotlights providing light, thus allowing better lighting in random areas before possible treasures waiting to be exposed.

Without further ado, we find ourselves in one of the most famous necropolis, the Giza plateau, following in the footsteps of an archaeologist, an assistant and a local.

"Gentlemen, we are at risk, a storm is coming, my men are terrified! Let's go!”, Ahmed alarmed.

"Peter, we should give up.", said Richard, the aide walking between the dunes.

"Richard, the grave around here, I can feel it."

"Please, Peter, it's been over two months now.", Richard spoke again.

"Richard, I'm not going to stop.", Peter pawned on a whim.

"Dad, dad.", the voice of a child was heard in the distance, walking through the lateral area of the great rock mound, the great pyramid. "I'm hungry, dad, can we rest? And why is there so much wind?”

“Johan, wait in that sector. If you like to taste a bite of your chocolate, do it but I must continue with this.”

"I just want you to recharge. You haven't eaten a bite or slept, Dad.”

“Johan, listen to me. Go there, son.”, the man in question pointed to his left and his young son resigned himself to obey his father.

"Peter!", Richard yelled.

And followed by Richard, Ahmed exclaimed: "Mr. Anderson!"

"What?!"

Returning to the aforementioned, Johan barely walked a few meters from the camp, descending carefully between the golden slopes and abiding by what was established by his father, the young boy unwrapped the candy and tasting the bar of its tasty chocolate, leaned back against a wall. Slowly, small cracks began to be heard first, then important cracks appeared like that until that sector of the slope collapsed. There was never time for a reaction on his part, Johan fell according to his primary pose being a figure that coughed between rocks, dust and cobwebs in the remote darkness.

"Help! Hey! ”, Johan screamed at the top of his lungs without being heard by the amount of movement and noise from outside.

After recovering from that inhospitable moment, he rose from the ground to fend for himself inside the cave. Johan went deeper walking the first few meters until he had no choice but to lie down on the ground through the narrowness of what seemed to be an interior passage and crawl chest to the ground leaving behind the little light that entered through the gap produced by such action.

By turning on his flashlight he was able to more closely detail the end of that chamber, Johan stumbled upon what seemed to be a sacred place, he could see walls covered with hieroglyphs, two rows of 6 gigantic stone sculptures, crumbs of striking corrupted colors and two lackeys who guarded the entrance to the house where their masters remained in eternal sleep.

Inside, in the background and in front, there were three ornate sarcophagi, they were two adults, a pharaoh on the right, his wife on the left of the king and his daughter or perhaps son in the middle, the sarcophagi were made of pure gold and surrounded of splendid riches among other ostentatious objects is what the young adolescent could see once he carefully descended from the low height he traced through the tunnel.

His eyes were still mesmerized by the immense room still painted in a soft and elegant Egyptian blue, from the long wall filled with ancient inscriptions that covered the total of each corner to a recessed jewel that rested in the dark painting on the back wall, the same piece was jealously guarded by Egyptian texts around him, narrating the victories of royalty.

He wanted to speak but was so amazed that only his own breathing could be heard rumbling softly when the silence of the room welcomed him. Stunned to have discovered the enclosure that his father dreamed of finding so much. His happiness was multiplied by two.

With the lack of clarity provided by the rays of the sky god because the clouds overshadowed him for a few minutes, Peter was concerned that his perhaps firstborn was not in sight or anywhere.

He realized when he saw the hole made in the wall that was not there before and asked: “What is that? Where’s Johan?”

To which a tall, tanned man with defined Arabian features, wearing a blue tunic that reached his feet, called Ahmed, yes, the local in charge of indicating where to dig and where not, hesitated to give a concrete answer when the same Father ran to the hollowed out divider plate.

"Johan?!"

Peter traced the same path like this until completing the journey.

"Dad!", Johan shouted in order to let his father know that he was in optimal living conditions.

"Son, are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine!", Johan replied with a smile.

"I'm going in!"

Johan's father entered the priceless ruins by descending a staircase made of reeds, and upon observing his son safe and sound, this anguish ceased taking step by step until he reached him.

"Yes!", that man raised his arms completing his happiness. “I looked for this grave for so many years and you, what did you do? You hit right on it.”

Johan was carried by his father in his arms and the young man gave a happy laugh.

Johan muttered: "Look at all this, Dad."

He turned his gaze to the walls, lighting up the vastness of the delicious and immortalized art carved in all four corners as his father detailed the scriptures loving each part of the discovery itself.

"It is beautiful, just beautiful.", Peter muttered.

"And that jewel.", the boy muttered, pointing his flashlight in the direction of the relic, assuming his father walked there followed by the young man.

They advanced, leaving behind the mound of sand accumulated by too many centuries and scattered by the beginning of the ancient grave until it faintly lost itself on the same ground and once being close enough, that boy tried to touch it but the scream in the distance from Ahmed prevented it.

"Mr. Anderson?!"

Taking advantage of the fact that this place had a worse quality stone construction, the tunnel was not favored as a support, falling on a slope at the time that Ahmed touched the old and venerated terrain. But just as Ahmed entered, another man, an old man also burst onto the scene taking the young Johan's shirt by the lapels and this same subject shook him repeating a series of words frightening him when his father protected him.

"Hey, what's going on with you?!", exclaimed Mr. Anderson, very indignant.

"la! la tlmsha! 'aw sawf tahadath' ashya'an fazieatan!”

"Ahmed, what is he saying? What does it mean?”, asked Mr. Anderson.

"He says no! Do not touch her! Or horrible things will happen.”, Ahmed translated the words while the man continued speaking in Arabic, circumstances that Peter did not understand but having Ahmed close, nothing was impossible to know. “Also that you must get out of here immediately. For if someone desecrates the grave and unless they leave the abode of our ancestors alone, an ancient spell would be unleashed and the end would fall on her.”

"eindaha sawf taqae alnihaya."

"The end would fall on her." Ahmed said, staring at Peter unchangingly.

Johan was stunned when slowly in the dim light of that place, he looked askance at that same valuable golden object inlaid with three gemstones in blue, whose object shone with supernatural dazzle.

Being warned by an old Egyptian prophet, one should not ignore the sayings of who knows what consequences will come about through acts of irreverent desecration.

"From now on, you should know.", that man warned with the little English he used.

Mr. Anderson debunked myths, he wasn't superstitious but…

"And then whoever dares to desecrate the tomb and the queen's most precious possession, an ancient spell would be unleashed on her majesty's imprint and the end would fall on her.", Mr. Anderson translated the hieroglyphs to perfection.

The companions in the expedition of Mr. Anderson looked at each other while the native men of that country waited for one of them to listen. Johan looked at his young father somewhat fearfully but that archaeologist did not believe much even after hearing and reading the same warning.

Mr. Anderson continued: "Bring the trucks."

"Mr. Anderson, there is no time. A storm is very close.”, Ahmed alerted.

"Then hurry up. Come on, everyone work! I want them to load everything.”

Ahmed could be the native but Mr. Anderson's orders were orders and would have to be followed, without further ado, he agreed by muttering something in Arabic and instructed his men in the same mode of communication to correspond to such a task.

The father of the young boy bent on making history, arranged for the treasures to be placed in the vehicles and due to the strong sandstorm that broke out, it was not long until he ordered a second time that the artifacts be loaded into the trucks. as fast as possible since the sunset light announced the few minutes of life that were left to that day, thus obtaining the majority of relics that they could collect from said discovery that surely in the future would be exhibited as invaluable pieces in some important museum.

"Dad, I still think we make a terrible mistake.", Johan shared a possible and traumatic concern.

His father sighed and with a soft smile said: “We don't make mistakes, we make history, son. Let's go Johan.”

The Egyptian relics were still on the way to arrive in the strong sandy blizzard. And even that weird bracelet; How beautiful in itself, however worthy of strangeness, the beautiful piece with refined garments and finishes that a feminine figure used in her time in office in Ancient Egypt, was held by an Egyptian man and placed by himself in a large box of wood, where the jewel was sheltered by a soft wool blanket.

"The end would fall on her."

Ahmed looked at the box, reaffirming that old man's prediction that the worst was coming.

* * * *

Postscript: I'm editing this story because I didn't like how it turned out on the first post. I hope you like the improved version. Excuse me girls: @sherlollydramoine @xmxisxforxmaybe @txmel  ❤️

Girls I hope you don't mind that I tagged you here. I hope you like it: @sunkissedmikky @moon-stars-soul @oldnoname @mrhoemazzello @petites-fantasies @diasimar @yousaycoke-isaycaine @sweet-motherlove​ @boyramimalek​ @riceloversblog​ @sternbergrm​ @rara-rami​ @ramimedley​ @ramisgirl512​ @mrsahkmenrah-malek​

If someone wants to label themselves here, welcome :D ❤️

[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

Busy Earning (Pieces of the People We Love, Part 1.)

Description: Not many people had the chance to see a vault or to mean anything in the world of Pandora. Will a hardly built relationship in the loneliness of the desert would have the potential to change anything in the world of anarchy and chaos - or will the friends try to murder each other?

A/N: If you're not familiar with Borderlands, this series will most probably won't make any sense to you. But that's alright! I am thinking about releasing a small thing called Vault Hunters Vocabulary and I will try to explain the lore and everything used IN the story but not explained in there. Whaddaya say?

A/N 2: Also, I AM MAKING NEW-U STATIONS LEGAL AND YOU CAN'T STOP ME. So I guess this is an AU? ALSO: the Bandits, Psychos, and Fanatics will speak only in the ancient language of Vine!

Warnings: A lot of guns, violence, reader is a tough badass - not a vault hunter tho. They're badass and don't give a fuck. And Scooter is a dumb bitch, as always.

Word count: 4.5 K

Tagging: @notaliteraltoad​

Series master list:  H E R E

It was one of those days when you took a deep breath and it almost burns your whole mucous membrane. Most of the days were like that in this particular part of Pandora, yet some of these days were too much. The desert around you was dry, the rocks were so hot that you'd burn your whole palm if you'd touch it. No plants or water source insight; it was just you, the asphalt road, the heatwave, and the complete silence.

If you wouldn't be aware of sweating like a living fuck and of the fact that your trousers were pretty bloody then, you'd most likely have the suspicion that you most likely just pissed yourself. On the other hand, you also knew that you had to be dressed from your head to your toes - if you wouldn't have every inch of your body covered, the sun would burn your skin down in a matter of minutes; that was how strong the sunlight was. It wasn't the most practical choice to cross the desert in a long coat, long boots, and a huge cowboy hat; it was, in fact, very much impractical, but you really didn't have much of a choice. That big, cowboy-ish hat became your personal trade over time - you were easily recognizable. If someone would've asked you to describe your personality, the hat itself would be one of your personality traits. Ever since you started wearing it, almost everyone was calling you the Cowboy, even if you were pretty sure that you're a woman. Why would you or any of the people you've been living in this hellhole with being obeying any of society's rules if you were leaving at the edge of civilization itself? Something like grammar and other constructs didn't have any value in the world you knew and were living in.

Back to you. You were pissed at the moment; very pissed. For some random reason, the Catch-A-Ride station near your house was off for the last three weeks and anyone cared enough to repair it. You were hunting Skags for a living and believe it or not, having the chance to get a functioning car was making your job very much enjoyable. But because anything could work on Pandora, you had to hunt down two Skags and drag them to the man living in the nearest town, where you had your contract signed.

Every single morning, you had to get up super-early to track some pack down, hunt at least two of these animals, and then drag the dead bodies through the entirety of the desert. That was the pain in your ass. To drag two damn heavy animals in that goddamn weather. Not that you had a chance refuse to hunt for that day - the meat was rotting quickly in this part of the planet and also, Pintley had quite a lot of customers he had to feed - you being one of the said customers. Also, funny enough, there wasn't that much meat on Skags. It was a doubtful business, to say the least.

A sudden, quiet mechanical noise threw you out of the train of your thoughts. It was easy to tell what was the problem since you could feel your right shoulder tensing up. - "Please no, please no." - You mumbled as you felt your right arm getting stuck and letting the bag go. A hiss left your lips as you felt the metal limb giving you a slight electric shock, sending it down your body. You sighed and sat down on one of the dead Skag's body, carefully taking the coat off just enough to reach the small panel, so you wouldn't tear the arm of your body. It took you almost half an hour of sitting there with a small wrench in your hand as you re-organized the small cabled inside as the metal whole arm was made of got hotter and hotter. Just a small moment longer and you'd burn your damn fingers.

In the end, you somehow managed to connect all the cables on the upper arm and attached the small piece of metal back on its spot again, rolling the coat back on your shoulder so it would cool down a bit. You were good to go again, so you took the bags your Skags were put in and walked forward again, dragging the corpses on the road behind you. At least, the buildings of that God abandoned city could be seen in the distance.

Hell's Cauldron. That was the name the locals gave it. The barely-a-town was raided by the bandits so often that they became more of your neighbors and maybe even friends over time. You knew a mentally unstable bandit named Bernie, who sometimes gave you a drive home - a ride from a Psycho was never a good one, but do as they say and don't look on the teeth of a horse that was given to you. You also became friends with Blind Billy, who was a better driver than Bernie and his one-man crew. This psycho was the man who always tried to buy your Skags. But you were persistent against selling them for Eridium.

Just as you thought of your favorite boys, the roar of their car could be heard in the distance as the machine got closer and closer. You smiled when you heard the sounds of their cars; they were very specific sounds breaking the utter silence around. The cars themselves were... Something. It wasn't a model rentable in Catch-A-Ride stations, so their cars were working just right at the moment. Also, this meant that you wouldn't have to the last few miles on foot, which would be simply great.

"Y/N!" - It was Billy's voice that could behear through speakers placed on the back of their car. In the next moment, the machine stopped next to you. You gave him a smirk and a nod through one of the windows. - "Ya still huntin' down those bunnies, ha? Come in, Cowboy girl, we'll give you a ride, whatcha say?" - The man opened up the door and invited you in. You gladly accepted and gave him the first bag containing a dead animal so he'd help you with dragging it inside the back of the car. Blindy threw it on the ground next to two benches before giving you a hand to drag you in as well.

"I guess I do, yeah. You know, Blindy, everybody needs a way to survive. You rob and kill, and I hunt. Everyone's doing great." - With a sigh, you sat on one of the only clean spots on the bench, getting a hold of it as you felt the engine shaking with the entire car.

"TO HELL'S CAULDRON YOU FUCKING DEADBRAIN!" - Billy yelled into the microphone so it could be heard at least miles from you. The car started so abruptly that it almost knocked you to the ground. - "Ya still don't wanna gimme one of those delicious creatures? I'm sick of eating bugs and sometimes people, when necessary, of course." - Billy asked and dragged his hand along one of the Skag's body. You were disgusted to say at least, but you also were careful enough not to display it in your expression. In the end, there was nothing to wonder about - these men were classified psychopaths.

"We've talked about this more than once, Blindy. Pay me the cash and I will give you one. If you don't want to pay for the work... Well..." - You laughed and touched the Jacobs shotgun attached to your back, sending him a clear message. - "Let's say that we've talked about this, shall we?" - "Oh, yea, Cowboy! Do ya get good money from it? I told ya I can pay ya in Eridium." - The psycho smiled and leaned in closer to you. You leaned to him as well, putting your metal palm on his mask.

"Eridium is worth only if I am a siren or if I have someone who deals Eridium to someone else. So... Do I, a), look like an Eridium dealer or do I, b), look like a siren to you?" - Your metal wrist patted the mask, and right after, you leaned away. Billy chuckled at what you've said. Eridium was an extremely valuable material - for some sort of people. If you weren't that sort of person, Eridium were just violet glowy stones in your eyes. Why would you even need that shit in this hole? The most ridiculous thing in this matter was the fact that psychos of Ham's Creek had a ton of Eridium on them; piles, probably. Hyperion jerks excavated many shafts in the proximity of your homes before they left; and while Hyperion guys were gone, the Eridium was still there and ready to get mined. You've heard that the guys from Ham's Creek, the bandit colony, were trading the stones to doubtful people for less than half of its value... But who were you to judge them? You were all doubtful people, you were all doing shady things. Any of you could be considered innocent.

"You may not be a siren, but you're ma muse in everythin' I do, Cowboy." - Blindy chuckled as the car stopped right in front of Hell's Cauldron's pub. There were seven more buildings in the city if you counted the toilette cab...  The least pleasurable place in the proximity of fifty miles radius. - "Don't ever dare to repeat that, dear God. If you do, Imma shoot your ass off, okay?" - Your laughter filled the air as you watched Blindy and Rayray dragging Skags into the local.

"I SMELL LIKE BEEF!" - Rayray yelled and threw the Skag body next to the bar. It was a greeting, a very polite one if you might add. Rayray was still learning how to grasp the rules of being police and sometimes, he really hit the ballpark. With a small smile, you entered the pub as well and nodded at Pintley, the local pub keeper, who shrugged his shoulders. - "You've been making the boys busy again, Cowboy?" - Pintley, an old man with white hair and a missing eye, asked kindly and controlled the Skag. One day, Billy's crew accidentally took out a bag with a dead human body instead of the Skag one and when Pintley wanted to cook his famous Skag goulash, he almost threw up. This time, it was really the dead animal.

"Oh, yea. And I would get the bags to the freezer as soon as possible, it is probably already grilled at this point." - With a grunt, you finally took off the coat as you leaned into and took your enormous hat off to look at Pinty. The man was still looking at the animals, trying to set an amount of cash to pay for this catch. - "That's fifty dollars for each one of them... Maybe even sixty, they're huge. Good call today, Cowboy." - He hummed in the end, opening the cash register and handled you the money. It was not much... But it was something at least.

"Something must be happening out there again, huh?" - It was a quiet, suggestive mumble as you looked at the banknotes in your palm. Pintley asked a silent "What?" because he hadn't heard about anything going on. - "I mean... Marcus Munitions charges for bullets are off the charts since Jack had... You know." - You peeked behind the bar, pointing at a slice of bread. Without you having to pay for it, Pintley gave it to you to chew on it.

To your surprise, Blind Billy nodded at you as he too leaned into the countertop. Even the bandits of Ham Creek could see that something's going on when they were buying their bullets for another raid - it cost almost two hundred dollars more. All of the things you've mentioned happened over five years ago, maybe even more. Handsome Jack, the CEO of Hyperion, was allegedly murdered by Lilith and the Crimson Raiders of Sanctuary. Since then, Hyperion Corporation was filled with social climbers who tried to become the new CEO - but before everything ended, Elpis' lunar station Helios was blown up, meaning that the days of Hyperion ruling over Pandora were over. Not that any of you would particularly care about any of that.

After that, there were some rumors about a new vault key found and about the existence of many new vaults all around Pandora and its sister planets. And as you heard, it was usually a joke, the vault key ended up in a desert where two jackasses found it. That, in fact, led to the creation of a pain in the ass known as 'The Calypso twins' and their cult; the Children of the Vault. Now, allegedly, Crimson Raiders and their leader Lilith had left Pandora and created Sanctuary 3, a spaceship flying on the orbit of Pandora.

Honestly, as far as you cared, all of this could be just a bunch of made-up stories. How the hell were you supposed to know what happened in space or on the other side of the planet? Who were you supposed to be? A fortune-teller? A telepath to know all of these things for certain? There was one sort of people on Pandora about which everyone seemed to forget - normal people. Normal people like you. Yes, people who only tried to live their lives and who owned only one gun existed. People who pursued normal jobs, calm life without all of the vault hunting business.

You've personally never seen the infamous Handsome Jack (only his posters and billboards) or the alleged vault hunters scattering through Pandora, searching for new things to kill and new loot to find. You never have seen Lilith, Roland, or any of the Crimson Raiders with your eyes, nor you've visited Sanctuary, Haven, New Haven, or Helios - and you surely had not visited the Concordia spaceship. You never saw any of those rumors for yourself, thus, you didn't know what was real or fake.

"Look at it like this, Pintley... The Catch-A-Ride stations aren't working in this part of Pandora for God knows how long and now, Marcus is charging up for rounds again? The last time he did that when the last bunch of the vault hunters came to Pandora? I tell you, something's going on." - Now, you rose your eyebrows and stopped everything you were doing. A loud bang blasted through the Hell's Cauldron. There was silence for a moment, but then a loud song started to play. With a long sigh, each of you stood up and grabbed their gun to get ready for a fight. The Children of the Vault decided to pay you a late-afternoon visit.

This, unfortunately, meant a shootout in the middle of the sun-parched square of the Hell's Cauldron just for the laughs. Those guys were just fine most of the time, but on some days, they came to the town and all they wanted to do was fight with guns blazing. By now, you all knew the drill - a short shootout while letting them spawn back in their base and then, you could continue with your daily program.

No matter what you told those jackasses, no matter what you did, no matter anything - they just drove into the sun-parched square and started to shoot. They were idiots without a single functioning brain between them, to say at least. To your good luck, Blindy and Rayray were on your side. These two were pretty reasonable bandits. Billy was also unusually smart for living with psychos, midgets, and more for as long as he did, yet he still kept his brain working.

The shooting which happened in Hell's Cauldron that day was louder than usual. Maybe it was just the way you've been laughing or the COV's new summer playlist, but this one was unusually loud. People were throwing grenades just as they were yelling some nasty words at each other. Some of them dropped dead in a matter of seconds because they were just standing in plain open. A car blew up accidentally, the trunk almost hitting you in your face and the face. When everything was done, there was only you, Rayray, and Pintley standing in the settling dust. You and Pintley were usually a great team - since he had a slag sniper rifle and you had an orange tier Jacobs shotgun, you were good to go any time. The rest of the COVs slowly disappeared - they started spawning at the New-U stations back in their small cultist town fifty miles away from Hell's Cauldron.

But something wasn't right. Blindy was still laying on the ground, bleeding out with a blank stare. His body wasn't moving and there were even small droplets of blood as he coughed before he passed away. This wasn't supposed to happen. As you approached the body, you've been growing through how did you get into the town in the first place. You've driven in our of the eastern exist, which meant you've driven around a checkpoint. That led you to a conclusion that the Hyperion Checkpoint Station, those were all over Pandora, must've written his biometrical data down. Blindy was somewhere inside the database, hidden in the code; but New-U station wasn't, for a reason, reconstructing his physical body.

"What's going on? Why isn't he respawning, Pintley? Don't you tell me that he wasn't registered by the Checkpoint." - Without giving a single fuck about the blood and dust, you kneeled and took off Blindy's mask to look into his scarred, lifeless fave. He wasn't the most handsome lad you've seen, but he had a good heart and that was all you cared about. - "Billy, man, don't you play games with me now. Get the fuck up, man. Come on." - You begged silently. You couldn't lose him because of a routine shootout. You've survived hundreds of these - he was a good bandit, a good friend, and a significantly good gunman.

"I think the New-U is cut out of the electric network, Cowboy." - Pintley yelled at you, while Rayray was opening the database in the Checkpoint station next to the pub. - "We might as well put it back to use. Stop with the nonsense and get to work, come on!"

The New-U stations and Checkpoints were a special thing that Pandora needed to have any population surviving on it. It all started way back when Atlas, Dahl, Hyperion, and many more were supporting the golden era of vault hunting; those hunters got their own Echo devices to stay in touch all the time and in case they'd accidentally die or dismember, the New-U stations were meant to render a new body for them. As soon as you arrived or was born in this sector of the universe, the corporation implanted a chip to the nape of your neck; you wouldn't respawn only in the case someone would be using jammer or took the chip out of your body. There was a whole lot of things that could get you killed - psycho in a bad mood, hungry Skag, angry friend, bad food, accidental fall into a volcano... You could choose, really. Sometimes, it could take a while to respawn, it also cost you some money, and before the transaction was sent... It could be a whole lot at times.

Since there were no laws and anarchy and chaos ruled the planet hand by hand, this system came in handy at all times. The Checkpoint stations were the smaller ones, saving up your data like DNA and memories to have all of your personal information in the systems in case anything happened to you. New-U was able to resurrect a person after paying said charge - they constructed your body from the DNA and cells of your dead body, implanted the memories back into your brain, and even construed the clothes you had on. It was truly a miracle of modern age science - but also a necessity for Pandora and its moon Elpis.

Rayray nodded when he read Billy's name in the database. He was there; he was there, safe and sound. You only had to make the New-U work. Without giving any fuck, you just threw the dead and useless body on the ground, walking to the machine, next to Pintley, to look at the cables leading out of the back of the machine to the charger on the wall.

Luckily, you were quite handy with this sort of stuff. Really, you had to restore the electricity circuits inside your metallic arm; handily, you opened up the machine and started to work on it, searching for the problem. Pintley was kneeling next to you, so you were only telling him what you needed - like a wrench or a hammer - and he fetched it to you. New-U was mostly unused in Hell's Cauldron, so it was really no wonder that it wasn't working; it was out of order for quite some time now. If Blindy wouldn't have died, you wouldn't even notice the malfunctioning machine.

It probably was out of order for the last five years - since the last time Bandits provoked a gunfight was... You couldn't even remember. Maybe, Pintley himself pulled the cables out; you wouldn't let the electricity bill getting bigger if you hadn't need for letting the New-U running, right? The Calypso fanatics couldn't be considered a threat at all. Each of them was dumb and couldn't shoot for shit, so the only ones getting killed were them. Even more so, they usually started to talk about some of their damn fanatic nonsense in the middle of the fight. In the beginning, you listened to those jackshit rambles; then you just murdered them without blinking. It wasn't that easy. Rayray looked at you from the database's screen. Bandits, believe it or not, were sometimes pretty smart. Yes, they had their bright moments. The only thing they couldn't do was to speak like a normal human being.

"THAT HURTS LIKE A BUTTCHEEK ON A STICK!" - Rayray yelled at you and you furrowed - it was too late to stop the respawning process since the machine started barking loudly in front of you as it came back to life. What did he say? Someone else was written down in the system except the normies of Hell's Cauldron? You looked over to the bandit boy, but it was too late to pull the cable; the New-U already started to build a human being. And that person definitely wasn't Billy. You made Pintley step back since he hadn't any gun on him and took out your Jacobs shotgun again, pointing at the stranger. The man, it definitely was a man, was looking at his hands in wonder, opening his palms, closing them right after, playing with his fingers. He slowly pulled an Oz kid used in the vacuum off the back of his head, so he could take some normal, hot breath into his lungs. The breather was old as hell, probably six to seven years to your estimations (given it was an ultra-old Vladof Oz it). Who was that man, you didn't know at all; you just assumed he must've been dead for quite some time.

The Hyperion nice-ass lady was telling him something, but she couldn't quite finish her speech - Billy started rendering right next to the man. You exhaled and thanked God for Billy, but you didn't let the mysterious man go out of your sight - you didn't know who he was, what his intentions were, or if he was a bad guy or not. The only thing you could clearly tell was that the man was super-happy to be alive. "I'm alive! I'm alive! Would ya believe it, man, I'm alive, breathin' and stuff and I'm feelin' just fine!" - The stranger exclaimed and looked over to you. - "Wait... Wait. Man, man, ya not Lilith or Moxxi or one of their vault hunters. Who are ya?" - He tried to come closer to you, for some reason, so you only rose the barrel of the shotgun and watched the small laser light hovering on his forehead.

"Ya not any friendly folks, ha?" - The man asked and laughed your barrel off as if he barely noticed the danger he was in. There was... Something about him. You felt like you knew him from somewhere. That face was basically burned deep into your brain and it was so detailed, that it was freaking you out like shit. Those eyes, sharp lips... But his name was a remaining mystery to you; not for too long, unfortunately. - "Hey, name's Scooter. Ya know me. Most of the folks on Pandora do." - With that, he offered you a palm to shake, and because of that, you took the barrel of your shotgun down from his forehead. Scooter. Scooter. That face, that name... Jesus that man was reminding you of someone and you couldn't just remember who. Eyeing down his clothes covered in old, dry oil (which was clearly powering engines, or some other machinery), you straightened and watched Pintley approach Scooterboy. You exhaled slowly and put the shotgun on your back, shoving it back into the covering.

"Name's Pintley, young man. Come here, I'll give you a cold Dr. Bob and some food." - Pintley patted his shoulder and you carefully watched Scooterboy with a frown. You were inclined to believe him just after he looked like isn't about to kill you, yet it didn't mean you'd be particularly fond of the stranger just yet.

"Scooterboy?" - Your voice was firm and cold as you looked at him. - "Don't you do something with cars? I get the vibe you do, look at your clothes." - It was a short explanation, but it did work. Scooter looked down quickly, raising his eyebrows. Blindy was now standing next to you and he didn't have a clue about what was going on.

"Catch-A-Ride!" - Scooterboy exclaimed with a big smile. Oh dear, you got your mindset straight on who he was. It was like a blast inside your brain. You knew his face from all the commercials you've seen with his face - it was a big thing when he supposedly died on his way to Helios. Ellie, his big sister and the other big mechanic of Pandora, was paying him many respects and missed him dearly. She was mourning for a long time.

"How the fuck are you alive?" - With a frown, you stormed past him and Pintley, entering the pub first. - "This is one wild evening Pintley, I tell you. Give me, Billy and Scooter some cold Dr. Bob and some bread with cheese you have there because I'm about to faint." - You sat at the nearest chair, massaging your own face.

Scooter was alive.