#also bald dust PFFT

[absurdumsid]

If anyone wanna know why Dary's not posting so much lately, here's why:

We are holding them captive in the server's walls Legit no scam There is no windows, no dors, only Dary and their Dust doing circles Fr fr, not joking

yeagh were having fun fr

[giggly-squiggily]

Toy Capsules and Memories (Tokyo Revengers)

Two fics in one day who is she? ~ *sparkles as I flip my hair* A procrastinator~

Heyo! I was hit by a sudden burst of energy and also an onslaught of nostalgia and I am here to present to you all the result of said event! Really- I just wanted to write for Lee!Chifuyu. I hope y’all like it! :D

Summary: Chifuyu and Baji hang out on a lazy afternoon.

CW: Swearing

Cloud 9 (Taglist peeps)

@duckymcdoorknob @myreygn @baby-tickles2022​ @cupcake-spice13​

“Dude, how many times have you read that thing? It’s falling apart.”

Chifuyu hummed from behind his manga, thumbing the bent edges of the book. It was just as Baji said- falling apart. The spine was cracked from how many times he’d stretched it open- a lightning bolt of white crackling down the center. The cover had faded in time- what was once bright colors of the protagonist were now muted and dirty with dust. A corner of the manga was warped from the time he dropped it in the puddle- too caught up in a fight to care. It was Baji who saved it from its watery grave.

It was floppy and faded and the pages were yellowing, but Chifuyu didn’t have the heart to replace it or throw it away. It was special to him.

“What? It’s my first ever owned manga! It’s like an ancient relic!” Chifuyu argued halfheartedly, flipping a page- internally cringing when the paper beneath his thumb nearly tore. Okay. Maybe it was on its last leg.

Baji huffed, flopping down unceremoniously across Chifuyu’s stomach as he tried to get a glace at the name. “NANA? Pfft- of course you’d read something so girly.”

“Says the guy who religiously rewatches Carmen.” That earned him a jab to the belly, making him squirm with a snort.

“Watch it! Don’t you dare disrespect the work of Yuto Natori.” If the threat was real, Chifuyu couldn’t tell.

“Don’t disrespect the work of Ai Yazawa then.” Chifuyu replied, smug when he heard Baji grumble against him about this and that. He sounded tired, and his hair smelled nicer than usual. “Trying a new shampoo?” He asked, running a hand over the soft black locks.

“Eh, mom’s making me use it. Said I can’t keep using bar soap.” He twitched beneath Chifuyu’s fingers, not used to the affection. In retaliation he started tracing random shapes against the fluffier parts of Chifuyu’s hoodie, realigning the fur this way and that.

“B-Bar soap?” The shorter man twitched at the tickly feeling, trying not to move. Whether it was his intention or not, Baji was tickling him. “H-How the hell, d-dude?”

“I don’t know- I just did! I didn’t stink, and it was there.” Baji shrugged, lips twitching upward as he took in how tense the other was becoming beneath him. “She found out and gave me a whole lecture on how bad it was and how I’d go bald before I turn 18. So what if I do? I’ll get a cool tattoo on my head like Draken- maybe a growling dog or something.”

“Thahat sounds stuhuhpid!” Chifuyu giggled out, shooting down a hand and trying to grab Baji’s. “Yoohohu’d look funny!”

“Funny? Aren’t you the one who put that Little Pet thing on your face when we were in middle school? The little cat tattoo?” Baji dodged his hand, moving it to the space between their bodies and continuing to lightly trace against his hoodie. “You ran up to Draken showing it off thinking you were hot shit. I’ll never forget how hard he laughed at you.”

“You hahahhad one tohoohoho!” Chifuyu giggled, opting to shove at Baji’s shoulders now since he was so adamant on tickling him. “It was lihihihittlest pehehehhet shohohohops! Yohooohu alahahhaso had a cahhahahhat!”

“Oh yeah- that’s what those were. Heh, I still have that black cat you gave me.” Baji added another hand, poking lightly into his waist and increasing the giggles. “And don’t lump me in with you stupid- I at least put mine on my arm! No one saw it!”

“Mihihihiihkey dihihiihhid- waiihihit you still hahahahve it?” Chifuyu gasped out between giggle fits, feeling his cheeks pinken. He hadn’t realized Baji was so sentimental.

“Why do you sound so surprised? What- don’t tell me you lost the one I gave you? Oh now you’re gonna get it!” Baji went from light tracing to full on tickles now; clawing lightly at his stomach and making Chifuyu squeak. “Come on, Chifuyu! You can keep a zombified manga alive but you couldn’t keep that cream cat I gave you all those years ago? Shame, shame.”

“Bahahhahahahaji, hohohohoohld ohoohohohon!” Chifuyu squirmed about, twisting this way and that beneath his friend’s relentless fingers. “Hehehhahahhar mehehehehe ohooohuht- ahh nohohoohoho doohohohohn’t! His hands shot down to Baji’s as the other started to wiggle them up beneath his hoodie. “Dohohohohon’t tiihihihickle mehhehehhe thehehehhere!”

“Oh? And why not?” Baji grinned, easily pushing past the guarding hands, drumming his fingers against the warm skin. “Does it tickle too much?”

“Ahehahahahhhahahah! Bahahhahahhahajihihiihihihihi!” Chifuyu all but cackled, arching up with his head thrown back in laughter. With no way to guard, he reached out and grabbed Baji’s wrists, more or less holding them as they drummed a random beat along his skin. “Cohoohohohme ohoohohon, thahhahat’s no faihahahhai-AH Doohohohohon’t piihihihihinch mhiihihihiihi puhuhuuhuhuuhdge!”

“Tch, Chifuyu, we’ve talked about this.” Baji shook his head in mock disappointment, continuing to pinch and press into the softer spots on Chifuyu’s belly, making him squeal and thrash. “Your squish is great! Beyond great really. It makes it that much easier for me to tickle you!” He let one hand move up to the blonde’s ribs while the other shot the hoodie up more, exposing his belly to the world. “Still, if you insist on arguing with me on it…”

“Bahhahahaji, bahahahahji wahahahit doohoohn’t you dahhHAHHAHAHHARE!” Chifuyu all but shrieked as the other blew a raspberry against his belly, his hands dribbling into his sides and adding to the tickles. Chifuyu nearly felt himself go silent with how hard he was laughing, kicking his legs helplessly as he howled in mirth. His face was on fire, and it started to hurt with how hard he was smiling. “BAHAHHAHAHAJI PLEHAHHAHAHAHASE!” He whimpered out as he felt his lungs start to collapse.

“Hehe, okay okay.” Baji sat back up with a wolfish grin, eyes dancing. He gave Chifuyu’s belly a good smack before pulling down his hoodie, cackling at the pinch he earned in retaliation. “God, you sound so funny when you laugh!”

“Shuhuhuuht up…Iihiihi’ll get you back.” Chifuyu groaned, covering his face with his arms. A risky move- given it was Baji, but he felt the other flop down beside him, stretching out his limbs like a cat. 

“Sure you will, ‘Fuyu.” He grinned at him when the other lowered his arms. “You say that all the time yet you’ve never quite done so.”

“Times are changing. Watch out for me.” Chifuyu stuck out his tongue before turning to look around the room. He was sure it was there…

“What are you?” Baji began before watching Chifuyu shoot up, running to the shelf.

“Here it is!” He cried cheerfully, flopping back in the bed as he held out his cupped hands. When he pulled them back…

~~~

“Hey hey, look at this!” Chifuyu called as he and Baji walked home. They had stayed late afterschool for tutoring- Baji was getting better, even at the slow pace he was going.

“What is it?” Said man called out, coming to stand beside Chifuyu as he looked inside the toy dispenser. “Oh, one of those ball machines.”

“No no, look!” Chifuyu pointed excitedly. Within the tiny capsules were little animals. The sign on the machine said ‘Littlest Pet Shops.’ “They have cats! Apparently you get a little figure and a tattoo of the animal. That’s so cute!”

“Cute?” Baji looked closer, not really getting it. “You really do think they’re cute?”

“Erm…yeah.” Chifuyu cleared his throat, the reality of what he probably looked like right now making him twitch. “I guess they’re pretty dumb though. It’s a machine for little kids, right? We don’t need to-”

“Oi, got 100 yen?” Baji tapped the price. Chifuyu felt his heart race.

“Erm…yeah. I do.” He pulled a yen coin, startingt to offer it to Baji. The brunette had already beat him to the punch, dropping in one of his own and giving the machine a twist. Out popped a capsule. With a grin, he tossed it to Chifuyu.

“There.” He nodded. “That’s for tutoring me.”

Chifuyu looked at it, eyes wide. “Wait…for me?”

“That’s what I just said.” Baji rolled his eyes. “Well come on- open it!”

“You first.” Chifuyu walked forward and deposited his own coin. Another capsule was released. He gave it to Baji. “Now we both have one.”

Baji took it gently, laughing to himself. “Well…alright. Ready?”

They opened their capsules to find…

~~~

“Man. You really did keep it.” Baji laughed to himself, eyes soft as he looked at the cream kitten toy in Chifuyu’s hands. Even today, it looked brand new. Nothing like his manga- it looked as if Chifuyu just won it out of the machine earlier that morning.

“Of course I did! How could I ever get rid of it?” Chifuyu smiled at it fondly, nostalgia touching his cheeks and eyes. “It was the first gift you’ve ever given me.”

“It was? Shit…” Baji looked away, hiding his burning face in his hair. “I was such a sap, man.”

“You still are.” Chifuyu laughed, avoiding Baji’s retaliating jab as he returned the cat to its rightful place. “But that’s what I like about you.”

“God, now you’re being sappy! Shut up with all this mush!” Baji ran a hand through his hair to hide his smile, failing miserably. Chifuyu snorted before flopping back into the bed beside him.

“Hey, ‘Fuyu. This is wild but- when we get older. Do you want to run a pet shop together?” Baji suddenly asked, making Chifuyu turn in surprise.

“A petshop? Like- with cats and dogs and hamsters and all that?” He felt himself getting excited at the idea.

“Heh, guess I didn’t need to worry about you hesitating. Yeah- we’ll even get snakes and shit.” Baji then shuddered, growing pale. “But no spiders. I hate spiders.”

“Yeah, definitely.” Chifuyu snickered, raising a hand with wiggling fingers. “Don’t want big bad Baji to pee himself everyday at work~”

“Oh you little shit- Come here!” Tickles returned; Chifuyu cackling helplessly beneath him once more. Eventually his mom would probably come in and tell them to keep it down, but they’d worry about that later.

For now, he was just happy to have Baji by his side.

Thanks for reading!

[doublerumnukacola]

Addictionary

Present, Week 11 in the Wasteland

The Old State House was quiet, as usual. Only the occasional chat between Neighborhood watchmen was heard. It was one of the few things Goodneighbor and Diamond city had in common; their guards spent more time trading gossip than doing their jobs, left a lot of slack for Fahrenheit to pick up.

The air in Hancock’s office was musty and damp, the few sunbeams that filtered through the thick moth-eaten curtains were cluttered with dust motes and drifting smoke. Fahrenheit sat at the desk, holding her cigarette in one hand, and writing notes with the other. Hancock woke up on his couch, listening to the scratching of pen on paper, the long sighs of smoke, and the occasional murmur of something chess related.

He stretched out his sore limbs, hearing the familiar pops and creaks of his joints. He sat up slowly, propping his feet on the ground. His head was already starting to ache, he needed a hit of something. Jet was the obvious solution.

He rummaged around in the couch cushions, there was always a spare canister wedged in there. He struck gold as his finger wrapped around a dusty jet canister. He gave it an experimental puff to clear out anything stuck in the mouthpiece, last thing he needed was to choke on a piece of lint while inhaling brahmin dung fumes. He took a long hit, the chems burning into his lungs, spreading a shock of energy throughout his body.

“Why don't you just drink coffee like the rest of us?” Fahrenheit asked in her usual monotone.

“You kidding? You know how bad caffeine is for you?” He joked, “My Uncle drank coffee everyday since he was ten, dropped dead of a heart attack at twenty.”

“And coffee was what killed him?” She asked, a skeptical smile on her face.

“No, he was sleeping with some married dame in the stands, had a heart attack when her husband came home early. But the coffee didn't help.” She exhaled sharply, which was as close to rip-roaring laughter as he was going to get. She looked down at her notes for a moment.

“A few things happened while you were out, but nothing too noteworthy.” Fahrenheit mused. Hancock leant back and groaned. He hated these long reports he took another hit of jet, which wasn’t smart, it’d only make the lecture seem longer. “A caravan came in for Daisy, a few packages came for Doctor Amari, and piles of super mutant corpses are dotted around Goodneighbor.” Hancock coughed mid-hit as she finished her notes.

“What?!” He spluttered through coughing fits. She looked down at her papers again.

“The Vault dweller, aka the general of the minute men, aka the Silver Shroud, killed no less than eighty-two Super Mutants, judging by the amount of semi-intact corpses.” Hancock rubbed his skull, he could feel the headache starting to come back.

“Any reason why?” He asked, it felt as though there was something he was forgetting but it wasn't quite coming back to him….

“Because you asked.” A voice answered behind him.

“Pawn takes king…” Fahrenheit muttered to herself in amusement. Hancock stood up slowly, doing his best to grin at Sole who was standing in the doorway, looking particularly chipper.

“Right on cue, Sister.” He greeted, but the gaps in his memory were still bugging him. “But catch me up on when exactly I set you up on this little job.” Sole frowned.

“The other night, at the Third Rail when you… Never mind.” She started, but thought better of finishing the story. “Consider it my way of being a good Neighbor.” She winked, before turning to leave.

“Hey, where’re you going, killer?” Hancock called after her.

“Got business with Kleo. Bullets don’t buy themselves.” She called back. He had to smile at that. He heard the State House door shut behind her and turned to face Fahrenheit.

“How long was I out?” He asked seriously.

“Since I found you passed out on this sofa, it's been about a day and a half. Not the longest you've ever been out, but it's up there.” She replied, glancing at her notes again. “Last reports show you leaving the Third Rail, the Vault dweller hanging on you, heading towards the Rexford Hotel, entering the hotel, and you leaving a while after that, alone.” Hancock fought through the fog, trying to remember. He vaguely remembered speaking to Charlie….

“Take a mentat, usually jogs your memory.” Fahrenheit advised. It irked him, but she was right. He popped open the tin, only a few left. He dumped the contents into his mouth, crunching the mints into a peppermint paste. He could feel the fog instantly clear. It came back to him in a flash.

“Oh shit I did ask her to do that.” He grumbled, “Why did I think that was a good idea?” She checked her notes again.

“We discussed the growing Super Mutant problem three days ago.” Fahrenheit explained. “I suggested a perimeter of plasma mines to deter them, but you made the point that it would also deter caravans and drifters coming in. Your solution was to send someone to take out the closer nests, without getting attention from the larger ones. In addition, we both noted that some were necessary to keep the raider population distracted.”

“I don't remember that last part…” Hancock cut in. Fahrenheit looked up from her papers.

“As we were discussing this, I noted that you’d had two tins of mentats. You were ‘delightfully rational’. That’s a quote.” Hancock shuddered. Two tins was a lot, even for him. He'd have to take it easy.

“Fine, and I guess we decided to send in our personal atom-bomb as a solution?” He hazarded a guess. She shook her head.

“You just said you would take care of it. Next thing I hear is that everything within a miles radius of Goodneighbor has been shot, blown to pieces, or in one instance permanently spasming in in a pile of garbage.” Hancock gave her a confused look. She looked down at her notes.

“Yeah, says right here: ‘permanently spasming in a pile of garbage’. She shrugged her shoulders. Hancock adjusted his hat, pulling it further up his brow.

“Well, gives the Raiders something to… She killed them too. Didn't she?” Hancock asked tiredly. She nodded.

“There's good news, though.” She added. “The lack of threats was what brought in the ‘packages’ to Doctor Amari. Got a lot of positive attention from our friends on the freedom trail. The bald one in sunglasses has been snooping around more than usual. I suppose he likes to think that drifter outfit is fooling someone.” She smirked.

Hancock groaned, that guy really got under what was left of his skin. Something about all the cloak and dagger routine really clashed with his way of doing shit. He needed another tin of mentats, he could already feel the haze returning. He reached into the cushions again hoping he’d be lucky a second time.

Fahrenheit frowned, it seemed too soon for his high to be wavering. He successfully fished out a bent tin of Mentats, popping it open and topping up his high. She knew if she attacked directly he’d shut her out.

“Hancock...” She started, but he knew that voice. He shot her a look. She cleared her throat, trying to adjust her tone. “Have you ever considered a fresh start?”

“Pardon?” Hancock asked in surprise, expecting one of her lengthy lectures.

“A clean slate. Starting over.” Fahrenheit reiterated. “Have you given it some thought?” Hancock crossed his arms, studying her expression. Nothing was straight forward with Fahrenheit, and there was a point to this. But he took the bait anyway. “Sure, the idea’s appealing. Get out on the open road again, bring the fight to someone else for a change, rather than wait for it to bang on my front door.” He answered with a shrug. “But a town needs its Mayor, otherwise the shit show falls in on itself.” Fahrenheit gave a soft snort.

“I’ve grown up here, Hancock.” She countered. “Until Vic came in and took over, the place did fine running itself. A figurehead Mayor would run it just as well as a real one.” Hancock looked away.

Nobody understood Goodneighbor like Fahrenheit. She’d never travelled far from it, knew every inch of it, every soul that passed through its gates. He’d watched her grow up on his visits from Diamond City, back when he still had a nose. So if she said it could live without him, he believed her.

“What brought this on?” He asked. “Getting a bit too cosy behind that desk?”

“You’ve been distracted from the second you met the Vault dweller.” Fahrenheit replied bluntly.

“Pfft, ‘the second’ I saw her?” He questioned skeptically. “How do you figure?” She flipped back through a stack of notes and pulled out a sheet of paper.

“You stabbed Finn.”

“He had it coming.”

“Then you introduced her to Goodneighbor.”

“Obviously, introductions always come off friendlier after cold-blooded murder.”

“After she walked away, you stepped into a lamp post.”

“Bullshit.”

“Says right here in my notes, ‘stepped into a lamp post’ followed by ‘Threats to all witnesses.”

“Tell me Sunglasses wasn’t there…”

“I could tell you that, but I would be lying.”

Hancock sighed. It was true, if it weren’t for Fahrenheit and Sole, he’d be out on his ass right now, probably with a few more bullet holes than he was comfortable with.

“Say I went along with this.” He started. “Where would I go?”

“Where ever the Vault-dweller takes you, i’d imagine.” She guessed, rearranging her notes. “Now that she’s back to business as usual, she won’t be staying much longer.” Hancock thought for a moment.

“You seem to have this all planned out…” He observed.

“It’s my job.” She replied, grinding out her cigarette. She looked away for a moment. “There is one condition, though.” He knew it was coming and it still pissed him off.

“Cut the bullshit and tell me.” He snapped, rubbing his forehead in annoyance. He popped a few more mentats, it cleared up the pain a little.

“See Amari about what we discussed…” She started hesitantly. “About the fixer-”

“Really, all that for another lecture on chems?” He asked, anger starting to boil off of him.

“You need it this time.” She insisted. “You can’t go five minutes without taking something. How do you plan on surviving in the wastes if you keep looking for a fix?” He was silent. He had a problem. The words were on her lips, but she knew better than to say it. The cliché was too much.

“You don’t have to go clean completely. You just need to get to a point where you can use chems again, rather than them using you.” He groaned, she was right. How was she this good without a pick-me-up?

“You got me.” He conceded. “But you sure you guys will be fine without me? I don’t want to come back to a smoking crater.”

“Unlikely,” She mused. “The Vault dweller hauled in enough guns and armour this morning to weaponize every drifter and Watchmen for a year. Kleo is still leaking lubricant over the hoard.” Something clicked. Sole and Kleo…? He fought through the haze.

“Hold it…” Hancock cut in. “If she's already shown Kleo a good time today, why did she say she was going there just now?” Fahrenheit shrugged.

“I suppose she lied.” Fahrenheit hazarded a guess. Hancock’s head was working overtime. Why would she lie…? Shit, Daisy….

“Where did that caravan blow in from?” Hancock asked frantically. Fahrenheit looked down at her notes, then frowned.

“Some place called…” She squinted at the writing. “The Republic of… Dave? It's somewhere in the-”

“Capital Wasteland.” Hancock finished for her, already flying down the stairs.

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

“-Sorry, sugar, I haven't seen head or tails of him since he left weeks back.” Daisy apologised.

“Are you sure he hasn't… hasn't even sent a letter?” Sole pressed, her voice lowered to just a hoarse whisper. Daisy shook her head, a sad look in her eyes… A sad and guilty look.

Hancock watched from the doorway, caught between wanting to give Sole space, and wanting to investigate what Daisy was hiding for himself. He compromised, knocking on the doorway to announce his presence. The two women looked up, Sole pausing to clear her throat and wipe the corners of her eyes. Funny, this was the same woman who left at least eighty-two Super Mutants dismembered at his doorstep.

“Hate to Interrupt, but word on the street is there there’s going to be a pretty groovy shindig at the Third Rail tonight, thought I’d extend an invitation to a few lovely ladies.” Hancock grinned, strolling into Daisy’s store.

“What are you doing here then? Kleo’s next door.” Sole joked, clearing her throat to mend the cracks in her voice.

“Kleo’s no good at parties that don’t involve target practice.” Hancock started to explain.

“So what’s the occasion?” Sole asked, a little curious. “Isn't everyday with you a party?”

“Flattering, but this one’s special. It's a farewell party.” He explained. Sole opened her mouth to ask more, but Hancock gave a wave of his hand. “Working out party details with Fahrenheit, but I’ll be back to see you later, Daisy. To sort out some, ‘party supplies’.” He finished, eyeing Daisy, who refused to meet his gaze. With that he turned and strode off, head already starting to fog up. He was going to need to be at the top of his game tonight.

[eye-burn-neon]

Well, Well, Well; Who do we have here?

Caution: RWBY Vol. 3 and Grimm Eclipse Spoilers

I’m re-watching the entire RWBY series; I just finished PvP, and I want to draw your attention to this figure right here:

This guy’s head appears directly after Penny’s eyes go dark, from 5:35 to 5:41 in the episode's video on Rooster Teeth’s YT channel. Here’s the six seconds I’m going to analyze and then rant about:

<iframe src='//gifs.com/embed/dr-merlot-s-first-appearance-in-rwby-pgxE7m' frameborder='0' scrolling='no' width='640px' height='360px' style='-webkit-backface-visibility: hidden;-webkit-transform: scale(1);' ></iframe>

This guy reminded me of someone in particular – Dr. Merlot. Now for any fans who haven’t played/seen/heard of Grimm Eclipse – y'all are missing out, BTW, it’s awesome – Dr. Melot is this crazy scientist who creates mutated Grimm. He’s basically got a couple of screws loose.

Case in point:

Let’s analyze the original photo of the unidentified figure:

So the man himself has unruly white hair that is balding at the top, tanned skin, pronounced eyebrows, and a white shirt that appears to me to be a lab coat, which is what made me think of the Evil Doctor in the first place. I note there are differences between the two, but we also haven’t seen him for a while, and people change appearance, like growing a full beard instead of a weird mustache - goatee combo. Also, self-destructing your life’s work can probably be cause enough for you to lose some hair.

Furthermore, the environment around him is clearly indoors, and reminiscent of a storage facility or hanger. There appears to be either black garage-style doors in the background, or a storage space for what could be a suit of armor -- or perhaps it’s a prototype for a new robot/fighting machine? Either way the lighting gives the space a creepy, laboratory-like feel.

The man is watching the fight take place on a video screen that projects the feed from Atlas News. I’m assuming that the reach of the Atlas tower would include any islands in the northern part of Remnant, so it’s safe to assume that this man is in that area.

From Grimm Eclipse, we know that Merlot island is remote and an unknown location, though it’s probably safe to assume it’s somewhere close-ish to the NW part of Vale, as the cargo ship RWBY stowed away on left from Forever Falls, which is located in Sanus, the region shown here:

I think after Dr. Merlot fled his island, it’s entirely possible he headed north, possibly to build a new hideaway to continue his crazy-pants work. Frankly, we don’t know where he is, so this is up in the air and completely debatable.

Now let’s go back to the man himself:

Let’s look at the clip from a cinematography perspective: the first shot is one of the back of his head, which could indicate:

he’s just watching the telly

the intent is to have a air of mystery about him, to keep his identity a secret.

I’m inclined to believe the latter because there are TWO clips of this man. The second is just of his hand:

The camera focuses on this hand long enough to see it clench. Why would there be a wasted shot of a random man’s hand clenching unless viewers are supposed to be shown that he’s upset about Penny’s death? On that note, I would like to make the following conclusion:

Dr. Merlot built Penny.

I’m going to have to do a lot of analysis here, so buckle up.

In Vol. 2, Chapter 3: A Minor Hiccup Penny tells Ruby “I've never been to another kingdom before. My father asked me not to venture out too far, but, oh you have to understand, my father loves me very much. He just worries a lot.” Merlot seemed very fond of his mutated Grimm, so I would imagine he would be just as fond of Penny; if he built her, she may just be his greatest achievement, and he wouldn’t want her to be compromised or fail.

When Ruby asks why she didn’t let them know she was okay after the fight at the end of the first Volume, Penny responds “I, was asked, not to talk to you. Or Weiss... or Blake... or Yang. Anybody really.” If Dr. Merlot is indeed Penny’s father, he would be angry about their interference on his island, but probably has no way to lash out in revenge without raising suspicion, so he just told Ironwood to keep Penny away from team RWBY (I’ll get to the Ironwood thing in a minute).

"Was your dad that upset?" Ruby asks. Penny hesitantly replies "No, it wasn't my father." Penny then becomes uncomfortable watching the military's presentation. "Maybe we should go somewhere else..." After the truck incident, Penny finally confides in Ruby and tells here in the next episode that “Most girls are born, but I was made. I'm the world's first synthetic person capable of generating an aura." I can’t even begin to imagine how that technology would work, but if Dr. Merlot can do freaky things combining dust and grimm, I think he’s the most likely candidate to be able to combine a soul and a machine into a cohesive unit.

After Penny has exhibited her strength and power multiple times, Ruby says during a crushing hug, “I can see why your father would want to protect such a delicate flower!” Penny says "Oh, he's very sweet. My father's the one that built me! I’m sure you would just love him!” (After the analysis I’ve done thus far, I have to say that, unfortunately, she probably wouldn’t, Penny.)

The next part of their conversation makes me veeerry curious:

R: “Wow, he built you all by himself?”

P: “Well almost, he had some help from Mr. Ironwood.”

R: “The general? Wait, is that why those soldiers were after you?”

P: “They like to protect me too!”

R: “Pfft. They don’t think you can protect yourself?”

P: “They're not sure if I'm ready yet. One day, it will be my job to save the world. But I still have a lot left to learn. That's why my father let me come to the Vytal festival. I want to see what it’s like in the rest of the world, and test myself in the tournament.”

R: “Penny, what are you talking about? Save the world from what? We’re in a time of peace.”

P: “That’s not what Mr. Ironwood said.”

So we know that General Ironwood is on the whole maiden-secret-society shindig, so we presume he’s a ‘good’ guy. I’m sure you’re asking yourself, Now why would Dr. Merlot, a crazy scientist who’s probably a global criminal, be working with the general of an army? I, too, wondered about that, and I think that the most likely explanation is that Ironwood already knew Dr. Merlot; he trusts him. We know Ironwood has robotic prosthetics; his right arm, leg, part of his torso, and right forehead are all made of metal. The piece on his forehead makes me think that part of the damage may have been in his brain, which could be a tricky area to repair. Perhaps Ironwood’s cyborg-like parts were manufactured by Dr. Merlot, who, despite turning to questionable research methods, was a brilliant scientist. Knowing this, Ironwood could which could have led him to turn to the doctor, despite any charges against him. Dr. Merlot could still have a secret vendetta; I think it would be awesome if he resurfaces and is in league with Salem and her squad. I imagine he would have a high interest in the nature of maiden’s powers -- OOH WAIT Ironwood supplied the machines to do the aura transfer from Amber to Pyrrha! Connecting that with Penny’s aura, perhaps Dr. Merlot had dedicated his studies to that of auras, in order to keep under the radar and continue his work.

I look forward to future volume of RWBY to see if Dr. Merlot resurfaces I just hope he doesn’t turn out to be as aura-ble as he was in Grimm Eclipse!

--

K, that got a lot longer than I intended. But that’s good, I found more evidence to support my theory and developed it further. Even if it turns out to be completely wrong (that’s the beauty of a show’s plot development), this was fun to make!

Do you agree with my evidence, or do you have another theory as to the unidentified man’s identity and/or Dr. Merlot’s current whereabouts and motivation? Let me know what you think!

[theranskahovs]

Road Trip *Piotr x Reader*

@Iocuraace requested: 71, it can be anyone  Warnings: cursing, that trope where the characters hate each other 103% then end up fucking Word Count: waay too many 4k A/N: 71. “You’re my fake wife/spouse, deal with it.” I decided to do this w/ Piotr, and also include the requests for 60. “Please tell me this is a joke!” and 62.  “We only have one room left for the night…” Also included some requests from the kinks list because I like being lazy :^) 64. no speaking + 3. almost getting caught + 61. multiple orgasm; i’d like to call this fic: we’d fight each other to the death if we could but the universe has other plans

Day One

“Piotr, (Y/N), come here!” Sergei calls you both from across the garage. You make your way over to him, surprised you could hear him over the din of the building. 

You wait as Piotr casually strolls over, biting your cheek as he takes his precious time. He nods to Sergei, ignoring you completely. 

“A deal went bad in Rochester, you need to find a member of the Irish mob and collect some money. If you can’t, make it apparent that he’ll never fuck up his end of an arrangement again. Are we clear?” 

You feel the color drain from your face. This can’t be happening. “Please tell me this is a joke!” You exclaim, pleading with Sergei.

He turns to you seriously. “If you have a problem take it up with the Ranskahovs, they planned it,” he says in a tone that suggests it’s the last thing you should do. “You’re not a child. It’ll be a day, two at most. Deal with it,” he states.

You stare at the ground angrily, thinking about what cosmic power you could’ve angered to be put in this position. Anybody but Piotr. You’d gladly go with Dmitry, Mikhail, Sergei, even the bosses themselves, who you wouldn’t admit you were scared of. Anybody but Piotr.

Ever since you came to the garage, he’d been nothing but horrible to you. He did everything from making rude comments as you struggled to find your place, deliberately sabotaging you, to flat out ignoring you for the last few weeks. You hadn’t done anything to him but be civil. If anyone was a child, it was him.

Sergei continues on about the specifics of the trip, but you’re lost in your thoughts. You catch the end of his speech, and realize it’s not that important, anyway. You glare at Piotr, and he smirks back, probably glad at the free chance to make your life hell for the next few days.

When Sergei finishes, he says, “Good luck,” and goes back to his business, leaving you and Piotr standing alone. You go to grab guns, ammo, and other necessities, glad to have some last minutes to yourself.

When you return, Piotr is leaning against his cab, looking impatient. “We’re not taking this.” You outright tell him.

“Yes, we are. Get in.” He opens the driver’s side and gets in, not looking back at you. 

You open your door roughly and argue, “This won’t get us to Rochester. It’s a piece of shit. I should know, I’ve worked on it.” 

“Don’t come then. You won’t be much help anyway,” he challenges. 

You huff and place your duffel bag in the back seat, settling in for the long ride. Instantly, you can feel the tension in the car and try to inch away from Piotr. As he pulls out of the garage, you turn the radio on, desperate to fill the silence; you wouldn’t be making small talk.

He scoffs as you select a pop station, and you wonder what else he would have preferred. Too bitter for county, not smart enough for classical. Probably rap you conclude to yourself.

Five minutes into the drive and he pulls out a pack of cigarettes, pulling one out with his teeth and leaning over the wheel to light it. He doesn’t offer you one, not that you wanted one anyway, and you didn’t expect him to. You reach to roll down your window but he stops you. “No, too cold.”

“Then don’t smoke in here. It already stinks bad enough,” you reply. It wasn’t a lie, the car already smelled strongly of cigarettes, cheap cologne, and perfume. You grimace as you wonder why the smell of perfume is so strong, you decide you don’t want to know. 

“Too bad,” he mutters, taking a deep puff and exhaling the smoke onto your side of the car. You almost cough as you inhale the smoke. He just chuckles, taking another puff.

You angrily roll down your window. Without thinking, you pull the cig from his lips and toss it out onto the road. “Hey!” He yells.

“We’re going to be alone together for two days, you might as well stop being an asshole now and make it a lot easier on the both of us,” you retort. 

He clenches his jaw, not responding. But he doesn’t light another cigarette, and doesn’t protest about the fresh air streaming into the car. Well, it’s a start.

The next hour passes without incident, both of you silent and trying to get lost in your thoughts. Piotr stops at a small gas station, and hands you $50. “Get food and the rest goes for gas.”

You yank the money out of his hand, feeling like a child being told what to do. Once inside, you pay for some water, chips, and $40 for gas. You take your time in the small store, not wanting to go back to the car. Piotr was almost bearable after you yelled at him, but almost bearable wasn’t enough.  

Reluctantly, you return to the cab as Piotr starts to pump the gas. Once he’s done and gets in, you toss a bag of chips to him. “Bon Appetit.”

Before you know it, you’re back on the road, and merging onto the freeway. It’s packed, since it’s about rush hour, and you’re instantly stuck in traffic. 

After 45 minutes, you’ve only moved a few miles. Piotr’s carefully watching one of the gauges, tapping the wheel anxiously when he only moves up a few feet.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, worried you’re out of gas but realize you should have at least half a tank from the fill-up.

He shrugs. “Is nothing.” You look at him, knowing he’s lying. “The engine’s overheating.”

“So turn it off, we’ll be stuck here for a while, anyway.” As you say that, white smoke starts rising from the hood, blocking your view of the road. 

“Shit,” Piotr mumbles, quickly turning off the car. Traffic moves up a bit, and the car behind you lays on their horn. 

“Go!” You tell him, jumpy about the situation.

“Where?! I can’t exactly pull over!” He was right, you were in the second lane of a 4 lane freeway, and with the bumper-to-bumper traffic no one would appreciate him changing lanes.

“Figure it out, you’re the driver!” You scoff, angry that he was persistent about taking his cab, even when you both knew it wouldn’t have made it. 

Piotr turns the car on, and maneuvers toward the outer right part of the road, earning a lot of middle fingers and angry honks, to which he responds back with both of his. 

Once Piotr pulls into the gravel, you both hop out to inspect the damage. As he pops the hood, smoke spills out. 

You clench your fists, wondering could one person be so stupid. “I told you!” you yell at him. “I told you we wouldn’t make it to Rochester and you just ignored me! Because apparently I’ll never be as smart as you, Piotr. Apparently I have no clue what I’m doing. Guess what, now we’ll never make it to Rochester and the guy will be gone. I’ll have to go tell Sergei we failed. That’s what you want isn’t it? To make me look like a stupid little girl that can’t do anything right?”

He doesn’t look at you, just watched the traffic slowly go by. Quietly, he responds, “No.”

“Well then what the fuck is it? Huh?”

“This isn’t my fault!” He yells, striding over to you, making you aware of how small you are compared to him. 

“Yes it is!” You respond, looking up at him accusingly. Without thinking, you hit him in the chest with you fist, the only thing you can do at such a close distance. 

You do it again when he doesn’t react, and again and again. After six months of putting up with him and his shit, you’re glad to get it out, even if it isn’t hurting him.

“Hey! Stop!” He shouts, grabbing your wrists. You stomp on his foot for emphasis, and he grabs your waist and spins you away from him. You try to elbow him but he twists his ribs away from you. 

He pulls you closer into him, holding you tight as you breath heavily. You feel the anger slowly drain out of you, replaced by a tired feeling. Why did you have to get stuck with him? 

After half a minute he asks, “Are you done now?” 

“Yes.” He doesn’t move, so you restate, “Yes, I am. Now let me go.”

He releases you and you yank your wrists away from him, not giving him an apology. He starts walking away from you, and you call out to him, “Where are you going?” 

When you catch up with him he says, “Someone will come get it later, we’ll have to walk. We don’t have time to wait for them.”

You sigh, starting the long walk. A half hour later you take the first exit you see, drawn towards the billboards with promises of hotels. You can see the lit-up signs for fast food places in the near-distance, contrasted by the beginning of dusk.

Another half hour later and you huff angrily to yourself. You’re thirsty and tired from the day, and you didn’t pick the best shoes to wear.

“What’s wrong now?” 

“Nothing,” you snap. You add, knowing it’s stupid, “My feet hurt.”

Piotr chuckles condescendingly. “Does the princess want to be carried?”

“Pfft, no. You’d drop me, you’re pretty weak. Or you’d do it on purpose.”

Piotr just shrugs, picking up his pace. Soon enough you come to a McDonald’s, and you stop to get dinner. Inside you’re surrounded by couples, friends, and families with kids running around. It’s ironic to you how normal it seems.

Once you’re done, you search for a hotel. The only thing that seems to be around is a grungy motel, with half the sign burnt out. When you enter, you’re met by the scent of dust and grime, and a balding, creepy man. 

“Two rooms,” Piotr states, tossing a $100 on the counter. The man quickly pockets it, and hands him a key. 

“We only have one room left for the night,” he states. He eyes you, smiling with a grin that’s missing a tooth or two. “You can stay with me, honey.” 

You scowl, feeling his stare rake up and down your body. Piotr places his arm around you, glaring at the man. “Oh, actually one will do. She’s my wife, and all.”

The man looks at him disbelievingly, but goes back to reading his paper. As you step into the elevator, he winks at you, and you feel the intent behind his stare.

Once the elevator doors close, you shrug Piotr off. “Really?”

“You’re my fake wife, deal with it. If I didn’t say that he wouldn’t have left you alone.”

“Yeah thanks for saving me. I might be in a gutter, chopped in pieces without you,” you say with a roll of your eyes. “That’s happened before. It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“You don’t have to,” he states, as he opens the door. You’re left wondering what he means, but it’s pushed out of your mind as you see the state of the room.

It looks like no one has cleaned it in years, and there’s stains on the carpet, furniture, ceiling... everywhere you look is disgusting. You stand there in shock as Piotr places his phone on the bedside table, “Not good enough for the princess?”

You realize that there’s only one bed, and a chair. You’re not taking the chair. “Bed’s mine,” you claim. 

Piotr raises his eyebrows. “I believe it’s my room, no?” He dangles his set of keys for you to see. “I guess you could always go spend the night with the nice man downstairs.”

You scoff, ignoring him and laying down on the bed. It’s pretty early, but you want nothing more than to sleep. Piotr goes into the bathroom, and you hear the shower start. Just as you start to fall asleep, he comes out, and turns on the light. 

You see him walking around the room, half-naked, searching for his phone. He’s only got his underwear on, and his hair is messy and damp. He sees you watching him and smirks. “Like what you see, princess?”

You turn around so you’re not facing him anymore. “Stop calling me that.” You feel the bed sag as he lays down, and his body heat is tangible in the small space. He lays down facing away from you and doesn’t bother you again.

Day Two

When you wake up, it’s not due to the sunlight streaming from the cheap blinds (which is very bright) but rather the feeling of your hair tickling your face. You brush your hair off your face, and feel a tightness around your body. 

As you blink the sleep from your eyes, you realize Piotr’s body is pressed against yours and his hand is resting on your waist. It feels comfortable and nice, until you remember it’s Piotr. 

All traces of relaxation are gone when he snores, right in your ear, and your hair is blown back into your face. You try to scoot away from him, but in his sleep his hand tightens on your hip, holding you in place. 

“Piotr,” you mumble, trying to get away from him. “Piotr.” You bump back into him slightly, hoping he’s a light sleeper. He doesn’t move. As you try to twist around in his grip, you feel the distinct feeling of his dick pressing into your ass. 

“Oh my god,” you mumble. All gentleness gone, you pick his hand off your waist and let it drop onto the bed.

Piotr wakes up then, blinking and confused. “What?” he asks groggily, his voice deeper than usual. He must realize how close to you he is, but also his predicament, because he doesn’t move away. 

“Morning,” you say, getting up to take a shower. You thought about making it even more awkward for him, but decided against it. 

The shower’s just as gross as the motel room, and you don’t feel any cleaner when you get out. You dress as quickly as you can, not wanting to waste another minute in the dirty motel.

When you get out, Piotr’s all ready. “Someone dropped off another cab.”

“Good. I hope it works this time,” you say, shooting a pointed look at him. He rolls his eyes, leading you out front and to the cab.

Thankfully, you make it to the address Sergei gave you without any more problems. It took a couple more hours, and you’re half-surprised the guy didn’t catch on that you were coming.

Piotr stops in front of a small apartment complex, looking like it’s seen better days. Loitering around the front is a group of suspicious looking men, and you know instantly you’re at the right place. 

Cautiously, you get out and make your way over to the guys. “Where’s Reid?” Piotr asks. He’s met with glares and curious eyes. One man juts a thumb behind him, indicating to go into the complex and upstairs.

Piotr nods, letting you go in front of him. He follows you up the stairs, placing his hand lightly on the small of your back as you go. Once you’ve gone up the first flight of stairs, you can tell which room Reid is in. There’s another small group of Irish guys outside, and they stare at the both of you as you go in. 

Reid is sitting at a table, and Piotr approaches him first. “You know what we came for.”

“You’ll get your money,” he states casually, as if Piotr asked about the weather.

“We’ll get it now, and we’ll be on our way. It’s simple,” you say, showing him the gun tucked into the waistband of your jeans.

“Since when did the Ranskahovs send women to do their dirty work?”

You roll your eyes, striding over to where he’s sitting and kicking him under the chin. In an instant, he’s out of his chair and flying at you, hitting you roughly in the jaw. You stumble back, clutching at your jaw.

“Control your bitch, man,” Reid spits at Piotr, muttering something under his breath that’s directed at you, but thankfully you don’t speak Gaelic. 

Reid tosses a small bag of cash at Piotr’s feet, “It’s not worth the trouble.”

Piotr spits a derogative at him in Russian, and slams the door as you leave. The men watch you as you get back in the cab, and it’s almost eerie, even though you would have done the same to them if they came to the garage. 

On the drive back, Piotr’s more quiet than usual, considering it went relatively well. At the worst you’d thought you would have had to take on part of the mob. 

Half an hour out he turns onto a side street with no exit and pulls over. “Let me see your jaw.” 

You turn to him, showing him the right side of your face. You’d avoided looking at it in the mirror, fearing the worst. It was throbbing and painful, but you didn’t think it was broken. 

Piotr reaches out to touch it and you hiss, jerking away from him in pain. He hums in apology and presses into the tender skin. “Is not broken,” he confirms. 

His hand lingers on your face and look look up at him in confusion. He meets your eyes and surges forward, kissing you passionately. His fingers tighten on your jaw and you whimper slightly, before he moves it to the back of your head.

You almost push him away, but it feels so good, except it’s Piotr. You’re confused and angry but you don’t want him to stop and you wonder why you’ve never done this before and then his hand gravitates to your breasts and now you really wonder why you’ve never done this before.

He pulls your shirt off, not bothering to be gentle. He has a harder time with you bralette, but you manage to wiggle it off. He pulls his shirt off next and pulls you back into him. Your breasts press into his chest as he holds you tightly, his tongue slipping into your mouth.

He moves his seat back and pats his lap, grabbing your hips as you straddle him. His mouth attaches to your neck, sucking a hot and messy trail down to your nipple. You grind down onto him, feeling restricted by all the layers between you two.

With a bit of fumbling and awkward movements, you manage to pull your jeans off, tossing them onto the floorboard. Piotr pulls your panties to the side, spits on his fingers, and instantly pushes three inside of you. 

It’s tight and almost painful, but it feels so filling. He pushes his fingers deep into you, roughly pressing against your g-spot. He fingers you harshly, fast and quick enough to have you panting out moans. 

His thumb rubs rapid circles on your clit, while his other hand grabs the back of your neck and drags you down to meet his lips. You moan into his mouth as your hips roll to the rhythm of his fingers. 

He continues his movements for only a few more minutes, and you’re already close to coming. As you come, you bite Piotr’s lip. In retaliation, he keeps fingering you. You’re sensitive and his movements on your clit don’t stop. You try to move away but his hand on your waist keeps you in place.

Soon the uncomfortable pressure on your clit turns into pleasure, and you’re gripping Piotr’s shoulder tightly as you feel your stomach start to get tingly. With a whimper you’re cumming again, this time more intense than the last. 

Still, he keeps up the delicious torture, and you just pant as he continues. Your body is tired, but if he stops now you’ll never forgive him. Even faster than the last time, you cum for the third time in 15 minutes.

Your legs shake and you can hardly control the high-pitched moan you let out. Spent, you lean back against the steering wheel and look at Piotr through your lashes. He’s smirking, beyond proud of what he did to you. 

Without meaning to, you lean on the horn and you both jump in surprise. At the end of the alley, a walker turns his head to the car. After a minute he keeps walking, and you look at Piotr and laugh.

He smiles at you, truly, for the first time you recall. As if he’s broken from a trance, he lifts his hips off the seat, unbuckling his belt and tugging his jeans and boxers down. 

He takes his dick into his hand, stroking himself quickly a few times, before teasing your entrance with it. By now you’re dripping wet, and he slides in easily. You almost don’t trust yourself to sit up and drop back down onto him, so he holds your hips in place and thrusts up into you.

You grip onto Piotr’s biceps as he roughly fucks you, your finger tracing the smattering of tattoos on his arm. Without warning, he grabs your chin in his hand and presses his lips to yours. Your jaw is aching in pain, but you don’t mind. You can barely feel it. 

Your hands tangle in his hair, pulling the short strands roughly. Within a few minutes, Piotr’s thrust become sloppy, and with a bite to your neck, he cums inside you. You both stay there for a few seconds, trying to catch your breaths, before you shakily clamber off him and search for your clothes. 

Silently, you both redress, and Piotr backs out of the alley. The mood between you two feels changed, yet somehow also the same as it was. You’re too tired to analyze it. Instead you lean your head against the cold window of the cab and watch the unfamiliar streets pass by.

Day Three

You wake up as Piotr drives into the garage, hitting the speed bump at the entrance too fast. “Wake up, princess,” Piotr says, elbowing you fully awake.

You and Piotr make your way over to Sergei, who’s surprisingly still at the garage. Before Piotr turned the cab off you saw the time read well past 3 am. Piotr hands him the bag of money, walking off to talk to a group of guys. 

“How did it go?” Sergei asks.

“Better than I expected,” you truly admit with a small smile. 

[mycasandstarrs]

SPN 8x14: “Trial and Error”

THEN: Crossroad demons and deals. Hellhounds. Kevin on his Prophet job. Goofer dust. The key to the Men of Letters Bunker.

Back at Fizzles’ Folly.

Days in the Life of Kevin Tran.

I guess Kevin abandoned his vegan diet.

He’s got something!

He’s also got a nose bleed. Ouch.

Dean decorating his room at the Bunker. :’)

Top it off with the picture of him and Mary. Please Dean, I don’t want to cry this early.

“I haven't had my own room – ever. I'm making this awesome. I got my kickass vinyl, I've got this killer mattress.”

I love him so much.

WHAT A DICK HEAD MOVE, SAM.

HA, Dean put up a grenade launcher is a decoration piece. AND there's the Purgatory weapon!

Dean cooked in the Bunker kitchen! Goddamn it, I love nesting/domestic Dean.

(I hope Dean cooked for Mary when she was around.)

The burger was so good Sam took it with him. Bless.

Eugh. Poor Kevin.

A “small” stroke???

“I figured out how to close the Gates of Hell.”

“Come here, you smelly son of a bitch.”

Aww, the happiness!

“The tablet says, ‘Whosoever chooses to undertake these tasks should fear not danger, nor death, nor...’ A word I think means getting your spine ripped out through your mouth for all eternity.” Oh.

Trial #1: Kill a hellhound and bathe in its blood.

“Look, you get on the net – see what you can dig up. I'm gonna go for a supply run because we need goofer dust, and the kid needs to eat something that's not ground-up hooves and pigs' anuses – not that there's anything wrong with that.”

Dean’s on a roll this episode.

I would have loved to have seen Garth and Kevin interact. That would’ve been awesome to see.

“This whole ‘saving the world’ thing – it's a marathon, not a sprint. You got to take better care of yourself.” Good words from Sam.

“Did you know that there are, like, 6,000 kinds of tomatoes?” haha. Sam probably did.

Sam’s got a lead: The Cassity’s.

“I got you a present. The, uh, blue ones are for the headaches, and the greens are for pep. Don't O.D.” Oh my god, Dean.

Shoshone, Idaho.

“Hey, pal, who runs this joint?”

“You're looking at her.”

Ellie.

“You guys here about the job?” A perfect opportunity to blend in.

Carl Granville.

“So you're not a Cassity? “

“No, my wife is. Her and her family own the place. I'm just one those, uh – what you call 'em? Trophy husbands.”

“You bed down in here. Breakfast is at 5:00, dinner is at 8:00, and in between, you're mine. Questions?”

“I miss my room.”

Dean, please. the room looks fine.

“Okay. Job is yours if you want it. But I better warn you – it's crap work.”

haha.

Alice Cassity.

“She's a real piece of work, huh?”

“Alice Cassity's a piece of something, all right?”

A piece of shiittt.

“So, what are we thinking?”

“What, dealwise? Well, Ellie's the help, so that rules her out.”

“And Carl doesn't really seem like the sell-your-soul type. So, Alice?”

“Ding-ding-ding.”

They couldn’t be more wrong.

“Clair de Lune” by Claude Debussy. 

Hellhounds are near...

RIP Carl Granville. Killed by a hellhound.

“This wasn't a wolf.” Ellie knew.

“Let's grab our stuff and get out of here.” NO NO NO. Not yet!

Carl made the demon deal to be with Alice.

“You think our demon signed up more than one schmuck while he was in town?”

“Wouldn't be the first time.”

y e p

Sam, the man with the plan!

Time to meet the rest of the Cassitys.

Noah Cassity. “He's 71, worth a billion, and just married wife number 5, a 20-year-old lingerie model.”

Alice is the oldest.

Then there’s Cindy Cassity. “She had a single on the country chart a few years ago. Then she started hitting the bottle, and, well... Her last album was a bunch of holiday songs for dogs. My favorites were ‘Jingle Bark Rock’ and ‘Don't Pee on this Tree: Happy Arbor Day.’"

Margot, the youngest. “She ran away just before Alice and Carl tied the knot, lives in Paris.”

“Okay, tonight is an all-hands-on-deck situation. I'm gonna need one of you inside, serving dinner and pouring drinks – a lot of drinks.”

“Okay. Well, have fun. I won't wait up.”

“And somebody's gonna man the grill.”  

“What kind of grill?”

Goddamn, Dean’s great.

“I do like a man who can handle his meat.” OOOHHH ELLIE.

Dean would be a great chef.

There was no more wine in the bottle! Don’t be so damn dismissive.

Cindy is the devil.

“Get cancer and die, old man.”

“You first, sweetie.”

pfft.

“Are they always like this?”

“More or less.”

“How can you work here?”

“I love the property, I love the animals, and I tune out the people.”

Ellie’s awesome.

There’s the bombshell: Crowley was the demon that made the deal.

Kevin’s got a way to see hellhounds. "The dire creatures may be seen only by the damned or through an object scorched with holy fire."

You two are in WAY over your heads.

Dean in glasses!!! Hot diggity damn.

“I think you're really hot. You want to go to my room and have sex?” weLL SHE WAS REALLY DIRECT ABOUT THAT.

Wow, that was really hard for Dean to turn down (and I can’t say I blame him).

“Ellie, um... Rain check?”

“This is one night only. Sorry.”

Oohh, that should have been your clue, Dean.

RIP Margot Cassity. Killed by a hellhound.

“You can't do this. You can't—”

“Yes, I can. You want to know why? Because it's what I do. And, buddy, I'm the best.”

Well okay then.

“I'm a grunt, Sam. You're not. You've always been the brains of this operation.“ DEAN NO

“And you told me yourself that you see a way out. You see a light at the end of this ugly-ass tunnel. I don't.”

“'Cause that's what I have waiting for me – that's all I have waiting for me. I want you to get out. I want you to have a life – become a man of Letters, whatever. You, with a wife and kids and – and – and grandkids, living till you're fat and bald and chugging Viagra – that is my perfect ending, and it's the only one that I'm gonna get.”

You ever lose the will to live? ‘Cause that’s how I feel after hearing Dean’s monologue.

“I Touch Myself” by the Divinyls. One of my favorite songs. Ellie’s got good taste.

“Margie used to say that – that if we were rich, we'd all be happy.” Margot sold her soul for her family to be rich.

“This is gonna sound crazy, but there is something evil out there.”

“I know.”

“You know?”

“It’s coming for me.”

There you go.

Damn it, Alice!

Ellie made a deal to heal her mom from Parkinson’s.

“That was a stupid move, Ellie.” SAID THE MAN WHO MADE A DEAL TO BRING BACK HIS DEAD BROTHER. Though I guess that gives him the full right to say it. Still, Dean, don’t judge her.

“I did it for my mom, Dean. What would YOU do for your mom?”

“Crowley didn't tell you about the 10-year ticking clock?”

“What? I knew that when I died, I wasn't going to heaven, but he never said anything about that or monsters.”

That’s despicable.

Euch, the hallucinations.

Sammy to the rescue!

RIP hellhound. Killed by Sam.

:( I hate the idea that Ellie’s going to Hell when she dies. I love her, she’s awesome.

“We'll track down another Hellhound, and I'LL kill it.” Stubborn as a donkey, Dean.

“I want to slam hell shut, too, okay? But I want to survive it. I want to live, and so should you. You have friends up here, family. I mean, hell, you even got your own room now. You were right, okay? I see light at the end of this tunnel. And I'm sorry you don't – I am. But it's there. And if you come with me, I can take you to it.”

“Sam, be smart.”

“I AM smart, and so are you.”

“Better than me, better than dad. I believe in you, Dean. So, please – please believe in me, too.”

I love Sam’s monologue to Dean. I love it and appreciate with all my heart.

Trial #1 is complete.

“I'm good. I'm okay. I can do this.”

[doublerumnukacola]

Part 2

The Old State House was quiet, as usual. Only the occasional chat between Neighborhood watchmen was heard. It was one of the few things Goodneighbor and Diamond city had in common; their guards spent more time trading gossip than doing their jobs, left a lot of slack for Fahrenheit to pick up.

The air in Hancock’s office was musty and damp, the few sunbeams that filtered through the thick moth-eaten curtains were cluttered with dust motes and drifting smoke. Fahrenheit sat at the desk, holding her cigarette in one hand, and writing notes with the other. Hancock woke up on his couch, listening to the scratching of pen on paper, the long sighs of smoke, and the occasional murmur of something chess related.

    He stretched out his sore limbs, hearing the familiar pops and creaks of his joints. He sat up slowly, propping his feet on the ground. His head was already starting to ache, he needed a hit of something. Jet was the obvious solution.

He rummaged around in the couch cushions, there was always a spare canister wedged in there. He struck gold as his finger wrapped around a dusty jet canister. He gave it an experimental puff to clear out anything stuck in the mouthpiece, last thing he needed was to choke on a piece of lint while inhaling brahmin dung fumes. He took a long hit, the chems burning into his lungs, spreading a shock of energy throughout his body.

“Why don't you just drink coffee like the rest of us?” Fahrenheit asked in her usual monotone.

“You kidding? You know how bad caffeine is for you?” He joked, “My Uncle drank coffee everyday since he was ten, dropped dead of a heart attack at twenty.”

“And coffee was what killed him?” She asked, a skeptical smile on her face.

“No, he was sleeping with some married dame in the stands, had a heart attack when her husband came home early. But the coffee didn't help.” She exhaled sharply, which was as close to rip-roaring laughter as he was going to get. She looked down at her notes for a moment.

“A few things happened while you were out, but nothing too noteworthy.” Fahrenheit mused. Hancock leant back and groaned. He hated these long reports he took another hit of jet, which wasn’t smart, it’d only make the lecture seem longer. “A caravan came in for Daisy, a few packages came for Doctor Amari, and piles of super mutant corpses are dotted around Goodneighbor.” Hancock coughed mid-hit as she finished her notes.

“What?!” He spluttered through coughing fits. She looked down at her papers again.

“The Vault dweller, aka the general of the minute men, aka the Silver Shroud, killed no less than eighty-two Super Mutants,  judging by the amount of semi-intact corpses.” Hancock rubbed his skull, he could feel the headache starting to come back.

“Any reason why?” He asked, it felt as though there was something he was forgetting but it wasn't quite coming back to him….

“Because you asked.” A voice answered behind him.

“Pawn takes king…” Fahrenheit muttered to herself in amusement. Hancock stood up slowly, doing his best to grin at Sole who was standing in the doorway, looking particularly chipper.

“Right on cue, Sister.” He greeted, but the gaps in his memory were still bugging him. “But catch me up on when exactly I set you up on this little job.” Sole frowned.

“The other night, at the Third Rail when you… Never mind.” She started, but thought better of finishing the story. “Consider it my way of being a good Neighbor.” She winked, before turning to leave.

“Hey, where’re you going, killer?” Hancock called after her.

“Got business with Kleo. Bullets don’t buy themselves.” She called back. He had to smile at that. He heard the State House door shut behind her and turned to face Fahrenheit.

“How long was I out?” He asked seriously.

“Since I found you passed out on this sofa, it's been about a day and a half. Not the longest you've ever been out, but it's up there.” She replied, glancing at her notes again. “Last reports show you leaving the Third Rail, the Vault dweller hanging on you, heading towards the Rexford Hotel, entering the hotel, and you leaving a while after that, alone.” Hancock fought through the fog, trying to remember. He vaguely remembered speaking to Charlie….

“Take a mentat, usually jogs your memory.” Fahrenheit advised. It irked him, but she was right. He popped open the tin, only a few left. He dumped the contents into his mouth, crunching the mints into a peppermint paste. He could feel the fog instantly clear. It came back to him in a flash.

“Oh shit I did ask her to do that.” He grumbled, “Why did I think that was a good idea?” She checked her notes again.

“We discussed the growing Super Mutant problem three days ago.” Fahrenheit explained. “I suggested a perimeter of plasma mines to deter them, but you made the point that it would also deter caravans and drifters coming in. Your solution was to send someone to take out the closer nests, without getting attention from the larger ones. In addition, we both noted that some were necessary to keep the raider population distracted.”

“I don't remember that last part…” Hancock cut in. Fahrenheit looked up from her papers.

“As we were discussing this, I noted that you’d had two tins of mentats. You were ‘delightfully rational’. That’s a quote.” Hancock shuddered. Two tins was a lot, even for him. He'd have to take it easy.

“Fine, and I guess we decided to send in our personal atom-bomb as a solution?” He hazarded a guess. She shook her head.

“You just said you would take care of it. Next thing I hear is that everything within a miles radius of Goodneighbor has been shot, blown to pieces, or in one instance permanently spasming in in a pile of garbage.” Hancock gave her a confused look. She looked down at her notes.

“Yeah, says right here: ‘permanently spasming in a pile of garbage’. She shrugged her shoulders. Hancock adjusted his hat, pulling it further up his brow.

“Well, gives the Raiders something to… She killed them too. Didn't she?” Hancock asked tiredly. She nodded.

“There's good news, though.” She added. “The lack of threats was what brought in the ‘packages’ to Doctor Amari. Got a lot of positive attention from our friends on the freedom trail. The bald one in sunglasses has been snooping around more than usual. I suppose he likes to think that drifter outfit is fooling someone.” She smirked.

Hancock groaned, that guy really got under what was left of his skin. Something about all the cloak and dagger routine really clashed with his way of doing shit. He needed another tin of mentats, he could already feel the haze returning. He reached into the cushions again hoping he’d be lucky a second time.

Fahrenheit frowned, it seemed too soon for his high to be wavering. He successfully fished out a bent tin of Mentats, popping it open and topping up his high. She knew if she attacked directly he’d shut her out.

“Hancock...” She started, but he knew that voice. He shot her a look. She cleared her throat, trying to adjust her tone. “Have you ever considered a fresh start?”

“Pardon?” Hancock asked in surprise, expecting one of her lengthy lectures.

“A clean slate. Starting over.” Fahrenheit reiterated. “Have you given it some thought?” Hancock crossed his arms, studying her expression. Nothing was straight forward with Fahrenheit, and there was a point to this. But he took the bait anyway.

“Sure, the idea’s appealing. Get out on the open road again, bring the fight to someone else for a change, rather than wait for it to bang on my front door.” He answered with a shrug. “But a town needs its Mayor, otherwise the shit show falls in on itself.” Fahrenheit gave a soft snort.

“I’ve grown up here, Hancock.” She countered. “Until Vic came in and took over, the place did fine running itself. A figurehead Mayor would run it just as well as a real one.” Hancock looked away.

Nobody understood Goodneighbor like Fahrenheit. She’d never travelled far from it, knew every inch of it, every soul that passed through its gates. He’d watched her grow up on his visits from Diamond City, back when he still had a nose. So if she said it could live without him, he believed her.

“What brought this on?” He asked. “Getting a bit too cosy behind that desk?”

“You’ve been distracted from the second you met the Vault dweller.” Fahrenheit replied.

“Pfft, ‘the second’ I saw her?” He questioned skeptically. “How do you figure?” She flipped back through a stack of notes and pulled out a sheet of paper.

“You stabbed Finn.”

“He had it coming.”

“Then you introduced her to Goodneighbor.”

“Obviously, introductions always come off friendlier after cold-blooded murder.”

“After she walked away, you stepped into a lamp post.”

“Bullshit.”

    “Says right here in my notes, ‘stepped into a lamp post’ followed by ‘Threats to all witnesses.”

    “Tell me Sunglasses wasn’t there…”

    “I could tell you that, but I would be lying.”

    Hancock sighed. It was true, if it weren’t for Fahrenheit and Sole, he’d be out on his ass right now, probably with a few more bullet holes than he was comfortable with.

    “Say I went along with this.” He started. “Where would I go?”

    “Where ever the Vault-dweller takes you, i’d imagine.” She guessed, rearranging her notes. “I imagine now that she’s back to business as usual, she won’t be staying much longer.” Hancock thought for a moment.

    “You seem to have this all planned out…” He observed.

    “It’s my job.” She replied, grinding out her cigarette. She looked away for a moment. “There is one condition, though.” He knew it was coming and it still pissed him off.

    “Cut the bullshit and tell me.” He snapped, rubbing his forehead in annoyance. He popped a few more mentats, it cleared up the pain a little.

    “See Amari about what we discussed…” She started hesitantly. “About the fixer-”

    “Really, all that for another lecture on chems?” He asked, anger starting to boil off of him.

    “You need it this time.” She insisted. “You can’t go five minutes without taking something. How do you plan on surviving in the wastes if you keep looking for a fix?” He was silent. He had a problem. The words were on her lips, but she knew better than to say it. The cliché was too much.

“You don’t have to go clean completely. You just need to get to a point where you can use chems again, rather than them using you.” He groaned, she was right. How was she this good without a pick-me-up?

    “You got me.” He conceded. “But you sure you guys will be fine without me? I don’t want to come back to a smoking crater.”

“Unlikely,” She mused. “The Vault dweller hauled in enough guns and armour this morning to weaponize every drifter and Watchmen for a year. Kleo is still leaking lubricant over the hoard.” Something clicked. Sole and Kleo…? He fought through the haze.

“Hold it…” Hancock cut in. “If she's already shown Kleo a good time today, why did she say she was going there just now?” Fahrenheit shrugged.

“I suppose she lied.” Fahrenheit hazarded a guess. Hancock’s head was working overtime. Why would she lie…? Shit, Daisy….

“Where did that caravan blow in from?” Hancock asked frantically. Fahrenheit looked down at her notes, then frowned.

“Some place called…” She squinted at the writing. “The Republic of… Dave? It's somewhere in the-”

“Capital Wasteland.” Hancock finished for her, already flying down the stairs.

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

“-Sorry, sugar, I haven't seen head or tails of him since he left weeks back.” Daisy apologised.

“Are you sure he hasn't… hasn't even sent a letter?” Sole pressed, her voice lowered to just a hoarse whisper. Daisy shook her head, a sad look in her eyes… Sad and guilty.

Hancock watched from the doorway, caught between wanting to give Sole space, and wanting to investigate what Daisy was hiding for himself. He compromised, knocking on the doorway to announce his presence. The two women looked up, Sole pausing to clear her throat and wipe the corners of her eyes. Funny, this was the same woman who left at least eighty-two Super Mutants dismembered at his doorstep.

“Hate to Interrupt, but word on the street is there there’s going to be a pretty groovy shindig at the Third Rail tonight, thought I’d extend an invitation to a few lovely ladies.” Hancock grinned, strolling into Daisy’s store.

“What are you doing here then? Kleo’s next door.” Sole joked, clearing her throat to mend the cracks in her voice.

“Kleo’s no good at parties that don’t involve target practice.” Hancock started to explain.

“So what’s the occasion?” Sole asked, a little curious. “Isn't everyday with you a party?”

“Flattering, but this one’s special. It's a farewell party.” He explained. Sole opened her mouth to ask more, but Hancock gave a wave of his hand. “Working out party details with Fahrenheit, but I’ll be back to see you later, Daisy. To sort out some, ‘party supplies’.” He finished, eyeing Daisy, who refused to meet his gaze. With that he turned and strode off, head already starting to fog up. He was going to need to be at the top of his game tonight.

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

Sole left Daisy’s store with a sad wave. It had been a difficult few weeks, hell it had been difficult since she left the damn vault… But her mind quickly brushed away the thought, protecting her from dwelling on it.

She was getting tired of the sights and sounds of Goodneighbor. The excursion this morning had been refreshing, she’d almost felt like her old self. There was something cathartic about sniping a Super Mutant suicider and watching it take out five of its closest friends. Perhaps another stroll through the ruins was needed. Maybe she’d stop by the old North Church, there was usually an errand or two to do there.

The ruins were unnaturally quiet. She'd seen to that earlier. She may have been a little overzealous. She missed the familiar sound of gunfire in the distance and the occasionally exploding car or vertibird.

She continued towards the Boston Common. She needed to find a quiet spot to collect her thoughts and count her caps before she went to the church. There were a lot of both.

Just then she heard the shift of gravel behind her. She continued, feigning ignorance, but glancing around using her peripheral vision. It was lucky she’d planned this detour beforehand, Boston Common was ideal for unwanted company.

She continued on, towards Swans pond. She could hear the hesitation in the interlopers footsteps. The white roof of the ancient bandstand was well in view, as well as the infamous sunken swans.

Sole could have launched a fat man into this lake any time she wanted, she’d considered it once or twice as well, but she didn't for this reason in particular. She stood at the fence around the murky pond. She bent down, looking for a suitable stone. Sole smiled to herself, and activated her stealth boy...

Hiding out in the Boylston club, she could still hear the behemoths roars, and the crash of lobbed debris. Who ever had been tailing her would be a million miles away by now if they had any sense. Not many had the reckless sense of adventure that would lead to exploring the area, much less find this place.

She sat on one of the dusty armchairs, amongst the former club members. It was a macabre scene, skeletons in decaying suits, some with cigars still clenched in their jaw. The ruckus outside notwithstanding, it was quite a peaceful scene. There were a few wine bottles dotted around, some still filled, but she knew better than to indulge. After all, she’d snooped around on the terminal behind the counter, and it wasn’t the bomb that finished these gentleman off.

After a while the roars subsided, the behemoth settling back into the pond, returning to their slumber. She'd have to be extra quiet about leaving, couldn't risk waking them again.

She was starting to drift off in the chair, when the front door creaked open, and shut quietly. Her heart rate shot up instantly. Who would come here? Who would be so stupidly diligent in their surveillance? It didn’t match the M.O. of the institute, and certainly not of any raider group she’d pissed off…

“Honey, I'm hooome!” A familiar voice sang out quietly, poking their head around the corner and into the lounge, sunglasses catching the shafts of light.

“Oh dear, you look so haggard. I’ll bet traffic home was just murder.” Sole joked, her heart rate returning. She should have known it was him.

“Oh you wouldn't believe it! Hey is this seat taken?” Deacon smiled, plopping himself on the couch, careful not to disturb the skeleton beside him. “Some jerk nearly cut me off, literally. A whole car just came at me.” Sole laughed as Deacon mimed the car flying over his head, ducking down for effect.

“Really? Because I had a creep tail me home, had to ask him politely, but firmly, to buzz off.” She countered. He leaned back, running a hand through over his scalp.

“Alright that’s fair.” He admitted with a grin. “It’s just been difficult to get ahold of you lately.”

“Are you kidding? I’ve been in the same place for nearly a month. Not too hard to track someone in Goodneighbor.” Sole snorted.

“Really?” Deacon asked, forcing the surprise in his voice. “All I’ve seen around Goodneighbor is some mopey Vault dweller in your clothes. This morning was the first time I’ve seen you in weeks.” There was silence. He had a point, but he could have made it without being a dick. He took a breath. “Soooo wanna talk about it?” He sat forward, resting his chin in one hand like an attentive therapist. Finally she sighed. Time to fill him in on her latest episode.

“It was a few weeks ago, or so people tell me. Feels more like months. We’d just gotten a cure for Duncan, his kid. I knew he’d go back and see his son, but I’d hoped we could do it together… And that we’d do it after we found Shaun...” She paused. “When he left, I kept expecting a letter… A message in a bottle… Even a  fucking smoke signal would be nice…” She gave a small bitter smile. “I forgot how nice it was to swear, at least sober anyway.”

“I’d heard about that,” Deacon noted. “Always struck me as strange that a guy willing to run with ruthless mercenaries would avoid swearing.” Sole shot him a look, he held up his hands in surrender and made a motion of zipping his lips.

“Anyways…. Nothing came. After a week I stopped checking up on Daisy. After two I started to drink. Not sure how much time I spent after that, just crying and drinking, don’t remember too much of it.”

Deacon wanted to say something, but he remembered zipping his lips. Instead he pointed at Sole, then wrung his fist on the corner of his eye with one hand as if sobbing, and with the other hand mimed chugging a bottle, then a sudden thumbs down and a disapproving look. It was as impressive as it was irritating. Sole ignored him all the same and continued.

“Hancock picked me up, gave me a job, I sobered up, and I'm not looking back.” She concluded.

“Except this afternoon when you came crying to Daisy again.” Deacon added, receiving another sharp look from Sole, but she prefered it over mime.

“A moment of weakness.” She admitted. “But hope’s not an easy thing to let go of.” She looked forlorn at the dirty window beside them that once overlooked the common. Deacon stood up slowly, hesitating over his next words, but he decided to come out with it anyway.

“The prick used you to save his son.” Deacon said bluntly. His jovial demeanor falling for a moment as he looked down at Sole. “I mean, he gets a gold star for motive, a dying kid is pretty good justification, but he still played you.”

“No…” She denied softly, pulling herself off the armchair. She hated people looking down on her, and he knew it.

“Going out to kill Winlock and Barnes was a test to see how far you’d go for him. Killing a few ferals and grabbing a cure were nothing compared to taking on a fleet of gunners.” Deacon continued, a bitter edge to his voice now. She clenched her fist, she tried to focus on her breathing rather than his bullshit. “But don't worry, the sick kid part was true. I checked up on that through quite a few channels. Couldn't believe he wasn't just selling it-” Deacon was cut off by Sole’s fist striking him across the face, breathless and shaking with anger.

“You’re wrong…” She countered sharply, eyes welling up. “Sure, he left. And I don't expect him to come back, or understand why, but he loved me. And I… I loved him…” She glared down at Deacon, who was rubbing the red mark on his face. He felt lucky she hadn't just shot him.

“...That was real. Not a manipulation… Not a lie…” She spat at the floor beside him. “ But I know that's something of an alien concept to you.”

“An alien concept, huh?” He said thoughtfully, rubbing out the last of the soreness, even in her rage he could feel that she held back. “Maybe. But a liar knows a liar.” He started towards the front door. “And you can't lie to me, Sole.” He continued softly. “You didn't really love him. No matter what you tell yourself.” He dodged another swing, letting her knuckles connect with the doorway, she winced in pain, clutching her damaged fist.

“You can be a real bastard sometimes…” She hissed. “What makes you such an authority on the subject of my love life? Last I checked you wanted nothing to do with it.” A smirk flashed across his face, sunglasses glinting.

“We both know that was just a crush for you. Fresh out of the Vault, you’re bound to fall for the first handsome man that doesn't try to disembowel you.” He said knowingly.

“What about Preston?” Sole countered, trying to suppress a smile.

“OK you were bound to fall for the second handsome-” He tried again.

“Sturges.” She added, allowing a small smile now.

“He is a very pretty man…” Deacon agreed.

“Arturo Rodriguez.”

“The gunshop guy in Diamond city? I mean admittedly I think he’s been on everyone's Christmas list for awhile…”

“Nick Valentine.”

“Not being sythnist but…”

“Danse.”

“Not being asshole-ist but…”

“Tinker Tom.”

“Ooh I’ll have to tell him you said that.”

“Don't bother, he’s too in love with MILA.” Deacon waved his hands in surrender.

“OK I get it, you resisted many a handsome man before you fell for me.” He admitted. “But it was still just a crush. Happens to the best of us. Working long hours in high pressure situations is bound to cause a few sparks to fly.”

“Tell that to a heartbroken Agent Charmer, who ended up in Goodneighbor to nurse a broken heart.” She recalled, trying to force her smile. “Ended up taking any job that took her away from the Railroad, even taking on a merc to watch her back…”

“And look at Charmer now!” He said enthusiastically. “All grown up and moving on to bigger and better heartbreaks!” Sole smile became more genuine. “You’ll find someone, Sole, but in the meantime just refocus on the Railroad, refocus on Shaun. It takes a lot to keep our little family going, but we’re so close to bringing down the institute and finding him. We can't afford anymore delays.” Sole was quiet. “Clearing out around Goodneighbor was a big help, helped us send out a few packages that had been sitting around. Keep up like that and You’ll get Agent of the month in no time.” He leaned in and smirked. “It's been Carington 6 months in a row, so you got a lot of competition.”