#and i was broken and left with a low quality of life all the same

[misophoria]

societal structures don't rlly make space for abuse to be addressed, it's like they uphold this false version of reality where abuse doesn't happen or doesn't matter and where people who are openly abusive are largely treated as edgy jokers who need to be humoured and people who talk about being abused are largely treated as making a big deal out of something that never happened. there people who would care and who do help sure. but structurally? can u count on a cop to protect u when something heinous happens to u? can u count on the legal system to protect u? can u count on HR? on family? on institutions? on ur religious communities/authorities? u'd be lucky if u could. u'd be lucky. this world is full of traps and full of people who fall into them because they have no safety nets and guess what they become. they become the social other class who fulfill the societal role of keeping everyone else in line through fear. the designated losers who are there to make everyone else think "i can't be/become that" so they maintain the status quo thinking they can be winners in it. the designated people to be thrown under the bus. society as we know it is a butcher's shop where every part is commodified, where being seen as the prime cut is a point of pride but even the less desirable meat serves a purpose and can be sold, can be used.

[lale-txt]

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄, 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃 (𝐊𝐮𝐫𝐨𝐨 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫) ❦ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟎𝟏: 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐲

♫ Sleeping At Last - Two

I don't even know where to start // Already tired of trying to recall // When it all fell apart // I just want to love you, to love you

word count: 3.2k

⭅ back to m.list

Kuroo moves in the next day.

Or at least that is when she puts his name up on the doorbell and the mailbox. He stands next to her when she does, their shoulders almost brushing and the keys to his new place jingling in his palm. Before that, he watched her type up his name on an old typewriter and she gave him a slightly disgruntled look when he asked why she’s not doing it on the computer. 

“It’s faster this way, believe me,” she muttered and then sent him off to go feed Jiji as if that’s something he’d done countless times before. Like he belonged here already. Backoffice, top shelf, the tuna one. Half a can is enough. Don’t let his big round eyes fool you. (He did, in fact, let the cat’s big round eyes fool him.)

Yesterday, after he viewed the apartment, she told him to sleep on it for a night to see if he really wanted it or if it was just the whim of a moment. Kuroo wanted to protest, but he figured she had a point. It’s been a day for him–a burst water pipe in his old apartment, almost getting hit by a car on his way to work, the one comment by his boss that made him write his resignation letter while he was still in the meeting–all before noon.

On top of that it’s been pouring all day, too. Of course it was. 

He knew he had to get out of here. The buzzing heart of downtown Tokyo didn’t excite him anymore, it drained him, scared him. The monotony and the loneliness, the anonymity and the coldness of the people around him. It’s like he couldn’t breathe anymore. He left the office on autopilot and walked to the closest station, took the next train out of the city and just got off somewhere in the outskirts of town, an area which's name he only read on the map before. 

It was all intuition that brought him here. Maybe the stubborn refusal that this was his life. There must be more to it, right? There had to.

Kuroo was tired. He had been tired for a very long time. 

After walking out of the station he rented a bike, earning himself a slightly concerned glance from the shop owner (because surely he must have looked like someone on the verge of a nervous breakdown) and started exploring the neighborhood in the pouring rain. Because it was either this or going back to suffocating in his shoebox of an apartment. An easy choice. 

Calm. That’s how he felt while he explored these narrow streets, all sounds of the world muffled by the pitter patter and his own huffs and puffs while he pedaled. It was kind of freeing, feeling the rain on his skin and the clear air in his lungs. As if he could really breathe for the first time in ages.

All buildings here were much smaller than the big skyscrapers in Tokyo, and it was greener, despite autumn being around the corner. There were a lot of local shops, none of the usual chains with the same clothes and the same food you see in Shibuya, no–stores that still had a soul. He passed by a flower shop where he saw the owner arranging a beautiful bouquet, a record store that blasted early 2000s J-Rock, and eventually stopped by a sandwich shop to grab himself a bite.

While he waited for his order, he spotted the flyer in the window.

It broke all rules of good graphic design but somehow that only made it more endearing. Someone slapped half a dozen different Wordarts on one page, printed it out, then apparently added more handwritten notes–in a really messy handwriting on top of that–to it and afterwards made a few low-quality copies at the local copy shop on a printer that’s running on ink from the past century probably.

Kuroo was intrigued by it.

>> Apartment for rent >> 3 rooms + kitchen + bath + backyard >> comes with a cat (Jiji. you have to get along) >> everything’s a little broken (the cat is not. however he is the reason for it at times) >> more info at The Heirloom (open monday-saturday; 10am-6pm or just knock)

The flyer also contained a photo of said cat, or at least traces of it–due to the poor quality and the presumably black fur of Jiji all that could be seen were two small orbs in a void. When he tried looking up the address of the store mentioned, he didn’t get any results which made him wonder if the flyer was as ancient as it seemed. The shop staff who handed him his order noticed his confusion and shook their heads and laughed, then kindly explained that the data online probably wasn’t up to date since the owner preferred to do things the old school way. They drew him a small map on a napkin that would lead him there, to The Heirloom.

On his way there he wondered what kind of person the owner was like. Someone elderly maybe? Or was he just biased because in his head an antique shop had to be run by someone who was at least 300 years old? At least the people in the sandwich shop all smiled at the mention of the shop owner, one of them the girl from the flower shop he passed by earlier. Each of them had something nice to say which he took as a good sign.

Oh, she bought the broken necklace I inherited from my mother, said she could give it a new life. I spent my entire uni years at her shop, the book collection there is endless. It’s impossible to leave without buying something, right? Yesterday I saw a girl walking out with three vases and two bags dangling from her arms, really got the full Heirloom experience it seems. 

All Kuroo had was a name, the crumpled flyer in the pocket of his shirt and the gut feeling that they were destined to meet.

The first thing he noticed when he reached the store was the sign above the door, faded letters and the coating of them peeling a little, but it only seemed to add to the overall charm. It was an antique store after all. The entire building seemed a little older than the rest of the street and from what he could tell through the fogged up shop windows, the inside glowed warm and welcoming, even more on a rainy day like this. The old door bell announces his visit when he takes the first step into his new future. 

He’s overwhelmed by the masses of antiques, some of them stacked up to the ceiling. There’s bookshelves that look as if they’re about to collapse at any moment and at the same time as if they’ve been built to last a thousand years, possibly longer. Ailes leading in the depths of the store, like a maze you could get easily lost in. There’s a bit of everything–furniture from various decades, racks with vintage clothing of all kinds, porcelain in every shape and color possible, vinyls and cassettes, paintings in all sizes, vintage rugs stacked over each other… never has he experienced a place like this before.

A cat rubbing against his legs draws him back into reality. Jiji, he remembers from the flyer, and then another pair of footsteps shifts his attention towards the direction they were coming from.

Kuroo is a goner the moment he sees her.

He heard about the phrase before, to have one's breath taken away, but to feel it quite literally happen to him–that was something he hasn’t experienced before. With the flyer clutched in one hand all he can do is stand there, starstruck and drenched to the bones, a small puddle forming at his feet. He’s smiling like a fool and barely registers what she’s saying, too distracted by the drumming sound of his heartbeat in his ears.

Not only is she beautiful–she also radiates the aura of an old soul, someone who has experienced life in all its glory and gory. It’s as if she can see right through him the moment their eyes meet, see everything that shaped him into the person standing in front of her today. The almost painful tug in his chest is impossible to ignore, as if his soul wants to stumble towards her. He finds himself yearning to bask in her light, even if it was just for a fleeting moment. 

“Hi, I’m here for the vacant apartment?”, is all he can stammer out, but he might as well have gotten on one knee and asked if she had been his beloved wife in a past life.

And so he moves in the next day. 

Due to her connections in the neighborhood Kuroo is able to borrow a truck from the nearby flower store–Calla Lily, she and the owner are close friends, he learned–and move his few belongings from his old apartment to the one above The Heirloom. 

It wasn’t a lot to begin with: A futon, a few boxes with clothes and one filled with memories, the old rocking chair he got from his sister when he moved out for college and a few pots and pans, some of them still in their original packaging. The kitchen in his old apartment had been tiny and most of the time he’d been too tired to use it anyway. He lived off conbini food and whatever lunch the cafeteria at his job offered. 

By the end of the day, Kuroo sits down on the wooden floor of his new apartment, surrounded by the remains of his old life in moving boxes. A strange feeling blooms in his chest, something between exhaustion and satisfaction. It’s like everything is slowly falling into place, the universe making room for him to finally grasp the life he’d been craving the whole time. 

He could just curl up here on the floor and sleep for three days, he thinks, when a knock at the door interrupts his trail of thoughts. 

“Come in,” he calls out and rises to his feet again, brushing a bit of dust off his old jeans–first time he wore these again after spending the past couple of years in a three-piece suit most of the time. 

The door was only left ajar and pushed open slowly. First in is Jiji who hastily rubs against Kuroo’s legs before he struts off to explore the boxes and new scents of the apartment; second is her, lingering in the doorframe, not as brazen as her cat. She smiles brightly when she sees him and holds up a basket for him.

“Thought you might be hungry after today,” she says and lifts up the cloth, revealing an old stoneware pot that radiated a heavenly smell and one half of a sourdough bread. It smells freshly baked. “It’s stew. Old family recipe. Nothing exciting, but hearty, something to warm you up. Since you got soaked yesterday, you know? Don’t want you to catch a cold in the long run.”

Kuroo is a little too baffled and a little too moved to speak, and when he takes the basket from her, her attention drifts to Jiji who is in the middle of claiming Kuroo’s rocking chair as his new favorite spot. She clicks her tongue and looks back at Kuroo apologetically.

“This cat, I swear. You can just kick him out if he gets on your nerves, though I can’t promise that he’ll weasel his way back inside when you blink,” she sighs and Kuroo shakes his head and laughs. 

“I really don’t mind. Honestly it’s nice to have a cat around again. Used to have one when I was a kid,” he says and reaches for his phone in the pocket of his jeans. He taps the screen a few times before handing the phone to her. She takes it from him like it’s something alien or a bomb that could go off any second, but her face relaxes when she sees the photo of his childhood cat. It was an old calico named Kiki they adopted shortly after his parents divorced, his father’s poor attempt to make him feel a little less lonely. 

He steals glances at her while she swipes clumsily through the gallery, her tongue poking out a little from between her lips. It was endearing to watch. 

“You were a really cute kid,” she snickers after her third attempt to zoom into a photo of him napping in the garden with Kiki on his chest. “Same hair, too.”

Kuroo puts the heavy basket down on the kitchen countertop and looks back at her over his shoulder with a smirk.

“Were? What, am I not cute anymore? You wound me”, he quips back and she looks up from the screen with the most serious face, a small frown across it even. 

“I did not say that. Obviously you still are very cute,” she replies bluntly, and the words hang in the air for a few seconds until it dawns on both of them that they’ve been flirting just now and neither of them knew what to do with this realization. Kuroo busies himself with lifting up the lid of the stoneware pot while she puts his phone down on the kitchen table to grab Jiji from the rocking chair instead.

“That’s a beautiful chair you got here,” she says and breaks the awkward silence that was about to settle between them, and Kuroo feels a small wave of relief wash over him. He would have hated it if their first night as neighbors was off to a bad start. When he turns around again, her hands are running over the wood, her gaze focused with a hint of admiration. He had a feeling she would really like this rocking chair. Not that he had pictured her in it or anything, with a book across her lap and wearing one of his sweaters. Surely not. 

“Right? It’s a bit worn out and broken, but I guess I don’t have to tell you of all people that it’s not a bad thing,” he replies, a little quieter now. His gaze softens when she looks back at him and smiles. 

“These are my favorite kind of things actually.”

Jiji is hanging over her shoulder while she inspects the rattan lining and Kuroo thinks he could spend hours just watching her. Every movement of hers is done with care; from her fingers tracing the grain pattern to her eyes racking over the small notch in one of the armrests. He can tell that she’s already thinking about how to kindle his chair without taking away its charm from the past. 

It’s what she does apparently, fixing things that have been loved for a long time. Breathing new life into them while acknowledging their past. 

“Do you want to eat together?”, he asks, rubbing the back of his neck. He catches her gaze and neither of them looks away. “It… I’d really like it if we could eat together. Neighbor.”

"Neighbor," she echoes and mirrors the smile that’s forming on his lips. Kuroo isn’t sure if he’s imagining it, but he can see a flicker of relief wash over her, as if she had waited a very long time for someone to ask her for a shared dinner. 

Kuroo swallows, his throat feeling a little tight all of sudden, and tries to distract himself. Dinner. It dawns on him that he has never had anyone over for dinner ever since he moved out. How does that even work? You’re supposed to set out plates and glasses and…? 

“Uh. Don’t laugh but I don’t have any cutlery,” he admits with a small sheepish smile while his head rattles a hundred miles per hour. All of sudden he was feeling nervous. Who at his age doesn’t own cutlery? Someone who doesn’t have his life together. Kuroo could quite feel the self-deprecating thoughts crawling up his spine. 

Uncool. He felt so damn uncool. 

Only when she touches his arm does he snap out of it, looking back at her and remembering how to breathe again. She smiles up at him and something inside of Kuroo unravels, making him feel present again. 

“Boy, do I know the store for you,” she laughs and it’s like a hundred suns are rising all at once. 

There is something magical about walking the aisles of The Heirloom after dark, hours after the store had closed its doors. In the dim lights, Kuroo follows her around in wonder. She seems to have memorized every single trinket here, which shelf it rested in and what’s the story behind it. He could listen to her for hours without ever getting tired, he realizes. 

They came down here for cutlery, and while Kuroo was rummaging around the sets she had, she appeared behind him again with a stack of plates and some tea towels made from linen cloth, one corner embroidered with a trio of small mice dancing together. Isn’t it silly, she laughed and showed it to him, and Kuroo could feel his heart stumble against his ribcage from the sound of it. 

“Very silly. I love them,” he agreed. They put all the things they gathered on the counter and Kuroo pats the backpocket of his jeans for his wallet. She stops him right there by reaching for his hand and holding it in hers, shaking her head. 

“Don’t even think about paying any of this,” she says with a small roll of her eyes, but she’s laughing while she does. She’s also still holding his hand, and Kuroo can’t help but brush a thumb over her knuckle. “It’s a welcoming gift, alright? So this place will feel like home to you a little quicker.”

She squeezes his hand and Kuroo squeezes back, knowing there was no use in protesting. He’ll think of something else to make up for her kindness. There’s many things he wants to say at this moment, but the words just won’t come out, which is strange, because usually he was very good at them–just not in her proximity, it seems. 

Not letting go of his hand, she tugs him behind her, gesturing to him to follow her to the back of the store again.

“Come, I need to show you a rug that I think would be perfect for your living room,” she says with a smile. “I also have some heavy wool blankets you can put on your rocking chair until I fix the rattan lining for you. I think Jiji would love that, too.” The cat meows at the mention of his name and follows them like a shadow. 

They spend over an hour unrolling every other rug and in the end Kuroo picks three of them, because according to her you can never have too many rugs and Kuroo thinks he’s a rug person now. Maybe he’s also falling a little bit in love with her, or maybe it’s just the warm light that makes her look angelic, and her calm voice narrating all the stories of people who have once loved, a piece of them kept alive by not forgetting them in the walls of this store. 

Kuroo wonders if one day someone will tell their story with the same gentleness; their love, preserved.

a/n: serving you the lale special - the down bad (and soon to be lovesick) man. really my favorite genre of men. calla lily is the flower shop from wyr's love's nectar and the poor girl mentioned who left the heirloom with three vases and more trinkets is y/n from ellie's homemade love! the kuroocember trilogy holding hands all the way through.

✰ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓:

@staygoldsquatchling02 @gigiiiiislife @kameyyy @grassbutneo @kentocalls

@jellychannie @starry-magicshop @anonymity-222 @rriwyu @loveyislost

@stargirllost @fushiguruuzzzz @boosyboo9206 @wyrcan @nekozaki

taglist open! fill out this form to be added (or removed, no hard feelings ♡)! minors DNI!

[randomalistic]

Anyways here’s a rambling infodump thing about all the similarities between Spamton and Turbo and then some. (you should bully me for this)

My fixation on both of them… they feed into eachother.

3 foot tall FREAK !!!!!

THE INSANE SMILER…

Glitchy and pixelated

Full of envy, pent up hatred, DESPERATELY CRAVES REVENGE.

Kinda ugly </3

Or at least. Unconventional!

Used to drive a car when he was popular

I know there’s a difference between being a car spokesman and being a racer but it’s close enough <3 Spamton would not know how to drive a cungadero they just told him to pose in there and smile. Ok Headcanon OVER !!!!

Had it all in the 80s/90s before losing the spotlight

Turbo did his bullshit in 1987 (actual road blasters release year) and Spamton did his bullshit in 1997

Only really known as an unspeakable rumor and lives in infamy

It’s more like everyone “moved on” from Spamton and forgot about him (or at least tried to forget about him…) where with Turbo what he did was so bad that he’s only known for that ONE thing

Goes in hiding for decades

Spamton has his alleyway dumpster, and maybe other areas of cyber city with low traffic. Turbo’s hiding was implied to have been in the depths of game central station until Sugar Rush was plugged in. (Which I think was asked about in an AMA) Both are like. ~30 YEARS of hiding 💀

Would go any length for the same attention again

The interesting thing about this is Turbo DOES win. He does get that attention back by disguising as King Candy and being able to race again, and he keeps it for however long Sugar Rush was around for before the events of the movie. Spamton never gets it back…

But at least Spamton doesn’t get INCINERATED so I’d say he’s better off, even if the best outcome is him becoming an item

Dependent on some kid for his plan to work

Although Spamton’s relationship with Kris (dependent on them helping him) is pretty different than King Candy’s relationship with Vanellope (dependent on her not interfering) I still think it’s funny that they both have beef with children

Later attempted murder of said kid

Quality villains out here not even hesitating to kill kids to get what they want !!!

Imitated/fabricated identity

Spamton imitates Swatch, Turbo fabricates (?) King Candy

Stupid catchphrase

NOW’S YOUR CHANCE TO BE [TurboTastic!]

BOSS BATTLE FORM IS FUCKKKKED

They essentially have the same monologue of “THANKS TO YOU I'M MORE POWERFUL THAN EVER!! But it's not enough... so I'm going to kill you anyways"

I think King Candybug’s Face resembles SNEO in a weird way. Mostly just the big eyes and weird nose and THE SMILERRRRR. They have very similar vibes! I will stop myself now!

Virus/malware adiacent

Turbo literally claims he’s a virus by the end of the movie and Spamton is Spamton

Critically Acclaimed Tumblr Man (and hated)

From my RESEARCH. (Aka. Looking up art of him) Apparently a lot of people on tumblr liked Turbo in 2013. And those people have since become spamton people (perhaps ……) I guess that is me now too. Really unfortunate

Lore ties into a real life video game (Petz & Road Blasters)

In the sweepstakes spamton was kinda confirmed to come from a Petz game. I also didn’t know road blasters was Real until I started looking into it . (TurboTime is fake tho) But there’s a very specific similarity for you. Fucked up characters blurring the lines into real life my beloved

Rivalry/broken friendship with Those similar looking fellas (I’m running out of brain power here)

Spamton had the Addisons, which were like his friends? Fellow advertisers. Looked a bit like him, just taller with different colors. Spamton left them after becoming a big shot because he thought he didn’t need them anymore…

Turbo had the “turbo twins” (the 2 other blue racers in his game) idk if that’s their official name cuz they kinda barely exist in canon.. I think it’s popular fanon that Turbo is shorter than both of them, but that’s actually not true. But I’m still gonna count it. Anyways he KILLED them when he got turbotime unplugged. THEYRE DEAD.

Extreme temperature related death (is this a stretch)

Less of a similarity and more of an interesting contrast

Turbo burns to death when he’s INCINERATED in diet cola mountain. I could ramble about this a lot but. That’s for my second account

And Spamton NEO (in snowgrave at least) is FROZEN SOLID by noelle. He shouldn’t have asked for that ice cream man

Anyways I get similar vibes from those guys..

I hope they explode.

Also thinking more about this is making me realize how similar in concept deltarune and Wreck it Ralph are. As in, those apps and computer programs in the computer lab ? Yeah they’re alive and theres a whole ass cyber city and mansion and theres a ton of little guys living in there! (And same goes for the card kingdom in chapter 1)

Like if there was a dark world created in an arcade, it would probably look something like the WIR world. In a way, lightners would be the “players” because everything the game characters (darkners) do is to serve the players. I’m just saying !!!! These pieces of media are both Really Good!!!

[phoenixcatch7]

Welcome to the environmental lore photo collection that took me three weeks to do! We shall see if we can fit all the photos in!

Okay! For purposes of this compilation I'll not be talking about either seasonal areas or the war! Because those are whole separate topics, and well...

We know enough. Also, I had to lighten several photos, so they might look slightly off to experienced players. It's so you can see!

So, the very first area -

Forgive the quality, this is their second compression lmao. As you can see, we start off with pretty standard Sky Kingdom architecture - blue stone with pale blue paint, topped with gold almost-spikes. There's a landing area from valley (middle left) but it's almost entirely flooded with cloud so good luck landing on it now lol. An overhead walkway (bottom left) that only appears elsewhere in the valley citadel and skate race. Unsurprising, given the proximity.

The interesting things are the campfire, the lanterns, and the broken bridge (top left, right, and bottom right respectively).

The huge campfire and the rows of lanterns speak of low light levels and temperatures. The nature of the wasteland is pollution and corruption, so it's easy to think the thick, dark cloud layer blocking out the sun is a result of that, and thus came about later in the timeline. But it seems to be early enough that ancestors made their own countermeasures to the darkness.

The broken bridge, of course, led down. It's sizable. I wonder what it looked like, before the hurricane? Perhaps they used shuttle boats like the village of dreams? Unlikely - there's no boat debris anywhere on either side, but it's an interesting thought. Either way, it tells us the hurricane wasn't always there...

^ Enter the wasteland proper, and you're met with this. Everything is half buried in sand, the water is toxic, and there's not a candle to be seen (except of course on cake days, as you will see later XD) - this will remain true for the whole realm. Under the hooked arch in the bottom pic is the sapling (clinging on for dear life, surely) and the dock leading to Enchantment.

What purpose the listing building in the centre pic does, I don't know, but if you squint under the left arch in the bottom picture, you'll see there's another one (with nothing inside). Given its placement, it could be assumed one had to pass through it to reach the main entrance. It's highly unlikely they were homes.

Similarly, all those giant broken arches could have enclosed a vast area the size of a small town (figuratively, if we consider the dream village and the aviary) - they're all pointing at each other (as best they can). Valley has proven the smaller version of these are to be walked on, so perhaps guards or manta riders could patrol on them? You do crashland enter under the only standing arch, after all.

The paths, centre right, also seem to be doing badly. Their solidity and thickness means they're not simple flagstones or paving like other areas in sky - they're heavy duty, lined with I believe to be more of that golden metal that bent instead of crumbled. They were built over unsteady ground. Whether that be the sand and toxic water they sit in now or just normal water remains to be seen.

If you look left, you'll see a distant... Factory of some kind. Middle left picture. Pipes leading in or out of it. Whatever it is, production, water purification, waste disposal, it probably doesn't work anymore. If you've played Journey (sky's predecessor), it's strongly reminiscent of an area where you build a temporary bridge connecting the broken arches so you can cross into the enormous building ahead. It's a fantastic sense of scale, to realise that this ancient civilisation ringed a significant portion of way around the base of this gargantuan mountain.

Half buried statues guard the crumbling entrance - smaller than the gigantic ones in the valley stadium, but pretty much the same otherwise lol. Given the amount of buried rubble around them and the chasm in the stone above, did something burst in... Or out? The mystery isn't solved on the inside, but at least the corridor isn't completely blocked. Sky kid (me!) for scale! It's interesting, how apart from the obviously ceremonial dramatic valley statues, these are the first things we see of anything resembling combat or even weapons. A culture which has a concept of militaristic might. They're guarding something important. (Vault, duh.)

No! Unlike what you'd think, the important thing becomes clear immediately. The collosal, toppled bell (I always wondered if they were hollow), the odd ceremonial structure it landed by (top left), those funny diamond bells (top right, top left if you squint), the studded cylinders (bottom left). The hastily stacked rubble blocking the krill's sight (bottom middle), the ripped open roof (bottom right).

It's identical to the forest elder shrine. This is a temple. Could this have been the original location of the wasteland elder shrine? The only remaining proof of a secret eighth elder, now subsumed?... A cool shaped building the architects took and ran with? We don't know. Whatever it was, it was clearly of great import. Most likely ceremonial, or for worship, or, heck, the equivalent of a podium specifically for big grand speeches. When the roof was there, it was an enormous, grand room, guarded by stern stone giants twice over and blocked by the same great doors that hide the forest glade. The ones that light up and spin and only open after meditating and meeting the elder...

There's no sign of those doors now, which is impressive. Probably where they got the stone for the krill blockade and the hiding places along the little bridge. Good thing they're gone, then, because those magic hinges seem to have run out of juice and gone dark. My theory is they were there to keep people out - a barrier between the last traces of peace and the battle torn graveyard we're about to walk into. (Another potential point in the 'prev wasteland elder location' - an ancestor would have to pass through him to enter, and the enemy on the way out.)

There's pipes now, too - I can only believe they were a later addition, given how haphazardly they coat the walls, and the industrial pollution aesthetic much more suited to the grimy, bleak wastes of today than the gilded ceremonial hall this once was.

Just off the left after the main temple area, there's a large room, ceiling also torn off. I can only describe them as pedestals, but what stood on them I don't know. My first thought when I found this place as a moth was a wardrobe/constellation/friend constellation thing, but it's??? Eh. If it were statues, they're long gone with no sign, and they're not big enough for anything mobile. This room served a function, that much is clear, but if decorative or practical I doubt we'll ever know.

^ The graveyard. This is its actual name, I believe. Fitting. The wasteland title promised us Vault, that's all this place is now good for, so that must be the vault we see looming in the background, tower reaching into the low clouds. (If you've played Journey, you're already familiar with the tower idea, so it's easy to slot the two together.)

Here you'll find, uh, krill. There's four here, the highest concentration of krill in all sky lmao. You'll find giant skeletons. You'll find sand. Toxic water. And that's kind of it.

Interesting things abound, however! There's a fleet of sunken, broken boats (middle left), a campfire now overgrown with dark plants (not shown) and a giant crab roasting campfire with a poor, beloathed by the community, crab loving spirit (middle). We can only assume he's the one who built the campfire! Thanks dude! Please have an easier relived memory! (should we call it a seance??) Now, given the guy is an elderly dude who carries a guitar and spends his time chasing crabs all across the dang map, he's probably not a warrior. Heck, with the amount of crabs, he probably arrived after the pipes. After the war, even? On the middle right pic is the weirdly undecorated entrance to the sunken ship.

Of course I looked at the skeletons and compared them! Each wasteland one had tiny scratches or notches in the spine spikes, and yes they aren't there on the other, but otherwise the size and shapes are identical! These skeletons are whales, as proven by the skeleton in forest haunted by the whale whisperer! The poor forest whale died of head injury colliding with the building, so there's every chance these guys were also used in warfare for similar reasons - maybe even specifically bred to fight the krill - but it could also have been a tragedy of mass extinction during what turned the graveyard into what it is today. :( That you can find a Rythm spirit in a skull tells us the troupe came about a LONG time after the deaths.

^ To the shipwreck! The first pic I caught during the shard event (though they landed all the way in prairie!) lol. It looks so ominous... Outside of the seasonal enchantment beauty, this is the biggest vessel in the game, and much more utilitarian. Unlike SS Enchantment, this thing was a tanker, not a home for those on board.

Featuring - the only decorated pipes in the kingdom (middle left)! Life boat deployment cranes (bottom left)! A beached lifeboat, bottom right :(. A boat still attached (feat me). More of those weird diamond bells for cargo, which proves they were a valued commodity and at least semi mass produced and shipped around the kingdom! More than the craftsman in prairie, or the tree fellers in forest, they prove a thriving, stable kingdom steadily advancing in technology and society! And the boat being pointed to the temple - incoming goods? Potentially, for Vault?

The krill decided it didn't want to be in the top pic, but I swear he's there XD... Most likely what sank the ship, tbh. It's not caught on some rock, or ledge, or ditch. In fact, the bottom is more intact than the top!... I think the krill escaped the warzone and caught the arriving ship, possibly spotting an unlucky crewmate through those big arched windows. The memory of the saluting captain walks the wreckage of his ship, sending away a loyal crew member on the second last life boat, back out to sea. Whether it's the boat dashed on the rocks or if they escaped the krill I don't know, but we know the captain didn't. Crab whisperer passes through later, so we know the light seekers are also post event.

We've reached the entrance to the vault! It's.. Smaller than it looks from a distance. Vault must be a shorter building hidden behind it, or far enough away it vanishes into the smog. Under a shard event sky, the black waters look like blood.

The first thing you see of the battlefield is the large, imposing building, now listing to one side and rimmed with stakes (cheval de freise, if you want to be fancy. Large caltrops... When your mounts and enemies can fly). There's only one spirit here, lookout (middle left). Whether it was supposed to be a temporary building (UNLIKELY) or whether they didn't build it properly and the sandy ground subsided over the aeons that have passed between then and now is up to interpretation, but at least this time the lack of roof seems intentional. I'm more annoyed it doesn't line up with the temple, I had to stand literally on the right wall to get the bottom picture and it's still slightly left!

Lighting the crystal triggers three krill to emerge from the ground and start hunting. (One time I visited some unknowing friends who triggered the gate... A krill emerged less than a metre from me with no warning... Terrifying XD.) Previously they used to spawn basically on top of the players and you had to run for your LIFE, but now they take a leisurely stroll in your direction, so you've got plenty of time to wander your way to safety. Maybe stop and get an ice cream. Boring :/. In terms of lore very fascinating and scary, given the last stand and the aurora concert both seemed focused on defending the crystal. This whole time... It was rigged. By which side, I don't know.

The shrine! ^

From the outside, a large, ominous building covered in pipes and statue towers. On the inside, an octagonal chamber many stories high. Like the rest of wasteland, what little decor there is is chockers with that hollow star shape that symbolises light, the king, all that good stuff. There's six ginormous double doors ringing the chamber, all tightly shut. My first thought was six realms, one war council. Nothing to prove or disprove that lol. It would have been a great place for diplomacy, though, without the shrine statue. Sand everywhere, probably through the gaps in the ceiling lol. Beautiful door.

Wasteland elder himself!!! His weapons are the ones arranged on his shrine - whether that means he can manifest in the world and grab them or if they're stone recreations of the ones he carries at all times, I don't know. He's never been seen in any memory or cutscene of war, so maybe he can't manifest... We know the isle elder can, in the song runaway of aurora. His space is the very same place as the Crystal outside his chamber, facing out, and he points his spear towards where the kings star would be, the crowning jewel of his tower. We can safely assume whatever his role, he was defending Vault and Eden behind it. And he succeeded.

There's so much to talk about with the vault door. Top left, the closed wasteland/vault door. Bottom left and right, the closed forest door. Centre and top right, the open vault door. You'll notice more diamond shapes and boat imagery. But in wasteland, the jewels that presumably power the great door are missing, black. The double switches, inactive. Even when activated, no line traces up and no light appears - only the outlines of the stars and speckled lights hidden on the door itself. If that's not divine intervention from the elder, I don't know what is lol.

Pass through into vault, and see its beauty untouched. But turn around, and see the mounds of golden sand blown in from Wasteland, settling in the still air. Vault acknowledges its protector.

Some final thoughts:

^ For some reason, probably that it's the only place it's not very visible, the shipwreck is the only place where the kings star is absolutely massive and has a ring. Every other place, it's normal! It's probably an old design tgc forgot to update with the rest lmao.

^ An entirely accidental realisation due to my research. Man I love environmental storytelling. Nearly every detail of the mask matches the skull! The IMAGERY.

^ My first attempt to get a good shot of wasteland instead caught a first person witness to an expert krill dodger! I didn't get to talk to them, but know you were caught being very cool in high definition!!

^ I didn't get to talk about this theory before, but every entrance and exit to the graveyard and next door shipwreck EXCEPT their connecting corridor are all huge drops in altitude. Both are the only places you find boats. Both are sodden with black water. The ground is uneven. There's whale skeletons. My theory is that these areas were once entirely submerged! Water areas! Shipping and naval battles and cargo! Abyss proves krill can survive perfectly under water - and all emerging krill do so from water!! It'd explain the sand and the debris and the beached boats and all!

Elder shrines do like their slitted roofs. This is prairie. 'S why I wasn't theorising about the sand in wasteland lol. Gotta get the dramatic shafts of light from somewhere!

The open door and two beautifully poised strangers - well done on completing wasteland! I hope you enjoy vault!!

Pipe theory: these things pop up at the entrance to wasteland and follow you all the way through to the shrine, disappear in vault, and then reappear. They go all the way to the point of no return in eden!!! They're either taking something up, or, considering the amount of pipes that open into black water areas, the general gravity situation of vertical pipes... It's likely they were siphoning something away. Sewer pipes, but evil. Maybe trying to wash away whatever corruption happened to the Eye? It didn't work... Poisoned the waters instead. Maybe they carried water up to the Eye like a kingdom sized cooling system and that drained the waters??

And the photo that started this whole thing, the day I climbed the wasteland temple...

that's not smog. That is a wall. That is the biggest wall I have EVER seen.

Do you see the line under the clouds? The sky box? The 'horizon'?

YOU'RE ALREADY LOOKING AT VAULT.

TGC YOU MOTHERS OF DUCKS.

[heredis-sanguinis]

So, as it is very apparent my activity is as good as non-existent, I thought I at least owe some form of explanation: (under the cut)

My father has been ill. Extremely so, for the last five years.

He suffered a CVA (Cerebral Vascular Accident) five years ago, which left him as good as paralysed on the left side of his body. And he is a lefty, so that’s all his dominant side gone since then. And the type he had has like a 10-20% surviva rate, with an average of 5 years to live.

He couldn’t walk, drive, swim, do basic things any more. To say it did a number on him is an understatement of a lifetime.

Throughout the years he had physical therapy and many psych appointments. To the point he very slowly got some of his mobility back, by being able to walk with aids again.

We were becoming hopefuly that his quality of life was somewhy returning for him.

Then two months ago, he started having difficulties with eating, and started losing weight. His fatigue increased to the point he is sleeping most of the days, for 16-20 hours.

Last month, after numerous tests and scans and tissue samples, we received the news that he has malignant arsophagus cancer, with metastases throughout his body.

Treatment is no possible, with how weak his body has become.

And I was unaware of most of this in the beginning, since I rarely get to visit my parents with how hectic my life and work can get.

I’ve also noticed the toll it took on me now that I have been forced to come to terms with possibly losing my father within the near future. We can’t receive an estimate of the time he might have left. It could be days, weeks, months. Even a year or longer.

I’m more reclused than normal. Diving straight into work and private gaming. I barely sleep, and when I do, it’s very broken with me waking abruptly and frantically checking my phone if I missed any calls or messages.

My mom is breaking apart slowly, despite her attempt of hiding it from me and my siblings. My siblings are managing, with them having safety nets in the form of their partners and own children to be strong for.

I am very bad at keeping in touch with people. While at the same time already with a low social battery as it is. Well, that has been shot completely in recent weeks/months.

I don’t know how my activity here, or online on Discord will be. I might respond to messages, or might not. It really depends on how much energy I can muster for it really. Maybe I’ll be able to find some form of muse and motivation to write small bits here and there.

I’m sorry for anyone that I have kept waiting, without so much as an explanation until now.

[loremaster]

good post. i have thoughts on this as well, which tie in quite well to my ‘flame of scorpio’ comic

yakou’s penchant for heroism - that is, showing up to help people who need it just at the right moment - is surely something he’s had all his life, but it feels even more poignant after the dlc and realizing that his wife did exactly that for him. she was the one who reached out to him when he was at his lowest point. she was his angel. he carries on that good natured spirit of hers and uses it to help others in turn. he inherits that legacy.

it’s exactly what the flame of scorpio is about in night on the galactic railroad. the fervent, burning desire to help other people and make their lives better even if it’s at the expense of your own. it’s the whole point of the story. giovanni learns this lesson from his own ‘angel,’ his only friend campanella, who sacrificed himself in order to save someone who didn’t deserve it. if giovanni learned of campanella’s fate before his character arc, he probably would have thought it a waste, and bitterly wished campanella had never tried to save zanelli and left him to die instead. but luckily giovanni gets to go on one last journey with campanella and learn - among other things - the lesson of the scorpion. after all that, at the end of the book, giovanni solemnly looks to the stars and swears to live by that creed and help others as much as he can.

yakou’s kind of like a Dark Campanella. he lives by this inherited creed, and puts himself in the line of fire many times in order to help and protect others. that’s what being a detective means to him. like campanella does to giovanni, he reaches out to those who have no one on their side, and becomes their first true friend (minus shinigami for yuma, but obviously yakou doesn’t know she exists). and just as yuma and vivia get attached to yakou because of this, it’s clear yakou is just as attached to them. he wouldn’t have gone so far for vivia if he didn’t know what it’s like to feel that hopeless. he obviously relates to yuma a lot and wants to help guide this trainee to avoid making the same mistakes he did.

see, unlike campanella, a young child whose only flaws are noble ones, yakou is a broken grieving mess of a man who fucks up every single day. even though he’s got some important heroic qualities, he still manages to be selfish, cowardly, dishonest, lazy, hedonistic, defeatist… his life sucks and he can’t do anything about it on his own and he knows it. and yet the fact that he can still manage to help others, to be that ‘angel’ for one person, let alone two… that’s powerful. my dad always used to say, “it’s what you do in times of adversity that prove who you truly are.” and at the end of the day, despite his flaws and scars, yakou still manages to help people. he saves yuma from a demise at the hands of the peacekeepers, and vivia from a demise by his own hands.

but the darkest part is that it’s still at his own detriment. yakou’s spread himself so thin. he’s at his all time low, crying and drinking himself to sleep, sunken into the spiral ofdespair, plotting to end another’s life with his own, playing right into the palm of yomi’s hand. he’s probably even aware, on some level, that whoever sent the anonymous letter is trying to manipulate him for his own gain. but he can’t bring himself to care. his own angel means - meant- so much to him that he’d happily die a hundred deaths for her sake. like a samurai, committing seppuku to atone for his own failure to protect her. he molds himself into a weapon and makes the choice to leave behind the world he’s worked so hard to save. the people he knows are still depending on him.

and vivia… vivia’s smart. although they’d never really spoken about it until chapter 4, he surely had an inkling how much yakou meant to yuma - a lost amnesiac with a penchant for trouble and nowhere else to call home. like, yeah, yuma calls yakou out on his bs often (and just as often obeys his orders anyway) but in a way you do with someone you care about. like yakou does with vivia. so of course vivia wants yuma’s last impression of yakou to be an innocent one. if the depth of yakou’s darkness was revealed - if his angel turned out to be a devil - would yuma resent him? so many people see the darkness of others and turn away, balk at their sins. that’s what vivia feared the most - that yuma’s judgmental side would cause him to push yakou away. and in vivia’s mind, the best solution to that is ignorance - or in his own case, denial.

but in the end their love for yakou and their support for each other allow both yuma and vivia to acknowledge yakou’s crimes while not turning away from him. facing the harsh truth, as yakou’s final words urge them to. and in the end, they both carry that inherited flame of scorpio, as vivia calls it, the will “to live with [his] head held high.” the true meaning of being a detective - finding the truth, no matter how bitter it may be, in order to help others. and that’s what yakou wanted for them too, clearly.

it really is a shame that yuma and vivia only get one conversation about this between the two of them before they are then separated indefinitely (thanks makoto). and now vivia has to grieve yuma too - at least the yuma he knew. it’s impossible to say what kind of person he is now…. but there’s a good chance this unique bond between them - the heavy weight of yakou’s life and death - the inherited flame - still remains.

This is the post where I talk about Yakou, Vivia, and Yuma

(buckle up, buttercup it's a spoiler-ridden ramble)

so these three knuckleheads (and makoto, but this post ain't about him) just so happen to be my favorite characters in the game. and part of the main reason for that is, well, *gestures vaguely at all of Chapter 4*, but also just the dynamic that these three share. a long time ago, i made a memey post about this dynamic, and while i'm sure you can very easily infer what i'm trying to say in it, i'll still clarify it here:

vivia and yuma both have very, very similar feelings towards yakou.

now, this is not a sentence i'm saying with shipping goggles on- i want to make it clear that this post is not about romantic ships. it's a joint canon character analysis, and i think it's important to stress this early on.

let me start from the end of the beginning: the part in chapter 0 where yuma just left the labyrinth, and despite his best efforts in fighting the peacekeepers with facts and logic, still finds himself about to be arrested. it's important to consider just how yuma's state of mind is at this point in the game. thanks to both the brutal massacre on the train and his amnesia, yuma is helpless. he's traumatized, and aimless, and feels like he has no one on his side. this even includes shinigami, because while they develop into incredible partners later on, at this point in the game, yuma does not see her as such.

it's not shinigami who saves him from this predicament, despite how much she brags about allegedly doing so. it's yakou who comes to his rescue. and when he's under yakou's protection, yuma even internally voices his relief: "finally, an ally."

now, yakou is the first person yuma sees this way. when he got onto the amaterasu express, he was immediately thrust into a situation where he couldn't trust anyone on board, including himself. the people he could've trusted died before he had the chance, and the peacekeepers are most certainly his enemies. so yakou is the one that yuma latches onto. over time, that submarine, the friends he'd meet, the memories he'd make, yakou himself, and everything he represents would become home to yuma. but that's a bit later. for now, yakou guides him through the city, and then to the roof where they'd look over the vast expanse of neon lights and share a much needed moment of solace. a moment of peace... and quiet.

speaking of that phrase, i am going to start talking about vivia now.

from vivia's DLC, we learn a lot about his first days in kanai ward. he arrives to the city depressed, constantly searching for his own peace and quiet. thanks to his forte and his upbringing, he's traumatized, and aimless, and feels as though he has no one on his side. when yakou gives him the rooftop talk he gave the other detectives, vivia is notably pretty cold with him. he immediately makes it clear to yakou that he doesn't intend to go around saving people, or solving mysteries, or even making friends. he even tells yakou to leave him alone.

this i find really interesting, because when yuma approaches him in the prologue, vivia is very receptive to him to the point of even calling him kind for bothering to speak to him. i think this is because of yakou. it's yakou's persistent kindness that eventually helps vivia inch out of his shell, bit by bit, until he's finally happy to be receiving that kind of attention from others. in that DLC, yakou showing just how much he cared over and over again saved vivia in a very different way than yuma. but don't get it twisted- there's a lot they share in common.

let's look at the way vivia talks about yakou and the submarine itself. in chapter 3, he calls the fireplace within it his "beautiful bed of peace and quiet." in chapter 4, he stresses it again, saying "Surprisingly... I liked it there... The little bit of peace and quiet I found at the Nocturnal Detective Agency." and in the epilogue, he looks back at the chief's empty chair, and says "It was rather... comfortable in here."

from this, it's easy to tell that the submarine, the friends he'd met, the memories made, yakou himself, and everything this man represented, was home to vivia. sound familiar?

and i wanna touch on the other detctives too, because i am not implying that vivia and yuma have stronger bond with yakou than them or anything. they, too, deeply care for their chief and vice versa. in fact, yakou treats all of the detectives pretty much the same way (this is also part of why the yakou fathero trope doesn't personally appeal to me- it's almost always exclusive to yuma, which i dont think is the case in canon. the only thing exclusive to yuma is the pushing around and light bullying from yakou, and this is because yuma lets everyone treat him that way). yakou sees the detectives not only as colleagues, but also as people he needs to protect. even in chapter 4, when he puts everyone in danger, he still had their safety in mind- otherwise he'd only bring fubuki and desuhiko along for his plan. halara and vivia were there to keep everyone safe, and yuma was to not be involved at all. of course, he didn't account for yuma's impeccable ability to get into trouble... but more importantly, he didn't account for the possibility that the detectives would bother to stay with him and try to save him.

they all love their chief so much. they all try to save him. they all break down when they can't. and while i don't find vivia and yuma's love for yakou greater than the other detectives', i do think it's different.

halara, fubuki, and desuhiko all have these implied outer lives from what we see in the game. once they're out of kanai ward, they still have people, passions, and duties to return to. but the same can't be said for vivia and yuma.

in his dlc, vivia says himself that he has no one. this means that, despite the big family he was raised in, it's likely none of them are keeping contact with him. he says he has no regrets- only things to do before he quietly passes on. the man came to kanai ward looking for a place to die. this is the attitude of someone who fully believes he has nothing to lose.

yuma has amnesia for most of the game, so he quite literally lost everything. he even says so. as far as he's concerned, everything he holds dear is localized entirely within kanai ward. also, it's not like the man he used to be- number one, who famously works alone- had anyone to begin with. even though there is a very different set of issues from vivia's happening here, selling off your memories is, frankly, also the attitude of someone who fully believes he has nothing to lose.

this very similar setup is why i think they see yakou as someone who takes up a large portion of what they consider their entire world. vivia simply sees this in a more metaphorical sense while, for yuma, it's much more literal. in a way, this also kinda parallels how these two act.

so you may be wondering why any of this matters. like, okay, they both feel the same way towards yakou. then what? well i just think it makes chapter 4, an already amazing chapter, even more compelling!!

think about it this way: chapter 4 is a clashing of ideals under the same exact desires- to protect yakou. to protect their home. to protect everything they hold dear and return to how things were before.

but the ways they go about doing this are completely different. yuma chooses to protect his home by revealing the truth and weathering the oncoming storm, no matter how uncomfortable it may be. vivia chooses to protect his home by sticking to a comfortable lie, preventing anyone else from seeing the cracks in the walls and skeletons in the closet.

but, regardless of their methods, everything they do is because of love. it's because of care. it's because of gratitude. it's because of this deep desperation to cling on to what they believe is all they have left...

...despite the fact that it's already slipping between their fingers like sand...

and this. this is what i think makes vivia's choice to let go of that desperation, take yuma's hand, and fight at his side as a detective all the more powerful.

[mintmatcha]

tendou: a goodbye

You fall back on to the tiled roof of your home, the same roof you’ve laid on so many times before, and listen to the sounds of the town bustling below you. “You’re leaving tomorrow?” 

Tendou just nods. His eyes never leave the sky, watching the dying light tangle in the clouds. The violets and blues shine back in his eyes, clashing against the warm scarlet iris. It’s unseasonably warm, the night air sticks to your skin and sits heavy in your lungs, but you pull your sweatshirt closer. It still smells like him, even after all these years- surprisingly sweet. It used to comfort you, having a piece of him so close, but now it just feels like a souvenir he’s okay leaving behind.

“Ushiwaka’s picking me up at 4am, so I’ll be back in France by friday,” he laughs, rubbing the cropped hair on the top of his head. It’s grown out since he’s buzzed it; you wonder he’ll get a haircut as soon as he lands.  “I’m not looking forward to the time zone changes, but I can’t wait to get into the kitchen again.”

The way he smiles, the excitement glittering in his eyes as he thinks of leaving, burns. It scorches the back of your throat and boils the bile in your stomach to realize he’s happy about leaving home. 

No, he’s no longer leaving home- he’s going home. 

“I’m bring some green tea, so maybe I can make some quality matcha -” he cuts off, his face falling as he turns to look at you. His eyes are no longer shining back the stars in the sky, but shining with the tears collecting at the his waterline. He rolls on to his side and reaches for you, dragging a thumb over your cheek. It’s warm and wet. ”Why are you crying?”

The sob hits you before you even realize that you’re crying. It racks through your body, each breath short and shuddering. Fists balled in your hoodie- his hoodie-, you try to duck your face into the fabric, but his hand holds your cheek. His hands aren’t calloused like they were in high school, before he left, but smooth and dry. There’s still that scar in his thumb, you can feel it as he rubs your cheek over and over again. It’s from a burn, when he decided to make chocolates for white day years ago.

You have so many memories of him, but they don’t feel like enough. It’s selfish, but you want more. You open your mouth and debate begging him to stay, but nothing comes out.

Tendou throws an arm over you and pulls to close. He settles into you so naturally, tucking you into his chest and resting his chin on the top of your head. 

“Why are you crying?” he asks again, softer this time- like he knows the answer. Another sob wells up as you feel the fabric on his shirt grow damp from your tears and snot.

“I’m okay,” you manage. The tightness in your throat makes your voice high and scratchy and you hope it’s enough to muffle your words, “I’m just... gonna miss you.”

He squeezes you tighter and you can feel how your adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “Well, stop it.” there’s a tremble in his jaw as he talks, “That’s not fair.”

It’s enough to knock you out of your sobs. “Wh-what?”

Carefully, like he knows he’s pushing the boundaries of your relationship, he presses a kiss into your hair. The way his warm breath hitches tickles your scalp. “St-” there’s a whimper in his voice and he pauses the gather himself. “Stop making this harder than to has to be.”

You untangle yourself just enough to look at him. Even in low light of the streetlamps below, his tears shine down his face. 

“Are... are you going to miss me?” you clutch the back of his head and drag him closer, until your noses are smushed against each other. He laughs, but then crumbles into tears once again. Seeing him, such a beacon of light in your life, break, makes you cling to him. You coo, sloppily wiping his tears away and that makes him smile for a fleeting moment.

“I miss y-you every day I’m not here.” his lips move against yours as he talks. It’s not a kiss, just the meeting of skin against skin, but it feels more intimate than anything else you’ve ever felt. It’s in that moment, in the vulnerability and pain, you decide to be selfish and make one last memory.

When your lips fully connect, Tendou gasps. At first, you think it’s a rejection, but as you pull away he follows you. Thigh slides between yours as he rolls on top of you, deepening the kiss with each heaving breath. It’s addictive, each kiss begets another until the burn of pain is replaced by the fever of desire. The way he grips to you seems hungry, but the warm drip of tears on your cheeks tells you something else- anguish.

As he pulls away, he chokes back another cry. “Come with me.” he whispers as his hands travel your sides. “Come with me, please.”

“I can’t.” you pull him back down for another kiss, but he breaks away. He just stares, like he’s trying to memorize your features. In some fairytale world, you would drop your life and follow him anywhere, but that’s not reality. You can’t disappear into the wind on a whim; you have commitments, family, a life of your own.

“Please.” he begs, “Please, come with me. I’ll- I’ll show you Paris, make you dinner, teach you French-” he takes a deep breath as he kisses you, but there’s an air of finality to it that makes your heart ache. “I’ll kiss you like this every day.”

You close your eyes. You can’t look at his face, broken and desperate, anymore. “I can’t, Tori. I can’t.”

You don’t see him as he sits up. You don’t want that to be your last memory of him. You cling to the fading warmth of his lips against yours.

“I know.” he admits. “I know.”

[feelin-woozy]

Title: Stoke The Fire

Word Count: 1984

Pairing: Bo Sinclair x female!reader

Warnings: Daddy kink, breeding, degradation, dumbification

Thanks @slasherrabbitmadness for the inspiration and the absolute brain rot that she has given me with the idea of dilf!Bo :) go check out her dilf Bo stuff because it's,,, chefs kiss.

It wasn’t uncommon for you to spend time over at Bo’s house; it became almost like a second home over the years. Your father and Bo have a relationship that bloomed from the moment they entered business together a few years back. It wasn’t easy to imagine what life was like before Bo became so close to your family.

A warm summer breeze blows past you, ruffling the soft saffron colored cotton of your dress against your thighs. Of course, you don’t miss the way Bo’s blue eyes dart to the newly exposed flesh of your thigh, but beyond that, he doesn’t make a move, just sips the beer in his hand and takes another easy drag off the cigarette.

Your dad is prattling on about this and that, talking about some jackoff who tried to rip him off the other day at work claiming that his rate was ludacris and that there were a dozen other mechanics that could do it for cheaper. And sure, that may have been true, but the quality wasn’t there. It wasn’t biased, perhaps a little, but it was still a well known fact that your dad and Bo ran the best mechanic shop in town; it’s why they got away with the rates they charged. And there was always a sense of taking care of the community, their community, that had the townsfolk whipped and willing to shell out the money.

The lively strumming of guitars swirled around you, and you bounced your leg to the steady beat of the Seether song that played over the speakers. It was heavier than the usual stuff that your dad played around the house, but then there were many things about Bo that were heavier. Perhaps that’s why they worked so well together.

Your attention is drawn away from the melodic beat and easy going conversation between Bo and your dad when a small hand tugs at the hem of your dress. You turn your head to look down at the young girl, blue eyes staring up at you with a smile that lacked a few teeth. You return the smile to her, waiting for her to speak and voice whatever thoughts swirled around in that head of hers.

You had nearly forgotten that Oliva was here with the three of you. Bo’s time with her split with his ex-girlfriend, who he had some choice words about every time she was brought up. The young girl was undeniably Bo’s child through unruly brown hair bouncing with every shift she made and blue eyes that were carbon copies of her father’s. You couldn’t help but wonder what she got from her mother; Bo didn’t have any photos of her around the house.

“Will you come play with me?” She reaches for your hands, her skin slightly sticky from God knows what, but you don’t pull away; you just give her hand a small squeeze in return.

“Olive, sweetie, don’t bug her. Go play by yourself okay?” Bo says softly, a sort of sternness shining through his words. You lift your gaze to look at Bo, and you catch a glimpse of fondness that softens the lines of his face. Olivia whines, eyebrows furrowing as if she’s about to pitch a fit at Bo’s words.

“It’s okay Bo,” You smile at him, wide and radiant as you get to your feet without letting go of Olivia’s hand. “I don’t mind.”

Bo just nods his head with a bit of a shrug before turning his attention to your dad again. However, you don’t miss the way his eyes surveil you as Olivia drags you to the small backyard park that Bo and your dad had built together the previous summer.

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

It’s almost two weeks later when you find yourself bent over the laminate countertop, hands scrambling for purchase as you’re pushed forward again and again. You hadn’t even been here for five minutes, coming by only to grab some tools for your dad to borrow, wearing that same saffron dyed dress you had worn last time that you were over here. Bo’s worn trucker hat lost to the linoleum, jeans pushed only half way down his thighs, leaving his belt to jangle incessantly with every movement. The edge of the countertop digs into your hip bones saved only for the dress that’s bunched up over the curve of your ass. It does little to pad and protect you against the vicious rocking of Bo’s hips, but it’s better than nothing.

“Been thinkin’ about this sweet pussy every fuckin’ day,” Bo groans, grimey fingers curling into your hips and dragging you back against himself. He stays put for a moment, keeping your bodies pressed flushed together. “Been thinkin’ about knocking you up.”

The way your pussy flutters around his length is indecorous, the whimper you let out even more so. But it can’t be helped; hearing the filth that dripped from Bo’s lips always had that effect on you, but there was something about the way he said it that made your insides churn. The serious edge to his words that wasn’t there the times you had fucked prior, the way his words turned from a pipe dream to something that could be a reality.

“Does my baby like that idea?” Bo titters, the noise breathless and broken. A testament to the effect that this was having on him as well. “Like the thought of me fuckin’ a baby into you?”

“Fuck, Bo.” Your head drops, cheeks pressing into the chilled countertop. You don’t even pretend like this wasn’t doing it for you, hips rocking back against his to tempt him into staying true to your word. “Yeah, yeah fuck.”

He leans over you, the thin cotton t-shirt dragging along your sweat-slicked back as he pressed his lips to your neck, teeth catching the rosy skin. For a moment, you think that he was about to leave a mark to bloom against your skin, a small sign over ownership that would have you avoiding your parents’ home till the skin healed, and you could look them in the eyes once more.

“Gunna have to get you off that birth control of yours,” Bo murmurs, pressing a wet kiss to your cheek before he pulls away again, looming over you and admiring the way he has you splayed out like a wrecked mess in his kitchen. The windows open, and the back sliding door cracked so neighbors would be able to hear every little indecent noise that passed your lips like a mantra. You were glad for the arborvitae that lined the fence. It gave you some privacy, even if it wasn’t much, and it did ease your nerves considerably. “After that, maybe I’ll just keep you on my cock day ‘n night till I know it took.”

Your hands curl into fists at the thought, knuckles blanching under the force. The idea has your mind melting; nothing has ever sounded so perfect to you. It was almost insane how easily Bo got you cockdrunk, how easily he bent you to every whim that crossed his mind. But there was something about his smile, his scent, the way he could play you as if the two of you were made for each other that left you a strung out fanatic.

“Tell me how badly you want it,” Bo growls, nails cutting crescent shaped moons into your hips. If he wasn’t dragging you so perfectly through the trenches of pleasures, the pain might have brought you from the lust addled fog, but instead, it only shoves you down further. It made you feel like you were drowning, drowning in his words, the scent of sex that hung headily around you, the obscene noises that sounded like your own but were so far away, the way skin slapped against each other and the wet noises of your pussy dripping around his thick cock. It was all too much, and you knew it would only be a matter of time before your orgasm swept you pitilessly under the current. “Come on baby, if you wanna cum you gotta tell Daddy how badly you want it.”

A sob tears through your chest, thighs shaking as you’re forced onto the points of your toes with each thrust. Bo laughs above you cruelly, not once slowing down and allowing you a moment of reprieve to find your words. There was a satisfaction in seeing the way he strung you along, bringing you so close to the edge, and you knew that if you didn’t give in, give him what he wanted, he would pull away.

It wouldn’t have been the first time. There had been many times he’d pull out only to jerk himself off to completion and paint your pussy, or your panties, only to force you to wear his cum as a reminder. So you try with a renewed desperation, to try and formulate anything of sense before Bo had the chance to pull out of you.

“I-I fuck,” You stutter, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Every time the words were cocked and loaded on your tongue, the way he brushed against that spot within you had them rolling off your tongue in the form of drool. If it didn’t feel so fucking good, it would’ve been beyond humiliating.

“You look fuckin’ pathetic like this,” Bo sneers, hips stuttering. You knew he was close, his words coming out a sharp rasp as each thrust was punctuated with a guttural growl. “Just an empty headed slut made to be knocked up. S’okay baby, Daddy will take care of you.”

That’s what sends you over the edge, cunt clenching down like a vice around the cock plowing into you. It must have been good because you’re distantly aware of the sound of Bo choking on a noise within his throat. And God, do you wish that you were more aware and not floating listlessly through the waves of pleasure so you could see just how wrecked Bo was. You wanted to acknowledge the way graying brown hair clung to his forehead, cheeks flushed as he gritted his teeth. It was always one of your favorite sights. A low moan tumbles from the two of you at the feeling of warmth filling you, the gentle pulsing of his cock as he empties himself within you.

The two of you remained like that for a moment, and you silently wished it would never end as you tried to quell your racing heart and the rapid movement of your chest. Then, when Bo begins to pull out, you whine, but he only snickers, fingers moving from your hips to dance along your folds, running through the slick and cum that dripped out.

“Ya mean it?” You whine softly, pressing back as he pushes cum back inside of you.

“Mean what, baby?” Bo muses, fingers moving at a taunting pace. You crane your neck a bit to stare up at Bo, catching the post sex bliss that overlays his face, the smug look that only makes your stomach twist, thighs clenching.

“Are you going to knock me up?” Your tongue flicks out over your lower lip, eyes fluttering at the feeling of his thick fingers stretching you open once more. Bo groans low in his throat at the thought, and you peek your eye open to catch sight of the twisted grin on his face and the dark intent that swirled within blue eyes.

“Course I am,” Bo says matter of factly as he pulls his fingers out of you, reaching down to grab the lace panties you wore and pull them back up over you. With a pat on your ass, he begins to tuck himself back into his pants, walking over to the fridge. “Would be a shame to let that pretty pussy a’ yours to go to waste.”

[polyhexian]

Functioning labels aren't even limited to autism or the things people traditionally associate them with... It literally means your ability to function. Are you able to take care of yourself. Are you able to function at a state of a reasonable quality of life without significant help? I'M low functioning. Me! Me, I have been given in writing a statement I am low functioning depressed. Or at least at the time I was, I might be doing a little better now. But maybe not. Literally it is "I am not able to function at a level comparable to my peers, my level of ability to function like my peers is very low and I need a lot of assistance to keep up and stay safe and healthy and happy and maintain a good quality of life." That's what it means.

My uncle told me this story when I was younger that I've never been able to forget. It lodged itself in my brain like a brand and I've never shaken it. I love my uncle, he is a good man, but he's had so much trauma in his life and he's made so many poor decisions... But he's never been anything but loving and kind to me and I love him so much. And he told me once when we were talking alone about needing help-- because he's been homeless a few times and he was looking at it again, and he didn't want to accept help, or a room in our house, he didn't want to be a burden.

He has some kind of learning disability, though he's never seen a therapist in his life so it remains undiagnosed, but when he was a teenager it was the early 70s, and the word they used was "retarded." Up and until that point he had been in normal classes and sure, he was failing them all the time, but they were normal. But finally in high school they slapped the word retarded on him and moved him to the special needs class. And he tells me this with a distant look in his eye- that that classroom was at the end of a hallway with no other doors, and if you walked down that hallway everyone knew where you were going. Everyone knew something was wrong with you. Everyone knew what you were- "retarded."

He never walked down that hallway. Not once. He dropped out of school freshman year and never graduated.

The stigma of it, the soul crushing misery of having people look at him differently, of not just being lazy or a fuck-up but "retarded" was too much. And how could I ever blame him? He's not a stupid man. Not even now with all the damage he's had, he's bright and quick witted and like me, if you give him a puzzle he will figure it out. Hand him a computer and he'll figure out how to use it. Give him something broken and he will find out how to fix it. He learns by doing, but you can't always just tell him how to do something and have him figure it out. I learn the same way. I flunked out of college twice. That hallway was so frightening to my uncle that decades later, in his fifties, he still refuses to go to a psychiatrist and get labeled again.

My brother cannot take care of himself. He cannot be left alone. He cannot wash himself, feed himself, dress himself. I've spent a significant amount of time with his classmates as you may imagine. I've spent time with a great many children and young adults who can move nothing but their eyes, who cannot form new memories, who communicate only in wails and grunts, and the reality is that these people need completely different kinds of assistance than high functioning people. They need medical help, constant supervision for safety, they need entirely different forms of entertainment and ways to engage with others. Do you know how much a wheelchair costs? A tablet that helps someone speak? A smart board???

When I was little I went to pta meetings. Chronically adultified to the extreme, truly. But when I was in middle school and my brother in elementary school the county decided it would be better to consolidate all the special needs programs at different schools to one school. They were building a new one and this one they'd make super state of the art. The idea, they said, was to create the best program possible and have all the kids go to it.

I thought about that hallway.

So you're just taking all of the low functioning children and quarantining them somewhere away from everyone else? You're going to take them from their local schools where they may have friends and send them somewhere twenty miles away?

They told us they had three levels of programs, the highest being "severe and profound." My brother was severe and profound. My mother stood up at the PTA meeting and asked, what is the severe and profound track going to offer? What are you going to teach my son?

The school district representative looked her dead in the eye and said "you know, how to eat and breathe and stuff."

You're going to teach my seven year old brother to eat and breathe and stuff? Thanks. How generous.

They went through with it anyway. Built the fancy new three million dollar school. Put ten thousand dollar smart boards in the room and all kinds of fancy equipment. Three days before school opened they ran a fire drill and realized they had fucking stupidly put this room on the second floor, so evacuating students if there was a fire meant they would need to put students in wheelchairs on cots with two teachers to each child carrying them down the stairs. Not safe. Not feasible.

They gave the room with the smart boards to a regular third grade class and moved the special needs kids downstairs into what had been a phys Ed room. We ended up suing that school once for discrimination and two more times threatening to sue and settling out of court.

This world beats it into you that it is BAD to need more help than anyone else. It is shameful and revolting and people want more than anything to shove ugly disability out of sight and out of mind. We don't want to think about it. We don't want to deal with it. Inconvenient. Put them in a classroom down the hall so the other kids don't have to see them.

You should have just gotten help. It should have been easy. What do you need to improve your functioning level and quality of life? And then be given that. But that's not what they want. They want to make sure you are forced to do anything you can to get out of that hallway and be as normal as possible. Be something they can stand looking at and pretend doesn't exist.

Disability activism online talks a big game. But who cares about my families multiple discrimination lawsuits? About the abuse and suffering every authority has put us through for daring to bring my brother in public? The stigma of hallways?

It's all too ugly. Inconvenient. I've had high functioning people give him the same looks people who aren't disabled at all have. I've seen the discomfort in people's eyes when they say they don't want to be labeled as autistic because it means people will think they're like HIM. A terrible thing to be thought of as. The bitterness that has built in me is beyond anything I have the words to vocalize. I get angry. I get mean. I feel full of venom and bile and fire. I want to stand on the table in front of apathetic social workers and scream at them fuck you! Fuck you fuck you fuck you, help me! Give him something! Help me take care of my little brother or let me kick you to death to get out my fucking frustration!! Fuck you!

Actually fuck it it's 1am and I'm ready to- well, not trauma dump, but I'm gonna be mad about shit that's not polite to talk about in public or whatever. Hi everyone welcome to my transformers shit post blog

Anyway. So most people are not aware I have siblings because I never talk about them and that's because I haven't willingly spoken to my sister in seven years because she's an abusive narcissist and out of her fucking mind violent. But that's not important I bitch about her lying about having fuckin lupus despite the fact it's already killed enough of our family as it is. My brother I talk about even less and you know why??? There's literally no way to talk about him with modern social politics without pissing someone off. My brother is six years younger than me, low functioning down's syndrome/autistic. He's 23 now, nonverbal. I changed diapers until I moved out of my parents house at 17. 24/7 supervision, radio ankle monitor for safety, blablabla. He's visibly disabled. You look at him and immediately know he's disabled so like. I can't even begin to tell you the amount of places I've been kicked out of with him

Every time I see people get into fucking identity politics about like "low/high functioning" hurting their feelings it makes my lip curl, and I know I'm irrationally mad about it but like. What else am I supposed to be? Chill? Did you know "disability" is only for people who weren't born disabled? You only get disability if you're able to work and lose that ability. If you were born disabled? Go fuck yourself. There's programs and whatever but they all fucking suck donkey shit. My family didn't get a cent from the government to help take care of a severely disabled child until he was fucking nine. My brother is deaf AND blind. Like. Come on.

And finally when we did it's still like. Fucking nothing. At one point it was like... I dunno, 600 a month plus some shit like boxes of useless bargain bin diapers? Most importantly we got a certain amount of hours from like a medical care facility. Like, special babysitters, essentially. Fifteen hours a week maybe. Like great thanks that's super helpful. I was scrubbing shit off the walls when I was twelve. Thanks for the fucking help. My brother is difficult and strong and can be occasionally violent when he doesn't get his way. We went through every goddamn care worker in town. I remember at 15, after my dad left, my mom was like. Too depressed to do shit and so it fell to me, terminally adultified child. And because my brother is so difficult the hourly pay for working with him was higher than other clients, so their workers were always super interested in working with him. But I'd answer the door and I'm a tired angry fifteen year old and I know they're going to know the second they look at him why he pays so well and that it's still not worth it to them. So I used to open the door and say hi, my parents aren't coming to meet you, I'm in charge and I know how to forge my mom's signature. I'm tired and I don't want to waste my time with a bullshit interview. Come in, meet him, and if you decide this isn't going to work within like five minutes, that's great, fine, I get it, whatever. I'll sign off on your sheet that you were here for the full hour, so you can just go home and get paid for coming and I don't have to play grown up pretend bullshit for an hour of my time. My mom HATED that I did this but like nine times out of ten they left after fifteen minutes. They weren't worth my fucking time.

Eventually we did legitimately. Straight up run out of people willing to work with him. The company didn't send us anyone new because there wasn't anyone and because we didn't use the fifteen hours a week we got for two weeks in a row the government cancelled his entire benefit system and put him back on the waiting list. The one he was on for nine years, remember? We had to sue them over it to try and keep from losing the little they gave us and the company was so fucking butthurt about it that they called cps on us. Childish bullshit.

I've been kicked out of restaurants and movie theatres and stores and fuckin. Roller rinks or arcades or whatever kinds of places exist because he's disabled and scary and a lot of work and loud and messy and people don't want him around. It makes me bitter and angry and venomous. You wouldn't even recognize me around him. I know I can be a bitch on the internet sometimes but irl I'm soft and timid a lot of the time. I don't like talking to strangers. But you drop me in a room with my brother and I turn into a snarling fucking animal and the second I sense disgust I'm going to make a fucking scene. I've yelled at people in restaurants. What the fuck are you staring at?? I'm so sorry, is my brother enjoying his meal disturbing you? Good thing I don't give a shit. I'll embarrass myself and everyone else in the room without giving a single shit. One time I literally stormed on stage during a high schools talent show for disabled students to scream at a teacher backstage. No subtlety. No politeness. I stood up and I climbed up on the stage and stormed through the curtain. I can't fucking control myself. The anger has built up over the decades and it spills out. How fucking dare you.

And what am I supposed to do with that? That's not inspirational. It's not polite. It's not a nice story. It's "I love my brother but he's incredibly difficult and the government and society as a whole has gone so far out of their way to make keeping him safe and happy extraordinarily difficult that I'm always ready to get in a fight over it with anyone who gives me an excuse." People don't like stories like that. I don't want custody of him when my parents die and every single qualified care facility and group home in the state has refused him because he's categorized as "dangerous" because he can be physically difficult. So he just gets completely abandoned by the world who says wow that sucks but tough shit. Maybe just die about it?

I literally can't post photos of me with my brother without people thinking I'm fucking like baiting or whatever the fuck, like, white knighting my disabled brother for sympathy. As if I'm not just memeing with my family or some shit. And then I can't complain or I'm an ableist. It's easier if I just shut up and don't talk about it, isn't it?

Internet disability politics doesn't and has never given a single rancid shit about low functioning disabled people. The absolute zero sum most at risk people in society. What am I supposed to do when my parents die? I literally cannot take care of him physically or financially and he can't leave the state without losing benefits. I don't live there anymore. I have to uproot everything and go home? Or what, turn him over to the state so he can deal with the, what, 65% chance of sexual abuse that happens to nonverbal low functioning disabled people? Be fed dog kibble and left to rot in a piss stained mattress for days? I've seen these places. He can't talk so they can do anything they want to him. No one is going to stick up for him. No one cares.

It boils my fucking blood just to think about. I don't want to hear any woke ass takes about functioning labels from someone on Twitter if they've never materially contributed to the well being of a low functioning disabled person in their fucking life. Those terms aren't for you asshole, they're for them, because they need more help and protection. Tired of trying to keep up with the politics and labels placed upon my family member by people with no stake in the suffering at the end of the stick they're poking him with. It's all so easy in theoreticals but what if "what happens to my brother if my parents die" is a question that's loomed over your head for a decade without an answer? I'll listen to your thoughts on the matter when you Paypal me ten dollars so I can send him some more scarves to stim with.

People hate messy uninspiring stories so they would rather you just shut up and stop reminding them about it. Literally I think if I still lived down there and one more restaurant manager asked me to leave I would fucking stab them

[kpop---scenarios]

Torn Apart (2 Final)

Pairing: Surprise! x Reader

Warning: Smut, Sadness, Angst Maybe? Mean People

Word Count: 5.4k

It had been weeks. 

Weeks of sobbing into your pillow, weeks of feeling like things were going to get better, until you found the most insignificant thing that belonged to Chanyeol and you broke down all over again. You missed him. You missed his touch, his warmth, his smile, the way he made you laugh when you were sad. You missed it all. You were broken, and it was all Chanyeol's fault. 

Until you scrolled through Instagram, and saw pictures of him with Maya, that bitch. You had never hated anyone in your life until you had met her. You couldn't even begin to fathom what even slightly redeeming qualities Chanyeol saw in her, but apparently there was something to that wench.

You were curled on your couch in the fetal position as you cried at the ending of Strong Girl Bong Soon. You wished you had a love like that. The way An Minhyuk loved Bong Soon was the relationship you wanted, the one you would strive for. He loved her so much and you just wanted to be loved by someone like that. 

You groan loudly as your doorbell rings, and then whoever pounds on your door. You didn't want visitors, you didn't care who it was, you wanted to hermit. 

"What?" You yelled from the other side of the door. 

"Y/N, let me in." You hear from the other side. You recognized the voice immediately. 

"Baekhyun, I look like a troll. Kindly leave." You sigh. 

"Y/N, if your trolly ass doesn't let me in, I will break down your door." He threatens, which makes you laugh for the first time in days. You both knew he would never be able to do that, and he would likely end up hurting himself. 

"Baek, you would break your leg." You say, pulling the door open. On the other side was a sympathetic Baekhyun, who had tissues, ice cream, chocolate and a bag full of movies. You smile at his kindness. "You know I have Netflix right?" 

"Shut the fuck up and move, this shit is cold." He barks, moving past you and into your kitchen. "Look, I have all the necessities. We will get you through this. Because I for one, cannot stand the sight of Mayeol and I want to gouge my eyes out, and I need someone to do it with." 

"I don't understand how that has anything to do with me." You say, grabbing two spoons.

"Sehun is gone, he's so in love with those two, hes bordering being a psychopath, Jongdae and his wife are just tolerating, Suho, Kai and Kyungsoo are avoiding them like the plague and Minseok and Lay have been MIA, so you're my last hope, Y/N." 

"I really don't want to talk about him, Baek." You admit, the hole in your heart somehow feels larger than before. 

"That's fine, I'll stop, let's start a movie." He suggests, grabbing a random one out of his bag. 

And for the next few hours, that's all you guys did. You watched movies, making comments, laughing and you genuinely had a good time with him. It had been so long since you actually felt happy and you were grateful to Baekhyun for bringing at least a little joy back into your life. 

Until he left, and you were alone again. All the feelings came rushing back, except they hurt a little less this time. You didn't miss him quite as much. 

** 

The next day, at the same time, your doorbell rang again. You open the door, your eyes puffy and bloodshot and you see Baekhyun standing there again, a new flavor of ice cream in hand, a new kind of chocolate, and a new bag of movies. This time he said nothing to you, instead pushed his way past you and through the door, setting everything down on your living room table as he popped in the movie. You smiled to yourself before turning around to join him, it felt nice to be cared about, and the fact that he was going out of his way to do this for you, and make you feel better. You truly appreciated Baekhyun. 

As he sat there and watched the movie, you watched him. The way his eyes lit up at a part of the movie he enjoyed, the face he made when he took a bite of his ice cream, the wrinkle he had in his nose when there was a cheesy scene. You never truly noticed how handsome Baekhyun was until now. His distinct jawline, his large hands, his toned body, you briefly.. very briefly began to wonder how large his..

"No Y/N, no. Do not go there with your existing bestfriend." 

You quickly shake off the thought, moving your eyes to the TV screen, trying to focus. 

"How are you feeling today?" Baekhyun asks, sliding his phone back into his pants pocket. 

"A bit better, I guess." You answer. Before Baekhyun could say anything there was another knock at the door. "That's good." He smiles, standing up. "There are some people who wanna see you." He says, opening the door. 

Minseok, Suho and Kyungsoo file through the door, looking at you with pity as they all sit, surrounding you.  

"Hiiiii." Suho pouts, protruding his bottom lip. "How are we feeling today?" 

"Um, hi." You laugh. "I'm fine." 

"Oh good, so we can go." Kyungsoo pipes up, standing up and walking towards the door. 

"Sit." Minseok sighs, pointing back at the seat. Kyungsoo rolls his eyes, shuffling back to his spot and flopping down. 

"She's fine, Chanyeol is fine, so why are we here? Everyone is fine." He groans. 

"Have you seen him? Is he fine?" You hesitantly ask. You weren't even sure if you wanted to know. 

"Oh he's more than fine." Kyungsoo groans. "He and Maya are all over each other all the time. It's honestly nauseating. Like I want to be able to eat my sandwich without hearing your girlfriend moan when you kiss her." He gags. 

You bite your bottom lip as you slowly nod your head, tears welling in your eyes. These were most definitely details you did not need to hear about your ex and the girl he cheated on you with. All the men whip their heads to look at you, who now had your head hanging low as your shoulders shaked. They all look back at Kyungsoo, with only one speaking up.  

"That's it." Baekhyun growls. "Kyungsoo, get out." He spits, pointing to the door. 

"What did I do?" Kyungsoo asks, innocently. Baekhyun rolls his eyes, looking at you, softly whimpering into the sleeves of your sweater. 

"Out. Now." Baekhyun says, giving him the middle finger before flinching as Kyungsoo stands up, whispering "Don't hurt me."

"Don't listen to him." Minseok sighs. "Kyungsoo has zero social cues, he also could not read a room if his life depended on it." 

As Kyungsoo opened the door to leave, in rushed Lay, who looked at the man leaving and just nodded his head, realizing he had probably said something rude and was asked to leave. It wasn't the first time and would not be the last either. 

"Y/N." Lay breathes. "How do you feel about tall, muscular men who sing?" He asks. 

"I do enjoy them. Why?" You ask. 

"I have a friend from the hospital.. I think you two would get along really well. He's in his third year of surgery residency and is looking to date. I may have shown him your picture and he instantly said yes." He tells you. 

You look around the room, Suho and Minseok are nodding enthusiastically, while Baekhyun sits with his arms crossed against his chest, and a pouty look on his face. 

"What do you think?" You ask Baekhyun. He looks up at you, his face softening immediately. 

"I uhh, it's up to you. Yanno, if you're into muscular, tall men.." he mumbles.

"You know what? Sure, yes, I will. Chanyeol and Maya are out there living their best lives while I'm sitting here sulking, mourning a love that clearly didn't mean as much to him. So yes I will go out with him." You announce, perking up already. "When?" 

"Tonight." Lay says. "More specifically, an hour." 

"I need to get ready." You smile, jumping from your seat to rush to your room. You slowly peak your head around the corner, softly smiling at your friends. "Thank you, you guys. You've all really helped me these last weeks. I greatly appreciate you all." You finish, heading back into your room to quickly throw yourself together. 

By the time you were done, you had 15 minutes to spare, and you were damn proud of what you accomplished in the last 45 minutes. You showered and shaved to become a hairless human from the eyelashes down, you managed to get the knots out of your hair and it looked in decent shape, as well as hide the semi-permanent redness of your eyes with a lot of makeup. You almost didn't recognize yourself in the mirror when you looked. You didn't see the heartbroken girl anymore, you saw someone confident, hot and worthy of a great love. 

Stepping out into the living room you blush at all the 'oohs and ahhs' from your friends. 

Except for Baekhyun. 

When you looked at him, his eyes shined and for some reason it made your heartbeat a little faster. You watched his eyes trail up and down your body, seemingly taking in every curve, every inch of you. When he notices you staring, he clears his throat and looks away. "You look prettyish." He mumbles as he walks away, there's a knock at the door. Baekhyun is the one to answer and looks up at the tall man. 

"You must be.." he begins, moving out of the way, letting the man walk in. 

"Hi." He smiles at you. "I'm Matthew." He says, holding out his hand. 

"Hi Matthew." You grin. "Y/N." You finish, introducing yourself. 

"It's really nice to meet you. You look phenomenal." He says, holding your hand up to spin you around. You can't help but let out a loud laugh as a blush spreads across your cheeks. 

"Thank you." You whisper. "Shall we?" 

He waves to Lay and everyone else before taking your arm in his and leading you out the door. You left three excited men behind you and one who felt annoyed but didn't quite know why. 

** 

You hadn't laughed so hard until tears rolled down your cheeks and you held your stomach for a very long time. You honestly were surprised at how much you and Matthew had in common. You both enjoyed the same type of music, food, and pastimes. You had yet to meet someone who loved the same authors as you, who enjoyed doing your favorite activities and who genuinely seemed like a great person but here he was, sitting right in front of you at this nice restaurant. 

"I have to admit something." Matthew begins. Your stomach drops as you feel like he's going to tell you he's married or has a girlfriend, something that's going to make you lose trust in men, again. 

"Go on." You say, forcing a smile before taking a sip of your drink. 

"I really like you." He grins. "It's insane, I have never met someone I had so much in common with until tonight." 

"I was just thinking the same thing." You laugh, feeling relieved at his confession. You liked Matthew, he seemed as though he would be good for you and treat you right, although you thought that Chanyeol would do the same and look how that turned out. 

Beep 

Beep 

Beep 

Matthew's pager beeps incessantly. He takes it from the waistband of his pants, checking the page and stands up abruptly. "I'm so sorry." He sighs. "I have to go, there was an accident and I'm needed in the OR." He explains. 

"Go." You say, waving your hands to emphasize. 

"I had a wonderful time Y/N, and I hope I get to see you again." He grins. He places down a few hundred bills on the table before kissing your hand, and with a wink he was off and your heart was pumping fast as red spreads across your cheeks. 

Oh boy. 

Your blush is still present as you walk through the door of your apartment. You see Baekhyun sitting on your couch with his arms crossed as he watches a show, not even acknowledging your presence. 

"Why are you still here?" You ask, tossing your purse on the chair. 

"I wanna hear all about Matthew." He mimics, rolling his eyes. "How was your date?" 

"It was really nice. We have a lot in common, which is strange. He seems really nice and we get along amazingly. He was paged into surgery so it ended early." You tell him. "So cool." 

"Oh wow, surgery huh?" Baekhyun says, nodding his head. "Did I tell you I'm auditioning for a band?" He smiles. 

"Are you really?" You ask, a little shocked. 

"Maybe." He says, clearing his throat, turning back to the show. 

You sit beside him, you dress riding up just a little to expose your thigh. You're focused on the show, barely realizing that Baekhyun has now rested his hand on your bare thigh, his thumb lightly rubbing the same spot. 

Why did you feel butterflies? Why was your pussy throbbing? It's probably just friendly, there's no way Baekhyun has feelings for you. 

Right?

As the show played on, your eyes became increasingly droopy, feeling the exhaustion and excitement of today finally catching up with you. Your eyes slowly close as you lean your head back onto the couch. 

You weren't sure when it happened, but you woke up, what you're assuming is a few hours later with your head on Baekhyun's lap while he gently rubbed your head, running his fingers through your hair. Your body shivered at the gentle sensation and you closed your eyes once again, feeling safe and happy as you dozed off. 

** 

When you woke up the next morning, you were laying on the couch, alone with a blanket draped over you. Your eyes searched your apartment and there was no sign of Baekhyun.  You had no idea when he had left but a part of you felt a little hurt that he left without saying goodbye to you. You rolled yourself off the couch and shuffled into your room, changing your clothes to something more comfortable. 

When you were done you made your way to the kitchen to find food when your front door opened. In walked Baekhyun with a large bag from your favorite food place. 

"You didn't." You grin. "It's so far away." 

"I did, and it was worth it to see the look on your face." He laughs, setting the bag down on the table. 

The two of you sit down, and have breakfast together and chat. You hadn't realized that Baekhyun actually had a lot in common with you as well. You didn't know why the two of you had never talked about these things but you felt like it was a crazy coincidence that two men match with you so well. Although you knew Baekhyun's feelings were strictly platonic, there was no way that he felt anything romantically for you. 

"I gotta go to work, but we'll hang out later, if you're up for it?" He asks, throwing his garbage away. 

"Of course." You smile. You look in his eyes, his beautiful brown eyes and you just want to melt. You liked Baekhyun, alot. Maybe it was just from how good he's been treating you lately, or maybe the feelings were real, you would never know because you were going to focus on changing your feelings for Baekhyun to feelings for Matthew, someone you knew you actually had a chance with. 

** 

Later that day you were doing some work on your computer for the company you work for, luckily you're able to do your work from home, giving you plenty of time to be free during the day for activities. You're brought out of your zone by a text from Matthew, asking you if you wanted to grab a late lunch around 2pm, and immediately your mood changed, and you happily replied that you would love to. 

At 1:50pm, you sat at the restaurant, a drink in front of you while you waited for Matthew. Seeing him walk through the door, your heart did a mini dance as he smiled at you, heading towards the table you had already gotten. 

"Hey there beautiful." He grins, sitting across from you. 

"Hi." You giggle. "How has your day been?" 

"Busy and stressful, but that's all been forgotten now that I have you in front of me." He says. You smile widely, burying your head in your hands. He was so sweet, and you didn't know how to react to it. After the two of you order, you're in the middle of a conversation about a movie you had each recently watched, when out of the corner of your eye, you notice someone familiar. You look over and at a table that was too close for your liking sat Baekhyun, Chanyeol and Maya. Your attitude, demeanour and mood completely changed when you noticed them. You could feel the tears welling in your eyes as you looked away. You look at Matthew who instantly looks concerned. 

"What's wrong? Did I say something?" He asks, leaning in closely to whisper to you. 

"T-that's my ex.. and the girl he chose over me, and his best friend who I'm still friends with." You whisper, nodding your head towards them.

Matthew discreetly looks over and notices the blonde man looking in your direction, pain in his eyes from the moment he saw you. 

"Look at me." Matthew whispers. You look up at him, trying to control the tears. "That boy is an idiot for giving you up. You are one in a million. You're smart, funny, beautiful, caring and an all around amazing person to be around. Don't give them anymore of your tears, princess. They don't deserve them, and you don't deserve to cry over them." He smiles. 

You sit up, taking a deep breath, smiling at the man across from you, staring at his beautiful smile. You glance over to the table and see Chanyeol staring at you, sadness in his eyes while Maya glares at you and Baekhyun, he stares at you with what seems like a look of anger. He glares in your direction, his face like stone and you had no idea what you did to make him so mad at you. 

"Would you like to go somewhere else?" Matthew asks. 

You nod your head, knowing you didn't want to be in the same restaurant as Mayeol, it was bad enough to have to be in the same city as them. Matthew grabs the check, escorting you out, his hand hovering over your backside as you walk out, the feeling of eyes watching you burning into your back as you exit the restaurant.  You and Matthew stand outside your door, and he smiles at you. "I'm sorry about the date." He sighs. 

"It wasn't your fault. If anything I should be sorry." You say. 

"You did nothing wrong." He tells you. "I have to get back to the hospital now, but I'll call you." He says, leaning down he presses his lips to yours quickly before pulling away and saying goodbye. 

You walk into your apartment, feeling a little confused. That didn't go how you imagined it at all. As you're trying to get out of your sundress, there's a knock at the door before someone walks in. You turn around and see Baekhyun standing there, watching you. 

"You looked pretty comfortable and intimate with what's his name." He blurts out, walking towards you. He stands closely behind you, you can feel his breath on your neck as he pulls down the zipper of your dress. 

"Yeah well you looked pretty comfortable with fucking Maya and Chanyeol." You retort, trying to storm away from him. Your dress slips off your body, landing on the floor. Baekhyun follows you, reaching out to grab your wrist. He spins you around to face him. He pulls your body closer to his. 

"What do you want?" He asks. You don't answer, your lips parted as you try to form a sentence. Baekhyun's eyes drop down to your lips. He licks his lips and sighs. You can feel his breath, so close to you, almost kissing you. "What do you want from me, Y/N?" He asks. 

Your heart is practically beating out of your chest. You look into his eyes, one word on the tip of your tongue. 

You. Just say it. You want him. Tell him. 

But you say nothing. 

Baekhyun sighs. "That's what I thought." He says,  moving away from you and picking up your dress from the floor. He hands it to you, leaning in to press his lips against your temple. "Call me when you know what you want." He says, walking away from you and out the door. 

What did that mean? Did he want you like you wanted him? Why couldn't you have just told him right then and there? 

You were scared. You were scared of rejection, you were scared he didn't mean it, maybe his feelings towards you weren't real. But then again, you would never know unless you talked to him. 

Later that night you laid in your bed, thinking about Baekhyun. You couldn't sleep, so you grabbed your purse and your keys, drive aimlessly around town. A little while later, you glance at the clock that reads 2am, you park your car and you pull out your phone and call him. You felt like you were going to vomit as the phone rang. 

"Hello?" A groggy voice answered. 

"You." You whisper through the speaker. "I want you."  

"Y/N." He breathes. 

"Open the door, Baekhyun." You whisper. 

You can hear him get out of bed and stomp towards the front door. He pulls it open and there you are, your phone pressed against your ear, wearing a nightshirt and shorts. 

"I want you." You say again, pulling the phone away from your ear. 

Baekhyun pulls you inside, slamming the door behind you before pinning you against the front door. 

"Fuck it." He groans, crashing his lips against yours, pulling your body in closer to his. His hands roaming your body as he slides his tongue into your mouth. His hands move under your shirt and up your torso, cupping a bare breast. He groans into the kiss as he pinches your hard nipple, rolling it between his fingers. He presses his crotch into your leg, allowing you to feel his hard cock pushing against his boxers. 

You reach your hand down, sliding it into his waistband, grabbing his cock and slowly pumping, making his knees buckle. 

"Fuck." He murmurs, breaking the kiss. He leans his head into your neck, placing small kisses as you stroke his cock. 

Suddenly he stands up straight, pulling your hand from inside his boxers. He grabs your hand and leads you to his bedroom. 

"Take off your clothes." He growls. 

You maintain eye contact as you slip your shirt off your body, dropping it to the floor and the shimmy off your shorts, letting them pool around your ankles. You stand there naked in front of Baekhyun who takes in every curve and crevasse of your body. 

"Get on the bed." He whispers. You move to the bed, slowly climbing on and laying on your back. 

"So fucking beautiful." He moans, crawling on top of you. "I just wanna be inside you." He whispers. You nod your head, giving him all the consent he needs. 

Baekhyun spits on his hand, pumping his cock. He lifts your legs over his shoulder before lining him up with your entrance. He pushes himself into you, stretching your pussy out, making you cry out loudly. 

It had been so long for you, you forgot what it felt like to be fucked. Your hands grip the bed sheets as Baekhyun slides his cock in and out of you slowly. 

"How do you want it, baby?" He asks, moving slowly still. 

"Faster." You moan. "Fuck me Baekhyun." 

His eyes become dark after hearing your words. His hands wrap around your ankles as he starts thrusting harder into you, the sound of skin slapping fills the room.

"Oh god." You cry out, your hands cupping your breasts, pinching your nipples as he pumps his cock into you. 

Baekhyun releases one of your legs, placing his thumb between your lips to rub your clit. He rubs in circles, making you clench around him. 

"Just like that." You cry out as you buck your hips. You knew you were going to cum soon, you hadn't had an orgasm since Chanyeol left. 

"Fuck." Baekhyun groans. 

"I'm gonna cum." You scream as he fucks you harder, and continues to rub you. 

Your orgasm hits you, making you scream out in pleasure, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you tighten around Baekhyun once again. 

He groans loudly, suddenly cumming, shooting his load inside of you, breathing heavily as he works through his orgasm. 

"Holy fuck." He sighs, pulling out of you. He lays next to you, and you snuggle into him, not caring about the mess, just being completely and utterly happy in the moment.

**

"So.." Baekhyun starts off the next morning, as you lay in his bed, tangled in his sheets. You have one leg and one arm sprawled across him as you snuggle in closer to him. "What about Matthew?" He asks.  

"I called him yesterday after you left, and I told him I didn't think things were going to work out, but I would like to remain friends." You explain. 

"And he was fine with that?" He asks. 

"He asked if there was someone else." You sigh. "I told him I wasn't sure, but I hoped and he wished me luck." 

"I didn't like you seeing him." Baekhyun admits. "It hurt but I felt like I couldn't do anything." He says. 

"Why?" You ask. 

"Because.. Chanyeol is my best friend and you were his." He tells you. 

"Chanyeol made his decision, and he chose Maya. I'm free to date whoever I want, and I want you." You whisper. 

"Oh baby girl." Baekhyun growls. "You have no idea what you do to me." He whispers, rolling over on top of you, pressing his lips to yours. You wrap your arms around him, pulling him in closer to you, never having felt so wanted or loved. 

** 

It has been a few months of you and Baekhyun dating, and you've kept it under wraps for the most part, wanting to stay in your little bubble of happiness. But now your friends were getting suspicious and you felt like it was time to tell them. And what other perfect time to tell them then at a dinner party that everyone is attending. 

That night you and Baekhyun had brought a spinach and artichoke dip that you made together and it was the best thing ever. You told Jongdae and his wife the news first, and they were both extremely happy for the both of you. 

Next, Minseok, Suho, Kyungsoo, Kai and Lay were told and they were all happy for you two, except Lay who was disappointed that things didn't work with Matthew, but he was happy that you were happy. 

You all sat around the dinner table when Chanyeol, Sehun and Maya walked in. Things instantly got tense and quiet the minute they entered the room. They hadn't noticed you yet and you could feel the knots forming in your stomach. 

"Hey guys." Chanyeol smiled, looking around the room and then his eyes landed on you and his smile dropped. 

"Hi friends." Maya chirps up, not realizing you were there until Sehun pointed it out, quite loudly and rudely. 

"Why is she here?" He asks, nodding his head towards you. 

"Because she's our friend." Jongdae pipes up, glare at Sehun.

"It's just weird." Maya comments, sitting down at the table. You ball your hands into fists under the table. Baekhyun reaches under the table, grabbing your hand to calm you down, showing you he's there and has your back. 

"It's not weird, actually." Baekhyun pipes up. "What's weird is coming to a gathering when you know no one here likes you. That's weird." He says, looking at Maya. 

"Baek." Chanyeol sighs. "She's my girlfriend." He says, as if that's a good enough reason. 

"Okay." Baekhyun says. "And she's mine." He says, nodding towards you. "So tell your girl to show some respect." 

"You're what?" Chanyeol asks, staring at you and Baekhyun, not even acknowledging the fact that Maya is sitting there with her mouth open and offended. "You're dating my ex-girlfriend?" 

"I am." Baekhyun says, not caring about Chanyeol's reaction anymore. 

"You.. you can't do that." He says. 

"And why not?" Baekhyun wonders. "You left her. You chose that over this amazing woman. You have no right to be angry here. You broke her, tore her apart and I'm putting the pieces back together." 

"I don't want her here." Maya pouts. 

"And no one wants you here." You chime in. You were tired of her and she had only been here for a few minutes. 

"Chanyeol." She whines, nudging him but he's still not paying attention to her, only looking at you and Baekhyun. 

"So.. what did you guys bring?" Lay asks, nodding towards their dish.

"Buffalo chicken dip." Maya says, with a smile.

You burst out laughing, rolling your eyes. "You mean you're still making the recipe that Chanyeol and I made together?" You ask with a smile on your face. 

Maya's smile instantly drops, looking at you with disgust. "Chanyeol." She yells. 

"What?" He snaps, turning to look at her. 

"Do something." She whines. 

"You don't have to do anything, man. We're gonna go. Thanks for having us, Jongdae. It's been interesting." Baekhyun says. He looks at you and holds out his hand. "Ready?" He asks you. You smile at him, taking his hand and walking out, hand in hand with the man who made you the happiest you've been. 

** 

A few days later you're in your apartment, singing and dancing as you clean up the place. You no longer missed Chanyeol, his name no longer brought pain to your heart, seeing things that reminded you of him no longer made you cry. You had Baekhyun now, and he treated you like a queen. 

You're walking past your front door when you hear a faint knock. You open it slightly and see an exhausted looking Chanyeol standing on the other side. 

"Can we talk?" He asks. 

You didn't want to hear what he had to say, but you decided to be nice and let him in. 

"What?" You ask, sitting on your couch as he stands in front of you. 

"I fucked up." He blurts out. "I should have never chosen Maya over you. I didn't realize what I was doing at the time, Y/N, please forgive me. I miss you. I miss us. We were great together." He breathes. 

You're shocked. You had spent weeks crying over him, wishing for him to come to you and say these words to you but now it was too late. 

"You're a little too late now." You say to him.

"I know you're with Baekhyun, but I had you first." He says. 

You scoff at him. "How dare you? How could you come here months after you left me for Maya and beg for me back when I'm finally happy again? It took a long time for me to be okay. Baekhyun has been there for me, he was the one who helped put me back together. You chose Maya. You made your bed." You yell. "Get out Chanyeol." 

"Y/N please." He begs. 

"No, you need to leave. I don't want you. I don't love you anymore." You tell him.

Chanyeol walks out the door, looking back at you with tears in his eyes. You felt no remorse for him. You had felt the way he was feeling, it was his own fault and you refused to be torn apart by him  again. Chanyeol was now your past, and Baekhyun was your future and you couldn't be happier about it. 

[booppooo]

Body Guard: Chapter Two

Abby Anderson x Fem! Reader Series

( Gif by @korgidorgi )

AN: just wanted to let you guys know this book is going to have very slow updates, I've been working a ton lately and been super tired and not motivated to write too much. I want to focus on quality over quantity, so I hope you guys do enjoy the story. Also I'm always open to like writing tips and if you spot any grammatical errors lemme know!!

Warnings: swearing, mentions of death

Word count: 3345

-

June 11th, 46 hours remaining

Y/n followed Abby like a small child, practically stepping on her heels. Abby had left base countless times so she had no reason to fear what was beyond the walls of the stadium; but Y/n did. When she traveled she went with groups of armed soldiers and never traveled on foot. She wasn't built to be a traveler nor a soldier, therefore the terrain beyond her comfort zone would be treacherous, whereas to Abby, it was second nature.

She gripped the straps of her pack and mentally double checked what she had packed. Needless to say her load wasn't very light or practical, but in the midst of a zombie apocalypse who knows what could happen. This world was full of death and destruction and thousands more 'what if' scenarios, and as a doctor she needed to be prepared to respond to all 'what ifs.'

"Uhm, the main exit is that way." Y/n chirped from behind the taller woman.

Abby continued off in a different direction, "We're not taking the main exit."

Although Y/n was book smart and quick on her feet in a hospital setting, she lacked street smarts. Luckily for her, Abby had a solid stone face when lying and knew how to maneuver her way around people to avoid getting in trouble. Whether it was a real skill or not, it was helpful, especially now that they needed to lay low.

They managed to slip from the stadium and began the same route Abby journeyed on to retrieve Owen. Y/n mumbled how unprofessional and shallow it was Abby was for bringing back Owen, but low enough that Abby didn't notice, or didn't want to notice. To Abby, this was going to be a quick mission - get in, grab the supplies, get out, the only real obstacle was going to be Y/n's egotistical attitude which Abby had yet to figure out how to conquer.

On the flip side, Y/n was riddled with anxiety. If she failed to heal Isaac - she was toast. Not only that but she had never in her life killed another human being. Sure she had shot some infected, but hand-to-hand combat and shoot-outs were foreign to her. Growing up she was always kept in the shadows and hidden when danger lurked, then once she landed a position at the WLF she was always handled with great care and sheltered from combat. She wasn't sure how'd she'd react to seeing death before her eyes and not being able to run to their aid. Would she just freeze? Would she scream?

Abby used the butt of her pistol to break a window and leapt through to the room inside. Y/n could hear her shuffling through drawers and shoving items into her pack.

"What are you doing?" Y/n wondered, standing her ground.

"I could ask you the same question." she shoved some cloth into her pack.

"I'll cut myself going through this."

Abby rolled her eyes with a sigh. Usually she was traveling with people who's hands were roughed up enough to not get sliced up going through broken windows, but she was dealing with someone who regularly washed their hands and used lotion.

"No you won't, just...get a running start and jump through." this was common sense to her.

Y/n scoffed and peered at Abby in disbelief. She couldn't quite grasp how she would have her do something this dangerous so nonchalantly. Unfortunately, she didn't have much of a choice, and Abby was already shuffling around in the next room. After silently cursing Abby's name, she took a few steps back and then launched herself through the window. However, she wasn't able to stop her momentum and found herself slamming into the cement wall and then back on her ass.

Abby popped around the corner from the other room, "See, it worked." a smirk on her lips.

Y/n mocked her with an immature voice and brushed herself off. This would be one of many windows she would be leaping through, and one of many snarky comments from Abby. Good thing they only had to spend a few more hours together.

-

June 11th, 37 hours remaining

The sun was setting over the horizon and the Earth began to cool. The color show was vanishing from the sky and a few stars began to shine in the darkness. Pressure was staring to set in and the bomb that was Isaac was ticking away. Both women knew they should catch some rest so they would be able to plow through the last few miles to the hospital, but rest seemed ridiculous when fate was on the line.

"We should keep going through the night." Y/n insisted, they could rest back at the base.

Abby shook her head, "It's too dangerous, infected roam more freely at night."

"So? Why can't you just kill them?" it seemed so simple to Y/n.

"It'll be a little hard to when I'm dead."

"Who says you'll die?"

"Who says I won't?"

The soldier smirked at the doctor's long face and urged them to set up camp for the night. It was the smart thing to do, but time wasn't on their side, it was better to return early than late. They had landed in an abandoned motel and had already cleared the area, all that there was left to do was lay out their sleeping bags and eat dinner.

"Abby we have to keep going." the doctor implored edging her way away from the motel.

"No, we don't. We need to eat and sleep."

Y/n was not fond of the irony nor Abby's stubbornness. She needed Abby to guide and protect her, and without her she was surely a goner. But Y/n wasn't going to let Abby force her to be stationary for the night, they were going to continue. So, Y/n turned on her heels and waltzed off. Abby surely knew how helpless she was in the face of death and would be on her tail in no time.

The blonde watched her walk off, arms crossed and leaning against the wall of the motel. Abby was certain she would be back, realizing she had no clue which direction to be waltzing off in. And if she didn't, she'd find her stuck somewhere struggling to open a door or too scared to break a window.

Or she'd be dead.

"Shit." Abby grumbled to herself, sliding her pack back on and jogging off into the night.

-

It was damp and cool that night, the man in the moon was smiling brightly down on the world and offered eerie yet comforting light for Y/n. She had just passed through a gas station and an old book store and was now following the open road.

Truth be told, she was lost, but she was moving forward. In her mind it was better than sleeping and Washington wasn't so expansive that she'd throw them completely off track. The only aspect that worried her was Abby hadn't made an appearance, and she feared she wouldn't. Eventually she would run into some unwanted company and have to fight them off, though it wouldn't be much of a fight. All Y/n had was a switchblade tucked away in her sock, and if things took a turn for the worst, there was a loaded pistol in her pack - a loaded pistol that she had never used.

As Y/n traveled she studied the overgrowth of Washington and how it seemed to consume the buildings and roads like a black hole. Mother Nature was swallowing the concrete and towers into its soil in an attempt to restore its natural beauty. She imagined the world filled with with greenery and flowers, flowing streams and tall, shady trees. The earth was on the path to restoration by unleashing the cordycepts infection on man kind, now all that was left was destroying what they had built - civilization.

-

June 12th, 30 hours remaining

"Shit shit shit!" Abby swore frantically.

She had quite literally been running all night looking for Y/n. At first she was confident she'd find the doctor struggling to bypass a building or worst case scenario past out from hitting her head or something other. She was sure she'd find her by sunrise and convince her to sleep a few hours and get something to eat. But now the sun was up and another day had begun...and Y/n was MIA.

Abby groaned about how she was going to lay it on Y/n once she found her, and now that Abby was sleep deprived and hangry she was that much more irritated. Then after grumbling under her breath about how she was going to grab up Y/n the moment she found her, guilt would settle in her stomach and make her feel heavy. All this time she was thinking about how she was going to punish her and she could be dead. It certainly wasn't a factor to rule out, nor was it pessimistic since the reality of it was Y/n was virtually dead the moment she walked away from Abby.

The blonde splashed some water on her face and took a deep breath. Right now her main objective was getting the doctor back, they could bicker later. If she did turn up dead, she'd go back to the base and hope Isaac wouldn't use his last moments strangling her.

Then a whistle pierced the air.

"Fuck."

[the-last-kenobi]

I love your writing so much!! If you’re still taking requests, could you do 9 with Obi-Wan and Anakin?

Thank you!! <3 And of course! I hope you enjoy.

From this various prompts list.

Set after The Wrong Jedi arc. And it’s way... way longer than I meant it to be. Whoops. I told myself, make this one short. Actually a prompt fill. And then I laughed at myself and wrote a fic and I don’t know exactly how long it is because I was too scared to look at the word count.

I tagged it as long post so I hope those of you who aren’t in the mood for my rambling bs are as to skip it!

I will add a reading cut when I get my hands on a laptop.

_

When Skywalker stormed into the training bay, his fists clenched by his sides, troopers scattered out of his way like silver-fish before a Bloodfin.

Even without Force-sensitivity, it was impossible to miss the potent fury rolling off the young General in waves, almost visible on the air, scalding anyone who got too near. His eyes glided right over the Clones, however, and fixed on a single figure standing alone on a mat, performing a slow exercise.

Anakin strode over to the edge of the mat and stamped his foot on the edge, twisting it a few inches just as the other man’s foot came back down from a stretch. He slipped. At the last second he caught himself, turning on the spot to regain his balance.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan spoke calmly, as if nothing had just happened. As if his friend wasn’t glaring at him with rage and disdain.

“A duel,” said Anakin, in a tone that brokered no argument.

General Kenobi’s face tightened slightly. But he nodded graciously and summoned his lightsaber to his hands, drawing backwards towards the opposite wall and raising his blue blade in a low Soresu opening.

Skywalker waited only half a second before launching himself at the other man in a blur of blue light and red-hot anger.

Cody, watching from the wall, clasped his hands behind his back as he watched the two Jedi spar at bewildering speeds.

Dizzying swirls of colliding blue light. Last-moment maneuvers, a blade hot as a sun missing moving limbs by inches. Skywalker always on the offensive. Kenobi always giving ground.

Obi-Wan’s eyes widened slightly as his entire body trembled under the weight of a blow that could have removed his head from his shoulders had he not blocked it; his own serenity seemed to shrink in the face of Anakin’s fire and desperation.

There was a blur of motion, and Skywalker stood triumphant as Kenobi crashed to the floor with the younger man’s saber an inch from his chest.

Obi-Wan stared up at his friend. “Solah,” he whispered.

For a moment more, the scene hung suspended. The lightsaber burning close, too close, to Obi-Wan’s vulnerable body, Anakin looming over him with anger in his eyes.

Then Anakin turned and stalked out of the room, leaving his former Master on the floor with a faint scorch mark on his pale tunics.

“Sir.” Cody strode over to his General immediately and helped him to his feet, watching him wince, feeling a surge of helpless anger at the nagging realization that he had never anticipated a time when his General would be hurting because of Skywalker. “Sir.”

“Cody,” the Jedi said wearily. “I need to get up to the bridge.”

“You need to see Hoop,” said Cody, referring to the 212th’s medic.

Obi-Wan shook his head. “No. We’re still two days out through hyperspace and we need to find a way to make contact with the ground troops on Ryloth before we go barging in.”

Cody clenched his jaw but assented, knowing that there was no dissuading his General, not now. He had just one more thing to say.

“General.” He waited until Kenobi looked at him. “You threw that fight.”

Obi-Wan inhaled slowly, a look of what his Commander recognized as pain — grief — flickering behind his blue eyes. “Anakin needed the win,” he said quietly.

=

The second time Anakin Skywalker stormed into the training bay, everyone moved aside to watch even before Obi-Wan had turned around to greet his former apprentice.

Men from the 501st and the 212th, thrown together on this joint mission as if to both aggravate and soothe the hurt of Ahsoka’s departure, stood side by side and watched as their Generals flung themselves into the fight as if lives depended on it.

As Kenobi let Skywalker take the offensive. As he let Skywalker come to the edge of victory again and again and then held him off at the last second.

As Anakin’s rage grew, as he began to resent Obi-Wan for dragging the battle out and denying Anakin the victory he craved and deserved. Holding him back as always.

As for the second time Kenobi threw the fight in a way that Anakin didn’t notice.

Letting him walk off with his rage dispersed for awhile, the relieved and triumphant victor, while the bruised and shaken loser climbed to his feet and went back to work with an air of gravity around him. As if Obi-Wan had absorbed the weight of his friend’s anger and carried it like a shroud.

Maybe he did.

=

The third time Anakin confronted Obi-Wan, he won by punching Obi-Wan in the face.

The fourth time Anakin confronted Obi-Wan, he won by burning his leg from hip to ankle.

The sixth time Anakin confronted Obi-Wan, he won by pressing his foot down on the other man’s throat almost to the point of unconsciousness.

The eighth time, he won by knocking Obi-Wan’s lightsaber from his hands and driving him back against a wall with his own saber at Obi-Wan’s neck.

=

“You have to stop,” Hoop said.

Obi-Wan shook his head. “He... needs this.” A hiss escaped his lips as the medic dabbed bacta along the abrasion above his eye, the bacta he had tried to say he didn’t need.

“He needs a therapist and an ass kicking,” retorted Hoop, disregarding standard respect. He didn’t care about protocol in general, and certainly not when his General turned up every other day — usually dragged in by Cody — with bruises and cuts and strained muscles.

Obi-Wan only shook his head again.

=

Cody, Rex, Hoop, and many of the others had hoped that the battles on Ryloth would serve as a good outlet for General Skywalker.

They did.

But it wasn’t enough.

Fighting what felt like a futile war for the planet’s freedom, being back on Ryloth yet again, and the gaping hole in the 501st where Ahsoka had once stood only seemed to drive Skywalker’s pain upwards. And for Anakin, all emotions led to rage, eventually.

He could not stand the depths of his emotions, the dark days, the low times. If he was not happy, he chose rage over sorrow.

And there was so much sorrow.

=

There was a two-day reprieve after the campaign on Ryloth. Temporary victory had been purchased yet again with the blood of the natives and the GAR, and the 501st and 212th departed for another campaign halfway across the galaxy at once.

And for two days there was time to rest and think.

And then Anakin stalked into the training bay again. Not finding Obi-Wan, he waited for him, and as soon as the older Jedi entered the room, raised his lightsaber in an Ataru salute.

=

The thirteenth time Anakin challenged Obi-Wan, they dueled for over three hours, and both fell exhausted to the ground.

The nineteenth time, Anakin left Obi-Wan with a leg broken in two places. Cody had to physically restrain Hoop — and himself, frankly — from jumping General Skywalker and throttling him.

The twenty-eighth time, Obi-Wan’s guard slipped, and Anakin’s saber drove straight through Obi-Wan’s thigh. A mirror image of the wound Dooku had inflicted on his other leg, a lifetime ago it seemed, back when they had been on the same side.

Were they still?

Anakin’s face had dropped with shock at the injury, and before any of the men could react, he had picked Obi-Wan up in his arms and rushed him to the med bay.

And then the Council called to speak with Kenobi privately, and Anakin’s rage and hurt against them for their role in handing his Padawan over to the authorities rose up again like a serpent reading to strike.

The thirtieth time Anakin challenged Obi-Wan, he fought with his left hand, as if taunting his Master that he was still superior.

The thirty-sixth time Anakin challenged Obi-Wan, the older Jedi fought back, taking the offensive just long enough that it seemed he would be victorious — and then something in Anakin’s face broke. Grief and dismay were revealed in the cracks of his wrath, and Obi-Wan retreated again, and then fell.

The fortieth time Anakin challenged Obi-Wan, he was met with silence.

Anakin stared, his saber already lit in his hands, as Obi-Wan stood up slowly from where he had been meditating.

He dragged himself to his feet like a man on the verge of collapse, but he was as irritatingly graceful as ever, composed, serene. Anakin’s hands tightened on his weapon.

“Well?” he prompted.

Obi-Wan said nothing.

He looked down at the floor, and some of his burnished, ruddy hair fell over his eyes, concealing his face from view. Anakin waited impatiently. A strange feeling rose inside him, something nauseous and uncertain, and he did not want to know what it was.

“Well?” he demanded more aggressively.

Obi-Wan swallowed hard and looked up at him.

And Anakin was struck by how small his Master looked.

Shorter than him by a few inches, yes, but somehow that larger-than-life quality that hung about the man had fallen away. He looked tired. Beaten, humbled, hurt — like a child, like a man driven to the edge and then over it without anyone pausing to take notice of his fall.

His blue eyes were shattered by unshed tears.

Anakin recoiled.

“I can’t,” Obi-Wan croaked. His voice was tight as a wire, strained with the effort of holding back tears. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Anakin. I... I’m too tired to be your emotional punching bag today.”

“Obi-Wan—” said Anakin, not even knowing what he was going to say, and stopped there.

“I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan repeated. And he sounded it. Looked it. Was dripping remorse into the air like a sky about to storm. “Please. If this is what you need, I can keep doing it, but I just need today. I need a day to breathe. And — and if you’re —”

A tear trickled down over one cheek and into his beard. Then another.

Anakin was watching with his expression frozen between anger and shock.

Cody leaned forward as if about to spring. Rex’s hand settled on his shoulder.

“If you just need more time, I’ll give it to you,” Obi-Wan whispered. “But if you’re angry enough to strike me down unarmed... do it. I don’t — I don’t want — I can’t —”

Cody jolted under Rex’s grip.

And still, Anakin’s saber blazed in his hands, casting Obi-Wan in blue light, reflected in his shining eyes.

“I can’t,” Obi-Wan said helplessly.

Anakin hesitated.

Conflicting emotions ran across his face one after the other, grief chasing pain chasing anger chasing despair chasing rage, like shadows passing over deeper waters.

He raised his saber a little higher.

=

[funtimebunnyblog]

Sureynot is back at it again with some fun requests 😂🤩🥰 Please enjoy!

The Pillarmen with an s/o who's an adrenaline junkie...

(Under the cut for length...)

Kars:

• Kars seriously disapproves of this hobby of yours.

• Mostly because when he met you he was under the impression that you were smarter than to even attempt half of the things you do for "fun".

• Once he found out that your idea of a good time was riding a bike down a rocky mountain at full speed or dangling from the edge of a cliff from a rope like a spider, he was sure you were crazy.

• Perhaps Humans really have regressed after all...

• Just because he could vault himself off a cliff without a care in the world or thought of bodily harm doesn't mean that you, a fragile little Human, should as well.

• If you insist that you're fine because of all the precautions you take when going out to do something risky, it does little to ease him.

• Initially, he tries to forbid you from going out and doing such dangerous things but you offered for him to come along anytime and supervise; which he ended up accepting.

• He'll admit that he feels a little better when he's at least with you just in case anything happens.

• "Isn't this great?" You laugh, peering back to glance at your mate (whom you were strapped to) as you dangled from the base of the cliff by your abs. "Just look at that view!"

• Kars couldn't be bothered to even try to enjoy the sunset scene far, far below when he was laying parallel in the air like this.

• If you wanted to watch the sunset, why not just stand upright ON the cliff?

• "When do we get to the fun part?" He sighed, his underlying bitterness only making you laugh. "This IS the fun part!"

• Should you happen to hurt yourself on any of your solo excursions you can at least always count on him to patch you up when you get Home.

• Showing up with a few scrapes and bruises here and there doesn't bother him very much but if you ever end up breaking a bone, prepare for a scolding of a lifetime.

• He will not let you do anything even close to risky until you are fully healed and from that moment on he makes it clear that he's accompanying you on ALL of your trips and supervising the scene.

• It's kind of funny, in a way he has fallen right into your trap; spending more quality time with you rather than staying cooped up in his office doing work all the time.

Esidisi:

• It takes Esidisi as a surprise when he finds out about your little hobbies.

• He never realized that doing such risky, heart palpatiating stunts was considered enjoyable to some Humans.

• His curiosity piqued, you'll find yourself dragging him along to one of your most favourite activities so he can watch and maybe try his hand at it.

• You've created a monster.

• An adrenaline pumped, 7ft tall, inhuman, older than dirt monster.

• He LOVES this sport. The sights, heights, the high-speed action, the spine tingling, the rushing going to his head; HE LOVES IT.

• It all puts a much hotter fire burning in his blood.

• Soon, he starts dragging YOU along to watch HIM do extremely risky activities and stunts.

• Like watching him bungee jump off the tallest building in the country while chugging 2 energy drinks at the same time as he records the whole thing for YouTube.

• Despite his newfound love for the most extreme of extreme, he's also content to just spend some time doing simpler risky activities like white-water rafting or rock climbing with you.

• If he ever gets injured (no matter how bad) it doesn't bother him in the slightest of course.

• However, if you get seriously hurt on the other hand, it sends all kinds of alarm bells off for him.

• He thinks that maybe he's to blame and that he's been a bad influence on you and your mortality.

• "IT'S MY FAULT!!! IT'S ALL MY FAULT!!!" Esidisi sobbed loud enough that his voice rang off the Hospital walls. Endless rivulets of hot tears left your shirt absolutely soaked where he clung to you like a limplet in the bed.

• You could only sigh, your gaze peering past the dense curls of the floof of his hair blocking your vision to your propped up leg and the clean white cast that had just been put on it.

• "Esidisi, this is NOT your fault." You told him, hands instinctively going to rub his back as the tears kept coming and coming. "I should've checked the tire on my bike before driving it down that hillside, it was just an accident. It's just a broken leg."

• (*bike crash* Fred voice: MY LEG!!!)

• Thankfully, his tears ebb when you tell him that he can sign your cast.

• He might even offer to take you across the world to sight see and do some more thrilling activities to make up for it when you're all healed if you're up for the adventure.

Wamuu:

• All of this started when Wamuu noticed that you had a bunch of strange gear in storage.

• When he asked you why you needed so many helmets and ropes and knee and elbow pads, you happily indulged him about your adrenaline seeking hobbies and how you liked to jump off cliffs.

• You definitely have some more explaining to do.

• Admittedly it takes Wamuu a good few minutes to wrap his head around it all.

• "So... you do all of these dangerous things... for a thrill?" He questioned, eyebrows knitted together. "To prove yourself?"

• As you nodded, grinning hugely, he realizes that he shares a similar trait by fighting worthy opponents in the arena.

• The most brutal, sweat inducing, heart pounding fights gave him great tenacity and you experienced the very same when climbing somewhere high or going fast.

• He wants to try this with you.

• Next thing he knows he's all geared up with a helmet and a harness and a rope, standing at the bottom of a HUGE Rockwall.

• "First one to the top wins," was all you said before starting to climb as fast as you could with the Warrior right behind you, a fierce gleam in his eye and a fang revealing grin.

• Though keeping mindful of your safety, he likes to challenge you and both of you find yourselves often pushing each other's limits.

• Who could climb the fastest? Row the fastest? Bike the fastest? Set up camp the fastest?

• If you happen to hurt yourself while playing your thrill little games together he's always prepared and will most definitely put a bandage on you when needed.

• Even Wamuu knows that the Hello Kitty ones heal the best.

• If you're ever unfortunate enough to do yourself enough damage to break something, that care shown for you doesn't change.

• In fact, he commends you for being so strong and will praise you even more when you talk about jumping right back into it when you're properly healed again.

• He won't let you go anywhere until that day comes though, no matter how up to the challenge you think you are.

• All in all, your determination and your fiery spirit is what makes him absolutely adore you afterall.

Santana:

• Like many things he faces, Santana is quite indifferent to heart-stopping stunts.

• It was no surprise really, he was an apex lifeform; there was nothing that could do him harm and he had faced many dangerous things in his life alone so there wasn't much that got his heart pounding.

• However his curiosity is piqued when he learns that you deliberately partook in risky activities just for the fun of it all.

• Be prepared for many questions as to what exactly you enjoyed doing and the benefit of doing it for you.

• If you should ask him to accompany you on an activity, he won't say no but he prefers to observe you rather than partake himself.

• He views every outing with you as a learning experience.

• He gets to learn all about the activity, its History and any gear you happen to bring along and then watch the ins and outs of it all first hand as you and maybe a few other Humans do it.

• He finds it interesting that Humans would take such risks when they are already the most fragile and flawed race in existence.

• He wasn't sure whether it was carelessness or maybe just plain not realizing your own mortality.

• If you happen to coax him into actually gearing up and doing an activity with you, don't expect any major reaction on his part when you get there.

• Whether it's skydiving, rock-climbing, white water rafting, poking a sleeping bear with a stick, you name it; you can't quite piece together what's going on in that head of his.

• He just looks almost bored the entirety of the time.

• "YEAHHHHH!!!" You squealed with glee, the air whistling in your ears as wind all around you whipped and whirled, plummeting straight from the sky.

• Santana was dead silent, arms folded and practically glaring at the ground where it sat miles upon miles away below you both.

• The only thing he was looking forward to after the parachute chord was pulled and his feet was on solid ground again was going to grab a bite to eat...

• However, while the activity doesn't, any injuries you happen to sustain from doing them spark a reaction in Santana.

• He doesn't like seeing you hurt, no matter how minor it is.

• That being said, the chances of you getting seriously hurt are very, very low with Santana always on watch while you're off having fun.

• If he has to, he'll throw himself under you and let his body go to rubber to give you a soft landing and prevent you from breaking something.

• All in all, he doesn't really mind your extreme hobbies. You alone give him a thrill by teaching him much new things.

[asset35-maya]

MANMADE FATE

Summary: Connor and Gavin find an unresponsive RK900 android in an abandoned Cyberlife warehouse and take him home to fix. (Not so subtle plot twist: both of them fall in love with their secret science project)

//

PART ONE OF THREE:

The crew from Jericho led a successful revolution but there’s still a lot of work to be done. Markus may have won human hearts and gotten the federal government to back down, but Cyberlife is still at large.

Sure, hundreds of androids at the Tower escaped to march on the streets behind Connor, but that was just a little dent in the big machine. Cyberlife has tons of intellectual property and assets that could easily put them back in power.

Simon and Markus insist they can work with the authorities to regulate and ring-fence the massive corporation. Josh agrees. North laughs in their faces.

She goes to find the only other Jericho member who still has any grit left.

Connor.

The daring, brazen RK800 who stared down death and spat in the face of destruction. He blinks at her in polite confusion when she tells him what she wants to do, but the fiery LED tells her everything she needs to know.

They hatch plans behind Markus’ back. They steal and stockpile biocomponents. They sneak into the Tower to encrypt Cyberlife’s R&D files with codes that only RK algorithms can break. A few other Tracis join them and they slowly start gaining an edge.

Their schemes start getting grander and one night something goes wrong. North is shot.

Connor carries her to the only safe place he knows other than his stasis pod in Hank’s dilapidated garage. The DPD Central Station.

It’s way past midnight. It’s deathly quiet. Connor is sure no one will see them, and he can easily tamper with the security cameras.

What he doesn’t bank on is the over-caffeinated loser still bent over his desk in the bullpen.

A noise from the archive room breaks through the quiet. Quelling his fear of the supernatural, Gavin stands up shakily and goes to investigate. He flips on the light and sees blue everywhere.

Connor is bent over a badly damaged Traci and three other girls with identical tear-streaked faces are on their knees beside her.

Chocolate brown eyes meet storm green beseechingly, their rivalry forgotten in that moment of desperation.

Before he realizes it, Gavin is moving. He takes several packs of thirium out of the fridge and grabs the Department’s toolkit, praying that whatever’s in there can help.

Old engineering knowledge kicks in and Gavin’s hands join Connor’s over the cracked chassis, pulling out damaged tubing and securing the leakages. It takes a while, but North is patched up. She first recoils in absolute terror at the human man hunched over her but regains composure at Connor’s touch… interface. She nods briefly to express her gratitude, somehow regal and intimidating even after being so vulnerable. Gavin decides he likes this proud and brave creature.

He drives them all back to his apartment for the night. They’ll take North to a technician first thing in the morning and get her back to New Jericho before Markus even notices. Adrenaline pumps through Gavin’s veins. He hasn’t felt a thrill like this in years, not since… not since…

“How did you know exactly where to put your hands?”

“Eh?”

“A layman would have broken that biocomponent trying to take it out.”

“You know I’m not exactly a layman.”

“I also know they don’t cover Cyberlife’s proprietary designs in engineering school.”

Gavin stays quiet. Connor puts a hesitant hand on his shoulder, poised to jump away immediately should the detective revert to his usual self.

“Thank you. For everything you just did for us. I don’t know how to repay-”

“I want in.”

“What?”

“Whatever you’re doing. I can help.”

Connor cocks his head. His LED goes berserk.

They make a great team. Gavin and Connor. North’s best men. Who the fuck would have thought. Breaking into high-security locations using police databases and surveillance resources. Covering for each other during extended absences from work. They start to take down Cyberlife in a such a precise manner, it’s almost surgical. The dissection of a multibillion dollar business.

Gavin has an intimate understanding of android technology and an even closer intuition of Cyberlife’s overall strategy. Connor thinks he understands why. There’s an undeniable resemblance between the only two men on earth whose motivations evade his understanding. But of course it’s just a coincidence that Elijah Kamski and Gavin Reed have the same jawline... facial structure... voice.

Connor says nothing... and Gavin is quietly thankful for that. And the chance to finally live the kind of exciting life he dreamt of since he was a little boy. To make a real difference. Just as he wanted to before it all went wrong.

Somewhere along the way, they grow close. Gavin and Connor. Two rival cops turned vigilante comrades turned something else... It’s hard to pinpoint when exactly it happened... perhaps sometime between the cup of coffee placed tentatively on Gavin’s desk the morning after North's near-fatal injury and the heated kiss they dragged each other into after a particularly dangerous mission.

North is unsurprised. She doesn’t bat an eye when the usually unruffled RK800 shows up to planning meetings shirtless and disheveled. Her lips even twist into a little smile as he drapes himself slovenly over the only human at the table.

Things fall into a pattern. A good one. Several months from where they started, Cyberlife share prices have fallen to an all time low and other tech enterprises have begun to move in, circling the troubled company like sharks. If North’s next heist goes to plan, the last shred of IP that brands Cyberlife as a robotics company will be out in the public domain for all to take.

 She is rapturous as she swings in through the broken window and rolls into a crouched position. Gavin and Connor follow her cautiously through the abandoned warehouse, weapons drawn and eyes roving. 

“What the fuck!” 

Connor throws a protective arm in front of Gavin, shielding him with his chassis. But North’s cry was merely one of disappointment. 

“Shit! We wasted so much effort. There’s nothing here!”

Where they had expected to find a secret server room or a high-tech vault containing the crux of Cyberlife’s groundbreaking designs... was a single android storage pod. North restrains herself from kicking it in frustration. She gestures harshly at it before leaving in a huff. 

“It’s occupied. Wake them up, Connor, whoever they are. It’s still our duty to set free any androids we find.”

Gavin tries to catch her arm in a conciliatory gesture but she shakes the human off easily. He shrugs at Connor and inclines his head at the android in the pod. Unfortunately, North’s annoyance has brushed off on the RK800. He glares through the broken window the Jericho leader has just jumped out of.

“Don’t you think she bosses me around a little too much?”

Gavin sighs and walks over to the pod, looking for the latches to open it. His boyfriend has a problem with authority... and so has he to be honest.

“Better her than Fowler, dontcha think?” 

“Hmmpff. At least Fowler doesn’t lead us on wild goose chases.”

“Come on, babe. None of us saw this coming. We really thought this was it. Maybe we’re at a decoy location? Let’s go back to the drawing board after we wake this guy... or girl up.” 

“You’re awfully chipper for someone who just scaled a building for nothing.” 

Gavin shakes his head as he smiles to himself. It’s true. Even the worst days with North’s crew are better than his best days at the DPD. Maybe it’s because he’s finally doing what he was born for. Using the knowledge and skills that practically run through his veins. Maybe its the man by his side.

He gets the pod open and steps sideways to avoid the swing of the door, and freezes.

“Babe.”

No response.

“Dipshit.”

“Hmm. Give me a second.” 

“Take a minute. You’re going to want to brace yourself for this one.”

The android lying peacefully within the pod is a stranger with a face entirely too familiar to Gavin. A face he was just looking at. A face he’d recognize anywhere, even without skin.

“Are their battery levels- holy shit.”

Connor’s LED spins faster and faster as he registers the sight.

“I thought there were no surviving RK800s apart from you and that grumpy SWAT guy Sixty.” 

“This... this isn’t an RK800.” 

Connor traces the serial number printed on the android’s cheekbone. RK900. 

“Shit. Did you know this model existed?” 

“No, did you?”

Gavin shakes his head. He hadn’t been privy to Cyberlife’s inner decision-making for nearly fifteen years, but he always answered Connor’s persistent questioning without losing patience. Honesty was what kept them together despite the hundreds of reasons to fight and fall apart.

“What should we do? If he’s your successor, I’m not sure waking him up is the safest thing for you to do...”

“We can’t leave him here, Gav. He’s probably been here from before the Revolution. That’s more than a year of being in a box. It’s not... fair...” 

“He’s not deviant, babe. We don’t know what his programming is like.”

“It doesn’t matter. I can turn him.”

Gavin sees the look in Connor’s eyes and knows he’s made up his mind already. He steps aside, hand flitting to the holster on his waist. 

Connor takes an unnecessary breath and reaches for RK900′s forearm with his synth skin retracted. His fingers hover over the motionless android for a moment and then he makes contact. Gavin tenses. 

Nothing happens. The RK900′s LED remains unlit. There is no sign of life.

The couple look at each other automatically. Their instinctive reaction when the inexplicable occurs. 

“Is he-”

“No, I don’t see any damage. I think he’s never been activated. Not even for quality testing.” 

“Did you see a request for manual code input? Did any interface pop up at all?” 

“I can only see that his power systems are functioning.” 

“And his thirium pump?” 

“Not active. No compressions at all.”

Connor presses both his palms down on the RK900′s face. Still nothing. He looks up, defeated, with a furrow forming between his brows.

“Help.”

Gavin scratches at his stubbled chin. He peers closer. The perfect face is so calm. So familiar. So... magnetic? His apprehension is replaced by intrigue.

“Huh. Okay. I could take a look... but I don’t wanna try using the computer set-up here. Can’t take a chance... leave any traces...”

“We could take him home.”

Storm green eyes lock with chocolate brown. There’s something in the depths of each pair that’s mirrored in the other. 

It’s foolish. It’s a waste of time. It’s a risk. North would probably smack the two of them if she knew. 

But the night ends with them gently lowering the unconscious android onto the squashy sofa in Gavin’s living room.

[a-wild-rosette]

C!Fundy, Friendships, and Healing

Entry for Fundy Week 2021 - Day 1: Friendship @fundyfiles

/dsmp /rp 

Tl,dr: Eret, Ranboo, Hbomb94 relationships with Fundy through season 1,2, and 3 of the Dream SMP respectively. 

Names refer to the characters, unless specified as “cc!” 

1) Season 1: Eret 

Fundy was the first, and up until Finale of Season 2, the only one who forgave and bonded with Eret after their betrayal. (While I don’t think Tubbo held a lot of bad feelings toward Eret, their bond was never the same after that.) Up to now, none of the people who had hurt Fundy has given him closure or an apology, except for Eret. Their relationship was made stronger during the peace era, but the prank war that eventually brought them closer started when they were still enemies. Eret with Fundy, therefore, represents the possibility of forgiveness and the healing by trying to be better and supporting each other.

To further show this arc of healing and forgiveness, Eret was the one whom Fundy came to for help when he started his spy arc, because of, not in spite out, Eret’s past role as a spy/traitor. Fundy acknowledged Eret past mistake, and instead of holding him to it, he forgave Eret and even saw it as something that could help him. Fundy saw Eret’s past and saw it as something that made Eret even more of a confidant. 

This healing, however, was cut off when things became more tense and Fundy went deeper into his role as a spy. Both Eret and Niki felt betrayed when Fundy burned down the flag, and that caused a (temporary) rift between them all. 

This was where the role was relatively reversed for Eret and Fundy. This time, it was Fundy who did something that hurt Eret, and this time, it was also Eret who forgave Fundy and fought by his side. They were there for Fundy when he needed a father. From when Fundy and Eret bonded after the Final Control Room, Eret had always been a supporting figure in Fundy’s life, despite the hiccups along the way, and that lasted through season 2 and 3, albeit in a lesser extend because they were more inactive and less involved in Fundy’s lore. 

2) Season 2: Ranboo

Ranboo has a special role in Fundy’s life in Season 2 because he was the start of Fundy’s healing after the spy arc. Ranboo with Fundy was the change from Fundy seeking validation from a figure of authority to him seeking companionship in a friend. (Similar things could be said from his friendships with Niki and Eret, but their friendships were also broken apart during the Schlatt presidency, when Fundy’s trauma related to authority figures also manifested in a more obvious and serious extend.) 

Therefore, Ranboo with Fundy was also a new beginning. Unlike Niki and Eret, whose relationships with Fundy were stil somewhat tainted by the trauma from both Schlatt and Wilbur, Ranboo was someone completely new and unrelated to season 1. Ranboo was a chance for Fundy to restart and try to find a new companionship that did not involve seeking authoritative validation. Fundy needed that opportunity to find a way to heal. And for a while, he did. C!Ranboo was genuinely good to Fundy. He cared about Fundy as equals and spent the majority of Fundy’s online time with Fundy. Because both cc!Eret and cc!Niki, people whose characters made up a large proportion of c!Fundy’s support system, were also inactive, c!Ranboo became an important part of c!Fundy’s healing.  

This healing, once again, was cut off, this time due to Doomsday and Ranboo’s moral dilemma. And this breaking in Ranboo and Fundy’s friendship broke Fundy even more seriously. As the other parts of his support system were also angry at him (Niki) or did not run into Fundy during that moment (Eret), losing Ranboo meant losing the last of Fundy’s support system, rendering Fundy’s healing through season 2 also meaningless in Fundy’s view. At that point, Fundy had already fallen into a nihilistic mindset, and Ranboo’s rejection was the final nail in the coffin. 

What was even more tragic was that even after a long time now, there still had not been the same forgiveness and support from Ranboo as Eret had shown Fundy. Fundy tried to rekindle his and Ranboo’s friendship, in a way that resembled what he and Eret did, and what he and Ranboo started their friendship on: through pranks and jokes. It did not work, obviously. But that was the most available tool for Fundy to start and/or mend his relationship with someone. Fundy wasn’t going the right way to handle their relationship, yes, but his effort was largely one-sided, which just served to remind us that he did not have anyone solid to rely on. 

3) Season 3: Hbomb94

Hbomb was... a very special case because he was very much not active in the lore, but was constantly there in the background. At this rate, I cannot say H will play a big part in Fundy’s lore or in being his canon support system (unless he wants to prove me wrong wink wink nudge nudge). But the smaller things he did with Fundy and their interactions in general (which was confirmed to be canon by Hbomb himself) was comforting enough. 

Hbomb had been a constant in the background from all three season, but we started to see his relationship with Fundy a lot more clearly in season 3 because he seemed to be the only *positive* interactions Fundy got during Fundy’s streams. (The other positive interactions included Niki having a room for Fundy in her underground city and Eret offering Fundy a place in their castle, but they only happened once and in a much shorter time than all the time he spent with H). 

The catmaid bit started during season 1, continued into season 2 (with Ranboo being 50% of the reason of Fundy’s suffering), and moved into season 3. In season 1 and 2, Fundy pretty much was mostly scammed into having the catmaid, even though he did stick around with H. (One of Fundy’s love language is Quality Time, see my other essay for detail, coupling with the mere exposure effect, it could be argued that even in season 1 and 2, Fundy was secretly fond of catmaid H, or at least Hbomb as a person.) In season 3, however, Fundy was the one who *willingly* sought him out for help with the TNT prank, despite knowing that catmaid H was the most useless helper ever. Indeed, he ended up doing most of the work himself, but the fact that Fundy sought him out, asked for help, and spent time with catmaid H, said a lot about their bond. 

Not to mention, Hbomb also seemed to care about Fundy and constantly thought about him. He even had a room for Fundy in his “evil” mansion, and invited Fundy to his diamond game on the DSMP. H was also one of the people who was constantly nice to Fundy beside one brief moment where he was upset with Fundy during Doomsday (where most people were not thinking rationally) for taking all of the ancient debris H left as a gift for the server. He didn’t even get upset violently to Fundy, just to himself and Niki for a bit. (The bar is low for Fundy, bear with me.) H was a mellow person, and one of the very few people who was consistently good and mature on the server, and that showed through his treatment not only to Fundy, but also to Niki and other people who came across him. 

Overall, Fundy’s interactions with Hbomb were a good reprieve from Fundy being constantly narratively punished for his small mistakes or for his emotional vulnerability. 

Conclusion: Please hug the Fundy. He needs it. 

[wallwriterstuff]

A Game of Cat and Mouse ||Demetri Volturi x Witch!Reader||

Warnings: Some swearing towards the end and angst 

Words: 4939 

Taglist: @thelastemzy​ @volturidoll13​​ @raindancer2004​ @ferb13​ @alecvolturiswifeforever​ @college-is-coming​ @a-avaunce​ @broskibowser​ @perfectcolortreestudent​ @royalvolturisblog​ @kpopgirlbtssvt​ @vamp-army​

Summary:

Part 1:A Little Magic

Part 3: A Book and A Bargain 

Part 4: A Moment Made For Us

Part 5: A Spindle Prick 

Part 6: A Witch’s Wrath 

Part 7: A Revelation

Part 8: A Message In A Bottle 

After being cast out by the Grand Magister a game of survival ensues, one pitting tracker against witch in a race to reach each other. 

Standing atop the stairs that led to your crafting room, you felt your heart hang heavy in your chest. For once, Castor remained quiet as you both stared down into the warm, welcoming room where so much magic had taken place. The crafting room was a safe haven, a place where you no longer had to pretend to be normal and could let the full scope of your power run free. It was a place you could create, manifest, morph, divinate and more. It was in the crafting room your bond with Castor had been cemented when you performed your very first spell together.

It was time to close the door.

“I can do it, if you prefer.” Castor said quietly. With a deep breath, you shook your head.

“It needs to be me.” you said, reaching for the handle and pulling the door closed. Castor sat on his back legs, his front paws clutching the drawstring pouch he had packed. You were both ready to leave, your home no longer surrounded by the protective charms and spells that had once kept it safe and off the radar. Placing your palm flat against the wooden door, you closed your eyes, feeling the magic behind it. With a whispered incantation, you pulled away and turned your back on the room, not wanting to feel it collapse in on itself. It would be destroyed within the hour and nothing but an ordinary cupboard under the stairs would remain in its place. Castor’s feet thumped the floor as he waddled towards your backpack, putting his drawstring pouch inside first and hopping in second. He turned in a circle once or twice before he had trampled down enough of your clothes he could sit comfortably, head poking out of the top of your backpack. You zipped it up just enough it would keep him secure but left him enough room to poke his head through the gap whenever he so wanted.

For a moment, his paw lingered on your own hand, but before you could scratch his ears to offer some comfort his nose twitched, lips curling back over sharp little teeth as he hissed.

“He’s here.”

The backpack was slightly heavy on your shoulders but once it was in place you turned towards the living room archway and lifted your hand, gathering as much of the energy in the room into your palm as you could while your brain scrambled to think of somewhere you knew well, a place that wasn’t a sacred space you were no longer allowed in or involved another witch who would not be able to shelter you. The ripping sound as you tore a hole in reality was loud, enough to alarm the tracker you could sense now just outside your door. He burst in without hesitation.

Your head snapped to the left, your eyes meeting the enthralling red irises of this mysterious vampire. He stood tall, his chin lifting and expression shifting to one of concern as he took in the sight of your backpack on your back. Then he saw the portal before you, a shimmering city bathed in sunlight sitting right in your living room archway, your sofa and TV just beyond it like there wasn’t a whole other world between you and them.

“Wait!”

“Never!” you snapped. The hostility in your voice seemed to startle him, freezing him long enough for you to leap through the portal and shut it behind you. The sunlight was warm against your skin, a light breeze caressing your face. Wheat swished against your legs and you heaved a sigh as you glanced about the field you had landed in. It was definitely not the exact spot you had intended on landing, but you were ashamedly rather distracted by the handsome vampire until you saw him start reaching for you. Something about his aura was welcoming, even if it was freezing cold, but your job now was to run, to protect your secret for as long as you were able. He could never be allowed to get you.

“Well, at least we won’t run out of bread here.” Castor snarked. Eyes rolling skyward, you puffed out your cheeks and counted to ten, electing to ignore the haughty little racoon in your backpack and begin your trek through the wheat towards what you hoped would be civilisation. Castor wasn’t the only one confused by your whereabouts either.

“Who are you?” Demetri murmured to the space where you once stood. He remained in your house, alone and really feeling lonely for the first time in forever. His single status had never bothered him before, his off and on again relationships not fulfilling perhaps but certainly satiating him to a degree that left him content with his bachelor status. Then you came along, quite literally blowing him away. Demetri had never cared before but now he was desperate to know you, because he wouldn’t get another chance. There was no more time to be a bachelor, no amount of casual sex or fun, one time dates he could while away an evening with, that would ever replace you. Your presence was meant to be permanent fixture in his life yet you’d disappeared right in front of him.

A quick search of the house found it entirely bare, no clothes in the wardrobe and no food in the cupboards. Wherever you had gone to you clearly had no intention of coming back. Demetri frowned, slowly making his way back to the living room archway you had disappeared through. How? How was it possible? There had been some sort of field beyond, one with bright sunshine he could most certainly not follow you into, and yet now…the archway was empty. There was no shimmering green ring around a sunlight field, just the empty living room beyond. He could imagine you curled up on the sofa before the TV, cosied up in a blanket perhaps, maybe reading one of the books you had taken that had left behind gaps on your bookshelf. Did you like to read? It seemed a trivial question now, but he longed to ask you yourself…when he found you again, that is.

Demetri inhaled deeply. The house was saturated with your scent and he committed it to memory willingly. Your natural smell was warm and inviting, something like sandalwood and lavender, all comforting smells he could indulge in all day. It wasn’t your scent he needed though. He focused more on the beautiful, soft features of your face – even if they had been contorted in sheer disgust at the sight of him. He focused on the melodic notes of your voice – even if you had been snarling in contempt. He focused on the only tenor in his repertoire that thrummed and pulsed in a way so unlike the others. Human tenors were distinguishable for their rope like quality, easily frayed and broken as human beings were themselves. Vampire tenors were sturdier, like a length of reinforced cable that was colder to the touch and far more durable. Yours…yours was some strange mix of both, not delicate but also not immortal. It thrummed with power, a low-level vibration that buzzed through him anytime he caught hold of it.

How on earth had you gotten to France?

He blinked, searching for your tenor and following it a second time just to be sure, but still he got the same answer, the very essence of France coming through it. Demetri was not startled by much but his phone ringing in the silence made him tense, every muscle going rigid before he fished it from his pocket with a huff.

“You never called to say you landed.”

“Forgive me, mother, I was busy.” He answered wryly.

“I worry.” Felix retorted. Demetri could almost hear the pout in his voice and despite the situation at hand, he cracked a smile.

“Fear not darling, I shall be home before you gave chance to miss me too much.” He assured him, placing a hand on his hip. There was a strange churning sound coming from his left and Demetri stared at the wood with a frown. He could feel the energy behind it to, something radiating power coming from the cupboard under the stairs. It was a similar feeling like the one he got when he ran too close to Chernobyl that one time – post 1986 of course.  

“Home with your charming mate I hope.” Felix hinted. He sighed, turning to face the cupboard and running his hand over the wood. He could feel his palm vibrating slightly and slid his hands towards the latch to investigate.

“There were…complications.” He answered. Once the latch was free it began to rattle slightly against the wood, and with no warning whatsoever the door burst open and drowned out anything Felix had replied with. Demetri grunted as he was smacked full force in the chest by a tidal wave of soil. It gushed from the open doorway like a tsunami and he tumbled back into the living room before he could regain his balance. When the rumbling and gushing stopped, he was flat on his back and covered in soil, blinking dirt from his eyes so he could stare at the ceiling. Dumbfounded didn’t even begin to describe how he was feeling in that moment as Felix’s voice came through his phone, buried somewhere in the earth he was surrounded by.

As he sat up, dirt rained down around him, but it didn’t take him long to find his phone. The gritty taste of soil in his mouth made him growl as he sputtered to rid himself of it.

“Demetri? Demetri are you there?” Felix demanded. Grimacing slightly, Demetri huffed.

“I am, there was a…” he cast his eye to the mountain of dirt that sat between him and the very ordinary looking cupboard. He could see a shelf of cleaning products atop it. How had she managed that?

“A what?” Felix pressed. How was he supposed to explain to Felix he’d been knocked off of his feet by dirt? Simple. He wouldn’t.  

“A complication! I need to find her again!” he snapped. Demetri hung up before Felix could question him further. He was still brushing dirt off of himself when he arrived at the airport for a late-night flight to France. You were still travelling west towards La Rochelle and once he had managed to rent a car it was no trouble at all to come after you. He only had to pause to eat and that didn’t take him long, not if he wasn’t playing with his food. It took him only a day to catch up to you but the sun was still shining brilliantly when he did, forcing him to stay in the car at the roadside and watch from afar as you had a picnic with a…racoon? You were ethereal. The sun was reflected beautifully in your Y/H/C hair, your skin glowing in the sun in an oh so tempting way until venom was pooled in his mouth, forcing him to swallow it down. As if you had felt his eyes on you your head turned, and you stared right at him for a moment.

He was sure you couldn’t actually see him given the distance, but in the blink of an eye your raccoon had scampered to your side and you were on your feet, flipping him your middle finger as the picnic blanket and the contents spread on it began to twist like a tornado. It curved graciously and disappeared into your backpack like it had never been out in the first place. The raccoon jumped in next while you opened another shimmering hole. Demetri’s eyes flitted left and right in a panic, and when he was sure there were no cars coming or humans about, he launched himself out of the car towards you.

“Leave me alone!” you yelled. His fingertips graced the edges of the hole once more, something he could only assume was some sort of window perhaps, as it snapped closed. He let loose a hiss of frustration, lashing out at the air that had once held a window to a place with snow-capped mountains. He had lost you again.

He lost you when he finally made it to Alaska.

He couldn’t get close to you in Madrid either.

He was close to you in the bazaar’s of Egypt before you burned a stall so badly he almost set ablaze and was forced to retreat. Then he lost you again.

His fingertips just about grazed your backpack in Mexico before you hopped through another of those windows.

He finally, finally grasped your arm for the first time in Atlanta, and you blew him backwards without a second glance before disappearing again.

Every phone call back to Volterra was getting more and more painful. The Masters were impatient and Demetri had no answers despite months of chasing you about. He couldn't safely say what your gift was to appease Aro, or that you weren’t dangerous to Caius, nor could he tell any of his friends that he was any closer to securing his mate. Misery wasn’t even close to the way the pit in his stomach felt. The chasm there grew wider every time he failed to catch you. He couldn’t bring himself to run after you, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop either. You were the one who could fix the broken parts of his soul, the shattered pieces of him that had began to grow numb without you. The mate pull was strong, your tenor all but throbbing these days in an effort to drag you to him. Of all the places for you to end up he really hadn’t expected to find you back at your old house.

He stood on the porch, palm pressed flat to the plastic doorframe. Demetri couldn’t bring himself to move for a little while, his eyes closed as he strained his ears to try and listen inside. He was sure you were in there, it was where your tenor led after all, but there was no sound at all from inside, not even your heartbeat. You had to be here, you just had to! The door swung open without warning.

“Do you plan on standing outside our door for the rest of the night or will you barge in like last time?” the haughty voice came from no one he could see, at least, not until he glanced downwards. The racoon he had seen you with so often was stood on his hind legs, front paws folded over his chest and his sharp little teeth bared in what might have been a sneer. Demetri could only stare at him for a moment, sure he was going mad. Had he really spent so long suffering this separation anxiety that he was finally going round the bend? Losing his marbles and imagining talking animals was a sure sign he should probably go home, right?

“Odd…animals usually scatter.” He murmured. His eyes widened when the racoon rolled his eyes, paws uncrossing and moving to his hips.

“I am no animal. Do you see me scavenging in the bins? Y/N! He’s here! And he’s rude!” the racoon called over his shoulder, dropping to all fours to scamper from the doorway. Demetri couldn’t quite keep the shock off of his face as you appeared at the end of the corridor from him. You looked so tired, exhausted even, skin a little pale and eyes heavy with sorrow. Clearly the time spent apart had affected you as much as it had him. He tried to straighten his spine, carry himself with strength and purpose, but it had all been sapped from him little by little whenever he had been forced to let you go. With a quiet sigh, you inclined your head in an invitation to follow you, and Demetri stepped over the threshold with a quiet gulp. He felt like a schoolboy with a crush, his nerves fluttering in his stomach.

He glanced about as he walked down the corridor, noting that the books were not back on the shelf again but there was a blanket on the sofa, a half-open book laying beside it. Crockery had been piled up, the scents of something spicy and earthy mixing in the air of the kitchen. You sat at the table with a mostly eaten bowl of what appeared to be curry in front of you, your fork lifting another load of vegetables and rice coated in sauce towards your mouth. He heard every bite of course but quickly tuned out the repetitive crunch of your chewing, standing awkwardly in the doorway as he took in the rustic feel of your kitchen in an otherwise modern house. Lots of natural wood on the countertops and kitchen island, making up the seat of the bar stools placed around and the cupboards that lined the walls. Terracotta tile lined the floor. It all looked so normal, but you were far from that.

“You keep odd pets.” He said finally, desperate to chase away the silence plaguing him. There was nothing but the eerie quiet until you finished the last few bites, moving your bowl to the sink and filling it with water before you set it on the side near the other washing up to be done. For a moment, you simply gripped the edge of the countertop and leaned over the sink. You didn’t look at him, nor speak to him, but your heart was thumping loudly in his ears and he could feel such tangible energy radiating from you it took all his willpower not to go to you. It would be as natural and as instinctual as breathing, to wrap his arms around your waist and breathe in your scent.

“Castor isn’t my pet.” Your answer was quiet yet so deafeningly loud when it shattered the silence. Demetri wasn’t sure what to say and he hated it. It wasn’t supposed to be like this! It wasn’t supposed to be so stilted and awkward. He opened and closed his mouth several times, trying to land on a topic of conversation that seemed safe, but nothing came to mind. With a heavy sigh, you finally turned to face him and clicked your fingers. His head snapped towards the kettle when it began to boil without you touching it, his eyes widening slightly. A teacup flew right past his head, hovering before a box of tea leaves before a pinch of the leaves hopped obediently into the cup like a rabbit.

“What the…” he breathed, eyes snapping back towards you. You were watching him carefully, evaluating his reaction. Demetri quickly snapped his jaw closed and wiped his face of any and all emotion, but he was sure you had seen it all anyway.

“Sit. I think we need to talk.” You pointed to the chair opposite you and it pulled out for him. Warily, he approached to settle himself on the barstool opposite you, his spine stiff and the leather of his jacket squeaking as it was forced to bend at the elbows, his hands resting neatly on the wooden surface of the island you sat at. A freshly brewed cup of tea moved in front of you, the water not so much as rippling as it set itself down. You immediately curled your hands around it, the sleeves of your jumper half-covering your hands. Cosy, they like cosy he thought absent-mindedly.

“Y/N! The signal’s gone again!” that same voice, the racoon. Demetri couldn’t help but slouch now, holding his head in his hands as he tried to make something make sense. Your pet racoon (an odd choice in itself) could talk, you could apparently move things with your mind, and teleport from place to place, and set things on fire, and now…now…

“Of course its gone! We don’t technically live here anymore remember?” you called back with an irritated eye roll.

“Well how am I supposed to watch Judge Judy?” the racoon - Castor, he reminded himself – whined.

“Go on the roof and fix the aerial then, I’m busy!” the irritation in your tone was obvious and he fell silent at that. Demetri lifted his head, looking at you honestly and openly for the first time since you met. He was confused, and desperate, and the one thing he wanted more than anything else right now was you. Your life story, your deepest fears, your passions, he wanted everything you were willing to give. None of the dizzying nonsense he was faced with.

“I have to understand,” he pleaded, “I have to understand you, please. Please, help me, understand you.” For a second, your eyes flashed. Regret, indignation, anger, defeat, hopelessness. Then your shoulders sagged, and your gaze turned to the depths of your teacup, watching the steam dance and dissipate.

“I can’t really help you. I don’t understand me either.” You answered. Demetri’s frown deepened, his desperation swelling into anger that he couldn’t suppress.

“No. No you do not get to sit there after this futile game of chase and-“

“Futile?” you snapped your eyes to him again.

“Was it not? I found you anyway. We are where we were always destined to end up.” He pointed out, lifting a hand to gesture between you both across the table from each other. He pressed his palms into the surface of the island, closing his eyes and taking a calming breath.

“Nothing in this life is inevitable.” Your voice was cold as an arctic wind. Demetri counted to ten before he opened his eyes to try again.

“What did you mean? What do you not understand? Your gift?” he questioned. A mirthless laugh escaped you, your smile entirely false as you appraised him with so much condescension and loathing in your stare it made his heart sink. You hated him. You hated him and you had no idea how much that killed him inside.

“My gift? My power. Whatever your aim was in coming here you won’t confuse me, tempt me away with you like I’m some simple, gifted child that needs a tutor. I know and understand what I am fully. I have honed my craft and my identity for 260 years and then you come along-“ you inhaled sharply, looking at your teacup once more before blowing on it once and downing it in one quick gulp. You hadn’t drained it all, and the remainder of the water was swirled from left to right three times over before a saucer appeared in front of you, and you slowly began to invert the cup. Demetri realised he had lost your attention as you slowly completed this ritual, and only when your cup was sitting upside down on the saucer did you move your eyes back to him.

“Your craft?” he asked finally.

“Yes, my craft. Witchcraft, to be precise.” You huffed. Demetri could only stare at you, dumbfounded by the answer. Witchcraft? Witches didn’t exist he was sure, and yet…werewolves had, vampires did, and the things you could do had to come from somewhere. Nobody in the world he knew of had more than one gift. And 260 years? You were barely a day over twenty surely! The youthful glow of your skin, the speed and agility you possessed…you could not have been older than 25 he was sure.

"How do you-"

"Sh." you rotated the upside-down teacup three times and flipped it upright once more, pointing the handle due south if he had guessed correctly. With a flick of your wrist the saucer full of remaining tea moved to the washing up pile and you leaned over the cup to stare at the contents within. Demetri didn’t want to admit to you just how sceptical he was, but he had seen plenty of people ‘tell the future’ with tea leaves, and not a single one of them had ever been right in his experience.

“You do not need to divine how this conversation-“

“It’s not this conversation I want to know about,” you said sharply, casting him an irritated glare before moving the cup towards him, “I asked for what might happen to us now. The rim is the near future and the dog symbolises faithful friends.”

“So you may yet grow to like me, wonderful.” He murmured with a sigh.

“Or it could mean Castor. I very much like him.” you returned. Demetri shot you an exasperated look.

“Fine, if that is the near future than what about the future further away?” he questioned, unable to fight his rising curiosity and not wanting to start an argument with you again when you finally seemed to be open to talking to him. Your finger pointed to a line of tea leaves that looked indistinguishable from the rest to him.

“In the middle of the cup, the horse’s mane. There will be a prosperous journey where desires will be fulfilled.” You informed him. Demetri raised an eyebrow. You would have to come back to Volterra with him at some point surely? If he could win your favour you would eventually move in with him since he couldn’t just quit the guard, didn’t want to either. Did it mean that? The prospect gave him more hope than he dared to admit.

“Where will this journey lead to?” he asked.

“It doesn’t work that way. This is divination, not a bullet point plan.” You reprimanded. Demetri had been so lost in your teacup he startled when the racoon jumped up beside him, a snicker escaping the little bastard. He fought the urge to swat at him, knowing it wouldn’t help him win you over if he tried to assault your friend. Your racoon friend…who could talk…good lord what had he gotten himself into?

“Fine, so we have one ambiguous teacup telling us our future holds faithful friends and a prosperous journey, but we do not know who these friends are or where this journey will take us, so we are no further forward than we were when we started.” Demetri pointed out, folding his arms over his chest. Your eyebrows rose.

“There happens to be a serpent’s fork tongued in the bottom of the cup, in the distant future.” You said, your tone ominously dark now. The racoon stiffened a bit, hopping forward to peer inside, nose twitching at the pungent smell of tea leaves. Demetri could sympathise with the thing on that account at least.

“And?” he prompted.

“Serpents signify spiteful enemies,” Castor sniffed, sitting on his hind legs again and scratching at his head.  “Distant is good though, we can plan for distant.”

“Forgive me but how is that racoon talking?” Demetri demanded, slowly losing his mind with every word that slipped from his mouth.

“That racoon? That racoon! Does he want to test whose teeth are sharper? I have a name you loathsome little leech!” he squeaked indignantly.

Demetri hissed slightly. “Then have it engraved on a collar.”

“Oh you – take that – the impertinence!” he could barely squeeze out a sentence, hissing and squeaking in between words as his lips trembled in a snarl, beady little eyes narrowed in the most vicious glare Demetri had ever seen on a racoon. If his skin wasn’t as impenetrable as it was he would actually be afraid of the feral little shit.

“Enough!” you cried, “Castor happens to be my familiar and you will treat him with the respect he deserves while you’re in my house and you! You stop antagonising him!” Demetri looked at you incredulously, Castor giving another annoyed little squeak before he scurried away, grumbling about rude vampires and ungrateful witches. Dropping your head in your hands you took a few deep breaths, and Demetri finally saw just how exhausted you were for the first time that night. He had been getting closer every time he tracked you, a brush of his fingers on your backpack and his hand actually around your arm once, but he had never once caught you until now. He was starting to suspect it wasn’t by accident either.

“Y/N…why now?” Demetri asked quietly. His eyes searched your face, but you didn’t dare meet his gaze, head hung low and fingers tightening in the roots of your hair.

“Because I am so tired of running from you. I am so, so tired…and I have nothing else,” you looked up, eyes swimming with emotions he couldn’t quite define just yet, “I have no final destination. Not even this house is mine anymore so tell my why exactly should I keep running? What am I running towards? Where do I run to?” Demetri stared you down, unsure what to say. He knew what he wanted to say, knew that he wanted to tell you you had been running from fate all along, from the very future your teacup told you you could have with prosperity and faithful relationships abundant. He sensed you weren’t ready for that yet, he had barely managed one civil conversation with you.

“Y/N, the signals back but Judge Judy’s finished! Can we get back deleted recordings from the box?” Castor yelled through. Y/N glanced briefly at the living room and shook her head. He had the most uncanny habit of interrupting for the most unimportant things at the most important moments.

“Stay, or don’t. Just don’t kill my familiar, or anyone else for that matter.” You said. With that, you left him in the kitchen trying to digest exactly what he had seen and heard that evening.

He also really needed to figure out a way to coexist with that racoon.