#awful ass scaffolding

[sea-side-scribbles]

he stood there for days

[bigcats-birds-and-books]

apparently i am SO aroace that i cannot figure out if two of my own damn characters should be in a (romantic, sexual) relationship

[soarrenbluejay]

Can’t remember where I’ve seen the idea first but I’ve had this idea of Regular Clowns taking offense to joker’s bullshit for a while now and exacting Vengeance. The man doesn’t even has an egg! His ass never been to clown school! He’s a disgrace to them all!

So four buddies leaving the traveling circus business decide as people who have loved every second of this and are Deeply Insulted by this wanker to Do Something About It.

Three of them are showmen- an acrobat, a juggler, a fire fanatic, the works.

The last one, Jerry, is a stage hand. He is their most powerful member- not only does he have the superpower of self care, but he’s a meta! Minor telekinesis is actually really useful when shuttling stuff around in a stage in a hurry! (And that whole thing of our idea of ninjas coming from stage hands in all black being ‘invisible’ yeah. Cryptid vibes, except it’s just Jerry)

So. A clown car pulls up in Gotham, in the middle of a Joker attack, presumably despite ever Gothamite on the road who saw it making their best effort to take one for the team and mow them down. This is a no good awful sign for Gotham.

But it gets better.

Because out does not step a bunch of goon reinforcements in masks, or some jokerified poor soul, but instead someone in one of those historical jester costumes, bells and dramatic ass sleeves and all. Also, they’re bright orange. It is slightly eye searing. In one hand is the end to a long line of tied together handkerchiefs in clashing neon colors which appears to be infinite bc it just keeps coming. In the other is a comedically oversized hammer with a squeaky sound effect installed but no spring to soften the blow- it in fact has spikes with little Mayfair banners hanging off.

They immediately attempt to strangle/bash Joker to death with a winning smile firmly in place, and actually survive the attempt of which by apparent virtue of being made of rubber or something. And out slides our fire master, in all teal for contrast, who promptly throws smoke bombs at the crowd of goons around and starts all but boa staffing them down with his fire wand, paired with a dramatic speech about how Joker is in insult to the idea of circus and also the most unfunny bitch to ever walk the earth.

Lastly, the juggler. They have come armed. With glitter and hackysacks. A dramatic beatdown ensues, with much shrieking and yelling on all sides. A gif is made of Joker being bonked right through a concrete wall with a move right out of a video game. Several goons get concussions a la bowling pins. It’s all being live streamed by someone through their apartment window and is rapidly going viral. It’s a good time mostly because this attempt at vengeance against the Clown Bitch Gotham did not immediately involve some one getting very anticlimacticly shot.

No really takes note of the guy in all black and ski mask, calmly standing in the middle of the flaming chaos. He occasionally holds out a new set of props for the juggler, an oversized great sword for our acrobat jester, some nitroglycerin for blowy uppy efforts, the works. Until he starts calmly putting together a three story set of scaffolding for the gang to use for the purpose of beating the crime king’s skull in in even more ridiculous ways and also so jester can showcase their absolute lack of a spine.

And Jerry goes back to standing in the middle of this chaos, apparently unaffected by Literally Everything going on. His friends are fucking crazy, he’s used to it.

Meanwhile, Ghost King Danny gets a new urgent appeal at his ghostly royal desk- someone is attempting to enact vengeance against the joker and move approximately 46363883 souls along doing it, except it’s not the Red Hood this time! It’s Some Random Guys that a minor mischief god is now attempting to fast track layering with blessings! Said minor god is officially appealing for the Ghost Monarch’s support. Danny is conflicted- on one hand, he Fucking Hates Clowns. And has a major hero worship thing going on for Red Hood, a fellow supernatural hero (in the dead’s eyes) much his senior. However, the idea of a bunch of nobody’s beating the joker to death at the same time as declaring how shit of a clown he is IS pretty hilarious.

He gives it the stamp of Yes, provided others seeking vengeance (aka red hood, the thousands of joker victims in Gotham, anyone who wants to go spectacular viral) can still intervene to catch some own hands, a minor merriment/will of the people god does a jig on the spot, and back with the Justice Circus Brigade, ghouls and Spectors alike start popping up to join in on the fun! Which our beloved ren faire rejects are actually pretty okay with- big enough circus events in the DC universe have a bad habit of becoming possessed/very obviously haunted/Ooky Spooky like, every few months. And these guys look much friendlier than whatever the hell has been in the house of mirrors these last few months!

Red Hood isn’t sure how he’s suddenly in the middle of upper Gotham when he’s was decidedly Nowhere Near three seconds ago, but that’s a problem for later when the Bitch Ass Clown Extraordinaire is Right There!! So he tables it to be very paranoid about later, shrugs, and starts shooting. Jester starts shouting out points for accuracy/comedy, Jerry calmly asks if he wants some of their backup silver bullets just in case The Target really is an unholy being of some sort. (They have taken Precautions. For Everythinf. Or at least Jerry did.) Jason can’t say no to free extra ammunition and also That’s Hilarious, man he has to hire these guys!

Then fire juggler molotov’s the joker, and he decides these idiots are ABSOLUTELY worth saving from the big bad bat. Fuck it, this morons are the BEST.

[jack-kellys]

i said i’d post more notes so here are some MORE uk notes, organized enough for u to skip to whichever part u wanna read first. main hits in order are:

1. delanceys as a whole actually

2. jack and physicality (bodily and visually)

3. davey and leaders

4. ensemble notes at the end. here we go!

also all my other analyses so far r linked at the bottom <3 go look

~the delancey brothers!~

so help me i love these guys. i hate them so much and i rly don’t think they’ve been this evil before, like i think. they were more of a cartoonish school bully kind of threat.. but like. nah dude. these are strikebreakers. and they act like it.

they are both taller than essentially all of the newsies except davey. which idt has been true in the past but is significant based on the fact that jack kelly is usually cast always under 5’10 i THINK.. to show he’s still a kid. these delanceys just look bigger, and are older. they don’t interact as much with anyone wearing knickers instead of full-length pants. except.

when each newsie goes up to grab their papers, oscar does a different mean thing to LITERALLY EACH ONE OF THEM. he’ll drop them, or fake a kid out (his fake out w/ buttons has made me jump each time i’ve sat close enough in woodside LMAO he nearly hits him!!), or hold the papers away from them, or push them into their chest. or just give them a sneer. like he is just awful LMFAO

another thing is that they smile very easily when they are doing horrible things. it’s so fucking cool HAHAH but ok lemme go chronologically i’ll speak on dis later

when jack is writing up on the chalkboard, he’s not fighting some guy- it’s oscar, dude. jack and oscar literally go at it, and jack is so physical in this show so when he’s fighting his whole body is fighting. jack shoves oscar down onto the stairs, oscar gets up and tries to grab him but jack SHOVES HIS ENTIRE FOOT into oscar’s stomach and literally pushes him with everything he’s got and oscar tumbles into the stairs, knocking more wind out of him, and is coughing and shit all while “strike!” goes up on the board. god. it rly is the way jack has to put his whole body into making sure oscar can’t get up… it must be an even fight normally

when -5 newsies show up to the gate and they have the “ahh oscar we got bum information” it’s like… they don’t have to intimidate to intimidate. “my skull bustin’ arm” isn’t cartoonish, bro, it’s a fucking fact. and then oscar just laughs, and it’s not evil it’s like bc this is genuinely fun and amusing to him that they are going to kick some kid ass. man!

and then they do i mean i think it’s brass knuckles to the face that take crutchie out… they might kick him too. idr i’m watching all the kids run for their lives during the fight tbh.

MORE IMPORTANTLY, THEY SHOW UP WITH BATS. and it’s not like. a little stage combat bop to the face via a wrist motion— morris at least is swinging with two hands at these kids like he’s tryna hit a home run. it’s choreographed well obv, so he doesn’t even have to slow his swing it’s literally a straight up… if a kid got hit with that they’d be down for the rest of the strike. period bro. it’s kinda fuckin terrifying.

act 2 baby! pulitzer’s office. when pulitzer is extorting jack, when he says “oh, but it’s not right to condemn that little cr*ppled boy to conditions like those…” oscar. fucking. looks over to his brother. and smiles. no it was not a one night thing either. it is every. time. pulitzer mentions crutchie. and it’s chilling, it’s slow and knowing and BAD ASF !! then they haul jack off.

he’s taken upstage behind the scaffolding towers while pulitzer sings the rest of the reprise, but there’s enough light to see what’s going on between the three of them. and what’s going on is that jack is held to the wall while the delanceys take turns punching him. like. whole-shoulder-into-it hits. in the ribs so no one can visually see. oh. my. god. they wrench him downstage and toss him to the ground, jack actually falling and sliding (unlike….proshot where jerjor stumbles to the ground ig) onto his stomach during “we’ve been given discretion..” (discretion only, which is why they rough jacks up privately as he technically hasn’t given the brothers a reason to smack him around..) jack looks like he’s about to get up when my perhaps my favorite detail in the show happens. everyone listen closely:

oscar puts his foot down, on jack’s shoulder. his right shoulder. the shoulder of which fic writers and headcanoners for years have been including as some place where jack has chronic pain after an injury. and michael does a few shoulder moments through the show if you’re really looking (not as obv as jerjor but more natural maybe) and like. and oscar stands on it and pushes jacks back to the ground. holy FUCKING SHIT! ITS!!!! ITS THERE!!! our fucking!! the Thing!!!!! the fucking lore bro like does oscar know it’s sensitive for jack… duuuude. evil delanceys best delanceys

anyway they literally rock. pay attention to them onstage if u can! also the actors r quite funny together and they often do a bull-and-cape bows choreo thing w/ george running thru alex’s mimed cape <3

speaking of jack though, …jack!!

im not making this up jack does tilt davey’s chin up at some point i just don’t remember when… it has to be sometime on seize the day. it’s.. i don’t think i’m making this up.

he does make a point of tilting… might’ve been romeo’s chin up during the seize the day speech during “ain’t no crime to being poor,” and jack makes a movement for the kid to hold his head up. ugh. jack’s pride through this show is a wild wild journey because all it really is.. is within other people. god. god…

another big jack thing as i like to yell abt is his physicality.. when he’s impressed he’s soft and when he needs to get something out of someone or get them away from him he’s distinctly rougher. his physical action is also quite purposeful and feels less reactive than it does like… thought through. even when he’s tugging himself away from les even it’s like an “oh, get off of me already”. it’s a slow, sort of just sick-of-it motion, it’s a wind-up into pulling his arm away (oh this could. be because it’s his bad shoulder and oscar had dug his heel into it the night before. hold tf on WOAH WOAH!!!! rizz ghost-directed this production fr) before of course he realizes it’s les. like it’s very clear he’d be the type to hide an injury really well and then when he lets himself feel it he feels it.

continuing the end of the rally though oh my god. he basically stands upstage center as everyone passes him. everyone he’s ever known passes him and insults him and shoves him but what’s interesting is like. the money is still in his hand. and no one takes it. idk it’s just cool. but literally everyone has words to say to him (well, some spit at him), because honestly, jack said words to them.

significantly, and i can’t stress this enough, jack is an extremely good observer and because of this he does think before he speaks.. in a way. he bases it around a person for sure though, specifically: during the seize the day speech, he goes up to race (he makes his rounds through the whole stage during this part, getting to speak to every newsie on stage. it’s really.. ah, moving, tbh) when he says “they are slaving to support themselves, and their folks” BECAUSE he’d been seeing race and davey not get along (hello to my post about that) through most of the show.. because of davey’s privilege of having a home. inversely, during the rally ‘speech’ jack says “how long can you go without making money” to fucking tommy boy, WHO HAD BEEN A SCAB. tommy literally stands up from the ladder he’s sitting on too bc literally how dare jack… like that is SO. specific.

^but, it also shows that jack definitely knows the methodology of trying to win people over. he knows how to be persuasive, he just obviously isn’t at the rally bc he’d been even more persuasive during seize the day.

• caveat. race is literally so fun to watch during the rally. because he quite literally is only here for the cause because of jack, like if jack wasn’t leading it… idt he’d be in support of it. (especially based on his dislike of davey). he does this “oh my god” of disbelief when jack says to vote no, shaking his head and laughing a little. it’s just. horrified. and it’s gradual too, like he slowly realizes what is going on, that jack is selling out vs. being genuine. ugh. love this racetrack so much but anyway

davey’s shove to jack when he goes to get les is like so small and light in the way of like. not wanting to touch him. because WWH reprise had been filled to the brim of davey touching jack and now davey can barely even fathom it. god they are so going out. also i think it’s interesting that dave and les are the ones to take on and off jack’s newsie square mural, since they’re the only two who have been in the know of jack’s talent since towards the start of the show (meddas)… cool choice.

santa fe for this jack feels the least tangible, like it’s very much in his mind. from it being ingrained in the set, and certainly the moon expanding and practically consuming him from behind, it’s very… dreamlike and visual. when davey walks in on jack painting he’s like “ohhhh is that santa fe. lmao.” LIKE?? it’s very not real in this which is interesting. because jack is very very good at running in this. so it’s cool that this rly is the one time he can’t (when he wants to).

also it rly is the way that the mics caught the ripping noises when jack is taking off the portraits from his penthouse’s overhang… the slow one at the end of “ you stole for those boys, didn’t you?” whew. and he looks at it. and then hides it. god

also, and i’m realizing this hasn’t been canon before: jack is packing a bag to literally leave. he has the money, he kept the jacobs out of jail, he has to go. because his pride does reside in others, and when there seems to be no one left, he has to leave. of course he does. god…

davey time.

the holding of davey’s head is after world will know while the tables are being set up. finally nailed down when tf this happens lmao

“oh, wow… well. you’re really good.” davey covers up when he’s impressed in favor of a statement of fact. he doesn’t like giving away his position, even when it’s not about the strike (/this foreshadows his hesitancy in the next scene, and his statements of facts about how strikes work accidentally backfiring as a stalling tactic and turn into actual reasons to strike).

davey laughs when he’s nervous, which makes when he’s smiling and when he’s not.. quite stark. his resting face is a little inquisitive frown, like he’s always kind of listening. but yeah for his spotlight at the rally he literally is like “oh haha! um- umm, haha— NEWSIESOFNEWYORK. haha! ummm, we got kids from- from every neighborhood!!” i love him. just the concept of meaning what you say so much that it needs to come out of you no matter what form it takes. @we-are-inevitable and i have talked abt poet!davey before and yeah it was uk davey who it stemmed from for a reason.

the role call moment in seize the day is cringe but genuinely davey’s will never not make me laugh bc like HE THINKS it’s cringe too. but what he also does is not call himself david. he says davey. during a role call. names. and it’s davey. do y’all understand

i actually will probably never shut up about crutchie’s open arms to davey after the refuge and davey rly just falling into it my god.. it makes me so emotional. and they talk for so long…

• to this point, i think it’s rly interesting how leaders, specifically, gravitate towards davey. charlie is talking to the guy upon impact- after world will know the two of them are borderline speaking over jack.. the blocking has charlie turned inward towards davey while sitting on the table, which blocks jack off. race argues with davey partway thru the pre-seize the day scene enough so for jack to push race back. and spot LOVES davey. he’ll try to look toward jack and she will bring him right back down to her level and get him looking at her again and they RUN OFF WITHOUT HIM even though they’re all headed to the same place. like lmao. davey is built to lead and engage, there is just something within his nature that is desperate to come out that all the other leaders tease out in different ways. tbh katherine too. DEFINITELY katherine too, since they’re attached at the hip.

we end the davey section with a javid moment idr if i’ve mentioned or not: when jack sets the deal to buy back papers with pulitzer, the transition back to newsie square is davey running. running to jack, katherine a ways behind, and grabbing jack’s shoulders with his eyes widened. well? and jack kinda shrugs, he’s playing it cool before he just grins, and davey rattles jack’s arms before they like. their hug is so close and intimate and rough and davey shoves jack into him, it’s the kind of hug that rocks them side to side a bit. my god. it’s unbelievable. can’t believe they got away w that level of homo onstage <3

speaking of homos im gonna go thru some ensemble quick stuff

albert and crutchie are close friends in this which is so cool. albert is also like consistently the one to pick anyone up off the ground, be it crutchie or les or another kid. it’s just what he does and it helps to not single out crutchie as well. he’s just so helpful and unhinged. like what a weird fucking paring he’s so crazy LMAO

finch is the one who starts the boos during the rally, loud and abrasive and angry. he and race are standing at manhattan with… ooh. idk. it might be splasher but literally do not quote me. finch is just so abrasive through this whole show i fucking love him. loud weirdo

mike is the angriest newsie in town. he is always yelling before a dance break

every time jojo and jack interact it’s like he’s picking up his baby brother or he’s hugging him etc and it like literally makes me emotional lololol. wow

jack bromage was fully back as tommy boy for my show (he’d been out for a bit/doing partial things bc of an injury!!) and THANK GOD because he is. and i’ve been over this but he is literally so cool LMAO he is For The Cause.

buttons is literally so cool in this despite his name. he steals from a vendor before getting the other newsie he’s with to toss their fruit to a sitting-alone splasher, his bit with the delanceys gets him pissed, he’s just consistently ready to actually throw hands and appreciate him for it. kind of serves uhhh livesies tommy boy energy which is fantastic

henry just has a lot more lines in this which surprises me every time. either that or he talks a lot just when he’s onstage LMAO

specs kind of always either literally leads or encourages the movement when newsies are in the aisles/city alleyways, which makes sense— of course the lookout would know the city back and forth!! god! i love him. i do wish we had a black actor again but sam is very sweet <3

that’s all! i say, having done another multiple thousand-word analysis post. thanks for joining me once again gents.

my past analyses have been about:

the show at large +principal characters,

davey,

something to believe in’s new perspective,

other general notes/characterizations,

and racetrack!

[pidgecv]

on todays episode of “pidge gets sleepy and rants about rat girl again”: character flaws

now i’m all for randomly op flawless self insert adjacent characters, but this character coexists with other characters which makes flaws important for interesting character interactions and running dynamics.

I’ve already mentioned Cleo is a trashy awful garbage fighter to balance out her dexterity and, well, for lack of a better term manipulation skills (that meaning she has the means to appeal to people’s humanities and weaknesses in order to gain something, intimidate, or extract information or whatever). but it really doesn’t stop there.

Cleo is incredibly emotional. She’s driven by her heart more than her head a lot of the time. she’s not stupid, but she develops attachments to arbitrary things and gets tunnel vision really easily. She’s quick to cry when she’s scared or frustrated, and her poker face is practically non existent. she’s got a few pretty obvious tells when she’s lying (she’ll blank on simple details or start fidgeting when parroting a conscious lie), and she’s quick to rage and hold grudges over dumb stuff. she’s also pretty quick to forgive on the other hand, trusting people far too easily at the slightest show of humanity.

one of her character traits is rampant paranoia for better and worse. not as much towards people as the world around her. she can’t sleep unless she feels 100% safe in an environment and will pace around nervously, checking for cracks in walls or broken windows or unlocked doors. she’s human, and needs more sleep on average than the others in order to function properly, and so it can take a toll on her over time. i personally think she’d be more paranoid than V or Jo since she’s got more to lose, not being immune to the infection. there are more active threats for her to contend with (though on the flip side of that survivors are more likely to be friendly towards her than with V and Jo) plus she’s kinda got a history with old building collapses, so whenever something looks sketch at all she’s knocking on walls and throwing rocks on haphazard scaffolding before proceeding which slows her down a lot while scavenging.

there is more im positive since i think i wrote in a weakness for every strength she has, but i’m completely drawing blanks at this point since i’m very tired (and my cat is scratching and crying at my door i might have to biden blast his ass it’s very distracting). thank you for coming to my ted talk.

[jesuisgourde]

i loooove both the trainspotting films so much and i was really surprised that i liked t2 because i tend not to like sequels. and because porno is such a weird book i couldn’t imagine how they’d turn it into a film. but it’s so good and they didn’t really try to turn the book into a film it was more like a sequel to the trainspotting movie that had its scaffolding in the book but i think it was an amazing adaptation because it didn’t focus on porno’s whack ass plot and instead was more like a character study after 20 years which tbh is my favorite kind of media.

also i’m properly obsessed with the trainspotting book series. i read trainspotting in like 2016 and then porno in 2019 and skagboys in 2021 and i just love all the characters i love what irvine welsh does with his fucked up characters and the ways in which he makes them human and how his narrative mechanic allows them to be really rounded out but also means that you still don’t know certain characters who just don’t even allow themselves to talk to themselves. like you get an idea of begbie by how he thinks of himself but you know it’s not the whole picture but he doesn’t let himself think honestly of himself and the views of the other characters don’t shine much more light on him. and comparatively there’s spud who the other characters think of in one way but who is extremely honest to himself and so you get a much more complete image of him. renton and sick boy are right in the middle but they’re in the middle in different ways and are honest about or lying to themselves about different things.

i just really like the narrative mechanics irvine welsh uses and i think it’s a hard thing to make coherent, the jumping between first person narratives and sometimes third person and making it all feel balanced and not confusing or jarring, and he does it so well and it makes all the characters so enjoyable because even the ones who are really awful bastards like begbie and sick boy are still fascinating and maybe a little bit “likeable” because they’re written as humans and not just evil caricatures.

[ilici]

i feel like a god.

Summary: Demi god C!Dream & God C!Foolish fight for what’s theirs, you.

(I will be making up some backstory & new powers so ignore them if you want)

NSFW MINORS DNI !!

Warnings: Thigh riding, choking, unsafe sex.

Word Count: 3428

“Y/N!” Foolish yelled, as he jumped down from the mansion he was building, and Y/N looked up as he fell, “Oh, hello Foolish.” She greeted politely, “What are you doing in snowchester?” Foolish asked, and Y/N looked around and pointed down towards the white fox that was hiding behind her leg, “I found this little guy and figured I’d give him to Tubbo.” She explained, and Foolish grinned and nodded, “Well it’s good seeing you, I haven’t seen you in a while, what have you been up to?” He asked her curiously, and Y/N reached down picking up the white furred creature, “I’ve been visiting Dream a lot, and trying to help him find a way out.” She said petting the fox on it’s head, and Foolish looked at her shocked. “You’re trying to find a way for Dream to escape?” He asked, and Y/N nodded her head, “Are you crazy?!” He asked grabbing her shoulders, and Y/N winced. “I’ve talked to him, he’s been getting better.” Y/N said in a small voice, and Foolish sighed, letting her go, “Just know what you’re getting yourself into.” He warned, before he started scaffolding his way back up to the mansion.

Shaking her head, Y/N kept the fox in her arms as she walked to the small cabin that Tubbo was living in. Knocking on the door, she was greeted with a chest, sighing she slowly looked up and greeted Ranboo with a gentle smile, “Hello Ranboo, I have brought Tubbo a little present.” She said, raising the fox up a bit, and Ranboo hunched over a bit to get a clear view of the small animal, “He’s upstairs with Michael, come with me.” He said, as he hunched over dragging his hand along the ceiling so he wouldn’t hit his head. Y/N followed in behind, watching as Ranboo’s tail swayed back and forth with every step he took. She let out a small ‘umph’ when she hit into Ranboo as he stopped, “Okay, up here.” He said, as he just reached up pulling himself up. Y/N on the other hand, moved the fox under one arm, and climbed the ladder with one hand as safely as she could. Making it up, she closed the door behind her so Michael wouldn’t get out.

“Y/N!” A happy voice chirped as she heard little thumps running towards her. Grinning, she looked down at the smaller boy, his horns portraying past his fluffy hair, “Hi Tubbo! I brought a present.” She said, as Tubbo backed away, his hooves padding against the floor as Michael ran up looking at the adults in curiosity. “Whoa.” Tubbo said amazed, “It’s a baby?” He asked, looking at the small creature under her arm, “Yeah, I found it without its parents so I thought I’d bring it to you.” She explained, as Tubbo gently took the small fox from her. “Aw Ranboo look at it!” Tubbo exclaimed, and Ranboo chuckled, as he picked Michael up with his tail, “What are you going to name it?” Y/N asked Tubbo, as she kept her attention on Michael and Ranboo. “Well, I will need to find out its gender, but I will probably name it something gender neutral.” He said, as he cooed at the small animal.

“Well I’ll be heading off, I have to go visit someone.” She said, waving goodbye, “Come back soon!” Tubbo said sweetly, while Ranboo nodded in agreement. “Bye guys! Bye Michael!” Y/N said, and Michael looked over as he heard his name before he waved back shyly. Crawling down the ladder was much easier this time, as she wasn’t holding an animal in her arms, “Oh! Y/N! One more thing!” Tubbo yelled sticking his head out of the door, “Could you give this to Foolish? I was meant to give it to him but I forgot.” He said, handing her some gold blocks. “Oh, sure!” She said, putting them away, “Well bye now!” Tubbo said, before closing the door again. Softly laughing Y/N walked out of the small home, and began her journey back to the mansion that Foolish was working on. Looking up, she saw Foolish was no where in sight, growing confused she opened the door and walked inside. She gawked at the sight of the beautiful interior.

“Y/N?” A voice from behind her spoke, and Y/N yelped jumping, “Oh my god.” She said, slapping Foolish’s chest, “Where did you come from?” She said, attempting to calm her heart rate that picked up from the jump scare. “Oh, I was up there.” He said, pointing up towards the windows, “And you just jumped? Without water?” She asked, and Foolish nervously chuckled, “Maybe?” He said, and Y/N scoffed pointing a finger at him. “That is dangerous, you know how it feels when you have to respawn.” She scolded and Foolish looked down, “I know, it’s not the best feeling in the world.” He admitted, “So what did you need?” He asked trying to change the subject so he wouldn’t get scolded anymore. “Right! Tubbo said to give this to you.” She said handing him 5 gold blocks, “I was just about to go ask him about this.” Foolish said, taking the gold blocks from her gracefully. “So where are you headed to now?” He asked her, as the two walked out of the mansion. “I’m on my way to go pay Dream a visit.” She said, and Foolish looked at her, “Can I tag along?” He asked, and Y/N eyed him suspiciously, before slowly nodding.

“I suppose you can, I will have to convince Sam to let us both in there since he is limiting peoples visiting hours since the Red Banquet is coming up and he doesn’t want word to get to Dream.” She said, as the two walked, “Makes sense.” Foolish nodded, as he sighed readjusting his golden mask on his face, “Foolish?” Y/N spoke up, “Yeah?” He asked, “May I know why you wear that mask? I know Dream also wears one, but yours is just so different.” She said looking at him with peaked curiosity. Foolish hesitated about answering before he sighed, “Nobody’s really asked that before but I guess I can trust you.” He said, and she looked at him as he grabbed her wrist pulling her towards his body. “Close your eyes.” He whispered, and she slowly closed her eyes before she felt her entire body run cold, “Open.” He said, and she looked around confused as she was now in front of the prison. “What?” She asked and Foolish sighed, “The reason I wear this mask is because I have to.” He said, and Y/N looked over at him.

“If this mask ever comes off, it releases something in me that I do not want to be released, but I can’t take it off. Nobody can, from what I have seen.” He explained, and Y/N listened closely, “People have tried, friends, family, even myself but it won’t come off.” He said looking down, placing his hand on the musk and tugging but the mask only readjusted on his face. “I know what happens when it comes off, but it’s never happened.” He mumbled, and Y/N looked at him, “How do you know what happens?” She asked, “Because I have seen it happen before.” He said, looking up, his one eye visible now that the mask was readjusted. “You have? Where?” She asked, and Foolish looked away, “With Dream, and you.” He said, and Y/N’s eyes widened. “The day I accidentally took his mask off? Is that why only I could truly see what he looked like?” She asked him, and Foolish just nodded, “Only the person’s true love can see what they truly look like. To everyone else, it’s just a nonexistent hole for a face.” He mumbled, remembering everyones reactions when Dream’s mask fell.

“How come I can see your face right now?” Y/N said, reaching up and cupping his exposed cheek. Foolish looked at her and chuckled, “That’s because I am not what Dream is, he’s only half. He’s a demi god, which means he can’t show his face at all. While with me, I am a god and can show my face. But it will look different to everyone else. This is just a facade, this isn’t my actual face.” He said, moving away from her touch, “There, now you know.” He said before turning his attention to the prison, “Shall we?” he asked changing the subjects, “Yeah..” She mumbled, walking into the prison, “Sam! It’s me I brought Foolish.” Y/N said, and Sam instructed them to walk through the portal. Y/N always hated going through the portal, it always made her feel sick, and she didn’t like the excruciating pain that shot through her head each time she had to do it. Walking through, Y/N winced at the pain, before she stumbled out flipping Sam off who only laughed as it became a daily thing of her just flipping him off. “Good day Foolish.” Sam greeted, and Foolish nodded to him, “Hello Sam.” He replied, “Please put everything you have in the chests.” He ordered, and Y/N was already doing so.

Foolish side-eyed Sam before doing so, and he was soon instructed to sign multiple things. Once he was done, the two were led to the prison cell, “Okay, once this lava-” Sam was cut off by Y/N who placed her hand on her friend’s mouth, “Please, I have heard this every day for a month straight.” She pleaded, and Sam put his hands up in defense mumbling against her hand, “Just doing my job.” Pulling her hand away, she looked and saw that the lava was about done, and her friend came into view. Grabbing Foolish’s forearm, she guided him so he would not miss or fall off as they were being lead to the cell. “You’ve brought a guest I see.” Dream’s voice said, as they reached the cell and the lava around them started to enclose them in the cell together. “Yup.” Y/N said popping the ‘p’ as the blocker let down, and she was soon engulfed in a tight hug. “I saw you yesterday, calm down.” She giggled, returning the hug. Hearing a throat being cleared, the two separated reluctantly. “Hello Dream.” Foolish greeted, and Dream looked at him, “Foolish.” He nodded before going over and leaned against the wall.

“So tell me, what brought your ass here?” He spat, and Y/N looked between the two, as Foolish slowly approached Dream, “It seems to me that you’ve been manipulating my Y/N to help you escape.” He said, and Dream scoffed, “Your Y/N? First she isn’t some toy to be owned.” Dream reasoned, “Secondly, I am not manipulating her at all.” He said crossing his arms, and Foolish glared, “I don’t believe that one bit.” He said, “I don’t like the little game you’re playing with someone that I love.” Foolish said, trapping Dream between his arms, and Dream cocked his head to the side. “Someone you love? You saw that she took my mask off, you know that she loves me. But your little heart can’t accept that can it?” Dream mused, and Foolish growled, “Shut the hell up.” He grumbled, making a fist with his left hand and hitting the wall beside Dream’s head. Y/N watched the two, too scared to interject now that she found out they are stronger than they look. “It’s true.” Dream hummed out, and Foolish scoffed, “You and your stupid green eyes piss me off so much.” He said, and everyone in the room froze. 

“You saw what he looked like?” Y/N asked, and Foolish froze, not being able to look away from Dream who was also dumbfounded. “Do you love Dream?” Y/N asked slowly approaching the two, and Foolish looked down as Dream looked at him. “Y/N.” Dream said, and Y/N moved her attention to Dream, “Pull his mask off.” He ordered, and Y/N looked at Dream wide eyed, “What? No!” She said, and Foolish pushed off the wall before he grabbed Y/N by her wrist. “Do it.” He said, and Y/N looked up at him shocked, “Foolish what?” She said, and Dream repeated his order, “Pull it off.” Looking between the two, Y/N wrapped her fingers around the golden mask, before she softly tugged at it. Everyone in the room held their breath as the mask seemed to fall in slow motion. Y/N watched as the mask fell to the ground with a thud, before she slowly looked up, and she was greeted with lime green orbs looking at her. Looking closer, she saw that Foolish was now golden like the mask, but the only difference was his eyes. They were a bright green, and she found herself staring into them. 

“Your eyes are beautiful.” Y/N whispered, reaching up and cupped his face with her hands. “You said something was going to be released, what?” She asked him, searching his face for any sign. Before he could answer there was a green light that emitted from him, and Y/N covered her eyes, as she was pulled away by a pair of arms that wrapped around her torso pulling her towards them. “He’s getting his powers, don’t worry it’s safe.” Dream whispered in her ear reassuringly, and Y/N slowly nodded before it grew dim once the light was gone. “Uh..” Foolish said quickly looking away from Y/N, and she grew confused before she looked up at Foolish, and quickly looked away a blush engulfed her cheeks. Dream quickly let go, and looked away, as the three were now bare. “Where did our clothes go dip shit?” Dream asked, and Foolish rolled his eyes, “I don’t know why don’t you ask them?” He sarcastically replied, making sure not to look at Y/N.

“Your stupid blast or whatever, made them vanish.” Dream scoffed, and he covered himself, “Good going, it’s with a girl too.” He added, and Y/N just blinked before she blushed deeply covering herself. “Could we ask Sam for more clothes?” Y/N asked, keeping her sight on the ground, “We could.” Foolish said, and Y/N froze when she felt someones hand grab her chin, making her look up. “Or we could make this worth something.” He whispered, and Y/N shivered, looking at Foolish. “Don’t seduce the poor girl.” Dream said, rolling his eyes and Y/N turned to look at Dream seeing his chiseled chest. “Maybe we should.” She said cockily, wanting to see his reaction. Dream, who was looking away from the two, whipped his head around quickly to give her a shocked look. “You’re joking, right?” He asked, chuckling before looking between the two and Y/N shook her head, “I am not joking.” She said boldly, and Dream raised an eyebrow from behind his mask. “Don’t start something you won’t be able to finish.” He warned, and Y/N walked up to him placing a hand on his chest. 

“But I’ve already started.” She whispered, reaching up unclasping his mask. Dream groaned, and picked her up, “Wish Sam would’ve added a damn bed.” He complained, as he held Y/N, before he sat her on the podium after he knocked the book off. “We’re gonna finish what you started.” Foolish mumbled, as he watched Dream explore Y/N’s bare body with his hands. Y/N reacted in many ways to his touch, she’d shiver, whimper, and even whine. “Please I need more.” She begged, and Dream picked her up again, “You’re not ready yet.” He told her, as he sat down on the ground, propping himself up on the obsidian wall behind him. Placing her on his thigh, he looked at her, “This may feel weird, as my leg is bare.” He told her, and Y/N nodded her head as Foolish sat beside of them, wrapping his hand around her neck. Y/N let him guide her head back, as he passionately kissed her lips, as Dream started to guide her hips against his thigh. Y/N gasped into the kiss, and Foolish took this as a chance to quickly insert his tongue into her mouth.

Exploring her mouth as her moans were drowned out from the kiss, Dream kept her at an even pace letting her adjust to the feeling. When Foolish pulled away a string of saliva kept them connected, before she reached forward gripping onto Dream’s shoulders tightly as he sped up his pace. Y/N moaned out, and Foolish tightened his grip around her throat, which made Y/N have strained moans. “You sound so beautiful.” Foolish complimented, and Y/N blushed deeply as she felt herself growing close. “You’re not a virgin are you?” Dream asked, as he stilled his movements, and Y/N shook her head the best she could from Foolish’s grip around her neck. “Who took it?” Dream growled out, and Y/N whined, as Foolish once more tightened his grip, “It was about 7 months ago, me and Schlatt got drunk.” She whispered out and Foolish scoffed, throwing her to the side.

“We will fuck you way better than he ever did.” Dream said, standing up and Foolish picked Y/N up slamming her against the wall. “This will hurt.” He warned her, as he spat on his hand lubing himself up, and slowly slid into her. Y/N groaned, leaning her head back onto his shoulder, as she adjusted to his size. “Fuck.” Foolish muttered, wrapping his hand back around her neck as he slowly started thrusting up into her. “Tell me how you feel.” Dream said, as he watched the two, “I feel so good.” Y/N moaned out, and Foolish took this as a signal to speed up. Pounding up into her, Y/N cried out in pleasure, as she felt herself growing close. “I’m so close!” She yelled out, and Foolish grunted before whispering in her ear, “Cum.” Hearing him say that she quickly came, and she gasped as her entire body was engulfed with pleasure. Thrusting a couple more times, Foolish came deep inside of her. 

Pulling out, Y/N collapsed to the floor, as Foolish slowed her fall. “You’ve got one more round to go.” Dream said, as he picked her up off the floor, and made her bend over the podium a bit. Slapping her ass, she jumped before she moaned out as Dream slammed into her without a warning. “God you feel amazing.” Dream groaned out, as he started thrusting into her roughly. Dream was a bit bigger than Foolish, but she didn’t care as she was a moaning mess with both of their cocks. “Please-” She begged, feeling sensitive from her first orgasm. Dream ignored her plea, as he rammed into her with no remorse, and Y/N gripped the podium tightly, her knuckles going white. “I am going to cum so deep inside of you.” Dream growled out, and Foolish smirked as he watched the scene. Y/N let out a scream of pleasure as her second orgasm hit her, and her legs started to shake. Gripping her hips tightly, purposely leaving bruises, Dream came inside of her before he pulled out. 

Holding her up, he looked over at Foolish, “Get Sam, and tell him to bring clothes and a wet rag.” Dream ordered, and Foolish he had calmed down began to yell for Sam. Dream hid Y/N’s body from Sam’s view as the lava fell. “Could you guys be a little less loud next time?” Sam asked, a look of disgust on his face. The two men chuckled, as clothes were thrown over to them, and a wet rag. “No promises.” Dream said, shooting Sam a wink and he only got the middle finger in response. Cleaning Y/N up, the other two soon cleaned themself as they all got dressed. “Maybe I will help you escape.” Foolish said, as he patted Dream on the shoulder. “Shut up.” He rolled his eyes, as he picked up his mask putting it back on his face, as Foolish did the same. “Let’s go Y/N.” He said, and the two walked out, “Don’t have any fun without me!” Dream yelled to them, and they only laughed as the lava began to cover his cell once more.

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

HASO, “Approaching Countdown.”

Had to write this at work today, so sorry it is short. 

The GA chairwoman stood in the oppressive muggy heart of Earth. She really hated it, it made her skin itch and her eyes sting, there wasn’t enough water in their atmosphere to actually cause her any harm, but there was definitely enough of it to make her very uncomfortable. A part of her had hoped that it might rain, forcing her to stay off world for the weather formation, but these humans knew what they were doing and had scheduled the launch for a cloudless day.

She looked up at the yellow earth sun and sighed. The humans had been very excited to invite the GA delegations out to view the launch. Humans were generally very excited to show anyone they could their dangerous past, and looking at the thing that was passing for a spaceship, she could not see how it would get more than a few inches off the ground, much less out of orbit. Supposedly they had dipped into very rare rocket fuel reserves to even do this as it required fossil fuel.

Fossil Fuel!

Let that sink in for a moment.

Liquified dead plant and animal remains mixed with liquid oxygen and some sort of oxidizer. She wasn’t sure what that last part meant, she wasn’t a rocket scientist. She sighed again, personally she wished she didn’t have to be here, for she doubted the launch was going to go as the human expected. In all reality her nerves were shot and she wished that she could just pass out for the next few hours and forget where she was. Everything was out of her hands anyway. Her orders had been given and now all she could do was wait.

She stood in the heat not too distant from her array of human bodyguards,dressed in dark suits and wearing dark glasses to cover their eyes. Somehow they managed to look more intimidating than normal humans did frowning, missing the characteristic tooty smile she had grown to associate with humans.

Shehad spent far too much time with Admiral Vir it seemed.

She sighed at the thought of him and shook her head.

Every time she tried to think about something else, it just circled back around to him. She tried not to think about it, taking a very deep breath.

There was some shuffling behind her and she turned slowly on her knuckles feeling the concrete grinding below her hands as she did. Two Tesraki and one other Rundi stood behind her having been let through by the human guards, who still eyed them with some measure of suspicion.

“Everything is in place, Chancellor.”

She nodded her head once.

“How many?”

There are at least thirty patrolling the borders of the trajectory zone. They will know as soon as he breaches orbit.

“And our engineers?”

“We are having trouble gaining access, but we are still working on it.”

“You better hope that we can.”

She lifted her head towards the sky where she could see the faint line of the moon against the blueness of the sky.

“We better hope.”

***

Captain Richard’s palms were very sweaty. He tried to wipe them discreetly on his pants or more accurately a onesie the scientists were calling a “Liquid Cooling and Ventilation Garment. So like a Onesie with tubes in it. He glanced sidelong over to where Admiral Vir was sitting staring at the antique space suit equipment laid out before them. 

He tried not to make it look like he was staring, but he totally was.

Admiral Vir wasn’t much older than him, maybe by a year or two, but that was part of what made being in the same room with him so strange. Every time he, or probably anyone, though of an admiral, they generally thought of some stuffy grey haired fat guy who sat behind a desk and gave orders. But…. this guy…. Well he was nothing like that at all. He was young and stupidly fit, and sure he had some white hair appearing at his temples, but his hair was blond enough you only noticed it in certain light.

And he was very personable, that was the first thing Richards had noticed.

The man knew how to work a room. He was funny, and despite being intimidated by his status, he found himself forgetting constantly that this guy wasn’t someone cool he had just met out at the bar. 

As if he could sense someone looking at him, Admiral Vir turned around theappriture of his mechanical eye adjusting slightly. He grinned in a very un-admiral way, “This is so friggin awesome.” The man looked like he was about to jump out of his boots, “Just look at this stuff-” He grinned some more dancing from one foot to the other, “Happiest damn day of my life and I’m wearing a diaper.”

That got the rest of the shuttle crew laughing which then devolved into a discussion about the pros and cons of diapers versus the new suit catheters. There was a surprising split on the discussion as the group of men talked, a conversation that was only broken as a group of scientists stepped in to help them with their suits. The process was rather tedious, the suits were bulky and cumbersome, nothing like the neat, sleek and comfortable suits used on regular ships.

Stepping into the pants of the suit they had to hold their arms up as the upper portion was lowered into place over their heads while others hurried in to pull on their arms and then help them fit into the gloves. He ducked his head as the communications cap was placed over his head. They would be wearing the full suit into orbit, though they would be allowed to take it off on the journey over. A journey which would take roughly three days or more to complete. One of them would stay in orbit while Admiral Vir and Richards himself took the lunar module down to the surface.

It was all supposed to go very smoothly from here.

Once suited up he couldn’t help but be reminded of when he was a child ready to go sledding with his siblings, in his massive snow pants and puffy jacket, waddling across the floor with his arms held out to either side.

He honestly hoped he looked cooler than he felt.

Admiral Vir might have been able to pull it off if he wasn’t nearly skipping, which seemed pretty improbable in the massive ass snowman suit.

Glancing out the long windows and into the horizon, he could see crowds of people set up in the distance. Head was a teenager when the Enterprise Launched, standing in an awed crowd as the massive behemoth hauled herself into the sky. He remembered the thrill, and he remembered the fear as he watched it go higher and higher and higher.

He remembered that day as one that led him to where he was now, and couldn’t believe it.

***

 The UN president stood at her lectern feeling a soft breeze blow through her hair. Today was a good day, or at least it was shaping up to be a good day. She had two folders sitting under the lectern like she always did during times like this. One of them was green and one of them was red.

The red one was sitting on top.

She glanced over to where the GA president stood and scowled slightly. She had always thought the little creature was kind of ugly looking like an ant. She had never liked bugs, or bug like things of any kind, which she found to be a common trait among aliens, Drev, Vrul, Gibb, Rundi, Burg.

She looked up at the sky neck stretched out sunning herself in the bright morning.

She could see the rocket in the distance held up on its platform. Admiral Vir would be moving into place now. Most people would see this only as some sort of historical recreation act, but PR analytics suggested that, if the Admiral succeeded, approval rating in the GA would go up almost 3 percent. Human and alien relations had been rockier than most people would like to admit. If Admiral Vir were to fail, the failure would likely shock the aliens senseless, and if he died. It could completely break down human/alien relations for the foreseeable future.

They were on the cusp of cooperation or war, and any single event could push them in that direction.

Relations might have already broken down if it wasn’t for Admiral Vir.

The president reached down a hand brushing the tips of her fingers over the red folder.

***

Jade examined the rocket from the inside of her decontaminated engineer’s suit. She was busy going over final checks before the craft was launched. Personally she thought it was a bad idea. There was no reason to go and do something so dumb when they had perfectly viable technologies available at their fingertips. Of course, she understood the value and importance of major historical events, but that didn’t mean they had to reenact them. I mean it's not like anyone ever wanted toreinaced the titanic or the Berlin wall, or burning down the library of Alexandria, but for some reason some yahoos wanted to strap themselves to a rocket inside a tin can and fly into space.

Using the same EXACT design from TWO THOUSAND years ago.

Might as well start using steam locomotives to get around.

She inched her way along the scaffolding catwalk  just a few hundred feet in the air. She didn’t mind heights, butcher wasn’t stupid, and would enver risk herself unecissarily. She examined the bolts holding the ship together passing a critical eye over each and every one of them. If just a single one of them got loose, it might potentially pull the whole panel off. If that happened, the launch trajectory might destabilize and they could begin to spin into the ground and explode.

Off in the distance she heard an alarm calling her down from above.

She would need to leave soon, and so tucked her clipboard under one arm and began to climb down one of the ladders towards the distant ground.

It was then that she noticed something strange. She didn’t know why she noticed it, it was so small, and she was in a hurry but…. There was something…. Strange. She glanced over and squinted towards the strange reflection.

The siren continued to blare.

She should really go.

She started to descend but then.

“You might want to check that again.”

She nearly leaped out of her skin at the voice turning on the spot and pitching ackwards with wide open eyes nearly falling over the rail as she came face to face with a porcelain white face and wide black eyes like pools of onyx. For a second she almost screamed assuming she had gone insane, but then paused as she saw the figure floating before her a gravity belt around it’s waist, and hundreds of white ribbons streaming from it’s back.

A starborn!

She had seen a documentary mentioning them, even with a few images, so she knew who it was. She also knew that they could read minds.

It wasn’t supposed to be able to speak, but this one was wearing translation gloves, and spoke sign language rather fluently.

“You might want to check again.” It repeated

“But I-”

“The Admiral is expecting an attempt on his life, and the best way to do it would be to sabotage the shuttle. You will want to help me because if the Admiral dies, my daughter will be very upset.”

She opened her mouth then closed it, not sure how to respond but eventually turned back to the shuttle and leaned forward pointing to the side of the rocket, “That, right there, can you float over and take a look. The creature floated past her, billowing like smoke as he eased over. He pointed, “This?”

“Yes.”

He touched it.

“Can you feel it/” She wondered.

“It doesn't feel like the rest of the ship though I cannot say how.”

“Keep looking around, I need to call in-”

“NO!”

She frowned hand halfway to her mic.

“Don’t tell them, we don’t want them to know that we have found anything.

She wasn’t so sure about that, but she didn’t feel like pissing this thing off, so reached to her mic, “Mission control this is Engineering, i'll need a postpone on the launch while I finish off my checklist. This is taking longer than I anticipated.”

“Roger that.” mission control responded.

The sirens stopped a moment later as she urged the Starborn forward to prod at the spot. There wasa soft peeling noise, and after a moment, she watched as the creature came away with a strip of tape.

He floated over to her and she examined it. That shouldn’t have been there, this was not the heat resistant sort of tape they used, and it certainly wasn’t something they would have bothered to put on the outside of a ship. The only thing it seemed to do was match the paint color.

She leaned forward glancing at the side of the shi. If this had gone up during exit it would have burned off, and that would reveal. 

The loose bolt underneath. Just like she feared.

She could fix it and ordered the starborn to do so following the instructions in her head. After that she ordered him to take her vest camera and fly around the outside of the rocket. She had noticed based on the way the light interacted with the tape as compared to the finish of the rocket’s exterior. 

If only she had someone who was good at distinguishing subtle color, and then she remembered.

She called the starborn back.

“Go, get a Drev and hurry back here. I’ll try to stall them.”

[tooomuchtofu]

It’s denial at first, Tubbo thinks in retrospect, that kept him upright where he sat. Denial, along with a healthy dose of the same sort of emotional vacancy that’s gotten him through the past few years in this fucked up world. 

He sees the message on his communicator—of course he does, so does everyone—but his eyes skim over it. It’s just another accident. A bit too long of a fall. A friendly spar. An argument gone sideways. It didn’t stick, surely; whoever’s name he just read in chat felt the death slither down around them like a shed layer of snakeskin, stepped into another life just as easily as taking another breath. Whoever that was is probably sitting up in bed right now. 

It’s fine. It’s alright. Never mind the buzzing that’s started at the base of his skull. Ranboo cracks a joke and he laughs. Jack pokes his head out the doors of the Big Innit Hotel, shooting Tubbo a wary look. Tubbo nocks another arrow and the door slams shut. He puts the bow away. 

His hand drifts back to his communicator, because of course it does. He picks it off his belt, flicks it on and glances at the messages. Did he see that right?

Tubbo has to blink before the screen focuses, his eyes blurring. He’s never been a great reader, really. Even after he’s picked his way past every letter, though, the message above Jack’s most recent death blurs still. The words have flipped themselves on their heads, twisted into monstrous glyphs. Maybe Ranboo sent something in enderspeak. Maybe he’s asleep. 

“Guys, I think Tommy just died,” is what he hears himself say.

Maybe he did read that wrong. Maybe he did. Ranboo’s hand on his shoulder—out of nowhere, wasn’t Ranboo just on the other side of the path?—is the only thing aside from the letters. He still can’t make them out. He blinks again. That might help. 

“Oh my gosh,” Ranboo says, and for a breath, the death message might be real. He can feel his fingers shaking, can feel the cold edge of the communicator where he holds it. 

“Wasn’t he like, your best friend or something?” It’s Jack Manifold. Tubbo doesn’t know when he came outside. 

Tubbo stands, then, from where he’d, at some point, sat on a stray piece of scaffolding. Everything is all bright colors. All of it. There’s sun in his eyes. He thinks it might hurt. He’s looking at it. The white is better than the red or the blue or the green or the tawny, rough oak beneath his feet, because all of that is real. And this isn’t real. 

Ranboo is in front of him. He’s taller. Tubbo can’t see the sun anymore. A shame. It was nice and bright. 

Ranboo is real, too. Black and white like a panda or a cookie or something. Red and green, black and white, rumpled suit and prickly ears. Tubbo giggles. Maybe Ranboo isn’t real; his whole face is speckles with black, swimming and swirling. That doesn’t usually happen. 

“Tubbo, are you okay? Tubbo, why are you laughing?” Ranboo’s brows are all drawn and furrowed. He looks so worried. But that’s okay. That’s okay. 

“Ranboo, you silly… silly man…” Tubbo reaches up, lets his hands find his husband’s, his friend’s, ears, feels the weird fuzzy spots at their bases. 

Ranboo flinches back, grabbing Tubbo’s wrists and pushing them down. “No—Tubbo, why—” He makes a weird hissy sound. Silly funny enderman. “Do you need to sit down?”

“No, it’s fine! I’m alright, big man.” He rubs his hands down his face, pulling at the scar tissue across his nose and jaw. He remembers when he got those scars. Tommy was there. He sat in Tubbo’s room in Pogtopia every night after for weeks. He always woke Tubbo up whenever Tubbo started screaming. That was a permanent death, the festival was. Tubbo is one slip away from dying. So is Tommy. But they’ll be okay, because Dream is in prison. It’s all okay now. Tubbo’s palms are sweaty and sticky, so he takes them off his face. 

“What the hell happened?” Ranboo mutters, fiddling with his communicator. Tubbo isn’t sure he’s ever heard Ranboo say “hell” before. That’s kind of funny. They’ve pretty much spent the entirety of the past few weeks together. Ranboo doesn’t seem to swear much. Tubbo hasn’t done anything but hang out with Ranboo since Tommy finished his hotel. They’ve barely left each other’s sides. Ranboo and Tubbo, Tubbo and Ranboo. 

“Tubbo. Hey, Tubbo.” Ranboo’s hands are on his shoulders again. “Tubbo, where are we?” 

Tubbo hums under his breath. “We are on the Prime Path, big man.” Outside the Bee and Boo. It’s very bright today. Everything looks a little blurry, though. 

“Sam says he’s at the prison,” Ranboo says. “Do you want to go talk to Sam?” 

“Sounds good.” Tubbo looks over at the prison. It’s just past Skeppy’s mansion. The prison, where Dream is. Something… something is wrong. He thinks. 

As he follows Ranboo down the path, he frowns, trying to remember what it is. Something… wrong. At the prison. 

“Wait, but Sam hasn’t died,” he says. “Sam is still there. Dream is still in Pandora’s Vault.” As long as Dream is in prison, they are all safe. Everything is fine. Everything is perfect. They won. They have the discs. It is okay now. 

“Yes,” Ranboo says. 

The approach is long, with the path he walks stretching into infinity. It seems forever that they spend walking towards the prison’s hulking shape. Sam is waiting for them when they get there. 

“I made a mistake,” he says in a shaking voice. “I’m so sorry. Tommy is… Tommy’s dead.” 

And Tubbo is seventeen years old. He is standing in the world he calls home near the path his best friend built out of oak, standing next to his friend-husband-business partner, and he is not crying, because Tommy cannot be dead. Because Tommy does not die. Because Tommy survives. It is what he does. 

And Tubbo did not spend the last week his friend spent in prison falling in platonic love, building a hotel, playing chess, singing and cracking jokes and making pancakes and playing his ukulele. Because Tommy is not in prison, because there is no reason for him to be, and if he is, there’s nothing Tubbo can do anyway, is there? What is there, really, for Tubbo to do, aside from forget what has him curled up in his bed some nights, hugging himself as tight as he can so his stomach will stop eating itself out of helpless guilt? And now everything is fine, because the time is up, and Tommy is fine, because Tommy is always fine, even when there’s lava and holes and fireworks and Dream. 

Tubbo is not crying. That is not a lie, but maybe it is wrong nonetheless. 

xxx

To Tubbo, Dream has not taken all of Tommy’s lives until Tommy is standing outside the hotel the next morning. 

He does not remember falling asleep, but it must have happened somehow, because he has just woken up. He has a splitting headache and an aching heart and dry, blurry eyes, and he thinks he’s seeing things at first. 

Tommy is staring up at his own hotel, but he turns around when Tubbo opens the door, grinning when he sees him. 

“Big man!” he shouts. “You seen this thing yet? Pretty proud of it, I am.” Tommy’s grin is glinting white, his face greyish, his hair silvery pale. He is soft and fuzzy and not-all-there. Tubbo blinks once. Twice. And then he is crying. 

Sitting on the path, crying. His face is in his hands and Tommy’s touch on his back is cold and staticky. Tubbo remembers when Tommy’s touch was warm, like fire, glowy and bright and wonderful for a cold winter’s night.

“Tubbo? What’s wrong? Are you okay?” 

Tubbo gasps in a breath, chest spasming for air. His face is drenched and raw. There is a gaping hole in his chest, his ribs shattered into jagged knives. It is Technoblade with withers and fireworks and TNT laying waste to his heart. Tubbo does not move when someone cold and full and real picks him up, cradles him in too-long arms, and lays him on a bed. Tubbo does not move. Tommy is not fine.

xxx

“I didn’t come,” Tubbo forces out one day when everything is numb again. He’s sitting in the Big Innit Hotel’s lobby, slumped in a chair beside the front desk. He’s still wearing his Snowchester jacket, fiddling with the strings of one of the buttons. He’s vaguely aware of red concrete stone bricks and Tommy’s faint form somewhere in his periphery, but it’s mostly just the button and the string. “I’m sorry. 

“What do you mean?” Tommy asks. He’s sitting behind the desk, ready for customers. He’s usually ready for customers these days, when he isn’t committing arson or wandering up and down the Prime Path or sitting on a bench on a hill, hands fidgety and unsure, like he’s missing something. That is, if he’s to believe Ranboo: Tubbo hasn’t left the Bee and Boo much. Ranboo says that’s what Tommy’s been doing, though. 

A few people have even stayed in the hotel. People will stop by to visit, to see if it’s true, to say hi to Tommy or to talk to Tubbo or just to gawk, even, and usually end up staying in a room at Tommy’s insistence. 

Tommy always acts like he’s going to charge them for it, but he never actually does. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t need money. Maybe he just forgets. He forgets a lot of things. 

“In prison,” Tubbo mutters. “Sam might’ve let me in. I didn’t even try.” There are tears at the corners of his eyes, suddenly, but he rubs them away. He’s sick and tired of having a wet face. It’s sticky and awful and he always ends up with a headache and a stuffy nose. 

“...What are you on about?” Tubbo glances up. Tommy is giving him an odd look. “Prison? Dream is the only one in prison. We put him in there, remember? I kicked his ass with the—with—” He frowns, making a swinging motion with his hands. “With—with that axe. You know?” 

Tubbo sighs. “Yeah, I know.” He goes back to his button. 

xxx

Ranboo comes for him later that evening, when the sunset has just begun to filter through the windows. Tubbo hasn’t moved from his chair, even though Tommy went somewhere below the desk a while earlier. 

The vest’s button came off. It’s still on the floor where it fell, and Tubbo’s started on a new one. 

“Tubbo,” he says when he walks through the double doors. Tubbo glances up at him. “Tubbo, can we go home now? You’ve been here all day.”

Tubbo doesn’t say anything. Maybe he doesn’t have to. Maybe they can just leave. 

Ranboo walks over. Sinks down in front of Tubbo. He looks away.

“Tubbo.” He takes Tubbo’s hands in his own. “Hey, Tubbo. Can you look at me?” 

Tubbo does not look at Ranboo. Tubbo squints his eyes shut and ignores the prickly wetness. It is not there. It has already been there too many times in the past however-long-it’s-been.

Ranboo sighs. “Tubbo, you can’t do this forever.” He squeezes his hands. A tear trickles down Tubbo’s face. “I know it hurts. I know it hurts. It’s going to hurt. It always will. But you’re not alone, I promise. He might not be here anymore, but you’re not alone.” 

Tubbo breaks the breath he’s been holding to gasp in a new one. It shudders against his lungs, painful and loud.

“Can you talk to me?” Ranboo asks. “Please, Tubbo. It’s been weeks. Please.”

And that’s where he breaks, where all the air comes out in a fragmented sob, where the tears are back again, and he throws himself at Ranboo, collapsing into his chest and tucking his face into Ranboo’s shoulder. He must be startled, Tubbo notes absently, because his hands take a moment to find Tubbo’s back.

“I’m sorry.” Tubbo gasps. “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry? It’s okay to be sad.” Ranboo is rubbing circles. It’s an awkward, stilted motion, but there’s heart.

“I can’t—” He blinks hard, swallowing a knotted lump. “I can’t. I can’t. He wasn’t supposed to leave me. He wasn’t supposed to be the one who left.” 

Tommy was the queen, and Tubbo the pawn. This directionless pain that festers at his core isn’t supposed to be here. Maybe if Dream had just killed him none of this would have happened. Tubbo would be dead and Dream would be free and Tommy would be in prison but he’d be alive, and maybe Tubbo could visit him as a ghost and keep him company. And neither of them would be this confused because Tommy always knew what to do. He’d get out of the Vault and he’d tell Tubbo what they needed to do next to take down Dream, and it’d be them against the world, the two of them, together always, Tubbo and Tommy, Tommy and Tubbo. 

Ranboo has always ran a little cold, which Tubbo found unnerving at first, but right now, his cool skin is soothing and better than anything else could have been against Tubbo’s face. His head is aching and it feels like it’s burning from the inside. 

“It’s okay,” he’s murmuring. “I’m here. I’m here.”

What am I without you? Tommy asked one day, in a vault swamped in glimmering darkness. And Tubbo said, yourself. It’s an easy solution to the question that leaves Tubbo paralyzed now, but one that hurts and aches and doesn’t help at all. 

He’s been here before, back when he was still president. Back when there was still a nation to be president of. Back when nothing was okay and Tubbo was a monster, the next Schlatt, a tyrant who had only doomed a nation that was doomed from the start. Back then, nothing was okay. 

Everything was supposed to be fine now. And it isn’t. So Tubbo cries.

xxx

A few days later, Tubbo goes out. 

Ranboo is with him, at his side, holding his hand. Tubbo is wearing a green button-down shirt that’s only a little bit green at this point, holey and worn. Tubbo is hazy-headed with tears. Nothing is okay. But today, he has decided to try. 

The sight of the prison made him break down once before, a week or so ago, so when they walk out of the hotel, he fixes his gaze firmly to the right. Stares at the planks of the Prime Path, puts one foot in front of the other. They’ll maybe go to the Community House. Stop by Captain Puffy’s place, or visit Eret, or something. Both of them have a sort of calming presence Tubbo can’t deny wanting to feel again, and Ranboo mentioned something about Puffy wanting to talk to him. He isn’t really sure. For now, it’s easiest just to walk. 

Step by step by step. Tubbo watches the edges of all the builds on the path scroll by. A pattern of blood vines webs its way across the grass. He’s glad there’s none on the path; he’d probably trip. 

The Targay is somewhere on the edge of his vision when he hears it. Plattering, bouncy notes, dancing through the air. He hasn’t heard this song in a while. He isn’t even sure he’s hearing it now. But each step up the staircase has weight, suddenly, as he makes his way towards the embassy. 

He sees it when he crests the hill, of course; it’s hard to miss. Someone cut down the trees that used to stand in the way a while ago, and now it’s just grass and flowers and the bench. That and Tommy, sitting there, staring out at the view, with one arm over the back of his seat just like always. Cat is in the jukebox, spinning just the same as it always has. Tommy must hear him or something, because he turns around, face lighting up when he sees Tubbo.

“Tubbo!” he cries. “Ranboo! You’re here! Come sit with me!” 

Tommy. On the bench. Waiting for him.

Breath caught somewhere in his head, Tubbo stumbles over, feet only kind of there. The grass is soft and the sun is bright and the view is beautiful and he sits down and Tommy is there and there’s music and oh, he thinks he might be crying again. Ranboo sits in the grass to their right. 

Tommy slings an arm around Tubbo’s neck.

“Hey Big T,” he says. “It’s good to see you again.” It’s almost easy to pretend like everything is the same. “You doing okay?” 

Tubbo looks over at him, blinking hard and mustering a smile. “I’m fine,” he says. “How have you been?”

“Good, good!” Tommy says, flashing a grin. “It kinda sucks being dead, though.”

“Oh, yeah?” Tubbo swallows. “Why’s that?”

“You never hang out with me anymore!” Tommy complains, kicking his shin. “And when you do, you’re always so mopey. I know you didn’t want me to die, but like… you could at least spend time with me, eh? There’s no point in just forgetting.” 

Tubbo remembers a muttered rant a few months back, something about Jack Manifold and a trident accident and a joke that turned real (count from ten backwards, don’t let this ruin your life), and he exhales. Leaning into Tommy’s touch, he tries again at a smile. “You’ve gotten a lot wiser, haven’t you?” 

“Nah, I’m just dead,” he says. “Seriously, though, Tubbo. It sucks, really, it does. But you can do this. I believe in you. You are—quite possibly—the coolest person I know. And you will be okay.”

Tubbo can’t see past his tears. “I—I just—” He stops. Takes a deep breath. “I feel so lost without you. It was always for you, all of it, I don’t—”

“No, no, Tubbo—” Tommy catches his hands where they’ve flown up to rub away the tears— “Thank you. Please. Thank you. For everything. I would have never made it half as far without you. So please. Keep going for me.”

Cat ends, the final note ringing out into the midmorning air. Tommy stands, grabbing the disk from the jukebox and giving it a spin on his finger. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, alright, Tubbo?” he says. “I’m gonna go put this away. And then I’ve got to go make sure I haven’t missed any cli-enteys.”

“Okay,” Tubbo whispers. “Okay, Tommy.” 

Tommy starts off down the Prime Path, whistling a senseless tune to himself. Ranboo wraps his hand in his cool grip. Tubbo takes a deep breath.

“And Tommy?” he calls.

Tommy looks over his shoulder. “Huh?”

“I love you.”

“Ew.” Tommy squints at him, but he’s grinning. “That’s gross. You’re gross. You’re really—you disgust me sometimes, Tubbo, you know that?” 

Tubbo laughs, then, for real, for the first time in weeks. And he thinks, then, that maybe, maybe, it’s going to be okay. 

[applsauss]

Nar Shaddaa

Description: Eager to leave this moment behind, for Rex’s sake, you knock your fist against his pauldron, then make your way out of the alley before he might start to think he owes you any explanation.

Fandom: Star Wars


Pairing: CT-7567 (Rex)/Reader

Word Count: 4.3k+

Warning(s): Violence.

      Worlds like Nar Shaddaa are hollowed out husks of planets, built of nothing but levels upon levels of durasteel and deprivation. Each floor is more crowded than the last and--the neon, the stench, the never-ending noise of civilization--it all presses against your temples to the point of a steady, blurry ache. What’s worse, however, is the uncomfortable emptiness that festers in the air, collects in the deadened streets, like Nar Shadda’s dead core hallows the miles of empty space beneath the maze of scaffolding and walkways. 

The quarry ahead of you splashes through a deep puddle, the water violently disturbed by the chase, and you’re eager to follow her through the filth. The Corellian Sector, a den of criminal activity and a smuggler’s haven, blurs into nothing as you train your eyes on your quarry’s back, your thoughts overwhelmed with the need to sink your teeth into prey.

You grimace as the water splashes up your greaves--distantly you loathe the time you know it will take to clean Nar Shaddaa off your beskar once you’re back aboard the Beholder--but you keep pushing yourself full tilt, boots hitting the ferrocrete hard, Rex on your heels, his breath down your neck. 

You round another sharp bend, your boots skidding out and your knuckles brushing against the ground as you catch your weight. The skies open up, fat droplets of rainwater begin hitting the ground by your feet, and the heavy sound barely registers over your ragged breath inside your helmet. 

The skyscrapers rise up around you, Nar Shaddaa is a veritable concrete jungle you observe only through your peripherals, and it rains and rains and rains something awful--something greasy. The rainwater slicks the walkways and pours down your helmet like a brothy soup. 

It is twilight, and yet the planet of Nal Hutta still glows a pale yellow-green above your head, claiming half the sky for its own. You catch sight of it in the black puddles at your feet until the chase leads you through them, and then the planet disappears in a series of violent ripples. 

Ahead of you, a crowd gathered at the entrance of a nightclub begins to shove each other forward under the awning to get away from the rain. The quarry takes advantage of that confusion by pushing right through to the middle until your visor’s digital interface loses track of her.

You huff, then sprint into the crowd without pause, slaloming your way through the gaps between the patrons while Rex barrels through them behind you, shoving people aside by their shoulders. “I lost her!” you tell Rex, voice clipped when an elbow jams under your chestplate and into your exposed ribs. 

The quarry probably changed shape again. You bite back the distaste, bitter in your mouth, as you reflect on how you loathe hunting clawdites in moments like these--their shape-shifting abilities coming around to bite you in the ass at the least opportune moments. 

You keep on forward, placing blind trust on the tracking fob as your visor’s digital interface continues to unsuccessfully scan the crowded street for the quarry’s unique chain code. 

“With the red hat--” Rex grunts as he bursts clear from the crowd, and suddenly his arm is in your field of vision as he points towards a humanoid. The figure turns and sprints down the nearest alley, in the direction of the skyslums. Your eyes meet hers briefly, and you recognise the fearful look of a cornered animal when you see one.

You take off after the red hat as it disappears into the darkness, your heart pounding in your ears and beskar on your tongue. The exertion touches on something you do not feel except for in the heat of battle. There is a certain amount of enjoyment you find in struggle, in that reminder that you are alive, because to fight is to be alive.

You pass by a vent and it stinks of Nar Shadda’s dead core. The smell fills your helmet and your curse yourself for ever coming back to this place despite your vow to never take another job here again. Rex had even agreed at the time, groused about the sludge on his boots and told you he’d rather be marooned on Jakku without water than have to clean the greasy rain off anything for a fourth time. 

And yet here the two of you are, poking around Nar Shaddaa’s filth once more--after a clawdite, no less. Why Rex would ever accept this bounty puck is beyond you. You make a mental note to give him shit for it when you get the chance. 

The chase leads you deeper into the Corellian Sector. You follow the trail of the clawdite’s cloak for two more alleys, and after clipping the corner of a dumpster with your tasset, Rex overtakes you. The puddles are deeper in the alleys, where the rainwater pools on the uneven ferrocrete, and are non-existent where the solid ground below you disappears until you’re left running across slick, rackety grates spanning massive pits. 

Your lungs burn with your ragged breaths, and Rex seems to be reaching the limit of his tolerance. He unclasps one of his blasters from where it was secured at his thigh, and you follow suit, pulling out your disruptor pistol and gripping it tight.

“You’re faster than me. Flank and I’ll chase her ‘round towards you,” Rex suggests. He points towards an alley off to your right, and without responding, you slide to a stop on the wet ground, boots slipping across the gritty ferrocrete, then take off down the alley Rex had gestured to, his judgement unquestioned. 

Unable to help yourself, you throw one last, careless, look over your shoulder toward your partner and watch as he sprints past without pause, breath steaming from out the sides of his respirator, the glow of the neon from an errant street sign silhouetting his tall frame. 

It is…something else. You blink and that vision is gone, replaced by the dark alley in front of you as you leap over the legs of something dead and kick a spice container so it skids across the ground and collides with the wall. 

You can taste your heart in your mouth, your lungs are cranking air in and out like a machine, and your muscles are screaming with savage energy. You feel the power of your body all bunched up as you single-mindedly pursue your quarry-and it is only the only thought in your mind except for those of Rex. 

You shake your head to rid yourself of that nagging notion when your comlink pips, the light flashing in your peripherals. Rex’s gravelly voice pours through. “Quarry’s headed your way, towards Hutta Town.”

“Roger, roger,” you whisper under your breath, a dog grin working its way onto your lips, carried away once more by the thrill of the hunt. There is something in your head that craves this, the only crop sowed, watered, and growed by Mandalorians. 

You glance down at the map projected from your vambrace, then turn on your heel so you’re headed towards Hutta Town. The sudden change of direction has you slipping across the oil-slick ground and slamming into the wall of a building, your disruptor pistol clicking and scraping across the rough material. You push yourself off, then take off down the intersection, racing the quarry to Hutta Town and trusting that she and Rex are somewhere behind you, out of sight, unknowing. 

When you see the beginnings of Hutta Town proper, you duck down behind the nearest dumpster, your disruptor pistol clutched to your chest, the muzzle reaching just past the edges of your visor. You ping Rex with your location.

Your helmet is illuminated with technicolor neon and the pale glow of Nal Hutta from above, the planet like the sickly yellow disk of a searchlight fixed above your head. 

You can hear the comings and goings of Hutta Town from where you wait inside the alley, that den of criminal activity bustling with life at all times of the day and night and those stolen moments in between. 

When you are hidden in the shadows, in that safe in between, there is almost something peaceful about it--but then you remember the Hutts and that peace falls through your fingers like the roving sands of Tatooine. 

The Hutts won’t take kindly to a disturbance from an outsider, let alone someone covered head to toe in precious beskar. No...best to finish this job now. Quickly. Quietly. Without struggle or drawing attention to yourselves. 

The rain continues to hit your helmet and pauldrons, that slick, sickening sludge beginning to seep through the thick material of your flightsuit. Your breath is loud in the cage of your helmet, barely fogging the bottom of your T-visor thanks to its careful anti-fog treatment, and Nar Shaddaa’s rotten-egg stench begins to work its way through your air filters. 

Regardless of the discomfort, you stay crouched, ready to leap from cover, disruptor pistol in tow, to catch the quarry in your deadly sights. You don’t need a scope to be accurate, even at a distance--though it doesn’t matter much because most quarries freeze at the sight of your pistol--the threat of disintegration worse than any jail-time they might face otherwise. There is a reason the Empire banned the weapon, and there is a reason Mandalorians are known to carry them. 

You feel yourself begin to relax in the lull of the wait, and so you train your breathing to be fast and shallow, forcing yourself to remain alert. The rain blurs your vision through your visor, and you reach up to drag the fabric of your tunic over the transparisteel, but it only blurs your vision farther, the greasy rain sticking and streaking across your beskar. After what feels like a lifetime, you hear distant shouting. 

“It’s useless to run!” Rex’s voice bounces down the alley, rising over the quiet hum of activity in this section of Nar Shadda. He is panting heavily. “We’ve got your tracking fob. You have nowhere...to go where we...won’t find you!”

You feel adrenaline surge through you once again, your heart racing, your ears straining for any sign your helmet’s audio filters might pick up, for the right moment to leap from your hiding spot. Time slows, you swear you can see the rain falling pause midair--and then you hear uneven, panicked footsteps slapping on oil-slick ferrocrete just behind you. 

Without restraint or hesitation, you leap up and spin around, disruptor pistol loaded and held out in front of you as the target continues to barrel forward without thought, gaze thrown back over her shoulder, terrified of Rex. 

When the quarry finally sees you, she tries to stop herself but ends up skidding across a puddle and landing hard on her back. “Oh, kriff!” The clawdite cries out as her feet kick uselessly across the slick ground. Her disguise falls away to her original form, almost reptilian in nature, and the glow of her yellow eyes is pitiful as she opens and closes her mouth, unable to react to your sudden appearance. 

You stalk forward, pistol trained on the quarry. She raises her hands up, submissive, eyes glazed over in fear. Her forked tongue peaks out to wet her lips before she seals her mouth shut and gulps. 

You watch her from behind your disruptor pistol, the charged, yellow glow of the bolt in the chamber making the rain reflect the light around you. The neon from Hutta Town is at your back, casting your dark shadow over the clawdite. 

“P-p-please!” she begs, and you wonder if she’s crying. You can’t tell because of the dark and the rain. Her hair is plastered to her forehead and her clothes hang off her bones, heavy and slick. Her kind was never meant for this climate.

You clench your teeth and rock back onto your heels, the comedown from an adrenaline high always difficult. Your breathing deepens as you focus on calming yourself. She’s not much of a threat anymore, cornered and caught...pathetic, even, though you suspect it’s an act. You don’t have much sympathy for a bail-jumper wanted on multiple charges of extortion, armed robbery and first-degree murder. 

You hear Rex rapidly approaching, and so does the quarry, who grows more twitchy and bothered as she can’t seem to decide who she’s more terrified of, Rex’s intimidating size, or the silhouette of armor that could only belong to a Mandalorian. Her eyes dart frantically from the disruptor pistol, to your beskar face, to her peripherals as she desperately searches for an opening that does not exist. 

With Rex now close enough to grab her if she decides to bolt, you reach behind your back for your magnacuffs, and the clawdite reels back at the movement, her eyes drawing to the size of dinner plates. 

“I-I swear! I swear I don’t know anything about the Vigilance!” she squeaks, blinking up at you through the now-torrential downpour. The wet seeps through your flightsuit and drips down your back, tacky and cold. “I didn’t even--I sold the data and I never even looked at it!”

You pause, tilting your head to the side, and lower your disruptor pistol a millimeter to get an unimpeded look at her face. “What Vigilance?”

In your peripherals, the movement of Rex’s feet shuffling back catches your attention, and something heavy settles in your gut when you glance up only to find him staring at the clawdite as if she’s just stuck a vibroblade between his ribs. Above the edge of his respirator, his eyes are wide, the whites shining in the light with something like muddied fear. 

His expression makes your stomach twist. It doesn’t look right on his face. A fierce protectiveness balls in your chest, and with it you narrow your eyes and raise your disruptor pistol again, glaring down the barrel at the quarry. 

“What do you know about the Vigilance?” you demand, despite having no clue what she’s talking about. 

“Nothing!”

“No,” you spit out harshly, taking a step toward the clawdite. You discreetly peek up at Rex to gage his expression, then continue when you find it chilled and unchanged. Your voice drips with a dark threat. “You’re lying.”

The clawdite looks as if she’s going to remain silent, so you raise your hackles and square your shoulders to appear bigger, your shadow falling farther across her, engulfing her. She balls her knees up and panics. “It’s a--a Venator-class Star Destroyer! A Jedi Cruiser!”

You remind her of your disruptor pistol by waving it in her face. “And?”

“I-It’s in the Taris system! That’s all I know! It crashed on one of the moons, there’s a mass grave outside it and it had a jedi on it--that’s why the Empire wants to know where it’s at so bad!”

Your act drops at the mention of the Empire, gone and replaced with true malice. “Why would the Empire be after a downed Destroyer--”

“A jedi?” Rex chokes out. 

His sudden interjection has you jerking your chin up to check his expression, worry flooding your thoughts at the sound of his broken voice--smaller than you’ve ever heard it before. The distraction proves to be a mistake, however. 

There is the sound of something scraping across the ferrocrete, and you look back down just as the quarry throws her leg up to kick your disruptor pistol away. You instinctively squeeze the trigger, your reaction time faster than your thoughts, but it’s too late. The yellow disruptor bolt fizzles on the wall of the building two stories above your head, and you only have half a second to thank the Maker it didn’t hit Rex. 

The clawdite seizes forward, the dull hum of a vibroblade registering in your ears, and then it’s over. The quarry gasps, then crumples onto the floor at your feet, revealing Rex standing behind her, the barrel of his blaster still smoking. 

With the danger past, you click your tongue and kick the vibroblade away as Rex slips his blaster back into its holster and kneels over the quarry, who is clutching at the singed edges of the hole in her side. He injects the sleep agent into the clawdite’s neck, then begins searching her pockets. 

The rain continues to fall. It covers everything in a filth unlike any other, creating deposits where the gutters spill over, greasy stalagmites growing on the ferrocrete. You squint at the street at the end of the alley, but the rain blurs the lights, making them fuzzy apparitions that flicker when people pass in front. 

Your thoughts turn to Rex, as they tend to do the closer and longer you work with him. You know he is a man haunted by something. It is in the way he carries himself, a man hollowed out, unsure of how he’s supposed to put one foot in front of the other. He has the same caution a womp rat does after getting kicked in the face one too many times. 

But you’ve never pressed him on his past and you’re not going to start now. He doesn’t question your silence, your creed, and he’s never once given you reason to doubt him. You’ve even...for the time you’ve known him, you’ve grown to consider him a friend. 

You crane your neck up to try and find the scuff mark your disruptor bolt might have made on the building, but catch a glimpse of Nall Hutta instead. You bite back your dislike for the planet, and turn back to Rex as he appears at your side, the quarry slung over his shoulder. 

He holds out a stack of credit chips for you to take, probably previously belonging to the quarry, and you pocket them, then ask pointlessly, “Is she alive?”

Rex catches your eyes with his for a moment, then glances away, something like guilt swimming in his expression. “Yeah.”

Eager to leave this moment behind, for Rex’s sake, you knock your fist against his pauldron, then make your way out of the alley before he might start to think he owes you any explanation. 

***

You’re both sitting on stools under an awning at some hole-in-the-wall cantina as it continues to pour on Nar Shaddaa. Your quarry is slumped at your feet in the sludge, unconscious, with her hands cuffed behind her back. Her weight against your leg is reassurance of the payment you’ll receive once you turn her over to the guild. 

Someone trudging past in a poncho lifts his head, eyes squinted as he glares at Rex, but you pull out your disruptor pistol and slap it on the tabletop before he can say anything. At the threat, the togruta dips his head down and continues past without comment. 

You don’t know why some people so vehemently hate Rex, and you’ve never asked him about it except for in passing, more in an attempt to lighten the mood than anything else. At the time, he’d only shrugged, but after you suggested he wear a helmet or a mask if it becomes an issue for him, he went out and bought a respirator at the next port you docked in. 

His respirator is now hanging around his neck, however, and he’s nursing some type of steaming drink. You didn’t pay much attention as he ordered it from the rusty droid tending the bar, instead watching the holonews playing on one of the viewscreens inside the cantina. 

There was another terrorist attack in the outer rim--but not in Mandalorian space, so it doesn’t interest you much. Terrorists, separatists, rebels--they are all one in the same, and you care little about what causes they fight for. 

The Republic was the Republic, the Empire is the Empire, and what comes next will be what comes next. It makes no difference what name an inefficient government uses because it will only ever be that. 

No one has ever fought for Mandalore except for Mandalorians, and so you have little qualms abandoning the galaxy that first abandoned you. 

The lamp above your head is out, and so light pours out of the cantina and over your table, technicolor and without order. You blink down at the transparisteel of the table, then look away, the colors sticking to the backs of your eyelids. 

Rex is sitting in the shadow of all that light, his bleached hair shimmering like starlight, the same as the whites of his eyes. It is a struggle not to look at him, and so you give into that desire, your helmet tilted toward the street as you observe him from the corner of your eye.

Your heart is alive with worry for him, the same as your thoughts. You try to think of all the possible lives he could have led to bring him to this moment, but your mind draws a blank. You’ve only ever known him now. 

The quarry’s words ring in your ears, but you quash whatever questions you might have before you can think them. You draw a greasy finger across the transparisteel tabletop, then look back across the street. 

It is filthy, with trash piling up along the walls and near flooded with rainwater. The alleys are thrust into the harsh shadows of the night, and only a sliver of Nal Hutta’s yellow disk is still visible in the sky. 

The downpour is still heavy, trapping you and Rex under the small awning until the deluge is finished with. And so you wait on this miserable trash heap of a moon, the wet stench of decay filling your helmet, the air filters beyond useless after so many hours. 

It is miserable and cold and Rex looks particularly unapproachable now that he is six feet of sopping wet, sleep-deprived bounty hunter. The shadows on his face make him look dangerous, though you know enough to understand that that’s not all he is. 

Another passerby eyes your bounty, Rex, or they’re wondering how much of a hassle it would be to try and peel your beskar off you. Rex shifts on his stool, however, and that movement has them skittering along the street without so much as a second glance. 

Rex is a good deterrent. Usually, the T-shaped visor and concave cheeks of your helmet is enough to dissuade anyone from approaching you, but Rex is an added lethality that lifts the weight that rests over your shoulders just a bit. 

The hyper-focused fog of paranoia clears just enough for you to let your eyes close, and you can pretend you’re somewhere else--maybe back on Concordia, with the smell of metal in the air and the rustling of the sparse foliage--Mandalore, a chalk-white disc in the sky, a reminder of the lengths to which war can drag a planet, a reminder of what you fight for. 

Concordia is very much the Nar Shaddaa to Mandalore’s Nal Hutta, a lawless and wild moon--though there is something beautiful in Concordia, in its torn landscape, in the grass taking root anew, and in the trees, young and sickly, growing back after so many generations of ruin. It is wild because nature is savage, something to be revered and feared and revelled in. 

Nar Shaddaa is lawless because it lacks morality. Truth, honor, and vision. 

The rain slows to a stop, a couple fat droplets falling on the flooded street, and Rex tips back the last of his drink. People begin to poke their heads out of windows and doorways, cautiously making their way back out into the uncomfortably silent night as the rain dissipates, and a cold fog rolls across the ground, licking up at your knees. 

Eyes watch you from the alleys, blinking owlishly in the darkness, and both you and Rex stand at once. 

He secures his respirator, then hefts the quarry over his shoulder, and you follow just a step behind him, your disruptor pistol held at your side, a casual threat you won’t hesitate to make good on. 

As you begin to make your way back to the Beholder, you feel that emptiness reverberate in the ferrocrete beneath your boots. It nags you once more, warns you of some perceived danger, and you balance on the edge of alertness, just above the raging sea of paranoia below. 

Nar Shaddaa is hollow and empty of everything worthwhile, the meeting point of all types of depravity. Coruscant is the same. You won’t be able to relax until you’re safe in the cradle of hyperspace, headed away from this place for what you truly hope will be the last time. 

Rex’s figure cuts through the fog in front of you, and your boots sink into the filth as you follow close behind, your kama trailing behind you. That smell again--the dead core of this shell of a moon, floods your mouth, and this time it tastes like the metal of your own blood. 

Dread floods your body, this feeling unmatched by anything else--the emptiness of this world and all worlds like it sending you reeling, and the only thing that keeps you together is the beskar you’ve wrapped yourself in. 

Your eyes refocus on the profile of Rex’s face as he checks on you over his shoulder. His eyes meet yours through your visor--they seem to find yours more easily the longer he sticks around--and you release the shuddering breath that’d built up in your throat. 

You tilt your helmet away, but let your eyes linger on the sharp angles of his face until he turns back to the path ahead of him. 

Something tugs you toward him by the heart. You grip your chestplate, fingers slipping across that Beskar Heart emblem embedded in its center, then you pull your slimy gloves away and bury the feeling, resolving to think harder on it once you’re no longer being followed by two trandoshans who think they’ll be lucky enough to steal your bounty from you.

Masterlist | Posting Schedule

[walker-journal]

The Versipellis of the 7/11 (Adam + Kaden)

Characters: Kaden Langley (Hunter-Liz), Adam Walker (Hunter-Tapir)

Summary: Kaden and Adam go to a canabalistic crime scene and find themselves tracking down a familiar foe.

Content Warnings: Gun Use, Head Trauma 

Lycanthropy and all its permutations wasn’t Adam Walker’s specialty. However Versipellis curse was something he had personal experience with. Adam had to force those memories down as he examined the cashier’s body, the man unrecognizable after being mostly cannibalized. The bite marks on his body resembled those of a human mouth in some places, but the size and jaw structure distended as the curse had taken hold of the perpetrator, twisting them into something that’d eventually chomped this guy’s head in half like a pumpkin gourd.

Adam began the morbid task of rifling through the victim’s possessions, constructing guesses from clues and what he already knew. The Hunter’s gloved fingers flipped through bloodstained debit cards and receipts in what was left of the guy’s wallet. Crisp electronic clicks began as Adam rubbed enough dark gore off a smartphone to sift through photos of family and the most recent texts.

It seemed like a form of desecration to so casually paw through a person’s life before their corpse had even cooled. Adam wasn’t a naturally nosy dude and felt only a cold pit in his stomach as he scrutinized this window into the everyday complexity of someone else’s personhood. But they didn’t have time to spare, and Adam had been conditioned to suppress any squicky sentimentality that might interfere with the mission.

“Our victim is Michael P. Brewer, thirty six year old man, five feet and nine inches, one hundred and forty three pounds,” Adam rattled off with militaristic dispassion as he knelt over what was left of the body. “He was about to get off shift, but his replacement attacked while he was busy with the punch card. The bites began at the neck until the perpetrator’s increasing bulk forced Michael to the floor, where he was eaten alive. He is survived by his wife: Crow Brewer,” he finished.

“The likely perp is Tammy L. Killian, twenty nine year old woman, black hair, about five-six from this photo,” Adam held up a screenshot from Michael’s phone where the now intact man stood smiling next to his coworker at a union meeting. “She was texting Michael about wanting to come in for her shift despite suffering a bite from a wild animal that ate her dog last night.”

Adam looked up at the more experienced Hunter. “What’s the call Langley?”

When Kaden got the call from Walker about a body in the convenience store, he didn’t hesitate.  As much as hunting gave him pause recently, he wouldn’t leave the kid hanging. Even if he had to squash the voice in the back of his head telling him to call it in to the authorities. Didn’t last long. Not when he heard the basics of the situation. This was stained with supernatural shit, no doubt.

The first thing he did when they walked in, after placing the police tape to keep out any one else who might wander by, was head straight for the security cameras. Technology was far from his strong suit, but years of keeping the supernatural secret (and keeping himself out of prison) was enough for him to learn a few tricks here and there how to destroy evidence. Lucky for them, the whole setup was far from complicated. Kaden ripped the cameras out of the corners of the place and slammed them to the ground before giving them a good stomp with his boot for good measure. He reached behind the counter and gave the CCTV screen there and the box attached to it the same treatment.

By the time he was done, Walker was already halfway through rifling the victim's belongings. There were times Kaden regretted getting involved with law enforcement. Times like now, when he had that nagging feeling that he was going against his duty as WCPD. Examining the body before even considering reporting it. Still, his duty to the hunter’s codes went back far longer than any job and would endure long past that. Of course. Well, unless he-- That didn’t matter. The point was he was a hunter first. It was in his blood, he couldn’t walk away from his genetics even if he wanted to. He didn’t have to ask for details, Walker was good at delving them out as he went.

“Bite from a wild animal, huh?”  Kaden huffed out a laugh. They both knew damn well what that meant. “You said you thought this was a versipellis case,” he stated, leaning down to get a better look at the body. He’d seen injuries like this before. Unfortunately. “Gotta agree.”

He stood up, cracked his knuckles and glanced back over his shoulder. No sign of anyone approaching. Good. Kaden turned back and gave Walker his answer. “We find the monster. We kill the monster.” There was no gesture or further explanation. Kaden started walking, following the trail of destruction. “Looks like it burst out the back,” he added, heading through what was left of the back door. Maybe they had a shot of catching up with the beast before it found another victim. He didn’t want to call Michael P. Brewer lucky but death was preferable to being turned by a versipellis of all things.

“There was a Verispellis case earlier that turned a selkie feral,” supplied Adam as he followed Kaden out the back door. That was the danger of the Turnskin. A single bite could lead to a domino effect of secondary infections and people devoured alive. Kinna like a zombie but with some giant doggo skinbursting as a treat.

“However the infection ran its course in that selkie without the transformation taking hold and he’s been stable since,” continued Adam, making an effort to keep his voice professionally neutral, as if David Herring were simply just a witness to a case. The rational part of Adam knew that Kaden probably wouldn’t have a problem with his noodling partner, considering who Regan was. However, the reflex towards covering his ass so was automatic that Adam didn’t even realize how he was speaking until the words were out of his mouth.

Adam looked around the alley culdesac they’d walked into, Brick walls surrounded them on three sides laden with cardboard debris and dumpsters. The Hunter’s eyes scanned past the refuse to fix on long white claw marks that'd been gouged one far of the brick walls as if the back legs of something huge had clambered up side after a leap.

“There over that wall,” Adam noted, already in the process of performing a running vault that carried him onto a dumpster and then onto the wall.

“It bit a selkie?” Kaden’s brows furrowed as he glanced back at the other hunter. There were a lot of questions there. First off, how Walker knew a selkie, which one, why he didn’t take care of said selkie while feral, how he knew any of this, if this was connected to the case Rio mentioned. Before he could decide where to begin, Walker at least allayed some of his concerns. Only some of them. “You’re sure he’s not going to turn?” In the end, that was the only question that mattered, right? He wasn’t sure a selkie could turn, but he’d seen weirder shit. “Guess I’ll have to trust you, Walker,” he answered just as flatly as the other hunter had in turn. It was strange how easily it could all come flooding back every time, the harshness, the simplicity of it all. There was a right and there was a wrong and nothing else in between. And no time for emotions or questions like the ones clawing to the forefront of his mind just then.

Kaden followed what he could see of the trail of destruction into the alleyway with Walker. Sure looked right to him, onto the dumpster and over the wall it was. He gave a curt nod and was about to check the lid of said dumpster when Adam took off. “Putain,” he muttered to himself, huffing a sigh before pulling himself onto it and hopping up to the wall. Not about to run and vault if he could avoid it. He wasn’t as old as Oscar yet but he sure as hell wasn’t about to show off for no goddamn reason.

He surveyed the scene ahead of him, looking for any more signs or clues. The crushed trash cans strewn about the streets leading to a busted fence seemed like the right answer. Kaden waved the other hunter on and followed the destruction towards what looked like a construction site. A new building, an old building, hard to say in this town. Nothing lasted too long, not when there were monsters crawling out of every crack and crevice. Kaden held his breath and tried to listen deep. He didn’t hear much beyond the wind rattling the unsteady beams and scaffolds, but he could feel the pin pricks along his spine signifying that some sort of lycanthrope was nearby. Whether it was the one they were looking for, that was a different question entirely. “I think it might be cl--” A creak and a scraping of metal came from above. Kaden didn’t need to look up to know the growling was coming from the same direction. Shit. Guess they found it alright.

Adam ran over to a figure crumbled amongst the cinderblocks. He dusted off a man in his late twenties whose red hair was greyed the construction site’s powdery rubble. Adam checked for a pulse and began cardiac compressions and mouth to mouth resuscitation.

Adam’s humanitarian concerns had drawn him farther into the construction site than Kaden. Evening’s amber light was broken by the skeletal silhouette of scaffolding and rebar, casting bars of shadow across the younger Adam as he attended to merciful procedure without enough care for his own surroundings.

A gagging cough signaled that Adam had been successful, and the Hunter helped his charge into a sitting position on one of the larger cinder-blocks. “Its Aaron Osheen,” Adam explained. “One of Killian’s coworkers...aw shit.” It was then that Adam got a better look at his rescuee, including the deep well of blood on Aaron’s calf. “Hey uh Langley we got a bite here…” However this thought was cut off as metal screeching and growling descended from above.

Kaden’s eyes were scanning along the scaffolds for any signs of claws and fangs. He saw a flash of motion somewhere in the distance when Walker called out to him. His attention shot around to see the other hunter standing over a victim. “How bad does it loo-- a bite?” Before Kaden could utter a single French curse word let alone the slew of them he had planned, a monster leapt out from the metal tower towards them.

He raised the gun in his hand and let the shots fly towards the beast, bangs ringing out in empty site. One hit. Enough to slow it, not enough to stop it. Kaden shot again, out of rounds. It closed in and reloading wasn’t an option. He reached for his knife and threw himself to the side of the versipellis, slashing at its flank. It whipped around and he could feel its hot breath hanging in the air. Which meant the fangs were close enough to snap his arm in two. It swiped with its claws and Kaden rushed to its side again. Not fast enough to miss the talons sinking into his skin. But enough to give him the space to pull himself up the beams nearby. If he could get a vertical angle he’d have the advantage. He just needed Walker to hold his ground.  

Adam unslung his machete and did a pull-up on one of the hanging rebar poles. He performed a gymnast’s swing up onto what would eventually be this building’s second floor and faced the enormous wolf that was still covered in gore from tearing up a 7/11. As with many lycanthropes, ‘wolf’ was a crude generalization for the quadrupedal goliath of muscle and unnaturally proportioned limbs before him. It was far bigger than the largest kodiak bears and yet leapt from scaffolding and cinderblocks with a grace that was truly disconcerting in something that huge.

Adam moved to flank the thing trying to claw up Kaden, bringing his machete down in a two-handed slice down one of the versipellis’ back legs, mutant strength leveraging the blade straight through solid muscle. A howling whine of pain rewarded the raw aggression, and Adam succeeded in gaining the giant lycanthrope’s attention. He readied himself to be an elusive target while Kaden closed in for the kill from behind.

But pain lanced up his leg and Adam stumbled to one knee as something jerked his other leg off the scaffolding from below.

In a critical second of distraction, Adam glanced down into the bloodshot eyes of Aaron Osheen. The cashier has sunk his teeth into Adam’s leg, foaming spittle mixing with the Hunter’s blood. Aaron has clambered after Adam in a cursed frenzy, frantically trying to drag him down to the second floor to devour.

Kaden scrambled onto the ledge and reached for his second gun. His hand was around the handle, aimed, ready to let loose on the snarling beast below when he saw Walker dragged off to the side. Shit. The victim wasn’t a victim anymore. He turned his aim towards the other hunter and the cashier, thought about picking off a shot but it was too risky. There was no way to tell limb from limb. On top of that, the mass of fur, mange, and gore leapt up, clawing at the beams in front of him. Putain.

Kaden’s eyes darted and saw a platform across the way and sprinted. Hope this works. He threw himself across to the next patch of construction. He knew the monster could clear the space between them with ease but he’d made enough time to reload, fire a few more bullets into the lycan. The squeals and screams were a pretty good indication they hit, slow it, but it wasn’t down. And it was jumping to where Kaden was standing. He braced himself for impact as the claws came towards him. He knew he shouldn’t have closed his eyes, but some instincts were too hard to fight. He expected to feel sharp scratches of pain. Instead, gravity was giving way below them both. Fuck.

Adam watched Kaden and the wolf plummet down to the rubble of the first story in a tide wave of wood splitters and bent rebar. “Damn it.” He hadn’t been fast enough to grab Kaden out of the way, the civilian gnawing on his leg. Adam gritted his teeth and lifted both his leg and Aaron Osheen onto the second story with him. Fitting back rage at the feeling of his own flesh ripping in the cursed human’s teeth, Adam steadied his breathing. He needed to get Aaron off himself without pulverising the normie to death with too much force.

Adam let in one purposeful inhale, exhaled, and brought together both his hands on either side of Aaron’s temples, boxing his ears. Even holding back, the blow disoriented Aaron enough to release his jaw.

Adam hefted the concussed coughing guy off of him, tensed his abdomen, and flipped back up to his feet in one acrobatic movement. He looked down at where Kaden and the Versipellis had fallen, fastening his machete and drawing a silvered combat knife. Adam stood a running start before leaping down one store onto the Lycanthrope’s back from above, plunging the silver knife down into the beast.  

Kaden gasped for some of the air that was knocked from his lungs when his back slammed on the ground. Walker bought him a second to reach for his-- Fuck. Kaden went to wrap his fist around his gun to find nothing but wood chips in his hand. Weight pressed onto him and teeth flashed towards his flesh. He reached out and clambered for the first thing he could get his hands on. His fingers gripped the cold metal and he swung it at the beast’s head. Spit sprayed across the hunter’s face, but his jugular was still intact.

The wolf flinched, barely stunned, but Kaden pushed himself away, kicking his way out of the rubble. Gun was nowhere to be seen. He grabbed the small silver knife in his pocket. Not the best weapon, but it was the closest on hand. The monster had spun its attention to the hunter on its back, its claw reaching up to grab the younger hunter. No. Not today. Kaden thrust the small blade down through the monster’s foot, pinning it in place as it yowled in pain. Wouldn’t last. Was far from lethal. But he needed to buy time to bring out Last Chance.

Adam found himself in the precarious bucking bronco position of riding a Versipellis. He raised up the bloody silver knife to plunge it in again in search of a vital organ, but soon he was much more focused on trying not to be clawed off the lycanthrope’s back. Well aware that being dragged under the werewolf would likely end with his innards being raked out in seconds, Adam held on for dear life as he swung his leg narrowly out of the way of the annoyed wolf’s scratching claws.

Grabbing for any handhold as his world became a thrashing roller coaster, Adam’s every muscle was taut as he held onto to his grip and his lunch. Red-rimmed blackness closed in on the edge of his vision as an increasingly frantic swipe from the werewolf found purchase on his ribs. Adam had to shift his weight to the other side of the beast’s back to avoid being dragged down. Blood from his gouged side mingled with the puncture wounds he’d driven in the werewolf’s back, and Adam’s grip began to slip from the sheer amount of blood slickening everything.

Gritting his teeth Adam risked a one-armed hold around the werewolf’s massive neck to draw his silver knife again. He began to stab the blade into the Versipellis’ throat towards the jugular and…

Everything vanished in blackness and pain.

Adam’s ears rang with dull concussed clamor as he blearily opened his eyes. Blood ran down the back of his neck from where the Versipellis had ended the annoyance stabbing it from behind by intentionally ramming itself backwards into a cinderblock wall. Adam coughed and gagged up dark bile from internal wounds. He tried to summon the will to stand, and had gotten halfway to his feet and something slammed him down again.

Adam looked blearily up into the panting face of Aaron Osheen as the infected human opened his foaming mouth to bite down on the fallen hunter’s shoulder.

Kaden’s knife wasn’t in hand in time to stop the versipellis from throwing Walker across the crumbled construction like a ragdoll. His knuckles went white around the handle, his jaw clenched, and his heart pounding in his eardrums as he charged at the wolf. It made its move first, going straight for his shoulder. Kaden ducked to the right, the monster's momentum pulled him forward and it crashed into a support beam. Which might have been a good move. If a few dozen planks of wood didn’t come spilling down from above them. He covered his head, dove away but he got slapped around all the same.

The versipellis pivoted, pushed itself off the beam and pinned the hunter to ground. This time, Kaden was ready. Or he thought he was ready. He had his knife this time. But the monster sunk its claws into his shoulders, shoving him across the wooden beams, splinters digging into his back as he scraped across the lumber. Fangs found their way towards Kaden’s flesh. The hunter kicked and used every ounce of strength he had to brace against the beast with his arms.

Pain seared into his forearm as teeth pulled at his skin, tearing at it, shredding him. If he screamed or howled at the pain, Kaden didn’t know, couldn’t remember. All his focus, everything was on the knife. Bringing it down, digging it directly into its neck. Pushing it just a little farther and twisting it for good measure.

He felt the jaws around him loosen up and Kaden shoved the monster off of him. It was fading. Not fast enough. Kaden pushed himself up, was just about to lunge back at the wolf when he heard a different sort of growl from behind him.

His gaze shot to Aaron. And Adam. The versipellis was dying. He wasn’t about to let a hunter die, too. Kaden sprinted over to them, stumbling over the mess of beams and debris, and reached to grab Aaron by his collar and yank him back.

Adam staggered to his feet, covered in blood and dust. He leaned against a pillar of riveted steel for support as everything swam with dark spots and white flares. The younger Hunter looked from the dying wolf to the still frothing Aaron. “Thanks man,” he managed to gasp to Kaden. “We’ll need to get this dude in confinement till…”

Adam saw the Verspellis lunge forward, mad with lethal pain. The wounded lycanthrope rushed towards them, a frenzied juggernaut of bleeding muscle. “Kade! Heads up!”

The pain was starting to settle in and the adrenaline was waning. Kaden had the cashier by the collar and was more or less contained, Walker was still breathing, and the versipellis was--

Kaden turned to see the wolf tunneling towards him. Aaron was tossed aside with as much care as the hunter could manage. Sharp claws and fangs lunged at him. Kaden inhaled, braced for the pain, and threw himself at the monster. It tripped back. Kaden jammed his silver blade into the versipellis’ chest. Gravity took hold once again. This time it was the monster that gave way, falling back to the ground with a shrieking whine. The hunter pulled the blade down and out of the beast’s chest. All that was left was the twitching as the fight left its body and the light left its eyes.

Kaden wanted to collapse. Maybe catch his breath. Give the injuries a one over. But they weren’t done. Not yet. He pushed his blood covered body off the dead beast and turned his attention back to the cashier. “Got any ideas?” he asked as he reached to contain Aaron once more.

“I’ve got a bunker made from a buried cargo container,” noted Adam as he leaned against the steel pillar. It wasn’t exactly the most glorious hideout, but it sufficed for having a discreet place to store things. “There’s plenty of MREs and water in there. Aaron can be locked in there till the curse wears off?”

Adam staggered over to the downed wolf. Death didn’t do much to make the giant predator less intimidating, or easier to get the hell out of here. Everything hurt, but that wasn’t any excuse to just leave paranormal evidence out in the open.  “I can bring the truck around and we can load it under a tarp?” “Hey Langley,” Adam turned his bruise-covered face to Kaden. “Thank you, like seriously, you saved my ass back there.”

Kaden’s brows furrowed. “You’ve got a what?” Aaron tried to pull away and break from his grasp. Kaden focused back on the cashier and considered knocking him out. Might make things easier. Shit, was it ethical? Aaron lunged again and that settled it. Kaden struck at the cashier’s neck at a pressure point, catching the body as he fell unconscious and setting him down. If nothing else, gave them time to tie him up to get him to that bunker.

“Sounds good.” Kaden sighed looking over at the dead versipellis. It was a lot easier when this happened in the woods. Leaving monsters there was never an issue. Concern creased into his forehead as he looked back at Walker. “You think you can make it?” Kaden asked. He was pretty badly hurt. Sure, nothing new for the likes of them but it wasn’t pretty regardless.

“Don’t mention it, Walker,” Kaden replied, offering as much of a smile as he could manage, finally feeling the weariness wash over him. “You saved mine a few times there, too. And I wasn’t about to let you die out there.”

Adam grinned, a sunbeam amidst bruises and blood. “I’ll make it Kade. Here, help me get this mega-furry in the truck.”

[piss-stained-jorts]

eternally pissed off that all the cool science stuff like organ scaffolding and space exploration and gene manipulation is kept behind an impenetrable wall of FUCKING BORING MATH SHIT AND PISS ASS BIG WORDS 

FUCK YOU NUMBERS FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU DIE I JUST WANNA KNOW COOL SHIT AND DO COOL SCIENCE BUT NOOOOOO COOL SCIENCE IS MADE ENTIRELY OF AWFUL TERRIBLE NO GOOD BULLSHIT WHY CAN’T SCIENCE BE MADE OF FUN SHIT FUUUUCCKKKKK

[leverage-ot3]

notable moments from The Nigerian Job

(PART ONE)

leverage 1.01

note: there are A LOT of scenes in this one, but they are all important in one way or another in terms of notability, character-building, etc

Dubenich: I’m sorry Mr. Ford, sorry, I know who you are I’ve, uh, excuse me. I’ve read all about you. I know for example that-that when you found that stolen Monet painting in Florence you probably saved your Insurance Company what 20-25 million dollars. Then there was that identity theft thing and you saved your insurance company I don’t even know how many millions of dollars but I just know that when you needed them… What happened to your family is the kind of thing--

Nate (slams glass down): You know that part of the conversation where I punch you in the neck nine or ten times? We’re coming up on that pretty quick.

- - - - -

Dubenich: I’m serious. Look, look at the people I’ve already hired. Do you recognize any of these names?

Nate (going through file): Uh, yeah, I’ve chased all of them at one time or anoth-- Parker? You have Parker?

Dubenich: Is there somebody better?

Nate: No, but Parker is insane.

Dubenich: Which is why I need you.

Nate (laughs): No. I’m not a thief. (closes file)

Dubenich: Thieves I got. What I need is one honest man to watch them.

- - - - -

Hardison: I’ve been doing this since high school, bro, I’m Captain Discipline.

[Flashback]

(New York City Hotel, Five Years Ago)

Manager: They came straight from the airport and up to their room.

Security: So you never actually saw any of them then.

Manager: No, but the credit card numbers checked out.

Security: Break it down!

(Doors open to reveal Hardison sitting on a couch drinking orange soda while three beautiful women dressed as Princess Leia fight with lightsabers)

Security: Does that look like Mick Jagger to you?

Hardison: This is not the room you’re looking for.

what a fucking GEEK oh my god

like, his flashback is so tame compared to the others???

like, his version of criminality is hanging out with cosplaying pretty girls and watching them fight with lightsabers, all under the guise of pretending to be mick jagger

- - - - -

Hardison (holding up an earpiece): It’s a bone-conduction earpiece mic, works off the vibrations in your jaw.

(Hardison tosses it to Eliot who holds it to his ear)

Hardison (whispering): You can hear everything.

Eliot: You’re not as useless as you look.

eliot being subtly impressed with hardison is my religion

- - - - -

Hardison: I don’t even know what you do.

[Flashback]

(3 Years Ago Eliot, wearing glasses and drinking from a mug of tea, enters a room full of men in Belgrade, Serbia)

Eliot: I’m here to collect the merchandise.

(Most of the men pull guns. Eliot takes a long sip of his drink. Outside, the windows flash with gunfire. Moans and the sound of a body falling fill the air. Inside, Eliot calmly takes another drink. One man sits at a table surrounded by bodies that litter the ground. He places a baseball card on the table. Eliot smiles)

am I the only one that wants to know the context of this???

- - - - -

(Parker drops down between Eliot and Hardison, hanging upside down from scaffolding)

Parker: Can I have one?

Hardison: You can have the whole box.

(Hardison holds the box of comms up for her. She takes one and pulls herself back up)

Eliot: What are you going to do when she finds out you live with your mom?

Hardison: Age of the geek, baby. We run the world.

Eliot: You keep telling yourself that.

(Parker puts the comm in her ear, smiling)

ot3 moments from day one baby

also eliot goes from ‘baby’ to ‘oh god, I’m baby’ in 0.0000005 seconds

- - - - -

[Flashback]

(19 Years Ago in Kansas City, a ten year old Parker stands in her living room watching her foster parents fight. The foster father turns to Parker, holding a stuffed bunny while the foster mother stands in the background, crying)

Bill: You thought I wouldn’t find this? You don’t get bunny until you do what I say. So be a good girl or, I don’t know, a better thief. (walks out of room)

Foster Mother: Bill!

(Parker walks outside and down the walk. Behind her, the house explodes. She hugs her bunny and smiles)

for the LONGEST time I thought she blew up the house with her foster parents until I saw that john rogers confirmed they weren’t home at the time

also this gives HEAVY insight as to how even the smallest part of Parker’s childhood was

abusive, emotionally manipulative, etc

- - - - -

(Parker adjusts her repelling gear, caressing it as if it were a lover)

Parker: Last time I used this rig, Paris, 2003

Nate: You talking about the Caravaggio? You stole that?

- - - - -

Eliot (examining earpiece): Is this thing safe?

Hardison: Yeah, it’s completely safe, it’s just, you know, you might experience nausea, weakness in your right side, stroke, strokiness.

Eliot (puts earpiece in): You’re precisely why I work alone.

shut up eliot you’re about to be so far gone for them it will be amazing

- - - - -

(Parker dives off the roof)

Parker: Yeehaaaa!!

(Eliot and Hardison run to the edge and watch her fall)

Eliot: That’s twenty pounds of crazy in a five pound bag.

what’s the opposite of foreshadowing? because I’m thinking about the long goodbye job and it’s reference to this (also the SIGNIFICANCE in that episode in how both hardison AND eliot repeat this line, finishing one another. because they both are on the same wavelength by that point, so in tune with one another and in constant awe of parker.)

- - - - -

parker just ??? drops the fucking glass ??? onto the sidewalk below ??? like ??? what if it hits someone ???

- - - - -

Nate: Okay, you got any chatter on their frequencies?

[Electrical Room]

Parker: No. Why?

[Unfinished Office]

(Nate checks records)

Nate: There’s eight listed on the duty roster, there’s only four at the guard post.

[Electrical Room]

Parker: I can’t even tell how many guys are in the room. How can you tell who’s who?

[Unfinished Office]

Nate: Haircuts Parker. Count the haircuts.

[Electrical Room]

Parker: I would have missed that.

[Unfinished Office]

Nate: What?

[Electrical Room]

Parker: Nothing.

mastermind father and daughter in episode ONE

- - - - -

we love to see eliot beat up four guys in the time it takes hardison’s bag to fall to the ground

- - - - -

Eliot (empties gun and smiles): That’s what I do.

(Hardison looks impressed. Behind him, the door clicks open. He and Eliot smile and enter the server room together)

the FLIRTING ENERGY in this scene

- - - - -

Eliot: Did you give them a virus?

Hardison: (chuckles) Dude, I gave them more than one virus.

hardison doesn’t half-ass, pass it on

- - - - -

Parker: Problem. Those guards you ganked?

[Electrical Room]

Parker (looking at monitor): They reset all the alarms on the roof and all the floors above us. We can’t go up.

[Hallway]

Eliot: Every man for himself then. (starts to move away)

Hardison: Go ahead I’m the one with the merchandise.

[Electrical Room]

Parker: Yeah, well I’m the one with an exit.

[Unfinished Office]

Nate: And I’m the one with a plan. Now I know you children don’t play well with others but I need you to hold it together for exactly seven more minutes. Now get to the elevator and head down. We’re going to the burn scam.

[Elevator]

(Eliot and Hardison enter an elevator and begin changing their clothes)

Hardison: Going to Plan B.

[Unfinished Office]

Nate (packing his things): Technically that would be Plan G.

[Elevator]

(elevator doors open and Parker runs in. She begins changing while the men look away)

Hardison: How many plans do we have? Is there like a Plan M?

[Unfinished Office]

Nate: Yeah, Hardison dies in Plan M.

[Elevator]

Eliot: I like Plan M.

there are SO MANY things about this scene I want to discuss but here are the top ones:

1- nate calling them out as children? amazing

2- eliot and hardison canonically changed in the elevator together BEFORE parker dropped in, but they weren’t necessarily looking away in a backs-turned way when she came in (when they were still getting finished getting dressed)

3- parker being completely nonchalant changing with two men in the elevator? she must not really care about being naked in front of other people (as seen later in what I think is the morning after job (?), for example)

4- the boys look away to be polite but there is definitely interest in BOTH of their faces

5- so this is what the burn scam entails

- - - - -

parker takes shotgun while the two boys are in the back. I need to see the scene of them awkwardly sitting together in the back. possibly bickering.

- - - - -

Nate: All right, all right. The money will be in all your accounts later today.

Hardison: Anybody else notice how hard we rocked last night?

Eliot: Yeah, well, one show only, no encores.

Parker: I already forgot your names.

Hardison: It was kind of cool, being on the same side.

Nate: No, we are not on the same side. I am not a thief.

Parker: You are now. Come on Nathan, tell the truth. Didn’t you have a little bit of fun playing the Black King instead of the White Knight, just this once?

(they all walk away in different directions)

smh you’re all 0.000005 seconds away from becoming a family

“no encores” my ass

+ I love how hardison is the FIRST one to (immediately) bring up how awesome they worked as a team

- - - - -

(Nate walks slowly down a toward a large room where voices are coming from)

Hardison (holding gun): You mind telling me what happened to the designs?

Eliot: What makes you think I know what happened? Stupid.

Hardison: Look, forget you man. You did it when we were coming down from the elevator.

Eliot: Yeah, that makes sense doesn’t it? You had the file every second.

Hardison: Hold up Kujo, I did my part, I transferred the files.

Eliot: You better get that gun out of my face...

Hardison: What did you do?

Eliot: …or else I’m gonna feed it to you.

Nate: Hey!

(the men turn, Hardison pointing the gun at Nate)

Eliot: Did you do it? You’re the only one that’s ever played both sides.

Nate: Yeah, you seem pretty relaxed for a guy with a gun pointed at him.

Eliot (looks at Hardison): Safety’s on.

Hardison: Like I’m gonna fall for that.

Nate: No, no, actually he’s right, the safety is on.

(Hardison looks at the gun and Nate grabs it)

Nate (to Eliot): You armed?

Eliot (shakes head): I don’t like guns.

(Eliot looks pointedly past Nate’s shoulder. Nate turns, pointing the gun at Parker who is holding a gun on him)

Parker: My money’s not in my account.

(She walks around Hardison, raising her gun as Nate lowers his)

Parker: That makes me cry inside in my special, angry place.

Nate: Okay, Parker. (slowly reaches out to lower Parker’s gun) Now did you come here to get paid?

Hardison: Hell no. Transfer of funds man. Global economy.

Eliot: It’s supposed to be a walk away. I’m never supposed to see you again.

eliot could have IMMEDIATELY taken the gun away but it made hardison feel safe so he was humoring him

and how easily nate took the gun away? interesting, for a former insurance agent

“you armed?” “no, I don’t like guns” eliot sweetie I love you

also parker’s entrance tho

- - - - -

Nate: Then the only reason you guys are here is because you didn’t get paid. And you’re pissed off. (laughs) As a matter of fact the only way to get us all in the same place at the same time is to tell us that we’re not. Getting. Paid.

(a look of realization goes through the group and they all start to run. Nate opens a garage door and directs them out. Hardison trips on the stairs and Eliot pulls him to his feet)

Nate: Come on, come on, get up. Let’s go, hustle. Go.

(the others exit and Nate looks back to see a ball of fire headed toward him)

eliot: I hate you all, I work alone, I don’t care about any of you

eliot 0.000005 seconds later: hauling hardison off the ground so he doesn’t die in an exploding building because ‘I guess he’s by boyfriend now’

- - - - -

Nate: Have we been processed?

(Eliot waves ink covered finger tips at him)

Eliot: They faxed our prints to the State Police.

[Hospital Room B]

Hardison: Yo, if the staties run us man, we’re screwed.

Parker: How long?

Hardison: Thirty, thirty-five minutes depending on the software

- - - - -

Nate: Parker! Get me a phone. What we’re going to do is, we’re going to get out of here together.

Eliot: This was a onetime deal.

Nate: Look guys, here’s your problem. You all know what you can do, I know what all you can do, so that gives me the edge, gives me the plan.

[Hospital Room B]

Parker: I don’t trust these guys.

[Hospital Room A]

Nate: Do you trust me?

Eliot: Of course. You’re an honest man.

Nate: Parker, Phone.

[Hospital Room B]

Parker: This is gonna suck.

(she sticks her fingers down her throat and bends over)

Hardison: Oh. Hell no

the amount of times eliot brings up that it was supposed to be a one-time thing is HILARIOUS considering just how fast he imprints on them lmfao

also how they all immediately trust him, I’m soft

- - - - -

(Parker nods compliantly. The doctor and nurse leave the room. Officer checks her handcuffs then leaves. Parker and Hardison hold up the phones they stole. After a quick glance, they switch phones. Parker holds up the keys she stole and tosses them to Hardison before standing up and talking to the vent into the next room)

domestic pardison

- - - - -

(Hardison leads Eliot to a police cruiser that Nate and Parker are already inside of. As Hardison guides Eliot into the backseat he hits Eliot head on the top of the door frame. Eliot turns and growls at Hardison)

Hardison: Walk it off. Walk… get inside. Get inside.

(Eliot gets in the car)

I love chaotic (pre)boyfriends

- - - - -

Eliot: I’m gonna beat Dubenich so bad that even the people who look like him are gonna bleed.

Parker: You won’t get within 100 yards. He knows your face. He knows all our faces.

Eliot: He tried to kill us.

Parker: More importantly he didn’t pay us.

Eliot: How is that more important?

Parker: I take that personally.

Eliot: There’s something wrong with you.

okay to be fair eliot at least is open to and listens to parker’s reasoning before concluding she’s crazy

- - - - -

Eliot: What’s in it for me?

Nate: Payback, and if it goes right a lot of money.

Parker: What’s in it for me?

Nate: A lot of money, and if it goes right, payback. Hardison?

Hardison: I was just gonna send a thousand porno magazines to his office, but, hell yeah man, let’s kick him up.

these characterizations are so on point

- - - - -

SOPHIE’S INTRO LMFAO

+ how everyone else is horrified but nate just looks entranced

- - - - -

[Flashback]

(In Paris seven years ago, Sophie is cutting a painting out of a frame with several empty frames nearby. The door burst open and Nate enters with a gun in hand)

Nate: Freeze.

(Sophie grabs her gun and shoots Nate in the shoulder. He responds by shooting her in the back. They both clench at their wounds)

Sophie: You wanker!

so are we, as a fandom, EVER going to talk about this scene ???

- - - - -

(so apparently there’s a 250 text block limit for posts on tumblr so I guess I have to make more than one post for this now. the following part will be reblogged on this post immediately after. reblog that version instead please lol)

[wherevermyway]

step out! do what you want (chapter six)

pairings: reader/bang chan, reader/han jisung side pairings: 
established changbin/minho, reader/bang chan/han jisung rating: explicit | 18+ warnings: someone dies this chapter so fucking big ass warning here! angst, violence, graphic descriptions of violence, minor drug use, use of firearms, description of graphic injuries, profanity, drug dealer!au, organized crime!au. word count: about 3,750 also can be found on my AO3 here! chapter/series navigation

chapter six: counting all the minutes and the days have been counting me

recommended tracks: another life by motionless in white, palette by iu and g-dragon, chanel by frank ocean, boy with luv (disco-funk mashup) by bts/seokjinnie, I’m upset by drake, love song by lana del rey, levanter (english version) by stray kids, voodoo people (pendulum remix) by the prodigy, straight to video (kmfdm remix) by mindless self indulgence, break me shake me by savage garden, ride it by regard; rush over me by seven lions/illenium/said the sky. playlist can be found here!

note: I am so sorry for this chapter. damn you, toastie. this is also a lot shorter than most chapters, so apologies in advance. took a lot out of me this time lol.

disclaimer: any reference to persons in this work of fiction are purely coincidental. the characters referenced from Stray Kids are interpretations loosely based on their personalities in the group and do not represent the real people behind the personas. if this, or any of the content included in the warnings above make you uncomfortable, please stop reading now.

side note: for the love of minho’s cats, don’t mix party drugs or drugs with alcohol.

“We need to go,” Changbin presses, pushing himself off of the doorframe and fiddling with his phone. “I’ve got the arsenal in the car, so you just need to get your body armour on and we can go.”

“I don’t want her coming with,” Christopher says, ruffling a hand through his hair, “it’s going to be too dangerous.”

“We don’t have a fucking choice,” Changbin grumbles, focusing on something on his phone. “Besides, I need her with so we can coax Minji out. Get her distracted enough to give us the upper hand.”

Christopher grumbles, ready to argue with Changbin, but decides against it at the last minute. He turns, kneeling down next to the bed. He pulls a hefty chest out from under the bed, unlocking it and throwing it open. He digs around a bit, tossing up a vest to you. “I think this will fit you,” he says without looking up, continuing to dig through the chest. “Jisung, take this,” he says, tossing another vest at the lean man.

“Let’s go,” he says as you slip the vest on. “We’ll make this work, alright? I’ll keep you covered as best as I can.” Christopher steps to your left, placing a hand on the small of your back.

“I’ve got you, too,” Jisung says, popping up on your right from behind you. He puts his hand over Christopher’s and smiles at you.

The walk down to the car is quiet, the dry air filled with tension. Minho is leaning up against the car, picking at something under his fingernails. Seungmin is in the driver’s seat, fumbling around with something on his phone. You all pack yourselves into the car, squeezing yourself in between Jisung and Christopher at the very back of the van.

Changbin sits in the seat in front of you, rifling through a duffel bag on the floor. “Alright,” he says, checking the mechanisms on a semi-automatic he pulls out, “here’s how this is going to go. Minji and Hyunjin are caught up in one of the Triad’s properties in Songpa-gu. If we’re lucky, there will be minimal men there and we’ll get in and get out.”

“This mostly goes for you, Jisung,” Changbin says, trying not to roll his eyes as he looks at the silver-haired man, “but don’t kill Hyunjin. I need him alive to get information on the Triads. Minji, I don’t care about. I’ve all but confirmed that she is just a pawn in their game. Nothing more than a drug trafficker.”

Jisung scoffs, grabbing the duffel bag off the floor. “Yeah, whatever,” he says, grabbing a pistol out of the bag and handing it to Christopher, “Give me some credit, man, I’m not that trigger-happy.”

Felix laughs, possibly for the first time since you met him. “There was that one time in Busan,” he starts, but Jisung cuts him off.

“It was one time!” He shouts, throwing a stray cloth at the man in front of him. “You’re lucky I didn’t shoot you! I totally should have shot you. Asshole.”

“Aish,” Changbin rolls his eyes, passing a pistol up to Minho in the seat ahead of him. “I don’t want you to have to fight, baby, but I’d feel better if you had this on you.”

“Aw, come on,” Minho winks at Changbin. “Remember that one time we were in Daegu and I had to cover your ass because your pistol got jammed? I very distinctly remember you thanking me over and over again in the back of that sports car and a couple times in the hotel.”

Changbin grits his teeth in embarrassment, blushing as he looks down. “Whatever, just take the fucking pistol.” Minho laughs at the man as he turns around.

The drive couldn’t have taken more than an hour; it felt like Seungmin had a habit for speeding. The city skyline zoomed past you, and you started to recognize the neighbourhoods of Seoul as you drove past. You got to an industrial area of Songpa-gu, somewhere you weren’t familiar with, when you stop.

Seungmin turns the car off, turning to look at Changbin, then the other men in the car. “They’re here. Are you ready?” Changbin takes in a shallow inhale, turning to Christopher. Christopher nods in response, pulling the semi-automatic rifle in his hands closer to his chest.

Felix and Jeongin lead the group of you up to large bay door of an abandoned warehouse. The vest around your chest started to feel as if it was smothering you. You could have sworn you had seen this place in some bad drama; it seemed stereotypical and expected. Group gets ambushed at the warehouse, someone gets shot, end scene. Roll credits.

The pit in your stomach grew as you realized Minji wasn’t going to make it out of here alive. The woman you knew and had gotten close to over the past year was a facade. This Minji was a lie, and she used you to get some sort of personal gain. Felix, Jeongin, and Changbin walk in front of the bay doors, their fingers on the triggers of their rifles, ready to aim if someone got in their way.

The air is tense, and a moment of silence passes before Changbin waves the rest of you over. “I’ve got your friend here, Moon,” he says as you walk towards him, looking at Minji. She and Hyunjin are standing in the middle of the floor, in front of a table with suitcases lined around it, surprised to see all of you. It looked as if they were packing the suitcases with packets of drugs.

“I know you’re alone here,” Changbin continues, “so don’t try to act tough. The Triads can’t be too far away, but they were dumb enough to leave you alone. Tells me you’re not worth their time.”

“Moon Minji,” Changbin says, quickly correcting himself, “or should I address you as Tian Xiaoli, the name you're more comfortable with?”

Minji grits her teeth as she pulls the pistol off of her hip, aiming it haphazardly at Changbin. He manages to stay in one position, completely unfazed by her threat. “Joined the Triads four years ago,” he continues, “they’ve used you as a decoy to push drugs in and out of Seoul since nobody ever expects a good, rich Korean girl to traffic drugs. Maybe I should say Korean-presenting? Fake passport, fake birth certificates. Several drivers licenses in different countries. You’re a busy woman.”

The pistol in Minji’s hand quivers, “What do you know about me? I didn’t just need the money, if you grew up in the same house I did, you’d have done anything to get out. All that pressure to succeed and getting nowhere?”

“Honestly,” Changbin chuckles, waving his hands in the air, “if I had gotten to you sooner, I’m sure we could have worked something out. Probably gotten you a better deal. Way better than whatever Hwang could get you.”

Hyunjin places his hand up against Minji’s back, positioning his free hand above the pistol on his hip. “You’re too drunk with power,” he sighs, “there’s no way for me to move up. You think you’re so good because you know everything, but you ain’t shit. You know the Triads are taking over Seoul, and it’s killing your business.”

Changbin scoffs, folding his arms. “You never put in the fucking effort.”

“What do you know?” Hyunjin growls, his eyes turning dark with anger. “You were practically handed this position, and we all know you didn’t deserve it.”

“Whatever,” Changbin says with a scoff, rolling his eyes at his junior. “You know you would never make it anywhere close to the top, and you can’t handle it. You never would have gotten as far as you did if it wasn’t for me and Christopher pulling you along the way. You’re barely useful enough to sell guns out of our group.” Hyunjin scowls, taking his pistol and aiming it directly at you. You’re frozen in place, your legs refusing to move. It feels almost as if you’ve sprouted roots from your feet, attaching you into the ground.  “You know I’m a good shot, though.”

The threat causes a panic to light up inside you. You want to move, but the roots taking hold of your feet don’t allow it to happen. Changbin takes a hasty step in front of you, his hands bringing his rifle in front of him, and Christopher moves to shove you out of the way.

Hyunjin hesitates for a second, but the ripping of gunshots fills your ears. You feel a searing pain in your left leg as the root keeping you in the ground dissolves. In a split second, you’re looking up at the ceiling, the scaffolding reaching up to the sky like tree branches. There’s something about the scenery that reminds you of being a child, laying on the ground at the playground absorbing the sunshine. It feels like there’s a ray of sunshine boring into your leg, searing you in two.

“Changbin!” You hear someone screaming, pulling you out of your daydream and back to reality.

“You good-for-nothing backstabber,” you hear Changbin spit out. You gently lift your head up, taking in the moment. There’s blood everywhere, spilling from your leg, and also coming from Changbin’s back in front of you. You’re convinced that you can see through him.

Changbin aims his semi-automatic towards Minji and Hyunjin, carefully aiming the gun as best as he can at them. He’s able to sink a couple shots in Minji, then he turns his attention to Hyunjin when she hits the ground with a thud. “I can’t believe you,” he groans, directing his rage at Hyunjin, “you fucking coward.” He unloads a couple more shots into Hyunjin’s leg, then groans as he hits the floor.

“Changbin!” The voice screams again, louder this time. Minho shouts at the top of his lungs, rushing to Changbin as he falls. Christopher reaches out to grab him, but the smaller man just slips out of his grip. He mutters something under his breath, swapping out the magazine of his pistol.

Jisung comes bolting around the corner, aiming directly at Minji with his semi-automatic. You see him take in a quick breath before he unloads the magazine in his rifle directly into her. She reaches her pistol up towards you, but it falls from her hand as she completely collapses into the ground.

Hyunjin falls against the wall, staring down at the literal bloodbath at his feet. “Holy shit,” he breathes out shakily, his hands trembling as he grips his hair, “Changbin, Minho, Chan, I…”

“Shut the fuck up, you traitor,” Jisung spits out, pulling the pistol holstered at his hip. He cocks it, aiming it at Hyunjin’s head. “I should unload this into your fucking skull, but you’re of more use alive to me than dead. So, you’d best pray to God that I’ll show you mercy as long as I need to keep you around.”

Changbin grips Minho’s collar, pulling him close. “Baby,” he groans out, “I’m sorry I never got to finish that song for you.”

“Binnie, baby,” Minho cries out, grabbing Changbin’s face, “don’t apologize. You’ll finish the song. You’ll finish an entire album for me.”

Changbin weakly smiles, dragging his fingertips across Minho’s face. “If I had the chance to do this all again,” he says, coughing up thick, viscous blood, “I would have asked you to marry me the minute you got out of the hospital. You were always my person. Fuck,” he says, with a deep, heavy cough, “you were always my person, Minho. I’m so glad I got to know you, that I got to love you. So glad I got to be your person.”

Minho’s face contorts into a strange shape, reflecting an expression you can’t quite comprehend. “Baby,” he whines, “you will still have the chance. I will marry you a thousand times over as long as you’re here, I promise, Binnie. I love you so much. Just stay with me.”

But the pleading he tries has no effect. Changbin slips from Minho’s grasp, his body going limp. The two of them sit there, Minho gripping Changbin as tightly as he can. Minho pulls Changbin to his chest, keeping him there for as long as humanly possible.

When he realizes that Changbin can’t, and won’t, respond, Minho screams. He screams from the bottom of his soul, for as long as he can possibly manage. Hearing him scream in such a raw, primal way makes your stomach turn.

Christopher is the first to move, working his way towards Changbin and Minho. “Min,” he whispers, “let me help you get-”

However, Minho has none of it. He looks up at Christopher, his eyes burning red, “No, I won’t let you,” he whimpers. “I am not leaving Changbin; I’m not going to let him go.”

Christopher runs his hands through his hair, tears threatening to spill from the corners of his eyes. Felix and Seungmin make their way to Hyunjin, picking him up and carrying him out of the room. Jeongin slowly paces his way to where Minji lies, kicking her shoulder with the tip of his boot.

“Unbelievable,” he mutters under his breath, “I can’t believe any of this.” Jeongin turns, slowly pacing his way to you. He kneels down and offers you a hand. “Are you okay?”

You don’t really know how to answer him, so you simply shake your head. “Changbin,” falls from your lips, as you look at the way Minho grips Changbin in his arms. Jeongin shakes his head twice, reaching his hand up to wipe a tear off of your face.

“It’s what we do,” he says at a near-whisper. “We protect civilians, and if one of us is out of line, we take care of it. Any one of us would have taken a bullet for you, it just happened to be Changbin this time.”

“But, I didn’t-“ you try to say, but he cuts you off, putting his finger over your lips.

“I know.” Jeongin nods. “But this is how it happened. Nothing we can do now.”

You’re not really sure how much time slips forward as you sit in the quiet, cold warehouse. Felix tied a tourniquet to your leg at some point, mentioning that it probably wasn’t going to be too serious, but he would take a look at it when you all got back to the safehouse. At some point, Seungmin and Jisung take Changbin from Minho, where he completely collapses.

Minho’s face is void of expression; you stare at him as he gazes beyond you, far off in the distance. There’s a large amount of drying blood covering him from his shoulders down to his ankles. Felix says something to him, saying he needed to check Minho for any additional wounds, but the older man doesn’t respond.

“Minho,” Christopher says, leaning down to him, grabbing his shoulder and trying to get him upright. “We can’t stay here forever. The longer we’re out here, the more likely we’ll run into the Triads.” The brunette ignores Christopher’s request, continuing to stare off somewhere far behind you.

“February sixteenth,” he manages to whisper out, his voice cracking as he says it.

“What?” Christopher lets go of Minho’s arm, cocking his head to the side.

“He said ‘I love you’ on February sixteenth last year.” Minho whispers, closing his eyes, “it was the first time he told me that he loved me. We were in Shibuya. He just finished signing Jeongin, and he had finished recording a demo album and he was so excited. Everything was finally going well.”

Minho slowly sits up, keeping his eyes closed. “He wanted to go to Canada or Australia this winter, get married. Actually, legally married. He even jokingly said something about a romantic wedding somewhere in Europe. Of course,” he sighed, letting his head fall into his hands, “that wouldn’t have meant shit here. He wanted to get away from all of this, go move somewhere far away from this shit and start a family somewhere. Never see any of this again. We were so close. Almost there.”

Minho sits on the ground for another few minutes, silently letting himself cry into his hands. Christopher gets down on his knees, pulling the younger man to his chest, letting him completely fall apart. “I’ve got you, Min,” Christopher whispers, stroking Minho’s hair. “It’s going to hurt for a while, I know. We’ve got you, though. You’re not going to go through this alone, you’ve got your brothers.”

It had to have been another hour before you all finally made your way back to Incheon. The drive was completely silent, absent the ambient noise from the highway. Felix spent plenty of time looking over both you and Minho for residual wounds, cleaning up minor lacerations and patching up other scrapes. Jisung gave Minho a couple of tablets of what you assumed was Xanax, which helped him sleep the entire way home.

Christopher and Jisung help carry Minho into the apartment, setting him down on the couch. Seungmin and Jeongin take the van back to another safehouse, presumably to keep Hyunjin in one place and to handle Changbin’s body. Felix pulls you aside to take a look at the bullet in your leg, able to clean the wound out with some careful attention, and he tells you that he’ll bring you in to their clinic tomorrow to take care of the bullet removal.

Felix unpacks a backpack he brought upstairs with him, hooking up an IV to Minho. “Don’t worry,” he says, noticing the concern on your face as you watch him. “He’s always had problems with anxiety, so I’m just going to keep him out overnight and try to get some fluids back into him.”

“Felix is our resident medic, in case you haven’t noticed,” Jisung says, gently squeezing your shoulder. “Whenever something like this happens, he’s always on top of the medical care. We’re pretty lucky to have him around.”

The bleach-blond man scoffs, measuring out a liquid from a vial, injecting it into a port in the IV. “Yeah, you are,” he laughs, “I remember trying to teach you some basic medical stuff and you almost killed Seungmin because you forgot to expel the air from the syringe.”

“Yeah,” Jisung rolls his eyes with a sigh, “there’s a reason I don’t do this shit. Anyway,” he grabs your waist, pulling you to the bedroom. “Why don’t we let Felix take care of Minho, and we can get some sleep?”

“That’s probably a good idea,” Christopher says, flatly, as he opens the door to the bedroom. You and Jisung follow him through the door. Christopher collapses on the floor as soon as he steps through the door. Jisung comes up behind him, his hands coming up to his sides. “Chan,” he says, bringing his hands up to Christopher’s face. “It’s okay, it’ll be okay.”

“No,” Christopher says, weakly, “It won’t be okay. Changbin is gone. My best friend is gone.” He looks like he wants to cry, but his face is completely void of emotions. He just lets himself melt into the floor, staring down the patterns in the wood. “Changbin is gone,” he whispers as he closes his eyes.

Jisung looks up at you, words escaping him.

“Christopher,” you say, but you’re not really sure what to tell him. You know there’s nothing that can help fill the hole he feels in heart. You bend down, reaching your hands out to him. “Come on, why don’t we get up on the bed and get some sleep? We can talk about this tomorrow.”

“Hell,” Jisung sighs, “at least let me grab you a pillow if you’re gonna try and sleep here. Alright?”

“No,” Christopher says, slowly working his way upright. “She’s right, I should sleep on the bed. You never know when someone you care about will be taken from you, so I might as well sleep with both of you.”

Jisung flings his arms around Christopher and looks up at you. “Yeah,” he says, nuzzling his head up against his superior’s. “Come on,” he pulls at Christopher”s shoulder, “nobody can see you cry on the bed, anyways.”

The three of you manage to make your way up to the top of the bed. Tonight, however, is different, compared to the way you’ve usually fallen asleep. You and Jisung take the edges of the bed, wrapping yourselves up around Christopher in a protective cocoon. You’re not sure what time it is when you fall asleep, just that the sun had started to come up when your eyes finally shut.

You also can swear you hear Christopher whisper something as you fall asleep, but you’re not sure if it’s just your mind playing tricks on you. It almost sounds like he’s saying your name and that he loves you.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Boing Boing Charitable Giving Guide 2019

Here's a guide to the charities the Boingers support in our own annual giving. Please add the causes and charities you give to in the forums!

Friends of the Merril Collection I'm on the board of the charity that fundraises for Toronto's Merril Collection, a part of the Toronto Public Library system that is also the world's largest public collection of science fiction, fantasy and related works (they archive my papers). Since its founding by Judith Merril, the Merril Collection has been a hub for creators, fans, and scholars. I wouldn't be a writer today if not for the guidance of its Writer in Residence when I was a kid. —CD

The Tor Project The Tor anonymity and privacy tools are vital to resistance struggles around the world, a cooperative network that provides a high degree of security from scrutiny for people who have reasons to fear the powers that be. From our early hominid ancestors until about ten years ago, humans didn't leave behind an exhaust-trail of personally identifying information as they navigated the world -- Tor restores that balance. —CD

Planned Parenthood Because we deserve health care, including reproductive, gender, and sexual health care. Because access to birth control and safe abortion is a human right. Because Trump's regime wants to destroy all of this. —XJ

Software Freedom Conservancy Software Freedom Conservancy does the important, boring, esoteric work of keeping the internet from tearing itself to pieces, playing host organization to free software projects like Git, Selenium and Samba (to name just three). The Conservancy keeps these projects legally sound and gives them a scaffold to hang their institutional structures on them. Without the Conservancy, the software you love and depend on would be in dire peril.

Electronic Frontier Foundation I have been proudly associated with EFF for a decade an a half now and have watched, half-awed, as it grew from a scrappy, brilliant little organization to a powerhouse of enormous scale and power. Every cause, every fight enumerated on this page and in your life and mine will be lost or won on the internet. EFF is the best hope we have of keeping that internet free, fair and open. —CD, MF

Creative Commons Creative Commons is best known as a tool for sharing-friendly artists, but that's just the tip of the iceberg. Since the beginning, and all over the world, CC has provided governments, agencies, research and scholarly institutions and NGOs with the tools to easily share across borders and the bewildering array of copyright laws. We can't beat trumpism without collaboration tools, and that includes legal tools. —CD

Wikimedia Foundation (Wikipedia) For 16 years, Wikipedia has been figuring out how to negotiate truth among diverse and even warring points of view. It's not always pretty and it's not always nice, but no one's yet found a better way to let ideas bash against each other until something everyone agrees upon emerges. It's not pretty, but compared to our democracy, it's a beauty queen. —CD, KS

Human Rights Data Analysis Group For more than twenty-five years, the Human Rights Data Analysis Group (HRDAG) has used data and statistical analysis to hold accountable the perpetrators of war crimes, crimes against humanity, and genocide. HRDAG is a nonprofit, non-partisan organization that provides rigorous quantitative evidence for trials, truth commissions, UN Missions, and human rights monitors around the world. In 2019, HRDAG estimated the number of women held as sexual slaves by Japanese authorities in World War Two; the number of people disappeared in the final three days of the Sri Lankan civil war; and the number of people killed in drug-related violence by the police and other perpetrators in the Philippines. In the US, HRDAG critiqued the growing use of machine learning in the US criminal justice system, especially those used in place of bail to determine who should be released while awaiting trial. HRDAG's analysis has shown that machine learning can amplify biases in criminal justice data, for example by worsening racial disparities in policing. Other ongoing HRDAG projects include research on mass violence in the Philippines, Mexico, Sri Lanka, and several confidential projects in the US and abroad . —CD

Institute for the Future There are no facts about the future, only fictions. As we've learned in this crazy political season, nothing is certain about tomorrow. But even as our attention is captured by the present, we can begin to write the story to come. A place to start is the Institute for the Future's Future for Good fellowship. Institute for the Future, where Mark and David are researchers, is a 50-year-old nonprofit that helps the public think about the future to make better decisions in the present. The Fellowship directly supports inspiring social innovators who are working to make tomorrow a better place. You can help too. Make a donation of $100 and you’ll receive IFTF Distinguished Fellow Bob Johansen's new book "The New Leadership Literacies: Thriving in a Future of Extreme Disruption and Distributed Everything." —DP, MF

The National Wildlife Federation National Wildlife Federation is a voice for wildlife, dedicated to protecting wildlife and habitat and inspiring the future generation of conservationists. Now's the time: for the people currently in charge of U.S. policy, the cruelty is the point. —RB

The Marine Mammal Center When seals, sea lion, or many other sea going pals need help, if they get lucky, they may be taken to The Marine Mammal Center, a veterinary hospital just for them. Thousands of heartbreakingly cute, but very wild, animals are rescued, rehabilitated and released on an annual basis. I'm a volunteer. In addition to the hundreds of highly trained volunteers that make the hospital run, the center always needs cash for fish and medicine. —JW

Winn Feline Foundation The Winn Feline Foundation advances feline health by supporting research and education. Winn has funded over $6.4 million in health research for cats at more than 30 partner institutions worldwide. Current campaigns include funding for research on Chronic Kidney Disease, a condition estimated to affect more than 50% of senior cats. —KS

The Southern Poverty Law Center & the Anti-Defamation League The Southern Poverty Law Center and the Anti-Defemation League fight hate, teach tolerance, and help secure justice, and fair treatment for all. "There is no 'them' and 'us.' There is only us." --Greg Boyle —JW

Facing History and Ourselves Facing History and Ourselves is an international educational group that helps young people study issues around racism, antisemitism, and prejudice in history, from the Holocaust to today's immigrant experiences to the killing fields of Cambodia. Their aim is to teach young people "to think critically, to empathize, to recognize moral choices, to make their voices heard, we put in their hands the possibility--and the responsibility--to do the serious work demanded of us all as citizens." —DP

Free Software Foundation/Defective By Design The Free Software Foundation's principled litigation, license creation and campaigning is fierce, uncompromising and has changed the world. You interact with code that they made possible a million times a day, and they never stop working to make sure that the code stays free. —CD

Free Software Foundation Europe Software has eaten the world, and software freedom is increasingly synonymous with human freedom. In Europe, far-right parties and authoritarians are inheriting a constellation of gadgets and devices that are "defective by design," built to allow corporations spy on and control their owners -- and those thugs are contemplating how they can use those companies' extraordinary powers to put whole populations under their thumbs. Free software in Europe, free software everywhere! —CD

The Internet Archive: In an era where the control of information has been weaponized, the Internet Archive's mission -- universal access to all human knowledge -- is a revolutionary manifesto. The Archive has taken on a new mission: to re-decentralize the internet and restore it to its indie, distributed glory. —CD

Open Rights Group The UK's answer to Electronic Frontier Foundation, and never more badly needed than now, with authoritarianism on the rise and the constant battering of the electorate with political misadventures and grandstanding. Brexit could allow the UK to escape the oversight of the European courts, paving the way for even-more-extreme measures. —CD

Amnesty International I just looked up Amnesty's founding principles and found tears rolling down my cheeks: "Only when the last prisoner of conscience has been freed, when the last torture chamber has been closed, when the United Nations Universal Declaration of Human Rights is a reality for the world’s people, will our work be done." These values need our support more than ever. —CD

ACLU On November 9, 2016 ACLU changed its homepage to a picture of Trump superimposed with the words SEE YOU IN COURT. ACLU's deep bench of kick-ass lawyers has been lately augmented by a much-needed group of freedom-fighting technologists, welded into the fighting force we'll need until the next election and beyond: from voter suppression to free speech, the ACLU is key to the fight. —CD, MF

Liberty With the UK plunging into surveillance dystopia where human rights are an afterthought and racial profiling is becoming official doctrine, it needs Liberty, an organisation with 80+ years' track record fighting for human rights in many incarnations of the British project. The Tories ran on a platform of repealing the Human Rights Act: when the government is officially anti "human rights," you need someone like Liberty to take the "pro" side. —CD

826 National Born in San Francisco’s Mission District in the back room of a pirate supply store, 826 National teaches young people the art and magic of creative writing through classes, DIY publishing projects, in-school programs, and drop-in tutoring at seven centers around the US. And it’s all free for the kids. Help open more 826 locations around the country! —DP

Fight for the Future Some of the Internet's savviest, hard-working-est activists. Fight for the Future has kept hope alive for Net Neutrality, leading the charge to use the Congressional Review Act to overturn the FCC's Neutrality-killing sneak attack. —CD

Demand Progress Aaron Swartz co-founded Demand Progress, and as you'd expect from that history, they're relentless in reinventing the activist playbook for the 21st century. —CD

MySociety Software in the public interest -- it's a damned good idea. MySociety produces software like Pledgebank ("I will risk arrest by refusing to register for a UK ID card if 100,000 other Britons will also do it") and TheyWorkForYou (every word and deed by every Member of Parliament). It's plumbing for activists and community organizers. —CD

https://boingboing.net/2019/12/03/charitablegivingguide2019.html

[thievinghippo]

Spider Flower for Bethroot and Blackwall! :D

Josephine’s mother’s name is courtesy of servantofclio. Thank you Clio! And this got long, so it’s partially under a cut!

#

Maybe it was a mistake to host Josephine’s wedding to Lord Otranto at Skyhold. It made sense in Orlais. Have one last hurrah before starting the arduous task of disbanding the Inquisition. 

But when Josephine warned her just how exacting her mother will be, Bethroot simply shrugged it off and thought she could easily deal with it. She just stopped a qunari invasion and lost half her arm less than a month ago. 

How hard could planning one wedding be? 

That would be before she met Lady Eugenie Montilyet.

“Inquisitor! Inquisitor, where are you?” 

Bethroot might be a one-handed rogue these days, but she’s still a rogue. Keeping to the shadows, underneath the scaffolding to help with the decorations Lady Eugenie insisted on, she slips into Solas’s old room. 

She doesn’t have the heart to paint over his work, not even knowing that he means to kill everyone in Thedas. The simplicity is beautiful. 

But she can’t linger, not when Lady Eugenie is on the warpath. Bethroot wonders what’s wrong this time. Maybe they didn’t order enough appetizers or the color of the napkins are wrong. 

Whatever the complaint is, Bethroot doesn’t want to hear it, so she sneaks onto the ramparts. A moment later, she barges into Cullen’s thankfully empty office, and head down to the courtyard. 

There’s only one place where she knows she’ll be safe, thanks to Lady Eugenie’s fear of horses. Pretending she doesn’t have a care in the world - and she doesn’t, now that she’s escaped - and walks into the stables. 

Thom is sitting in a chair next to the fire pit, whittling a small toy of some sort. At her entrance, he stands. “And here I thought you’d be in meetings most of the day,” he says, putting his woodwork down on the bench. 

While they’re on ground level, there’s still always the chance of discovery. So Bethroot puts a finger to her lips and walks up the stairs into the loft. 

“I take it things went well,” Thom says as he follows her up the stairs. 

She walks to one of their spots, the one where he can sit against the wall and she can lean against him, both of them looking over the courtyard. An excellent place to watch in case Lady Eugenie is determined to find her. 

A moment later, her head is tucked under Thom’s chin as his arms are wrapped around her waist and all feels right with the world. 

There’s no healing or fighting in the courtyard right now, just dancers. Apparently the Montilyets always make a show of traditional Antivan dances during weddings, and this one will be no exception. 

“I’m just tired,” she says, gesturing towards the dancers. “Who knew a wedding could take this much work?” 

“Is this the type of wedding you’d want?” Thom asks, tightening the grip on her waist. 

Bethroot stills. They’ve never really discussed the idea of marriage. Trying for a child, yes, but getting married? It’s never come up. 

Maybe it should. 

“You’ve seen me at diplomatic functions. I’m not good at being on display,” Bethroot says. 

“I guess I’m more wondering if you want a wedding at all,” Thom says, and there’s a hesitation in his voice she hasn’t heard in years. “Not something we’ve really talked about, I know.” 

Bethroot turns in less than a heartbeat so that she’s on her knees, face to face with the man she loves. “Thom Rainier, did you just ask me to marry you?” 

Thom pushes a bit of hair out of her face - she had to cut it after the Exalted Council - and nods. “I suppose I just did.” 

Without thinking, Bethroot leans forward and kisses him hard, ignoring what an awkward position they’re in. Instead she focuses on his tongue gliding against hers and how he’s digging his fingers into her ass. 

When they break apart, Bethroot simply looks at Thom. There’s a touch of awe in his face, one that she’s sure is mirrored in her own. 

“Is that a yes?” he asks. 

Bethroot can only nod and kiss him again. She will never tire of kissing him. Ever.

“We’re going to get married,” Thom says softly, with a slight chuckle, deep from his chest. 

“We’re going to get married,” Bethroot repeats. What wonderful words. “But I don’t want a wedding.” 

Now that the idea is in her head, she wants to figure out some details. “Something very, very small, and maybe we keep things to ourselves a bit. I don’t want to steal Josephine’s spotlight.” 

Thom tilts his head. “How quickly do you want to get married?” he asks, sounding amused. 

One thing Bethroot is good at is planning. One of the reasons why she made an excellent negotiator back in her Carta days. She also doesn’t like to wait when she’s made a decision. Another excellent trait.

“Let’s find Sera, Varric, and Mother Giselle,” Bethroot says. “We can be married in an hour.” 

Sera’s here for the upcoming fun at Josephine’s wedding, though under strict instructions to leave the nobles alone. Varric and Bethroot have so many business investments at this point, they might as well be family. 

“I fucking love you,” Thom says, bringing her back into his arms for a kiss. 

Bethroot happily kissed him back. “I love you, too,” she says, standing up. She holds out her hand. “Now let’s go get married.”