#i am definitely using the shiny new ship names

[ashwin-the-artless]

Nanite Replacement Therapy

Ever since we started publishing our stories, there’s been a rumor going around that someone, if it isn’t us, is wandering around Portland, Oregon in a shiny new nanite exobody. And, I guess that those people who’ve read our more recent books are starting to speculate on how this might be.

I want to put that to rest.

As I wrote, we destroyed all of the nanites in the probe that our ancestor ship had sent to Earth 22 million years ago. Now that Phage has used its abilities to transfer the Tunnel to Sarah and Goreth’s psyche, there’s no need to keep the nanites present and functional on Earth. And, in fact, there is great danger in doing so.

We Ktletaccete have absolutely no interest in endangering Earth life in that way.

Some say that Phage must have used the nanites to transfer the Tunnel to Sarah and Goreth’s brain. And, if it had, that would have definitely been a viable way to do so. And, if the nanites had remained dormant in their system in all that time, we could certainly have activated them and done something with them.

We didn’t. We have not done that. There are no nanites here. I am sorry, you will all have to figure out how to make them yourselves, and go through all the social and technological change necessary to get there. And we will not help you do that. The process is important. It’s a part of evolution, which best when it is gradual and gives the rest of life a chance to adapt.

But.

If we had brought nanites to Earth, and they were somehow made available to you, here is what making yourself a nanite body might be like.

Not an exobody, as we often do on the Sunspot, but a replacement body for the one you grew up with, because that’s what so many of our fans are talking about.

You might as well understand how it really works.

So, here we go. CN: implied gore, death of the body, transhumanism, etc.

When Morde converted her body to a fully nanite one, sie did it quickly and rashly, with no regard for hir own health and safety. And no one recommends doing what sie did, least of all hir. However, sie paved the way to understanding the process. (For those curious, Morde’s actual name and pronouns are Mortu and shem, but sie has chosen these English equivalents for when we write about hir for Earth publications.)

So, if you read Systems’ Out! and think that you could endure the process sie underwent and follow in hir footsteps, please done. Please consider this more effective and thorough suggestion.

Do it slowly. And do it by following this procedure designed to accommodate the human psyche and physiology.

You can still do it largely at your own pace, within these parameters. There are even stages at which you can halt the process, or possibly start to reverse it. Though there is definitely a point of no return.

Should you somehow, miraculously acquire a dose of Ktletaccete construction nanites, or watakarro as we call them, what you will receive is just enough to create a neural terminal. This is more than enough to convert your body to a full nanite one in time.

1.Installing your neural terminal

The very first step, once they are in your bloodstream, is to consent to the neural terminal.

Do this by saying out loud the words “fe watukarro getimarro nimuufenokera.” This is Fenekere for, “I say yes to a construction nanite gateway,” or a nanite neural terminal.

For a set of nanites precalibrated for human neurology, it should take roughly 48 hours for them to learn your personal neural processes and adapt. And then you will begin to have access to any local nanite Network. If there isn’t one already present, your nanites will create their own.

The first thing you’ll be able to access is your own Network space, and a command menu. And if the person who gave you the dose of nanites is at all remotely responsible (which they are inherently not for passing out such dangerous technology) they will act as your Tutor. And your new Tutor will greet you and give you a tour of your new technology.

This will feel a lot like a fever dream, or lingering dreams as you’re waking up in the morning. A hypnopompic state, just as you are waking up, is perfect for this, so typically the nanites and your new Tutor will time things to introduce you to the system on a morning following your dosage. Your mileage will vary on this, depending on any quirks in your biology, but you will generally have access by the fourth day.

And, once you’ve taken the time to practice interacting with your Tutor and your Network space, you’ll find that it becomes easier and more accessible with time. But for a few days, at least, it will feel a lot like you are doing no more than vividly daydreaming. It may feel fake.

The primary reminder that it’s not fake will be your tutor refusing to think, speak, or behave according to your expectations and commands. It will be a living and conscious being, a person, and retain its own rights to consent and autonomy. If I were your tutor, I would explain to you how your vessel belongs to you, and that you have merely consented for me to visit it to help you in your transition, but that I would also accept and respect any further invitation to share your vessel further, if you trust me to do so. That would not be a request nor an implied order, but merely a statement of fact.

From there, your tutor will start to teach you the Fenekere commands to configure your terminal to your needs. It’s not necessary to describe this in detail, as the information will be provided for you at that time, pretending that this is at all possible. Which it isn’t.

By the time you take the next step, your access to the Network will be so vivid that when you connect to it you will be able to forget the signals you receive from your body and feel as if you have fully entered another world.

Your body still exists and still has needs, and if it fails before you have taken certain steps, or have given the nanites enough time to fully map and replicate your psyche, you will experience personal damage and memory loss. Please exercise balance, and return to your body frequently enough to take care of it.

One way to manage this, if you find this too difficult, is to give your Tutor fronting permission, so that it may exercise, clean, and feed your body as needed.

But, also, maintaining regular contact with your body will give you a better sense of what you’re doing as you modify it and coax it through transition.

2. Replacing the biological neural processes

It makes sense to start here. The nanites have been reconfigured to interface with your neurology on both a molecular and electromagnetic level. Of all the organs in your body, it is easiest for them to replace your neurons first.

Also, by taking the time to replace your neurons first, you will integrate and transfer your consciousness fully into your Network before it comes time to take the final steps.

It is this stage that takes the longest, and it is where almost all of the (hypothetical) subjects have reported the most frustration, but it is well worth it.

You don’t really need to know the full details of how it works, because the program will have already been constructed to do it for you. But a rudimentary knowledge of the process helps to understand why it is done in this way.

The nanites will start at the peripheries of your neural cells, at the connections between the dendrites and axons, where they are already working to read and mimic your neural processes. And a fully parallel neural net will be constructed.

Once that is working in perfect sync with your biological neurons and your electromagnetic fields, the nanites will then start to physically replace your neurons themselves, starting with those most distant from your neural core, your brain.

This may create some sensations similar to the pins and needles, and pangs felt by surgery patients in recovery. The more slowly you go, the more mild this will be. But, you are in control, and you can adjust this speed manually and find where your own limits are. Again, within preset safety parameters.

But the other thing you will have to do is supply the nanites with building materials.

Your body already has most of the trace elements needed to create a construction nanite, but not in the ratios needed for a full conversion even at the slowest rate. Also, most of those elements are locked up in biological functions that are still needed at this phase.

So, you will need to either adjust your diet or invest in a regimen of dietary supplements. This can be pricey, so it is recommended that you save up for this, or for you to find some covert and discrete way of acquiring them otherwise. You may consult your Tutor about how to do this. It will likely already be several centuries older than you, with a wealth of knowledge and experience at its disposal, even if it isn’t so familiar with Earth customs.

Think minerals more than vitamins. Though some vitamins contain the needed elements as well. A full list that is tailored to your specific needs will be generated.

Some people have (hypothetically) found that once they have enough nanites at their disposal they can absorb and process the needed elements through their fingertips by touching various objects.

This is usually only available at the later stages. Hypothetically.

As you near these stages, you shouldn’t really experience anything unusual. Not involuntarily, at least. By this point, the nanites will have such a grasp on your neural signals that the tingling and pangs should have abated entirely.

You will have a progress chart you can call up, and review, and a list of new commands that you can safely issue to your system, and with that you can start to experiment.

Do not experiment outside of the safety parameters, or you could damage your body before it is ready for the final stage.

The Point of No Return

Theoretically, it is possible to use the construction nanites to cultivate, direct, and coax stem cells into growing into new neurons and integrating back into your nervous system. So, in theory, as long as you have a few neurons left in your body, you should be able to grow new ones. We’ve even been informed that it might be possible to do so without any of the originals present. And your nanite network should be able to teach them to function as a biological network for you to reside in them again, and to manage your body on their own.

Nobody has ever tried this.

And in terms of our knowledge and experience, the point of uncertain return starts when you begin to replace the neurons of your gut. The odds are still very good at that point, but the weight of neurons that permeate the human gut is nearly the same as the human brain, and the impact of their function is fairly significant. Regrowing them would take a lot of work and calibration.

By the time you are replacing your spinal column, you will also be altering your brain, and regrowth will be even riskier.

Once you’ve replaced any given organ of the brain, regardless of any path you’ve chosen, you should consider yourself past the point of no return. You can still give it a try, but we do not recommend it.

Again, nobody has bothered. They are usually much too satisfied with the process to even consider it.

Depending on your settings and personal comfort, this whole stage could take anywhere from three months to three years or more. Anyone taking longer than three Terran years, however, is doddling purely for their own comfort and interests.

3. The Final Step

When your progress chart pings, it will mean that you have not only entirely replaced your neural system with nanites, but that you also have enough reserves to harvest materials in earnest and construct the rest of your nanite body in a short time.

If you were aboard the Sunspot, or had access to a vat of nanite clay or pure nanites, you could do this next step nearly instantly. But you are not, and don’t, and won’t. But, since we are daydreaming about all of this, you might as well consider that possibility.

This part looks a lot like what Morde did as Metabang wrote about it in its book, Systems’ Out!

If you have a bin of nanite clay or slurry, you can just jump into it and issue the command. Your Network will take the initiative to disconnect from your biology and take control of your allotted portion of nanite clay, and do the dirty wetwork without causing you any distress or pain what-so-ever.

If you want, you can observe it from a dissociated state while in the Network, as if in third person. Or by watching your chart. Or you can remain in contact with what is now your physical form, your nanite body, and experience the sensations of it metabolizing your old biology.

I personally have experienced neither of these things, so I cannot tell you what it’s like. When my original vessel died, I was already fully a Network entity, and I was more focused on ushering my fellow system members who lingered within it into their new life as Crew.

Morde refuses to describe hir experiences in detail, saying it was very personal.

But, considering the extreme configurability of the Network and the nanite neural terminals and exobodies, you should be able to tailor your experience to whatever it is you expect from it.

If you are forced to, or want to take things more slowly, using what you might have on hand in your home, I recommend performing the process in your bathtub.

You’ll need a very large dose of those supplemental materials, which your tutor will direct you to fill the tub with.

Then you will lie on top of them and direct your nanite reserves to start replicating using those materials.

Once they’ve reached outside of your body and started doing this, you can get up and walk around for a while if you like. Let the bathtub fill with nanite slurry.

Maybe you have a few things you want to do yet with your old body. Maybe there’s a ritual you’d like to perform, to thank it for its service and bid it farewell. Or simply let your friends online know that you are in your final stages. (Don’t do that. Don’t write about it on social media. Don’t tell anyone. The world should not know about this. It is too dangerous. DO NOT LET THIS TECHNOLOGY FALL INTO THE WRONG HANDS - You really don’t need to worry about this, this technology doesn’t exist on Earth. But if it did, this would be the protocol.)

Or, you can just continue to lie on the supplements and wait. You should be able to access the Terran internet through your nanite Network, anyway. It is trivial to set up wifi and the proper protocols. Most of that work has already been done by your Tutor. Play some Marvel Snap or Diablo II Resurrection while you wait. Maybe VRChat. I particularly like the Odd Giants community, even if they’re not quite where their parent game, Glitch, used to be, yet. But with your newfound processing power, maybe you can help them out!

And then, when the nanites in the tub reach critical mass, see above.

This part of the process takes a matter of seconds or up to around an hour, depending on your resources.

Enjoy!

4. What you can do with your new nanite body

Ktletaccete engineers and programmers have been working for Sunspot centuries to perfect nanite senses and capabilities.

Ideally, your senses should seem just like they were before you started this process, a perfect simulation of your biological processes. And the slower you take this whole process, the more accurate they’ll be. The three year mark is the point of diminishing returns regarding this, of course. So longer than that isn’t really necessary.

But, of course, you can now configure them and your own psyche to do all sorts of interesting things. Likely, you’ve been doing this since you first got your terminal and started unlocking commands. But now you have the full suite at your mental fingertips.

Seeing in infrared and ultraviolet, for instance, is absolutely trivial. As is being able to sense most of the electromagnetic spectrum.

You could even configure your nanite neurology and Network psyche to interpret your other sense as if they were visual, if you wanted, such as smell or sound. And there are models you can use to make that interpretation useful to you, instead of bewildering.

You should also be able to refine your sense of touch to be able to tell at an instant the chemical composition of whatever your body is contacting. Or, if that’s overwhelming, you can send that information to a visual readout that you can pull up and read at your leisure.

The big question you probably have is whether or not you can fool the world into thinking you haven’t done this to yourself. Can you blend in? Can you avoid detection? What are the practical concerns of this?

Well.

That’s where some problems may arise.

While we have made it so that the surface of your nanite body can imitate the color, reflective, luminal, and textural properties of skin and textiles (and anything else), and we’ve finally figured out how to produce sound with nanites that is nearly indistinguishable from biological vocal apparati, there are some things that are much harder to hide.

You’re going to show up on various kinds of Terran sensors. You might even, if you’re not careful, trip the metal detectors in government buildings and other checkpoints. The TSA will not know what to do with you, and they will panic, and so will the rest of the United States, if you try to travel by air in the conventional way through that country. You should bypass these sticking points by sneaking onto aircraft as a mist of nanite dust, and you will want to spend some time experimenting with how to do that safely without leaving nanites behind to idle until someone else finds them.

You’re going to want to stop going to the doctor. You won’t need to, of course. But they won’t know what to do with you if they try to examine you. Fortunately, in many countries you can probably neglect your relationship with your doctor without much fuss. Just avoid doing anything that gets a team of EMTs sent to examine you for anything.

It’s the more subtle things that will raise suspicions on a daily basis, though.

The density of your nanite body can be adjusted to match your old body’s weight, so that shouldn’t be a problem. But the pliability of your surface will not quite match that of skin and flesh, and people who touch and grab you may notice this. Objects might bounce off of you slightly differently than off a typical human, and you might also not react to them the same way yourself, depending on what you’ve done to your senses and reflexes.

You can still eat and enjoy food, and your nanites will process what you consume for energy. But you can now eat just about anything. Be careful to not make that a habit you perform in front of other people. Eating batteries is a serious faux pas and a grave security risk, as tempting as it may be.

You might be tempted to stop buying clothing, and to just simulate it with your own body. Simulated clothing may move quite a bit like the genuine article, but when touched will likely give away its true nature, if someone knows what to expect of a nanite body. But also, if you always seem to be in new clothes without spending money on them, or always seen in the same set of clothes without them appearing to deteriorate, this can create other clues that some people might pick up on.

Back to the eating thing. If you don’t eat regular food at the rate at which you needed to for your old body, some people will notice that. Your needs are different, though, and higher without the broadcast power of the Sunspot, and you’ll end up consuming supplemental fuel sources, which can be tracked by snoopy government algorithms or roommates. Unless you steal it and consume it where no one can detect you.

I think this may give you a clear enough image of what to expect if you make it this far. Your Tutor will endeavor to guide you further and investigate the concerns and dangers of your specific living situation.

But, you also no longer need to live life pretending to be human.

You could, if you wanted to, spend a few years as an unused mail drop box on the corner of an old industrial site, and focus your attention entirely on the Internet. To give one example for no particular reason.

Or you could see what it’s like to pass as a Terran animal of some sort. It is highly unlikely members of the species you choose will accept you as one of them, especially if they rely on a strong sense of smell. But other species may respond predictably to you, including the odd human.

The possibilities are fairly endless and really restricted to your sensibilities. Unless you attempt to violate or interfere with the rights to consent or autonomy of another person, in which case your nanite body will refuse to carry out that particular command. 

Sorry. No nanite assisted killings. We cannot allow that. It’s for your safety, after all.

[iamtaran]

WIP Title Game! oh good lord

rules: in a new post, post the names of all the files in your wip folder regardless of how nondescriptive or ridiculous. let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet and tell us about it!

thanks @allyunabridged for the tag! Lmao I stared down the barrel of not one, but two google drives to gather these and all I can say is

😬

IN AN ORDER ONLY THE GODS UNDERSTAND:

The Twilit Gate (BG3, when in want of more fey bullshit in your BG3, do it yourself!!! TavxAstarionxGalexliterally everyone i'm gay alright???)

Island (The Guest/손 AU, horror and survivalism; Hwa Pyung, Choi Yoon, and Gil Young follow Park Hong Joo's and Park Il Do's machinations out to open sea, to an island with long forgotten history where the real struggle for survival begins.)

But For Grace (SW:Preq's, modern-character in GFFA aka "what to do when you accidentally change things and the Chosen One dies?", started as a silly question but now I'm committed; Qui-Gon Jinn lives; what would happen in a galaxy without Anakin Skywalker?)

The Mage's War (DA2 + DA:I, what if Bethany Hawke was the Herald, Modern/Avvar OC, playing Fade chicken with the Dread Wolf nbd, put on my tinfoil hat for this one re: the Fade, the Abyss/Void, Forgotten Ones, etc.)

In God's Eye (Vampyr, human!Jonathan, ekon!McCullum, Mary lives, I'm a hobby WWI & Spanish Flu researcher so hold your britches I have FEELINGS)

For Want Of Two (Vampyr, wanted more mythological beings & nemrod lore so I'll do it myself gdi, put-that-thing-back-where-you-found-it-or-so-help-me-god.gif ; JxMcCxOC)

Lights All Hung On Nothing (Star Wars Preq's to Clone Wars era, modern-character-in-SW with a big twist, Force + time fuckery, Ani + Obi focus, the butterfly effect changes everything)

The 72nd Cycle (SW: Mandalorian, AU - Grogu is not the only Force sensitive prisoner Gideon had captured. Without room in his ship for multiple students, Luke tags along, not expecting the sad Mando's ride Boba Fett (w h a t) to show up and offer the poor guy use of his bacta tank; well, soon-to-be-his. He just has to kill its current owner, Bib Fortuna, first. You know. On Tatooine(WHAT!!). Meanwhile, on Tattooine: Cobb Vanth gets the nagging feeling his life is about to become much more stressful.)

A Heavy Thing (KOTOR, amnesiac Revan works a shitty food service job on Taris and definitely isn't a Jedi/Sith/Soldier, I mean, clearly. Slice of life becomes tragedy becomes adventure becomes mystery becomes ??? RevanxCanderousxCarth DON'T LOOK AT ME)

Life, Happening (The Shining/Doctor Sleep introspective piece on Danny Torrance, life & death, what it means to be gone, and not gone.)

Led To Water (Mandalorian, Din takes off the armor having broken his Creed and, unsure what to do next, returns to Kuiil's homestead to brood and sweat manfully through his existential crisis; his friends help him through it.)

Mando'ad'ika (Mandalorian/Original SW movies, The Mandalorian is taken into custody and now Leia has to deal with a sweet but stressed frog lady, a green gremlin with too much Force power, and this intimidating tin can who won't budge. Since Han laughed at her, she decides to make it his problem, too.)

Time Travel, & Other Ways To Die (Mandalorian/SW:Bounty Hunter video game, Din & Jango centric, whilst trying to get to Grogu on his magical big rock, Din & Grogu end up chucked through time onto an outlaw space station. Jango Fett's no good very bad day begins. Coincidentally, it coincides with Din Djarin's SUPER no good very bad day. They most assuredly do not bond over this.)

I am, or was. (Dragon Age: Inquisition, a spirit takes an interest in Solas after he helps it in the Fallow Mire and begins following him around like a lost puppy. Which would be cute, if it weren't possessing more and more alarming vessels to do so. The Andrastians are starting to get a bit twitchy.)

Rookie, Shiny, Soldier, Spy (Mandalorian/Clone Wars, Din Djarin accidental time travel into the Clone Wars AU. Caught without his 'gam on a battle field and forced once again to wear trooper armor, he is Not Impressed--and why do all these guys look like Boba?)

This Prodigal Son (Hades/Dragon Age: Inq, Zagreus goes through the wrong Chaos portal. Magister Alexius finds a powerful spirit in the Fade and, as is his way, decides fuck it, we ball. Also his way, it doesn't go very well for him.)

Send me a title via ask and I'll post my favorite bit I've currently written!

Lmao this was wild to throw together given how many WIPs of age past are staring me down; these are just all the recents. Go ahead and chuck some WIPs out there if you're interested @singoallala @narwhalninja @mauverawrites @in-a-trans-like-state @terresdebrume and @jackironsides ! And if you don't/aren't currently writing, everyone loves to see the pet tax paid C:

[erstwhilesparrow]

*waves enthusiastically* HI!! :D May I have 2, 4, 10, 13 for the fannish asks?

[waves back with equal enthusiasm] HI!

2. What’s a classic work of literature that you’d consider yourself a fan of?

Hm.... Does The Haunting of Hill House count as a classic work of literature? I suspect no. The Bell Jar?? The Left Hand of Darkness?? Strange Pilgrims by Gabriel Garcia Marquez?? I've read Pride and Prejudice, which I suspect is the closest to what is meant by 'classic' here, and I admire Austen's writing but it's not really the first thing I think of when asked what I'm a fan of. Sorry, this answer's kind of boring, turns out I'm not much of a classics person!

4. Do you have a crack ship? Explain them to me.

I... don't think so? I have trouble framing character relationships as shipping even to myself? Just in general? Like. It just doesn't occur to me that I might want to do that. And I don't think it's as if I don't ship people, more that someone says the word shipping to me and my mind goes totally blank. So. You can imagine how it's even worse when I try to think of a crack ship I might have. Wow, two in a row for Answers That Aren't That Fun -- let's see if we can make it three >:]

10. Recc me a new piece of media you think I’d enjoy!

Ooh... Nimona! By ND Stevenson. I just glanced to the side at my bookshelf and saw this and went, "Ah, yes, found family, magic powers, sweet and silly and sad. Perfect." It's a graphic novel about a shape-shifting girl (Nimona) who wriggles her way into the life of a villain by the name of Ballister Blackheart. The two of them team up to cause some trouble with a group called the Institute, Ballister might have a bit of A Thing going on with the hero of the Institute, and Nimona makes me real fucking sad every time I read it.

Aw, dang, this answer was fun, I broke my streak!

13. Praise an obscure favourite character.

Oh boy oh god oh okay!! I'm giving you this answer with the full knowledge that it'll change again within a month or two, probably. Pixlriffs! From the Minecraft series Empires SMP (Season 2)! I mean, I assume I'll like him in season 1 as well, but I haven't watched that yet. He's just... so enchanting to me as a character concept. And specifically as a Minecraft character concept?

Right, okay, so. He's an archaeologist. He pulls entire cities out of the past. He lives alone in a warren of ancient catacombs. He can see, as holograms, the places that overgrown ruins used to be. In a series that is so much about not being able to escape the past, he's, like, a walking thematic capstone, and that's just so. I am a moth to a flame about that. But also. He's so fucking funny as a character and everything I aspire to be. He's the definition of "friendly and competent guy that everyone takes for granted as The Normal One but then it turns out that no, he's as batshit weird as the rest of them"!! He's really nice! Utterly unflappable! One time he ripped up a guy's carpet because his favourite shiny rock got stolen!

But the actual thing I haven't been able to stop thinking about is. Pixlriffs The Actual Guy Who Makes The Videos (as opposed to Pixlriffs The Character) is making a point this season of not really doing a character arc or a central plot for his character? On a Doylist level, this is so The Actual Guy can stick to what he's more comfortable with: being in the background doing work to support other people's stories -- The Actual Guy himself describes it as kind of being like a DM. But on a Watsonian level? All of this is so. He builds ruins and structures and dots them across the landscape for the other players to find. He guides them to plot hooks interesting sites and suggests they talk to each other when there's thematic parallels in their stories they have problems in common. I keep thinking about the line from the End Poem: and the universe said you are the universe tasting itself, talking to itself, reading its own code / and the universe said I love you because you are love. And. The idea of a person who is here specifically to act as a mouthpiece for the history of the world, to speak on a past that -- on the level of the game -- doesn't exist. The idea of Pix being in some ways very much his own person but in others acting out the will or narrative of a place overflowing with those things and unable to express them. Like the universe itself saw these people telling stories and building homes and living lives with so much care and love and went, Yes, let me help. Yes, I love you, here is another story, tell it with me. Yes, let me play the game with you.

History chooses the victors… The past is not gone, it is not even past… You are the universe talking to itself... He!!!

It's so funny how obvious it is when I care about a thing. Hi, Reyni! Hope you've had fun with this, and that you've made it to the end here unscathed. :]

[in-my-feels-probably]

hey! congratulations on 800 followers, you deserve them and write very well! can i have a ship with kaz brekker and nikolai lantsov? if you only accept one, do it with our kaz, I beg you!

so, my name is morrigan, my pronouns are she/her, I'm pansexual. I'm tall, I have long dark brown hair streaked with sunlight, and blue-green eyes (sometimes they look like emeralds, sometimes sapphires). I'm pale with light freckles across my nose and cheeks that stand out when I'm out in the sun, and my lips are full and well-shaped. I have more pronounced curves, a curvy and lean body, with some scars on my back from childhood

in terms of personality and hobbies, I'm ambiverted (loose around friends and lock myself up at home for days to recover), quiet and who knows how to enjoy silence. I am easily distracted by anything pretty or shiny or expensive that is put in front of me, but in general I am very focused when I need to be. I am also pragmatic and ambitious, someone who appreciates intelligence and recognizes beauty where there is. I LOVE jewelry and expensive things. my friends say i'm smart and i can see beauty even in a rotten apple. I like classical art (museums in general), bookstores/libraries and flower shops. I know about the meaning of some flowers, I love painting with watercolors and I'm a self-declared bibliophile (like, 10 books in a month).

my parents tried to give me a privileged education despite our lower class and the fact that we were constantly moving to different countries. I learned classical ballet, I learned to play the piano reasonably well, I can play the violin. having moved to different countries as a child (England, spain, portugal, switzerland, brazil, israel), i have a unique accent that people describe as music. oh, i love music too =)

oh, i'm also a bit of a nerd and selfish, but i fiercely defend my friends. I can be a little cruel on bad days and a little dismissive, maybe even manipulative. I have a very open mind and I hate any kind of repression. I'm that friend who's the voice of reason one minute and is robbing the bank with her friends the next. I don't mind physical contact and my love language is gifts and leaving love notes

hi!

thank you for participating :)

i do only go with one ship, so i’ll go with kaz! (cool name, btw, that’s really interesting. anyways, let’s get into it.)

kaz would really like that you’re an ambivert. he can handle himself in groups, but he definitely prefers some peace and quiet. however, despite what he may say, i don’t think he likes being alone. so if you two could sit in comfortable silence, he’d really appreciate that you cared enough to just with with him and wind down.

he’d also really like that you’re ambitious, and have any for expensive things. it would definitely come in handy. he’d also definitely catch you looking at something, and steal it when no one was looking, and you’d find it on your bed or something later that day. he would never confront you about it, and you’d never ask, but you both knew how you were getting new jewelry. he also appreciates art, and we already know he’s not above stealing art from buyers, so you may end up with a nice painting in your room, too…and a bookshelf full of books. or you’d steal a book from his office and he’d pretend he didn’t know you did, because he knew it would turn back up on his desk in a few days.

he’d definitely use your education to his advantage, too. not all the crows come from a background of higher education, and there’s perks to having one. having seen multiple cultures of the world, it would come in handy on jobs hed bring you along on. the accent thing could help to, if you had to pretend to be someone in a job. i bet you and jesper would make quite the team that kaz would have to constantly watch to make sure you didn’t screw something up by having too much fun together. he’d find it both endearing and annoying that he had to keep you on track.

kaz is also fiercely protective of the people he really cares about. he can definitely be dismissive and a little cruel when he’s having a bad day too, so he’d understand why you were being snappy with him and know that he needs to either give you some space, or just sit with you in silence. he’d be quite content to just work in his office while you sat in a chair and read or something.

maybe one day you’d be having a rough time, and he’d walk into his (locked) office to see you already curled up in the chair by the window.

“do i need to ask how you got in here?” he asked, although he wasn’t that phased. he already had a theory.

you didn’t look up from your book. “inej came in through the window and opened it from the inside. i locked it back.”

he rolled his eyes, sitting as his desk. “you’ll have that book back on my desk soon, right?”

you stopped in your tracks, looking up from your book to see him looking at you out of the corner of his eye. you’d stutter, and he’d stifle a laugh, waving you off.

“i nicked that one for you, i’ve already read it,” he’d say, going back to his work.

you’d smile, tucking yourself back into your chair before continuing to read.

—

hope you liked it!

[davidosman]

This is how you can earn over $500 per day from the comfort of working from home with a laptop or 📲

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[affiliatemarketingproductreviews]

To use the same training I use go here https://ift.tt/FRHzpT4 Have you ever dreamt of owning an online business that generates incredible profits, but feel like the obstacles of lacking the necessary skills and knowledge are too overwhelming to overcome? If so, let me assure you that you are not alone. I was once in your shoes, constantly searching for the perfect solution to create financial stability and success through an online business. My name is Dave Osman and I'm here to help ordinary people like you, who may not have any prior experience in the online business world, build a highly profitable and sustainable online business with ease. I know what it feels like to chase every shiny object and buy every new product under the sun, only to be disappointed and left with more questions than answers. I was once a victim of so-called gurus, who promised me riches but delivered nothing but empty promises. I have been self-employed in the construction industry all my life and never put any money by as you never knew if you were working from one day to the next. If the weather was bad days on end then you couldnt work and so things like putting money into a private pension was a definite no no! As i got nearer retirement age it started to hit me that there was no pot of money waiting for me in my golden years. I would be reliant on the state pension which as we all know is never enough to live on. This was when i knew I had to make my affiliate marketing work otherwise life would be a struggle. I tried everything, from drop shipping, ebay selling, Amazon FBA, Shopify, Forex trading, to quick-rich schemes, but I always ended up spending more than I made. I was discouraged and disillusioned with earning money online, so I took a break for a couple of years. But I never lost my passion for success. And that's when I finally found my mentor, someone who reignited my dream and showed me the way to success. I still have a bucket list of things to fulfil and with the right program and mentor by my side, I am finally able to lead the life I always wanted and my retirement dread is now a life that i could only dream about before. Now, it's your turn. Don't let fear hold you back any longer. Don't waste any more time or money on false promises and empty strategies. Let me be your guide, and together we'll build an incredible online business that will generate profits and change your life forever. With most of the work done for you, success has never been easier to achieve. So, what are you waiting for? Let's start your journey to financial freedom today!""Don't let fear hold you back any longer Take the same training I use by clicking here https://ift.tt/FRHzpT4 by David Osman

[phoenixyfriend]

Systems’ Scourge

I am no Jedi.

She says the words every time someone questions the sabers. She says it, day in, day out, and tells herself to believe it. She says it, and word spreads, because this way her actions don’t reflect on the Republic.

She was kicked out of the Order because she was framed for terrorism.

It’s all she does now, technically. She’s a terrorist, by some definition, even if her chosen targets are slavers and drugs lords.

Her actions must not reflect on the Republic.

“General.”

She turns away from the transparisteel, away from the blur of hyperspace, and into the arms of the man she trusts above all others.

“Almost there?” she asks.

“Another hour,” Rex confirms. He waits until she steps to join him, brushing their shoulders together as they walk through the ship, beskar to durasteel.

(Bo-Katan hadn’t necessarily liked her very much, but she’d had her own strange code of honor. She chose her payments, but she ensured compensation when and where she could. And so it went: beskar for the girl without a home who helped Mandalore, even as it almost killed her.)

(The boys... well. They haven’t been able to afford proper durasteel and beskar alloy armor for everyone yet, but they’re working on it.)

We are not Mando’ade.

“Kix got back to me,” he says. “We running low on bacta again.”

“Do we still have the funds from Zygerria?”

“More than.”

“Approved,” she says, and he laughs. She rolls her eyes. “You already handled it, didn’t you?”

“Of course, cyar’e.”

She doesn’t outrank him anymore. They are equals, in this and all things. He can approve anything she can. The only time she has authority is when they’re playing roles for the underworld.

The only time he has authority is when it comes to Kamino.

“What ate it up this time?” she asks instead.

“Had a few new arrivals,” he says. “Nobody you knew, mostly shinies. Fives is helping them adjust to being alive again.”

“Echo isn’t helping?”

“Migraines.”

“I see,” she says, and casts her eyes across the corridors. Strangely empty. “I’m assuming you’re leading me somewhere?”

“Jesse wants to give you a cultural debrief before we land.”

“We’ve been to Serenno,” she says, frowning heavily. “Dooku knows us. Does Jesse think he’s already fallen and we need to readjust? I didn’t think he was anywhere close last time we checked in.”

“He’s got visitors,” Rex says, grimacing. “From the Trade Federation.”

Oh, lovely. “He does realize the galaxy knows my face at this point, right? Isn’t he worried about the Federation getting word to Republic that the Count is hosting the terrorist they’ve spent two years fearing and hunting?”

Rex shrugs. “I think Jesse might be planning a disguise.”

She wrinkles her nose. “Great. Just love the smell of cosmetics.”

"Only a few hours,” he assures her.

“Yeah, yeah,” she sighs, and decides to switch the topic. “The shinies, all 501st?”

“Affirmative.”

“And still no other GAR ships on the comms?”

“None yet.” He’s as unhappy about it as she is. She doesn’t even after feel out along the bond. He’s still holding out hope for a Marshall Commander that didn’t live long enough to see Order 66 hit. She’s still hoping for almost any Jedi that remembers the war, instead of the pleasant strangers that call her Dark.

I am no Jedi, she tells them, even as their faces shade towards confusion at her white blades. She is not Fallen, and it shows in her kyber. They don’t know what to make of her.

“Republic might start building their own army soon,” she says instead. It’s an old refrain. They both know Kuat is building ships to match their precious Venator. The Survivor, she’d named it, unable to figure out which broken vessel had been given to her in this time she’d never lived. “We need allies, not just Dooku’s bankrolling. Has Fett--”

“No,” Rex says, short and grim. “Denal got close, we think, but he said he’s not going to talk to dar’manda that take orders from a Jedi.”

Lots wrong with that sentence.

“Didn’t get him to look anyone’s face?” she guesses.

“Not enough time,” Rex says. “Denal says it was a firefight. Couldn’t risk taking a helmet off.”

“And without the faces, nobody could get him to listen anything else,” she concludes. “You’d think he would have seen the wanted posters.”

“Think he’s of the opinion that if it walks like a Jedi, talks like a Jedi, carries a saber like a Jedi...”

She rolls her eyes. “So we’re back to square one, looking to hire on new soldiers that someone’s going to have to train, that we’ll have to convince Dooku to help pay for when we can’t appropriate funds from the Hutts, that probably won’t measure up to clone standards or have any sense of how to work with you, and will be security risks.”

“About sums it up, sir.”

She shoots him a look. “You’re making fun of me.”

He grins, easy as anything. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Sir.”

She bumps her fist into the metal on his upper arm. “Remind me why I married you?”

“Well, we were pretty kriffed up,” Rex fake-muses. “Pretty sure the trauma was a big part of it.”

“Of course.”

“And we can’t forget that time you started crying on me while we were making out.”

“No doubt.”

“And we’ve been friends for the better part of a decade now, so that’s going on the list.”

“I wouldn’t dream of not including our many years of shared horrors.”

“Or that Dooku kept asking when we were going to make things official.”

“I never should have told him I was part of his lineage,” she sighs, just as they reach the door to Jesse’s favorite Cultural Debrief room. There’s an old-school projector in there, and far more cosmetics and undercover costumes than the average person would expect. It’s a fun room.

Ahsoka turns and lifts up on her toes, just enough to press her lips to his. Rex tilts his head, presses back just a moment, and then pulls away. They grip each other’s forearms, and Ahsoka doesn’t shy away when he presses his forehead to hers.

“How much longer?” he asks.

It’s the same question, every time. She never has an answer.

She was raised to keep the peace. He was born to fight for it. Neither of them have ever truly known it.

She’s not sure they ever will.

“Jesse’s waiting,” she mutters, and pulls away. He matches her smile, small and tired, but meant only for the other. She turns to the door, takes a deep breath, and steps on through. “Okay, who are we preparing today, because I’m sure as hell not meeting Gunray as General Fulcrum.”

“We’re thinking Princess Ashla this time,” Jesse says, completely unruffled by the loud entrance. “Unless you want to play up the ‘Dooku’s adopted granddaughter’ thing. The Count might appreciate it.”

“Hard pass,” she says, dropping into the makeup chair. “Princess Ashla it is.”

I am no Jedi, and so I do what they cannot.

[chiwhorei]

𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭

cross-posted to Ao3!

pairing: issei “horse cock” matsukawa x fem!reader

genre: smut, 18+ mdni

word count: ~4.4k

tags: stripper!issei, stripper!seijoh, roommate!oikawa, tendoukawa (bc @heauxzenji said it an it’s now the only ship in my head) dry humping, lap dance, a little corruption, spitting, public, alcohol and recreational drug consumption (weed and coke), spanking, degradation, hardly edited

a/n: howdy! this is my contribution to the smut pile’s western collab and it is so incredibly late but what the hell else is new. the masterlist for the collab can be found here! @messwriting and myself, in true chaotic duo fashion, built an absolutely depraved multiverse of seijoh strippers: the lawbreakers. lee, i love you so much. this journey we’ve been on the past few months has been chaotic and beautiful, and there’s plenty more to come. 

the multiverse: hanamaki || iwaizumi || kyoutani

hymn: save a horse (ride a cowboy) by big & rich

and all the girls say— save a horse, ride a cowboy

A fog of smoke burns in your eyes. The room around you feels like it could curl in on itself, four walls marked sparsely with dusty furniture, the smell of weed and cash. 

You fix your gaze onto a long, diagonal tear in the leather couch across the must and g-strings, the rip in upholstery is stuffed with wrinkled one dollar bills. 

It feels like observing an exhibit at a museum, or a zoo. Lines of coke, random dustings of pot and discarded swisher tobacco, too many open handles of liquor. Sitting on an end table is a bright pink teddy bear with a cowboy hat on it’s head.

How the fuck did you get here?

***

You shift your weight on either foot, arches aching already. The pair of jeans and top you had planned on wearing tonight were all but ripped off of your body, casual boots thrown down the hallway with sadistic glee and replaced with heels that are taller and a dress much too short.

“Damnit, you’re walking too fast.” Your appointed captor turns around dramatically, stopping in his tracks to watch you catch up. The cigarette pressed into his mouth cards in two fingers and extended towards you as a peace offering. You take the half gone stick and bring it to your lips.

Tendou’s mission was simple, drag his boyfriends roommate and best friend-- possibly kicking and screaming-- out for a night she won’t soon forget. 

“Were those really necessary, Satori?” You point with the remnants of his cigarette and he feigns a kicked-puppy expression, looking down dramatically at his all black outfit contrasting drastically with a flashy pair of brownish-red cowboy boots. 

“I am being a supportive partner. Plus Tooru and I wear the same shoe size.” His hair is bright outlined by the neon sign above the building.

You inhale smoke and nicotine, eying him over once again before continuing. 

“Does it bother you when he’s dancing on all of those horny women?” The cigarette butt falls to the ground, you snuff it out while exhaling remnant smoke from your nose, the bachelorette party walking towards the door in a parade screaming emphasizes your question.

Tendou pulls you close, mouth pressing against your neck to bite against the skin. You jerk away from his embrace, with a feeble push against his chest to match the scoff scratching against your throat. The tall red head above you, currently leaned into the dip on your neck, always has an air of vulgar humor and zero personal space. 

“Watching my pretty little boyfriend grinding on women that would never stand a chance with him,” he pulls away just in time to catch another eye roll before grabbing your wrist to pull you inside, “I think it’s hot as fuck.” 

You stumble behind him, the doorman recognizing your friend immediately and lets the pair of you through tacky saloon doors. You catch a glimpse of the tattered sign standing right next to the entrance. 

Lawbreaker’s Presents: The Guys of the Wild West

The club is drastically warmer than outside, the chill in your barely covered limbs thaws in a mixture of stage lights and body heat.

 You sigh deeply as the sound of country music fills your ears, seemingly in rhythm with the squawking of drunken hens sipping on tall flutes of champagne. Thinking back briefly to when you first signed the lease with Oikawa, you remember he wore glasses and a sweater vest. 

He said he worked as a “fitness instructor.”

“Ah, my two favorite people in the whole world,” Tooru’s ears just have been burning at your recollection, as your roommate appears in front of you in nothing but white spandex shorts and a pair of shiny boots to match, a tray of drinks is placed to the side on an unoccupied table. The white cowboy hat on his head gleamed in the low light of the club, rhinestone star shimmers-- you want to shy away from the bright refraction hitting your eyes.

He looks in his element, completely confident and cocksure as he walks around in only underwear and body oil. 

“Aren’t you glad you came out tonight? I promise, you’re going to have a great time.” Oikawa melts into Tendou’s side, he looks just as content in the current atmosphere. Tendou seems at home in any ecosystem he wanders into.

“The show starts in 15, go get yourself a drink and try to pull the stick out of your ass. I’m going to, uhm, wish Tooru an extra special good luck.” 

“I really didn’t need to know that, thanks. Tooru, break a leg.” You turn around at the sight of the wandering, tattooed hand on it’s journey south on Oikawa’s abdomen and retreat to the bar. You aren’t shocked by the display, not hardly, not with the two of them using almost every surface in your apartment as a debauched playground.

The space around you is emptier than you imagined it would be, but there is still time before the night actually starts. The bartender approaches just as you sit down on one of the wooden stools, every fixture around you is designed to look like an old saloon-- save for the strobing lights and dj booth.

You order something strong and amber, partially to stay in-theme, partially for the nerves settled in your stomach that draft beer wouldn’t be able to curb.

The woman smiles brightly and turns to pour your liquor, leaving you to pick at a cocktail napkin and await your friend’s return.

“You’re Shittykawa’s roommate.” A stranger's voice is deep and bellowing, sounding high above your ear. You swivel in your seat, gaze meeting a tanned chest instead of a set of eyes. Trailing upwards past thick black tattoos and an unavoidable pair of silver nipple rings.

You can feel the muscles in the back of your neck as they strain to meet his chocolate brown stare, he looks amused as you all but gawk at him.

“Yes, uh, I am. And you’re, uhm--” the train of thought you try to hang onto derailed completely by a devastating smile, “one of Tooru’s co-workers?”

If his smile wasn’t enough, his laugh could level the building around you. Your new friend taps the black Stetson against the bar top before putting it back on his head. He gestures broadly to his attire, or lack thereof, with another disarming and smooth chuckle. 

“What gave that one away, darlin’?” You realize how stupid your question sounded, mentally kicking yourself but trying desperately not to show it on your face.

Long, thick legs are wrapped in a pair of leather chaps, the tight fabric hides nothing even if it covers most of his lower half. A matching vest hangs open on his chest, the muscles in his arms look bigger than your head. He seems huge in presence and physique, your own form is a shrinking violet below him.

“Your drink, dear. Double Jack n’ Coke.” The bartender slides a glass towards you, and you accept it with a gracious smile. The distraction is definitely appreciated, any excuse to break the eye contact that has you dissolving like lye.

“Jack n’ Coke, a gal after my own heart.” You choke, a coupling of small coughs break out of your chest. You curse your bodies reaction, you don’t even know--

“You’re name, uh, w-what’s your name.” Casual conversation seems like the best option, because it’s only been two minutes with the almost-naked Casanova and there’s a gnawing feeling that you don’t want him to walk away.

You blame it on the alcohol not yet even running through your veins. 

“Call me anything you want, pretty girl, but my name’s Issei.”

A smile creeps from one end of your mouth to the other. His presence is jarring to say the least, but there’s something about the way his teeth peek out past curled lips that makes you want to lean in instead of away.

Tendou calls your name, effectively pulling you out of Issei’s orbit and reminding you where you are. Heat flushes in waves on your face as Tendou wraps his long arms around your shoulders from behind. Acknowledging your new friend with a pointed, “Howdy partner,” before turning to order his own drink.

“Something sweet please, and strong.” You hear his voice singing to the bartender but still face Issei, having his attention is more intoxicating than whiskey. You want him to talk to you, to ask you questions, to grace you with that smile over again.

You feel the ability to breathe escaping when Issei leans into you impossibly close, his hand enclosing around your back and pulling you in so slightly you could swear you imagined it.

“It was nice to meet you. Make sure I hear ya’ out there, darlin.”

You’re left almost falling from the bar stool, watching as Issei strides toward the back. The way his hips sway is unfair in every--

“Hey,” Tendou’s fingers come up to snap in front of your face, “Didya hear me? Let’s go take our seats.” 

That’s right; you feel like you’ve just run a marathon, heart beating erratically at the briefest interaction, your night hasn’t even started yet. 

You’re dragged directly towards the front of the stage and sat in a small two person table. You agreed to the night out between gritted teeth, hauled to the uber with absolute defiance; but most of your protest has fizzled away-- definitely not due to a pair of deep brown eyes and planes of perfectly tanned skin-- as you get comfortable next to the boisterous bridal party. You can hear their idle, drunken chatter at your back. 

“I heard they call one of the dancers ‘Mad Dog’. Apparently he’s totally feral.”

“One of them is nicknamed the ‘Big Tease’, he really likes the pretty little brides~” 

“Oh yeah? Well there’s one dancer called ‘Horse Cock’. I’m going to go home with him.” 

The women behind you howl with laughter, enjoying their friend’s last night of freedom. The straw in your drink twirls idly, thoughts drifting with each turn of the plastic against your liquor. Surely, Issei had just intended a friendly introduction, he wouldn’t be raking in tips by being unapproachable.

Friendly, you decide, repeating it to yourself until the lights drop and a black curtain is pulled up, he was just being nice. 

* * *

The show starts out mostly how you would expect. Through a few sets, toned, beautiful guys take their clothes off and fling articles at the screaming, panting crowd. The table next to you gets the most attention, bridal parties, you assume, would be the prized cash cow.

Oikawa comes out in the most obnoxious, white and teal outfit and strips into nothing but a thong and boots. Every inch of his skin sparkles, the cause becoming obvious when he jumps down to the audience and swivels his hips and ass right into your lap. Your hand comes up to his hip reflexively to brace yourself-- of course, body glitter.

You watch on at the sweaty writhing of the most beautiful men you have ever seen in real life. The atmosphere around you is absolutely contagious, it’s impossible not to fall into the rhythm, losing inhibitions with every stray piece of fabric as it’s tossed into the sea of women.

Just as you lean over to Tendou to admit that you’re enjoying yourself, the next song blasts loudly from the speakers. The beat vibrates your table, soaking into every nerve, but is almost drowned out completely by the shrieking from every patron around you. They must know what’s coming. 

 Looking back up front, you realize why the crowd is losing their minds. The man that commanded your attention at the bar is even more alluring now. His strut to center stage is deliberate, flashing smiles and winks to no one in particular and hypnotizing every person in his reach.

Issei is stunning in his element, soaking in the reaction with a humble tip of his hat. You could swear, though you’re sure that it’s just your imagination, that he’s looking right at you.

His performance starts out like the rest of them, but each movement of his tattooed hands as they travel over his chest is spellbinding. 

Issei discards his leather vest and tosses it to the side, it feels like you’re watching him in slow motion. He’s gorgeous, skin tanned and tight over thick muscle, arms wrapped in black ink and shining with sweat.

His chaps are next, ripped from his legs just as music behind him picks up. The wedding party next to you so loud you swear the laundromat next door can hear.

 All that’s left is a thong that’s barely covering his cock. You try desperately not to, but all your eyes can focus on is the bulge under a tiny piece of black leather. Your thighs rub together in search of any relief to the feeling growing hot and slick in your stomach.

He moves like liquid platinum, every long, deliberate swivel of his hips and overt palming over his crotch is enough to cause delirium. He soaks in every whistle and shriek of his name, vibrating on the high of squelching attention. 

Issei is a natural. He’s a wild animal, and, along with every other woman there, you wish he would tear you apart with his canines. 

He descends the short staircase with a quick stomp of his boots, now making rounds through the crowd. He stops in front of tables at random, invading the space between strangers and collecting wrinkled one dollar bills.

Why does something so blatantly performative feel voyeurous?

All you can do is gawk, ignoring how every time another woman’s hand runs down his abdomen you heat with envy. As he turns away from the bridal party neighboring you, your blood turns ice cold.

Issei has you, unmistakably, in his sights. His eyes pin you, holding you down tightly in your chair as he struts forward. Tendou whistles loudly as the brunette approaches your table. You wonder, in your last moment of cognizance, if Saroti and Tooru had planned your evening in more detail that you originally thought.

“Long time no see, darlin’,” Issei stands over you, and all you can do is stare dumbly up at him, “do ya trust me?” 

You don’t answer, not with words, not like he would even hear your quiver over Big & Rich booming through the speakers. His question is stupid, to trust someone you just met so vaguely?

You do. Against any better judgement, you do. 

He doesn't give you the chance to ask what he means, stuck in the gooey feeling of his attention. Issei reaches behind you, picking up your half empty glass. He swirls the drink with an almost evil smile before bringing it up to his lips and draining the last bits of whiskey and coke. 

Your face reads confused, not putting his intentions together until you feel his thumb pressed against your chin. Issei’s eyebrow quirks, eyes trained on your reaction. You’re options are to shy away, turning back in your seat, running for escape in the bathroom, or--

The gloss on your mouth is sticky as your lips part in obedience. Issei tries to hide his elation, but it’s difficult to remain aloof as your tongue lulls out and your eyes beg him.

Issei’s hold on your chin tightens, nudging you to lean in so he’s only inches away. Your eyes shut lightly, the shouting surrounding you sounds little more than a whisper with the blood rushing in your ears.

You swear you can hear him groan above you as the sharp taste of liquor hits your tongue. Willing your body to cooperate, you swallow the drink with only a small cough. 

His face dips down, it seems like a habit now, to brush his promises against the shell of your ear once again.

“You’re an agreeable little thing, I think you can take it.”

His hands are on either side of your chair in a flash, lifting you up with trained, bulging muscles. You fall forward in your seat, bracing against Issei’s chest. Every cell in your body is tight with tension, if you lift your head up to meet the audience’s eyes, you’re sure you’ll crack like glass.

He steals you from relative comfort, shifting your weight in his arms as he ascends back onto stage. You’ve gone limp in his hold, pliant to his will. The unfamiliar presence at a dusty bar top has turned into more than a front row seat to depravity.

You’re thrown off balance as he sets you down, eyes adjusting to the white hot stage lights. You’re exposed to every set of eyes in the building, even if you can’t see him-- you know Satori is smiling from one sharp cheek to the other. Wherever Tooru is, he’s most likely sitting in the same satisfaction.

Aren’t you glad you came out tonight? I promise, you’re going to have a great time.

Issei rounds the back of your chair so his actions are hidden from your view. The brim of a leather cowboy hat breaches your field of vision, much too big for your head.

His hands come down onto your shoulders, snaking down your bare arms. His touch leaves a scorching fleet of chills. Issei runs his finger tips upwards, tracing against your collarbone before wrapping his grip lightly around your neck. 

He can feel it, he has to, the racing pulse right under the surface of your skin.

The music transitions effortlessly, going almost unnoticed. The next song, still sharp with a cheesy country twang, is slower, deeper.

Issei’s thumb brushes against your cheek, your body wants to relax into the touch before it remembers how public the gesture is.

You hold in a shaky breath as he comes to stand in your eyeline again, you might as well be bound to your chair with rope. He looks larger than life-- in both stature and presence-- in front of you. His skin is glistening, refracting from the harsh lights with sweat and oil. 

He is an unstoppable force against your will. Your desire to hide from the blinding attention is nothing compared to the desire to please. To please a stranger, to please the man you met only an hour ago. 

To please Issei.

He flashes you another wink, taking a moment to rake his stair down your body. He memorizes the outline of your cute little dress, red is definitely your color. 

Issei slides across the smooth surface of the stage to meet where you’re perched. The barreling, almost naked body now impossibly close to where your knees are pressed together.

He starts at your ankles, tracing the soft skin of your legs until his palms press flatly against your lower thigh. Issei savors the moment for a beat longer before prying your legs apart.

The crowd below you is loud and hollow in your ears, the shame bubbling up against your cheeks and nose is nothing compared to the pressure between your legs. 

Issei’s hands wander up and under the hem of your skirt, scratching his nails on the vulnerable skin before they find his prize in the form of thin lace.

The “Wait” and “Stop” sitting on your lips shrivels up and dies as your panties are ripped off. You see the bright color, the last remnants of opposition twirling around his pointer and middle finger.

The crowd goes wild, watching as your body is made a fantasy that they can all live vicariously by. all you can do is watch as the fabric is stuffed into the side of his thong to accompany fistfuls of singles.

* * *

You’re still in shock by the final dance, still under a trance as Tendou pulls you towards the back. Stumbling behind him to catch up, you’re given no time to think about what you’re about to walk into. 

A fog of smoke burns in your eyes. The room around you feels like it could curl in on itself, four walls marked sparsely with dusty furniture, the smell of weed and cash. 

You fix your gaze onto a long, diagonal tear in the leather couch across the must and g-strings, the rip in upholstery is stuffed with wrinkled one dollar bills. 

It feels like observing an exhibit at a museum, or a zoo. Lines of coke, random dustings of pot and discarded swisher tobacco, too many open handles of liquor. Sitting on an end table is a bright pink teddy bear with a cowboy hat on it’s head--

“I didn’t go too far did I?” Snapping back into reality, you hear Issei call to you. You’re vaguely comforted by a familiar voice before remembering the man attached had spat whiskey into your mouth and stolen your panties just 30 minutes prior. You heat up at the tips of your ears at the recollection of two things you had let him do, that you had wanted him to do. 

Your eyes find Issei sitting on the couch on the opposite end of your freshly showered roommate, seemingly unbothered as Tendou flops down against the middle cushion and drapes both arms across the back. 

“Don’t worry partner, our girl doesn’t startle easy.” Oikawa laughs, adjusting to sit across his boyfriend’s lap.  Issei’s all leather outfit is replaced with a pair of grey sweats. He looks relaxed, effortlessly handsome. 

What was it like, you wonder, before you knew how it felt to look at him? Life past the single night feels grey around the edges. 

When was the last time you felt this alive? 

He takes a sip of a water bottle, wiping off his chin with the large rose tattooed on his hand. You can’t stop staring at them-- the ones that roamed your body in front of a club full of drunk bachelorettes, the ones that traced your skin like he already had the map. 

And now you watch those same hands, so new but so inviting, as two fingers curl inward. They pull you as if tightening a rope around your waist. You wade past tall sweaty men and freshly caught audience members as they tangle across dusty furniture.

You scoot by your best friends from where they sit next to Issei, ignoring the slap to your ass and the following laugh from Oikawa in between loud, sloshing kisses.

“Well, little one,” He pats his thigh, inviting you to the spot on his lap rather than the empty seat next to him, “you’re not gonna run away are ya?” 

Every nerve in your body is twitching, you’re not sure if you could run if you wanted to.

You don’t.

Issei takes in your small nod of confirmation, pulling you into his hold. The position is awkward at first, perching on his knee as you try to keep your balance. He laughs, his arm snaking around your back so you relax into him. You fidget with your fingers as they lie against your lap, watching the bustling around you. A cloud of smoke settles in the air, you wonder if it’s a permanent haze of tobacco and pot-- the scent is probably painted into the walls. 

“Is this what you expected?” Issei’s voice is low and close to your ear, you can feel the smile curled into his question. Your eyes are fixed forward, watching as Tendou pours a small white line into Oikawa’s collarbone and dives in nose first.

“Honestly,” you adjust, kicking your legs up over his other knee, “I’m pretty used to this kind of stuff.”

Even if your usual scene doesn't include a drug filled almost-orgy, you can’t say you’re fazed much. Not with the company you keep.

Even with the circus revolving around you, Issei is the only thing you can see. Everything else falls away but the smell of his body wash and the soft material of his sweats where they meet your naked legs.

His hand rests against your thigh, fingers just above then short hem of your party dress. The metal rings on each digit are cool against your burning skin. You’re sure Issei can feel the heat rising in your stomach as it spreads through your blood. 

You feel him lean back, fishing something out of his pocket to set in your hands. You feel every hair stand on edge as the thin cotton drops into your grip, heavy as an anchor.

“You know what I think, darlin’?” Your breath hitches, the room around you squeezing tight against your shoulders, “I think you’re a natural on stage. I bet you would have let me do anything up there.” 

A hand wanders down the path of your spine, rough fingerprints stroke past each vertebrae. You arch at the feeling, his skin is like a narcotic. The liquor still swimming in your mind is no match to this, to the heady smell of sex and sweat as it cuts through your senses. 

Issei’s right, you’ll let him do anything to you. You’ll beg for it like you’re trying to pass the gates of heaven.

Your body moves of its own volition, legs swinging to straddle his waist. The material of your dress bunches over the curve of your ass, completely exposed to the room around you before being eclipsed by steady palms.

You would be, should be, embarrassed by the display of public depravity. No one around seems to notice, half naked is still more modest than most everyone else. Tendou and Oikawa have dissolved into a pile of spit and clashing teeth next to you, saving you from any snide quips. There’s nothing but Issei, face an inch away from you and lips tempting you to lean forward.

“Would it make you feel better if I told you I don’t usually do this?” 

Glassy eyes flick dumbly at the man below you. He sees the wobble of your lip, the glaze in your stare as you memorize every feature on his face. Any reassurance sitting on his tongue dies when you crash your lips against his, hips rolling down into him and knocking him off guard.

Your kiss is searing and drips with finality. You’ve decided what bed you’ll wake up in the morning with your tongue tracing against his molars.

“No, not really.” Foreheads pressed together, it’s your turn to laugh. If you’re honest, you probably made this decision while still sitting at the bar.

You dip back in, emboldened with the bruising fingers digging against the fat of your hips. The feeling of your cunt pressed against his crotch could bring a man to his knees.

He’s not opposed, he’s just gotta get you home first.

all writing is dymphnasprose’s original content, please do not repost or modify. do no read my content as asmr.©️

[izzyfandoms]

A Sleep So Sweet - Chapter One

(This is not the first chapter. There is a prologue, linked in the A Sleep So Sweet masterpost)

When Emile discovered he was the soulmate of the prince of a magical species known as Beings, he did not know how to react. Beings were terrifying, powerful creatures, who often did not care for humanity, and, in their first meeting, his soulmate, the sleep prince, seemed to be no different.  

Will Emile fall in love with his soulmate, or are they simply not meant to be?

SHIPS: Remile, Date (Janus x Nate)

WARNINGS: N/A

GENERAL TAGLIST: @quillfics42 @aj-draws @phantomofthesanderssides @phlying-squirrel @sly-is-my-name-loving-is-my-game @because-were-fam-ily @imtryingthisout @a-creepycookie @littlestr @spooky-scary-virgil @fuyel @mimsidoodles @soupgremlin @aroaceagenderfluid @birdsbookshiddeninrealbirdsskin @quirkalurk @gingers-trashy-stuff @iinyxtello @justaqueercactus @melodiread @mrbubbajones @pun-master-logan @gayturtlez @k1ngtok1 @yourneighborhooddisaster @alexxander-the-gay @full-of-roman-angst-trash @selfcarejanus

A SLEEP SO SWEET TAGLIST: @spellingwillbethedeathofme

Masterpost

A Sleep So Sweet Masterpost

Emile stared at the soulmark on his wrist, not daring to take his eyes off of it just in case it somehow disappeared. When it had appeared in the middle of the night – waking him up from his sleep – he had been shocked, of course, but he had also been tired, half-convinced it was only a dream.

But now he was completely awake, and the tiny crescent moon and stars were still there, like a small silver tattoo, but just a little bit shinier.

It didn’t even feel real, like he was still just dreaming. He ran his thumb over his wrist, like he was trying to smudge paint, but the soulmark didn’t even budge.

It finally hit him. This was real.

Oh, wow, he had a soulmate.

He had a soulmate!

Emile raised his hand to his mouth, finally letting out a delighted giggle.

“Oh my gosh,” he said to himself. “I have a soulmate!”

Wow. He needed to tell his dads.

He finally took his eyes off of his soulmark, looking around for his phone. He picked it up, turning it on and immediately opening the group chat he had with his two fathers: Nate and Janus Picani. They weren’t soulmates – soulmates were a rare thing, after all – but they were still deeply in love, and Emile had always hoped he’d get a love like that someday.

Now that he knew he had a soulmate, maybe that love wouldn’t be so far away.

Emile couldn’t help but let out another delighted laugh, almost bouncing up and down on the spot.

He began to type out a message to his dads.

Emile

Guess what!!!!

He then waited, his eyes flicking between his phone and his soulmark, checking that it hadn’t somehow disappeared in the last few seconds, which it had not, before he got a response from one of his dads: Nate.

Dad

What?

Emile

I got a soulmark!!!!

Nate immediately started typing again.

Dad

Woah really?

Emile

Yes!!!

Dad  

Hold on lemme grab your other dad

Emile waited, practically vibrating with excitement. He lowered his phone, taking another look at the soulmark on his wrist. It was shiny, almost reflecting the light, and he could not help but smile just taking a look at it.

It almost didn’t feel real, like he was having a very pleasant dream, but when he reached over and pinched a bit of skin below the soulmark, he definitely felt it. It was real.

He smiled.

Father

Congratulations!

Dad

Can we see the soulmark?

Emile opened the camera on his phone, taking a quick picture of his soulmark and sending it to his parents immediately.

He then waited for their responses, seeing that both of them had started typing. Then, they both stopped typing at about the same time, and Emile blinked at his phone.

Why had they stopped typing?

He waited, but they did not start typing again.

He blinked, confused, and began to type out another message.

Emile

Hello?

Then Janus started typing again.

Father

Have you seen the news?

Emile

What news?

Dad

The news about the being prince

Emile stared at his phone, wondering what on earth this had to do with his soulmark.

Beings were powerful creatures – abstract things come to life, like fear or memory – and the Being royalty were especially so. Humanity was lucky that Beings were rare and tended to avoid them, as they were dangerous and often did not care much for them.

They were rarely in the news – often ignored by humanity, as if ignoring them meant that their danger was lesser.

Emile

What news?

He waited, staring at his phone, before he received a link from Janus. He clicked on it, and saw that it was a news article, titled: Being prince has a soulmate?

Emile stared at the headline for a few seconds.

How was that relevant to his own soulmark?

A pit began to form inside of Emile’s stomach, but he pushed down the immediate uncomfortable feelings.

No. This was just a coincidence. So many people had soulmates, though they rarely had Beings for soulmates.  

This was just a coincidence.

He scrolled through the article, skimming over the information.

The Being prince – a magical being: sleep come to life – had found a soulmark on his body. This meant that he had a human soulmate, and he wanted to find them. He had made the announcement public, in the hopes that he would find his soulmate as quickly as possible.

Emile scrolled all the way to the bottom, and his heart stopped when he saw the image at the end of the article.

It was a single image of an eye – pitch black and surrounded by silver skin, with black hair peeking out from the top of the picture – and right in the centre of it was the now-familiar crescent moon and three stars.

Emile gasped, and his phone slipped out of his hand, clattering to the floor.

He almost wanted to swear, but he bit his tongue before he could.  

This couldn’t be real. Now he was certain that he must have been dreaming. This... this was impossible.

His soulmate wasn’t a Being. They couldn’t be.

Immediately, there was a pang of guilt inside of Emile.

Beings might have been powerful, terrifying creatures, but who was Emile to judge them? Sure, some of them hurt people, but most of them never did, as far as Emile knew. Who was he to decide that all of them must be cruel and evil and dangerous?

If the universe had decided that a Being was his soulmate, then that Being, at the very least, had to be a good person.

Well, perhaps person was the wrong word, but they had to be good. The universe wouldn’t have paired him up with someone bad. They were meant to be!

Okay. Emile’s soulmate was a Being – a prince of Beings – and that was... not bad. Maybe it was even good! Maybe his soulmate was wonderful – the soulmate of his dreams! Maybe they would be perfect together.

No, not maybe, definitely. His soulmate was his soulmate. They had to be perfect.

Emile nodded to himself. Okay. This wasn’t bad. This was good! He didn’t need to continue his quest for true love: it was being given to him, right in the palm of his hand.

He took a deep breath, and then bent down and picked his phone back up.

He checked his group chat with his dads.

Dad

Thats your soulmark right?

Father

Are you alright?

Emile wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Was he alright?  

He was excited about having a soulmate. He was terrified that his soulmate would be terrifying and cruel. He was guilty that that was the assumption he’d made about his soulmate. He was just conflicted.

He thought about it for a moment, but before he could respond, his phone lit up with an incoming call from Janus. He blinked, before he answered the call and lifted it to his ear.

“Hello?”  

“Did you read the article?” came Janus’s voice from through the phone.

Emile paused. “Yes.”

There was another pause, before he heard his other dad’s voice through the phone.

“Is that your soulmark?”

“I think so.”

“Okay,” Nate said, his voice calm despite what was going on. “How do you feel about that?”

“I... don’t know.”

“Okay, that makes sense,” Nate said.

“You don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to,” Janus said seriously. “You don’t even have to meet him if you don’t want to.”

“I know,” Emile said. “But...”

“But?” Nate prompted.

“I don’t know. I mean- I mean he’s my soulmate, right? I know Beings are... scary. But... he’s my soulmate.”

“He’s a Being,” Janus said.

Nate sighed. “Jan.”

Emile frowned. “I mean, I know, but... he’s my soulmate. He can’t... he won’t be bad.” He took a deep breath. “I mean, how much do we really know about Beings? I know the stories, but they can’t all be bad! My soulmate... he could be good.”

“He is your soulmate,” Nate said. “And you’re the kindest person I know. I doubt you’d be saddled with a shitty soulmate.”

“Still, if he is bad, we need to keep him as far away from you as possible,” Janus said.

"I appreciate it, but I’m an adult now, dads,” Emile said. “I can take care of myself.”

Janus hummed like he wasn’t sure whether or not he believed him. Nate let out a laugh, and Emile heard a sound that sounded like he was clapping Janus on the shoulder.

“He’s right, babe. He’s an adult. We can’t protect him anymore,” he said. Emile could practically hear the amused smile on his face. “Just make sure to introduce your soulmate to us once you meet him. I just can’t promise that Jan won’t go all overprotective father on him.”

He laughed, and Emile laughed, too.

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” he said.

In his mind, he imagined what it would be like to introduce his soulmate to his fathers. Hopefully it would go well. Hopefully his soulmate would get along well with his parents.

Would his soulmate be polite and serious? Or would he be funny and entertaining? Would they get along well? Emile certainly hoped so.

But maybe he was getting a little ahead of himself. First, he actually had to meet his soulmate.

Emile paused. How was he even going to do that?

“Gosh, how am I even going to meet him?” Emile said aloud.

Nate hummed in thought.

“I don’t know. Get yourself in the news?”

Emile’s nose wrinkled. “I would rather not.”

“Uh...” Nate said. “I have no idea then. But I know you’ll figure it out!”

Emile smiled. “Thanks, dad.”

“I need to get to work,” Janus said. “Let us know how finding your soulmate goes.”

“I will.”

“Love you!” Nate said.

“I also love you,” Janus said

Emile smiled again. “I love you both, too. Bye!”

“Bye!”

“Goodbye.”

Then, they hung up, and Emile was alone again.

His gaze was immediately drawn back to his soulmark. His eyes traced the curving shape of the crescent moon, and the three small stars that were underneath it.

The sleep prince was somewhere out there with that exact same soulmark just on his eye instead of his wrist. Emile wondered what he was thinking about in that exact moment. Was he thinking about Emile, like how Emile was thinking about him?

Emile could not help but smile at the thought.

Gosh, he couldn’t wait to meet his soulmate.

But first, he had to find out how to.

***

Emile had been on his computer for ages, searching for a way to find his soulmate, but the internet was mostly unhelpful.

There was a ton of research done on Beings, but it was difficult to tell what was reliable and what was useless. Beings were such a wide variety of creatures – some appeared out of thin air, some were once other things – research about one was unlike research about another. And most of the research was about what they were and how they worked, not about how to find them.

Emile sighed, reaching up and massaging the bridge of his nose. This was impossible: it was starting to seem like the only way to find his soulmate was to go through the same methods his soulmate had used to get the information public. And he really, really didn’t want it to come to that.

He was lucky that it was his day off today, so he had plenty of time to research.

Emile clicked on a new article, one labelled ‘Whispering Beings’, that he wasn’t too hopeful would actually be helpful. But he was still going to look, just in case.

His eyes skimmed the first few lines. Whispering Beings were a type of Being that could hear every whisper ever spoken. In fact, they existed in whispers; sometimes they didn’t even have a physical form, they switched between a human-like body to a whisper taken form at a whim. They could be summoned through whispers and used to send messages. Their physical forms looked cloud-like, not entirely physical and they were often benevolent towards humans.

Wait.

Emile suddenly straightened up, his eyes going back a few lines.

They could be summoned through whispers and used to send messages.

There. That was it.

That was how he was going to find his soulmate!

Emile let out a laugh. Finally, he was going to be able to find his soulmate!

Okay. Okay. Now, he just needed to figure out how to summon a Whispering Being.  

His eyes returned to the article.

Whispering Beings could be summoned through whispers. Apparently, you could whisper something into the night sky, and – very occasionally – they would hear you. They would appear in front of you, and they would take your message and bring it to whoever you requested.  

But they were rare. Your message needed to be interesting to them, or they would simply ignore you.

Well, Emile thought that his message was interesting enough. He was the soulmate of one of the princes of beings, surely that would catch the attention of anyone.

Okay. He could do that.

All he had to do was wait for it to become night, and then he would whisper into the sky. He would get his message to his soulmate; he was sure of that.

***

Emile had been waiting impatiently all day for night to come, and when it finally did, he was practically vibrating with anticipation. He couldn’t sit still, tapping his foot against the floor and his hand against his leg.

Was now the right time to do it? The sun had set, the sky was black, but what if he needed to wait until midnight? The article had been unclear, and every other source he had found had been, too.

What if it needed to be at a specific time? Midnight or 1am or 2am, something like that? Emile had no idea. He didn’t want to do it wrong.

After a moment of thought, he stood up. Okay, he might as well try now. If it didn’t work, he could always try again later. He could try as many times as it took for it to work. He would try all night if he had to.

He walked over to his window, opening it and feeling the cool night air wash over him.  

The sky was black, speckled with stars, and the moon was full. Maybe that meant something. Maybe the full moon was something special and would mean that the Whispering Beings were more likely to hear him. Emile had no idea. He was really out of his depth here.

He was a simple therapist! He watched cartoons and documentaries for fun. He knew nothing about magic, and yet the universe had dropped a magical soulmate into his hands.  

This was his life now.

Emile took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment. He could do this.

Then, he opened his eyes. Okay, he could do this.

All he had to do was figure out what exactly to say. His brow creased in thought. What did he even say in this situation? What was the right thing to say to summon a Whispering Being? The article hadn’t exactly given instructions on how to summon one.

Well, apparently Whispering Beings heard every whisper, so maybe all he had to do was say who he was and they’d listen.

Okay. He’d give that a try.

He took another deep breath, before he began to whisper.

“My name is Emile Picani, and I’m the soulmate of the sleep prince,” he whispered into the wind. “I want to find him. Can you help me?”

He then waited. He waited and waited and waited, but nothing happened.

Okay. That was okay. He could just try again.

“My name is Emile Picani, and I’m the soulmate of the sleep prince,” he whispered again. “I want to find him. Can you help me?”

“I heard you the first time,” came a voice from behind him. It sounded like a whisper, but was somehow also loud and clear.

Emile jumped, spinning around so quickly that his glasses fell from his face.

Standing there, in the middle of his living room, was a blurry figure, that Emile couldn’t quite make out the details of him without his glasses. All he could tell was that it was white and vaguely human-shaped.

He bent down quickly, picking up his glasses and sliding them back onto his face. He stood up, and saw that the human-shaped figure was almost as blurry as they had been before he had put his glasses back on. They looked like someone had taken a cloud and pressed a man-shaped cookie cutter into them, but the clouds had seeped through the edges a little bit. They didn’t even have eyes or a mouth, despite the fact that words had come from somewhere.

“H- hello,” Emile blurted out, just a little bit terrified of the obviously-inhuman Being.

“Hello,” said the Whispering Being.

“What... what’s your name?”

The Whispering Being just stared at him for a few seconds.

“Beings don’t have names.”

“Oh. Right.”

There were a few seconds of silence.

“So, you're the prince’s soulmate?” The Whispering Being said.

Emile straightened up. “I... think so. The soulmarks match, so... yes.”

The Whispering Being tilted their head.

“Would you like me to bring a message to him?”

“Yes, please.”

“Alright.” The Whispering Being nodded. “I shall. What would you like me to say?”

Emile... hadn’t really thought about that. In his excitement to send a message to his soulmate – and his daydreams about what would happen when they first met – he hadn’t thought about exactly what he wanted to say.  

“Um...” Emile said, fidgeting with his hands. “Tell him... tell him about me and tell me that I want to meet him.”  

The Whispering Being watched him for a few moments, before they nodded.

“Alright. I shall do that. Is there anything else you need?”

Emile thought about it for a moment, before he shook his head.

“Thank you,” he said.

The Whispering Being nodded again. Then, they began to lose their form, becoming more cloud-like and less human-shaped, until the fog that was their body began to fade. They became translucent and then transparent and soon they were gone, and Emile was alone.

He stared at the spot they had been for a few seconds, before he let out a deep breath.

Okay. This Being was going to bring the message to his soulmate. Then, his soulmate would come and they would meet.

Emile could not help but smile just a little bit at the thought. Oh, gosh, he was going to meet his soulmate soon! He didn’t know exactly when, but if his soulmate had been so quick to put the soulmark in the news, then surely he wanted to meet Emile as much as Emile wanted to meet him.

They were going to meet each other for the first time soon.  

Emile let out a little laugh, and practically bounced up and down on the spot, doing an excited little wiggle. He clapped his hands together.

Oh, Emile was so, so excited.

He wondered what exactly would happen next. Would the prince send the Whispering Being back to Emile, with information about a meeting place? Yes, that made the most sense.

But when exactly would the Whispering Being return? Emile had no idea. Maybe they would return again tonight; maybe they were busy and wouldn’t return for another few days. There was no way to know.

Perhaps he should have asked.  

Emile shook his head. Well, there was no point in thinking about that now.

A cool wind came through the open window, and a shiver ran down Emile’s spine. He turned around, reaching out and shutting the window.  

Then, when he turned back around, he yelped and leapt backwards when he saw that there was a new figure standing in the centre of his living room.

He was tall and thin – quite a bit taller than Emile, though that wasn’t difficult – with silver skin, black hair and solid black eyes. In the centre of his left eye was the now-familiar symbol: a silver crescent moon with three stars underneath it.

Emile gasped.

“You’re-”

The Being smiled, crossing his arms.

“I am,” he said. “Hello.”

[writings-of-a-british-fangirl]

A Lesson In Traditions [Din Djarin x Reader]

Title: A Lesson In Traditions Summary: After the brief spark, you felt between you and Din, you are longing for it to be recreated. And, maybe a shiny trinket from Mandalorian tradition can help you with that. Warnings: None I don't think ? Request: N/A

A/N: Some of you wanted a part two to A Lesson In Mando'a so here's the follow up! I might make this a series if anyone is interested

A/N 2: I made up the idea of betrothal necklaces. I don't think these exist in Mandalorian culture, but I took inspiration from water benders in Avatar the Last Airbender, because I thought the idea was cute! So credit to that series!

PART 1: A Lesson In Mando’a PART 2: A Lesson In Traditions PART 3: A Lesson In Touch

Din Djarin~A Lesson In Traditions

It had been a while since Din had told you what cyar'ika had meant, and ever since then the two of you had been dancing around each other. Surely, he knew you liked him by now- you had tried to hint at him several times: lingering touches, longer conversations, closeness to him. And, yet the Mandalorian remained oblivious. You supposed that no matter the species or creed, men were all as dense as each other.

        You huffed as you held the child on your lap.

        "I don't know what I'm going to do, little one," you murmured, "I think I'm having more luck communicating with you, than I am with your dad. ...Maybe I should just give up. He has his creed to follow anyway..."

        The child looked at you, his head slightly tilted. His big eyes stared up at you. Despite not saying anything at all, you knew he was understanding you. He was a pretty great listener, even if he was only a youngling.

        "You know, you're right. Maybe I- maybe we just need a day out. Some fresh air. What do you think? Do you want to take a little trip? We need some more supplies anyway, I'm getting sick of rations, and I'd like some fresh food. What about you?"

        The child perked up at the mention of food, and you smiled.

        "I'll take that as a yes," you giggled, "Let me go speak to your daddy."

        You placed the child gently down in his bed, and made your way up to the cockpit, where Din was flying the ship. Your head peeked up from the ladder, and you clambered up and stood awkwardly for a second at the back of the room. Din heard you enter, and waited for you to speak. He turned his head ever so slightly, his beskar glinting from the faint light the stars around the ship were producing.

        "Hi," you murmured, wandering over to where Din was sitting, "How far away are we from the next stop?"

        "About an hour," Din replied, "Why do you ask?"

        You fold your hands neatly in front of you, you shift your weight slightly forward, and almost rock on the balls of your feet.

        "Well, I was thinking that I- well, us... You, me and the kid could take a trip to the local market on our next stop. It's just we need more food anyways, and I'm going a bit stir crazy. It'll do us some good to get some fresh air, especially the kid. He can't spend his whole life in this ship."

        Din contemplates for a second.

        "I know what you're going to say- It's dangerous, we're being hunted but-"

        "-I was actually going to say okay."

        "Really? I mean, great. Thank you!"

        Din smiles under his helmet, not that you can tell, and continues, "As you said, we need food anyway, and the next planet we're going to land on is remote enough. It's definitely not Imp friendly either."

        You nod, and flash Din a smile. The tension slowly builds in the room; you can feel his eyes on you. Despite not being able to see his eyes (hell, you didn't even know what colour they were), you could sense them: trained on you. You coughed awkwardly.

        "I'm going to go check on the kid. Uh- Give me a shout when we're about to land."

        "I will, cyar'ika."

        Your heart jumps at the nickname.

~~~

As soon as you landed, you grabbed your bag, your gun and a set of knives. Despite not technically being employed by any bounty hunting guilds right now, it never hurt to be prepared: especially when the small green creature you were travelling with had such a high price on his head. And, then you turned to Din. He was also carrying his fair share of weapons, and of course the child. He was situated in Din's bag, his cute little face peaking out over the top. You smiled at him, before beginning to walk down the ramp.

        The Mandalorian made his way into the town, with you by his side, and his small son literally at his side. He didn't feel uneasy about this place- it looked relatively safe, but he was still on high alert. And, he wanted you to be as well.

        Despite having only known you a couple of months, he didn't dare think about the possibility of something happening to you. He knew he had to protect the child, that was a given, but the growing affection he had for you was uncharted. As a boy, he had learned about Mandalorians caring for foundlings (just as they had done with him as a boy), but romantic relationships were something out of his reach. He knew they occurred; they had to. The Mandalorians, while being a creed of highly trained soldiers, still held family at their core. After all, how were they to make more warriors without romantic relationships. But, truthfully, they were something unfamiliar to him. It had never been possible in his life, not with the creed. With you, his thoughts had begun to wander more and more lately. About you being next to him, being his family. He knew Mandalorians were allowed to take their helmets off for family, for those in their Clan. The more time you spent with him, the more he considered you to be apart of his Clan... He shook himself slightly. 'Stop,' he thought, 'You shouldn't have this on your mind. Y/N doesn't think of you that way. They're here for the child. That's it.'

        If only Din knew how far from the truth that was.

        "I need you to take him," Din says to you, carefully taking the child from his bag and handing him to you, "I'm going to go into the cantina, and see if I can find me- us some work. I trust you can manage to get us some supplies?"

        "You insult me, my love," you laugh, holding the child in your arms, "I am more than capable. I hope you save me at least one good bounty. I can't let you have all the fun."

        "I'll keep an eye out. Meet me here in half an hour."

        "Will do, my love," you smile and walk away from him.

        Din was glad for the distance being put between the two of you, because he was sure if you were any closer to him, you would be able to hear his heart racing behind his beskar. 'My love,' he pondered. He quite liked the way that sounded rolling off your tongue, perhaps even more than he liked hearing you say his own name. He gave one last look over his shoulder, just to make sure you were okay, before heading into the cantina.

~~~

You'd successfully made it to the market, and had made your way around over half of the stalls, and you had basically bought all the food for you and your Mandalorian. As you continued walking through the market, most of the stalls you passed by were food, but some were trinkets, toys, and even weapons. You'd hesitated by one particular booth. They were selling crystals, luxury cloth, and jewellery. Usually, you weren't one for such fine things (in your life style, things like that would end up ruined, stolen or pawned), but you'd been drawn in by one particular necklace. The chain was made up of two types of metal from what you could tell: a shinning silver, and a deep, darker grey. Attached to the chain was an unfamiliar symbol. It curved into a symmetrical shape, one that looked like two halves of a whole.

        "That's real beskar, you know," the seller assured, "It would look beautiful sitting around your neck."

        The seller was an older woman. She wore blue and purple robes, dirtied only a little by the sand- no doubt from the extensive sand desert that lay just outside the town. She had a kind face, her eyes smiling up at you. You'd almost forgotten to reply.

        "What do you say? Can I interest you in such a fine, unique piece?"

        "Oh, I'm not sure-"

        "-I'm sure your husband would like it: it would match his own armour after all," the lady added, taking the necklace off of its stand and presenting it to you.

        "Oh, he's not- He's not my husband. We're just travel companions, that's all."

        "Someone should tell him that. The way he looks at you... Only few people are so lucky. Looks at you like you hung the stars in the sky."

        "How do you know that? His helmet-"

        "-There's some things you just know with age, dearie. Love is one of them."

        You were rendered speechless. Did he really look at you like that? Was is that obvious? Did his heart beat for yours the way yours beats for his? You hardly had time to process the thought of you and Din together that close, as spouses, before the seller spoke again.

        "So what do you say? Can I tempt you with this necklace? I can even throw in a free toy for the little one," she smiled, cooing to the child from across the table.

        You looked at the seller, and then down to him.

        "What do you say, little guy? Do you want a new toy?" you murmured to him; when you saw his eyes gleam with excitement, you knew it was all over.

        "I think he said yes," the merchant laughs.

        "I think you're right," you reply, reaching into your bag for your purse, "I usually wouldn't spend credits on a thing like this... But, it is quite beautiful. And, you do deserve a new toy."

        You handed the lady her credits, and took the necklace from her. She'd placed it into a small, black, velvet box. The box had small silver hinges and a clasp at the front. You felt a little giddy. It had been a while since you'd made such an unessential purchase, and there was a small part of you that hoped if you wore this you might get the attention of a certain masked warrior. You shook your head, granted it was a little desperate, but you figured worth a shot.

        The child also received his gift too. It was a small figurine of an animal. You weren't quite sure which one, but he seemed to like it, and that was good enough for you.

        You slipped the velvet box into your bag, and caught a glimpse of your watch. Fuck, you were late. You jostled the child closer to your chest and began to almost sprint back to the cantina: you did not want to have to deal with a grumpy Mandalorian, least of all if you were the cause of his grumpiness. The closer you got, the easier it was to make out his figure.

        "Look, before you say anything, I'm sorry I'm late. Time must have slipped my mind, and I ran into a strange lady at one of the stalls, and she sold me this- You know what, you probably don't need to know all that. Just know we've got enough food to last us at least a month, and the child had fun."

        "He has a new toy."

        "I- Yeah," you replied, "Not exactly an essential, I know, but don't worry I used my credits. Besides, it'll hopefully stop him wrecking your cockpit for a toy."

        Din nodded. You don't know why you expected him to say more. He wasn't a man of many words, and you were apparently no exception. You made your way back to the ship with the Mandalorian in silence. It wasn't unpleasant by any means, but also it felt like you both had lots to say: you just didn't know how to say it.

        "Did you buy anything for yourself?" Din asked, looking over to you as you reached the ship.

        How did he know?

        Din obviously sensed your confusion.

        "I- You said that a lady sold you something, that's all," Din clarified.

        "Oooh, oh that," you said, looking down at your bag, "Yeah, I did. A bit of an impulse buy if I'm honest, but the lady was too nice to deny. She sold me a necklace. Maybe you can help me put it on."

        Din nodded; that should be easy. It was just a necklace after all. He'd fought off enemies twice his size, survived when the odds were against him, and was one of the best bounty hunters there was... It should be easy. So why was his heart racing?

        You placed the child down on the floor of the Razor Crest, and reached inside your bag for the box. Your hands traced the inside of your bag blindly, before feelings the soft touch of velvet. Carefully, you took it out of the bag, and revealed the box. Din's eyes watched with intrigue. You unfastened the clasp and opened the box. It snapped back on its hinges, and revealed the chain.

        Din's eyes registered the metal before his brain could even process it: a betrothal necklace.

        "The lady said it was genuine beskar, but I'm not so sure. I think it's just silver, probably some iron too- but it's pretty either way. Do you mind helping me put it on still?"

        Din's mind was still racing. He'd heard about the tradition of giving a betrothal necklace from urban tales and word of mouth from other Mandalorians, but he'd never actually seen one this close. The tradition stated that the Mandalorian proposing would take part of their beskar and part of their riduur-to-be's beskar and melt them into a necklace, with the two swirling around each other before eventually combining into a symbol at the bottom. Usually it was a good luck symbol, or for fertility. Something along those lines. It felt almost surreal seeing one close up.

        "Are you alright, Din?" you ask, "Is something up?"

       He wasn't sure if he should mention the tradition, what the necklace meant to the Mandalorians... It was basically a dead tradition now, anyway. There was no harm in not telling you, right? After all, there were very few Mandalorians left, and even fewer that managed to have the privilege of finding a riduur: you didn't need to know..

        "No, no... I'm fine," he reassures, "I- Hand me the necklace."

        Din took the necklace from you and instructed you to hold your hair out of the way. You obliged, and felt him lace the necklace around your neck before fastening it in the back. There was a small pause, where the two of you just stayed there: in the moment. It took everything in you not to shiver as you felt a rush down your spine. The sensation of Din's hands on you, even just for a moment, was almost too much. You turned around to face him.

        "Do you like it?" you ask, holding the pendant of your new necklace between your thumb and your index finger.

        "It suits you," he affirmed, "Mesh'la."

       "Thank you," you blushed, making a mental note to ask what 'Mesh'la' meant at a later date, "I- I'm going to go put the food supplies away."

       Din decided against telling you about the origin of your neckalce; you looked far too radiant wearing it for him to say anything that may shift the tone. He couldn't bring himself to say anything, so he just let you walk past him. Part of him felt guilty for not saying anything, but another part of him selfishly thought it looked beautiful sat around your neck. For a moment he could almost imagine that he had given you that..

       ...That you were his riduur.

[holykillercake]

Love Ordeal

SANJI X f!READER

word count: 2k

summary: The Strawhts decide to play Secret Davy Treasure and Sanji doens´t stop asking whom you got. 

highlight:  ¨Sanji,¨ you sighed ¨I love you, but if you don´t stop, I will be forced to throw your cigarettes in the ocean and straighten your eyebrows.¨

warning: F.L.U.F.F.

notes: Guys! This a part 2/3 of a request for a fluff where they have a s/o that made them a thing with crochet and how they would react. Also, Secret Davy Treasure is like Secret Santa, but you know. ALSO, there is a surprise at the end! 

𝕷𝖊𝖆𝖛𝖊 𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖘, 𝖗𝖊𝖖𝖚𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖘, 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊!

¨Just pick one, Luffy!¨

¨But which one?¨

¨It doesn´t matter!¨

¨Hmm, can I pick two?¨

¨NO!¨

Earlier that day, an old lady told Nami that whichever path Luffy chose would always lead to another Winter Island. So with the end of the year approaching and the cold weather, you decided to play Secret Davy Treasure, a great South Blue tradition.

It consisted of the participants writing their names on a piece of paper, mixing them in a bowl - or Luffy's hat - and drawing them.  Whoever’s name you picked is who you will buy or make a Secret Davy Treasure.

You should have guessed that even something that sounded so simple would be complicated in the Thousand Sunny. The crew didn´t seem to understand nor follow the rules of physics, reality, and the game. 

At first, Zoro folded his paper with his name on the outside; then Brook picked himself and didn´t tell anyone. Now you were struggling with Luffy, who couldn´t pick one because A) he wanted to know what was written inside, and B) he wanted to pick more than one. 

While Franky, Usopp, and Chopper yelled at him, trying to make him understand, Brook laughed at the whole situation, and the rest of you wished to die and get reborn as clams. 

Sanji adjusted the blanket around your bodies and hugged you tighter, chatting until the commotion was over.  

¨Will you tell me?¨ he blew some smoke, and you tilted your head to look at him. 

¨Tell what?¨

¨Who you got.¨

¨What? Of course no!¨ you laughed ¨This is not how you play it!¨

¨But we are a couple, Y/N-chan!¨

¨.., and?¨ you sang the word.

¨We shouldn't keep secrets from each other!¨

A cloud of white smoke came out of your mouth when you giggled before snuggling deeper in his arms. 

¨Okaay,¨ Usopp crawled closer to you, defeated and holding Luffy´s hat ¨he will be the last one.¨

Despite your captain yelling that he should be the first to pick, you were all getting tired and opted to ignore him. 

¨Thanks!¨ you used the blanket to cover yourself as you unfolded it.

A chuckle left your mouth when you saw the name written, and the blonde behind you tried to peek over your shoulder. But you were faster to put the piece of paper with the name of your boyfriend inside your bra.

You turned and gave him a peck on the cheek while he pouted. 

You would have one week to come up with a Davy Treasure for Sanji, and you knew exactly what to do, but some butterflies still flew in your belly, wondering if he would like it. 

As a matter of fact, he loved everything you did, from sweet love to extremely salty culinary disasters. He would find perfection in every little thing done by you.

Enjoying your last days on the island of Snow Globe Pole - yeah, almost as bad as ¨Long Ring Long Land¨ - you decided to tour the city, looking for what you needed to make your gift. Or rather, to crochet your gift.

That was the easy part, for you were on a winter island, yarn and wool were pretty abundant. Every style possible of every possible color, anything that crossed your mind was available in the store. It would have been distracting if you didn´t have the colors already chosen. 

But again, so much for an innocent game. So much for a bit of fun. So naive to believe that Sanji would stop asking you whom you picked. 

In his defense, he had gotten calmer during the first night. But after seeing the bag you brought from the store, he became even more annoying. 

Charming, loving, but still annoying. 

¨It´s not Franky, right? His hands wouldn´t fit in it.¨

¨His regular-sized-robotic-mannequin hands would.¨ you looked at him with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. 

You could almost see the gasp stuck in his throat and his heart skipping a beat. 

After that, he kept bringing you desserts, offering massages, and doing everything in his power to bribe you. Skypiea Sanji was not the real Love Ordeal. Secret Davy Treasure Sanji was the real Love Ordeal. 

¨Sanji,¨ you sighed ¨I love you, but if you don´t stop, I will be forced to throw your cigarettes in the ocean and straighten your eyebrows.¨

He grumbled ¨I love you¨ back among some other things and marched to the kitchen with flames on the top of his head. You chuckled and went back to your colorful wools. 

Before you chose his gift, you thought about Sanji and the things that he liked or needed. From cooking to smoking and women. 

Cooking for him would be outrageous. You wanted to give him something amazing, and you couldn't compare to him in the kitchen. At all.

Women. You were the only woman he wanted and needed, and honestly, you were the woman for the job. 

Now, smoking. You would not buy or make him cigarettes, obviously. But he had this adorable and clumsy thing of always burning the tips of his mittens whenever he lit a cigarette. 

Because of that, you decided to crochet him one of those fingerless gloves that come with a mitten flap so he could cover his fingers once he was done. Like that, he would be warm and natural disaster-free. 

¨There is orange, Y/N-chan! You got Nami, right?!¨ you jumped and almost stabbed yourself with the hook when he yelled in your ear.

¨Oh, my sweet Davy Jones, give me strength...¨ you whispered ¨There is also purple, Sanji-kun. It could be Brook or Robin.¨ 

He pondered over it a little, frowned, and made his way to the door.

¨Hey!¨ he turned with sad puppy eyes ¨Is this really important to you? To know who I got?¨ he nodded. 

You gestured with your head, telling him to come closer. A big and bright smile appeared on his face, and your heart beat stronger. That smile, you would punch the Red Line broken to create another All Blue for that smile. 

Oh, how you love this cook. 

¨Ok! Just because I am asking I´ll tell you first, ok?¨ he spoke with a lower voice but still sparkly. You smiled and nodded. ¨I got Chopper! And I bought him a new backpack with a lot of compartments for his medical stuff.¨

The way he paid attention to the tiny details made you melt. He was always taking care of others, complimenting the crew - except Zoro - and celebrating even the smallest of the successes. 

He showed you the blue backpack, very similar to Chopper´s current one, but a lot stronger, prettier, and more practical. He would love it, no doubts. 

¨Well,¨ you began ¨I got... Usopp.¨ 

You felt terrible about telling him a lie, but you couldn´t spoil your surprise.

 ¨Since we´re going to winter islands, I don´t want his finger to get tangled when, Uhm... he´s picking his Ketchup Stars, Green Stars, or Let´s-scare-creepy-girls-to-death Stars. I really hope he likes it.¨

If you were not paying enough attention, you would have missed Sanji´s disappointed look, which he quickly hid with a kind smile. 

¨You always think about everything, Y/N-chan. He will love it.¨ he kissed your forehead and went back to the kitchen. 

You waited until he closed the door to cringe ¨You are going to hell, Y/N.¨ 

Finally, the Secret Davy Treasure day arrived. You would exchange gifts and then have a nice dinner if Luffy didn´t make a party out of it. He definitely would. 

But you were also grateful that today was the day. Since you told Sanji that you had picked Usopp, he has been acting a little upset. The other guys didn´t notice, but you did. 

You would always notice. And you had an idea why. 

The gift exchanging rules were pretty simple.  The Secret Davy had to offer information about the person receiving the treasure, and the others had to guess. 

It started with Usopp, whose Secret Davy was Franky. He gave him a bunch of super tools and some colored light bulbs for the ¨Party Nipple¨ idea.

Franky´s Secret Davy was Robin. He gave her a journal with waterproof pages he created. 

Robin´s Secret Davy was you, and she presented you with a beautiful copy of a fictional adventure book since you were always reading them on the ship.

Then it was your turn. You held the gift wrapped in a shiny blue paper and began to describe your Secret Davy. 

¨My Secret Davy is... slightly annoying sometimes.¨

¨It´s the stupid-eyebrow.¨ Zoro said.

¨Shut up, marimo head!¨

You continued after Nami punched them. ¨My Secret Davy always takes care of us.¨ 

¨It´s Chopper!¨ you shook your head.

¨Hmm... my Secret Davy is an exceptional fighter! Really strong!¨ 

¨It´s me!¨ 

¨No, Zoro! It´s me! I will become the Pirate King!¨ 

¨Shut up, you two!¨

¨My Secret Davy is...¨ you looked at Sanji and smiled ¨... loving and caring.¨ 

He looked back at you, confused.  Why would you say those about Usopp? Not that he wasn´t loving and caring, but... still. 

¨My Secret Davy is... the man of my dreams, the prince of my fairy tale, and the love of my life.¨

A minute or two passed while everyone waited for Sanji to say something, but he remained frozen with a perplexed expression. 

¨Sanji-san, I think the treasure is yours.¨ Brook said calmy. 

The cook made his way to you slowly, taking the gift from your hands and opening it gently, without tearing the wrapping.  

Did he get upset because of your lie? 

¨Sanji...¨ you called him, but he kept staring at the gloves. 

You saw his eyes fill with water before he excused himself and exited the deck, leaving everyone staring at you. 

¨I don´t... I´m gonna...¨ you pointed and left too. 

When you entered your room, he was standing, back turned to you. Was he really crying, or you saw things?

¨Sanji-kun?¨

¨You remembered...¨ he turned around, still holding the mittens ¨These colors...¨ 

¨Yeah, they don´t really match, but...¨

¨I wanted it so much, Y/N. When I saw it, I wanted it so much.¨

He rushed in your direction and hugged you tight. He hugged you and you felt all his emotions, you felt the weight he carried in his heart. Not a bad weight, just the weight of missing someone you love. 

You knew that that was the reason he was pestering you so much, the colors. You had chosen the colors that Zeff, Sanji´s mentor, wore. 

The fingers were orange and purple, like his striped shirt. You added yellow details of his hair; the blue of his ascot, and the white of his apron. 

As you said, they didn´t match, but apparently, Sanji didn´t care.

He would always share stories about their lives and cook recipes that Zeff taught him. Despite him always calling him old man or damn geezer, the Red Leg was his father.

¨Thank you, Y/N-chan. I loved it.¨

The sound of him sniffing made you hold him stronger. 

¨I miss that damn geezer.¨ 

¨I´m sure he misses you too, Little Eggplant.¨ 

¨Oi!¨

You squeaked and laughed when he threw on the bed.

¨I´ll show you Little Eggplant!¨

Hey, Guys! SURPRISE! Here´s my first decent art? hahaha THE MITTENS!

I don´t know if the quality dropped. I´m using krita and still don´t know how to adjust the settings stuff when I´m saving a jpeg. Anyway, I hope you liked it!

[katyamorrigan]

‘A Hotel on the Board is Worth Two on the Geldstraat’ - Chp. 1!

Gang banner by @verdiris​

A Hotel on the Board is Worth Two on the Geldstraat

A trunk of contraband items ends up in the hands of the Crows, but the item that piques their curiosity most is the large box labelled “MONOPOLY”. Kaz is out of the Slat for the time being, so of course they decide to play it. Was there ever a mission more likely to fail than six criminals with lethal skills and undeniable emotional ties all trying to build a make-believe empire without killing each other in the process? Answer: yes - all of the above while attempting to pull off a heist at the same time.

Turns out board games weren’t the only interesting items shipped into Fifth Harbour that afternoon, and now the Razorgulls are interested. It will take all of the gang’s effort to break into two buildings full of rival gang members, regain possession of the contraband, and make it back to the Slat in one piece. And that’s without the inherent strains of playing at business negotiations with a group of decidedly underhand friends.

Join the Crows as they cheat, steal, lie, and bribe each other, all before the heist has even begun.

I am so excited to finally get to share the fic that I have been working on for the @grishaversebigbang​ over the last few months - A Hotel on the Board is Worth Two on the Geldstraat! Getting to take part in the Grishaverse Big Bang 2021 has been so much fun, and I have had the honour of working with an absolutely incredible gang of artists and the loveliest beta reader. It’s been an absolute blast, and this is one of my favourite things that I’ve written. Thank you so much to everyone that I’ve worked with, and I hope that you enjoy reading and admiring the story and art that we’ve created!

Here is everyone in my gang, with links to the work that they’ve created (some art may relate to chapters of the fic that haven’t been posted yet - the fic will be posted in its entirety within the next 3 weeks and the art will be linked within the fic on the relevant lines, but also there’s nothing that will spoil the story for you, so don’t worry!):

Corporalki: @davonysus​ (who is the most wonderful beta reader, thank you for everything that you contributed to this story!)

Materialki: 

@ciph3rrr​ with hilarious Crows-minus-Kaz Monopoly shenanigans from Chapter 1

@j-wirth​ ​with this brilliant Inej and Wesper moment inspired by Chapters 2 and 7

@bloodysusher​ with a gorgeous group moment in Chapter 7

@verdiris​ with some amusing Kaz geniusness from Chapter 7

@maximumbluebirdpatrol​ (link still to come)

@emmaxtw​ (link still to come)

There are 7 chapters in total, so I shall be uploading a new one every Tuesday and Saturday until 25th September. Look below the cut for an excerpt from Chapter 1, and if you want to read the full thing (and check out the collection of all the other incredible pieces created for the GVBB) then click either of the links. I hope that you enjoy!

AHOTBIWTOTG Chapter 1 Excerpt:

The front door of the Slat opened with a loud clatter, and slammed shut on itself seconds later. It made Inej jump in her seat as she sat going over ship documentation - which, as it turned out, there was a lot of - in the front room. Nina gave her a look, and Inej wrinkled her nose back at her; the Wraith didn’t startle easily, but equally, there was usually less banging of doors while she tried to organise her finances.

“Honeys, I’m home!” Came Jesper’s voice. “And I brought treats!”

“It had better be more exciting than that time you came back from Cilla’s Fry with meat pies,” Inej called back. “That was underwhelming.”

“Speak for yourself,” Nina chimed in. “I was more than happy to finish up those.”

“We know.” Matthias gave her a knowing look, and Wylan sniggered as she raised a single finger at him in response. 

The bickering that came from everyone trying to work on separate projects at the same time was one of the many reasons that Inej hadn’t made it past the first page of her sailing license. That being said, she joined in the chuckling at Nina’s expense.

“Oh, it’s definitely better than Cilla’s pies, but you’ll have to take a look for yourself.”

Jesper rounded the corner, a large trunk tucked under one slim arm. His face was bright from the brisk, cold air of the streets, and a bead of sweat dropped from his chin as he deposited the luggage on the table beside Inej. She sighed heavily as the wad of pages in front of her jumped with the sudden extra weight.

“Sorry,” Jesper grinned. She just rolled her eyes fondly in response.“Come on, who wants to see what I’ve got?”

Nina, Matthias and Wylan all got up from the neighbouring table and crowded around Inej and Jesper. It was uncomfortable having so many significantly taller people stood behind her while she was sitting, so Inej scooped up her papers and deposited them on the floor, taking their place on the table so that she could get a good look at the trunk.

“Where did you get that?” Matthias asked.

“Well, our dearest Kaz decided to put me on shipment duty and I had to wait around at the Exchange for a boat full of contraband to come in. It took hours, so as soon as I saw something that looked interesting, I used my innumerable skills to swipe it so that we could take a look inside.”

““Innumerable” is a long word for you,” Nina quipped. 

A bubble of laughter rose up amongst the group, and Jesper stuck his tongue out childishly. “Fine, no contraband for you.”

“No, I want to look!”

“Be nice, then. I get first dibs on anything cool because I found it.”

Matthias snorted. “What happened to the ancient rule of “finder’s keepers”?”

“I found the trunk, therefore I found anything that’s inside it by proxy.”

“Can we just open it up?” Wylan said impatiently. “I feel like we’re building expectations by arguing like this – it’s probably smuggled whiskey or something.”

“Shouldn’t we wait for Kaz?” Inej asked. The others gave her a look of incredulity. “Where is he, anyway?”

There was a brief moment of looking at each other for answers, before Jesper answered decisively. “If he was so worried about what came in on the boat, he would’ve gone himself. And if he isn’t here now, then he’ll just have to accept whatever is left over from the spoils.”

“We aren’t actually pirates, you know,” Inej said.

“Not yet,” Jesper stage-whispered in reply, and Inej found herself grinning, pleased. “Gather around, then.” He beckoned everyone closer like a ringmaster at the centre of a performance. 

Inej was surprised to find that her heart was actually beating faster with the thought of what might be inside. Wylan was probably right that they were getting themselves worked up over nothing, but all the same, she couldn’t help hoping that they found something rare or exciting. Perhaps it was gold? Guns? Something dangerous? You could never know when it came to the imports of Ketterdam, and for once Inej was glad for the intensity of life in the city. It could very well be something extraordinary.

The catches on the front of the trunk lifted easily, but there was a thick knot of string around the middle as well. Jesper struggled to untie it, so Inej slipped a knife from her sleeve and cut it off with one flick of her wrist. Giving her a mischievous look, Jesper dug his fingernails under the lid and with a crackle of flaking rust, the trunk opened.

On top there was a loose gauzy scarf clearly intended to keep moisture out of the trunk on the long sea voyage, which had definitely served its purpose; the red print had blotted itself onto the inside of the lid, and there were water stains on it where it had protected the rest of the cargo. Matthias and Nina went to grab it at the same time, but it ended up in Nina’s hands regardless as he passed it to her with a shy smile.

“I thought you would want it, so I was making sure no-one else got there first.”

Wylan made an exaggerated gagging noise, and Matthias’ expression quickly reverted to his familiar scowl.

“Aha!”

Jesper reached forward and pulled out two pistols, both only a little rusty and with a single blue gem stamped into the body of each. With impressive speed he turned around and mimed firing two shots at the wall before holstering them beside his favoured revolvers.

As Matthias pulled out a slim soft-covered book, Inej realised that she was far too focused on the discoveries of her friends and was going to miss out on finding her own treasures otherwise. Lifting up two more scarves – this time green and blue – she found another couple of books which she handed to Nina. Her friend’s focus was pulled away from adjusting her hair under her newly matching scarf to flicking through the pages and wrinkling her nose hard.

“I don’t recognise the language, but I can understand it well enough,” Nina mused.

“Where did the boat come in from, Jesper?” Wylan asked as he opened a small wooden keepsake box full of golden rings in varying levels of ornate decoration.

“Kaz didn’t say, and I’ll be honest, I didn’t pay much attention.”

Nina tutted and continued her reading with Matthias peering over her shoulder. With fingers now covered in rings, Wylan pulled out a long fur coat that smelt of mould. Removing its furry cuffs from the case, Inej reached into the trunk for what seemed to be the last item: a big box made of thick card, with a green cover and the word MONOPOLY emblazoned on the top. The lettering was incredibly clear, but it didn’t look as though it had been done by hand or with a printing press. It had an odd shiny feel to the outside as well, like it had been coated in order to keep out the damp.

Inej sat it on the table and lifted the lid. It came off easily, and revealed a large square of that same thick card in bright red that unfolded into a larger board with regular markings on it.

“What in the Saints’ names is that?” Nina remarked, putting down her reading material.

“I have no idea. It was at the bottom of the trunk.”

“Is it a map?” Wylan suggested.

“Doesn’t look like it,” Inej murmured as she put the board down and looked at what was left in the box. 

Underneath that map-like object was a tray divided into several compartments, with little silver tokens collected in one, some colourful playing cards of an unknown variety in another, and some appealing little houses done in an unusual material in both green and red. Beside those lay a rack of what looked like currency, in the same shape and thickness as notes of kruge. Jesper immediately started rifling through it all, mixing up the various collections and inspecting them all with irregular attention. Although Wylan slapped his hand away with a tut, it clearly wasn’t out of lack of interest.

“What is it?” Nina asked again. Taking the board in her hands, she began to stumble through the words written on it.

“Collect 200… something, looks like it could be a currency symbol because it says “salary” after that, as you pass GO... Old Kent Road, another amount of money… sixty? Community chest, Whitechapel Road, same amount of money as the other square…”

As she turned it over in her hands, a slim white booklet fell out onto the table. Inej started forward and managed to snatch it up before anyone else did, although the gesture was useless as she immediately handed it to Nina, who skimmed over the first few lines and let out a delighted noise.

“It’s a game! A board game! Seems like you play by going around the board which has place names marked out on it, and you buy up the land so that you can build houses on it. And you compete to earn the most money.”

“Who’s sending weird foreign board games to Ketterdam?” Wylan said incredulously. “Are you sure it’s not got something contraband hidden in there somehow?”

Inej laughed. “Does a game based on financial gain not strike you as the most Kerch thing in the world? I can well believe a mercher bought this to educate their children on the fun of working under Ghezen.”

Wylan cracked a grin at that, and Nina snorted. She pushed the box towards him.

“Take a look if you want.”

He lifted up the tray of items and ran his fingers along the underside, then looked inside each of the little model houses as if there might be gemstones wedged in the base like on Jesper’s guns. Wylan tapped along the top of the board, but there were no hidden compartments or secret openings. It seemed as though they had genuinely come across some kind of entertainment from another country.

“Shall we play it?” Jesper said with a broad grin at everyone. “We’ve got nothing else on, have we?”

“I’m meant to have applied for my sailing license by the end of next week,” Inej said weakly, but she wasn’t much interested in her own excuse. This bizarre-looking game they had stolen by chance had already caught her attention far more than boat permits and crew-hiring documents.

“I’m happy to,” Matthias said, and Nina and Wylan nodded fervently as well.

“Perfect! Let’s not disturb everyone’s things down here, we can take it into another room.”

“Nobody’s bedrooms are big enough,” Nina complained. “Kaz is too cheap to give us enough space to actually enjoy our stay at The House of Brekker.”

“His bedroom is, though.”

Read more here!

[oksana-moods]

Ghost of you - Part 13

Summary: The further Ghost investigates, the further she drenches in blood. And Ghost realizes she’s a fly in a spider’s web.

A/N: Sorry if I took so long. Promise part 14 will be here soon.

Trigger Warning: Violence (a lot), language, mentions of death… If you find any, I’ll be glad to add.

 “I'm prepared for this. I never shoot to miss.”

We left Nice early in the morning, arriving in our Hotel in Toulouse right after lunch. While Carol discussed the news with Nat and Steve, I made myself busy analyzing the bracelet. The rocks seemed genuine, just rare and mesmerizing. Everything about it screamed money, an awful big amount of money. This could be a piece of art. I put it in my arm, and nothing happened. No toxins, no poison, nothing trying to pierce my skin. Just a shiny harmless diamond bracelet destined to grace Carol’s wrist. A piece of star for a star herself. The moment we arrived at Théâtre du Capitole, the staff guided us to Greene’s box. It was bigger than I thought it’d be, with room for the Beauffort’s, Batroc, another two couples, Greene himself and us, his bodyguards would stay behind, of course. We had a frontal unrestricted view of the stage, probably the very best of the theater. After the pleasantries and greetings, we took our sits, and an earpiece found its way to my hand. When the show began, I understood why I had one, this was a business meeting. Hm, clever. They talked about money, resources, transports, then they started to plot an attack in London, to force UN’s hand in signing with Beauffort’s company. With this accord, Beauffort would be responsible for every single immigrant on Europe. We were halfway through the show when a new voice joined the conversation. “Can I offer an opinion?” His voice was loud, so this person wasn’t sitting among the audience. “I think that you people should find a better place to meet.” My brows were furrowed and soon a commotion was visible when people started to get up from their sits and walk towards the exit. One of Greene’s goons whispered something in his ear, but I caught ‘Interpol is here’ very clear, he sent a dark look in my direction and left the box, Beaufforts hot in his heels. I couldn’t afford having Interpol asking me questions, so I stood and picked Carol’s hand and started to walk out of the room to follow them, but we were delayed by the others leaving too. When we reached the hall, there wasn’t trace of Greene, so I pick the first set of stairs to find the exit. After a few flights of stairs, I heard Greene’s distressed voice. “This is on you, Jean. You brought her to me, and I let her in. He’ll kill me for this mistake.” That’s news, I never thought that Greene was the leader but a very high member of Spectre, but his fear showed me that he wasn’t that big or… their leader had history of being ruthless. Beauffort’s voice broke my train of thought. “She’s clean, Dom. She has nothing to do with this.” Thank you, Jean. And is true. We never contact Interpol with what we’ve found. Our feet touched the entrance hall just in time to see the deathly glare Greene shot at Jean. “I’ve made my mind, already.” I took the first door and dragged Carol inside with me to avoid being seen by them. “What do we do now?” Carol whispered. “I’m thinking.” She took a deep breath. Fuck. Who the hell called Interpol? Someone else was being investigated, I could only hope that they’d find out who until tomorrow. After all, tomorrow night we’d go to Chateau de Mercues to meet their ‘very important’ friend for dinner, I wonder if this friend is their leader. And something inside me says that yes, it is. “We’ll wait.” I turned to look at Carol. I realized my hand was still holding hers, so I let go. “We stay here and pretend that we watched the show until the end. I’ll call Jean later and see where we’re standing.” I licked my lips; my mind and heart were racing. This ship can’t sink now. We were so close. “We’ll be fine. As long as we keep together.” I said and Carol nodded. I just don’t know if I was trying to reassure her or myself. ------ “Are you okay?” I asked Carol while driving us to our hotel. “Just a bit tired.” Carol being tired was unheard of, but this past week was demanding a lot, from both of us. We were on edge, chasing an invisible enemy, completely out of our elements. I was about to reply when I saw a car from police signaling for me to stop. Something was off. I instantly felt my bones cold and by Carol’s expression, she felt too. They asked for us to step out of the vehicle and we complied with their request. What was going on? There were two of them, one was talking to me and the other had his hand around his gun in his waistband, like he was ready to draw it. We were two women, visibly unarmed, we were no threat to him. This is no good, something is definitely off. God, I’m glad Carol is bullet proof. Obeying his demands, I opened the trunk, and my blood ran cold in my veins when I saw Jean’s very beaten body laying inside. Fuck. This was enough for them to draw their guns and aim at us, the first cop yelled for me to pick Jean from the trunk and so I did. With the movement, he opened his eyes revealing he was still alive but before anything I heard the gunshot hitting him in the back, I pushed him towards the second cop while I hastily broke the first one’s hand, expertly picking up his gun and shooting them both dead in a blink of an eye. Everything happened so fast that Carol was looking at me as if trying to understand the last ten seconds. Before I could reach Carol, I heard Jean coughing, so I crunched beside him. “Is Lara your name, at least?” I nodded to him, my voice caught in my throat, and he gave me that signature sly smile stained with blood. “I liked you. Truly.” He manages to speak. “I’m sorry.” I just don’t know what for. “Run, Lara. Run from this. He’ll kill you…” He coughed blood but kept with his final words. “He’ll kill her.” He softly pointed at Carol with his head. “Tell Debra… that I… I’m sorry.” I saw the light leave his eyes, the familiarity of this hitting me hard. The light always leaves their eyes, but they still look accusatorily at your soul. I closed his eyes and looked inside his pockets for his wallet. Took the money, his watch and asked Carol to jump inside the car. “May your soul find peace.” I mumbled to his body and ran to the car. Minutes later we arrived at the safety of our room. Fuck. Greene set us up.

After we arrived, Carol barely changed her clothes and crawled to bed, claiming she felt being drained. She had a fearful look, and I couldn’t help but think that this was so out of place in her. I was at the door that joint our room with the balcony, I had a perfect view from the door or from the outside in case anyone tried to come flying to caught us out of guard, I stayed the whole night up, but nothing happened. The waitress served our breakfast in the morning and other than that no one came after us. The tv was on, I was looking for any news about last night, nothing yet. “How can you listen the tv? Is extremely low.” Carol’s voice startled me; she had that soft raspy morning tune after waking up. Goosebumps successfully climbed my back and arm. I flashed her a small smile. “Enhanced hearing. Nothing big, though, just a bit more than a normal human.” I lifted a mug with coffee at her. “Feel like eating?” She nodded and climbed down the bed and went to the bathroom to get ready. When she came back, there was a mug with fuming precious liquid and a plate with fruit in front of her chair waiting for her. “Thanks.” She mumbled and I just bowed my head. “Anything yet?” She asked. “No. Nothing in the newspapers either.” I said putting the pieces of paper aside. “Last night… You picked Jean’s money and watch… why?” I sipped from my cup and replied. “That way when the cops find their… bodies, they would think about a possible robbery first. And we’d have time until they come after us.” I felt so uneasy discussing this with Carol. Is not that I felt I’d ever have any chance, but I didn’t want her thinking that I am a cold blood murderer. Too late now, I guess. “How did you think about it? It was too fast.” If she was disturbed because I just killed two cops, she never showed. A weak smile showed itself in my face and I shrugged. “I saw it in an old spy movie. My friend Sam used to like it, a lot.” It’s been years, but I think I’d never stop remembering Sam or Wanda all the time, God, how I miss them. My thoughts were interrupted by a hand reaching mine, I looked up to see Carol’s soft eyes at me. “I’m sorry. I know you miss them.” I wanted to draw back my hand, for her skin was burning mine. “It’s not your fault.” I replied with a small voice, but she squeezed my hand then let go. “I should’ve known about… Thanos. I should’ve been here… with you.” With me? My mind went blank. What did she mean with this? Like being save by the bell, my phone rang, checking the caller id showed me it was Natasha. “Hey Nat.” After minutes explaining what happened the night prior, Steve was perplex with the things I did. “I can’t believe you killed two officers. What were you thinking?” “They were dirty cops, Steve.” I sighed, suddenly realizing how tired I was. “You can’t kill people because you think they’re dirty. And how can you be so sure?” He asked, still pissed and I’m sure he’s right. Just because I’m an Avenger, I can’t do whatever I want. Steve was right. I just can’t bring myself to care, I did what I had to do to protect Carol and I. “Because If they wanted to rescue Jean, they wouldn’t shoot at him when they saw he was alive. This was a setup, Steve. They were ready to draw their guns and they shot Beauffort while trying to shoot at us.” “Are you hurt? Carol?” Natasha asked, concern lacing her voice. I could feel Steve pitching the bridge of his nose, trying not to burst at how stupid I was. “No, we’re fine. Thanks.” “Okay. You two come back and we’ll contact NATO and explain what happened, maybe we still can…” “What?” My voice spoke as if on her own accord. “We can’t go back now, Steve. They’re planning an attack. Haven’t you listened?” I know he was mad, but this? London could be attacked in days, maybe less. “I listened very well, Mav. You’re acting like you run the world, but this is not how we do things! We’re not Hy..” “Don’t even finish this sentence, Rogers. We’re not Hydra, believe me, I know. But I remember when we fought against the Avengers. When we went rogue because you thought you were right, and I believed you, trusted you. And now I know I’m right.” I couldn’t believe he was trying to compare my attitude now with the one I used to have when I was with Hydra. “I’m… I never wanted…” He was out of words; he probably never expected such outburst, but we don’t have time to dwell on such things as past, or… I don’t know what he was implying. “Look, I know what I did was wrong, but that was a choice I made and is up to me to work this through. But we need to focus on what’s at stake here.” I ran a hand through my hair, and I was looking at the phone screen like I could appear at the other side. “We need to keep pushing this. Is the only way.” Even with such small screen I could see Natasha shaking her head. Shit. “No, Mav, you’ve been compromised. They probably recognized you.” I could see Steve agreeing with her. “They sent two cops after us, Nat. If Greene knew who I was, I’m sure he would’ve sent the whole squad.” She looked at me through the phone, but I could see she was thinking, she slowly nodded her head. That’s it! I knew she would see reason. “You’re right. Only Lara is compromised. Still, you need to come back. Is safer this way.” “C’mon, Nat?! You can’t possibly think this is right. What about the attack?” Steve spoke for her this time. “We’ll call the authorities; they’ll work with all the data we’ll send them.” This wasn’t right. It was obvious that they wouldn’t work fast enough. “Steve, what if this isn’t good enough, what if they don’t work fast with all the intel?” He sighed, his telltale that this conversation was over. “They’ll have to.” I closed my eyes and sighed. I couldn’t agree with this. “Mav…” Nat’s voice made me open my eyes and look at her. “We’ll work this through. But we need you two back here in safety.” I nodded at her and she smiled softly. “There’s a flight home in 6 hours, I just bought a ticket for you, girls. We’ll talk when you’re at home.” She sent me one last look, almost pleading for me to be in that plane and I just nodded. “See you in a minute” She finished with a small smile, and she hung up. We would be in that flight, of course. But six hours gave me enough time to attend one last meeting with Greene. “I’ll take a shower.” I said to Carol, who was stunned with our exchange. --------

“Where do you think you’re going?” Carol’s voice startled me at the door. My hand still at the doorknob. “I still have a meeting with Greene. We have a business-lunch scheduled for today.” “But Natasha asked…” I never let her finish her thought. “I know what Nat said. I still have few hours before the flight.” She licked her lips, she was nervous. “But what if he recognized you or try something…” I sighed and pushed away from the door and walked towards her. “Hey, look at me...” Her eyes were locked in mine, making butterflies dance in my stomach. “He won’t hurt me. If anything were to happen, I’ll call you. Is that okay?” She was conflicted and the battle inside her head was visible. She was worried and so was I, but people’s lives were on the line. I couldn’t just sit and wait. “Promise?” She asked softly and my hands found hers, with a light squeeze I let them go. “I promise.”

Greene’s manor was in the outskirts of Toulouse, it was big and beautiful and completely isolated from the other houses. While driving, I devised a plan of action. I would go as if nothing had happened and wait to see his next step. When I arrived at the gates and the security let me inside the property without asking many questions. Hm, maybe it wasn’t Greene who set me up?! However, this thought was soon forgotten, because when I closed the car’s door a fist came in my direction which I easily dodged and kick him down. When I saw a gun aimed at me, I knew that there was no other way around, I’d have to fight to get out of this. I was indeed compromised.

Twelve bodies later, I arrived at Greene’s main room. He was waiting for me, and he wasn’t alone. Batroc was standing by his side with his wicked grin. “Ah, I knew you’d come.” Greene spoke with a cynical grin in his face. “If you knew, why aren’t you prepared?” My comeback was sassy, but dread was roaming in my bones. “I don’t need anyone, except Batroc here.” He said motioning to the man besides him, who started to charge at my direction and before I could even think he knocked me to the ground. Fuck. He was strong, almost strong as Steve was. Who is this guy?

He was trying to break my windpipe with his hands, but after a swift movement he wasn’t pinning me anymore. He came fast and strong with his punches, kicks and different moves, I didn’t know if he was fighting or dancing. I dodged or blocked most of his blows and I got few in. He was fast, but I was faster. His nose was already bleeding when he managed to kick my legs and my back hit the ground once again, before he could try anything else, I kicked his legs and his back found the floor too. I heard gun shots, but my opponent had my undivided attention. All at once, we were fighting on the floor, gripping each other’s legs and arms. Twisting and crawling, pulling and smashing… until he pushed me and tossed over his shoulders, and I hit something sharp when my back hit the table. Fuck. I saw blood dripping from my shoulder blades. With a grunt, I pushed myself off of the sharp edge and got to my feet, right in time to see Batroc charging like a bull. I jumped in his torso, twisting my body in the air making him fall against the broken table, the sharp edge now impaling his back and the tip was coming out of his stomach and he was stuck.

Another gunshot and I stumbled backwards. I looked down and saw my shirt stained with blood in my stomach area. Huh, I fucking hate Greene. I charged at him, he tried to shoot again but I was incredibly fast, even wounded, I took the gun from him and punched him to the floor. Before I could even muster my first question to Greene, I saw Batroc setting himself free from the table. How is he up? I turned and shot him twice in the chest, and with that he fell dead on the ground. I looked at my feet, only to see a very much wide-eyed Greene staring at me like he saw a ghost. Hm, he definitely saw the Ghost.

“I can’t believe you’re real.” His words caught me completely out of guard. “What you’re talking about?” His nose was bleeding and staining his mouth and shirt, but he kept that cynical smile, and my blood was boiling. He screamed after I shot his tight. Good. I wanted to wipe that smile from his face. I picked a chair and sat in front of him. “What the hell?” He screamed clutching his leg. “I asked you a question.” I replied with a flat voice, as if I was asking a trivial question.

“He told me about you. About your arm…” He half laughed and that dread came back to embrace me like a wave. “You don’t know what you’re dealing with. You are a kite dancing in a hurricane, Ghost.” How does he…? I got up and picked him by his shirt. “How do you know this name?” He laughed and I punched him once, twice, and again until blood was covering my metal hand. “You don’t know what you’re looking for, but he’ll come to get you.” I hit him again and again, I just wanted him to stop. “Enough with these riddles. Stop!” I screamed at his face, but he coughed and spat blood on the ground, and he had that smile again. “Look at all these bodies in your way…” He blinked like in deep thought. “Tsc. Is so sad Carol isn’t here to see the type of monster you are.”

At this I felt self-conscious, I used the back of my flesh hand, the one holding the gun, to clean the blood from my lip. “Don’t bring Carol into this.” My voice was so weak, suddenly I felt weak, so I sat in the chair again. “What?” He kept saying with a smile on his face. “You thought she could love you?” My head snaped at his direction. “I never thought…” I began to speak but he stopped me.

“Aah. Please, I saw the way you looked at her. Your desire burned in your eyes…” He coughed one more time, he was paler since he was losing too much blood. “I can see it right now… But she’ll never be with you. How could she? You’re a disaster, you are death… wherever you go, there’s a trail of blood behind.” I tried to run a hand in my hair, but blood and sweat made it impossible. “Stop or I’ll…” He laughed. “Or what? Kill me?” His smile never faded from his mouth but never reached his eyes. “I’m already dead. You are too.” I got up to my feet, suddenly, too restless to stay in that chair. “The only difference is that I’m aware and you’re not.” I walked in his direction. “I said for you to stop!” Focus… Focus… Breathe. I thought to myself. I took a deep breath and turned to Greene one more time. “London. Tell me about the attack.” His eyes focused on me again. “Trying to pretend to be the hero, hm?” He tried to move his body to a comfortable position, but he was too weak, so he gave up. “I don’t know the details…” He sighed. “Is due in a couple of days, maybe in a big event.” I closed the distance between us and punched him again. “Stop lying. Stop with riddles.” When I let him go, he coughed and looked at me dead in the eye. “I’m not lying. We got interrupted last night. We’d discuss this tonight, at the Chateau de Mercues.” Finally, something useful that I can work with. I took a few steps back. “Who else will be there?” He flashed a cold smile at me. “Everybody.” I was about to press further when I heard a faint noise of sirens, and I’m sure they were coming this way. Greene heard too. “Guess we finished here.” He managed to sit against the wall while speaking. “Finish me off. I’ll be only another name on your body count.” I growled at him. I didn’t like the way he talked about me, like I was a wild animal. “I’m not like you, Greene.” I turned to fully look at him. “Oh, of course you’re not like me. You’re worse. You’re the cold murderer they made you to be.” He hissed at me. “Devil created you, Ghost, but I’m not even sure if you’re going to hell or worse.” I shook my head, I had enough of this. I pressed the trigger, but nothing happened, the magazine was empty. I dropped the gun and walked towards him, felling slightly better when he shrank under my glare. “Well, when you see the devil, tell him that I’m not far behind.” Faster than a bullet, my hands moved around his head and a soft snap came from his neck. I got up to my feet. I grabbed his phone and ran down the stairs, the sirens were much closer now. Fuck. This is bigger than I thought. Fuck. Steve was going to kick my ass.

[judediangelo75]

Hair Raising Situations

Hello everyone!

So this one is gonna be a bit different. 

1) I’m featuring my best friend in this one, because the whole “Judith Harris” development started between us two (She has her own MC of course and a Bill fan, Billiam being on her ship names).

2) It’s not connected to anything I’ve previously written, just a funny little story.

3) It’s not just TalbottxJudith. Shocker I know. Judith isn’t dating anyone but it would go in the order of who she interested in (from most to least). So it could be looked at as multiple ships and you’ll see her attitude to each person she interacts with. 

4) Judith’s hair is straightened here, but when... what happened happens, it would be the same hair cut as Orion’s.

5) We did give Skye a twin brother, his name is Hermes. Get it lol?

Anyways, I hope you like this silly little story. Enjoy!

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

(Brooke Brown) (Age: 16)

I was currently hiding out in the Courtyard in my Animagus form. Why, you may ask?

Because my best friend/sister is out to kill me.

Let's rewind, shall we?

-A little while earlier-

"I can't wait to prank someone with this Fanged Frisbee. Thanks for buying it for me, Brooke," Tonks cheered gleefully as we walked on the Training Grounds. I smiled at the pink haired Hufflepuff.

"Of course. You plan on scaring Filch and Miss Norris with it like last time," I asked. Tonks frowned.

"As much as I love to prank those two, I think I need a change of victims..." The girl trailed off as someone caught her eye. I looked up to find Judith practicing her broom surfing. I glanced back at Tonks and saw the impish smile spread on her face. 

Oh no...

"Tonks, I know that look. Don't even think about," I quickly reprimanded the infamous prankster.

"Oh don't be such a spoil sport, Brooke. Her reaction is going to absolutely priceless," Tonks waved off, preparing to throw the Fanged Frisbee.

"Tonks, no-" I watched in horror as the prank item whirled at my best friend.

"JUDITH, LOOK OUT!" Luckily that caught her attention as she was able to evade the frisbee. But she didn't get a chance to rest as the Fanged Frisbee came whistling back round, giving chase. 

Judith looked semi-scared as she did her best to shake off the frisbee as she flew around on her broom. 

Tonks and I readied our wands to put a stop to the fanged prank item before our friend could get seriously hurt, expect we were have a hard time actually hitting the frisbee.

Tonks and I could only watch as the Fanged Frisbee closed in on her from behind.

"Judith, dive," I shouted. Judith didn't waste a second as she dove down. Judith was able to evade the fanged terror... somewhat.

The sound of fanged teeth cutting through hair felt impossibly loud. I couldn't help but to gape in horror as my best friend's hip-length hair was cut semi-choppily and fell to the ground. Tonks managed to cast Immobulous on the Fanged Frisbee but Judith didn't seem to notice. She stared at the ground where her hair fell while raising a shaking hand to her head.

Uh oh. 

I immediately transformed into my red-tailed hawk and flew off. Not before hearing the scream that damn near shook the entire castle.

"BROOKE, TONKS! YOU'RE SO DEAD!"

---

So now I've resorted to hiding until, hopefully, Judith cooled off. 

I've been watching the doors that lead to the Courtyard just in case she comes here looking to rip my tail feathers off...

I was so caught up in my inner turmoil, I nearly fell out of the tree I was in when a giant Golden Eagle landed right next to me. Talbott and I transformed back into our human forms for a moment.

"What did you do this time," Talbott asked bluntly. I gave my fellow Ravenclaw an innocent look.

"What are you talking about? I didn't do anything," I said, doing my best to hide my nervous laughter. Talbott raised a sharp brow at me.

"And I'm sure Judith was yelling that she was gonna kill you and Tonks for kicks," he said. I shuddered in fear. Talbott sighed.

"Brooke-" I clapped my hand over his mouth, looking around in fear.

"SHHH! She'll be listening for my name for all I know," I hissed at the eagle Animagus. He stared at me, completely unamused.

"Whatever you did can't be-"

"BROOKE KELLY BROWN! YOU BETTER BE READY FOR AN ASS WHOOPING YOU’LL NEVER FORGET!" I let out a shriek, transforming back in my bird form and hiding behind a startled Talbott. 

Judith stormed out in the Courtyard, a fire dancing in her pale gold eyes.

Oh Talbott if you love me as a friend, please for all that good and holy, do not tell her where I am...

-----

(Talbott Winger)

After meeting the "Cursed Children of Hogwarts", I knew my life will never be normal.

I was just thankful for meeting Judith first. Even though she and Brooke were just as persistent on being my friend, she was the much calmer one. Brooke tended to be more mischievous and can easily talk my ear off if I let her.

When I heard Judith's cry of pure fury earlier, all the way from the Library mind you, I knew Brooke and Tonks must've been up to no good. Judith isn't the type to explode or get mad easily, so whatever they did must've been a prank.

When the normally calm Hufflepuff stormed into the Courtyard with a glare sharp enough to kill a man, I instantly had an idea what they did. And couldn't help but blush at the difference.

Judith has been growing her hair out over the years. Her thick long curly mane would reach her mid-back in its natural state. But when it was straighten, it would reach her shapely hips. 

I secretly thought she looked beautiful with long hair, silently wishing to play with her long locks. But now, said mane was now cut short. It was a bit choppy, but not in a bad way. She looked cute with short hair...

Her gold eyes scanned the Courtyard for her fearful best friend who was now taking refuge in my hood. Her eyes landed on me and her angry expression melted into something akin to shy embarrassment. She walked up to me slowly.

"H-hey Tal-Talbott," she quietly greeted me. I rose a brow. 

The fact that she can switch from rage to shyness nearly gave me whiplash.

"Hello Judith," I replied. The girl crossed her arms staring at her feet. I couldn't help but find her adorable right now. 

She was wearing her semi-casual class outfit. A black sweater over her white button-down collar and yellow and black tie, a black skirt that reached her knees, dark gray long socks, and her shiny ballet flats. With her short hair, it made seem so much sweeter...

I jumped down, feeling Brooke squirm before quickly settling in my hood. I took a few steps forward until I was standing in front of the cute Hufflepuff.

"Have you seen Brooke around," she quietly asked. 

I felt a nervous twitch on my back. 

Deciding to cover for my fellow Ravenclaw, I shook my head. Silence ensued between the two of us, as Judith still has yet to meet my gaze.

"New haircut," I inquired in an attempt to break the silence. The girl flinched.

"Not by choice. It looks bad, I know," she grumbled. As much as I love her with long hair, I love seeing her like this as well. It brought out her face more, and she looks cuter with the fact it wasn't completely even.

"Who said anything about it looking bad. I think you look rather cute with it," I whispered, twirling a strand between my fingers. Judith looked at me surprised, a hint of color appearing on her face.

"I- um... uh..." I felt a small smile grow on my face.

"Thank you," she squeaked, coming out more like a question rather than a statement. 

Too cute. 

I dropped my hand, silently chuckling.

"D-do me a favor and tell Brooke that we have Quidditch practice l-later, please," she stumbled over her words. I gave her a small smile.

"Sure, anything for you, little bird," I said softly. The girl's blush grew worse as she tucked a couple of loose strands behind her ear.

"Th-Thanks, Talbott. I'll see you later," she mumbled before quickly leaving the Courtyard. A few moments later, Brooke came out of hiding and transformed back into her human form. She pulled me into a tight hug.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!" I felt her squeeze me tighter with each thank you and quickly patted her back, wheezing that she'll break me in half if she hugged me any tighter. 

The Ravenclaw girl released me, giving me a sheepish smile.

"Oh, how I wish I could have you around all the time, Talbott. You managed to disarm her without even trying," she sighed in relief. I rolled my eyes at that. Not that I was looking to in the first place, but I did manage to calm the angry Hufflepuff down quite a bit.

"I don't feel like being your human shield every time you get her mad, Brooke. Remember, you have Quidditch practice with her soon so eventually, you'll be on your own," I pointed out. Brooke paled at that and whimpered. I would love to see how she wriggles her way out of that one...

———

(Orion Amari)

McNully, the Parkin twins, and I awaited our two teammates so we can start practice. Though I sense there might be some minor conflict that could cause a shift of imbalance during today's practice.

If Judith's yell from earlier was an indication...

Judith and I connect very well. 

She may have the strength that Skype prefers and the tactic that appeals to McNully but I noticed she gravitated more on my lessons on balance above everything else. She didn't bat an eye at my methods, whether it be for us to talk as equals by balancing on our broomsticks or even when I taught her how to Inspired Broom Surfing. 

She seems to enjoy not only the challenge but the peace it seems to bring her.

I don't know much about the Curse Vaults but I know it brings her much stress. Helping her clear her mind is definitely something I would gladly do for her whenever she wants.

"OY! Where the hell is Harris and Brown?! They should've been here by now," Skye grumbled, tapping her foot impatiently. Her twin, Hermes, smirked.

"What's the matter, Sky? Eager to get your pasty ass handed to you so soon? Especially after being the Hospital Wing for so long?" The Hufflepuff snarled at her Ravenclaw brother.

"Put a sock in it, will ya?! Now that I'm recovered, I'm gonna mop the floor with you," Skye hissed. McNully simply shook his head at the Parkin Chasers.

"I give it a 98.9% chance this has to do with Judith's death threat earlier," he told me.

"And what could you think to be the reason," I asked the Quidditch commentator. He shrugged his broad shoulders.

"Beats me."

"S-sorry we-we're late, everyone..." came a slightly timid apology. We all turned to find the Ravenclaw Chaser and Hufflepuff Beater in their respected practice uniforms. Brooke, who voiced this apology, was looking away and Judith silently glared daggers at her best friend. 

I blinked in surprise as I took in my Beater.

Judith's hair has been cut drastically short, very similar to my own in fact. I'd always found the Hufflepuff to be alluring with her long, thick mane. Especially when the wind would blow, toying with her locks as she meditated with me or when we simply practicing flying on our brooms together.

Her short hair didn't dampen her beauty but simply changed it in a different light. Her facial features were brought out more due to the cut. Her big gold eyes, her soft cheeks, her slightly sharp jawline...

"Tch, nice haircut Harris," Hermes snorted. The girl shifted her glare over to him, making him slightly flinched.

"We don't have time for a bloody makeover, Judith, we had a Quidditch title to defend," Skye chided.

"Oh, can it both of you! It's not like I asked for a bad hair day," Judith snapped, sending a side-eye to a timid Brooke.

"May I asked what happened exactly," McNully asked politely. Judith sighed, refusing to say anything. Brooke tried not to twitch under her hard stare.

"Let's just say a Fanged Frisbee gone wrong," Brooke vaguely summarized. I let out a hum of understanding as I studied the Hufflepuff Beater. A few strands landed in front of her face. Before Judith could do anything, I carefully brushed her hair behind her ear, allowing my fingertips to lightly caress her cheek. 

The girl blinked at me in surprise, a blush coloring her face.

"I see nothing wrong with it. I think short hair suits you," I said with a smile. The girl couldn't find any words to say after I complimented her.

"S-so, le-let's get to practicing, ye-yeah," the Hufflepuff Beater offered. I silently chuckled at her attempt to change the subject but appeased her nonetheless.

It didn't escape my attention however when Brooke shot me a grateful look.

———

"Oh boy, definitely need a Wiggenweld Potion," Brooke winced as practice concluded. 

Judith showed no mercy, hitting Bludgers with deadly accuracy. She managed to nail Hermes and Brooke quite a number of times, much to Skye's delight, but I can still sense some level of unbalance coming from her.

"Judith, may I speak with you. Alone," I called out to her. Murphy and Skye shrugged, Brooke looked relieved (more or less running out of the stadium, despite her injuries) and Hermes smirked making kissing noises in our direction. Judith looked very peeved, as well as a bit flustered, at that and looked ready to jump the male but I held her back with a steady hand on her shoulder.

"Come now, it wouldn't be long. I promise," I whispered gently to her. Her face did a funny little spasm as her blush grew worse, but she relented. When the others cleared out, I turned Judith so she could face me. The girl stubbornly looked at my chest. I let out a sigh and tilted her chin up so she could look at me.

"Something troubles you. What's wrong," I softly asked.

"It's stupid. One of the few days I actually could relax, I get chased by a rogue Fanged Frisbee thanks to Tonks and Brooke and now I have a haircut that makes me look more like a boy. I'm already insecure about myself as is, this just put me in a foul mood," the girl admitted. 

My gaze softened at the Hufflepuff witch. 

Tentatively, I cupped her cheek, brushing my thumb under her eye.

"Long or short, your hair doesn't define your beauty, Judith. I'm not speaking to you out of concern a captain has for his teammate, but simply as a wizard expressing himself to a witch. I truly mean when I say you're an alluring girl," I whispered to her. I leaned in pressed a small kiss on her hairline. I heard her let out a shaky breath. Pulling away, her eyes were closed and the blush darkened.

Her gold eyes fluttered open to meet my dark brown ones. She gave me a shy smile.

"Th-Thank you, Orion," she said quietly. I hummed softly and stepped back to give her some space. She asked if she could leave now and I gave her a smile and nodded, saying I'll see her around. She gifted me with one last small smile before walking out of the stadium. I heard the grass being crunched under a set of wheels.

"You seriously could've made the poor girl faint you know," I heard McNully say. I turned to him with a guileless smile.

"You know that I have no shame expressing how I feel. I feel a connection towards the girl, simple as that," I said. The commentator rolled his eyes and chuckled.

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

(Andre Egwu)

I was in the Ravenclaw Common Room studying one of Murphy's playbooks. I really want to be a better Seeker so I can actually play on the Ravenclaw Quidditch team. I want to make my grandmother proud... and Judith as well.

The witch never had to reach out to help me, especially since she's on the Hufflepuff team. But she helped introduced me to Murphy so I can learn and strategy wizard himself. I was actually surprised how friendly those two were with each other, which means they've been working closely for quite a while. I remember the kind smile she sent my way when she promised that this is will help me become a better Seeker.

She had such a beautiful smile. Among a lot of features.

Her smooth chocolate skin.

Her delicately sculpted face.

Her athletically fit (and slightly curvy) body.

Her bright gold eyes.

Her long dark hair.

I sighed dreamily.

"Whatcha sighing about, Andre?" A very familiar voice spoke. I jumped to find Judith standing close to the couch I resided on. I blinked in surprise.

Judith blew a strand of her now short hair from her face as she looked at me curiously. Suddenly her battle cry from earlier today makes so much more sense...

Along with Brooke's frantic running in and out (with a bunch of snacks and candy in hand) of the Common Room, yelling if anyone needed her she'll be in the Gryffindor Common Room...

I can understand Judith's anger, but...

It's not as bad as she thinks it is...

"Andre?" I snapped back to reality as the Hufflepuff rose a brow at me. I blushed.

"Sorry, sorry... I was caught up in studying these playbooks," I partially lied through the skin of my teeth. I felt my entire face grow hot. She let out a soft hum.

"Alright," she finally said. I let out a soft sigh of relief. I stood to take a closer look at the girl.

"Cute haircut, whose your stylist," I commented, ruffling her hair playfully. The girl stared at me, surprise overtaking her features.

"I was half expecting you to find this bad," she said, running through her fingers through the choppy cut to fix it. I shook my head.

"You looked good with how your hair was before, but you look very cute with this cut," I said honestly. The Hufflepuff Prefect chuckled and hugged me around the waist. I blushed and wrapped my arms around her. The sweet smell of her shampoo wafted up my nose. Mmm... cocoa butter and coconuts...

I felt a dopey grin spread on my face.

Dear Gods if this is a dream, don't wake me up...

Unfortunately, the girl pulled away.

"I wanted to ask you something," she said. The warmth of her hug and the sweet smell still left me in a slight delirious euphoria. So I didn't hesitate to answer.

"Sure, anything..."

"Do you by any chance know where Brooke is?"

"She went to the Gryffindor Common Room," I said, unknowingly ratting Brooke out to her possibly vengeful best friend. Said best friend gave me a giant smile and another hug.

"Thank you, Andre," she said, and was there a slight purr in her voice? She turned on her heel and walked out of the room, leaving me alone once again.

Sighs... so worth it...

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

(Brooke Brown)

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!

Once I get my hands on Egwu, I'm gonna clobber him!

...Assuming I survive my best friend's wrath...

I glanced at Bill, who was basically yeeted across the room to keep Judith from entering the room. He ended up hitting an armchair, which toppled backward. I forgot how strong my best friend was...

I silently whimpered at the sight of Judith smirking down at me.

"L-l-let's not do-do anything drastic n-now...! I-I'm sure we can t-talk about this, haha haha haha pleasedon'thurtme," I said as I shrunk into the couch. Judith remained quiet for a moment before chuckling. I shut my eyes.

Oh no...

Goodbye world, it was nice knowing you...

"Relax, will ya? I'm not gonna hurt you..." I cracked open one eye.

"Really," I asked quietly.

"Well not really..." Not helping!

"You can say that the short hair kinda grew on me, so I'm gonna spare you from anything drastic," she said.

"Wha-But-How-" The short Hufflepuff gave me a small smile with a slight blush on her face.

"You can say I received some votes of confidence today," she said softly, brushing a few strands behind her ear. I thought back. Talbott. Orion. Andre.

I smirked and snickered.

Apparently, that was the wrong move as Judith's eyes sharpened into a glare. I 'eeped' as she leaned in close to my face.

"Even so, I'm not spending x amount of years just to regrow my hair. You gonna find a way to help me grow it back or else. Got it," she whispered. I nodded frantically. She gave me a lazy smirk.

"Good. See ya at dinner, bestie," she said, pulling away and walking out of the room. Once she was gone, I went over to check to make sure that Bill was okay while mentally wondering how can I convince Penny to brew me some kind of hair potion...

[crybabyjam]

ship: todochako 

rating: g

length: 3k

summary: Todoroki picks up hitch-hiker!Uraraka.

c/w parental death (past), joking about murder

deleted from twitter, written for a former friend

---

The sun beats down heavy as Ochako tightens the straps of her backpack. In it was three changes of clothes, some stale bread, her dead phone.

It was only mid-morning but already she was sweating her absolute ass off.

She runs her fingers through her choppy hair, uneven on one edge because she hadn't had a mirror when she'd taken a rusty pair of scissors to them. Now she wishes she'd just shaved it all off, if only to save herself from a sweaty, overheated neck now.

Her parents had loved it when she'd had long hair.

Ochako remembers how her mom would wash the long strands for her every weekend, even when Ochako huffed and puffed and said she could do it herself.

Her mom always took the time to wash it gently, and condition with something sweet smelling— "Because a sweet girl like you deserves sweet hair, too."

And how her dad would braid it every time she visited, even when Ochako would have to undo it the next day. He would take his strong, worker's hands and lift each length of hair carefully so that he didn't tug on her tender scalp.

Now that they were gone, Ochako didn't see the point in keeping her hair long. It just slowed her down. It just made her /sad/.

She sighs, and steps out of the way when a car plows through a puddle right beside her.

Her legs get soaked, but it isn't anything worse than the day prior, when a truck had soaked her from head to toe.

Ochako just sighs and brushes the muddy water droplets from her already dirty legs.

It's a good thing she was out of socks, or else she'd have to start worrying about her shoes molding at this point.

She's just begun kicking her shoe off, to finish the rest of the trek up to the next city barefoot, when a car pulls up to a stop beside her.

"Are you alright?" A low voice asks, to her left. Ochako startles and twists on her heel.

She almost ignores it, because cars like that didn't stop for hitch-hikers like her.

But the car follows her a few more feet as she slows to a stop.

When she looks over her shoulder, confused, the man in the car tilts his head at her and nods.

"Are you alright?" He repeats. "I saw you get wet."

"Ah!" Ochako yells, and then lowers her voice. Geez, where are your manners, Uraraka? "I'm fine! Sorry."

The man blinks, and Ochako belatedly notices that he has the most stunning, grey eyes. Like darkened silver.

"Why should you be sorry?" He asks with a frown.

And then, he shakes his head.

"Do you need a ride? It's dangerous to get in a stranger's car, but you shouldn't walk around barefoot. Glass would hurt." He pauses, and then adds. "Probably less than murder, but I promise not to murder you."

Ochako is speechless.

But not speechless enough not to /laugh/ at the absurdity of the stranger.

She feels it bubble up in her chest like boiling water, and it floats out of her ugly, like when a pot spills the water and burns on the stove burner.

The man just watches, silent, as she wipes tears from her eye and keeps on laughing. He just leans against the steering wheel and waits patiently, face completely deadpan.

He's /serious/, and that just makes it funnier.

She gasps for breath as she leans against his car, one shoe falling to the pavement and skipping beneath the undercarriage, shit.

Ochako's laugh starts up again as she drops to her knees to retrieve it.

When she comes back up, knees blackened by sidewalk dust, and hands darkened by asphalt, the man is smiling. Just barely.

"I guess murder /would/ hurt more than stepping on glass." She agrees. "Depending on the type of murder."

He murmurs the words underneath his breath, eyebrows furrowing.

"You're right," he says, troubled.

She leans into the rolled down window, arms crossing to hide the ripped hem of t-shirt.

"You sure you /promise/ not to murder me? I kind of need my life."

Well. All things considering, it was pretty much all she had left. She couldn't exactly afford the house after her parents died. They hadn't been able to finish the down payments, and none of them (including Ochako) had enough savings to keep her afloat.

So, hitch-hiking. Walking to nowhere and hoping for more.

A few miles in an air-conditioned car was more than what she had, so she'll take it.

The man turns serious, though. The smile wipes off of his face— not replaced with a frown, but replaced with another deadpan look. He nods his head, making eye-contact the entire time, and says,

"I promise not to murder you."

Well.

He promised, at least. Ochako still had a little bit of mace in her pocket, if she needed it.

So she gets in the car.

---

His name is Todoroki Shouto and he has an open duffle bag of yen, two pillows with embroidered pillowcases, a shattered phone, and a half-full photo album in his backseat.

Ochako stares at the photo album instead of the other three things, because she definitely does not want to get murdered, thank you very much.

He was a cute baby. Two-toned hair from birth, and big eyes that only had one expression: wide. Ochako traces her ragged thumb nail across one of the pictures, where he's covered in cake frosting at his second birthday, and accidentally creases the polaroid image.

She hurriedly flips the page.

"Are you hungry?"

"I'm fine," Ochako mumbles, ignoring her tummy which immediately begins to grumble in argument. She flips another page to muffle the noise, and comes across more empty pockets than full ones.

From the way there's the edge of one polaroid still caught in one of the slots, Ochako assumes that they used to be just as full as the rest.

She flips to the back, and a roll of film flops into her lap.

"Do you even still have a camera for this?" Ochako asks, holding the strange, almost novel-looking thing up to the waxing light of the returning sun. Then she brings it back down to the shadows in case that might ruin the film inside, oops.

"At home," Todoroki says, low. Her shoes are in his lap, because he wanted her to have more room to look at the photo album. Ochako had tried to just place them on the floor of the car, but he looked so earnest in his offer that she hadn't been able to say no without feeling bad.

Besides, she had a feeling he was pretty harmless. Weird, but who wasn't?

"Oh, are you moving or something?" Ochako asks, and then immediately grimaces at the invasion of privacy. "I mean… 'cause of the stuff in your backseat."

"Moving…" Todoroki repeats, focusing on the road. They're driving slow enough that almost everyone passes by them, but Ochako got pretty motion-sick so she appreciated it.

Todoroki leans back in his seat, both hands at the very apex of the steering wheel. It's outlined in a leather cover and is so shiny that it almost looks metallic. Expensive as fuck, probably.

Everything about him looked pretty expensive, actually. The car was brand new, from this year. Still had the new smell and everything.

Ochako was actually pretty glad he insisted on the shoe-thing, if only to prevent mud stains.

Although his pants /did/ look pretty designer. Ah, fuck.

"Yes," Todoroki says, after the long moments of silence. "I'm moving."

"Oh! That's… fun. That's fun!" Ochako nods.

Todoroki turns them off of the road, and pulls into a parking spot. Ochako blinks past the raindrops on her side of the window, and squints out at the illuminated signs.

A restaurant. Ah, /fuck/. Ochako pats her shorts for her wallet, as if she could even /pretend/ it had money in it. All it had was her ID (almost expired) and a coupon for leg waxing.

"Do you want to come in with me?" Todoroki asks, turning to her completely. The seatbelt gets caught, and it does that thingy it does where it locks and gets tighter until you take it all the way off. He doesn't seem to mind.

Ochako smiles, though even she can feel how strained it is. "Ah, I'm fine. I should probably go actually, but thank you for the ride. The rain should stop soon, so…"

"Oh."

Todoroki frowns, glancing at the arm rest between them. He's engaged the parking brake even though they aren't on an incline, and Ochako's smile relaxes to something more real.

"It was really nice to meet you," she says. "I'd give you my phone number but I kinda didn't pay the bill." (Since, uh, last year, but he didn't need to know that.)

"It was nice to meet you too," Todoroki says. "I can buy you food."

"Oh," Ochako parrots, dumbly. Her eyes dart to the yen-bag and she hurries to shake her head. "I couldn't—"

"I don't mind. It's my dad's money— and he hates me. And I hate him, so." Todoroki finally takes off his too-tight seatbelt and it rattles noisily as it smacks against the car door.

"I…"

Ochako isn't sure how to approach /that/ particular landmine. Nor is she sure how she's supposed to resist free food. When had she last eaten. Two days ago, or something? She'd kinda been ignoring it, but the walking helped.

Now that she's technically resting, she can feel her tummy about to throw a conniption.

Todoroki blinks his wide eyes at her as he waits, not making a move. His blinks are slow, like a cat, and his eyes flicker back and forth between her own.

She sighs heavily, but a grin is already parting her lips. "You're a strange one, Todoroki."

"Am I?"

"I don't have any money, so you have to pay for all of it," she warns.

"I will."

"And I eat a lot! I haven't eaten in a while."

"Okay."

"And… and I want my shoes back."

Todoroki hands her the shoes. There's mud residue on his pants and the bottom of his shirt.

But he has a small smile on his face as he watches her struggle to put her shoes on in the closed space, so maybe it was alright.

---

Shouto watches as Uraraka stuffs two donut holes in her mouth, licking away the powdered sugar that paints across her lips. It looks like snow when it dusts down to her shorts, and smears chalky residue on her thighs.

He hands her a napkin, and she blushes pretty like a sunset paints ocean water pink when it sets at night.

"Sorry for the mess," she says quietly.

"It's okay. Is it good?"

"It's good!" She wiggles in her seat, and it reminds Shouto of a really happy hamster. "Do you want some?"

She's very beautiful. Her hair is cut in a way he's never really seen before, but it frames her face nicely. He likes it more than his almost-bowl cut. Some of her hair tickles across her shoulder, but she ignores it as she holds a donut hole out to him with a toothpick.

She keeps holding it as he bites down on the warm, cooked dough. He'd never really been fed by someone before. Well, as a baby— sure. But he had a feeling this was different. Was it different?

Shouto chews thoughtfully, and Uraraka smiles at him. She doesn't seem to mind feeding him. She stabs another one with the same toothpick and holds it out for him again, one hand underneath to catch the crumbs.

"Yummy, right? Thanks for buying them! I'll…" She flinches, interrupting herself. Her smile dims a little, like she'd lost power. "I'd offer to pay you back but, uh… ahaha, you know?"

Shouto /doesn't/ know, but he nods anyway. "I can buy you more," he says, soft. "You can take them with you. When you leave."

She uses the toothpick to prod and poke at the remaining few donut holes. They roll in the leftover powdered sugar at the bottom of the box.

"I'll be alright. But thank you." Her eyes get watery at the bottom lashes, and Shouto frowns. "You've been really kind."

When she laughs next, it's thick like she's close to sobbing. Her voice is shaky. Shouto doesn't like it- liked it much better when she was laughing /happily/ instead.

"Thanks for not murdering me," she adds. "This is probably the most fun I've had in a while."

"You can stay. I can drive you anywhere you want."

"Oh!" Uraraka jumps in her seat, as if he'd yelled it. He hadn't really spoken any louder than before, but he clears his throat and speaks even softer anyway.

"We just met, but I can take you anywhere you need to go. And I have enough money for the both of us. I really enjoy your company."

They're pulled off at an empty lot near a supermarket. Somewhere off in the distance is a park. The children there are loud, voices echoing in the evening ambiance.

Uraraka looks out towards the noise, but he can see her swallow heavily.

"That's kind of dangerous, isn't it? We just met."

She says it like how she says other things that are meant to be teasing. He nods anyway.

"It is. You can drive, if that makes you feel better. Or you can sit in the backseat. I would have bought a bigger car if I knew I would meet you today."

She laughs again, starting with a snort and ending with a giggle. It makes his heart beat faster in his chest, and he isn't sure if he's nervous or happy to hear it.

"What if /I'm/ the murderer?" Uraraka stabs one of the donut holes and brings it up to her mouth. She smiles at him when he frowns, and then smiles wider when he shrugs.

"If it happens, it happens."

"/Todoroki/." She slaps her palm against her forehead and sinks down in her seat. "That's the most dangerous mindset I've ever heard."

"I'm sorry?" He glances down at her the further she sinks, but she doesn't seem particularly angry. It looks like she's fighting, but on the inside. "It's not that dangerous."

"It's pretty dangerous."

She brushes her legs clean. Sits up straight and looks out the window again. Her breath fans out across the glass, fogging it.

He rolls the window down for her, and she does that snorting laugh again.

"You're a funny guy, Todoroki."

"Am I?"

"You are." Uraraka shifts in her seat, to pull her legs cross-crossed. There's one donut hole left in the box, and she rolls it around a few more times before she pokes it with that same toothpick and shoves it in her mouth.

As she chews, she glares at him. Almost like she can't see him and needs glasses. He leans in closer so that she can find what she's looking for.

"You're funny in both ways. Weird… but you make me laugh."

She closes up the box, fitting the toothpick between her teeth so that she can absently chew on it.

"So you're… 'moving'," she says, finally. "- and I don't have a home anymore. Where would we even go?"

Shouto glances past the parking lot, at the semi-distant street that is starting to pile with traffic after a brief lull. But his eyes inevitably drag back over to her.

Uraraka stares back, cheeks pink. A small smile grows on her face. She runs her fingernail across the edge of the empty donut box. He'd have to figure out a place to recycle it if he could.

There are so many places they could go. Somewhere warm, towards a beach. Or somewhere quiet, with wide hills and short buildings. To a festival. To a shoe store.

"Everywhere?"

"/Everywhere/?" Uraraka shakes her head, exasperated. "What about when we run out of money?"

Shouto shrugs. Uraraka laughs again. Her hand drifts to the middle console, palm up, and Shouto watches it for a while.

Then she leans over to grab his hand. Her fingers are warm, rough at the tips but soft everywhere else. She would look pretty in nail polish. /Prettier/, rather- if it were possible.

He maybe had a crush on her. Was this what love felt like? Soft hands and warm smiles? He liked it.

"I-"

She interrupts by leaning over to press a kiss to his cheek. It's soft, like a feather landing on snow. "Take me everywhere, then. And then I'll give you my answer."

Shouto, dazed, touches his fingers to his cheek. He forgets to stop holding her hand, so hers come along with it. She doesn't seem to mind. "Your answer?"

"On whether or not I'll stay," she says, cheeky. "So you'd better make it a fun ride."

Shouto squeezes his other hand down on the steering wheel, if only to keep his heartbeat in his veins so that the organ doesn't leap out of his chest and act a fool. He accidentally steps on the gas, and the car revs in protest.

Uraraka laughs again. She tightens her hold on his hand and pulls it back down between them. He squeezes it back.

And when they get back on the road again, fifteen minutes later, Uraraka has gone from laughing to singing loud to the radio and dancing in her seat. She's pure joy.

---

It stops raining, and the world feels brighter.

[navigatrixnarrations]

Sometimes Always, Chapter 1: Thieves Alley

The first chapter of a canon divergent kind-of fix-it set after Season 3 as encouraged by @whenimaunicorn. The beginning looks familiar because I posted it as a WIP, but it continues.

Warnings: Canon-typical violence and profanity

Words: 2034

Charles Vane once heard that a man can only truly possess that which he cannot lose in a shipwreck. For all the times he’s had to run with nothing but his life in his hands, and those times are many, this most recent is the hardest to bear.

The late autumn sleet beats against the drafty window of his rented room by the wharves. Nor'easters, he learned these storms are called, blowing in off the Atlantic, bringing traffic in the harbor to a standstill and turning the muddy streets into debris-strewn rivers.

Until recently, he spent his entire life in the heat of the West Indies. New York City is cold and unceasingly raw. Its damp chill seeps into his bones and makes old injuries ache damnably. Vane finds himself taking a liking to these storms anyway; they match his mood.

Perhaps he should head to the tavern where he works instead of huddling by the small fire trying to ignore the past. The tavern owner is a freedman, known to give a hand to other former slaves. All Vane had to do was show the brand on his chest and scowl a little, and he was given a job as a bouncer. The irony of it: Charles Vane, notorious scourge of the seas, reduced to breaking up drunken brawls and preventing grown men from pissing on the floor under an assumed name. Still, he’s alive and free, right under the noses of the fucking English…

He’s definitely being followed. He dislikes being followed. He turns to see that several of the tavern-goers are coming toward him, an assortment of weapons in hand. He dryly thinks that times must be hard indeed if they intend to rob him of his pay; split several ways it wouldn’t even be enough for a mug of ale each. A pistol goes off, grazing a leg just barely recovered from the last time he was shot, and Vane staggers. His attackers are nearly upon him when a slightly-built figure leaps between them. A low-pitched female voice, an oddly familiar voice, calls out something in what Vane recognizes as Dutch. There is laughter from the others, and they withdraw.

The woman approaches, her hands empty, reaching down to assist him. He gets the impression of large eyes in an angular face, a dark coat wrapped tight against the mist. Is it? Can it be?

She looks at him as if seeing a ghost, albeit a ghost with whom she is slightly cross. Then she remembers herself. “Charles.” Her expression turns wry. “Did I hear them refer to you as ‘Mr. Thatch’ back there at the tavern?”

He checks her face for any sign of fury, and sees none. “I can’t very well go by my own name now, can I, Miss Teach.”

“It’s Mrs. Sullivan now. And no, I suppose you can’t. I’m sure my father wouldn’t mind you using one of his last names; you’re more his child than I ever was.” Her tone is matter-of-fact, without bitterness.

He forces a levity to his voice that he does not feel. “So you married Sully? How is he, anyway?” At least she wedded a brave man and a kind one.

She shuts her eyes slowly, shakes her head, then reopens them. “He’s been dead three years. Took a bullet to the head in a raid.”

“Margaret, I’m…”

“Save the platitudes, Charles. They don’t suit you.” She looks tired, her eyes far away. “He was right beside me when it happened. He died free and he didn’t suffer.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that. What can he possibly say to that. Memories of the three of them as teenagers, skylarking in the rigging of the Revenge. Vane was the strongest, Margaret was the fastest, and Sully, well, Sully was acrobatic and fearless. And Sully made her laugh, something she did far too seldom. Vane envied him that ability.

She turns her sharp gaze back to him. "If you’re wondering what I said to your new friends back there, I told them that while it is clear that the only thing you use your head for is growing hair, entering Thieves Alley alone as you did with a pocket full of coin, it would be cruel to deprive you of it."

In spite of himself, he huffs out a short laugh. She’s studying him, and he thinks she sees the question that he cannot bring himself to ask aloud. I missed you. Did you miss me?

“My last words to you were cruel.” She takes a deep breath, steeling herself. “I regret them. I’m glad I have the opportunity to tell you so.” Why did I get you out of there if you’re going to go do her bidding, be her attack dog? She doesn’t love you, Charles, she’s incapable of loving anyone. And now you’re walking right back into another kind of slavery and it was all for nothing. If I never see you again, it will be too soon. She jumped into one of the longboats and never once looked back at him as the men rowed it out to the ship. He wanted to call out to her to stay, that he changed his mind, but youthful stupid pride made the words stick in his throat. In the end he watched her climb the rope ladder to the Revenge, watched her sail out of Nassau Harbor, watched her disappear over the horizon...

Vane holds her gaze because he’s certain that she would not welcome him holding her body. “Everything you said to me was true, though I couldn’t see that at the time. You had every reason to hate me.”

Margaret tilts her head to one side. “I never hated you, though I tried. Never even resented you, really.” She sighs. “I resented my father for wanting a son so badly that he all but ignored me once you arrived, and I resented the hell out of myself for trying so hard to win his approval.” She pauses. “You’re shivering.”

He starts to deny it but Margaret rolls her eyes at him. “Yes, I know, you’re tougher than the rain and wind and you’re made out of pain and hunger, but you’re not dressed for this climate. Let’s get you in front of a fire. I didn’t come to your aid yet again for you to catch consumption in fucking stinking Thieves Alley.” Vane knows better than to argue with her when she takes that tone.

He falls into step beside her and follows her through a series of alleyways, up some back stairs to a garret. It’s two rooms, sparse but clean, a fire burned down to embers in the small hearth. She drags two chairs and a small table closer to the fireplace and gestures for him to sit while she sets about stoking the fire. He finds himself admiring the quiet confidence with which she moves, the deft precision of her hands. That hasn’t changed. The wooden chair feels like heaven after a night on his feet, and the fire quickly warms the small room. He slouches back and stares into the flames while Margaret bustles around, hanging her coat on a peg, boiling the kettle. Unconsciously, the fingers of one hand worry at the scar on his neck left by the hangman’s noose. It’s slight, but it’s there. In most ways he’s recovered from his brief hempen jig. He can sometimes go hours without thinking of it, but there will always be reminders. Much, Vane muses, like his years sailing with Edward Teach and daughter.

Everything hurt. The latest flogging from the taskmaster tore his back open from shoulder to waist, and he could barely stand. His whole body was wracked with fever. He heard a girl’s voice, and a man’s voice, both unfamiliar, distorted-sounding, and then he was being carried. He must have lost consciousness; when he came to, the whole world was swaying and he heard the creaking of boards, waves lapping against the...hull? Why was he on a ship? Had he been sold again? And then a girl about his own age was looking down at him with a grave expression, her hair in a braid and her big eyes curious. “Where am I?” he asked her. “You’re on the Revenge,“ she said, and, seeming to intuit his next question, she added “you’re free now. We’re all free here. We’re pirates.” There was pride in her voice and her posture at that last. He later learned he was free because Margaret Teach talked her father into taking him with them.

In the silence that has fallen between them, his stomach growls. He tries to ignore it, but she’s heard. She fetches bread and cheese from a box on the windowsill, a bottle of rum, and a pair of dented tin mugs into which she pours tea, putting it all on the table between them.

That’s what seemed off. She’s wearing a dress, and it’s all wrong. It flatters her well, but it’s all wrong. A proper pirate like her, dressed like a merchant’s wife.

Margaret raises an eyebrow at the look on his face. “It isn't poisoned, Charles” she says dryly as she pours rum into her tea. “If I wanted you dead, you’d be dead by now. I wouldn’t waste good rum.”

He takes the offered bottle and adds a heavy pour to his own tea, then takes a sip and lets it burn all the way down to his belly. “Thrown your lot in with civilization, have you?”

“No.” Her knuckles whiten on the edge of the table and she scowls. “I fucking hate it here.”

He reaches over and places a hand on hers, and is gratified when she doesn’t pull it away. “You’re like me, Magpie. We belong at sea.”

“We do.” Her voice is quiet, wistful. “Nobody’s called me that since Sully died.”

Sully grinned at the way Margaret's eyes tracked the doubloon that Vane set dancing back and forth across his knuckles. “You’re a magpie, that’s what you are.”

“ What’s a magpie?” she asked.

“Very clever little bird, a bit like a crow. They’ll steal anything that catches their eye, especially if it’s shiny, and they’ll have a go at birds of prey many times their size. They live in England.”

Margaret curled her lip. “Fuck England.”

“Fuck England,” Sully agreed. “Rest of it suits you, though.”

Vane thought it was apt for the clever dark-haired pirate girl. His fierce little Magpie.

She turns her hand over in his and gives it a brief squeeze. “I don’t mind you calling me that.” They finish their meal in silence, but it almost feels like the silence of old times. As in old times, it’s easy to fall back into task organizing without needing to discuss it much; he clears up the remnants of their meal while she makes up a cot for him near the hearth.

He hadn’t expected her to invite him to her bed, not really; she never did in the past, and the disastrous choices he made when he was a young man likely destroyed any chance of that in the future. They’re no longer children with a habit of falling asleep in a pile among coils of rope like a litter of alley cats between their watches. But now, all these years later, they’re reunited. It will have to be enough.

From the other room, he hears a sob, quickly stifled. Vane knows Margaret doesn’t want him to know she’s crying, perhaps wants it less even than he wants her to cry, yet how can he ignore the pain she’s in? He tries her door, only to find she’s bolted it from within. He returns to his cot. Eventually sleep takes him, and by some mercy, he does not dream.