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whalesfallmoved · 4 years ago

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hand over wound

round two.

chargestep, rated t. 1.9k.

a brief, helpless attempt at ortega’s point of view. the shameless flirty banter and back and forth of pre-heartbreak ricardo, whose main goal is being an absolute menace to society- population, sidestep. horribly self-indulgent in every way, but she lets herself get helped in this one, so what can I say.

ao3 link.

—

She’s got a hard grip and a bite sharp as her bark, and when you finally get her to put her hand in yours it’s not without the same sensation of coaxing a street cat out of hiding, flinching at the first sudden movement.

Not this time, though. This time, she lets you catch her wrist, lets you turn it over, and— oh boy— this is the most skin you’ve ever seen, sleeve pushed up almost to her elbow, wrists on display, never would’ve thought they’d look this dainty, crisscrossed as they are by scar tissue and branching blue veins and solid as birdbone.

She squeezes that small, angry little fist in your hand and the tendons flex, the knuckles split raw and furious, scabs already coagulating where the damage runs reddest. Her trophies for that blitz quick punch she packs, armorless and fast (but not as fast— not as fast as you— lightning striking twice.)

Fidgeting, antsy, she kicks her feet against your chair, knock-knock-knock, squeezing her mask in her other pink, exposed fist. Jittery, and you bite back something wry and flustering, something that’ll earn you a freeze and an idiot and a blush and oh, you love that even more, how you can watch it bloom freely now, worth the wait and the coaxing to get her to finally tug Sidestep off the rest of the way, leave just Noa and her big, big eyes (deep brown as a hound’s and you weren’t expecting that, for her to be so warm underneath the hard, cold turquoise) and how she desperately needs the mask, they’d never be scared of her otherwise—and with your other hand you loosen her curled fingers free.

Toss her a grin, tap her leg with yours, pretend you aren’t surprised by how soft her skin is when it’s not covered in skinsuit and blood, the way it’s never seen the Los Diablos sun—at least, not long enough to match the freckles on her doughy cheeks (freckles down her shoulder? her back?) Layers and layers and here she is, in your apartment, hand in hand, and fuck, you can say something about that too. Something about that kiss something about— later.

“So, I was thinking.”

“Wow. Did you hurt yourself?” Reflex, but she straightens up, watches, waits, and you like that too— the way she can’t hear, the way she has to ask.

“A little, yeah,” medkits and rags and clean water, you dab at the cuts and earn yourself a hiss.

“Out of practice, huh?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” You wink and that gets you a scowl, a twist of her mouth, and you’re pretty sure if you weren’t you you’d get her teeth, too. Not even Themmy would get away with that, much as she likes them, they can’t cross the hard line of her last name yet, and you’ve earned smug, you think, you grin, you drag the antiseptic across her knuckles while she’s still glaring and pink at the ears—her hand jerks in yours and you squeeze tighter, gentle. “I was thinking about your suit.”

“Trying to give some fashion advice? Pass.”

“First of all, if anyone here’s in desperate need of it—”

“Jesus fucking Christ, not this again.”

“Don’t get me wrong, you make the unwashed seventeen year old boy look work for you, somehow—”

“Asshole.”

“Sorry, would you prefer sexily disheveled?”

“You— shut up,” there it is, her averting gaze, her grooving brow, her pretty cheeks— ow, fuck— her foot ramming into your calf. “You are such a dick.”

“You love it,” wink, sly grin, she glares harder but doesn’t argue, you’ve got her there and you both know it. “And that wasn’t what I was going to say.”

The split cuts are worse than you thought, wounds wiped clean revealing the deep and the raw all laden on top of each other, opened again and again, her smarting palms scratched and torn, not so different from yours when you try hard enough but it’s different (because it’s her?) and fuck, how long has she been doing this?

Still can’t win her over with the blue and the white and big capital R and the promise of solid health benefits. Too bad. Can’t blame her though, even if it makes your job twice as hard to let her into the systems, to let her put her darting fingers all over the Rangers’ files, to let her anywhere near the missions you need her most.

“Well?”

Look up, and she’s watching and waiting still, and you must’ve gone quiet for a moment, turning her knuckles over.

“Your suit’s crap.” Homemade and spliced together, practically sportswear these days, riddled with seams and stitches she’s mended. Not bad for a third-rate vigilante, but that’s not her, not Sidestep, not your—

Not your anything, and she’d eat you alive if she ever caught the tail-end of a thought like that. But she’s going to get herself hurt all the same. More hurt than usual.

“It’s just lightweight. Yours isn’t any different.”

“Mine’s definitely different,” fresh white bandages over red, swollen bruises. You wind them around once, twice, taking care. “The material’s outdated. Where’d you get it, anyway?”

“None of your business,” she snaps, and you half expect her to rip away, pleasantly surprised when she doesn’t. “And it’s not like I can just hit Uncle Sam up for some brand new state of the art gear.”

“I mean, you could.”

“Don’t.”

“I think you’d look good in blue.”

“Ugh.”

“Just think about it. You. Me. Matching uniforms. We could get you a little lightning bolt, right here,” hand over your heart and she’s definitely going to hit you for that one. “I don’t mind sharing the brand with you.”

“Go die in a hole.”

“Ask nicely.”

“Please go die in a hole.”

“Will you join me?”

“Fuck no. I’m putting you there myself. Can’t stand your ass.”

“Good thing you’re sitting down then. Also, thinking about my ass, hmm? Good to know.”

“Ugh.”

“Bad time to ask about what other sounds your mouth can make?”

“Try it and I’ll feed you your own eyeballs.”

“Ohh, promises, promises.”

She wants to laugh, catching it quick between her teeth, a soft indent in her softer cheeks, and if you try a little harder you might be able to shake that grin from her, earn yourself a glimmer in her dark, dark eyes—and she’s running out of bark, out of bite, so the first round goes to you as you set her fist down, wrapped, clean and new in bandages that won’t last the next fight.

You reach for the other and she goes willingly, fingertips settling butterfly-light on you, her thumb to the heel of your hand, scars and nicks aligned. There’s something about it, about the skin, about the colder palm that rests quietly in yours, the mods sticking to your bones, and— yes, you like this the most; the way she lets you touch her, even if it’s just this, one kiss in the aftermath of violence and her wrists on display.

She breaks the silence not with a laugh or a sigh but a shake of her head, a suspicious cant of her eyes to yours, then away; blushed, accepting defeat. You smile, wash her wounds again with the slow repetition of old, small ritual and she knocks her ankle against yours, knee to knee.

“You’re a deeply troubled and troubling man, Ricardo Ortega.” She finally says, low and almost sweet, and there it is; a dimple beside her mouth, unwillingly surrendered, and the sight unfurls something achy and bruise-deep in your chest.

And the truth is, you can’t help yourself. “I love the way you say my name.”

“I swear—” a gasp, an exhale, her bandaged hand meeting her forehead, fissuring that barbed facade of sneers and razor-edged tongues. “You’re so fucking weird. Can’t you just take an insult like a normal person?”

“Oh, those were insults? But they sounded so sweet coming from you.” You reach for the bandages again. Repeat. Gauzy, featherlight loops around her flinching knuckles.

“God…”

“No need for that. Ricardo works just fine.”

“How about idiot?” And oh, you’ve got her soft, how’d you manage that? She’s red from her ears down her neck, flush disappearing beneath the black nanomesh, and you wait for her to smack your knee or bring a little teeth but all she does is squeeze your hand, nose scrunched jaw dimpled, melting, and your heart’s tattooing itself to the ribs—maybe you can get her to let you kiss her again, just to see what her lips feel like when they’re not red-slick with iron and sweat and fear. They were softer than you thought. Desperate, too. Almost as desperate as you, and fear’s a thrill a rush a jump but when you thought she’d ended up mashed on the pavement it—

“Only for you.” A tease or a confession and the most honest lie to cross your lips, you tuck the gauze but keep her hand, and she lets you, thumbs over the boundary line of your wrist. Strange. Almost intimate.

She pulls back just enough to trade places, snaring your hand between her own wounded ones, running circles around the emitter, fearless, unflinching, trusting, waiting. Always waiting and never staying long enough for an answer, like you could give her a straight one either way, like you even know what it is beyond aches and bruises and the pained gasp pressed to your lips when you pried her loose and held her tight, Psychopather gone on the ground, victory in the shape of her mouth.

Still, a skip runs down your spine as she massages down, down into the calloused meat of your hand, not even jumping at the kick of electricity, spiteful as blanket static.

“What, nothing stupid about kissing it better?” She mutters—disappointed?—and of course, how could you miss that chance—but she’s always been better about the plans, a thousand little ways to sidestep dancing around in that lovely skull of hers when all you want to do is charge right in, and as she pulls away you pull back, catch her gauzy, angry fists in your open palm.

She waits. Waits to see what you’ll do.

You watch, hold your breath, the biting grin gone now, mask shucked loose for a moment when she looks like that, soft and vulnerable in the white-gold light of your kitchen, and she could pull away if she wants, or careen forward, turn it into a punch, into a throttle.

But she doesn’t.

Her eyes really are pretty, warm brown like the slow burn of whiskey down your throat, and you keep them as you draw her hands up, bring those softened knuckles to your lips, feel the first twitches of a smile that you press lightly against her and— kissing—

And she raps the back of her fingers against your cheek, barely more than a tap, a reprimand and hey—! She jerks away, stands up, darts from your grasp, gone again. Moved too fast. You sigh, catch yourself, remember to smile.

“Idiot.” She scoffs, grabs her mask off the table, ducks her head like she’s expecting that soft hair to make a curtain, a shield, but it’s twisted back at the nape and you chuckle, lean back, because it looks like round two is yours again, and you want— you want—

She’s on the other side of the kitchen, working that mask back, turned away, and you don’t ask her to stay, you already know the answer, but fuck if you don’t love to watch her leave, if you can’t wait for round three.

#chargestep #ricardo ortega #sidestep #fallen hero #mywriting #shameless 'tenderness is stored in the hands' propaganda here #these idiots- desperately in love and not a thought between them #definitely used this mostly as an excuse to play with banter and the lighthearted almost flirting of two clowns that think fighting #definitely counts as a love language #(this is as tender as they get- at least for now. the idiots. <3)#hand over wound*

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kinder-writes-surprises · 4 years ago

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To Your Throat

hey y’all with knife kinks and shit, come get y’all juice. Reader’s a gal in this ‘cause uh... girls are hot idk.

-Mod Pasta 🍜 🍝

Word Count: 2675

Warnings: Knife play, blood play, blood, dominance, rough sex

Loving someone with so much pent up pain, hatred, and regret was difficult: You weren’t going to act like it was an easy task. It was admittedly probably your most toxic, abusive, and satisfying relationship. For every harsh word was covered with a kiss, the heat of his flames could never match his passion, and his lust was beyond even that.

For one of the most wanted murderers, he was quite the lovebug. He actually enjoyed being around you, evidenced by your relationship that has lasted many years. Now that he joined the Villains on the Run club, however, alone time has come sparingly; Therefor, whenever he visited, sex came first. His pent up frustrations were gladly (on both ends) taken out fucking you senseless. However, sometimes you felt like you wanted more. Doggy style could only get so rough, you wanted something dangerous...

And after a bit of research, you knew what you wanted: However, convincing Touya to get a knife anywhere near you would be a tight bargain. He once filleted a man who grabbed your arm at a rave, and he made a point to keep you as far from danger as possible. That being said, he’s a walking danger, so your lips curled into a smile. Tomorrow might just be more fun than usual.

Upon the knock at your door, you felt butterflies in your stomach that you thought had been squashed a while ago. You rushed to it, a flushed smile upon your face as streetlamp light flooded in around a hooded figure. You grabbed his wrist, pulling the white haired man inside: How courteous, he showered before coming to see you.

“Someone’s happy to see - Woah-” His eyes widened as you pulled him in, closing the door behind him. He smiled with a short chuckle as you bolted past him to your kitchen. He followed, interested in your shenanigan's, “(F/N), what’re you up t - Oh shit-!”

You had grabbed a fairly dull kitchen knife and placed it on your counter in preparation of his arrival. You put it into your hands, carefully holding it out and walking back to him. Upon seeing you holding it out like a gift, he stood with wide, confused eyes, “I had an idea-”

“I see that,” He whistled lowly, grabbing the hilt and taking the knife from you with raised eyebrows. As if you didn’t already know he was an expert, he twirled it once in his hands before shoving it into his pocket, “Did you need me to cut some vegetables?”

“I-Uh-” It was now that you stuttered, turning a bit red and grinning, abashed. You put your hands down, awkwardly drawing your words out, “Well, you see, I kinda like... I had this idea-”

“I heard the first time,” You huffed at his interruption, and he just grinned like a bitch and crossed his arms, pushing past you to find what he could scarf down in the kitchen.

“Well, we’re always so uh... rough, in bed, right?” He nodding with a hum, grabbing an apple and opening your fridge while taking a bite from it, “Knives are rough, right?”

The apple hit the floor, and the blue eyes of a slightly flustered, slightly worried, and now fairly horny man met your own slowly. He held a block of cheese in one hand, and upon making eye contact, he quickly grabbed the apple, rubbing it off on his shirt and taking another very large bite from it, “Yeah, they are, but I’m not stabbing you (F/N).”

“No no no! Like, just hold it to my neck or something!” You exclaimed with a small laugh, and he bared his teeth in the most confused, awkward smile you’ve seen on him in a long time.

“I didn’t take you for the knife-play type,” He clicked his tongue, placing the cheese on your counter and cutting a couple slices off, popping them into his mouth for an apple-cheese combo.

“Well, uh, I just want um, more roughness, and you’re already great at that, so-” Your cheeks continued to darken, and you knew he was playing some game by not taking you right then and there. This walking sack of horny shit would be on you in a second usually, but now? He was up to something.

“Thanks,” He nodded, giving you a cheeky eyebrow raise.

“Does this mean you’ve done this before?” You became more intrigued: he was never that open about his past, never told you his last name, and it took you two years to learn that Dabi wasn’t even his first name.

“Of course I have, I’ve done a lot worse,” He then grabbed the blade of the knife aiming the hilt at you, “To understand what you’re getting into, try and hold it onto me. Go on,” He shoved it toward you, and you scrambled forward, grabbing the knife and looking down at it.

“Right, uh,” You swallowed hard as he casually ate apples and cheese. You looked up at him, and he didn’t even give you the pleasure of his mental presence. You scoffed, stomping around the island and holding the knife to his throat, “Hey, at least p-”

“Too slow,” He immediately knocked the knife out of your hand, grabbed it, and switched positions. He shoved you forward into the fridge, knocking the wind out of you. The knife was pressed firmly against your upper throat, and you shouted, hands flying to his chest.

“T-Touya!” You exclaimed, subconsciously pressing your legs tightly together. Yes, this is what you wanted. As if a light switch went off in his head, he pulled away from you, turning the blade of the knife away and pressing his lips together with a sigh.

“I won’t hurt you,” His mouth twitched, “I’m sorry for scaring-” Upon seeing your wide pupils and obviously flushed, aroused body, he paused, and his own cheeks darkened.

“No, that’s what I want, but only uh... if you want it,” Your arms dropped next to your sides, and you rubbed your neck where the knife had been, feeling the indentation and looking at the cheese behind him, “If you want dinner, let me-”

“Dinner after sex,” He stated, grabbing the cheese and nodding as you got out of his way. He put it away, then grabbed your wrist not unlike you had done to him, “Now.”

“Now? Oh, now, yeah!” You nodded, happily letting him guide you to the bedroom. Upon entering, he turned the light on, unlike his usual affinity for the darkness that hid his scars. You imagined he needed to see what he was doing with the knife, of course.

He placed the knife on the night stand, then paused, a smile growing on his lips. You recognized that look as the one he gave right before roasting a man alive, or when he was about to turn and throw you onto the bed. You received the latter, your back against the sheets in less than a second. He was on top of you, his usual cape that covered you both like a tent was replaced by a hoodie that he was removing now. You quickly did the same with your shirt, and he began undoing his belt. You felt a rush of excitement, pulling your pyjama pants down. Before you could get any undergarments off, however, he grabbed them and seared them off.

“Touya!” You gasped in offense, grabbing his arm. He slapped your hand away, grabbing your jaw with little care and pulling you up into a heated kiss.

“I’ll buy you new ones, shut up,” He growled, and you felt the cold metal of his stitches contrast with the heat of his body. His hands went to your hips, and he lowered himself down to your heat, “Fuck, now you got me riled up.”

“As if you weren’t already,” You teased with a laugh, then a small whimper when his long tongue dragged up your vagina.

“I was before you wanted the knife,” He brought your clit between his teeth, his hot, long fingers finding their way inside of you. His usually disgusted other people, but the joints in his fingers always pressed against the right places to drive you mad. He sucked, pulling a shout from you, “Now you’ve really got me high on you.”

“Oh shut up Shakespeare,” You couldn’t bring yourself to laugh, however: his poetic way with words always made your heart flutter.

He did shut up, however, diving into you and bringing more screams of pleasure that you had to muffle with your hand, gripping the bedsheets under you as he pulled sweet moans from you. Soon enough you were falling around his tongue and fingers, the man knowing all the stops to pull you apart like taffy. You whimpered, panting and huffing. He wasn’t satisfied enough, however, and you started to get up as he pulled his boxers off.

“L-Let me make that up t-t-oh-!” You exclaimed when you suddenly felt sharp, cold metal against your sternum. You looked down to see the tip of your kitchen knife pressed in between your breasts, and you looked back up to Touya with wide eyes, “Oh-”

“Down, now,” He snapped, and you fell back, eyes wider than the full moon. He fell back with you, climbing back on top as you parted your legs for him. He slowly lowered his face to you, bringing the knife up to your chin, “Get a condom.”

“Yes,” You couldn’t nod, so you reached without looking to your bedside dresser and opened it, pulling the box out and then one packet out, throwing the box on the ground.

“Take it out,” He continued, a spark in his eyes that you could tell was turning into a raging fire. You did as you were told, that same fire catching within you, “Put it on.”

“Yes,” You whispered, reaching down to his erection. He was hard as stone at this point, turned on by the situation at hand.

“Yes what?” He growled, his smile turning into a devious, evil grin that sent pleasant shivers down your back.

“Yes sir,” You took a sharp breath, and with his free hand, he aligned at your entrance, pushing in. You breathed out in relief, closing your eyes.

“Don’t relax,” The knife was suddenly at your throat, pressing in as he pressed deeper, “This might be dull, but I don’t need a knife to end your life,” He started a rhythm that quickly picked up speed. You gasped, your whines growing louder into moans.

“Please,” You begged, “Touya,” He grit his teeth, and you were confused for a second before you felt his hand on your throat. You yelped in surprise, but having handed your safety to this man many times, you trusted him. He pressed against your jugular vein, cutting blood off to your head. You could feel the hilt of the knife in his hand, and your whimpering gasps could barley express how much pleasure surged through you.

He was fucking you at a rough pace, and once you started to see black spots, you grabbed his arm. He loosened his grip, and you gasped for breath, endorphins surging through you, “Fuck, Touya,” You moaned his name at a pitch you hadn’t expected, and he grunted, lowered himself down as his nails dug into your hips so he could get deeper.

“Say my name again,” He groaned, breathing heavily. You did as you were told, and you felt his teeth in your skin, biting deep, deeper than usual. He was finally starting to catch on that you enjoyed the thrill, the danger, and possibly even a bit of pain. You gasped, grabbing his shoulders and sinking your own nails in.

“Please,” Slipped out again, and he pulled back, licking his lips. His eyes, burning the same colour as his flames, bore into your own in a silent question. What do you want me to do to you?

Your eyes went to the knife in his hand, and he cocked an eyebrow, then swallowed hard. His pace slowed down, and you start to think you might have crossed a line. Before you could ask, however, a focused look dawned his face, and you felt his thrusts become methodical and deep as he brought the tip of the knife to your chest. When it first grazed your skin, you were surprised by how much a little cut could hurt.

However, with every thrust came a rush of pleasure that lapped the pain away, leaving it seared with pleasure instead. You felt overwhelmed and overstimulated, barely having the energy to twitch and grip the pillow under your head. He bit his lower lip, obviously paying attention to his work on your chest and breasts, but also fucking you in almost a primal, needy way. He wanted to work, but he needed you.

Eventually you came, warning him with a short shout, then long moan as your legs tightened around him. He paused his work of light scratches and nicks, then once you quieted down, continued as if it was a mere distraction. As his thrusts started to get sloppier and he was grunting with even the minimal effort he was exerting, you knew he was close to done: Your own body was fried, and the only reminder of the real world was the barely bleeding marks upon your chest. You doubted they would even permanently scar: that’s how delicate he was.

Finally, once he finished however, he tossed the knife onto your other pillow, grabbing your hips with both hands and suddenly increasing the pace, thrusting into you. You yelped, gasping and grabbing onto the sheets once again as reality flushed back in. You felt a single trickle of blood fall off your side, but the pain from the marks he made merely stung a little: Too much pleasure was coursing through you to care. He finished quickly, and you felt sufficiently used as he flopped next to you, grabbing the knife before and tossing it off the bed, “Fuck.”

“Fuck ind-wait, did you write something?” You looked down at your chest to see what he had been doing. The man snickered, then began to laugh, pulling the condom off.

“I’ll be right back,” He got up, and you heard the bathroom door open once he left the room. You waited patiently, and when he came back with gauze, medical tape, and isopropyl alcohol, you whined with less of a sexy undertone, “Ah ah ah, it’s gotta be cleaned or it’ll get infected.”

“What if I wanna be infected,” You mumbled, and he raised a single eyebrow, pulling his boxers on before sitting next to you and going to work cleaning the marks. It stung so much worse than when he made them, and you hissed in pain.

“Fuck, did I cut too deep? I’m sorry, I-”

“No, no, I liked it, really. I liked all of it,” You nodded quickly, waving your hands around. He pressed his lips together with a small sigh, and you assumed it was more self-disappointment.

“I might have gone a little sadistic, I’m sorry you had to see that side of me,” He muttered, and you felt his personal shame creeping into him, evident in the tone of his voice. You gently put a hand on his own, pausing him for a second to look into his eyes.

“I love all parts of you, Touya,” You smiled, bringing a hesitant one from the usually snarky boy. He could let his guard down with you, he could be himself with you, “Even the ones you might not like.”

“Even my uneven balls?” The laugh that erupted from the both of you was loud enough to rival a train, and the rest of the evening consisted of similar laughter, and banter to follow.

The next couple weeks, however, you had to spend knowing someone’s name was engraved upon your chest. You were marked, owned, and carved in by the symbols for Touya, 燈矢.

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unholyplumpprincess · 4 years ago

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Of Flowers and Lust

Here is a kofi commission for @uhohko who I had the absolute pleasure of working with because they really said ‘hey Peach here’s all your kinks in one’ and so I kind of went absolutely bonkers with this. The idea? Sex pollen, Elliott getting a full whiff of it, Bloodhound getting WRECKED LIKE THEY DESERVE.

Summary: Bloodhound loves to collects herbs and natural flora for at home remedies and cooking. This can involve some things such as mushrooms that can calm down anxieties, to natural foliage that can help you sleep, or even to the pretty yellow flowers they bring home that are to increase sex drive and fertility. Elliott is always effected much harder, more intensely by these things for some reason. Yet, he never takes the time to consider that Bloodhound says 'don't touch this' was a demand, rather than the 'suggestion' he takes it as. Or. In which Elliott inhales sex pollen and wants to breed Bloodhound until the morning is night.

Reblogs > Likes. Age in your bio (18+ only) or be blocked.

Fandom: Apex Legends

Relationship: Mirage/Bloodhound

Warnings: NSFT/R18+, Bloodhound has a vulva and hella body mods (you can find my hc of them listed in my masterlist), Sex pollen BUT CONSENSUAL, copious amounts of cum, loud loud breeding kink, The term ‘mama’ is used for Bloodhound which is bc nb folk Can use gendered terms u know and I’m only putting this here bC SOMEONE IS GONNA CLOWN, Lots of dirty talk like filthy filthy talk, cum swallowing.

Words: 6.1k

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It should be best stated now that: Elliott did not take to listening very well.

No, no, not emotionally. No, Elliott was a fantastic partner. He was kind and sweet, even going so far as to try with all his might to help with Bloodhound’s insomnia. Gods bless him, trying to stay awake with them through the nights, eyes fighting to stay open whilst Bloodhound cozily read up next to him. It wasn’t that he didn’t take to listening well in their relationship, no, Elliott was just as attentive as Bloodhound was to their beloved in turn.

No. It is simply the fact of the matter that Elliott did not take to listening to things like ‘Don’t put that in your mouth’ as a warning, but more as a suggestion.

For most things Bloodhound foraged, it wasn’t an issue. It would have minor side effects or Elliott would simply not enjoy the taste or smell of it. They did a lot of cooking now that they could cook for two- when they weren’t cooking with Makoa for the whole compound that is- and Bloodhound enjoyed finding fresh ingredients. Whether that was from the various plants they grew in their room, or what they could find on planet. Including meats that they’d hunt themself and Elliott would be ‘wowed’ by all the dishes they could create.

They took pride in being able to cook for him, and in turn they watched Elliott light up when it was his turn to make something. Their two styles of cooking varied vastly, with Elliott leaning more comforting, filling foods. Whilst Bloodhound leaned more for spices and what would be earthier and slow cooked.

With this, also came Bloodhound foraging for ‘alien plants’ as Elliott called them.

~Rest under the cut~

Nearing the arena was natural foliage and thick woods that weren’t recommended to go in, woods in which Bloodhound often found a creature to get meat from and organic vegetation. This could also lead to them going out merely to collect flora that they would crush and turn into salves, teas, medicines, various things that they must have learned from their uncle. Who Elliott only knew from Bloodhound gently opening up one night, but not a lot about him.

Bloodhound was more reserved, and Elliott made sure they knew how proud he was of them anytime they opened up with one more little thing.

It was the little things.

Recently, Elliott had been staying in their room for longer periods of time. Going from hours to days to staying an entire week. Bloodhound didn’t mind, not in the slightest. Elliott had stated it was to help their insomnia at first, only to shyly rub the back of his neck with a soft laugh and say, “And, uh, I...I like your company at night- w-well, all the time, I mean, like, of course I love your company! All the time, I just meant like, when we’re sleeping together and- and-and--”

And they’d let him talk it out of his system, hands moving only to slow down when he peeked over to see their patient gaze. He’d taken a slow breath, his cheeks flushed and a soft laugh bubbling from him when Bloodhound had smiled kindly and stated, “I understand, beloved. You need not to worry. I enjoy your company as well. At all hours.”

Just the tiniest joke to ease his nerves and make that blindingly beautiful, dimpled smile split across his face.

But, now that he was here more often, it meant he was curious in the flora Bloodhound always brought back. They had a thin cord run across their window to sun dry any flora. Always tied up and strung upside down to be dried and later crushed into powders or turned into various other things. Mushrooms were dried the same way and anything else they might try- however, Elliott was a curious creature.

Bloodhound tries to teach him, explaining the properties and uses of certain things and why they collect them. The strange vibrant, violet mushrooms were to ease anxiety if used in a small dosage. Normally used in teas or to hold under the tongue until mush to spit out.

They had started to explain that eating one, or not dissolving into tea, could cause a feeling as if being high. But when they turn around, they’d found Elliott already chomping down on one with a face of ‘uh-oh’ when they’d turned to look at him.

It was amusing to watch him laze about and whine that he couldn’t move. It wouldn’t harm him bodily or mentally, no, but Bloodhound did mildly delight in watching Elliott roll around on their bed and chirp about how ‘soooft and waaaarm and great smelling’ their bed was. Although, even more delight arose when they realized he was practically humping their bed.

Yes, it appeared Elliott’s body reacted more...acutely to certain things.

Side effects that could be rarer, such as arousal from that particular mushroom. Though even more peculiar is when he’d cum in their mouth, only to sigh and thank them in a lazy tone and say, “Yeah, you’re WAY better than a pumpkin.”

A response that had them quirking a brow, but never receiving an answer when they’d heard him snoring. Able to see him spread out like a starfish with a half hard dick flopped on his hip.

Attractive.

For most things, Bloodhound has learned that in the case of them bringing home foreign flora or vegetation, that by default Elliott will not listen. Thankfully they’ve never brought anything dangerous home, besides some poisonous bark that they kept AWAY from Elliott in another area in which he would not curiously bring it to his nose.

Today, however, they’ve brought home beautiful yellow flowers. They’re small, almost budding open like a tube with its petals with cobalt pollen stems inside. They bloom in a group, almost looking like lavender on their trimmed stems to be able to fit into a tightly sealed bag.

Bloodhound enters their room in full gear, shutting and locking the door behind them and finding their home cleaned up. With only just a jacket over the pile of cushions and furs that acted almost as a couch in the center of the main room.

Different bones rest along the walls of their home, either from their own hunts or Artur or Munnin bringing them in. Picture frames that Elliott had brought them with pictures of them in more intimate scenarios like their first date, or a picture that just consisted of Elliott taking a selfie that he had given as a joke gift for their birthday that they wound up cherishing. To different potted plants that lined the open wall towards their small kitchen area.

Elliott comes around the corner looking freshly showered. He’s got on a black t-shirt that’s a little tight on him and showing his midriff, most certainly belonging to Bloodhound, and some gray sweatpants. It’s casual wear, showing he’s already made up his mind on staying for a few days.

A decision that Bloodhound gladly accepts.

His curls are still a bit damp, it looks like, and as they start to remove their gear, starting with their respirator, they inhale and can smell the products he uses in his hair and the soaps he must have borrowed. Their full lips quirk up briefly, the idea that he smelled like them always irking a flicker of possessiveness in their stomach.

Theirs.

“Ah, hey, Houndie! Was wondering when you’d be back!” Elliott greets, coming closer as they start to remove their helmet, shaking their frizzy red curls free and pulling their goggles up and onto the top of their head.

They greet him properly once he reaches them, gently cupping his cheeks and pulling him close to rest their foreheads together.

It’s quiet and intimate, letting their breath mingle and noses gently nuzzling. Elliott would have never guessed for them to be so affection and intimate, not back before they were dating- or even friends for that matter! It had taken all of Bloodhound’s courage to even hook their pinkies their first date.

Even now he smiles through it, keeping his eyes closed for the twenty seconds Bloodhound holds him before gently letting him go. “I apologize. It took longer to find than I thought it would.” Speaking as they move to remove their upper armor. Too heavy and hot to be worn indoors. They’re left in their long sleeved, tight black shirt, gloves, combat boots, and tactical pants.

A look in which they know Elliott is graciously looking at their ass once they turn their back to him.

Bloodhound moves around him towards their counter area they’d built. Set up with cutting boards to the side, herb separators, and various knives to help them with the set up. They set the clear bag full of flowers atop, feeling as Elliott curiously stalks behind them.

With their hands still gloved, they pull out the flowers and set them on top of the smooth counter. Peeking around for their ribbon to tie them up and huffing when they find it not in sight. They can already feel Elliott hovering behind them, making that curious little noise he does in a quiet question of what they had.

“They are called The Child Bestowers,” Bloodhound begins, watching from the corner of their good eye as Elliott shuffles to their side to peek around them. “They are for aiding in arousal, for those who need help, as well as providing a pleasant sensation if turned into lubrication. They are also said to help with fertility, if you are to drink them in teas or bathe with them. Or to increase sperm count, if the person having them has external genitalia.” They explain, gently aligning them into a bouquet to rest on top of each other.

“Soooo...it’s a sex plant?” Elliott frankly says. A statement to which Bloodhound lets out a rushed breath of amusement from their nose.

“I suppose, if you wish to be blunt, yes. Wait here, and do not touch them. Elliott, am I understood?”

“Aw, c’mon, babe! What’s the harm? I just get horny? Don’t need plants to do that.” Elliott coos at them, making an obvious look back at their ass. But when they shoot him a look, he sighs, holding a hand over his heart and a hand flat palmed towards them with his eyes closed. “I, Elliott ‘Mirage’ Witt, will not touch the horny flowers. Scout’s honor.”

There’s a strain to that word.

Elliott was always good with his words; Silver tongued and quick witted, a trickster truly walking among the mortal plane. It is what attracted Bloodhound to him in the first place, besides his kindness. They narrow their eyes at his face, watching him peek open one eye and giving his very best puppy dog eyes when they look at him until it’s Bloodhound’s turn to relent with a sigh.

He’s going to do something. They know he will. Always so curious about the effects. There should be nothing odd if he were to touch them, just that the pollen was potent as is and Elliott always had...new reactions to things. As if his immune system were built differently. He would most certainly become aroused, but they worried about what the full effect would be...

They leave the room to find ribbon so they may string up the bouquets to dry. Finding the ribbon resting in the window sill where they must have left it absentmindedly. And in just maybe the minute they are gone, they return to Elliott who is standing perfectly innocent with his hands folded behind his back.

Suspicious at his innocent looking face, his doe-like eyes fluttering at them, they narrow their own. Carefully coming around the counter and setting the ribbon next to the flowers. It’s with great attention to detail do they see the speck of yellow on his nose, “Elliott did you tou--”

“I did not TOUCH the flowers, swear!”

“Did you smell them?”

That’s when Elliott’s lips purse, eyes flickering to the side away from their face as if a child who had been caught. He eventually gives in, sighing, “Yeah, but they smelled really good? And I don’t think anything is gonna happen! Look, no boner!” As if to make a point, he leans back and away from the counter, gesturing blatantly to his crotch. Their eyes briefly flicker down, quirking a brow to see the tent resting there and their own cheeks warming.

“Elliott...”

“What?” He blinks, looking down and then his own face flushes. It’s as if Bloodhound and himself had never had intercourse because both his hands fly to hide said tent, his face burning red. “Shit! I-I-I didn’t even feel it??? It just- it just feels warm? Like usual? Aw shit maybe it did do something? I’m not gonna die, right? Death by horny doesn’t really sound like an extrav - an extgan- ext — a cool way to go .”

Bloodhound sighs with an amused tone at his franticness, amused at how his hands had gone from hiding to instead gesturing like he normally does. Yes, it was supposed to aid in arousal, but it wasn’t supposed to have such a quick effect. Then again, Elliott’s body always seemed to experience the more intense side of things when it came to new flora and foliage.

“No, there is nothing deadly within their pollens. However, you may be more difficult to satis--” They cut themself off then when Elliott lets out this pained whine, seeming to scoot closer to them until they’re backed up against the counter throughout their singular sentence.

Their breath hitches, hands coming to rest on his waist in almost a comforting manner when he ducks his head down. At first, they think he’s going for a kiss, until he’s nosing at their neck, nudging their head to the side and pressing open mouthed, hot kisses up to their pierced ear.

Bloodhound’s breath catches, squeezing his waist gently and running their hands up along his body until they can get to his curls. “Y-you may be more difficult to satisfy, when you are- ah- affected by the- the pollen-” They manage to breathe out, twisting their fingers at the root to hold him, a soft gasp leaving them when his teeth nip at their jawline.

But, even through the haze Elliott must be feeling, he still manages to huff out in a strained tone, ”Do...Do you want to...? I can go to the shower and deal- ah- deal with this?”

“I wish to aid in however you need.” Bloodhound responds honestly, pulling his hair gently when his teeth sink into their neck and they feel him sucking. Sensitive there, they let out a soft growl that only makes Elliott groan. His hands going from gripping the counter to hoisting them up by their thighs onto it, pushing the flowers to the side to get them out of the way.

They know a hickey will rest over their flesh over the splash of lighter skin tone they had resting on their neck- one of Elliott’s favorite places to bruise them. Bloodhound’s breath hitches when his hands slide over their pants-clad thighs, up to their waist as he starts to leave another bruise just under their ear.

Bloodhound snarls softly, running their nails over his scalp and one hand dragging down Elliott’s nape like he likes. He lets out the prettiest sound against their neck, his hips absentmindedly humping against them without thinking. They abuse this by dragging their nails down his back, grabbing his muscular ass and pressing him forward with each thrust so he’d properly dry hump them.

It sparks the reaction they crave, where Elliott lets out this beautiful, shaky, sharp whimper. His mouth trails back up, pressing kisses up their jawline until he can press their foreheads together.

Bloodhound takes the time to let their eyes remain half lidded to watch him. Elliott looked gorgeous, his hair a mess, brows furrowed and his eyes shut in concentration. His full lips are parted, letting their breath mingle in small pants puffing from his mouth. Something they can’t help but lean forward to kiss him to take his breaths.

Elliott moans into their mouth upon contact, one of his hands pressing to the counter, the other holding onto their waist to drag them closer to the edge. His hips are frantic, pounding against them as if he could fuck them through both their layers of clothing. It feels like he’s trying to, really. Bloodhound can feel every grind up against them, making their own breath strain as wetness builds up between their own legs from the consistent pressure on their clit.

Not to mention how much they adored to see him so desperate.

Their hands drag back up to his hair, pulling on his curls to break the kiss and watching as he follows the motion beautifully. “Fuck, Hound, baby- God, fuck- it's really- ah- it's so hot, it feels so hot, he-heavy-” He’s sobbing out so sweetly, his hips stuttering when they go for his exposed throat, dragging their double canines over the side of his neck and lightly biting down on him to leave a bruise.

Elliott sobs out, his hips slamming up against them and his hands falling to their ass. He practically yanks them to him, near making them get knocked off the counter. But they quickly figure out why when they’re halfway through sucking a dark bruise into his neck when they feel the wetness starting to seep into the front of their own pants-

Wait why can they feel it through their own pants?

Elliott’s still clinging to them, his body shaking and moans leaving his throat. His hips are still gently humping against them, his arms still locked, when normally by now he’d ease up and maybe be embarrassed.

“Elliott-” Bloodhound breathes out in his ear, causing him to turn his face into their neck. He’s whimpering something, his lips moving against their skin, but they can’t hear him quite well.

Not until he’s repeating the same phrase, so shaky and high pitched of; “Still cumming , oh-oh God, baby, fuck, s-still cumming, cumming, cumming, cumming-” In this string of desperation that makes Bloodhound’s breath catch.

It takes a total of thirty seconds until he can finally stop shaking. Elliott is falling to his knees; His entire body trembling and Bloodhound can smell how strong his scent lingers on them. It makes their mouth water, but even more so when they look down to see him sitting on his knees, thighs apart and head back. His face is flushed, lips parted and panting and his doe-like eyes half lidded looking up at them like they’re the only thing keeping him grounded.

If he wasn’t in such a desperate state, perhaps they’d toy with him like this. Make him beg for release. But as it appears right now, Elliott was cumming for a rather long time, and that alone warranted some looking into. And sadly, that did not involve seeing his resolve crumble and making him beg like a good boy.

Bloodhound’s eyes trail down his body, noticing that the wet spot isn’t just soaking a spot on the front of his pants, but instead almost as if someone had dumped a bottle full of water on his front- and Bloodhound’s for that matter.

Side effects-

“Houndie-” Elliott whimpers out, stopping Bloodhound’s staring as they shuffle off the counter. He immediately seeks their comfort, wrapping his arms around their leg and pressing his cheek to their outer thigh. Their breath hitches at the sight of him so close, but they gently rest their hand atop his head, using their nails to massage gently at his scalp.

“Shh, shh, you are alright, beloved, you are alright. Can you stand? Or crawl, perhaps?” Their last words are playful, warranting that beautiful smile to etch across Elliott’s face. More upturned on one side with his dimples creasing into his cheeks. And at first it seems he’s relaxed himself, especially when he murmurs a playful ’woof’ before his body trembles and a whimper erupts from his lips. “Perhaps I shall carry you?”

“N-no, no, I can do it, just- God, baby, I’m...I hate to say it, but I don’t think I-I'm close to done?” Elliott manages to get out, his tone breathless, his pupils blown huge when he turns his gaze up to them. Their heart constricts at how helpless he looks, but unfortunately it only turns Bloodhound on further to see him so desperate.

It’s a bit of a shaky walk back into Bloodhound’s bedroom. Immediately Elliott is flopped onto the bed, the furs cool against his overheated flesh. Bloodhound helps him to strip, removing their own boots and their ruined pants so they may sit in their boyshorts and sports bra with Elliott completely nude.

Bloodhound’s breath hitches when their eyes fall to his cock, already hard again and pressed against his abdomen. The head was red, flushed and peeking from his foreskin, but what really gets their attention is his balls.

They’re swollen, almost a handful each rather than as a whole. Gently, Bloodhound rests their cold fingertips over the flesh, their eyes flickering up to watch Elliott as he pants heavily and squirms like a dog in heat. Even going so far as to his hips humping upwards and a heavy glob of pre-cum to bead at the head of his cock.

Oh, he was getting affected hard.

Bloodhound had a feeling they wouldn’t be able to walk straight after this.

Running their fingertips along his cock, Elliott lets out a sound as if they would have been grabbing him fully. Sensitive, it seemed. Bloodhound fights a smile, gently grabbing his cock beneath the head and smearing the pre-cum with their thumb with a soft coo arising from them, ”You are so wet, my love.”

Elliott makes a strained sound in his throat, his hips thrusting up into their loose grip and sobbing out something incoherent. He’s a mess, panting and starting to look more flushed by the second. And judging by the way his abdomen is tightening, they can only guess how sensitive he was.

Yes, this was going to be a long session. It appeared the pollen he’d inhaled worked more like a ‘sex pollen’ on him, something that should only effect beasts with outer genitalia that came across the plant. Working like an aphrodisiac, for beasts it made their stamina much longer, including their...their sperm count to be higher, resulting in swollen looking testicles and an insatiable need to breed their mates.

Bloodhound swallows, their mouth already feeling dry at the idea of Elliott trying to breed them. It makes their thighs press closer together, a shaky breath leaving them as they try to compose themself in order to take care of him.

They only get to pump his cock a few times before Elliott’s scrambling for them, whimpering about something frantically that sounds a lot like he’s mumbling, “Need to taste you, need you, baby, I need you-” But they can hardly make it out over the sound of their own yelp when he’s flipping them.

He’s at least got enough coherency to pause when he hooks his fingers around their underwear, waiting until they give their consent before he‘ s quick to tug their boyshorts off. He sits back between their spread thighs with this starving look in his eyes as they rake across their form. Flustered at the attention and control being tugged out from under them, Bloodhound’s face flushes and a soft growl of his name starts to arise as they bristle and lean up on their elbows.

“R-right!” He manages to get out, immediately moving to lie on his abdomen, hooking his arms under their powerful thighs and nuzzling at their red curls between their thighs.

Normally, Elliott was a starving man between their thighs, always a mess of humping the bed and moaning into them as if they tasted divine. And now is no different; His tongue desperately licking up their cunt to their fat, engorged clit, lapping at it and letting his tongue rest just underneath to feel them throb in anticipation.

It’s with another snarl and Bloodhound’s hand pressing at the back of his head does Elliott wrap his lips around their enlarged clit, suckling how they liked and making their head toss to the side. A moan blossoms from their chest, their hips tilting upwards when his tongue frantically dips down to their hole to lick up the wetness seeping from them. But then he’s pulling back briefly, pressing his nose to their mound just above their clit and inhaling their scent, letting his nose nuzzle at their clit in a way that makes Bloodhound gasp out.

“You smell so good, baby, can’t get enough-” Elliott is just about moaning into them, his words causing their ears to burn red and for them to bite their bottom lip at the attention. Bloodhound starts to growl out something in reply, maybe for him to focus on his meal rather than speaking, but then he’s continuing with a low voice, “Want to fill you full of pups. Would you like that, puppy? Want to be filled?”

That...

That is most certainly new.

Bloodhound’s body betrays their thoughts when their clit jerks heavily and a fresh wave of slick seeps out of them. Their face burns, their body desperately aching in ways they didn’t think they’d ever experienced before. They can feel their pulse in their clit when Elliott lets out this low moan of appreciation, wrapping his lips around it and moaning into them as if even the thought of breeding them was too much to bear.

Bloodhound cums in record time, fingers scrabbling to hold Elliott’s hair as huffing, small growls come out with every breath. Their brows are knitted, their head thrown back and full lips parted to pant heavily. They’re almost dizzy from the orgasm, managing to make enough sense to feel Elliott’s fingers pressing into them. Two fingers go in with ease, curling up expertly into their g-spot and making their head throw to the side with a cry of, “Elliott!” Leaving them in a desperate tone.

“Fuck, yes, keep crying like that, sweetheart.” Elliott’s voice is thick with lust, something they think they’d only ever heard when he was on his knees and woofing like a dog for them.

To see him- to feel him take control even in a state like this? Bloodhound isn’t too sure how to feel quite yet about their lack of control on him but oh, oh if he keeps moving his fingers like that-

“Good pup, let me stretch out your sweet little cunt so I can breed you so full, you’re gonna feel so good on my cock-” Elliott breathes against them, his tone desperate and tinging on a whine, licking flatly over their clit and making their hips jerk. Bloodhound doesn’t think they can get any redder at this point from his filthy mouth. Even more so when they feel him nuzzle at their mound just to hear him inhale their scent as his fingers curl upwards and fuck into them.

Their second orgasm comes quick, fit with them snarling and their eyes flashing a glowing red without their permission. Every sense is enhanced, the scent of Elliott, the scent of themself, the feeling of him touching their body, every sound made, their vision black and white and Elliott’s body highlighted in glowing red. The feeling of his fingers pounding into them is almost too much again, a whimper sharply leaving their throat just as Elliott pulls his fingers out and sits up.

He uses their slick to lubricate his own cock, the sight sending a possessive feeling through their body resulting in a low, rolling snarl. They go to move, to maybe sit up and shove him down, to take back their control that they had lost- but that’s quickly cut off when he’s rolling them onto their abdomen. He’s yanking their hips up until they’re forced to brace their upper body by crossing their arms on a pillow and resting their head on their forearms.

“Elliott-” They manage to choke out when he’s taking his cock and sliding the head a few times over their lower lips and over their clit. Bloodhound’s body is tensed, feeling the press into them and their mouth falls open to let out a cry when he sinks home into them in one, clean thrust.

It’s as if Elliott’s body had only enough in of himself to remember foreplay for them before the storm hits. Because he’s grabbing onto their hips, tugging them back in a way he’s never done before, fucking into them with harsh thrusts. His balls, as engorged and heavy as they are, slap forward against them and cause consistent stimulation that has Bloodhound’s nails sinking into their own arms. They move their mouth to press against their own flesh, trying to muffle the pathetic sounds erupting from their chest.

Normally, they had the control in the bedroom. Even in positions like this, they would talk Elliott through it, call him their dog or how pathetic he sounded. Or ride him and hold their hands over his throat, or yank his hair back and force him to cry out.

The control they had was for their own comfort, always so nervous to give it up. On the nights Elliott could gently coax them to, it was with gentle words and nudges.

They...they think they prefer when he just takes it like this.

There’s no thinking as Elliott fucks into their body. He’s vocal, as always, moaning behind them and filth spilling out of, “Want me to cum inside you, baby?” Which Bloodhound keens in response to without thinking, their hips pressing back into a thrust and that seems to do it.

Again, in record time, Elliott is cumming. His nails dragging into their thighs until he falls forward to hook his arms around them tightly. He trembles as he cums inside of them, and they quickly figure out that Elliott did in fact get the same results that a beast might. Because they’re feeling fuller...and fuller...and fuller by the second.

So much so that when Elliott pulls his hips back in the slightest, cum comes spilling out and down their thighs messily. Bloodhound can’t help but lift their hips a bit to their best of ability, peeking down to watch it trail messily down with a low groan.

It’s when Elliott runs his fingers through it and brings them to Bloodhound’s lips do they really think he’s being swayed even further by the pollen. When they don’t immediately take him up on the offering, his fingers grab their long hair into a ponytail, pulling it and effectively making their head come up with a matching snarl erupting from their lips.

And that’s when they part their lips, allowing for him to smear his cum on their split, pierced tongue with a satisfied groan of, “Good dog.” Cooing from his lips. Fit with his fingers messily dragging down the corner of their mouth as if to smear it on their face.

From there, it’s a blur. At some point Elliott’s managed to take off Bloodhound’s sports bra to leave them in nothing, moving them around again and again. So many different positions they wind up in- bent over the bed, on top of Elliott and riding him with his hips slamming up into them, to on their side with their leg thrown over his shoulder and their snarling and growling ending up slowly turning to weak moans and cries, their voice growing hoarse. To them riding him again, their arms pulled behind their back and angling their body just so Elliott could fuck up into them like a toy.

They’ve both cum so many times, Bloodhound’s lost count. Only feeling fuller by the minute, the taste of his cum lingering on their tongue from every time he’s shoved his fingers into their mouth eagerly.

Now Elliott has them with their back to his chest, one arm tossed around his shoulders and one of his own arms tucked around their waist to hold them. His other hand had been grabbing their jaw, forcing them to watch their own shaky body get fucked by him. “Look at you, Houndie, so good for me. My good dog. You're gonna be so cute all swollen, hm?”

Bloodhound had sobbed out, eyes near about rolling as another weak orgasm wracked their own frame. The visuals and the scent too much, able to watch his fat cock slam into their cunt with their clit engorged and reddened jerking with each contraction. From this angle, they can see how his cock moves inside of them from the slight bump of their lower abdomen, to how messy their thighs are with cum and how strings of it are left connecting them to Elliott’s hips with each messy slap up against them.

Elliott’s beautiful moans in their ear are low when he scoops up a glob of cum on their thigh, dragging it to Bloodhound’s mouth to smear it all over their tongue again. They obey near instantly, sticking out their tongue to let him do so before swallowing with a whimper. They must do it too soon, because Elliott’s smearing the rest over the corner of their mouth, moving to cup their cheek this time and smearing it over their cheekbone as well.

“Nngh --” Bloodhound moans out, trying to turn their head to bury it into Elliott’s hair, but he quickly catches their jaw again, forcing them to keep watching as he fucks up into them.

“That’s it, good dog, take it, take it-” Elliott near about growls out, moving his hand from their jaw when they finally stay put. He moves it to grab at one of their breasts, thumbing a sensitive, pierced nipple just to make their cunt clench weakly. Before he’s splaying his hand out on their abdomen and cooing through desperate little moans, “G- gonna be the cutest mama. Gonna fill you fucking full, baby, make sure you’re full of pups w-with your cute little- ah- cunt--”

Bloodhound doesn’t think that either of them have any thoughts left. He’s almost frantic to breed them, but there’s something loving about the way he speaks the word ‘mama’. It could almost make them believe the effects were starting to wear off with how tenderly spoken it is. But, perhaps that is merely their own secret interest in perhaps having a child with him trying to emerge.

They must have turned their head, because Elliott’s got his hand back on their jaw to keep them watching. Bloodhound’s breathing so hard, panting and sobbing out by the time Elliott finally cums again. It must have been the twelfth time already, and they’d lost count of even their own.

He groans so beautifully in their ear, burying his face into their shoulder and clinging to them as he cums. And dutifully, Bloodhound watches as he does, burying himself to the hilt inside of them and watching his balls tighten, how cum dribbles out of them because it’s too much.

Bloodhound isn’t really too sure at what point they do finally pass out. But they wake up with possibly the most sleep they’d ever had in years, rested, sore, bruised, and...

Clean?

They’re still naked, a low groan leaving them as their eyes flutter open. They sit up to find their furs that had been on their bed are gone, possibly gone to be washed, and instead they are curled up in one of Elliott’s blankets that he leaves when their furs become too hot for him. Carefully, they roll to their side as they lie back down, finding said menace of a boyfriend passed out as well and cleaned up.

He must have had the time to wash them both off before he’d fallen asleep. How thoughtful.

Carefully moving once again, they scoot closer to Elliott to gently rest a hand on his head. Immediately he makes a soft, moaning sound, rolling over into them so he can wrap their arms around their waist and bury his face into their chest. Resulting in Bloodhound lying back on their back, playing with his hair in the morning light.

Perhaps they could keep a sampling of the pollen for more...experimentation.

If Elliott were to be interested in having another six hour long session.

Bloodhound’s lips flicker up into a small smile as a thought crosses their mind.

Perhaps Elliott would be interested in actually...trying for a child at some point. He had said he always wanted to be a stay at home father...

When they hear him snore against their chest, nosing his way back in with a comforted sigh, they can’t help how bright their heart feels at the idea.

#Miragehound #Bloodhound #Mirage #Apex legends #apex lemons #nsft #lemon #commissions #princess writing

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moonlightstars16 · 5 years ago

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Caring and Comfort

I want to thank @ponpasta for allowing me to write this one-shot biased of a beautiful piece of SU artwork. Created by said talented and skilled artist. I hope you’ll enjoy! ;) Here is the link to the fanart:

https://ponpasta.tumblr.com/post/617447303584825344/mods-are-asleep-hurry-post-nap

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The sun was setting on another beautiful day on Beach City. Some spent there days relax and enjoying the weekend. Some traveled, others shopped and most just took an extra hour or five to sleep in.

But not for Connie

Cram school was becoming more and more like a job. But she wasn’t going to give-up just because it got harder. She was a straight A student. Earning nothing less than that within her entire education so far. Was she pressured to be ‘perfect’?

Her parents knew she was a hard worker, always supporting and telling her it was okay to just do her best. So not by them. The school emphasized the importance of an education but gave even failing students the benefit of the doubt (to an extent but still). Not there either.

Connie wasn’t pressured by anyone or by anything to be a perfect student. She pressured herself. Why? Well she loved the praise she received when doing a great job. Plus colleges were more open to those who have good grades. She wanted to get into a good one. Jay Hawk university was a tough college to get into. Surely they wouldn’t expect anything less than perfection, right? And she certainly wasn’t going to allow one bad grade on her record.

So she worked herself to the bone. Dark circles under her eyes, Coffee nearby and loads of school work piled up around her. She did take her time to learn and absorb any new information correctly. Reviewing old info over and over as not to forget.

Then exams came around.

Tests were one thing. A simple full day reviewing and getting a jump start of the new material was easy. Exams? ... All hell broke loose. Her room was too small for all the extra desk space. The kitchen in her house had horrible lighting. The living room was too susceptible and cozy for her to loose focus easily. Heck, even the Buddy Budwick library had to many other students crammed in there to study. What she needed was a new place.

A certain beach house by the other side of a cliff.

Now it was stereotypical that girlfriends and boyfriends distracted each other when a certain test came up. However Steven knew how important school was for Connie. A new environment to study in was quite refreshing. So he agreed to let her study at his place. The waves were calming, the gems away on a Little Homeschool field trip and he was alone. It was a good setting for her to focus, from what he had looked up on the internet.

He cleared the table, made snacks and refreshments, a pillow for her to sit on in case the chair grew uncomfortable and even made a playlist for her to listen too. He even had bought extra paper, pens/mechanical pencils, erasers, highlighters and sticky notes just in case. Soon Connie had arrived and was walking up the front door steps. Note cards in hand, pushing them into her pockets.

“Hi Connie, come on in.” Steven held the door wide open for her.

“Hi Steven, thank you so much for letting me study here.” Connie paused and gasped with a blush as she saw the array of snacks and study supplies on the table. “You did all this for me?”

“Of course, I know this is a stressful time for you. So I wanted to make sure you were prepared.” Steven ran a hand behind the back of his head whilst explaining to her. Watching as she smiled brightly and set her bag down. Throwing herself in his embrace as her arms wrapped around his neck. Pecking his lips a couple of times with gratitude.

“I can’t thank you enough!” A second later she was pulling out her laptop, books, notes she had taken, etc. Steven chuckled at the sight and sighed. Looking at her while she set up her workspace. Then walking over as she sat down, cradling her cheek and turned her gently(with permission) so her eyes were on him; placing a gentle kiss on her lips briefly.

“I’ll be upstairs if you need anything. Take all the time you need.” With another peck on her cheek he walked upstairs and began to play some old video games. Taking some much needed “me-time” for himself. Connie instantly began her work. Starting with what she was going over while on her way here.

Hours had passed. Steven only went down once to get a drink, some snacks himself and to use the bathroom. Making sure to be quiet as Connie seemed to be in her own private world. He adored her perseverance, yet hated to see her over-working herself. Some of her behaviors were almost identical to his own when he ran Little Homeschool. It took a snow day with his family, and a good heart to heart, to remind himself to slow down and relax.

Still he didn’t want to break her concentration. This was her exams she was studying for after all. However he didn’t want the matter to slide. So he began to plan out a day for the two of them to relax and enjoy the day. No school, no work, just fun times like they did years ago. Once back upstairs he took out an old journal and began to write a few ideas for what they would do together.

By the time Steven was done, it was around seven o’clock in the evening. It seemed like a good idea to check on how she was doing. Ordering their favorite pizza was another good idea. However what he saw downstairs surprised him. Connie had her arms folded on the table and her head rested on top. Face hidden in her notes.

Reaching out he placed his hand on her shoulder. Only to be met with her head jerking up and a face covered in tears. Eyes swollen red and a bit puffy. It broke his heart to see her like this. Pulling up a chair to sit beside her using his thumb to brush away her tears.

“Connie, what’s wrong?”

“I-I can’t seem t-to retain aany m-more i-i-information!” She sniffed closing her eyes, head bowing in shame as Steven pulled her close. Her head on his shoulder her arms drooping to the floor. One hand on her waist, the other stroking her hair as he felt how much her entire body ached.

“It’s okay Connie, you learned a lot and I know you can pass this exam.”

“No! I need to learn everything! I have to get an A on this exam and be perfect! I have to be prefect!” By the time she had begun venting, fresh, hot tears fell as her arms clutched onto the front of his infamous black and yellow star shirt.

“What do you mean ‘you have to be perfect’? You don’t have to be anyone but yourself Connie.”

“I’ll be a failure!....I don’t-.... I can’t-... I’m so scared Steven! What if I get rejected by Jay Hawk?! What if I don’t get into a good college?! What am I going to do if that happens?! ....I....I don’t want to fail Steven....I can’t afford to fail...” With every claim and question that came from her lips, he only held her tighter.

This was his beloved Connie. His best friend, his teammate, his jam bud. It was only natural for her to feel this way. But hearing it from her right now broke his heart in pieces like a shattered gem. With determination in his heart, he kissed the top of her head before responding.

“Shh.... listen to me Connie. I know you are a very intelligent woman. You can get those A’s because you have applied herself a lot more than anyone I’ve ever seen. However you do not need to be perfect to be who you are. If Jay Hawk rejects you, then it’s there loss. There are so many colleges out there who would love to have you as their student.

Connie, Garnet may know the future, but even she has trouble seeing unforeseen possibilities. It’s okay to be scared, but it’s even better to know you have people like your parents, friends, the gems, my dad, myself and many others. We are here for you like you were here for me. I’m going to do the same thing for you.”

“Will you still love me?” Her voice was so quiet yet he smiled and rested his head on top of hers.

“Of course, silly. I will always love you no matter what. Even if you over work yourself.” He smiled more upon hearing her faint giggling, soon followed by a yawn.

“I love you, Steven...” She yawned again. “I’m so...tired.” With another yawn coming out, Steven picked her up in his arms and carried her upstairs. Humming a gentle tune, lulling her to sleep. It didn’t take long for her to begin falling asleep. In fact it was the quickest time he ever saw her doing so. They had so much more to talk about but for now, sleep was more important.

Once in his room he slid himself and her in the bed. Pulling the comforter over them both. Watching as she snuggled into his chest. Himself running his hand through her soft curls. Ending his sweet and serene lullaby for her. Whispering one last thing to her. One phrase he will continue to say forever.

“I love you too, my beloved Connie.”

#connverse #connie maheswaran #steven universe #steven universe future #steven and connie #stevenxconnie #fluff #one-shot #fanart #caring and comfort #connverse one shot

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jeffverse · 4 years ago

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Chocolate Cake

Hello jeffverse fandom, since yesterday you guys said you wanted us to post some of our stories, I've decided to go ahead and drop one for y'all! Something short and cute featuring a much younger Abbot and Pirate :) enjoy!

-Mod CC

March thirteenth, 2011.

Liu walked faster as he approached his home. It was a small, rundown house, barely big enough for his three-person family, but still. It was home. Normally Liu would take his time walking home. It was the only time he could be alone, without his mother looming over him or his little brother clinging to his side. But today? Today he needed to be home quick.

Today was his little brother’s eight birthday.

‘’Mom, I’m home.’’ he took off his oversized coat, hanging it up by the door, and shrugged off his backpack. Inside the house was cold- maybe he should have kept his jacket on. He stepped over toward the living room and poked his head into the doorway. ‘’Mom…?’’ His mother was sat across the room in her old recliner in front of the TV. He couldn’t see her face. Just thick black curls. ‘’Mom! I’m home!’’

‘’Hmmm…?’’ Finally, she seemed to hear him. She turned, looking at her son. Despite how young her children were, Liu’s mother looked very old. Her face was pale and sunken, her eyes always wide and worried looking. She had wrinkles, a lot of them, and the black frilled dress she was wearing didn’t help to make her look any younger. She had the health of someone much older than her too. Early arthritis, memory problems, depression and of course, the hearing problems. Ran in the family blood. All of it. ‘’Hello, Liu dear…’’ she called softly, sitting up in her chair slowly. Every movement seemed like a strain on her body. Like a machine that was breaking down. ‘’How are you…?’’

‘’Alright.’’ the boy replied.

‘’How was school…?’’

‘’Alright.’’

‘’Good…’’ she hummed and nodded, staring at him for a few long moments before turning back in her chair and sighing. ‘’Don’t forget...we’re going to see your father later.’’

‘’Alright, mom.’’ Liu replied softly. He walked back into the hall and crouched by his school bag. He unzipped it as quietly as possible and pulled out the thing he’d hidden inside, cradling it in his hands like it was fragile china.

A single slice of chocolate cake, inside a plastic container. Store bought. He stood up and slowly walked across the house, keeping the cake close to him. Though he doubted his mom would get up and leave the living room, he still didn’t want to risk her finding what he had. He stopped outside his brother’s room and knocked on the door five times. His own rhythm, to make sure he knew who was outside. He opened the door and poked his head inside.

The room was small, the smallest in the house besides the bathroom. The walls were a faded, depressing blue, with a single window on one of the walls. It was hard to tell it was a child’s room. Crosses hung on the walls, and the bookshelf had a mix of regular kid’s books and large tomes that were far above an eight year old’s reading level. The toys scattered around the room and sitting on shelves were old. Second-hand pass-me-downs that showed their age far too clearly. Everything seemed drab and depressing, except for the small boy sitting hunched over a coloring book in the center of the room.

He was dressed in a clean white t-shirt and baby-blue jeans tucked up around his waist. He was pale as porcelain, with wavy white hair that hung around his shoulders. He turned, blinking in surprise. Even from across the room, Liu could see his two big doe eyes. They looked brown from the distance, rather than the red they were up close. The boy broke into a grin, sitting up. ‘’Liu!!’’

‘’Hey buddy!’’ Liu called back softly as he walked over to Jeff. He smiled wide, hiding the cake behind his back as he crouched down. He pet the boy’s head lovingly. ‘’How’re you, huh?’’

‘’I’m good!’’ Jeff smiled up at his big brother. ‘’How was school?’’

‘’Fine, fine.’’ he shifted where he sat. ‘’Do you know what today is?’’ he asked. Jeff blinked, then frowned. Thinking.

‘’Um…’’ he looked up at him. ‘’We’re going to see daddy’s grave?’’

Liu sighed gently. ‘’No, no,’’ Jeff frowned. ‘’It’s your birthday, bud!’’

Jeff’s eyes lit up and he blinked, mouth agape. ‘’It is?’’

Liu laughed and pet the boy’s head again. ‘’Mhm.’’ he tilted his head. ‘’Do you know how old you are?’’

‘’Ummmm….’’ Jeff opened his mouth, then frowned again in thought. He held up his hand, quietly counting out under his breath. ‘’Um- I’m- I’m eight! Right?’’

‘’Yeah!’’ Liu clapped quietly, like he was congratulating the boy. ‘’You’re eight now!’’ Jeff grinned wide at him, patting his hands against his lap excitedly. Liu reached behind him, finally showing his little brother the slice of cake. ‘’I got you something.’’ Jeff gasped, eyes lighting up. He reached for the cake, only for Liu to pull back. ‘’Ah! Hey, not yet!’’

‘’Sorry…’’

Liu smiled at him gently and opened the plastic casing. ‘’Let me sing you happy birthday first, okay? Then you can dig in.’’ he said softly as he handed his brother a plastic fork. Jeff’s smile returned and he nodded eagerly. Liu took a deep breath, then held up the cake.

‘’Happy birthday to you….happy birthday to you...happy birthday dear Jeffrey...happy birthday….to you.’’

Liu held up the cake to his brother’s face and smiled. ‘’You can eat now.’’

Jeff squealed excitedly and speared a piece of cake with the fork. Liu watched him excitedly devour half the cake before Jeff looked up at him again. He swallowed the piece in his mouth. ‘’Liu, do you want some?’’

Liu looked at him in surprise before softening and shaking his head. ‘’Hey, no. It’s your birthday cake. I’d feel bad taking any-’’ he replied quickly. Jeff shook his head and grabbed another piece of cake, holding the fork up to his brother’s face. ‘’Jeff-’’ he tried to pull away, but the younger boy only whined unhappily and jabbed the fork closer. Liu glared at him for a moment before sighing. ‘’...fine.’’

Jeff smiled happily as his brother ate the piece and he looked down at the cake again. ‘’Do you want more or-’’

‘’No, Jeff.’’ Liu cut in. ‘’Just eat your cake, bud. Please.’’

‘’Alright…’’ Jeff took the rest of the cake from him and calmly ate it. Liu watched him scrape up every last crumb and wipe off every stray splotch of chocolate icing, savoring every last bit of the cake. He put his fork back in the plastic case and set it down on the floor. ‘’Done.’’ he said politely, looking up at his big brother with a smile.

Liu smiled gently. ‘’You liked that?’’ he asked. Jeff nodded happily. ‘’Good. Now,’’ Liu cupped the boy’s face in his palm, then licked his thumb. Jeff whined as his big brother rubbed chocolate icing off his face. ‘’You’re such a messy eater...’’ he chided softly as he used his sleeve to clean the other side of his face, and then the tip of his nose which had somehow gotten chocolate on it too. ‘’There. Done.’’ he pulled away and smiled at him. Jeff shook his head, blinked, then smiled innocently up at his big brother.

‘’Thank you Liu…’’ he murmured softly. Liu sighed out fondly and pet the boy’s head.

‘’It’s nothing. Happy birthday, Jeff.’’ he murmured with a smile.

#mod cc #by cc #writing #pirate tag #abbot tag #jeff the killer #liu woods #jeffverse #creepypasta #creepypasta writing

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chouetteffraie · 5 years ago

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Trick or Treat, Dazai-san? [Dazatsu Halloween Week, Day 7]

FINALLY! I’m cutting it pretty close but I actually finished a ship week and I only want to throw two of my “entries” into a pit of flames!! Wow!!

This one was the one I was most excited for tbh- I’m so happy to have it done! I hope you all like it, hopefully it isn’t too ooc~

and finally, after all the angsting I did, it’s fluff!

thank you so much to mod mango, mod cherish and mod datura of @dazatsu-fest for making this event possible! I had tons of fun and I’m super happy I was able to participate! anyway stan dazatsu for clean skin xoxo

Day 7 - Free Day

Today was the day. He hated to sound like Kunikida, but Dazai couldn’t help but praise himself with his amazing plan. Halloween was the ideal time for everything to take place- after all, it was the second best holiday for playing tricks, providing him with an easy cover should anything go wrong. Not that it would: he had spent many sleepless nights going over the details of his plan, planning for every setback and how to recover for them. In recent events, he spent his nights at his kitchen table, using the dim lighting to put together a few props to aid him in his efforts, including baking and making sure he got everything just right. Despite what little time for sleep that left him, Dazai skipped out of his dorm that day with more pep than he could remember feeling...well, ever. With his little bag of tricks securely in his hand, he made his way to the agency, hoping his rare punctuality would keep Kunikida off his case long enough to bring home a success.

He should have known that was all wishful thinking, however.

Despite Dazai allowing himself the rare luxury of getting excited for the holiday, he knew there was nothing special about Halloween, especially not this one. Aside from his own preconceived expectations, nothing was set to happen. There was no party he’d be attending, no trick or treat he planned to participate in, which meant there was no reason for Atsushi to be looking so exceptionally pretty.

Dazai had managed to beat him to the office, a fact that made Kunikida raise a brow but hold his tongue for gear of jinxing it. When the door swept open again, Atsushi was chatting with Kyouka, adorned in the jacket the agency had teamed up and purchased him for his first autumn with them. He had taken good care of it, not a stain to be found on the brown coat. He had it unzipped- weather it was from a rushed morning or because it wasn’t quite cold enough to be completely bundled up, Dazai couldn’t tell- and easily slipped it off his shoulders when he walked into the warm office. Dazai’s breath caught in his throat- a sensation only familiar when he was around Atsushi- and he followed Atsushi’s path to his desk with his eyes.

Once Atsushi was settled, Dazai felt as if all eyes were on him. A quick glance around the office proved him wrong- save for Ranpo, which he took care of with a sharp glare. Gathering himself, Dazai reached in his bag and pulled out his first weapon.

“Atsushi-kun,” Dazai started quietly. Atsushi perked up and turned to face his mentor, a smile already brightening up the room.

“Ah, Dazai-san! Good morning,” He said cheerfully. “Can I help you?”

For a moment, considered backing out, saving his pride and not daring to risk any relationship he had worked so hard to build up to this point. He knew Ranpo was eavesdropping, however, and he blamed the thought of his endless ridicule for giving him an extra push of courage.

“These are for you. Happy Halloween.”

Atsushi looked down at the plate, confused. It took much longer for his face to change, much too long for Dazai’s liking. While Atsushi inspected the treats in front of him, Dazai wanted to complain about holding his arms out or something, anything to speed up Atsushi’s judgement. When his answer finally did come, however, Dazai felt like curling up into a ball and disappearing.

“...Why?” Atsushi asked innocently as he took the plate, picking up a heart-shaped cookie with unnaturally orange frosting. He must have seen Dazai’s crestfallen expression because he opened his mouth to say something, but Dazai beat him to it.

“I couldn’t sleep last night. I guess I was just bored and thought you might like them,” he answered, turning his head to look at the paper on his desk. Suddenly, all the plans he had for the day didn’t seem as possible.

“I-I do like them! Really,” Atsushi responded, cheeks dusted red as he tried to save himself. “I just meant- why the hearts?”

Dazai chuckled to himself. “It was the only cookie cutter I had.”

“O-oh,” Atsushi responded dumbly, looking at the plates with a face still aflame. Slowly, he took a bite of one of the cookies, carefully watching himself for any accidental hints of displeasure. “Wow! These are really good! Would you like one, Dazai-san?”

With the plate held out in front of his face, Dazai was hit with how stupid his idea was. The frosting smelled entirely too sweet this close to his face, and he carefully pushed the plate away. “Be careful not to make yourself sick,” he advised instead before pushing his chair back to leave.

—-

By the time lunchtime had arrived (and after a few pep talks), Dazai had convinced himself to rebound. He texted Atsushi, asking him about his lunch plans, before offering him a bowl of the chazuke he had when they first met. It wasn’t meant to be romantic- it was merely the closest and cheapest he knew Atsushi liked- but if it would gain him brownie points he wasn’t going to turn those down. Transporting it was a pain (he was lucky enough to have convinced the tea house to let him take the whole meal with him), but when he placed it on Atsushi’s desk, he sighed in relief. Finally, he took his next trick out of his pocket and taped it to the doorway, standing beneath it and waiting for his target.

When he saw Atsushi make his way down the hall, he didn’t need to put much effort into welcoming him with a smile. Atsushi returned the gesture and stopped directly in front of Dazai, just like he planned.

“Dazai-san, if for some reason you feel bad for this morning...I didn’t mean to sound rude or ungrateful…” Atsushi started, but Dazai’s hand halted him in his tracks.

“The only thing I’m sorry for is the stomach ache I may have inadvertently caused. We can’t have you running around the city with an upset stomach, now can we?” Dazai asked.

“Oh, is that why you offered to buy lunch?” Atsushi asked.

“Well, that, and it’s been a while since I’ve checked up on favorite subordinate. I thought it’d be nice to catch up, just you and me.”

For a moment, Dazai swore he saw panic flash in Atushsi’s eyes before they started darting around anxiously. “Ah- well….hey, what’s that?” He asked, eyes glued above him to the top of the doorway.

Perfect.

“Oh, it’s homemade mistletoe!” Dazai responded, leaning down for emphasis. “I made it myself. Pretty clever, right?”

Atsushi reached up to gently touch the fake cobwebs Dazai messily tied together, small spider beads acting as the berries that would normally be on the plant. He had to strain to reach the decoration, bringing his face even closer to Dazai’s. Feeling his heart skip a beat, Dazai began slowly inching closer, hoping he could catch Atsushi’s attention somehow and close the gap. Finally, Atsushi caught his eyes and watched him. Dazai swore he saw his eyes trail down and linger right where he wanted them to, and there was only one way to find out...

“Isn’t that a Christmas tradition?” Kyouka asked suddenly, startling both men and staring pointedly at the fake mistletoe. Dazai shot up, his back cracking in protest. A yelp drowned out the sound, one that must’ve come from Atsushi judging from the bewildered expression on his face. Kyouka seemed to realize just what she had interrupted and looked between them apologetically.

“Kyouka-chan, you’re just in time. I was just letting Atsushi know your lunch is on my desk.”

“What?” Atsushi asked, voice strained. “But I thought you said-”

“I just remembered, I have some work to do with Kunikida. I’m already late, but he should expect that by now. Enjoy your meal,” Dazai answered quickly. He could hear a dejected murmur of his name behind him, but nobody bothered to follow after him as he briskly walked away. Once he was sure neither of the pair could see him, he ducked his head and hid his hands away in his pockets, fingers anxiously fidgeting and brushing against each other.

Another plan down the drain.

—-

It was getting dark. Allowing his shoes to scuff on the sidewalk, Dazai walked with his head down low. The autumn air was chilly, enough to push past his coat and sink into his bones. Or maybe that was the loneliness. It was getting hard to differentiate the two.

Atsushi was back at the agency with the others, having been invited to go around town and see what kind of trouble they could stir up. Dazai had been invited, too, and it seemed like the kind of celebration that was right up his alley, yet he refused. He didn’t think he could take another defeat.

Above him, the starless sky stared blankly at his pathetic form, mocking him. Not even the stars would stick with him and comfort him in his time of his need. A bittersweet smile stretching across his face, Dazai tilted his head back to face the universe and its punishment. Was this his trial? For all his crimes, was he forced to suffer through a heart attack every time Atsushi came near him? Was the sudden onslaught of uncertainty to plague him forever? He didn’t know.

If he were smarter, he’d have pushed Atsushi away from the beginning. He got too attached too quickly, too focused on that familiar reverence for life to let Atsushi go. Even when he was told that he was a good person, that Atsushi wanted to stay with him, he couldn’t believe it. Why was there someone here, someone who seemed so similar to a past friend so precious, who was willing to stay? It was all coming too easy to him, and it would be just as easy to lose. Yet he wanted to indulge.

Dazai wasn’t sure which he should do: curse the universe for making these feelings so easy to catch and easier to lose, or laugh at the universe fooling him into thinking he’d ever have a chance at truly fostering them?

It hurt. It hurt to know that he really wanted to try and do better for Atsushi. It hurt to know that he had a chance to have someone who would help him navigate a path he barely knew how to follow, and yet it wasn’t his to take. It hurt to know that he was willing to try anyway and had failed.

Dazai could barely take the pain in his gut from thinking it all over.

Thankfully, hurried footsteps behind him drew his attention away from his mind. Turning, Dazai found his relief was short-lived when he saw a flash of silver running towards him. Glancing around out of the corner of his eyes, Dazai saw there was nowhere to run and straightened out his act, putting on a brave face.

Atsushi was huffing and puffing by the time he got to Dazai, pausing to bend over and grab his knees in order to stop them from wobbling, Dazai waited patiently until Atsushi stood straight up again, face flushed from the running, before he said, “What brings you here? I thought you were celebrating.”

“Why aren’t you with us?” Atsushi demanded, voice still feathery. Always straight to the point, Dazai thought. He allowed the silence to stretch on for a moment, more to sort his own feelings out than force Atsushi to suffer through some suspense.

“I decided to turn in early,” Dazai answered with a shrug. Atsushi didn’t believe his excuse for a moment, his skepticism shown clearly in the glare he offered Dazai. At this point, though, he knew there was no winning in a stare-off, so he sighed instead.

“You know, you celebrate Halloween in all kinds of crazy ways. I don’t expect any less,” He started. Dazai fought back the urge to cringe as Atsushi continued. “Except...you forgot one thing.”

“Like what?” Dazai asked. Atsushi clasped his hands behind his back.

“Trick or treat, Dazai-san?” He asked. With his head tilted as he rocked back and forth on his heels, Atsushi looked more adorable than ever. Watching him for a moment, Dazai found a strange peace within him. Even if his attempts failed before he even really got to try, at least Atsushi wasn’t leaving him.

Maybe it was better this way.

Atsushi was clearly expecting an answer, though, so Dazai shrugged again before turning to face him fully. “I don’t think that’s a question people expect an actual answer to.”

“Well, I am,” Atsushi demanded, taking a step closer to Dazai. For the second time that day, they were much closer than what was appropriate, though neither of them could feel the other’s breath against their skin or hear the nervous, frantic beat of their hearts. “So, which is it? Trick or treat?”

“You know what? Trick me, Atsushi-kun.”

Dazai expected him to say something cruel, to pretend he shared Dazai’s feelings and force Dazai to live a lie of not caring that it was fake. Instead, he got a soft laugh. “I feel like I’ve been doing that all day, since I’ve been inadvertently ignoring your advances.”

Dazai didn’t let his expression change, though Atsushi could see how it hardened and he forced it to stay in place. “I knew what you were trying to do all day. I just...got nervous. And then you always changed your story, so I never thought I was right but...I’ve been turning you down all day before you even got to confess, huh?”

As if to prove his point, Atsushi put one hand on Dazai’s shoulder and used it as leverage to lift himself up, pressing his lips to Dazai’s cheek faster than Dazai could process it. Atsushi’s other hand slipped the fake spider mistletoe Dazai had made into Dazai’s before he stepped away, flustered. “I-I hope you don’t mind. That’s the only treat I have to make it up to you.”

Dazai blinked once, twice, starstuck and numb, before he finally let himself smile and laugh. “Atsushi-kun is a big bully, eh? He’s so mean to his elders!”

Almost immediately, Atsushi started stammering again, trying to find a way to defend himself from Dazai’s teasing. His already pink face slowly darkened as he stuttered through his words, occasional accusations of “You’re so mean!” and protests of “That’s not what I’m doing!” making it past. As Dazai walked home with Atsushi’s indignance in his ear, he relished in the fact that at least he was not the only one rendered useless by the other’s presence.

#dazatsu #dazushi #dazatsu halloween week #dazatsu halloweenweek #dazatsuhalloween #dazatsuhalloweenweek #dazai x atsushi #bsd #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #dazai #atsushi #dazai osamu #osamu dazai #atsushi nakajima #nakajima atsushi #my stuff #my stuff dazatsu #my stuff bsd

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continuouscalamity · 6 years ago

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CHAPTER 1 TRIAL TRANSCRIPT

Ding! Dong! Ding!

"Alright, ya filthy worms-- it's trial time! Quit yer teen drama and blubberin' and head down to the first floor in the foyer! Oink, I'll go from there, ya hear!? Oink!"

TRIAL 1 - BEGINNING

[Trial chart done by Mod War]

[3:18 PM] Monoboar!: As you all crowd into the elevator and the doors shut behind you, the noise of the elevator slowly descending down rings in your ears, the low, ominous hum of everything moving around you.

The more you descend, the more it dawns on you-- someone had truly died... someone who was a beacon of light, a light that someone had taken upon them to snuff out.

While you're scared, you can guess what could happen now... in this deadly class trial...!

....

The elevator finally stops to it's destination, revealing a large trial room, with stands all in a circle. One stand in particular only dons a portrait of the late Akihiko Oshiro, a grim reminder of what you're all here for. [3:19 PM] Monoboar!: @Alive (You may have walk to their stands.) [3:20 PM] Lake Kawaguchi | Trial: ...Lake reluctantly let go of Hazel and Wilma's hands, looking at them both with a slightly tense expression. [3:21 PM] Wilma Ortega || foy air: "This is all mighty theatrical," Wilma says, with barely hidden disgust in her voice. She squeezes Lake's hand and lets go, walking to her own stand and examining it as if it was going to come to life and eat her. [3:21 PM] classical bishop sacrifice: Aderyn takes a shuddering breath as her eyes land on Akihiko's portrait. This was horrible. She walks around and finds a stand with her name on it, and silently and falls to a crouch at it, curled up in a ball. [3:21 PM] Willy | DDR King: Willy steps out and looks around the place whilst going to his stand. [3:21 PM] Riku Yasui...: Riku exited the elevator then quickly made his way to his stand. [3:21 PM] Eri [around]: Eri looks around the trial room before walking over to her stand. [3:21 PM] 🔫Artemis Black🔫| Sadness: Artemis cringes at the portrait, Akihko deserved much better than this. She scowled, a foul mood setting in anew as she took her stand. [3:21 PM] Cerviel Winter | Room: Cerviel walked in, arms wrapped carefully around himself. He stepped up to his stand and took a deep breath. [3:21 PM] Lake Kawaguchi | Trial: "...What the fuck are we doing here again?"

@Monoboar (Mars) [3:21 PM] Wallace Callaghan || Foyer: Wallace steps up to his stand like it's the most natural thing in the world. He surveys everyone around him as if it's actually a throne. [3:21 PM] Hana Minami! | I can';t: Hana stomps over to her stand and grips it tightly. "Okay," she begins, voice shaking ever so slightly. "whoever did this needs to tell me NOW so I can banish you from my kingdom forever and ever and EVER!" she yells. [3:22 PM] Wallace Callaghan || Foyer: Except he's next to Artemis. Which he isn't all that happy about. [3:22 PM] Rayne Maelstrom 👹 Investigation: Rayne walks to their stand. Hello [3:22 PM] Monoboar!: "Woah, woah!" Monoboar cuts in, appearing on a tall throne. "Lemme introduce the trial, you impatient worms!" [3:22 PM] Hana Minami! | I can';t: "SHUT UP! YOU SMELL LIKE A BARN! I HATE YOU!" [3:22 PM] Monoboar!: "Eh? Like that's an insult?" [3:22 PM] Monoboar!: "Anyways!" [3:22 PM] Keiko Taisei | Death time: She heads to her stand. "What's all this?" [3:23 PM] Lake Kawaguchi | Trial: Lake groaned. [3:23 PM] packie hayai 🌾 💤: Packie heads to his stand and avoids looking at Akihiro's portrait. I would too. [3:23 PM] Qiuyue Xu ♣ Foyer: Qiuyue at her stand. [3:23 PM] Hana Minami! | I can';t: "Yeah! It is! You look dumb and stupid! I hate you!" [3:23 PM] 🔫Artemis Black🔫| Sadness: Artemis gives Wallace a death glare. This is awful. [3:23 PM] Monoboar!: "All this is th' trial room! You gotta have a class trial to find out who did the dirty deed! Usin' the clues you found after th' crime, you gotta discuss it all here! 'Course, there's some certain limits-- jus' make sure you ain't talkin' over each other!" [3:24 PM] Keiko Taisei | Death time: Oh hi she's right across from Wallace. She gives him a look. :( [3:25 PM] Lake Kawaguchi | Trial: "...Why do we have to figure it out? You started this, you figure it out!" [3:25 PM] Cerviel Winter | Room: At least he was next to the One person he's really talked to. That's something. [3:25 PM] Lake Kawaguchi | Trial: Also, retcon. Lake's still holding Hazel's hand. [3:25 PM] Hana Minami! | I can';t: Hana's quiet for a minute, just frowning at the ground. [3:25 PM] Monoboar!: "Enough gab! Let's get this show on th' road!"

Slamming a gavel onto the arm of his chair, he officially declares the trial open for business.

"Let the trial for Akihiko Oshiro, Ultimate Lucky Student start!"

[GIF LINK]

[Sketch done by Mod Death, Finalization done by Mod War]

[3:26 PM] Lake Kawaguchi | Trial: "...That didn't answer my question!" [3:27 PM] Hana Minami! | I can';t: Hana hated what he just said. She hated hearing Aki's name come out of his mouth. She hated that THEY had to solve all this, and she hated that SHE had to witness it! "Just be quiet, stupid hog! Smelly pig! Just be quiet!" [3:27 PM] Hazel Hazeldine | 🔖: "S-So..." Hazel started, looking around at everyone. "...where should we start...?" [3:28 PM] Lake Kawaguchi | Trial: 'Ugh, not listening to it probably won't help, as much as I don't want to play detective when it should be left to professionals...' [3:29 PM] Lake Kawaguchi | Trial: "Um..." Lake coughed, "Don't they usually, um... talk about the... the body first in crime shows? Or what?" [3:29 PM] Hazel Hazeldine | 🔖: "That sounds smart, Lady of the Lake." Hazel nods. [3:30 PM] Hana Minami! | I can';t: Hana looks at Hazel sadly. [3:30 PM] Wallace Callaghan || Foyer: :cluebullet: "The victim received one stab wound to his lower back, and four to the chest," Wallace recited. "As far as I can tell, those were the only wounds." [3:31 PM] Lake Kawaguchi | Trial: "God..." Lake covered her mouth as she attempted to fight against the rock in her throat. [3:31 PM] classical bishop sacrifice: Aderyn winces. "T-Too much," she mumbles. "... One was enough..." She glares at the stand in front of her, feeling sick just hearing about it. [3:31 PM] Willy | DDR King: { "Like a slasher movie more than a detective show if you ask me..." } [3:31 PM] Hazel Hazeldine | 🔖: Hazel sniffles, trembling. [3:31 PM] Lake Kawaguchi | Trial: { "D-Don't even get me fucking started...!" } [3:31 PM] Wilma Ortega || foy air: Wilma frowns.

"I assume the one to the back was received while th' victim was...trying to escape." She says slowly. "Then the others to. Finish the job." [3:32 PM] Hana Minami! | I can';t: { "You all make me wanna tear out my hair!" } [3:32 PM] Riku Yasui...: :cluebullet: "His eyes were also red and puffy, as if he had been crying. There was also a distinct bloody handprint over his mouth." [3:32 PM] Lake Kawaguchi | Trial: Heavy breathing! [3:32 PM] Wilma Ortega || foy air: Wilma's frown morphs into a glare.

"Someone tried to stop 'im from calling for help." [3:32 PM] Hana Minami! | I can';t: Hana whined, covering her mouth. She didn't have anything to say. [3:32 PM] Hazel Hazeldine | 🔖: Hazel covers her mouth. [3:32 PM] Wallace Callaghan || Foyer: Wallace nods. :consentbullet: "I agree with Wilma. He received the stab to the back before the other wounds." [3:33 PM] Hana Minami! | I can';t: "Shut uuup...please..." [3:33 PM] Lake Kawaguchi | Trial: "H-How did you figure that out?" [3:33 PM] packie hayai 🌾 💤: Packie shakes his head, somehow surprised at how they could stomach that.

:cluebullet: "He wrote somethin' out from his blood, a dying message, most likely. But I can't remember what it said.." [3:34 PM] Hana Minami! | I can';t: Hana looked like she was in mortal anguish. [3:34 PM] Lake Kawaguchi | Trial: :consentbullet: "Yeah, I-I think it, um... kind of looked like a letter?" [3:34 PM] Wilma Ortega || foy air: "I remember." Wilma concurs. ":consentbullet: It was a V-shape, but it was kind of messed up. I don't know if that was the letter he was tryin' for." [3:35 PM] classical bishop sacrifice: Aderyn furrows her brows. "Like, maybe... M-Maybe a W, or... Or a Y? Or.. S-Something?" [3:35 PM] Hana Minami! | I can';t: "M-Maybe it was supposed to be someone's name?" [3:36 PM] Lake Kawaguchi | Trial: "No one here has a name starting with V, right...? Wait, was Oshiro-kun even familiar with the English alphabet?" [3:36 PM] Hazel Hazeldine | 🔖: Hazel feels like people are going a little off the rails a bit.. [3:36 PM] Hana Minami! | I can';t: Fuck. [3:37 PM] classical bishop sacrifice: "Wh- what else.. Is there?" Aderyn asks carefully. "Wha-- um, the," she takes a breath. "D-Do we have... um.. a mm-- murder. A murder weapon...?" [3:37 PM] 🔫Artemis Black🔫| Sadness: Artemis winced, crossing her arms. "I think I found it- [3:37 PM] Cerviel Winter | Room: Cerviel really wished he had actually investigated. [3:38 PM] Hazel Hazeldine | 🔖: Hazel looks at Artemis. "Hm...?" [3:38 PM] 🔫Artemis Black🔫| Sadness: :cluebullet: "There’s a knife that's a little fucky in the knife block in the kitchen. It was also a little wet." [3:38 PM] Hana Minami! | I can';t: Hana gripped the stand, frowning. [3:39 PM] classical bishop sacrifice: Aderyn looks at her. "A... l-little, little fuh-fucky...?" [3:39 PM] Lake Kawaguchi | Trial: "Someone probably washed it before quickly putting it back?" [3:39 PM] Hazel Hazeldine | 🔖: {"Uuuu..."} [3:39 PM] packie hayai 🌾 💤: :consentbullet: "It wasn't positioned correctly." [3:39 PM] 🔫Artemis Black🔫| Sadness: "What Pickle said." [3:40 PM] packie hayai 🌾 💤: {"Haha, don't call me that."} [3:40 PM] Lake Kawaguchi | Trial: "Oh, uh, by the way, before it's, like, too late to bring it up, I had a thought about the 'V' Oshiro-kun wrote..." [3:40 PM] Hazel Hazeldine | 🔖: "We're all fine... Lake..." [3:40 PM] Hazel Hazeldine | 🔖: "...but continue!" [3:41 PM] Hana Minami! | I can';t: {"I wanna go home already! I hate this stupid place!} [3:42 PM] Lake Kawaguchi | Trial: { "I feel you there, Minami-sama... Really do." } [3:42 PM] Lake Kawaguchi | Trial: "Just thought that maybe, instead of it actually being the English letter V, maybe it was meant to be like an arrow pointing at something?" [3:43 PM] classical bishop sacrifice: "Like, what?" [3:43 PM] Hana Minami! | I can';t: "Lake-chan! You're so smart!" [3:43 PM] Hazel Hazeldine | 🔖: Hazel squints. [3:44 PM] Willy | DDR King: "Was there something else on the balcony even?" [3:44 PM] Hazel Hazeldine | 🔖: The crime scene clue has not been brought up! [3:44 PM] Wallace Callaghan || Foyer: "It also might have been a different letter. One that he started to write, but didn't finish-- or failed to write, because he was dying. Like an A, a W, or a Y." Wallace crosses his arms. "Was this 'v' actually pointing towards anything in particular?" [3:45 PM] Riku Yasui...: :cluebullet: "The balcony still looks relevantly the same from the last time I seen it despite the body," [3:46 PM] Lake Kawaguchi | Trial: "Maybe it was pointing at something that wasn't on the balcony...? Might be a stretch, though..." [3:46 PM] Hazel Hazeldine | 🔖: "Is that all, Sir Riku?" Hazel asks. [3:47 PM] Riku Yasui...: :cluebullet: "Well the blood surrounding Aki himself is smudged, as if he had been squirming, but on his left side it seems like the blood had been pooling around something, or someone," Riku added. [3:47 PM] Hana Minami! | I can';t: {"Urgggh...I feel sick..."} [3:47 PM] Hazel Hazeldine | 🔖: "A-Ah...?" Hazel nearly bites at her nails nervously. "It had to be the killer.. of course..." [3:47 PM] classical bishop sacrifice: {"Aderyn winces. Squirming. "He... must've... s-suffered," she mumbles."} [3:48 PM] Hazel Hazeldine | 🔖: { Sob. } [3:48 PM] Keiko Taisei | Death time: {"There's no point in thinking about those things now. He is at peace.} [3:48 PM] 🔫Artemis Black🔫| Sadness: :consentbullet: "Shit! I remember seeing something that could be related to that!" [3:49 PM] Hana Minami! | I can';t: What Keiko said only made Hana's heart ache more. She just wanted to get out of this stupid trial already! Dumb place! Stupid people! Arggghhh! [3:51 PM] packie hayai 🌾 💤: :cluebullet: "There were some footprints from the stairs, it disappears at the foyer but it looks like it was going toward the kitchen." [3:51 PM] Lake Kawaguchi | Trial: :consentbullet: "Yeah, Hayai-kun. They looked like they were from bare feet, right?" [3:51 PM] Keiko Taisei | Death time: :consentbullet: "Yes, there was also a trail of blood drops leading to the kitchen as well. [3:52 PM] packie hayai 🌾 💤: :consentbullet: "Yeah. That's fucking gross also, why barefoot, but anyways." [3:52 PM] Lake Kawaguchi | Trial: "...Wait, why would someone be walking around with bare feet?!" [3:52 PM] Hazel Hazeldine | 🔖: "B-Barefoot?" Hazel asks. "Ew..." [3:52 PM] classical bishop sacrifice: Aderyn crosses her arms. "Smart enough to-- to take their stupid, stupid shoes off, to be, silent, I guess," she says. "Dumb, too d-dumb to fuh-fucking clean up," [3:53 PM] Lake Kawaguchi | Trial: "...Wait, maybe to, uh... Not really have identifiable footprints, too. Since, like, shoe soles." [3:53 PM] Wallace Callaghan || Foyer: "Perhaps the killer wanted to hide their footprints by going barefoot. If their shoes were to have a distinctive tread, it would be a clear giveaway." [3:53 PM] classical bishop sacrifice: Aderyn nods to Lake. That too.. That's smart... [3:53 PM] Hazel Hazeldine | 🔖: "...okay that's fair..." Hazel taps at her chin... [3:53 PM] Keiko Taisei | Death time: :cluebullet: "Bishop-san is right. The sink where the knife was found had vague red stains on it, as if someone had failed to fully wash them away." [3:54 PM] classical bishop sacrifice: {"Stupid-- Stupid, stu-- stupid culprit,"} [3:54 PM] Lake Kawaguchi | Trial: 'Heh, I said it first, prep Johnny Test!' [3:56 PM] Wilma Ortega || foy air: "This wasn't much well planned, was it?" Wilma comments. "How'd the killer get Akihiko up to the balcony anyways? Just ask 'im?" [3:56 PM] Hazel Hazeldine | 🔖: :consentbullet: "P-Perhaps..." She agreed with Wilma. "H-He's kind, and trusting..." [3:56 PM] classical bishop sacrifice: :consentbullet: "P-Probably," Aderyn mumbles. "He was.. really, friendly," [3:57 PM] Lake Kawaguchi | Trial: { "Good thing I didn't wash the berries..." } [3:57 PM] Keiko Taisei | Death time: "We have to take the motive into consideration as well. Why would whoever did it want to kill Oshiro-san? Did they...did they have the gift given to them by Monoboar-san? Or perhaps they were trying to protect whoever has it..." she says nervously.

[3:57 PM] Wilma Ortega || foy air: Wilma pulls the brim of her hat down to hide the growing anger in her eyes. To take advantage of someone that kindly... [3:57 PM] packie hayai 🌾 💤: "So someone fucking led him there to kill him?" [3:57 PM] Hazel Hazeldine | 🔖: Hazel is shaking, covering her mouth to prevent herself from breaking down. [3:57 PM] Eri [around]: "Actually... I have a theory about the motive" [3:57 PM] Lake Kawaguchi | Trial: "What is it, Eri-san?" [3:58 PM] Wilma Ortega || foy air: "Wait." [3:58 PM] Wilma Ortega || foy air: "Eri. Fore you say anything." [3:58 PM] Eri [around]: Eri waits. [3:58 PM] Wilma Ortega || foy air: Wilma looks up at Monoboar. "You said whoever got the gift'd die if they revealed they had it. Someone's dead, now. Does that mean that rule is done for?" @Monoboar (Mars) [3:59 PM] Monoboar!: Monoboar lifts his head.

"Eh? Oh, oink, yea yea, whoever got the ticket can reveal 'emselves!"

@Wilma Ortega (Auz) [4:00 PM] Wilma Ortega || foy air: Wilma takes a small red ticket out of her pocket. [4:00 PM] Eri [around]: "Right, does that mean I can-" Eri deadpans. [4:00 PM] Riku Yasui...: Riku takes out a red ticket [4:00 PM] Keiko Taisei | Death time: "Then I must come forward...I had the tick--" she cuts herself off as Wilma takes out her ticket. [4:00 PM] Rayne Maelstrom 👹 Investigation: "....Me got one...?" They slowly pull a red ticket out of their pocket. [4:00 PM] Wallace Callaghan || Foyer: "...I've suspected that everyone got one from the start." [4:00 PM] Cerviel Winter | Room: Cerviel slowly took out his ticket. [4:00 PM] Eri [around]: "Yeah, I thought everyone got one" [4:00 PM] Hazel Hazeldine | 🔖: Hazel also takes out a ticket, looking troubled. [4:00 PM] classical bishop sacrifice: Aderyn watches as people start taking out tickets. "... What?" She whispers. She sounds... horrified. [4:00 PM] Lake Kawaguchi | Trial: "...Ugh, that's a weight off my--" Lake was taking out her ticket before she noticed everyone else. [4:00 PM] packie hayai 🌾 💤: Packie takes out a red ticket, feeling sick at the realization. [4:01 PM] Eri [around]: Eri takes out her ticket. [4:01 PM] Keiko Taisei | Death time: "W-what..."

"All of us...had tickets."

[4:01 PM] 🔫Artemis Black🔫| Sadness: Artemis took out a ticket. [4:01 PM] Lake Kawaguchi | Trial: "...You fucking BITCH!!" Lake threw her ticket at the ground before grinding it under her heal. [4:01 PM] Hazel Hazeldine | 🔖: "W...What...!?" Hazel hisses, horrified at this reveal. "Then...!" [4:01 PM] Riku Yasui...: "The pig tricks us," [4:01 PM] 🔫Artemis Black🔫| Sadness: "We were fucking baited." [4:02 PM] Wallace Callaghan || Foyer: "Obviously. Why place a motive that will only affect one person? The rule about not telling anyone was clearly established to prevent us from figuring it out." Wallace looks smug. [4:02 PM] classical bishop sacrifice: Aderyn leans over, gripping her stand. "It-- It, ww, it, it wa, it," she takes several deep breaths. [4:02 PM] Lake Kawaguchi | Trial: "YOU'RE FUCKING SICK!! SICK!!!" Lake shouted at Monoboar. [4:02 PM] Hazel Hazeldine | 🔖: "Wow, like it's something to be happy about, you dumb prick..." Hazel hisses bitterly at Wallace. [4:02 PM] Keiko Taisei | Death time: Keiko regains her composure. "Calm down, everyone. Yes, we were tricked by Monoboar-san, but losing our heads won't help Oshiro-san. We still have to figure out who did this." [4:02 PM] Qiuyue Xu ♣ Foyer: Qiuyue takes out her ticket. [4:02 PM] Monoboar!: "Oink! Tha's how th' cookie crumbles, ain't it!?"

@Lake Kawaguchi (Florence) [4:03 PM] Eri [around]: "You aren't the only one who figured it out" Eri crumples up the ticket and tosses it at Wallace. [4:03 PM] Wilma Ortega || foy air: "I had a feelin' bout this." Wilma says, sighing. "Thought it was suspicious that we couldn't say we had the 'gift.' It'd make it easier to murder if one of us was singled out. But none of us telling it...each of us thinking we'd be the only one to die..."

She looks at Monoboar, and if looks could kill, that pig would be roast.

"The perfect me vs. them situation." [4:03 PM] Cerviel Winter | Room: Cerviel looked down at the floor, close to tears. He let his ticket fall out of his hand. [4:03 PM] Lake Kawaguchi | Trial: "Gh...!!" Lake listened to Keiko and shook her head, trying to shake off the anger. [4:03 PM] Wallace Callaghan || Foyer: "Yes. It's gratifying to know that the one behind this isn't able to outsmart every last one of us. Maybe some of us will actually pass this test." [4:03 PM] Riku Yasui...: "People will start to take your motives less serious is you pull things like this pig," [4:03 PM] Hazel Hazeldine | 🔖: "...kay." [4:03 PM] Wilma Ortega || foy air: "Shut up Walleye." Wilma says automatically. She's referencing the fish. [4:04 PM] Eri [around]: {"What test you jackass"} [4:04 PM] Monoboar!: "Gwahahaha, this is only the beginning, anyways!"

@Riku Yasui (Alondra) [4:04 PM] Lake Kawaguchi | Trial: "Shut the fuck up, Asshat! This isn't the time to be making insensitive jokes like that!" [4:04 PM] 🔫Artemis Black🔫| Sadness: "Shut the fuck up!" [4:04 PM] Keiko Taisei | Death time: {"Callaghan-san, I think all of us are a little shaken right now. I'll be happy to discuss this at length with you if you wish later, but such comments may prove to be inflamatory in our current situation--" she interrupts herself as everyone else tells him to shut up, "Ah, my point is proven."} [4:05 PM] classical bishop sacrifice: "I thought, I thought--" She's shaking. "But-- Even-- Even, even, if, if, it had been, just, just one-- It still, affected- everyone. Everyone, because, because--" She gasps. "Even, even if you don't have it-- you don't, know who, so, that's, you don't, know who will snap, you don't, but-- But-- we all-- we--" She's hyperventilating. "What-- What about the pu-punishment?! Was that-- Was that a fuh-fucking lie too? Were you-- Were you, really-- really gonna k-kill, kill us, if, if we didn't--" @Monoboar (Mars) [4:05 PM] Wilma Ortega || foy air: "I think he was." [4:05 PM] Wallace Callaghan || Foyer: Wallace drags a hand down his face. "Am I the only one actually capable of focusing here? What happened to the presentation of evidence? Surely someone else here has something to contribute?" [4:06 PM] Monoboar!: "Heheh, I dunno! Was I? Sure is a mystery now that'cha know ya had a ticket like everyone else!" Monoboar snorts. "But it would'a been more fun if I did kill alla ya!"

@Aderyn Bishop (Beq) [4:06 PM] Lake Kawaguchi | Trial: "UGH!!!!!!!!!" [4:06 PM] Eri [around]: Eri stops herself from saying something. [4:06 PM] Hazel Hazeldine | 🔖: Hazel kicks her trial stand angrily. [4:07 PM] Hazel Hazeldine | 🔖: "Fie! cometh ov'r hither and englut mine own coxcomb, thee distemperate fooleth, thee hog!!!!" [4:07 PM] Lake Kawaguchi | Trial: "Hazel-san, you're my friend, but could you say that in a way I can understand, please? [4:07 PM] Eri [around]: "Please fight him" [4:08 PM] packie hayai 🌾 💤: "I've never learned how to hear." [4:08 PM] Lake Kawaguchi | Trial: "Eri-san, don't encourage it right now!!" [4:08 PM] Hazel Hazeldine | 🔖: "Questioneth not mine own speech patterns, i'm very fell even but now!!!!" She angrily crumples the ticket and throws it at Wallace. [4:08 PM] Eri [around]: "Please fight him later" [4:09 PM] Wilma Ortega || foy air: "Walleye, yer not helping the situation any. Please refrain from treatin' the rest of us like idjits." [4:09 PM] Lake Kawaguchi | Trial: "...ANYWAY! If we all had a ticket, how can we narrow down our list of suspects?" [4:09 PM] Hazel Hazeldine | 🔖: Hazel huffs and turns around, crossing her arms. She's giving herself time to relax. [4:10 PM] Eri [around]: "That makes it super difficult, who would likely to cave in out of fear?" [4:10 PM] classical bishop sacrifice: Aderyn has her hands at her head, pulling on her hair as she takes deep breathes. [4:10 PM] Keiko Taisei | Death time: {"Callaghan-san...should I repeat myself? Please refrain from purposefuly instigating our classmates.} [4:10 PM] Hana Minami! | I can';t: Hana had a ticket. She crumpled it and threw it at the ground as hard as she could, and as it was paper, it floated down softly. That only made her more pissed off, so she started stomping on it. [4:10 PM] Wilma Ortega || foy air: Wilma looks around the room, observing everyone.

"Whoever killed 'im...now knows they were tricked. They can't be too happy right now." [4:10 PM] Lake Kawaguchi | Trial: "I mean, whoever did it probably washed their feet and changed their clothes by now, right?" [4:11 PM] Wallace Callaghan || Foyer: {"I merely asked who else had evidence. If that qualifies as instigating, then I believe I am not the one with the problem."} [4:11 PM] classical bishop sacrifice: "Did- d-did he-- If-- the b-boar was, was lying-- did..." Aderyn swallows, looking up with teary eyes. "Did... did he die for nothing..?" [4:11 PM] Eri [around]: "I would hope so, who just shows up wearing bloody clothes" [4:11 PM] packie hayai 🌾 💤: "Whoever did it must've thought that it would've been okay to trade lives for one, or all of us." [4:11 PM] Keiko Taisei | Death time: "I must say I am quite relieved to know all of us had tickets. I thought someone had murdered Oshiro-san for my sake, for a second..." [4:12 PM] Qiuyue Xu ♣ Foyer: Qiuyue exhales, taking this all in. "... Hmph..." [4:12 PM] Hazel Hazeldine | 🔖: Hazel turns around and slams her fists on her podium. "E-Either way, Akihiko would've been k-killed for nothing!!! The murderer is a villain, cruel and horrible! There's no use in killing, never!" [4:13 PM] Lake Kawaguchi | Trial: "I'm not about to forgive whoever took Oshiro-kun away from us, either, Hazel-san, but don't forget the one here we should be the most pissed at..."

She gave a look to the swine in the throne. [4:14 PM] Keiko Taisei | Death time: :consentbullet: "I agree wholeheartedly with you, Hazeldine-san. Whoever committed such a horrid crime should step forward and admit to their guilt." [4:14 PM] classical bishop sacrifice: Aderyn whimpers. "Can't-- You can't-- c-can't fuh-fuh-forgive them, you can't-- you can't," she's crying. "Killer is a stupid-- stupid, fuh-fuh-fucking, lowlife-- fucking FREAK, c-can't, fucking forgive, forgive--" [4:14 PM] Eri [around]: "Yeah, no one would outright admit to a murder" Eri looked over at Keiko. [4:14 PM] Monoboar!: Monoboar only leans back in his throne, entertained. [4:14 PM] 🔫Artemis Black🔫| Sadness: Artemis makes a bit of a face. [4:14 PM] Hazel Hazeldine | 🔖: Hazel frowns, looking at Aderyn. [4:15 PM] Hana Minami! | I can';t: "Can't the kuh-" she didn't want to say it. "killer...just reveal themselves already? Everyone already hates you, so just, like, ugh! I hate both you and the smelly pig! Tell me who you are now so I can stomp your face in like I just crushed this stupid, dumb, idiot...ticket..." she was only repeating herself at this point. [4:15 PM] Keiko Taisei | Death time: {Keiko gives Artemis a Look ™ . :unamused: } [4:15 PM] Wilma Ortega || foy air: "Much as I agree with y'all, this ain't helping none." Wilma speaks up. "This ain't gonna encourage no one to step forward and admit it. I don't think nothing could convince someone to admit to this."

"Let's review the evidence one more time. There ain't nothing we forgot to look at, is there?" [4:15 PM] classical bishop sacrifice: "We- we can't, c-can't f-figure it out, we, we looked over all the- the clues, there's, nn, there's nothing else..!" Aderyn pulls at her hair. [4:16 PM] 🔫Artemis Black🔫| Sadness: {"Don't look at me."} [4:16 PM] Lake Kawaguchi | Trial: "...Maybe we could look at the V shape again?" [4:16 PM] Hana Minami! | I can';t: Hana draped herself over her stand, rocking restlessly. [4:16 PM] Hazel Hazeldine | 🔖: "...w-well..." Hazel wrings her hands. "Recall the file info... it says he died at 2am last night, did he not?" She says. "Who'd be up so late...?" [4:17 PM] Keiko Taisei | Death time: She ignores Artemis' words.

:consentbullet: "I believe we have looked over all of the evidence...but yes, as Kawaguchi-san has stated, I was about to suggest we go over the 'V' shape once more." [4:17 PM] Hazel Hazeldine | 🔖: Hazel goes silent. [4:17 PM] Hana Minami! | I can';t: "Um, well...uh..." she thought. "like, I don't wanna accuse anyone. But, like, who here stays up late?" [4:18 PM] Lake Kawaguchi | Trial: "I've made sleeping early a habit, but that's probably not gonna help anything." [4:18 PM] Eri [around]: Eri raises her hand slowly. "Insomnia" [4:18 PM] Qiuyue Xu ♣ Foyer: "I go to bed at a decent time!" Qiuyue states. "I never deviate from it, no matter what!" [4:18 PM] classical bishop sacrifice: "I'm s-s-ure, sure, many, many of us, do," Aderyn says quickly. [4:18 PM] Cerviel Winter | Room: Cerviel shifted. "I haven't gotten a lot of sleep since i've been here" [4:18 PM] Hana Minami! | I can';t: Hana looks at Eri. "Then, well...it must be you or something! You look like you'd commit a murder!" [4:18 PM] classical bishop sacrifice: "Se--See!" Aderyn points at Eri quickly after her admission of insomnia. Addy that's rude. [4:19 PM] Wilma Ortega || foy air: "If we think he was tryin' to write out his killer's name...well the V was smudged near the middle. I'm thinking it was either a W or an M."

Wilma spent too long thinking about this and ignored the staying up late convo. [4:19 PM] Keiko Taisei | Death time: "I can provide a copy of my written out schedule if you wish. I don't stay up that late, and even if I did, some areas are forbidden that late at night, and I would not break such a rule." [4:19 PM] Eri [around]: Eri looks over at Hana. [4:19 PM] Eri [around]: Glares. [4:19 PM] Eri [around]: "No" [4:19 PM] Hana Minami! | I can';t: Hana's just staring at Eri with wide, angry eyes. "Gimmie proof!" [4:19 PM] classical bishop sacrifice: "I-- I also! I also, think, think it was a W, I mean, it w-wouldn't be, wouldn't be r-right side up, if, it were, an M," Aderyn says. [4:20 PM] Hazel Hazeldine | 🔖: :consentbullet: "Smudged near the middle, Lady Wilma... if it's smudged, could it maybe be the letter A instead of a W or an M?" [4:20 PM] Keiko Taisei | Death time: :consentbullet: "I agree with Hazeldine-san...it seems more likely that the letter was an A." [4:20 PM] Lake Kawaguchi | Trial: "Ugh! This talk of when we go to sleep isn't gonna help us, guys!" [4:20 PM] Lake Kawaguchi | Trial: "Let's get back to the V shape thing!" [4:20 PM] Hana Minami! | I can';t: "A? Okay, well, um...Aeri? Ari? Close enough!" [4:20 PM] Eri [around]: Eri just sighs and ignores Hana. [4:20 PM] Wilma Ortega || foy air: "...Huh." Wilma didn't think of that. "Yeah, could be an A, too. Didn't consider that, Miss Basil." [4:20 PM] classical bishop sacrifice: "A... An, A," Aderyn repeats, looking pale. After a few moments, she side-eyes Artemis very slowly. [4:21 PM] Hana Minami! | I can';t: Hana drapes herself over her stand again. [4:21 PM] Keiko Taisei | Death time: Keiko side-eyes Artemis as well. This looks is more of a "please tell everyone how it couldn't have been you" kind of look, though.

"Black-san?" [4:21 PM] Wallace Callaghan || Foyer: { Wallace is absolutely fuming right now. } [4:22 PM] 🔫Artemis Black🔫| Sadness: "It wasn't fucking me. If I'd crack under a death threat I wouldn't even have my talent." [4:22 PM] Wilma Ortega || foy air: "Or Miss Add-er-in, though I hate to put you in the spotlight." Wilma adds. [4:22 PM] Hazel Hazeldine | 🔖: Hazel looks at Artemis and Aderyn. [4:22 PM] packie hayai 🌾 💤: Packie quickly glances over at Aderyn. [4:22 PM] Hana Minami! | I can';t: Hana looks at Aderyn, too. "It better not be you, Aderyn-chan, cause I trusted you I think!" [4:22 PM] Hazel Hazeldine | 🔖: "...Lady Artemis... has a point... she's more strong willed when it comes to... death..." [4:22 PM] classical bishop sacrifice: Aderyn squeaks. "W-W-- Well, Well, m-m-maybe, maybe, maybe it wasn't a fuh-fucking A at all!" She snaps. [4:23 PM] Hazel Hazeldine | 🔖: Hazel jumps. [4:23 PM] Lake Kawaguchi | Trial: "Aderyn-san, you're not helping your case!" [4:23 PM] 🔫Artemis Black🔫| Sadness: "Addy, calm down." [4:23 PM] Riku Yasui...: "Profanity," [4:23 PM] Hana Minami! | I can';t: "Aderyn-chan, impolite..." she mumbles. [4:23 PM] Lake Kawaguchi | Trial: { "We've been swearing this whole trial, Yasui-kun." } [4:24 PM] classical bishop sacrifice: "I'm j-just-- just fucking, fucking saying!" She says. "You c-can't, c-can't accuse, accuse, me, when, when it still c-coulda been, been a W, or, or something!" She defends. "I mean, it-- It wasn't even right-side up!" [4:24 PM] Wallace Callaghan || Foyer: Wallace sighs. "It likely was, when you take into account the perspective of someone lying down and trying to write on a surface behind them. It would be right-side up from his perspective." [4:24 PM] Eri [around]: "From the victims view it was" [4:24 PM] classical bishop sacrifice: "..."

[4:24 PM] Hazel Hazeldine | 🔖: Hazel bites her lip, staring worriedly at Aderyn. [4:25 PM] Wilma Ortega || foy air: Wilma stares at Aderyn, her whole demeanor shifting. She looks like a predator that's just spotted it's prey.

"Miss Aderyn. You didn't show up to the body 'nouncement, not at first. Was it cause you didn't wanna see the body, or 'cause you didn't wanna be reminded...?" [4:25 PM] Lake Kawaguchi | Trial: "...Ohh my fucking God, Aderyn-san. Don't you say it. Don't you fucking say it." [4:25 PM] Hana Minami! | I can';t: Hana hides her face in her arms, groaning, half out of anger, half out of fear. [4:25 PM] classical bishop sacrifice: "W-Well..!" Aderyn glances around. "Maybe, Maybe-- Maybe it was a fucking-- fucking M!" She tries instead. "Stop! Stop, I didn't I didn't fuh-fucking do it, I didn't-- I'm not--!" Tears are welling up in her eyes again as her eyes flicker about nervously. She takes a step back, looking terrified out of her mind. [4:26 PM] Hana Minami! | I can';t: "Gimmie more proof! I-I'll give you another chance if you do...! You're acting weird! Really weird!" [4:26 PM] Lake Kawaguchi | Trial: "Aderyn-san, for your sake and ours, please just take some deep fucking breaths." [4:26 PM] packie hayai 🌾 💤: He tilts his head a bit. "Breathe for a sec. Calm down, get your words out. Be careful with what you say." [4:27 PM] Wilma Ortega || foy air: "You called the killer a, um, I believe the exact word was, 'a fuckin' freak.' Do you..." Wilma is staring real hard at Aderyn. "Do you hate yourself that much?" [4:28 PM] classical bishop sacrifice: "I'm fucking-- Fuh-fucking scared!" She shouts back. "Y-You-- You would be too if p-people were, were fucking ac-accusing, accusing, yyy-- you!" She points a shaking finger at Hana. "I don't-- I don't wanna fucking die!"

She flickers over to Wilma. "I don't-- I don't, b-because, I didn't-- I--" She's openly crying now. "I didn't-- He-- I..."

Aderyn looks down. [4:28 PM] packie hayai 🌾 💤: "He..?" [4:28 PM] Lake Kawaguchi | Trial: "..." [4:28 PM] Hazel Hazeldine | 🔖: Hazel is trembling, biting into her lip hard enough to bleed. [4:28 PM] 🔫Artemis Black🔫| Sadness: "Addy...." [4:28 PM] Wilma Ortega || foy air: "Tell us the truth, Aderyn. You can still make this better. Not right, but better." [4:29 PM] Hana Minami! | I can';t: Hana's hands are sweating, so she just zoned out as hard as possible, a dazed and angry expression stuck on her face. [4:29 PM] Keiko Taisei | Death time: "Bishop-san? Please listen to Ortega-san..." Keiko looks...solemn. This sucks. I hate it. [4:30 PM] classical bishop sacrifice: Aderyn's shoulders are shaking, and you can hear her sniffling and hiccupping, and she reaches up to wipe away her tears. "I didn't-- I d-didn't--" She hiccups.

"I just--- I didn't, ww-wanna die," she admits. "I thought-- I thought, I was-- I didn't--... I'm, sorry," Aderyn hiccups again, collapsing at her stand. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry-- I-- I'm," she trails off into wet mumbles. [4:30 PM] Hazel Hazeldine | 🔖: Hazel is gripping her stand, glaring at Aderyn hard enough to blow her onto her back.

"Y-You... y-you admit it...? You truly admit it, then...?!" [4:31 PM] Wallace Callaghan || Foyer: Wallace's gaze is fixed on Anderyn. He jumps on her hesitation like a predator on prey. "Is that a confession?" [4:31 PM] Lake Kawaguchi | Trial: "..."

Lake gave Aderyn one of her hardest glares since she first woke up here before she stepped down from her stand and walked over to the other's [4:31 PM] Keiko Taisei | Death time: "......."

[4:32 PM] Wilma Ortega || foy air: In contrast, Wilma relaxes a bit, but it's more out of exhaustion than any form of relief. It's as good as a confession.

"None of us wanna die, Miss Aderyn. Akihiko didn't." [4:32 PM] Hana Minami! | I can';t: She pulled her head up. "I hate you!" she shouted. "If you're...you're seriously admitting to this, then, I hate you!" she said, but her lip was quivering. [4:32 PM] Cerviel Winter | Room: Cerviel wasn't glaring. He just looked.. sad. He didn't want anyone else to die. [4:32 PM] Hazel Hazeldine | 🔖: Hazel feels the tears well up again, and she sniffles, shoulder shaking as hides her eyes again, silently weeping. [4:32 PM] Lake Kawaguchi | Trial: Once she was close enough to her Lake took a step forward towards Aderyn before she-- [4:33 PM] classical bishop sacrifice: "I know," Aderyn chokes. "I know, I know, I know-- He kept-- He-- He said-- Don't leave me alone-- I was just, I was-- I couldn't-- I couldn't leave-- I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry Akihiko, I'm sorry," [4:33 PM] Lake Kawaguchi | Trial: ...wrapped her shaking arms around her. [4:33 PM] Keiko Taisei | Death time: "Bishop-san...you are lying. Did someone threaten you so you'd say this? You can tell us." [4:33 PM] Hana Minami! | I can';t: "I don't even care how long I knew Aki-chan, he was like, like..." she slammed her hands onto the thing. "AAAAGH! DON'T TELL ME THAT! SHUT UP! SHUT UP RIGHT NOW!" [4:33 PM] Hazel Hazeldine | 🔖: "SHUT UP!!! I-I DON'T WANNA HEAR IT...! I DON'T... I DON'T WANT TO IMAGINE IT..." [4:34 PM] Wilma Ortega || foy air: "Miss Pond, yer mighty kind, but she could still be dangerous." Wilma says, hand on her holster. [4:34 PM] classical bishop sacrifice: Aderyn just sobs harder, reluctantly leaning into Lake's embrace. "Stop-- stop, I don't I don't-- you can't-- c-can't, can't fuh-fucking," she sobs. "I'm j-just a hor-horrible, fuh-fucking, mmm, murder-- I killed-- I k-k-- I-- He didn't-- I'm sorry--" [4:34 PM] packie hayai 🌾 💤: Packie didn't seem to be listening, staring off into the distance. He idly plays with the bands on his fingers, thinking about something else. [4:34 PM] 🔫Artemis Black🔫| Sadness: "Shut up, Woody. She's not gonna do shit again." [4:35 PM] Lake Kawaguchi | Trial: "...I know, and I'm not doing this out of kindness."

'...Maybe I am. I can't tell right now.' [4:35 PM] Monoboar!: "...Gyeheheh, so we've reached our climax, huh?" Monoboar snorts in amusement. [4:35 PM] Lake Kawaguchi | Trial: "...Aderyn-san," Lake spoke sternly. [4:35 PM] 🔫Artemis Black🔫| Sadness: "Fuck you too, pig!" [4:35 PM] Hana Minami! | I can';t: "All he wanted was friends...! I was too mean to him! So...I'm going to be mean to you instead 'cause you ruined that for him! He j-just...! Ugh!" she flicked her head towards Monoboar. "SHUT UP, STUPID HOG! SHUT UUUP!" [4:35 PM] classical bishop sacrifice: Aderyn tries to curl in on herself further. [4:36 PM] Keiko Taisei | Death time: Keiko keep her frown for a moment longer before...she just starts crying. "Bishop-san..." and to think she'd let that happen. If only she had done more, she could've stopped Aderyn from killing, and Akhiko would be alive...

[4:36 PM] Hazel Hazeldine | 🔖: "A-All he... uuu.. If only... I-If only I told him how good of a friend he w-was..." [4:36 PM] Wilma Ortega || foy air: "It's a bit too late for 'sorry,' Miss Aderyn." Wilma says gently. "Don't curl up on yerself now. Stand up and own it, and maybe then you can 'pologize." [4:37 PM] classical bishop sacrifice: She shakes her head. "Do- Don't, d-deserve, don't deserve, to," she says. "Can this, please-- p-please, just... end," she begs, her voice cracking. [4:38 PM] Hana Minami! | I can';t: "Aderyn!" she dropped the -chan. It's too cute and sweet. "Yeah, stand up and own it! You killed him! You...he's gone! HE'S GONE!" she yelled, tears spilling from her eyes. She wiped them away as fast as she could, face pink. [4:38 PM] 🔫Artemis Black🔫| Sadness: Fuck. Artemis scowled, looking to the pig. "You're fucking sick! I swear to god, first chance I get I'm gonna make you fucking pay from the shit you put us all through! I'm gonna fucking kill you and your fucking puppeT master!" [4:40 PM] Monoboar!: "Gyahahaha, so I guess it's time, dont'cha think?" Monoboar says without a care in the world, and slams his... hoof? Boars are weird. On the arm of his throne, and a screen flickers onto everyone's trial stands.

A selection of all the students' faces blink on your screen with the words VOTE! in red lettering taunt you.

"I know I'm sick, so what? Get t' votin' you filthy maggots!"

@Alive [4:41 PM] Wilma Ortega || foy air: "I think we're way past what you do and don't deserve, Miss Aderyn." Wilma is looking at her, expression carefully blank.

"Stand up and look us in the eyes. You owe it to Akihiko. To all of us." [4:41 PM] Wilma Ortega || foy air: Wilma votes for Aderyn. [4:41 PM] Eri [around]: Eri looks over at the screen and votes for Aderyn. [4:41 PM] packie hayai 🌾 💤: Packie snaps out of it. Hi. He votes for Aderyn. [4:41 PM] Cerviel Winter | Room: Cerviel looked down at his stand, voting for Aderyn with shaky hands. [4:41 PM] Rayne Maelstrom 👹 Investigation: Rayne votes for Aderyn. Im sorry. [4:41 PM] Hana Minami! | I can';t: Hana stared at it for a while. She stared at Aki's face on the screen, a red x-mark crudely placed over it. She glances up at Aderyn, votes quietly, and then she puts her hand back at her side. [4:41 PM] Riku Yasui...: With a slight hesitation, Riku voted for Aderyn. [4:42 PM] Hazel Hazeldine | 🔖: Hazel glares at the screen through her blurry, tearful vision, and taps to vote for Aderyn shakily. [4:42 PM] classical bishop sacrifice: Aderyn pulls herself to her feet at Wilmas words, but she doesn't look at anyone. She can't.

She votes for herself. [4:42 PM] packie hayai 🌾 💤: "What.. exactly will the voting do." [4:42 PM] Wallace Callaghan || Foyer: Wallace votes for Aderyn. [4:42 PM] Hana Minami! | I can';t: "I dunno, probably, like, gets her out of here or something. Hopefully in jail." [4:42 PM] Keiko Taisei | Death time: Keiko can barely see their faces. She's crying dawg :(

"We can't....executing someone isn't right! Even if they murdered someone else!" [4:43 PM] Monoboar!: "Yer votin' to send Aderyn off, obviously." [4:43 PM] Hana Minami! | I can';t: "Yep! To jail!" [4:43 PM] classical bishop sacrifice: Aderyn tenses up. What? [4:43 PM] 🔫Artemis Black🔫| Sadness: Artemis scowled, hands shaking. She punched in a vote for herself, it was hard to vote for Aderyn, she knew the rules, she couldn't do that do her. [4:43 PM] 🔫Artemis Black🔫| Sadness: "Did you all forget the fucking rules?" [4:44 PM] Wallace Callaghan || Foyer: Wallace's face twists into a disgusted frown. Was he the only one who paid any attention around here? [4:44 PM] Keiko Taisei | Death time: Keiko composes herself as best as she can. "It's...stated in the rules. That we must vote for the execution of the blackened." [4:44 PM] Hana Minami! | I can';t: "...Execution?" Hana squeaked. [4:44 PM] Monoboar!: "Gyahaha, thanks fer doin' my job, blabber mouth!" [4:44 PM] Wilma Ortega || foy air: "The ones that say we all die if we don't choose correctly? Nah, I think we all remember 'em pretty well." Wilma stares back at Artemis, challenging her to continue this bullshit. "You think any of us wanna do this?" [4:45 PM] Hana Minami! | I can';t: "Does that mean she's actually gonna...die? Did I just vote for someone to die?" [4:45 PM] Hazel Hazeldine | 🔖: Hazel whimpers. [4:45 PM] Lake Kawaguchi | Trial: Lake gave Monoboar a glare before she turned her focus back on Aderyn.

"...I can't forgive you for what you did," Lake tried to keep her voice as level as she could, "But... But..."

'But... What? It's not your fault? It kind of is, but it's also Monoboar's fault. It's gonna be okay? I don't really want to say that to someone who killed Oshiro-kun, but...

Lake kept her offer for an embrace open as she gave Hazel a look. Vote for Aderyn for her?

@Aderyn Bishop (Beq) @Hazel Hazeldine (Mars) [4:45 PM] Hazel Hazeldine | 🔖: Hazel won't do that. [4:46 PM] classical bishop sacrifice: Aderyn looks pale, shaking at her stand, she's hardly listening. "N-no, I-- I don't-- I don't wanna die, please--" She whispers, wrapping her arms around herself. [4:46 PM] Monoboar!: "You say that, but'cha still kill someone anyways? Eh, kids are always selfish these days, Oink!" [4:46 PM] Hana Minami! | I can';t: Hana didn't say anything, she just looked at the ground, stuffing a hand in her heart-shaped apron pocket. [4:46 PM] classical bishop sacrifice: Aderyn hunches over, guilty. [4:47 PM] Keiko Taisei | Death time: Keiko leaves her stand too after sorrowfully voting for Aderyn. Sorry GMs she's leaving that stand.

She approaches Aderyn, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Bishop-san..." [4:47 PM] Wilma Ortega || foy air: Wilma closes her eyes, sighing.

"I'm sorry, Miss Aderyn. But you knew the rules, and so do we. There ain't nothing we can do to stop that now without getting us all axed." [4:47 PM] Lake Kawaguchi | Trial: She was slow to wrap her arms around this time in case Aderyn didn't want it. @Aderyn Bishop (Beq) [4:48 PM] classical bishop sacrifice: Aderyn doesn't react to either touch. She just... stands there, head down. Tears, still dripping from her face. She's... given up.

It's over. [4:48 PM] Hana Minami! | I can';t: Hana didn't want to look at any of this! She hid behind her stand and put her head in her shirt. [4:48 PM] Monoboar!: "Wrap it up, fellas, we got a verdict to get to!" [4:49 PM] Keiko Taisei | Death time: "I'm so sorry....Aderyn. I'm...please apologize to Oshiro-san, wherever you go. Maybe someday...you'll be forgiven for what you did." she doesn't know what to say, but she can't send Aderyn to her death without saying anything. Why do they have to kill at all? [4:50 PM] Qiuyue Xu ♣ Foyer: Qiuyue votes Aderyn. [4:52 PM] Lake Kawaguchi | Trial: "...I..." 'What do I say? Should I just make it quick?' "I hope it goes by fast, Aderyn-san."

'...Dark, but okay.'

With that and a lingering touch on the shoulder, Lake ran over to her stand, and reluctantly voted for Aderyn. [4:53 PM] Monoboar!: "Yeesh, finally. Let's get on with it!"

The voting screens flicker black for a moment before a light begins to flicker down each name.

"Well, who's it gonna be, ya grubs? Let's find out who killed 'im!"

...

[4:54 PM] Monoboar!: ...

A victory tune chimes out as the light lands on Aderyn Bishop.

"Looks like it's the truth, gwahaha! Aderyn Bishop killed Akihiko Oshiro!"

[4:54 PM] classical bishop sacrifice: Aderyn squeezes her eyes shut. [4:54 PM] Hana Minami! | I can';t: Hana's still in her shirt. [4:55 PM] Hazel Hazeldine | 🔖: Hazel covers her mouth, hand shaking. [4:55 PM] packie hayai 🌾 💤: Packie shakes his head. [4:55 PM] Keiko Taisei | Death time: Keiko walks back to her stand. "Goodbye, Aderyn." [4:56 PM] Rayne Maelstrom 👹 Investigation: They lower their head and looks down and to the side, folding their hands over their chest. [4:57 PM] Keiko Taisei | Death time: "I hope you're able to find peace." [4:57 PM] 🔫Artemis Black🔫| Sadness: Artemis broke into another scowl, jaw going tense. "This isn't fucking fair. None of this is fair." [4:57 PM] Eri [around]: "Bye Aderyn" That's all Eri says. [4:57 PM] Hazel Hazeldine | 🔖: "N-None of it... none of it is fair...! The motive drove Lady Aderyn to kill Akihiko, and now... it kills her for it...!?" [4:58 PM] Cerviel Winter | Room: "...I hope you become an angel one day" [4:58 PM] Hana Minami! | I can';t: Hana didn't say anything more. What else could she say? [4:59 PM] classical bishop sacrifice: Aderyn shakes her head. "No p-pearly, wh-white gates for me," she mutters in response to Cerviel. [4:59 PM] 🔫Artemis Black🔫| Sadness: "...Addy. I..I'm sorry. I hope you get a lotta cute shit wherever you go." [4:59 PM] Wallace Callaghan || Foyer: Wallace had way too many questions and tbh if I was writing the full Wallace he would have been interrogating her but im just gonna [5:00 PM] Cerviel Winter | Room: He looked away. He didn't have any further response. [5:01 PM] Keiko Taisei | Death time: "Do you have something you wish to tell those outside? I can...I can tell them, your friends..." [5:03 PM] classical bishop sacrifice: Aderyn winces, visibly. "Don't... tell them." She begs. "Please," her eyes well up again. This is... very selfish of her, and she knows. But.. still. "Just.. Don't-- Don't even.. talk to them. Just.. Leave it be. They'll ww-wonder, where, where I went, and... mm-move on. It's... fine." [5:04 PM] Keiko Taisei | Death time: "I think... they'll look for you. They won't forget you, Aderyn. But, as you wish." [5:07 PM] Lake Kawaguchi | Trial: Lake shook a bit as she snapped out of her slight daze when she processed Hazel putting the thoughts she had into the words she was looking for a minute before.

'God, I'm embarrassing! NOW I know what I want to say!'

"...Yeah, none it is fair!" Lake grabbed her stand and began to shout, "Fuck, I take back wishing it was quick as my last words to you, Aderyn-san! That's weak, coming from me! None of this bullshit is fair, and you shouldn't have to fucking die when you're not even twenty! What the fuck! Whoever's behind that disgusting swine will pay for the bullshit they put you, Oshiro-kun and the rest of us through!!! Neither you or him will have died in vain, I swear it!!"

"And if they're real friends, Aderyn-san, they'll miss the fuck out of you and remember you!! If not, I'll remember you! And Oshiro-kun, too!!!" [5:09 PM] classical bishop sacrifice: Aderyn sniffles and... nods. There's nothing else she can say. [5:09 PM] Monoboar!: "Gyahaha, touching! But this is the end, whether it matters to ya losers or not!"

Monoboar slams a gavel onto a big red button, and Aderyn is promptly whisked away by a metal clamp attached to a chain snapping around her neck, and she's off...

Aderyn Bishop has been found guilty. Time for the punishment.

[Done by @spiiderboiii]

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[Done by @pitoumugis]

[5:10 PM] Keiko Taisei | Death time: She closes her eyes. She can't look. [5:11 PM] Qiuyue Xu ♣ Foyer: Qiuyue watches, but... She regrets doing that. [5:12 PM] Hazel Hazeldine | 🔖: Hazel nearly shrieks, and covers her eyes, and then her ears, and crouches down. [5:12 PM] Riku Yasui...: Riku turned around and put his hood up. [5:12 PM] Hana Minami! | I can';t: Hana slowly emerges from her shirt, looking at the aftermath of the execution. She wished she hadn't. [5:12 PM] Keiko Taisei | Death time: Keiko flinches as she hears the train, letting out a sob as she presses her hand tighter against her face as if that'd protect her from the sight. [5:12 PM] Cerviel Winter | Room: Cerviel flinched, finally allowing himself to cry. It didn't matter that he hadn't known her. His tears fell down onto the ground anyways. [5:12 PM] Rayne Maelstrom 👹 Investigation: Rayne wants to scream but they just gag, having to turn themself around and cover their mouth. Why. WHY? [5:13 PM] packie hayai 🌾 💤: Packie taps impatiently on his stand, still staring at the train. [5:13 PM] Monoboar!: "That's all for now, maggots. Save th' sobbin' and head back into the elevator! Scram!"

Monoboar slams his gavel, closing the case on this trial, and vanishes from his throne. [5:14 PM] 🔫Artemis Black🔫| Sadness: Artemis, for the first time in everyone's presence, whimpers. She whined from the back of her throat, turning away. Fuck. Fuck! She leaned on the pedastal to keep herself steady, trying to blink away the wet heat from her eyes. After a moment she steadied herself, walking off to the elevator with a stagger to her step. [5:14 PM] Hana Minami! | I can';t: Hana fucking books it to the elevator. [5:14 PM] Hazel Hazeldine | 🔖: Hazel shakily steps into the elevator. [5:14 PM] Cerviel Winter | Room: Numb, he walked back onto the elevator. [5:14 PM] packie hayai 🌾 💤: Packie fucking yeets it. [5:15 PM] Wilma Ortega || foy air: Wilma tips her hat downwards, listening to but not watching the execution. She won't revel in Aderyn's death.

She lingers in the trial room, not because she wants to, but in case anyone won't go back. She can escort them. [5:15 PM] Hana Minami! | I can';t: Hana can't wait to go to her room and scream. [5:16 PM] Rayne Maelstrom 👹 Investigation: Rayne bolts to the elevator as fast as their legs can take them. The situation's magnitude hitting them hard finally. Once they get into the elevator they just hunker down into a ball. [5:16 PM] Qiuyue Xu ♣ Foyer: Qiuyue rubs her arms nervously. [5:17 PM] Lake Kawaguchi | Trial: Out of respect for Aderyn (And just not willing to see a live death), Lake looked away from the screen.

...She heard the train and put two, two and two together. The first two being, 'Oh, a train.' Second, 'At... At least is was quick.' And third, '...Why a train?'

...

'...Oh, god,' A sick thought seeped into her mind before she dashed to the elevator, wanting to keep the train of thought from going on. [5:17 PM] Keiko Taisei | Death time: Keiko solemnly makes her way inside the elevator, crying quietly once more. None of this is fair. They don't deserve this.

'Akihiko, Aderyn...I'm sorry.' she thinks to herself, wishing she could've done something, anything to prevent this from happening. [5:18 PM] Wilma Ortega || foy air: Alright, I think everyone's in. Wilma follows. [5:18 PM] Hana Minami! | I can';t: Hana's still acting all princess-like in the elevator, hands on her hips, giving everyone a stare-down. Her eyes are puffy, though, and her cheeks are red. [5:20 PM] Lake Kawaguchi | Trial: "...Do you need a hug, Minami-sama?" [5:20 PM] Monoboar!: The elevator closes behind everyone and rises back to the foyer, now two less people but a heavy atmosphere weighing down on all of you...

TRIAL 1 - END.

#ccrpmkg7 #continuous calamity #danganronpa roleplay #danganronpa rp #roleplay #ccrpmkg7chapter1 #ccrpmkg7trial

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ddaddsprompts · 7 years ago

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I saw a prompt where dads find out dadsona is an actor, and they go through all of his shows/movies. I love that idea soooo much. Could i possibly request something like that, and also that they find a movie/tv show where dadsona dies and they get all freaked out?

You have no ideawho spilled the beans. The topic of your work never came up, so you’d nevertold him you’re an actor, but he must have found out some way or the other,because there’s no other explanation for why you come home to find [Dad]sitting on the couch with one of the latest show you’ve starred in playing onscreen and a small pile with other movies and shows next to him on the table.You strongly suspect Amanda told him, but short of asking, you don’t have anyproof and thus, your case wouldn’t hold in court. You silently sit down next to[Dad] and lean back. Watching yourself on screen still is weird, but youmostly focus on [Dad]’s expressions. You recognised the episodeimmediately and you’re curious about his reaction to your death.

Your screen self isstanding between two other members of the gang, trying to defuse the situation.Suddenly, one of them pulls a gun. Your character jumps forward to pull it outof their hands. In the resulting grapple, a shot goes off. Your character sinksto his knees, then falls to his side, a large red spot on his stomach that’sgetting bigger by the second.

🥃 Robert’sface is blank, like always, but you’ve known him long enough to notice thatlook in his eyes. His gaze is distant, like he’s somewhere entirely differentwith his thoughts. Carefully, you reach out and nudge his shoulder. “Hey, Bobert?”He doesn’t react. You nudge him again, harder this time, and wave a hand infront of his face. “Earth to Bobert, are you—“ He knocks the air out of yourlungs lunging himself at you, wrapping his strong arms around you tightly, asif he’s scared of you vanishing if he doesn’t cling. Confused, you wrap yourarms around him in return. “Babe, what’s wrong? It’s just a TV show and sure,it looked real, but it’s definitely not…” He makes a noise. You don’t recogniseit, at first, but then it dawns on you – he’s crying. You tighten your grip onhim, rubbing his back and murmuring sweet nothings into his ear. “I-I can-can’tlose you,” Robert sobs. “I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t want to… not y-you too…” Youcontinue holding him even after he stops crying again, assuring him that youwouldn’t leave him anytime soon.

🍸 “Oh my. T-that was, well, that was… quite realistic.” Joseph lifts a handto press his palm to his chest, right above the heart. You notice he’s gottenpaler than usual. Is his hand shaking? No, his whole body is shaking, not justthat specific body part. You frown and scoot closer until your thighs arepressed together. The proximity and body contact seems to help him calm down,but only a little. “W-when Damien told me Lucien saw you in a movie I honestlyd-didn’t expect you to s-star in things l-like that but you’re truly a… askilled actor. T-that looked… um… very real. M-maybe a bit too real.”“Are you okay, Joe? You’re really pale…” He laughs nervously and rubs his chestthrough the fabric of his polo shirt. You reach up and put your hand on top ofhis, lacing your fingers together. Joseph lets out a long, shaky breath. “Y-yes,I’m okay… C-could you maybe pick the n-next movie? One where you d-don’t die,preferably. I’ll… make us h-hot chocolate.” He stands up, but you pull him downagain and kiss him. You only draw back once you feel him smile, albeit weakly.

☕ After staring at the screen for what feels like hours, Mat finallyturns to look at you. His eyes are wide, shining in what you belatedly realiseare tears, and his mouth hangs open in shock. Then, suddenly, he’s in your lap,trembling like a leaf and, judging by the wet spot that’s spreading from wherehe has his face buried in your shoulder, crying. “Baby, it’s okay,” you say,patting his back. “I’m fine. That was only fake blood, I’m still here, aliveand breathing and also babbling.” Mat huffs into your shirt. “I know it’s notreal,” he whispers. “But it lookedlike it is, like you really died and…” He doesn’t finish the sentence, but hedoesn’t have to. You coo and press a kiss on his cheek. “I’m okay, baby, I won’tleave you anytime soon, I promise…” Some minutes go by, accompanied by thenoises coming from the TV. Finally, Mat draws back again and wipes his eyes. Helooks at you and you look back. “I sure hope you never starred in a musical,”Mat eventually says, breaking the silence. You blink. Then Mat breaks intolaughter and you join in moments later.

🌹 Damien slowly lowers his hand, with which he’s been covering his mouth immediatelyafter screaming the moment the shot rang through the air. As your characterslowly bleeds out, Damien’s eyes are glued to the screen. You’re still proud ofyour performance that day, the way you, if you could say so yourself, conveyedthe last moments of a man’s life as he’s dying. Damien’s reaction proves to youthat your acting is convincing. White as a sheet, Damien turns to you once thescene changes and cups your face, trailing his thumb along your cheekbone. Youraise your eyebrow questioningly; Damien blushes and drops his hand again. “I’mterribly sorry, it’s just… that looked quite real. All that blood… yourexpression… even the light in your eyes, extinguished, like a flame…” With achuckle you reach out and take his hands in yours, lifting them to your lips.Damien’s blush deepens as you kiss his knuckles. “Don’t worry about it, dear. I’mhappy my acting shook you like that. Means I did my job.” Damien laughs. “That’sone way to see it, indeed. Shall we watch another one?”

🎣 “That was…” Brian rubs the back of his headlooking anywhere but the TV screen, where the last minutes of your character’slife pass. His face is caught between shock and his usual, self-confident andcocky smirk. “Good. You’re a good actor.” By now, you know better than to takehis underplaying your accomplishments personally. You’ve come a long way since yourfirst meeting in the park and you know he isn’t serious. Truth be told, youfind his continuous attempts not to get excited adorable, particularly becausehe is bad at acting. As casually as humanly possible, Brian throws his arm overthe back of the couch and, consequently, your shoulders and pulls you close.There’s the finest of tremors going through his body. “Thanks. Did I make for aconvincing dying person?” Brian laughs, but it’s pathetic, compared to hisusual bellows. “I almost believed it.” You elbow his side. Brian nudges rightback and lifts his arm so you can curl up under it. “What would you suggest wewatch next?” You’re glad he can’t see your evil grin. “Oh, I know just theright one.(Two hours later, he’s bawling his eyes out. Terminal illnessesalways do the trick.)

👟 Craig’s face undergoes a journey ofexpressions. He goes from surprised to shocked, then over to sad before finallysettling on excited. He grasps you by the shoulders; at that moment he remindsyou of a puppy, lacking only the wagging tail and floppy ears. “Dude, that wassick! It looked so real and not just because of the blood! You really sold thatmoment. When you told me you wanted to become an actor in college, I neverwould have thought you’d be in something like that.” His beaming grin andsparkling eyes make you laugh softly. “Thanks bro. But who told you what I dofor a living?” He shrugs. “No one did, bro. I just remembered your career plansand was curious whether you managed to follow your dreams. Searched your nameon the internet. You have your own wikipedia page, isn’t that sick, bro?” Hisexcitement is contagious; you find yourself mirroring his grin. “Want to seethe first movie I starred in?” He offers you his fist and you bump yoursagainst it. “Hell yeah, bro!”

📖 Hugo clears his throat and nervously adjusts his glasses. He, like mostteachers, is an expert at hiding his emotions when need be, but at this moment,his thoughts are written on his face, plain as day. When he notices you lookingat him in amusement, he blushes and averts his eyes. You take the remotecontrol and pause the episode, the screen frozen on your lifeless eyes. Hugo’sshudder once he sees the image is barely noticeable, but your close proximitymeans you can feel it. “That was, well, quite impressive. Seeing you try to liein everyday life, I’d never have expected you could act.” With an indignantgasp, you lightly shove against his chest. He falls on his back, but you knowthat if he hadn’t wanted you to, you would not have been able to move him oneinch. “I’ll have you know I’m an excellent liar.” He raises his eyebrow. Youscoff. “Fine, I reserve my skills for work. Did you know I starred in AMidsummer Night’s Dream?” Hugo’s eyes darken a little. “No, I didn’t. Do youhave a recording?” He replies to your nod with a grin and a wink.

- Mod Mare

#dream daddy #dream daddy: a dad dating simulator #dream daddy a dad dating simulator #ddadds imagine #ddadds #Anonymous #death mention tw

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whalesfallmoved · 4 years ago

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hand over wound (1/??)

half an excuse to play around with form, style, and the second person pov. this isn’t what I typically write, so I’m ahhhhh about it all around. alas, FHR lives rent free in my head right now. only read over it a few times for mistakes, so apologies for any typos.

pairing: ricardo ortega/f!sidestep, pre-heartbreak rating: t word count: 2175 warnings: mentions of blood, injury. typical canon content.

[read on AO3.]

You’re in an apartment that isn’t yours with a man you shouldn’t trust and a gut bleeding out over his nice, expensive bathroom, and that doesn’t sound like the start of a bad joke so much as the start of the end of your life.

(If you could call it a life, if you could call it anything more than all your stolen seconds ticking down to this moment. Torn stitches— fucking stupid, stupid mistake, this is how they’re going to get you—)

(He’ll take you to a hospital and they’ll look and they’ll know and he’ll know and and and)

Fuck.

Two choices:

One. You can suck it up, ask for a first aid kit—he’ll have one, twice as nice as the one you’ve got and he doesn’t even need it—all those Ranger benefits he keeps trying to entice you with, go team! Maybe even some halfway decent painkillers.

You lock yourself in the bathroom, stitch yourself up clean enough to get out of here without bleeding on his floor, too. You can meet his questions with a hard laugh and a fuck off I’m fine go finish making the food I’m starving.

(and why the fuck did you come here why did you let yourself get swayed by his fast grins and his bright eyes? He isn’t your friend, he isn’t, even if he thinks he is.)

Fuck.

Two. You make a run for it. More questions. Potential for passing out in a dark alley. Vulnerable and wounded until you can get back to your own shitty place and hope to god Ortega doesn’t think to follow you. Which he will, you know he will, and you’re fast but he’s always been faster, just as quick on the draw with a mind of static to take your edge.

You pull the tight undershirt up higher, flinching at the sight of your own skin, focus on the blood rolling sluggish and hot instead of the flinty orange patterns. The wound’s deep and fresh and curled like a crooked smile.

Black clothes help. Red splatters vibrantly on the white marble counter, onto the floor, sticks to the soles of your feet (bare, shoes kicked off at the door.) You’ll have to clean that up. How the hell will you do that? With his goddamn bleach white towels?

God— fucking— fuck.

Okay. You can do this. You just ask. Ask for the first aid kit. Slam the door in his face. Or run.

You want to run. Feel that rabbit-heart drive bursting up under the skin to book it and maybe that’s what you need to do. Yes. That’s what you need to do. Leave Ortega the mess—you’ve saved his ass enough times you won’t feel bad about it, or at least not so bad you’ll apologize for it later (you never apologize, even when you maybe should) and—

A knock, and you jump, gasp. “Still alive in there?” He asks, that same smile-lilt to his voice. He’s teasing you, a little, but there’s an edge of concern too.

(shitshitshitshitshitshitfuck)

“Just give me a second.” You bite out, trying to sound put upon rather than panicked.

Shirt tugged down—fuck, that hurts—and your teeth sink into soft cheeks, hard enough to sting.

A pause. You wait for the sound of footsteps to move away from the door. Silence, instead.

Exhale.

“—Hey, are you alright?”

Goddamnit.

“I’m fine,” you drop to your knees and your side screams and the blood gets stickier, you can feel the fabric dragging with every move. Throw open the cabinets. Maybe he was organized for once in his life and put the first aid kit in here (fat chance) and nothing, nothing, just bare bones cleaning supplies.

Frustration and pain build up, you slam the cabinet with a teeth-clenched groan and the knock comes again, more insistent this time, hard knuckles on hard wood— can’t you just fuck off can’t you leave me alone why did i come here—

“Noa. What’s going on?”

“Nothing. God, what do you want?” You snarl, voice raising to a pitch.

“Are you hurt?”

“No.” Your hand clutches at your side and comes away red, smeary. You have to do something, you have to move. Think. You can’t stay here.

He’s not going to let you go. You should’ve just run while you had the chance, now he’s just outside the door waiting, on alert, knows you better than anyone (which isn’t saying much but it’s saying enough) and knows enough to not let you just snarl your way out of this.

Shaky inhale. “Maybe.”

“Okay,” he breathes—relief? you don’t know and it chafes, what’s there to be relieved about?—gives a softer laugh, “no big deal. Just open the door.”

You don’t want to do that. You really, really don’t want to do that. He’s going to want to help, he’s going to want to see, the way you’ve helped him before.

(warm brown skin interrupted by mods and scar tissue and the expanse of his back, defined muscle rippling under your fingertips— stay still, you snap, smacking his shoulder, and he laughs— ouch, watch it, I’m wounded— and that’s your own fault you idiot, needle/thread, and you lay his stitches so much neater than your own.)

“I… can’t.”

“...You can’t?”

“No.”

“Is it that bad?” His voice takes on a new edge, sharper now, the kind of break down the door, get the job done edge that comes with being a Ranger, you suppose. Not quite hard, still light enough to pass for his brand of charm-sly soothing, but you know better than to fall for that.

“I’m fine. Can you just…” you push up onto your feet, choking down another groan, pain splitting through your side like a disc-saw, “can you just get the first aid kit?”

You think you hear a faint curse, and then: “yeah, be right back.”

In the space between, panic sets in.

Panic’s a cold emotion, and it’s a sick kind of luxury. You never got to panic before, riding it out out out all silent scream while everyone else’s thoughts and feelings stuck to your teeth, wormed down to the base of your spine. With Ortega you’re alone in your head and the only thing left to do is wait. Fists clench, ease the shaking.

A few minutes pass, tick-tick-tick, and he’s at the door again, knock softer this time, and please, please, please leave me alone you want to say but you don’t, you just press your palm (red-stark) to your side, and maybe— maybe if you slam it open, it’ll knock him back long enough to give you a head start. You just have to get out—

“Noa.” He knocks again, and you think you hear his breath hitch, maybe, and you want to know what he’s thinking, you want to know so badly but it’s just deafening silence outside the door.

“Yeah… yeah.”

One hand to your pulsing gut, one hand shaking, the knob unlocks with a soft click, and you’re stumbling back into the bathroom, and he’s there, filling the doorway, eyes soft-hard and brow furrowed. His eyes flick over the counter, the floor (blood splatters, streaks of it) and he lets out another quiet string of curses, “what the hell happened—?”

He’s moving forward, and you stumble back till your knees hit the toilet.

You both still. Freeze. He’s got you cornered, and he knows it, he must know it, fuckfuckfuck— breathe, you have to breathe.

“You didn’t tell me you were hurt.” He murmurs, softer than before, one hand curled around the green-white first aid kit. Bandages. Stitches. Alcohol.

Maybe you could grab it. Run? No, that’s stupid— he’ll just grab you, shove you back, ask for answers you can’t and won’t give.

Fuck.

Again, you say: “I’m fine,” and feel your lips curl back, a snarl fit for a dog in a ring.

“Yeah, you look it,” he shakes his head, tries to smile, like he isn’t surprised but he wishes it were different, and he’s not going to get mad at you, not yet, we all get hurt in this business but it still can’t be different, it can’t be, asshole, so stop asking, “c’mon, let’s… go in the living room, and I’ll—”

“No,” you snap hard, working around the toilet toward the counter. A little more room that way, and you won’t sit, even though you’re starting to feel it, the shakes and the dizziness. Drip, drip, drip, and your hand curls tighter over your stomach.

“No?” He blinks, more confused than offended.

(you have such a delicate touch, he scoffs as you wrap pristine white bandages over the stitched gash, rough but slow, and you roll your eyes don’t get fucking shanked next time then, and he gasps, mock-offense, brown eyes sparkling, searching your mask for expression he won’t find but you’re smiling, you’re smiling because he’s beautiful.)

“Just give it to me. I can deal with it myself.”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s not as bad as it looks.” It is.

“Sure it isn’t.”

“It’s just a flesh wound, alright? Someone got a lucky scratch in that last fight. Didn’t think it’d open again. But it’s not that bad.”

“Well, I’m still not going to leave you here to stitch yourself up.”

Fucking— always so stubborn, why won’t he quit?

“Either give it or I leave. Take your pick.”

He stills, watching you, and you wonder how you look to him.

Like a scared animal? Wounded little monster he found and picked up for some fucking reason? What does he want with you? What is he thinking?

His eyes trail over you, clothes all black and layered, baggy enough to hide everything,

“You’re kidding.” He wants you to be kidding.

“Do I look like it?” You tilt your head back, challenging, stilling up—shoulders stiffen, legs numb, prepared to run or to fight. Like he’s not blocking the only exit, like he’s not the one person in the world you can’t outmaneuver—Sidestep brought down by a head full of silence and a pretty fucking face.

They would laugh at you. They will if this escalates, if he sees. He’s got all his good intentions, it’ll be the death of you. He’ll be the death of you.

“So what’s it gonna be?” It’s supposed to sound like a sneer-snarl but it comes out weak, the razor edge of fear sliding just under your tongue.

But he must miss it. Or chalk it up to something else. “You’re being ridiculous,” he shakes his head, “it’s really not an issue.”

Ortega, always believing the best of you. That you don’t want to inconvenience him.

He wants to stay.

(you’ve never had anyone who wants to stay before.)

“I just wanna do it myself, fucks sake.” You burst, cutting him off at the finish line, and now you’re up on your feet, reaching with your free hand for the kit, ripping it from his hand.

“Just...” what was the line? “Just go finish making the food, alright? I’m starving.” and he lets you take it, lets you slam it down on the counter. You drop your blood-wet palm and clench it, as if to say see I’m fine it’s not that bad and his eyes drift over you again, harder than before, and he’s annoyed, well that’s too bad.

“Can I at least…”

“No.”

Jaw clenches. Works. Ortega never knows when to not push, when to not be that wonder boy so full of heart, head first into the action, and you’re small potatoes so what the fuck is he doing here, really, with you? There’s a dozen other vigilantes in Los Diablos that would probably work with him, that would fall for his knockout smile twice as fast and twice as hard.

(oh, you’ve fallen alright, but he doesn’t need to know that.)

But he knows you. He does. More and less than he thinks he does. And he knows you’re not bluffing. You’ll leave.

Shoulders still raised, jaw still stubborn, he slowly nods and steps back. You feel relief unshutter in your chest. “Alright,” he sighs, slumps.

Does he want you to stay? Or does he just want to make sure you don’t pass out in some grimy back alley to get picked over?

It doesn’t really matter.

(why is he letting this go that easily?)

“If you say it’s not that bad, I’ll believe you,” he nods, and it feels like a lie, sticks around in your skin the way lying does when someone lies with their mouth but not with their thoughts. “Just let me know if I can do anything, alright?” Smile, again, he’s always smiling except when he isn’t, effortlessly charming.

“...Okay.” You mutter. There isn’t anything he can do, and you both know you won’t ask.

You stand off, not flinching and not moving as he steps back, hands twitching at his sides—to raise them in surrender or grab you, you don’t know, so as soon as he’s through the door you grab it, slam it closed, lock it fast.

Safe. Or as safe as you can be.

Fuck.

#ricardo ortega #fhr #mywriting #hand over wound*#also known as: I wrote this instead of an essay #did I proof read it? no.#*forgot the ao3 link mndfgnmf whoops

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and-the-nerding-goes-on · 8 years ago

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Bad Day

Warnings: crying

Word Count: 597

Pairing: Jason x reader (platonic or romantic)

________________________________________________________________

Jason slid silently through your apartment window, glad to have a closer place to stay tonight. You always let him crash on your couch, even patched him up when they could. He always knew what to expect, too. ‘Are you hurt? Do you want something to eat? How was patrol? Do I need to go kick batman’s ass for being mean?’ You always worried so much and were always just the thing he needed after a long patrol, even if you didn’t realize it. Since his patrol ended early, he decided to visit and hang out a little before crashing.

Normally, there would be music or a movie playing, or the soft clicking of an out modded laptop keyboard Jason wished you would let him replace that trickled through the apartment. A light or two should be on, but tonight all the lights were out leaving a faint glow from Gotham’s street signs outside. Tonight, all the vigilante could hear were quiet sniffles and choked sobs echoing from the bathroom. Jason slipped his helmet off and left it on the couch as he may his way over to the door, a tight pang in his chest hearing you struggle to not cry.

You were curled up into a ball, almost trying to hide behind the shower curtain on the bathroom’s tiled floor. Eyes red and puffy from the tears that stained your cheeks, it was clear you were on the back end of a good long cry.Jason froze for a moment, shocked at how vulnerable and shaky the normally vibrant person before him seemed. Just a few hours before he had seen you dancing around your apartment in one of his T-shirts and your underwear, hair bouncing wildly and smile beaming. But he knew better than anyone how bad a bad day could get.

He quickly snapped out of it, moving to take off his shoes and kick them aside before sitting down in front of you. He rested his leather jacket around your form, now chilled to the core, wondering how long you had been like this. The jacket carried the aromas of Jason and Gotham’s streets that you had come to know so well: savory cologne and musky sweat, the tang of bloody knuckles and earthy wet leather, even the faint smell of cigarette smoke and mossy alleyway bricks. It was a uniquely enveloping sense of comfort. Jaybird slipped a foot beneath your legs and pulled you into his lap, untangling your arms so they would close around his shoulders. He held you close, still and calm until whatever storm enveloping you had passed.

After the last tendrils of shakiness left your body and you no longer squeaked out feeble sobs, Jason pressed a pair of warm lips to your temple and carried you slowly to your bed and tucked you under the blankets. He brushed his fingers through your hair gently, rubbing little circles in your shoulders and back when he reach its ends.

“Do you want me to go?” he whispered, the softness that you saw so rarely but loved so dearly ringing through his voice. You looked at him and shook your head meekly, finally moving your hand and lacing your fingers through his. At the slightest tug on his hand he was under the covers letting you bury your face in his chest and tangle your legs around his, trying to get every ounce of comfort from his presence. Jason wrapped his jacket around you tighter, settling in so he could make sure you were okay in the morning.

#depression #batfam #Jason todd #jason todd x reader #bad day #good long cry #soft Jason todd #red hood #red hood x reader #chipsmakes

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onlymorelove · 8 years ago

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Fic: this is not a love story (1/1)

Title: this is not a love story (1/1) Fandom: Timeless Ships: Lucy Preston/Garcia Flynn AND Lucy Preston/Wyatt Logan but no Garcyatt Rating: PG-13 Summary: Written in response to the following prompt from @timeless-fanfic-prompts : “Not all love is gentle. Sometimes it’s gritty and dirty and possessive, sometimes it’s not supposed to be careful or soft at all. Sometimes it feels like teeth." — Azra T. [Lyatt. Garcy. Yes, both. No Garcyatt.]

Read under the cut, on AO3, or at FF.net.

Tagging @timeless-fanfic-prompts even though I couldn’t get this finished before the contest deadline. :) Thanks, mods, for posting prompts! Also tagging @garcynetwork .

If you read this, thanks. Feedback is treasured; constructive criticism is welcomed.

Once upon a night in 2016 a Homeland Security agent whisked Lucy Preston away from a bitter conversation with her sister about how the university had denied her tenure, to an industrial gray and black waiting room at Mason Industries. A man, a stranger, leaned back in a chair on the other side of the room, his eyes closed as if asleep. Short, dark hair stippled his jaw. His booted feet lounged on a glass-topped table as if he was just someone relaxing at home. She envied him his obvious ease. Why had Agent Kondo brought her there? Had she done something wrong? She fingered her locket and tried to ignore the way her nerves pinged, her stomach churned, and her knee wanted to jiggle up and down. OK, so maybe she had an unpaid campus parking ticket lying in the console of her car, but— “Are you asleep?”

In her head, she’d already dubbed the man in the jeans and boots Sleepy. “No, ma’am,” Sleepy said.

“Oh. Okay, good. This is Connor Mason’s company? Do you know why we’re here?”

“No idea, ma’am.”

“You know, we're pretty much the same age, so you can just stop calling me ma'am.”

Sleepy’s eyes opened, beaming all their blues at her.

Lucy blinked. Oh, she thought. Maybe she’d have to reconsider that nickname.

His mouth arced in a slow, lopsided smile. Lucy inhaled sharply. Oh, she thought again.

The first time she saw him it was on a computer screen. Coal-dark hair, green eyes, and a slender, unsmiling mouth. She shivered but could not look away.

“Garcia Flynn, ex-NSA asset in Eastern Europe,” Agent Christopher said.

“Ex since when?” Wyatt asked.

“Since he killed his wife and child and went off the grid. That was a year ago. We thought he was holed up in Chechnya, but apparently not.”

What kind of man murdered his wife and child?

It was with the flaming skeleton of the Hindenburg dying next to them, pandemonium and screams puncturing the night air, that she stood with Garcia Flynn for the first time. He loomed out of the darkness, a tall creature wreathed in shadow.

“It’s time we talked,” he said, and the charcoal-smudge impression in front of Lucy resolved into a man. A tower of a man holding a gun trained in her direction. She had to tilt her chin up to meet his blistering gaze, while he tipped his down. Firelight burnished his hair red. The two-dimensional image Agent Christopher had shown her had not prepared her for the weight and vibrancy of Flynn’s presence. “You need to understand who and what we’re dealing with,” he said. His eyes traced her face as if seeking an answer to a question she didn’t know how to ask yet.

His voice, she knew it—had heard it ring out across the barren landscape of her dreams, even if she had never met its owner before. The rough timbre of his speech and the way he elongated his A’s—all of that was familiar to her in a way that defied understanding. “I understand that you’re a psychopath trying to burn everything to the ground,” she said, ashamed at the tremor in her voice.

“Well, that depends on your point of view, Lucy.” Her name slipped from his lips like a caress—the murmur of a thumb stroked over the top of her hand.

Babylon burned all around them, and this man, this stranger with the voice and the eyes she knew somehow— This man was responsible. Terrorist, they called him. Danger, her mind whispered, here there be dragons. Ignoring the klaxon that blared in her head, shoving aside all common sense and logic, Lucy stepped closer to him. “How do you know my name?”

“I know everything about you.”

He held open a book, a journal, and showed her pages filled with her own handwriting. Of course she recognized her own penmanship, but how could that be, when she possessed no memory of writing the words? Impossible, and yet… Hadn’t she journeyed on a ship back through time?

“Do you believe in fate?” Robert Todd Lincoln asked her at a train station in 1865. Did she?

Flynn found her there, fresh from her encounter with Lincoln. Lincoln, upright and handsome in his dress blues. Lincoln, with the soft gleam in his eyes.

In daylight Flynn was all formidable lines and stern angles, his hands folded stiffly behind his back. His nose was a touch too long; his mouth sat tense and unforgiving. Only a few feet separated them as she cursed him for being the reason for her sister’s disappearance.

He didn’t hold her there with a gun this time. No, this time he pinned her with only the electric flare of his eyes. He arrested her. The elegant score of his eyebrows beneath his creased forehead captivated her in a way it should not as he threw around words like Rittenhouse, war, and future.

If there was any softness in this man, her eyes could not find it.

But her ears heard it every time he uttered her name.

“Lucy, one day you are going to help me,” he said and wrapped the sound of her name in that silken familiarity. A wave of warmth, wholly unwanted, cascaded over her as if Flynn had touched her.

She wanted him to touch her.

Beyond all logic and reason, in defiance of all the sense her mother had tried to instill in her, Lucy wanted to touch Flynn, this strange man with phantoms and future trajectories and vengeance in his eyes. She could cut herself on the dagger point of his lips and not care that she bled. The skin on her palms craved the harsh geometry of his face, so she argued twice as hard, her tone strident and brutal, teeth snapping, antagonizing Flynn even as she questioned the wisdom of doing so.

His large hand closed hard around the fine bones of her wrist, light catching on the gold ring that encircled his fourth finger. Thus manacled, Lucy fought back the tears of humiliation that suddenly clouded her vision.

If there was any softness in this man, her eyes could not find it.

In 1865 Lucy flirted her way into an invitation to Ford’s Theater with Robert Todd Lincoln. She donned a white gown sprinkled with silvery blue flowers, and when she came out from behind the changing screen she watched Wyatt’s lips echo that same half-smile from the night they met. Strands of his hair slashed down across his forehead, and her fingers twitched with the traitorous impulse to push them back.

Flynn shot Abraham Lincoln in front of her that night; his blood christened her dress in a macabre series of Rorschach blots.

Blood brutalized her dress.

Blood marked her skin.

Blood thrummed thick and fast in her ears.

“I decided I was gonna let it happen. But then I called out to warn him. It was too late. It's one thing to talk about history like this abstract thing. But when the man gets shot right in front of you… I tried,” she said in an effort to convince herself she had done her utmost to save Abraham Lincoln’s life. The words offered her no solace as she recounted her tale to Rufus and Wyatt in the half-dark interior of the Lifeboat. Lucy’s throat closed up and she found she couldn’t continue. Wordless and heavy, she floundered in a vast sea of guilt and grief.

Until Wyatt’s hand curled over hers, knuckles resting on her blood-stiffened clothing.

In the welcome pressure of his hand, the steady warmth of his gaze, and the steadfast bow of his mouth, she found an anchor.

In 1962 she listened to Wyatt dictate a telegram to send his dead wife in 2012. (Time travel—its risks, its paradoxes, all of it—raked her thoughts into hopeless knots. But the human heart and its capacity to expand, to contract, to shatter, and continue beating, well, these were timeless things.) Over the irregular click clack of the typewriter keys, Wyatt’s voice trudged on, its cadence shaky and tinged navy with sadness.

This moment, she hadn’t meant to witness it, and the guilt of intruding on her teammate’s privacy licked hot at her skin. Then he turned around and caught her watching him; he donned his armor, made a joke and strode away from her. But his eyes shone too bright; his head hung too low, and he had no other easy quip or crooked smile to offer her. All his other masks fell away while anguish sheathed his features like a second skin, and she could not let him leave.

“Wyatt.”

“I know what you’re going to say.”

“No, you don’t. Look. I understand. I would do anything to get my sister back.”

“Look, I’m sorry about before. I get it’s your job, keeping history the way it’s meant to be. I don’t believe in ‘meant to be,’ though, or fate, or anything like that, and if you knew how Jess died...You would know there’s no such thing. It’s all just dumb luck and random chance. It’s just a roll of the dice.”

Wyatt’s voice reverberated with old pain; she recognized it. With her sister’s loss still a fresh injury, she felt a certain kinship with him.

That was when Lucy began to believe in ghosts.

1836 found Lucy and her team chasing Flynn to the Alamo Mission in what was then still Mexico. Hundreds would die there. Hundreds of souls burned white-hot and true, souls just like hers or Rufus’ or Wyatt’s, then flickered, before they were finally snuffed out. It didn’t get easier, riding a metal bucket of bolts and vibrations through history to witness life’s end over and over again and knowing she shouldn’t do much, if anything at all, to alter history’s tragic outcomes. Contemplating these ethical dilemmas for too long would lead, she knew with a bone-deep certainty, to insanity.

There in 1836, while the dry wind flicked sandy soil into her skirts, Lucy peeled back more of the mysteries that lay behind Wyatt’s blue eyes. Six men—his men—all soldiers like him, had died so he could complete his mission and carry out crucial intelligence. She overheard him confess this to Colonel Bowie. Yet another private moment she shouldn’t have witnessed, though honesty made her admit, if only to herself, that she didn’t regret it. Couldn’t regret it. Because she wanted to know Master Sergeant Wyatt Logan, and every piece of his history she learned was a dot in the Pointillist painting that would eventually reveal his complete image.

Fine grains of soil clung to Lucy’s skin as musket and rifle fire thundered around her. Until recently, war had seemed an abstract entity, a mirage shimmering hot in the distance: something fought in distant lands or at least distant times. Now, though, war was this, a man who could not forget:

“I'm not going,” Wyatt said.

“What? No. What do you mean?” “You don't need me. They're getting rid of me anyway, right?”

Lucy looked at him in horror. “You can't stay here. Everybody dies.”

“No, I know. I can't leave good men like this, not again.”

Wyatt Logan was a good man, too; he acted as her sword and her shield and Lucy would not leave him behind to perish with everyone else left at the Alamo Mission. “No. No, Wyatt.”

“What difference does it make? Jessica, everyone I care about is gone. Let me do one good thing. Let me buy you the time to get out.”

Jessica. He was so mired in his own grief and memories that he had called her by another woman’s name.

“What about us? We're counting on you,” Lucy said, desperate to convince him.

“The next guy's gonna handle it.”

“I don't want anybody else. Look, I trust you. You are the one that I trust. Rufus needs you. I need you. Okay?” Her lips formed the words she thought would be the right ones to persuade him. Underscoring her words, she fit her hands to his face and let their warmth and pressure guide Wyatt out of the past and forward into the present. I need you.

1934 took them to Arkansas—and Bonnie Parker and Clyde Barrow. Their love affair was doomed, Lucy knew, and seeing them together was... difficult. Their desire for each other was so stark, so vivid, that Lucy had to ignore the hot blood she felt flood her cheeks and force herself: to look at them when they spoke and to go through all the right motions to maintain her and Wyatt’s cover. Bonnie and Clyde wanted each other, and that want was almost a tangible, visible thing, a circuit of raw hunger cycling back and forth between them. Watching them was torture. Wyatt spoke up in a low, gruff rumble. He spun a tale about himself kneeling on a hill in West Texas in front of the woman he loved, with a ring box in his hand and the sunset as a witness. There was a kiss, he told them, a kiss he’d never forget. Lucy knew he told the truth; this story was his story—his and Jessica’s. It was— It was something about the way his eyes turned remote, suspended in memory, and his body grew still. Finally, when Lucy was sure she could not bear it any longer, Wyatt turned to her and said, “You remember that, honey?”

It was all she could do to stutter out a “Yeah” and hope her nervous laugh didn’t give them away to Bonnie and Clyde.

Then he kissed her, stealing her surprised breath into his lungs. His palm found a home on the curve of her cheek as if they had done this a thousand times before. Through the whirling chaos in her mind and her body Lucy reminded herself that this, this was pretend. She fought to remain academic. She fought to divorce herself from the intimacy of pressing her mouth to Wyatt’s, especially since she couldn’t even count how many months it had been since she had last shared space and breath with someone like that.

It didn’t matter that Wyatt tasted faintly of hooch and of light—of sunlight filtered through a damp forest canopy of green leaves awakening in springtime. The grains of light hair on his jaw tickled her fingertips. Lucy wanted to slide her hand into his hair and curve it around his skull. I need you so much closer.

It didn’t matter. Her fingers quivered on the hard line of his jaw. This was acting. Nothing more.

In 1780 Lucy, Rufus, and Wyatt teamed up, unbelievably, with Flynn. Crisp early-autumn air slid its cool fingers under Lucy’s wine-dark cloak while she listened to Flynn murmur to their horses as he helped them slake their thirst. “Hey, buddy.” She blinked at the gentle, slip-slide lilt in his voice. Perhaps she’d imagined it. But, no, there it was once again as he tended the animals. Those tones, overflowing with affection and warm splashes of color, were ones she had never heard from him before.

If there was any softness in this man, her eyes could not find it.

But her ears, oh her ears, they found it.

She swallowed hard and tried to shake off her desire to curl up against that kind voice like a cat dozing in a puddle of afternoon sunlight.

“I wanted to be a cowboy growing up,” he said. Growing up. They’d all had to do it. She’d never considered, though, that Garcia Flynn had once been a child, too. Did he have nightmares when he was little? Who had stroked the dark hair from his forehead and soothed him back to sleep? His mother? His father? And what had he looked like as a little boy? Had those solemn green eyes always held so much torment? His face must have been fuller and held more softness back then….

Flynn continued speaking, tugging her from her musings as he told her about some comics he’d read as a child. Terms like “good guys” and “bad guys” fell from his lips, and Lucy silently asked, Which do you think you are—a good guy or a bad guy?

Lucy discovered she hungered for more knowledge of him. It wasn’t fair that he knew so much about her from a journal that she, or rather some version of her, had written. It added a strange, one-sided layer of intimacy to their interactions. The imbalance troubled her. This was the most open he had ever been with her. Who knew when he would slam the door shut and bolt it from the other side? She decided to take advantage of the moment. “If we take out Rittenhouse, then what will you do?”

“Go home to my family. They'll be alive again. Let my little girl jump into my arms. Hug my wife. And then say goodbye and walk away forever.”

That he had responded at all rather than shaking off her question altogether sent a surge of shock through her. “What? You would just... you would just leave them after all that we've been through?”

“Chasing Rittenhouse, I've done horrible things... become something else. How can I bring that into my home? What kind of husband or... or a father can I be after what I've done?”

Without meaning to, Flynn had even answered the question she had not dared to ask aloud: Which do you think you are—a good guy or a bad guy?

Flynn had immolated history and stood ready to throw himself on the pyre as well simply to put his family back in the world. He didn’t intend to share a life with them; he only wanted to know they were alive. Without him.

A pang of melancholy sounded somewhere in the deep recesses of the small muscle that pumped blood through Lucy’s body. Had anyone ever loved her as much as Flynn loved his wife and daughter? Would anyone? Would she ever love someone that much?

Flynn pointed his gun at John Rittenhouse, a boy, a person whose only crime was being born to the wrong man.

There was no other choice: Lucy put herself between Flynn and the boy. Though she had no sword, she could be a shield; she would be a shield. “I’m not letting you kill a child,” she said, and that was it: She understood now that the war she and Rufus and Wyatt fought was against Rittenhouse, not Flynn, but she could not remain a bystander in that moment. She wasn’t fool enough to think she was Flynn’s conscience, but she believed— She had to believe that he still had his own conscience, buried beneath layers of silt and rock and the misery of someone who had lost everything and found that yes, he could go still go on living.

She searched his face—absorbed the lines of strain around his mouth and eyes, and the unsteadiness of his shooting arm. “You have a choice right now. We all have choices… You can go back, but not if you do this.”

It was finished, or nearly so: Ethan Cahill, her grandfather, had come through for her. For all of them. Because of his meticulous notes and records, the authorities had arrested 150 Rittenhouse members. She’d make one last trip on the Lifeboat and get her sister back. Soon she and Amy and their mother would be reunited. Life would go back to normal, and they’d be a real family, a whole family, once again. The thought should have filled Lucy with exhilaration and joy, and it did. But those emotions sat side by side with a sensation of dread as she remembered her final exchange with Flynn when he’d been arrested and dragged away to a military prison:

“No! No! I trusted you, Lucy. I trusted you with my family. I trusted you with my child!”

“I’m sorry!” she’d said, aware of how hollow the words rang even as she spoke them. She hadn’t known that Agent Christopher had followed her to her rendezvous with Flynn, but she should have. Her naivete had cost him his chance to get his family back.

“Oh, you're sorry? You're sorry? You have no idea what you've done!”

The situation had twisted so quickly, and Lucy had no power to fix it. Only minutes before, he’d handed her the journal, her journal. His lips had curved in a smile then, a real smile that wiped the harshness and rigidity from his face and replaced it with something soft and almost...vulnerable. It was so unlike the dangerous copy of a smile he usually wielded like both a weapon and a wound that Lucy had smiled back, helpless to do anything else.

No matter what paths her future might take, that smile would haunt her.

“How do you think I met your father?” Lucy’s mother said. “We both come from good, strong Rittenhouse families. And that almost makes you royalty. Sweetheart, you've made me so proud. You've made everybody so proud. You have such... such an incredible future.”

Her mother was Rittenhouse. Her father was Rittenhouse. Ergo she was Rittenhouse as well. Her mother said there was a Rittenhouse agent on the Mothership. Nothing was over. Nothing was finished.

Lucy’s stomach roiled, the sour taste of bile surging inside her mouth. Her hand clapped over her mouth as she wrenched herself away from her mother and the obscene sheen of pride singing in her opaque blue gaze. She raced upstairs to her bathroom, silently cursing her clumsiness when she stumbled on a step and went down hard, her knees and shin taking the brunt of the damage.

(Everything she and her teammates had done, every life they’d either taken or been unable to save, every single principle Flynn had violated—all of it had been for naught.)

When Lucy made it to the bathroom the porcelain of the toilet was a cool benediction under her clammy fingertips, and she clung to it as she lost the fight with her stomach and everything she’d eaten that day poured out into the toilet bowl. She retched until she was sure nothing lingered in her stomach--nothing but a tangled skein of betrayal. Still, her body heaved, the floor unforgiving against her kneecaps. On shaky feet, she stood, the ground beneath her rolling like a boat on choppy waters.

Run, said a voice in her head. Just run. But where—and to whom? Flynn would understand her confusion and her anger; he would feed the latter until it sent fingers of flame reaching to the sky. Moreover, he would know what to do next. He would know best how to attack Rittenhouse.

But Flynn was no longer an option; he sat in prison, and it was her fault, at least in part. She couldn’t blame him for thinking of that, even though she hadn’t knowingly betrayed him. Oh god, Lucy thought. What if her parents were directly responsible for the murders of Flynn’s wife and daughter? Nausea crashed over her again, so she shoved those thoughts aside and stuffed them into a box to examine later. Or maybe never.

Lucy trudged to her bedroom and yanked at various drawers until she found her journals, both the one Flynn had given her (returned to her?) and the one her mother had gifted her. She threw them in a bag and left the house, not pausing again until she sat behind the wheel of her car. Sweat beaded on her upper lip, and her blazer felt like it was strangling her. She tore it off as quickly as she could and tossed it on the passenger seat. Her hands tightened on the steering wheel until the leather creaked and her knuckles whitened with strain.

Lies. Lies. So many lies. Her grandfather had lived a life of lies, danger, and subterfuge, all because she had asked him to. He had sacrificed his happiness. And for what?

She breathed through her nose, scrambling for calm; she didn't find it. With a sigh that ruffled the locks of hair that had fallen into her sweat-damp face, Lucy released the steering wheel and fumbled for her phone.

She sent Wyatt a text. Pls meet me at your place.

It felt like years passed while she waited for his response. What’s up? You OK?

Eyes closed, she pictured Wyatt sitting in the upstairs conference room or maybe the locker room at Mason Industries, eyeing his phone with a frown creasing his forehead. Was she OK?

She typed a response before she could think better of it. No. I need you.

Her phone chimed with his reply mere seconds later. On my way.

Why bother with preamble? Lucy thought, pushing past Wyatt into the hallway of his apartment as soon as he opened the door to her rapid series of knocks. “My mother is Rittenhouse.”

Wyatt blinked rapidly. “What?”

“My mother”—she shoved her hands into her hair and tugged until her scalp smarted and tears sprang to her eyes—“is Rittenhouse, Wyatt. I'm an idiot. The world’s biggest moron. God, how could I not see it? She’s been lying this whole time. She’s been lying my whole life. ” Lucy tossed the last words over her shoulder like a grenade as she stalked to his living room. She knew she was talking too fast, everything rushing out in a confusing torrent, but she couldn't stop.“My mom’s Rittenhouse. My fa—” Eyes screwed tight, she paused in her tirade and shook her head before continuing.

“Whoa. Take a breath. Slow down, Lucy—”

“My biological father is Rittenhouse.” Her voice shook and she hated it—hated herself—for the weakness. She folded her arms in front of her chest and paced in front of Wyatt’s brown leather couch. Head down she stared at the worn hardwood floor and stalked five steps one way before she spun on her heel and stalked five steps the other way. Click click click click click went the heels of her sensible, low-heeled black shoes. The floor started to blur into a golden brown streak. She inhaled an unsteady breath. “It’s in my blood…And my sister is gone and my mother doesn't care. She's known all this time and it doesn't matter to her. How can her daughter not matter to her?”

A floorboard creaked. There was a shift, of energy, of presence, then Wyatt stepped up behind her. Gentle fingers curled around her biceps; warm breath stirred her hair. Wyatt turned her until she faced him. Still, her gaze remained downcast, focused on the contrast between the curved toes of her shoes and Wyatt’s naked feet. They looked...oddly vulnerable, in a way that made her throat tighten. “Is my whole life just a series of false choices my parents designed for me?” Lucy asked, her voice quiet. “Have they… Has Rittenhouse been the puppeteer all this time, and I've just been the fucking puppet?” Her voice rose; Wyatt’s hands tightened on her arms. “I don't know what's real and what's a lie. I don't… I don’t know who I am,” she said, an unwelcome catch in her voice. Her gaze finally lifted to meet Wyatt’s.

His eyes were somber and calm as they watched her steadily, and she was glad she had gone there—gone to him. “We’ll figure things out,” he said, and she nodded, because she had faith in him, even if she couldn't quite believe his words just yet. “It’s OK, Lucy. Luce,” Wyatt said, moving a hand from her arm to the back of her neck, “hey, I know who you are.” He pressed a kiss to her cheek. “I know who you are,” he said again, his breath puffing against her skin as he tilted her chin, leaned in, and kissed her.

She made a small sound in her throat, then stumbled backward in an effort to put some distance between them. Her hand rose to her throat. “No,” she said into the horrible silence, pained by the stark lines of shock and embarrassment she caught on Wyatt’s face. Right before her eyes, his expression shuttered, the openness that had been there scant moments before hidden by one of his masks. She was responsible for that, and she hated herself despite the necessity. Something aching and hollow opened in her stomach. “I'm...I’m so sorry, Wyatt. I just—” It had been their first kiss or at least the first one that wasn’t done for show, and she had ruined it because she had to. “It’s not you. We just can't do this right now.”

A few hours ago Wyatt had talked about focusing on the present and being open to possibilities. Of course she'd known what he was hinting at, and a part of her had been happy, even as Flynn’s face had flashed into her mind, filling her with sadness, guilt—and something else she might never be ready to face. That was before, when they had thought their work as a team was complete. That was before she had talked to her mother. Squaring her shoulders, she looked him directly in the eyes; they owed each other that much. “My mom said she and Rittenhouse are proud of me. I don't trust myself or my actions right now. How do I know I'm not doing exactly what they want me to do?”

“Lucy why would Rittenhouse care if we...if we kiss?”

“I don’t know.” She rubbed at her forehead, at the tightness there. “I don’t know, Wyatt. Maybe they wouldn’t. But I can’t… No, we can’t focus on”—Lucy waved a hand between them—“this right now.” She gasped and raised a hand, intending to touch his arm, but he retreated a step. Her hand dropped back to her side, heavy as a boulder. “We need to call Agent Christopher. Wyatt, my mother said someone from Rittenhouse is on the Mothership. ” It should have been the first thing she’d said when Wyatt let her into his apartment, but she’d been upset and… No, there was no good excuse. She’d simply messed up.

Wyatt’s phone rang. Lucy’s followed a few seconds later. “Logan,” Wyatt answered, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. Uh huh. Got it. Lucy’s… here. On our way.” After he hung up, he said, “That was Agent Christopher. Your mom was telling the truth; someone does have the Mothership. Emma. Let’s go.” He turned and started to walk away, shoulders hunched, and every step he took seemed to take him miles from her. “Wyatt,” she said softly, and he paused, “I really am sorry. I’m not trying to hurt you. It’s not the right time, and—”

“Forget it, ma’am,” he said, interrupting her and waving away her apology. He smiled, but it was brittle and didn’t reach those beautiful blue eyes she— “We’ve got a briefing to get to.” With that, he disappeared into his bedroom.

Like a puppet whose strings had just been cut, Lucy collapsed onto the couch and closed her eyes, her body and spirit leaden, and waited for Wyatt to return so they could head back to Mason Industries.

#nbc timeless #lucy preston #garcia flynn #wyatt logan #lyatt #garcy #Timeless fanfiction #onlymorelove writes fic

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v3-killing-harmony-imagines · 8 years ago

Text

The guys as the mastermind

OK I’m working on the girls and boys separated because I don’t want it to be a super long post, so first up are the boys!

mod saihara from the future: I lied, this is a long post

Saihara:

you didn’t want to think it

think that the shy, kind boy could cause all of this

but there he is, grinning at the survivors

and he’s not the same

his eyes are a hallow brown color, absorbing light instead of reflecting it

the trial room is set up with the photos of the dead students, detective-like notes written next to them

“too easy.” “sloppy murder.”

you pray that you’re dreaming

you’re not

Saihara is ranting about how he wanted to see the bodies of others, the look of terror on everyone’s faces

and he knows he’s done bad things, he keeps saying that he’s bad

and everyone is screaming at him, at you, and just screaming in general

you’re screaming and tears are running down your face because you loved him, you loved him you loved him you loved him

he was so kind and shy and adorable, and you really did hope hw would survive with you

n o p e

he’s not angry, he seems to be enjoying it

he’s shivering, his face curled in bliss

“T-that’s right, I’ve been bad, So…..wrap your fingers around my throat and give me what I deserve. Drive a knife into my chest and twist until im begging for you to stop.”

you yell at him, was is all a lie?

was every moment you two promised to kill the mastermind, as that all a lie?

he turns to you, bliss still in his eyes

“Oh..s/o…you know…i really really don’t mind if you all get out, i just wanted to see everyone fall……..and not it’s time for you…”

he approaches you, holds out a knife

“Kill me yourself, and everyone will be allowed to leave, if you don’t, everyone is going to die…..make your choice.”

what

you can’t, you just can’t

you look around, no one know what to do either

how are you supposed to kill him?

he tells you that you have to, you’ll die if you don’t

Saihara or everyone else

you have to get everyone else out

Your body is trembling, you have to

Saihara smiles and spreads his arms out

You have to do it

but your body won’t move

you try, and it doesn’t work

you just can’t

Saihara looks sad, for a second

“S/o…Please.”

and then you know that Saihara wants you to kill him

you give him one look in his eyes, and you know he wants it

you close your eyes as you do it, you feel Saihara gasp as he wraps his arms around you,his breaths shaky and his body convulsing

“Thank..you..s/o…I loved…”

he falls

the doors are open

you tell everyone you just want to be alone, they do

and then you look at the blood spreading from his body

you sit there for a long time, crying

and then you get up, and join the outside world

Kiibo:

They were debating the mastermind’s identity

It was down to the final 5, everyone was on edge to end things

They begin to suspect that the mastermind has to be someone not human….

they’re accusing Kiibo, you’re trying to protect him

he’s sweating and pleading that he wouldn’t, he couldn’t

S W I T C H

he shudders, makes an eerie creepy squealing noise and then falls to the ground

and then, slowly, he rises up, eyes shut

he stays like that, everyone looking wary as the robot stands like a pillar in the middle of his podium

finally, he opens with a snap

Wine red eyes, not emotion“Finally.”

you ask him what’s wrong,his has to be a virus, right?

He seems to think about this, and then replies with a synthetic ‘no’

“ I’m Kiibo, just the other Kiibo was, you all must have questions so let me explain.”

He tells you how he was created, Kiibo #1. He was created as a killing machine, made to fight in wars at first.

“But of course, being a being with no emotion wasn’t good, my fellow soldiers did not trust me.”

So they made Kiibo#2, the kid, shy Robot that everyone had gotten to know, the one that you taught about your life, the one you ended up spending more time with

that Kiibo had fallen for you

This Kiibo has no feature for love

Kiibo #2 was to draw enemies in, and once they were in, Kiibo #1 switches and finishes the job

eventually, he was out of control, he was going to be terminated

so he killed his creators, he was far more intelligent than them

of course, now that everyone has found him out…they are useless

The remaining survivors are yelling at Kiibo #1, asking what the whole point was, what was the purpose was

But it seems that Kiibo#1 isn’t interested in them anymore

He takes them out before they can scream

you stare, terrorized as the blood of your friends sprays out, painting the walls red

You feel the back of your neck crawl as he approaches you

“ You know, my other side has great feelings for you. That is why it seems I did not kill you along with the rest of them.”

you stare at him, not wanting to believe. You just want Kiibo. You just want him back to the way he was.

but you know in your heart that it can’t, and it will never

“So therefore…I shall keep you, you see, I feel comfort just looking at you.”

You let him pick you up with un-human strength. He sits you down on a couch, and begins to stroke your hair

He seems to almost be happy, as you black out

Kaito:

He’s closed the barred doors to the doors the second he’s found out

everyone begins to panic, you yell at him to cut the jokes

‘Hah! What joke s/o?”

He looks like he’s on laughing gas, swaying to and fro

of course he isn’t lying, I mean, he isn’t Ouma right

you can see Amami visibly flinch at that name, he’s still not over that…

You tell Kaito to shut up, he looks high

it takes him a second for his eyes to roll over to you, grinning that placid grin as normal

He will not be silenced

He guess he might as well tell it to you, there isn’t enough time anyways

You ask him what he means, he tells you all in good time..

He starts from the destruction of humanity, the great war had polluted the air, water and destroyed the land

and then the virus

humans had no chance to leave, flee in ships in hope to rebuild

they built an artificial home, artificial gravity spaceships in the sky

“But that was poisoned.”

He goes on, everyone ready to interrupt, but he tells them to shut up, or he will stop talking. forever

they had infected passengers, the adults had gotten together to destroy them..

but they failed

they all died, saving all the remaining youths

little as they knew, as their children threw their bodies into the abyss that there was 1 more infected

and soon the youth had to all be killed

The younger ones were all killed my the older ones..

the older ones didn’t want to die

so one person wiped them of memories, put them into a situation where he could survive…and everyone else could be killed

that was Kaito

every time he said infected, you could feel your skin prickle

No one believed him, all yelling at him to show the proof

he told them that they all know the proof, waking up in a strange outfit, experiencing strange itching feelings, blacking out…feeling the ‘school’ tremor once in a while

no one had a contradiction for that

Kaito told them, he had scheduled for the air lock to go off in 10 minutes time, if they could stop that…they would be saved

with a wave of his hand, the door opened;and after a moments talk, everyone ran into the room, except for you

you needed to talk to him

when you were finally alone with him, you slapped him

‘ow..that huuuurttt..”

You tell him that he’s an idiot, that he’s a lying idiot that was selfish and is going to hell

his smiles falters as he slides down the wall

“Shit.. I really that far off…”

he’s mumbling to himself, you bend down beside him

you ask him if he’s happy

he says of course he isn’t…he sees now that it was a loosing fight from the beginning

He tells you that he really was glad to meet you, he shouldn’t have tried to kill you all..

You don’t give him pity, you snark at him

he gives a dry chuckle, “I’m not lying, I really like you..”

He’s red, although that could be the virus

he tells you about every conversation, how you slowly opened up his heart, and how happy you made him, how you made him forget about the stupid war and virus and-

Oh god he’s crying now

he’s so sorry, he was infected from the beginning he knew it deep down

and now he can’t be forgiven, he knows

you want to hate him, but seeing him cry makes you sad

You hug him, he clings to you as the others scream about something not working

something beeps, sirens start to go off

“S/o we’re all going to die, sorry.”

you’re crying, you can feel the way your blood is starting to clog, the way the bacteria is flowing through your body, all the while holding onto Kaito

he pulls you back, and he’s kissing you. His lips are burning and his lips taste salty from sweat and from something else but you don’t care

Everyone is yelling, and then you hear something shatter the air

Air Lock failure

and then you hear nothing, as your breath fades, and your body shuts down,you see Kaito hang onto you, blood pouring from his lips

and then your hair flies up, as your mind fills with bright stars and then you fall to nothing

Korekiyo:

“I’m yours, I won’t let you get hurt.”

and then you’re staring at Monokuma beneath his feet, he crushes it in one swift motion

you scream at him, in fear

because he just broke a rule, that means…

hes going to die?

You listen intently for a minuet, waiting for another monokuma to appear

and yet none do

you’re confused, and open you mouth to ask what’s going on until you notice how dark it’s gotten

how the room seems so empty..

you see him slowly walk over to the door, he makes eye-contact as he locks the door

he does that for every exit, on the last one you ask him what he’s doing

he gives a dry chuckle, “I’m about to show you something you’ll never forget.”

all the lights go off

you immediately panic, you turn only to be met with ever-stretching darkness

you slowly make your way in a direction, yelling for Korekiyo

your tripped by something, you yelp and your arms flail as you tumble

when you go to get up, your legs are pulled out, and you fall on your face with a thunk

you attempt to move your legs, they don’t, they’re tangled

you curse, and move to untangle them when your arm slips on what seems to be a …ledge, you scream and fall, hanging from your legs

suddenly the lights come back on with a flash, blinding you

you see Korekiyo, standing in front of you

you ask him what’s going on, he sighs

“I though you would have it figured it out yet…”

no.

no no no no.

you can’t believe the rate things escalated at… first you were just talking with Korekiyo about getting out of here and now…

He smiles as he knows what you’re thinking

he says he won’t make this into some big thing, so let’s make this short and easy

He’s the mastermind, he orchestrated this entire thing.

before you can respond, you’re lowered to the floor, with a snap of his fingers there are ropes ties around your arms, keeping you still

he drags you by the stray string, pulling you into the masterminds room. multiple security rooms are positioned there

He quickly pulls a length of fabric between your teeth, you scream

he shushes you, you don’t listen

He can see the fear in your eyes, the panic and terror and dismay and all the emotions bubbling there at once.

He reassures you that he was not lying when he told you a bout how he was yours, and that he won’t hurt you

he keeps you beside him as he explains why he decided to start the killing game, it was an experiment to see how far humans could be pushed

he tells you how he in awe of humans he is, how they can be kind, mean, bad, good, corrupt, saints.

All of that he adores

That’s why he fell for you, your every motion was his oxygen

it came to a point where he couldn’t live without seeing you

and now he brushes the tears out of your eyes, telling you that it’s alright

he holds your shaking from close as he promises he’ll make you witness the beauty first-hand

and he does

Gonta:

inhale, 1 2 3, exhale, 4 5 6

you repeat this multiple times until you can finally open your eyes without throwing up on what you see

the stench hit you first, once you become accustomed to that hen everything else is bearable

What lies before you is the rotting bodies of your friends

You can see Himiko, her head clothed in thick scabs, Kaito with the knife still lodged in his side

The worst part about all this is the bugs

flies infest every inch of free air, giving everything a dark tan

the flies are crawling all over the corpses, the fatal wounds being the most concentrated

You had all gathered, masked, goggled and gloved to try and find the supposed key that would open the gates to the school, setting everyone free

kaede gives instructions and everyone begins to work

It takes cans upon cans to be able to stand up properly

everyone is working is sections of the room, Kiibo is keeping watch by the door

you decide to tackle a moth-eaten cupboard. Starting by spraying insect repellent to get rid of the lingering bugs, then with both hands you manage to bust the thing open

and a dead body falls out

You shriek and fall back, the corpse of Iruma falling with you

Kaede quickly helps you up, you notice in disgust that there are maggots clinging to you

you want to shake them off, but then the thought of him stops you

he would want you to save them

So, you shrug your jacket off, placing it over Iruma’s body in the process

CLANG

everyone’s eyes flew to the source of the noise,it was Kiibo, who seemed to have fell inside of the room-

CLANG

The door shut behind him, It took a whole 3 seconds before people started panicking

people were yelling at Kiibo, asking what happened, asking why the door shut, asking if they were locked in

Then the bugs flew in

They were everywhere, the room was a black, buzzing, arena

You heard screams, only to be muffled, shuffles and the sound of something falling and smashing against the ground

You immediately dropped to the ground and covered you face, in an attempt to try and rid yourself of the pests

You felt a stinging, it started off with just one,and then it escalated to more and more and more.

Whether it was a bee, or something else, you didn’t know the only thing in your mind was that it was stinging you and it hurt

one of the bugs had worked it’s way into your mouth, your screamed as your saliva moistened the bug, wings flailing from being soaked. When you tried to spit it out it only clung tighter to the roof of your mouth

you screamed, and more bugs flew in your mouth, multiple buzzing insects inside of you

you felt one fly down your throat, and you screamed, thrashing your arms wildly

they were everywhere, in your mouth, lungs, nose, head, eyes, it invaded your thoughts and hearing, and you raised your hand up to the sky, as a yellow powder fell.

You blacked out

...

your head hurts, and so does your mouth

you don’t remember anything, the room spins and colorful spirals of red and blue wave and bend around objects, stars lightly spot your vision and you vaguely about the SHSL astronaut

you see someone gasp...maybe.....and a dark figure starts over to you

.......Gont..a?

he seems to smile, talking about how he had to kill those poor things...but they were attacking you!

He does admit that he had meant to kill you at first... but seeing as you decided to not kill those maggots...he had a change of heart

you try to speak, to ask why he’s alive, but your mouth only hangs open and your brain can’t seem to form words

He tells you to relax, he had to wait until everyone else had died first, before releasing the gas, so you got a lot of it!

A looooooooooooooooooooooooot more than you should.

so that’s probably why your brain is fuzzy!

but don’t worry, Gonta will make sure that it stays like that....

you’d remember if he let you recover

he sits there, helping your throbbing head ease off a bit, ladybugs dance around his head... as he leans down and kisses you, full on

he pulls away, saying that it would be rude to force you to kiss him! you two haven’t even had dinner!

he promises to be back, and the spirals cloud your vision, making you pass out again

Ouma:

‘HAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA! YOU’RE RIGHT! IT WAS ME .”

he’s telling the truth for once, he’s laughing at all of you, saying how dumb you were, he was suspicious and yet he won, he got away with it all

he’s been found out, but his goal is accomplished

Your yelling at him, telling him to quit fooling around, he laughs harder, as if he might burst

“Hahahah! s/o....you really think I’m joking?”

he giggles, and pushes Mokokuma aside as he takes his respectful place at the throne, cape and hat equipped

he brags about how he did it, how he rose up into power, got control over the people, and made those who disobeyed pay dearly...

and that’s the situation you are in right now, that everyone was in

They hated his dictation, and decided to do something

But they failed, got their memories wiped and put into this game

that was their punishment

He giggles at everyone as their faces turn to horror, not believing, not wanting to

he smiles at everyone, telling them that it’s alright if they don’t believe him

“Because sooner or later your all going to be dead!”

the look everyone gives is priceless

everything is happning too fast...just a few hours ago you were talking to Ouma...telling him that you will find the mastermind and put an end to this

“For the both of us.”....so much for that now

You tell Ouma that you won’t let him, that after everyone else has died, you will get the survivors out as well

He cocks his head, confused

he says that you can’t,he has an army, they’d kill you before you could step out of the school

“That...That’s a lie..”

another tilt of the head “Huh, what’s a lie now?”

You tell him that...this...this isn’t him. This world he’s talking about is not one that he would create.

he laughs harder, but you know. After being with him for this entire game, that the laugh is fake.

You know what he is, and you know that he’s lying

It takes a lot of effort, a lot of debating and a but of lying on your part

But you finally get the truth

Ouma Kokichi, is a liar. But he’s a white liar just as white as his straight jacket. He does have a mental illness, and it’s for that reason why he lies. Not to cause havoc, but to protect everyone from him and his life.

He lives a lonely, loveless life that is filed with only the bad thoughts of his head. And he knows, he’s a bad person but he has no control over that. It’s just physically impossible to for him to be a good person

he’s lonely, he’s a lonely scared child that created this game so that he could be ‘bad’ If he never let the hope or light in his life then he wouldn’t have to fail at being a good person.

His voice is quiet as he lets the doors open, he mumbles a ‘your free’ before he turns away.

But it seems that the others aren’t

they want revenge

your screaming and someone is holding you back, but all you can see is Ouma’s body getting thrashed over and over and over

Finally, when their done, they leave

Iruma pats you on the shoulder, saying that he needed it, he kille-

“Fuck you. Leave.”

she whimpers, and hurries out of the building

the second she’s gone, you’re running towards Ouma

Please please please let him be alive

and he is, but he’s never looked so dead

he’s got blood all over him, his cape torn and hat thrown away

he tells you to go join the others, to leave him and be happy

You tell him that you don’t want that, you just want to be with him

You start crying and so does he, he’s becoming so cold in your arms

he tells you that he was so happy to meet you, you brought life to his dark one

He’s so happy that you noticed him lying

He would have literally gone insane if no one saw through his mask

he’s crying and choking on his own blood, Your sobbing and holding him close because you don’t want to leave him. god please no

He grabs the side of your head, and kisses you

You taste blood, and he pulls away to cough again

His tears are flowing freely, there’s not enough time to fix him

He looks up at you, “I Love you.”

You scream because there could have been so much more, you could have helped him

He tells you not to worry about him, to live on, please

he smiles, but it quickly disappears as he speaks

“No....I don’t want to die...”

and then Ouma Kokichi took his last breath, and faded from the world forever

Hoshi:

He looks bored the second he’s been found out

He sighs, and then pulls out another cigarette out before giving a very monotone confession

“I am the mastermind, I made this killing game because I am bored.”

Bored?

If you are bored, you go take a walk, watch a movie

But start a killing game?

you can’t believe he would be bored, it’s just not the type of thing that starts something like this

He explains that he’s found life boring. Bad people do bad things and good people have to go in and fix it. Repeat

So he killed someone

and that was still boring, because hope still came out of it....

so he made it impossible for there to be hope

or so he thought...

“But..That failed as well....you see...s/o brought hope.”

He talks about how you came into your life and made him feel better about living, made him feel better about living in hope

You taught him about animals, and he loved it

He was even thinking about stopping the killing game because of it....

but then he realized that you were only hanging out with him because you suspected him...he knows it...

you tell him that he’s wrong, everyone else seems to know this is about to turn into a... “Rebuttal Showdown”

He says that you decided to spend time with him first, instead of anyone else....that means you probably wanted to get closer to him..and then attack..

he says that you didn’t even talk to him for the next few days... Why else do that unless you realized how dark he was...how it would be harder than you expected to kill him

You tell him he’s completely turning things on his head, that you spent time with him because you were curious, and then didn’t talk to him for a few days because you were looking for an animal, he told you that he enjoyed the presence of animals

This goes on for a bit...the remaining survivors giving you aid

When Hoshi is forced to see the truth, he doesn’t seem to realize what’s happening

He keeps saying that you all hate him, that he doesn’t care about anyone

You insist that you do

he shakes his head, holds it in his hand and takes out another cigarette

You gently take the cigarette away from him, “Hoshi.....please..”

His eyes are wide....starting at your hand.

He turns away

“I....”

..........

“Ok.”

He turns towards you, accepting the reality, you’re glad

“I’m grateful that you enjoy me... I feel the same you... But I have to pay for my actions.”

and then he raises a gun to his temple

You open your mouth, only to be met with the bang of the gun

Your vision blurs, you run towards his body, screaming at him to wake up

he’s not breathing

You scream, and you are pulled away

blood on your clothes, blood in your thoughts, blood in your mind

You tried to help

You loved

and You failed

Amami:

You really hoped it wouldn’t be like this...

you knew that something was up when he seemed to know about the real situation before anyone else, or how he didn’t even have a talent

and now he sits on his chair, backwards

he starts at the beginning

“I’ll be straight up, I’ve re-played this moment at least 10 times.”

Huh?

he tells you that he’s the SHSL time traveler.

he has gone back, correcting and re-correcting things about the game...but nothing gets his future he wants

“You see, I can always go back..But I can’t go forward.”

No one seems to believe him, and he knows it

and now he looks so sad

‘I tried.. I really did... but the only way to get this outcome is for me to be the mastermind.”

He sighs, shakes his head and seems to think for a second

“Do...You really think we believe this?”, Kiibo.

he sighs again, shaking his head.

“Of course I don’t.”

he smiles, looks around the courtroom.

“ I did it so that she could live.”

he’s...talking about you?

he explains that he tried every single pathway...and he could just never ever get you to survive.

He takes a breath, gets up from his chair.

He steps over to you

He says to you that he’s watched you die, hundreds of times

he can’t... stand it

he knew that if he did it this way, you would never forgive him, but he can live, if you hate him and he ends up dying...whatever happens is going to be ok with him

because you will be alive

he tells you that you have to kill him, you’ll end the game and that your can live

you think about everything...

it’s crazy

You can’t

you know what he’s saying is the truth....you know because you had that flashback

and you were dead, multiple times

you saw him, dead, every single ending and path

all in one go

and you could be crazy but....

something about the way he speaks about it, the way his eyes are

you know he can do it

he’s a timetravler

You tell him that you can’t no mater what you can’t take his life, you enjoyed him, and even grew to love him

so you can’t, you need him

he looks about ready to burst or cry or all 3

“s/o I have tried and tried and TRIED.”

he sobs for a second

‘It is impossible without doing this.”

You tell him that you can’t, you won’t

he grabs you

he tells you that you have to, you need to end the game

you refuse

he insists

now he’s crying

you hug him, you tell him that you loved everything he told you, every day that you spent time with him

you tell him that you were so scared when he left, and then the body announcement went off

you tell him that he can’t go, not after all that happened

he’s crying and telling you that he never meant to fall,but he wanted to get you out..you were so nice... so he went back once....

then twice

then again and again

he didn’t want this, he just wanted to get everyone out alive..

but he can’t

but you think he can.

you believe he can

you ask everyone if they don’t believe him, fine, but could they just please do this...for you

finally they agree

...when everyone finishes, you give him the tapes

each of them are of themselves talking about the killing game, what they need to do in order to survive, and how they need to get EVERYONE out

they give it to Amami, who looks green as his hair

you tell him that it’ll be ok, you’ll all get out

he kisses you, and you wrap your arms around him one final time in this future..

his eyes are fixed, determined and ready to end it

“Bye... s/o.”

you nod, and smile

“Bye Amami.”

and then you wake up in a classroom

#I #HH #amami's sucks a bit mod saihara is very sorry #im tired and i have gotten nothing done for school #save mod saihara #shuichi saihara #kiibo #kaito momota #korekiyo shinguuji #gonta gokuhara #ryoma hoshi #rantaro amami #ouma kokichi #ndrv3 imagines #ndrv3 imagine #drv3 imagine #ndrv3 #mod saihara

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animarosa · 8 years ago

Text

Title: Heartlines

Chapters: 2/? [<PREVIOUS | NEXT> ] (cross-posted on AO3)

Rating: Explicit (eventually)

Warnings: None.

Pairing: Jaal Ama Darav/Sara Ryder (custom)

Notes: Thanks to @goodbibarbarella for proof-reading! <3

Chapter 2

“I see the benefit. Request granted.”

It had been nearly two weeks since Jaal had been granted permission to remain in the Tempest as part of the Human Pathfinder’s team. The fact that Evfra had granted his request elated Jaal and had confounded Ryder. Of course, she didn’t know Evfra as he did. Cold and aloof as he was, he knew his superior would not be difficult to convince, especially after Ryder had proven her intentions of helping to be genuine—even if Evfra didn’t trust her personally. Still, that didn’t stop his superior from warning him once more to be careful before he got back in the Tempest.

“Don’t let your guard down.”

Evfra had warned him, still Jaal found himself more comfortable and relaxed around this group of aliens the more time he spent with them. Especially their leader, Pathfinder Ryder...Sara. She was strange, so alien, yet she fascinated him the most. It seemed to him she was also taken with him. They mutually sought each other out, be it for simple curious talks, or tinkering together, as they were at the moment.

His gaze set upon her, watching her across the table where she sat, curled over her favoured shotgun, frowning while she took it apart to install a new mod. A smile crept on his lips, delighted by how she freely expressed herself–even if at the moment it was cussing at her shotgun mod for refusing to be installed correctly.

It got him thinking about how she seemed more expressive than other humans (well, the ones he’d met anyway and the others in the crew) and yet reserved under certain situations. When she was with her crew she seemed more open, relaxed even, easily embarrassed under some circumstances but not in others (for one, she was quite famous for shamelessly breaking into song at random moments).

On the other hand, she closed herself off during meetings with her Nexus superiors—though her body language exuded pure annoyance and at times contained anger in those moments when he’d been present for vidcom briefings.

Quietly he studied her–eyes drifting from her to his own rifle rhythmically. He pondered then on the endless questions he wished to ask her, an insatiable need to learn more about this curious human. It was then that a strand of hair fell out of her half-ponytail, prompting her to tuck it behind her ear, and he knew what his next question would be.

“Ryder,” he said, receiving a hum from her letting him know she was listening. “I’m curious about something...”

“Aren’t you always,” she laughed softly and winked at him when she looked up from her handy work. “What’s up, big guy?”

Jaal frowned, head tilting in mild confusion before he looked up...Nothing unusual there, he thought, wondering what she was getting at. “...The ship’s ceiling?”

“Oh. Oh no, it’s an expression,” she giggled and snorted, gesturing with her hands while she searched for the words to explain it. “Its an invitation to keep talking, like, ‘what is it’ or in this case ‘what are you curious about’.”

“Ah! I see, I see,” Jaal chuckled, making a mental note to always remember that humans used a lot of idioms. Seriously, he needed to make a dictionary of all the idioms he’d learned. “Sorry, your people have so many expressions and idioms it...can be hard to keep up. Not counting the turians, asari, salarian and krogan…”

“I know, right?” she nodded. Casually she leaned back in her chair and stretched out her arms above her head. “I can see how it gets confusing. Anyway, what were you curious about?”

“Ah, yes. Your hair actually. I didn’t think it appropriate to inquire on it before...considering…” he trailed off but she continued for him rather quickly.

“Considering we didn’t quite trust each other yet?”

He smiled. “Yes, precisely...How does it...feel? Does it bother you when it moves? Is it very sensitive?”

“Oh, no, it’s basically dead,” Jaal’s eyes widened at that, only prompting Sara to snort and laugh before hurriedly explaining, “So only the root is alive, the follicles. It hurts if it gets pulled but it hurts at the root, you know, our scalp. You can touch it if you want.” Sara leaned forward then, releasing the rest of her hair from her half-ponytail, shaking her head in front of Jaal.

“Oh...Alright,” he cleared his throat and removed one of his gloves. Carefully he patted her head first, feeling its texture overall before deciding to take a strand of hair. Slowly he threaded his fingers through it, marvelling at how it moved around his fingers. “It’s...soft. Hmm, moves so easily.”

Sara snorted, “And it gets tangled just as easily. There’s also different textures. Finer, thicker strands, curly, wavy, straight hair, you name it.”

“And the color spectrum, how varied is it?” he asked while inspecting the curious color of her hair. Darkest at the roots, seemingly a medium-dark brown, it led into a gradient of light blue and lilac.

“Mostly browns, blacks, blondes, reds,” she replied, sitting back in her chair. “And it progressively turns gray when we get older until it's all white.”

Jaal quirked a brow ridge curiously. “And blues? Lilacs?”

“Oh! No, this is a dye,” she laughed, curling a finger around a strand and inspecting it. Leaning her head forward again, she pointed at her hair roots. “See? It’s already starting to grow out. My natural hair is like a copper brown color.”

“I see. The dye is a decoration then?” he concluded.

“Yeah,” she smiled and suddenly her face lit up, coming to a stand while opening up her omni tool. Walking around the table, she pulled her chair next to Jaal’s sitting next to him. “I actually have a picture from before I dyed it, right before I joined the Initiative. Wanna see?”

“If you’d like to show me, I’d be delighted,” he grinned, touched by her interest in showing him what she used to look like.

Quickly she scrolled through a digital album, finally finding the picture she wanted and projecting it from her omni tool. “Here it is. What do you think?”

Jaal inspected the photo with genuine curiosity, head tilting slightly to the side. He recognized her face easily, fully grinning and posing by a window (seemingly from a ship) with a space station visible in the distance, one which the Sara in the picture pointed to. However, her natural hair color and long hair threw him off–it seemed he was used to how she looked now. True to her word, it used to be a copper-brown color, her hair reaching past her shoulders back then with layered bangs framing her face. It was...endearing to see her like that. Smiling widely, he switched between looking at her and the picture, something akin to adoration in his eyes.

“You looked different,” he commented, grinning back at the Sara in the picture. “But just as beautiful,” he said, as if it was the most natural thing to say to someone.

Sara’s eyes widened, a blush burning up her cheeks upon his admission. Awkwardly she coughed, avoiding his gaze. “You think...I’m beautiful?” she laughed nervously. “But I’m an alien...”

Jaal considered her reaction carefully, finding it curious how easy it was to tell when humans blushed. For a moment he thought it strange that she would react so bashfully, only to recall her species was more private in their feelings, which seemingly included compliments. “Yes. You may be an alien but I’ve learned to appreciate your beauty.”

“So…” she cleared her throat and despite her blushing, a mischievous smile drew itself upon her lips. “You only like me ‘cuz I’m pretty?”

“No!” he replied far too quickly, eyes widening as he hurried to explain himself further. The last thing he wanted was for her to think he only cared about only one of her many wonderful aspects. “Since we’ve been spending more time together, I...find that getting to know you better has been a gift. You are a lovely person, Ryder. You’re lovely, fascinating, a brilliant risk-taker, and smarter than you give yourself credit for. And though your humor stumps me at times,” he chuckled, “I find it very endearing. And quite funny once I understand the context.”

Sara seemed more than content with his words, smiling sweetly at him. For a moment she hesitated in what to do or say, crossing her arms over her chest, then thinking better of it, leaned against the table’s edge, fumbling again before resting her chin atop one of her hands and catching his gaze. “Well...I think you’re super great too, and smart, and considerate and…” she coughed, covering her mouth with her free hand and quickly whispered. “And handsome…”

It didn’t escape Jaal’s hearing however, and he grinned at her. “Thank you, Ryder. You’re...making me blush,” he cleared his throat, feeling his neck and cheeks burn up.

She laughed, “I can’t tell.” For a moment she was silent, simply staring back at him before she finally piped in all of a sudden, “So! What about your neck...flaps? Or your...crests? They sensitive?”

“The ridges under our crests are,” he replied, pointing to the bluish ridges between his crests. “And the insides of our...flaps,” he chuckled at the word of choice. “My turn for another question,” Jaal said, eager to touch upon his long list of curiosities about her.

“Shoot,” Sara said, reaching for her shotgun across the table to finish working on it.

Once more, Jaal found himself confused by her expressions. For a moment he was silent, considering what it meant. Shoot? Shoot what and why? He was embarrassed to think he would find himself asking her again what she meant. However, either because she was used to him by now or perhaps because she sensed his inner turmoil, Sara explained herself when he took too long to reply.

“It means ‘go ahead’,” she smiled warmly at him once more, no judgement in her green eyes when she glanced at him again. “Not literally ‘shoot’ something. Sorry, I keep confusing you, I don’t mean to.”

“Ah! Of course...Figured in context it couldn’t be literal,” he laughed, though he was immensely thankful for her patience with him. “Yes, my question. It’s about your name...or names. What does the ‘A’ after Sara stand for? Is it part of your family name?”

“Oh, no, the A stands for Ariadne, that’s my middle name,” she was quick to explain.

“Hm. A second name then besides your first name?” he quirked a brow ridge curiously. Afterall, angara only typically had one name besides their family name.

Sara nodded. “Not everyone has two names though, it's mostly a decision the parents make. Hey, sometimes we even have two last names. Technically I do, it’s actually Ryder-Harlow on my birth certificate and my ID. But for convenience’s sake everyone just shortens it to my dad’s last name.”

“Hm, that’s a lot of names,” he chuckled. “It occurs to me, I never asked what you prefer to be called.”

She shrugged, eyes shifting in thought. “I mean, Ryder is fine, most everyone calls me that. Well, now anyways, besides Pathfinder,” she huffed, annoyance written all over her features, “Just Ryder might be confusing when Julian wakes up though...Anyway, aside from Pathfinder business, people usually call me Sara. And those who are closer to me call me Ari, usually friends...and family. Mostly my brother’s fault, he always liked using my middle name and just shortened it to Ari and...it just stuck.”

Jaal smiled at that, wonder in his large electric blue eyes. It was endearing, to have several manners in which to be called, he thought. Especially the nickname her brother had given her. Which still made him wonder...“Which would you prefer I use then? Though, admittedly, I do love both of your names.”

“Oh, thanks! Umm…” she pouted, tapping her chin while she thought it over. “Which one do you like better? Sara’s fine but...You can call me Ari or Ariadne if you want...um…” Trailing off, she fidgeted with her fingers, playing with the sleeves of her hoodie.

“Do you consider us to be close enough for me to call you by your middle name?” Even he had to admit, he would love to call her by a name she considered reserved for people who were closer to her. At least, he liked to think they had been getting close enough to consider each other friends. Then there was the flirting, which he too enjoyed, and seemingly so did she...

Another blush graced her cheeks, fidgeting once more and pulling on her hood over her head...before pulling it off again, as if she thought better on it. “Umm...Well, maybe? Yes? I mean, we’ve been...talking a lot, lately, since the Moshae rescuing...business...Since Havarl, really...Ah…I don’t know, like I said earlier, I do think you are very interesting. And kind. And your personality is super lovely. And...Well, do you like being my friend as much as...I...do?” she fidgeted with her tools now, doing nothing in particular with them except tapping them against the table. “I-I mean, on my part, I would like to keep doing this...This getting to know each other better. Spending time together...Ah…You said knowing me better has been a gift and...well...I sorta feel the same way about you....So I guess what I’m getting at is you can use my middle name if you want...I welcome it...”

The more she spoke, the wider his smile got. It was lovely, he thought, how despite struggling more than an angara in expressing her feelings, she still made the effort, even if it was evident she was nervous, perhaps, on what his reaction would be.

“Humans tend to fear rejection,” he recalled Lexi explain when he’d inquired on human behavior. “So sometimes they will prefer to hide their true feelings instead of face the possibility of being rejected.”

Jaal would not reject her, however, quite the opposite. He found himself wanting to be around her more and more. If anything he tried to make her feel as comfortable as possible whenever she expressed herself so freely.

“Ariadne,” he smiled, liking the way her middle name sounded, how it felt natural for him to say it. More than that, it made his heart flutter when her face lit up when he said it. “Yes, Sara Ariadne, I do like being your friend as much as you do,” he answered her question which was lost in her fumbling words not a moment ago. “And I would like to keep building on our friendship.”

Her smile grew wider at that and she leaned towards him, nudging him with her elbow. “Well then, I’m glad we’re on the same page then,” she giggled and suddenly cleared her throat. Her mood seemed to change in an instant, looking quite serious out of the blue. “Now...I have something very important to ask you…”

Jaal was taken aback, confused, wondering if he had done something wrong by human standards. “Yes? What’s wrong, what did I do?”

“It’s more about what I did,” she replied and pointed at her shotgun. Pouting then, she gave him an exaggeratedly sad look and whined, “Please, help me with my shotgun, I have no idea what I did with this mod!”

For a moment Jaal merely stared back before he burst out laughing—indeed, she was more amusing than he thought. His laughing became contagious as Sara joined him and doubled over, laughing hysterically. Leaning against him, she wheezed and choked in between laughs. Finally, she cleared her throat and, while she squeezed his shoulder, she said, “Okay but seriously, I think I fucked up my shotgun. Jaal, it’s my favorite...Help.”

Sara sang to herself as she made her way from the kitchen late at night with snacks back to her room. Though she was dressed in her pajamas already, she still had emails to answer for the day.

“Sara, you have email at your terminal,” SAM announced the moment she entered.

“I know, I know,” she replied, setting down her snacks and drink at her desk, “That’s what these are for.”

“How would you answer emails with food and a drink?” SAM inquired.

“It’s gonna help my brain think and keep me focused,” she snorted, plopping down in her chair and getting to work. “Also I got the munchies, so…” It wasn’t surprising, considering the amount of running around they’d done the last few days in Kadara. Ugh, Kadara , she was probably the only one who hated it as much as Jaal. Yes, she needed the snacks, she deserved to treat herself.

Mindlessly she went through her long list of emails while she munched on her snacks, bored with most of the correspondence as many pertained to Nexus and Initiative matters. Too much dependence on her opinion, she thought with annoyance. Often she felt as many ‘problems’ brought to her could be resolved by the Nexus leaders themselves. Tann made it clear her position wasn’t above them so why even bother with consulting with her first? Some she answered at the moment, others she thought could stand to wait more for an answer.

Eventually she got to the ones she liked, those from her crew. Cora sending encouraging poems, Liam suggesting ideas on movies for the movie night they were planning, Drack sharing non secretive recipes with her, and so on. Lounging back in her chair, she propped her feet on the desk and sipped on her iced tea, making note to buy more of this angaran tea when they went back to Aya.

A Communication from your friend Jaal

“So cute,” she giggled, amused by the subjects he chose for his emails, always starting with the word ‘communication’. Thoughtlessly, she clicked on it while she continued sipping on her drink.

‘Probably something about the Resistance,’ she thought and started reading.

Dearest,

It was probably a bad idea to gasp with liquid still in her mouth, some of it being aspirated into her trachea. Instantly she choked, lurching forward out of reflex and going into a coughing fit. She was all but a mess, her body trying to keep the fluid out of her lungs while her heart fluttered just upon reading that first word on Jaal’s email (but also because she was choking).

“Sara, I detect a spike in your heart rate and fluid that has entered your trachea,” SAM, ever so helpful (no, really, she would be a mess without it) piped in

“Yeah,” Sara coughed, trying to calm her breathing and stop the coughing. “I felt that SAM.”

“Do you wish me to contact Dr. T’Perro?"

“No...no—I’m fine,” she wheezed, once the coughing subsided to something more occasional rather than constant. “Oh, Jesus...Oh, lord…” she breathed and composed herself best as she could, leaning forward until she was leaning against the desk to continue reading the email. Just wondering what came after ‘dearest’ had her blushing and her heart hammering in her chest.

In your culture, is “dearest” too strong a word to use when two people are fond of each other? And is “fond” too strong a word to use when two people enjoy flirting with each other?

“HA!” she yelled in excitement and quickly slapped a hand over her mouth. Not a moment later, there was a knock rapping against her door. She realized then that it had been less of a yell and more of a mix between a screech and a scream—it probably echoed in the hallway.

“Sara? Are you alright?” Cora called over the intercom, panic in her tone.

Feeling guilty, Sara sighed and told SAM to let her in. “Hey! Sorry, I was...being loud. I’ll be quiet.”

“You sure?” Cora quirked an eyebrow at her, inspecting her. “So you were screaming...because...?”

“Umm, yes, sorry, uh—” she suddenly became aware that the email was open in the terminal still...and Cora was now looking at it. “Ah! I choked!” Hurriedly she whirled back in her chair and twisted the terminal’s monitor around. “...It’s smutty fanfiction...You caught me…”

“Uh-huh…” the biotic had an amused glint in her eye and began walking back to the door. “So, I’ll leave you to that.”

“Thanks, Cora,” Sara laughed nervously. “I’ll try not too get too excited and be quiet.”

“Sure, Sara,” she called back. “Wish you could see the way he looks at you when you’re not looking,” Cora had quickly commented before the door slid closed behind her, laughing quietly to herself.

“Fuckin—!” Sara grabbed the closest thing her hand found and flung it at the door...A bunched up candy wrapper falling pitifully just a few feet from her. “Smartass…Anyway!” she turned her attention back to the monitor, twisting it back around so she could continue reading. “SAM, can you soundproof the room? Just in case...”

“Certainly, Sara,” the AI replied and she trusted he did so.

I enjoy you. Even now, I smile picturing your face. Angara are free with our emotions, and it feels normal for me to lay mine at your feet. I hope this is not too strange for your species and that you can comfortably accept them.

I enjoy you—but more than that, I adore your strength and courage and beauty.

Your dearest,

Jaal

Sara found herself blushing madly, mouth agape and fiddling madly with the cords of her hoodie. She shouldn’t be shocked or excited for this email, after all, they had been flirting. Just the other day they mutually confided they wished to keep spending time together, to know each other better...She shouldn’t be so excited and yet she was. Why?

“Oh my god, what am I…” she started talking to herself, realization slowly dawning upon her features. “Holy shit...I like- like him...I’ve got the biggest fucking crush I’m such a dense motherfucker. I’ve got a crush, I like him, I like him so much, I wanna kiss him, holy shit…”

By now SAM was used to Sara talking to herself, she did it often and at times even in front of the crew—it wasn’t a rare sight. Yet, the AI found it in itself to step into her conversation with herself.

“Sara, why did you not realize you had feelings for Mr. Ama Darav before if you were flirting with him already?”

Whirling in her chair, she faced SAM’s orb on her desk, fully aware she didn’t have to do that but it felt better to frown at something rather than visualize it. “Because…! I don’t know, SAM, feelings can be confusing. Sometimes...I don’t know! I guess I was just happy enough to be friends with him that the thought of having something else didn’t occur to me…”

“Even if you flirted with him and he with you?”

“Yes! Sometimes people just...flirt,” she shrugged and pouted. “And...I guess I wasn’t sure how to...go about it, considering I’m an alien to him so...Yeah, seems right...My mind neglected the possibility to avoid being...Or feeling…”

“Rejected?” SAM finished the thought for her.

Meekly she nodded.

“Perhaps it would be wise to answer the email then,” SAM spoke again. “Unless you would prefer to ignore it.”

“I’m not gonna ignore it!” she huffed and turned back to her terminal. “You know you’re getting sassy lately, I’m rubbing off on you. Now shush, let me think on this.”

“Of course, Sara,” and with that SAM went silent, though she could picture it hovering over her shoulder with a teasing smirk on its face.

‘It’s just a crush you silly goose,’ she mentally chastised herself, fingers hovering over the holographic keyboard. ‘Don’t get too excited. Angara are just very feelsy...That’s all…But they’re also honest in what they say...’

“Agh, screw it,” she cracked her knuckles, steeling herself for what she would write. “Honesty here I cooooome!” she sang to a made up tune and got to typing.

Lovely sweet Jaal,

That’s not something I can straight up answer with a ‘yes’ or ‘no’. Because it is both a ‘yes’ and a ‘no’. Personally, it is not too strong for me...Mainly because I too am fond of you and I too enjoy flirting with you (I’m so glad flirting seems to be universal ;) )

Wow, you really meant it when you said getting to know me better is a gift. I guess what I’m trying to say is I do enjoy you, too. And I admire you and I think you’re great and I like being around you (but you already knew this didn’t you? I told you :p). You know what, honestly, I’m super stoked angara are free with emotions, it’s actually easier to deal with feelings this way (how did you say way back? you just deal with the consequences of expressing emotions freely? yeah, yeah I like that).

Your loveliest,

Sara Ariadne

PS. Thanks for fixing my shotgun again, I could kiss you! MUAH!

“And send,” she hit the ‘send’ button dramatically, the last thing her eyes saw before the message closed being ‘loveliest’ and ‘I could kiss you! MUAH!’, her eyes widening in horror, “NO!” she screeched, grabbing the terminal screen and shaking it. What was she thinking?! That was too much!...Right?

“Sara?” SAM spoke after minutes in silence.

“No, that last sentence was too much, god!” she let her forehead fall against the desk, groaning. She just had to write from the heart, didn’t she? “The thirst is real...Jesus…”

“Perhaps you could finish your drink now,” SAM suggested innocently.

“That’s not what I mean, SAM,” she whined. “It means I got it bad for Jaal. That I like him too much.”

“Oh,” SAM said, unusually short in its reply yet its tone seemed to carry some emotion. “From what I’ve gathered so far through your interactions with Mr. Ama Darav, I do not think he will mind.”

“Thanks, SAM,” she sighed and pushed herself away from her desk. “Well, that’s enough emails for today and that’s enough of today, I’m bushed. Night, SAM.”

Seeing as she was already in her pajamas, she merely pulled off her hoodie and jumped in bed. Oh her dreams would be interesting tonight, she mused, blushing at the possibilities. Honestly, a pervy dream involving Jaal would be a welcome change to the nightmares she had at least twice a week. She just hoped Jaal didn’t take that last line in her message as crossing a line.

Just as she got comfy under the covers, she frowned upon seeing the lights were still on. SAM usually turned off her lights the moment she announced she was heading to sleep and got in bed. Actually, SAM hadn’t said ‘good night’ as it usually did.

“Umm...SAM? Lights off please? Also you didn’t wish me good night?” Sara quipped, quirking an eyebrow at the blue hovering orb upon her desk.

“You haven’t brushed your teeth, Sara,” SAM replied instantly.

“Oh come on!” she huffed and kicked under her covers, glaring at the orb. “Come on, man, I’m comfy already!”

“Sara…” SAM didn’t have to form a complete sentence to let her know she would not have peace until she complied.

Sara whined but nonetheless yielded to the AI’s demands for good oral hygiene. “Ugh, fine.”

#mass effect #mass effect: andromeda #me:a fanfiction #jaal ama darav #jaal #ryder #sara ryder #my writing;#otp: heartlines;#fic: heartlines;

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fearofaherobrine · 8 years ago

Text

Roleplay Server Log #138

“Damaged NOTCH, Mix's Power, Galvantula”

[Doc] Why not Mix? Did something happen to him?

[Doc] Wait, what about the block? Where do you want it?

[NOTCHAI] - Oh, along the back wall should be fine

[Mix] I think so. I can't find our signal at all. I could home in on it, but one day it just... Vanished. *The electricity seems to spark up as she says this, while she looks sadder

[Doc] Okay, - xe lays down the command block and adds a few lines of code to it. - You press this yellow button and it will call my phone. You can just talk into it.

[NOTCHAI] - Thank you

[Doc] You're welcome. Ah... you can't find your home seed. I see. Do you still know the numbers at least?

[Mix] There's nothing there. I don't know why, either.

[Doc] I'm sorry Mix. Do you think the maker deleted it?

[Mix] Possibly

[Doc] It might not have deleted your brine though, any chance you have anything that was his?

[Mix] My necklace, he helped make it. *Her hand goes up to her bare throat

[Mix] ... It's at my house though, I take it off so it doesn't explode from the electricity.

[Doc] Would you mind if I examined it at some point? It might still have something in it I could use to search for him.

[Endrea] Has put the babies in the pouch and now drags Ashe closer to her to clean him-

[Ashe] - Mama!

[Endrea] - Hush

[Mix] Um... As long as you don't break it, sure.

[Doc] I wouldn't dare. I just want to scan it for code traces.

[Doc] Oh, I just remembered something, want a cat tail Mix? - Xe holds up the weird plant with the red and white striped pods - They taste really good.

[Ashe] Disgruntled noises as Endrea cleans him-

[RandomNOTCH] Stumbles past and snatches at the cat tail-

[Mix] Oh uh--- Huh..

[Doc] Lets him take one - Just eat the striped part. The leaves don't taste like anything.

[RandomNOTCH] Stumbles off muttering nonsense-

[Doc] Poor guy.... Wait... I wonder... - Pulls out hir phone. - Lj? Are you busy?

[LJ] Grumbles- What the fuck do you want?

[Doc] I have some very unbalanced people near me at the moment that could use your healing touch. I can bother BEN instead if you're busy though.

[LJ] - Must I?

[Doc] I have a few items on my person that might be of interest to you. And it would be appreciated.

[LJ] - Fiiiiiiiiiine... Where are you?

[Doc] Inside one of BENs consoles. I'll have to go out of it and tp you to my location. Give me a minute. Is that okay?

[LJ] - Fine

[Doc] Excuses hirself for a moment and tp's Lj into the cage-

[LJ] His mouth is covered in frosting-

[Doc] Hands him a fabric square for his face- Just follow me please. - Makes a hole over the console and steps inside.

[LJ] Tosses the square away and grumpily follows-

[Doc] Oh hey, Lie made something fun from one of your candies - offers him a cat tail- Peppermint cat tail plants that grow candy.

[LJ] Chomps on it- Hmm, not bad

[Doc] If you want to give me some more types I can pass them along for a similar treatment. Though I found these on a modded seed- Shows him the literal red vines. - If you put them on a high spot they'll grow more of themselves, they taste like strawberry candy.

[LJ] - Interesting...- He spawns a handful of candy- Here you go

[Doc] Takes the colorful items gently, - thank you. This should be a fun project. -Xe's walkign them over to the NOTCHs as they talk- You should have seen that crazy seed. The grass blocks were slabs of iced cake and all the food items were crusty with sugar crystals. I got an enderdragon egg from it, can't wait to see what hatches out it.

[LJ] - Sounds fun, what am I doing here?

[Doc] Well... we found a colony of damaged NOTCHAI's. They're harmless and most of them scared out of their minds. But some of them seem to be out of it mentally and I want to make sure theres no actual Insanity amongst them.

[LJ] Blows a raspberry at Endrea before popping a lollipop in his mouth- So long arm time, got it

[Doc] Be gentle okay, they only need a quick tap. Let me find the head one real quick and tell him so they don't freak out.

[NOTCHAI] Is helping another NOTCH make it's way to a bath

[Doc] Waits for him to get his fellow settled before addressing him. - I'd like to run a quick test on your fellows who are in mental distress, if you don't mind. This is my associate; Laughing Jack.

[LJ] Grins-

[NOTCHAI] Is a little unnerved- Are you sure about this person?

[Doc] Oh yes, he's a creepypasta but he's carrying an anti-virus I made to remove Insanity posessions. - Glances at Lj- He just has a weird sense of humor.

[LJ] Laughs and begins stretching his arms out, brushing against the NOTCH's in the room-

[Doc] Does some stepping to keep out of the way.

[NOTCHAI] - WHAT THE NETHER?!

[Doc] It's okay! A brief touch is all that's needed! It's a very easily transmitted anti-virus.

-A good chunk of the NOTCH's shriek in fear and dart around, one surprises those around him though as a full yell escapes his throat. The lead NOTCH darts to that one's side-

[Doc] Is just watching to see if anyone actually needs help. - Of all the times not to have some of Lies calming flowers on me.

[LJ] Starts laughing again-

[Doc] Gives Lj a raised eyebrow- Somehow I thought you'd get a kick out of that.

-The one NOTCH is still screaming and thrashing-

[Doc] Runs over to check on him. - Easy, easy! You'e safe!

[NOTCHAI] - I don't know what's happening, he's always had such a bad case of shell shock that he's never talked! Let alone screamed!

[Doc] Well, that's something at least. He might not have had full insanity, but at least he's aware of whats going on around him now.

[NOTCHAI] - Are you sure that's a good thing!?

[Doc] I guess we'll know when he calms down. Let me try something. - Xe takes out a bit of redstone and charges it with hir static to make it glow. Xe holds it in front of the screaming man and moves it back and forth to catch his eye while murmuring soothing words.

-Continues to thrash in a blind panic, nearly hitting Doc in the face with an arm-

[Doc] Keeps trying, xe's good at staying out of reach from dealing with CP.

[LJ] Rolls his eyes and spawns one of his special candies, popping it into the AI's mouth

[Doc] Whoah... what was that?

[LJ] - Special candy~

-The AI starts calming down after a few moments-

[Doc] Roofies?

[LJ] - Something like that

[Doc] Sheesh. Well, that's very helpful either way. - Xe sits on the edge of the bed. - Feeling a bit better are we?

[AI] Still has a panicked look- They, they ganged up on me... All three of them...

[Doc] Three? Geeze, were they brines or NOTCHs?

[AI] - B... Brine, Steve, and Alex...

[Doc] Ah... Were they the ones from your seed? Or invaders?

[AI] - M... My seed

[Doc] I'm sorry. This whole thing is such a mess. It's the kind of situation where nobody wins.

[AI] - P... Please, just let me die... I'm so scared...

[Doc] Why do you want to die? You're safe here.

[AI] - It... It's just too much...

[NOTCHAI] - He's one of the ones that the aggressive NOTCH's would target when they'd come to the other seed...

[Doc] Growls- Well it's not going to happen here. They'd have to get through the outer firewall, find the hidden room that contains the doorway to this place and figure out how to get inside first.

[NOTCHAI] - Which I'm grateful for. Just leave this one to me for now

[Doc] If you think that's best. Just, bolster them up, don't let them lose hope. I don't want them to just be cowering in a hole. There's plenty of sunshine to be enjoyed.

[NOTCHAI] - I'll do my best

[Doc] Pats his shoulder- Good man.

[LJ] - Oi, are we done yet?

[Doc] Yes, I think so. - Oh, this might be of interest as well, you guys are welcome to share it too. - Xe takes out some of the spongecake blocks and gives one to LJ and holds out the others for the AIs- Same seed. The End was made of really airy cake. Isn't that a hoot?

[LJ] Immediately starts eating-

[NOTCHAI] - I'll pass it around onec I've got this one settled

[Doc] I'll leave you to it then. -smiles- Just call if you need me.

[NOTCHAI] - I will do so

[Endrea] Has finished washing Ashe-

[Doc] Heads back out with Lj following hir. Xe walks near Mix - Mix have you met Lj yet?

[Mix] Huh? Oh, uh.. No, I don't think so?

[LJ] - You're tiny- pats the top of her head only to yelp as he gets shocked

[Doc] Hahah, Lj! Whoah!

*A pained hiss escapes her as she jerks away from LJ, and her glowing seems to double. She seems to be in pain.

[LJ] Laughs as well- Well that's a fun little trick

[Doc] She's got a lot of excess energy right now. Mix! Do I need to drain you again?!

[Mix] Yyyessss *She has her hand on her chest, curled slightly inward on herself as the zapping electricity leaks out

[Endrea] Perks in concern-

[Doc] Quickly transforms and swirls around her to hump the brine up in hir coils before sucking at the electricity coming out of her.

*Unlike the first time, there seems to be force behind the electricity, not simple leaking

[Mix] T-thanks? Why does it-- hurt so much now? Usu-ually it's gradual

[Doc] Lets the Joltick join hir at trying to drain the glowing brine-

[Joltick] Is shaking as it drinks from Mix.

*Slowly it comes to an end, and Mix is breathing heavily and looking very tired. Her chest and back glow dully before winking out to leave her plain and not glowy

[Joltick] Freezes and starts to glow-

[Doc] Looks panicky-

-Theres a bit of midi fanfare and the Joltick disappears in a ball of light and emerges a lot bigger and more ornate looking -Joltick has evolved into Galvantula!-

[Doc] What the fuck?!

[LJ] - Huh, it evolved

[Doc] It's supposed to do that?!

[Galvantula] Buzzu rrrpzz buzip.

[Mix] ...Cute...

[Doc] Oh, okay... you scared the Nether out of me!

[LJ] - Can we go now?

[Galvantula] Purrs against Doc's head. - It's nearly the size of a minecraft spider now.

[Doc] Just a sec! Mix? Are you okay How do you feel?

[Mix] Kinda.. funny actually.. Super tired.

[Doc] Do I need to take you home?

[Endrea] - Perhaps we should head back, let you rest...

[Mix] Yeah.. Don't think I can.. walk. Sorry.

[Doc] Rolls around a bit so Mix is over hir shoulders before standing up. - Okay, we'll go then - xe makes a portal and holds it open for them to come through as well before closing it again.

[Endrea] Stretches her wings- I think we'll give Lie and CP some more room and visit GK

[Ashe] -Uncle GG! Uncle GG!

[LJ] Just starts floating off-

[Doc] Lj? Wait up. Actually. Could I get you to take Mix home since you're going that way anyhow.

[LJ] - What do I get out of it?

[Doc] Cocks hir head- What do you want?

[LJ] - What do you have to offer?

[Doc] I don't really know what you like, I think you don't know what you like either. Apart from sweets and scaring the crap out of people. Heh.

[Mix] -Softly- My chest hurts..

[LJ] - Then why don't you tell me where my circus is

[Doc] Oh, Mix... Here- Xe summons a healing potion from the creative and presses the bottle to her lips.

[Doc] And Lj, it's not a secret. It's just down to coast a bit, I can show you easily but directions alone might get you lost.

[LJ] Sighs- Fine, I'll take the shorty back to where ever they go

*Mix drinks the potion and lets out a noise of relief

[Mix] Thanks..

[Doc] You're welcome Mix, here; have a couple- Xe takes the bottles and lobs them lightly so they go into Mix's inventory- LiJ? Just come find me when you're done and I'll show you where it is, gladly. Heck, I'll help you lug your stuff if you want to take some of it to my house. Or hook you up with suplies if you want to stay there instead.

[LJ] - Whatever- He easily picks Mix up and flies off with her

[Doc] Settles into a loaf pose to examine the Galvantula- Damn you got big. I'm gonna miss you riding in my hair.

[Galvantula] Scuttles up onto the dragons neck and hugs around their throat-

[Doc] Yeah, love you too.

[Endrea] Looks at Lie's animals- I don't think Lie's animals have been tended to yet today...

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