#i noticed the shitty sidewalks everywhere

[clutterbrain]

I love that comic for biking, but I just want to point out one difference between urban cycling and bus riding.

When biking infrastructure is bad, the only people who bike are exceptionally athletic and/or brave. But for people who use bad bus systems, it's not that they're more capable of making the bus work than other people - it's that they have no other options.

When I lived in San Antonio, I realized it would be faster to just spend 40 minutes walking home than it would be to get a 1 hour delayed bus. So I walked, and I never took the bus again after that. It was hot and time-consuming and there weren't always sidewalks, but I could walk in that little dirt path by the road and make it work.

You know who was still left at that bus stop when I gave up? People who can't just decide to walk. If you pay attention, you'll see who's actually waiting at the bus stops: elderly people, people with visible mobility aids, blind people. The actual population that uses America's shittiest public transit is NOT super intense eco-activists or people who just really love the bus and choose to put up with it, it's people who literally have no other option. They cannot drive a car, they can't just walk, they can't even travel by electric scooter or wheelchair because we *don't build or maintain the fucking sidewalks.*

What is left for them but to wait out that 2 hour delay?

People who only take transit may be expecting it but that doesn't mean it doesn't fuck them over. How can you keep a job or make an appointment if it's impossible to predict whether you'll be 2 hours late or not? Disabled people have shit to do too!!!!

Better buses. Every 15 minutes. And fix the fucking sidewalks!!!!

If you are thinking about it on paper, the bus running every half hour doesn't sound so bad, until you're waiting at the stop and you miss a bus or it's delayed. Then you're waiting a very, very long time. To people who never take transit, that's probably fine. Why do you care. To people who only take transit, they're expecting it, it's baked in their lives. But the important part, what really impacts our cities, is what happens to people for whom transit is an option.

The spiral goes like this. You go to take the bus instead of driving, thinking "I'm going to o have a couple drinks" or "I don't want to worry about parking where I'm going." So you take bus. First bus is right on time. But then you transfer from your neighborhood line to the line that takes you where you actually want to go. And your bus is delayed. And it only comes every 30 minutes. And then you're waiting, 40 minutes later, wondering where your bus is, knowing you could have driven there in 20 minutes.

Why would you ever chose to take a bus again? The bus made you waste precious time on your day off just sitting there. So next time you drive. Ridership goes down. When the transit authority asks for more money for more buses and more drivers, people point to the ridership numbers and say "why should we pay for this instead of paying for our schools/police/baseball stadium/parks/police again (let's be real that's who's taking all the money)?" If we want to increase ridership we need to actually design and fund functional transit networks. If we want people to actually ride the bus we need to make it a better option than driving, which means reliable service, which you don't get with a bus every 30 minutes.

Every 15 minutes, everywhere, all of the time.

[harrysthighertat]

Valentine’s Day

summary: you come home from a long, shitty day of work to a Valentine's Day surprise from Harry.

warnings: fluff and implied smut

word count: 2.3k

a/n: I'm a little nervous to post this cause this is the first blurb I've ever written. I really enjoyed writing it tho and I can definitely see myself writing more of them in the future, so I'd love to hear your thoughts and feedback. sorry if it ends a little abruptly, it's way past midnight and my brain was fried by the end of this. but I hope you still enjoy it! :)

—

It's 7.30PM when you finally park your car in front of you and Harry's shared apartment. You let out a sigh while turning the engine off. No matter how much you love your job, the extra work, stress and having to stay at the office late to cover for your coworker's maternity leave, was wearing you out and you felt incredibly guilty towards Harry for coming home so late and going to bed so soon after arriving home from work. The past few months have been a constant cycle of waking up at 5AM, being at the office until at least 7PM, having dinner with Harry while trying very hard to keep your eyes open and hold a conversation with him then going to bed straight after dinner and repeat.

Thus, you were incredibly grateful when Harry offered to not do anything special for Valentine's Day and make up for it when work wasn't so busy. It meant that you wouldn't have to lose any of your much needed sleep on getting him a gift or preparing a surprise for him. And Harry deserved better than getting a half assed gift after how much he's been there for you during this stressful time. Every evening he insists on packing your lunch for the next day, he wakes up at the crack of dawn with you just so he can kiss you goodbye and wish you luck at work and he leaves sweet little handwritten notes everywhere saying how much he loves you and how proud he is of you, just to name a few out of a million things he does for you. You wanted to show him your gratitude with the most special surprise because he deserved nothing less, but unfortunately it had to wait.

Although Harry missed spending quality time with you, especially on a day such as Valentine's Day, he knew that it was only a couple of days until your coworker was back at the office and he would get to spend his evenings loving on you again.

Earlier that day you had texted Harry notifying him that you'd have to stay at the office late again. You offered to grab some takeout on the way home, which had become a habit of yours over the past couple of months because of how bad you felt that Harry had to do the daily household chores and cook for both of you while also having work of his own and barely getting to spend time with you, but he told you not to worry about it.

You grab your stuff from the passenger seat and step out of your car onto the sidewalk. You walk up the couple of steps to your front door, unlock it and push the door open. As you enter the apartment, you're welcomed by the smell of homemade food and your body immediately relaxes. You put your keys in the basket on the side table in the hallway and place your bag underneath it. Then you shrug off your coat, put it on the hanger and change from your boots to a pair of warm, fuzzy slippers.

Once you've checked yourself in the mirror, you walk towards the noises coming from the kitchen. In the doorway to the kitchen you stop yourself and look at the scene in front of you in awe. Not only do you see your boyfriend, who’s putting away the kitchenware that he’s used while wearing a pink and red polka dot apron that his mom gifted him for Christmas last year with a nice, lightish green dress shirt and fitted dark green trousers underneath, but the dinner table is beautifully decorated with bordeaux red table runners, pink lit candles and a bottle of your favorite red wine.

The smell of food is even stronger here and you notice the tray in the oven. Homemade vegan lasagna. Your favorite. In the background Dreams by Fleetwood Mac is softly playing. The soothing music, comforting smell of your favorite homemade meal and the sight of the love of your life standing right in front of you is a heavenly combination and you feel tears welling up in your eyes from how good it feels to be home, especially after the long, shitty day you had at work.

You quickly blink the tears away and walk over to your boyfriend. As Harry hears you coming up from behind, he turns around. As soon as his eyes land on his lovie's face, a smile grows on his own. “Hi baby, I didn’t hear you come home. How was work? I missed you.” He grabs your hands, pulls you closer and softly pecks your lips.  

You return the favor and say “Hi bub, work wasn't too great today." Harry can tell you've had a stressful day and you don't feel like talking about it, so he doesn't press on the topic. "I'm starting to understand my coworker." You say though. "If these were my usual tasks I would also get someone to impregnate me just to have an excuse to get a couple of months off." Harry bursts out laughing and your heart flutters in your chest at the sound of it.

You almost tear up again when you say "It feels good to be home. With you. Sorry I couldn't get home sooner." Harry squeezes your hand to reassure you that it's okay.

Then you gesture to the scene behind you. "What’s all this for though?” Harry turns around to see what you mean as if he hasn't spent half of the day in the kitchen to decorate and cook and make sure everything was perfect for when you got home.

“Well, I couldn’t not treat my girl on Valentine’s Day, so I thought I’d cook you your favorite meal and decorate the table so we can have a romantic candle lit dinner tonight and celebrate Valentine's Day just a bit.”

He then remembers the other surprise he got you that morning. “Oh and I got you something else, wait here…”. He walks out of the kitchen to where he hid his surprise from you, leaving you alone in the kitchen.

A few seconds later Harry returns with a gorgeous bouquet of red, pink and white tulips. He hands them to you as he says “Happy Valentine’s day, baby.” You hesitantly accept the bouquet. When you slowly bring the flowers to your nose and inhale, the flowers smell fresh, and soothing and heavenly and remind you of a warm, sunny day in spring. Then a frown grows on your face.

“What’s wrong? Do they smell bad?” Harry asks concerned.

“No, they smell lovely.” You answer, frown still present on your face.

“Do you not like tulips? Shit, I thought tulips were your favorite. But I should’ve listened to the sweet old man at the flower shop and got you the roses that he recommended for Valentine's Day. I’m really sorry, I can go back tomorrow and get you those.” He says, panic in his voice.

Your features soften a little. “No, they are my favorite and they’re beautiful. Thank you.”

“What’s got you frowning then?”  

You look down as you fumble with the flowers in your hand. “I- I just feel so bad. Everyone's out today celebrating their relationship, showering their partner with love while you barely even get to spend time with me because I leave for work so early and don't come home until the evening hours when I'm too tired to stay up for longer than an hour. I feel like such a bad partner. I didn’t even get you anything today."

"Hey, look at me." Harry says, as he grabs your hand with one of his and places the other on your chin to gently lift it so that you're looking at him. He moves his face a little closer to yours and kisses the place between your brows before moving down to your lips, placing a kiss on both of the corners of your mouth in hopes of removing the frown from your face.

"None of that. Of course I miss you, but I know how much you care about your work and I know that this is not forever. You've been working your ass off and I'm so proud of you. And I don't mind at all that you didn't get me anything today, baby. After all we said we weren’t going to do anything special today. We've got to feed ourselves wether you're busy or not and you know I love cooking, especially when it's for you. So I figured I'd cook you your favorite dinner just to make today a little more special. Plus you didn't think I made all of that lasagna just for you, right? I'm treating myself to a lovely dinner with the best company I could ever wish for too. Although if you did want to have the whole tray to yourself, I wouldn't mind either. Anything to make my baby happy. I just wanna take care of you and show you how proud I am of you for working so hard.” He rubs soothing circles on the back of your hand and kisses tip of your nose, then your left cheek, your right cheek and finally your mouth.

Then he pulls back to look at you again and you notice a smirk appear on Harry's face. "Besides, you didn't think I didn't notice my favorite lingerie set being gone from our underwear drawer this morning, did you?"

You try to suppress a smile. "I don't know what you're talking about."

He's right though. You are wearing a red, lace lingerie set underneath your outfit that you specifically decided to wear today. It's the matching lingerie set that Harry got you on his birthday as he claimed it was more a present for himself. You'd been so tired and stressed it lately that your sex drive was low and it had been a while since you and Harry had been intimate with each other. Therefore you also hadn't been able to show Harry the lingerie set in action yet, but you had secretly been hoping to change that tonight.

When you were getting dressed this morning, Harry had pretended to still be asleep while peeking at you through his eyelashes.

Harry smiles and kisses your lips. Then he leaves a trail of soft little kissen from your mouth to your neck where he stays for a few seconds while his hands roam your body until he leans back to look at you with a teasing expression on his face. "Right, so you're not wearing anything special underneath this?"

You notice Harry's eyes have turned a darker shade of green. You look behind Harry at the timer on the oven to see how much time is left before the lasagna is ready. Enough time for a little teasing.

“Want to check for yourself?” You say as seductively as possible. Harry kisses you hard and you laugh into his mouth at how fast he moves to unbutton your top and almost gets his ring stuck on it in the process. As he's working on the last button of your blouse, a loud beeping noise startles both of you. The lasagna is ready. Harry drops his head to your shoulder and sighs in frustration.

You laugh at his dramatic reaction and pat him on his back. "Come on pretty boy, if we don't eat soon I will actually eat the whole tray myself 'cause I'm starving."  

During dinner you catch Harry staring at your exposed cleavage a couple of times. You hadn't bothered buttoning your blouse again because you knew it would only be a matter of time until you wouldn't be wearing a top at all.

When Harry said he was too full for desert, which you knew was only an excuse to continue what you started right before dinner because desert was his favorite and he would always leave room for it, you decided to be an even bigger tease by insisting on having a piece of the cheesecake Harry bought for desert. 

The second you finish your last bite, Harry's on your side of the table. He grabs your face in both hands and presses your lips together hard. He moves one hand down to the side of your ass and taps it to signal you to get up. Once you're up he guides you to sit at the edge of the table all while kissing you passionately. He keeps one hand on the back of your head while he unbuttons the last button on your blouse, revealing the red, lace bra. He momentarily pulls back from kissing you to admire how stunning you look in his now new favorite lingerie set on you until he reattaches his lips to yours and lets his hand explore your body. After some time he starts kissing and sucking on your neck, leaving marks in different places. Harry hasn’t even touched you and you’re already a moaning mess for him. Finally he leaves a trail of kisses from your chest down to the top of your skirt. He uses his hands to bunch up your skirt around your waist and looks at you to check if you’re really okay with this. When you push his head back to your skin he laughs at your impatience and takes that as his cue to continue. He gives you one final look before his face disappears under your skirt. 

It’s safe to say the lasagna wasn't the only thing that was eaten on that dinner table that night.

[simphornies]

Hi lovely! Can you please do a one with a platonic angel dust X reader where the reader has a contract with Vox and the two of them bond over their shitty “bosses?” And the reader works as Vox’s bodyguard! I think it’d be so cute if they walk to vee tower together whenever their bosses call them in and never leave without each other! I’d imagine at first Angel soundly really care much for the reader, but after he joins the hotel they become great friends!

A/N: This one isn't really long so I'm sorry! I did my best 🥲 Writing a platonic story was harder for me than I thought </3

Word count: 831

Platonic! Angel Dust x Reader

You worked at VoxTek under Vox and you absolutely hate every second of it. You get the shorter end of the stick considering his hypnotism doesn’t work on you so you saw him for who he really was. You stayed at the hotel after finding a loophole in your contract with Vox. Every single day was more so annoying than anything. Considering you’re his bodyguard, you would have to go everywhere with him and catching up with Vox, the overlord that can zap into any electric device and teleport away, wasn’t really the easiest thing to do. You looked forward to getting out of work and hanging out with the hotel staff everyday.

One specific day, Vox decided to meet up with Valentino for the day during one of his shoots. There you met the famous Angel Dust. You two clicked as soon as you met, constantly talking about your contracts together and finding loopholes. You didn’t fail to notice how he held himself back from you a lot of the time, not really opening up and keeping up a mask. So you decided to try and get him into the hotel.

“Angel!” You called out to him. He just finished his shift, looking more tired than usual. “Rough shoot?”

He laughed and elbowed you, “Yeah. Rough.”

You rolled your eyes and laughed with him. “Okay that one was on me.” The two of you started walking home, chatting about your day.

“Hey so. I’d like to say we’ve been…y’know…friends for a while but I don’t even know where you stay.” You looked at him, “I’d wanna come over for drinks some time.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, “Ah. I don’t know…I live with Valentino.”

You choked on your own spit, “You live with him? Where have you been going every time we get off of work?”

“To the bar. Clubs.” He shrugged, “Anywhere with alcohol and drugs, honestly. I hate living with him so staying away for as long as possible is ideal.”

“You know…” You began, “I stay at the Hazbin Hotel. It’s really not that bad.”

“Y/N where are you goin’ with this?” He raised an eyebrow at you.

“You could crash with us, y’know?” You suggested. He was about to protest against it but you quickly stopped him. “Think about it! We get to be roommates, they have a bar and we can drink together and we get to go to work together!”

You shook his arm, “C’mon Angel! Pleaseeee?” You whined, giving him the best puppy dog eyes you could.

“I…I don’t know. Val wouldn’t be too happy with that.”

“Fuck Val. Fuck Vox. Fuck the Vees in general!” You exclaimed, “It’d be nice to have you around. You can’t have drugs there though.”

He groaned, “What? No drugs?” He whined, “Where’s the fun in that?”

“You trust me, don’t you? It’ll be plenty of fun. They got a bartender that I think is just your type.” You winked, elbowing his side.

“Hmmm…I don’t know, Y/N.”

“Angel I will get on my knees in the middle of the sidewalk and start screaming, crying, sobbing and begging.” You threatened him. He looked at you dumbfounded but the look of determination was clear in your eyes.

He sighed and ran his hands through his hair, “Ah fuck it. Sure. Take me to this hotel. I don’t got stuff like that anyways.”

You squealed in excitement, practically dragging him to the hotel. As soon as Angel got there, it didn’t take long for him to get used to the place. He definitely liked Husk, the bartender you mentioned earlier, as soon as he saw him.

You helped Angel practically move out a box of things he had at Valentino’s along with his pet, Fat Nuggets. It was fairly easy sneaking around the blind moth for you. After moving him into the hotel, you took notice of him getting happier by the day.

He still had to work with Valentino as you did with Vox. It wasn’t long for you and him to grow closer everyday. So much so that you two had a system going on in the morning.

Your daily routine with Angel would be getting up and getting ready at the same time, him helping you with your makeup for the day and the both of you going to work. Every shift sucked but it sucked a lot less ever since you two stayed together.

Angel confided in you more and you’d do the same. You would help him stay sober, drug wise. Every now and then the two of you would go out with Cherri Bomb, causing mayhem in the city and fighting in turf wars.

Hell wasn’t easy but with your new best friend by your side and a surprisingly good support system at the hotel, everyday gets easier.

You just wished you could get the both of you out of the contracts that bind you to the Vees one day.

[hatchan]

insights from therapy, a reflection -- because I won't go again until the new year

tw mental health, death, depression, etc

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when a suicidal thought pops up, as it often does throughout the week, I try not to dwell on it. don't give it much attention, focus on other things, etc. at the worst moments, I'm perpetually trying to distract myself with any kind of attention-grabbing stimuli to avoid the vivid depictions of self harm and suicide in my head

and obviously I HAVE to distract myself and avoid these thoughts, because they're irrational. the big one of the past few days was: a text from my boss. a text from my boss, saying thank you for coming to the work party and it was good to see me and a few other compliments. and my immediate, visceral, automatic reaction, in my head, to this lovely and innocuous text message, was to grab a knife and slice open my neck (IN MY HEAD NOT IRL). and because I have fast reflexes, I immediately catch myself and go NO. BAD GIRL. DOWN. STOP. and then the image flashes again and I have to go NOPE. DON'T and it takes a couple loops before the feral brain drops the suicidal impulse flashing in my brain. and so receiving a nice text leaves me feeling kind of tired and shitty even though it was objectively not a bad thing to happen to me. I have fast reflexes but this daily tug-of-war is exhausting

it also doesn't help that I'm hyperaware about everything everywhere that can kill me or hurt me. I don't get killed or hurt ever, because I notice everything and subsequently neutralize the threats (because none of them are ever Real threats) (I'm talking about: when I see broken glass on the sidewalk. I neutralize the threat by looking so I don't step on the glass and neither does the dog) (I avoid getting hit by cars the same way)

and a big part of the work has been about death in general. what it means to me, what I'm afraid of.

in short: death comes for us all. I'm aware of it, I'm preparing for it, I worry that it will happen by my own hand or before it has to happen. I did have a suicide attempt in the past, I looked into the abyss of death, the end of everything, the barrier you can only cross in one direction, and I'm drawn to it and repulsed by it. it calls to me and eventually I will answer.

so what does it mean for me to be alive? is flesh, is life sacred? I've been told my whole life it is, but lived experience tells me it's not.

that's probably the root of it. does life, mine or otherwise, actually mean as much as we're trying to convince ourselves that it does. and how a I supposed to live my life in the meantime, as a single fragile human with four limbs and half a death wish.

[haikyuuwaifu]

Ch 14

Genre: Humor, Drama

Warning: Swearing, Mild name calling

MASTERLIST

PLAY NICE OR GO FUCK YOURSELF

Y/n could feel the headache coming on as she walked down the sidewalk. Daishou and Kyoutani were arguing over something or another. She didn’t bother to waste her time trying to figure it out. Thankfully, Atsumu had picked up Boba, so the caffeine was helping. “Bunny, for the love of god, what have you been doing around here.” Daishou huffed, matching his stride with her own. Y/n merely chose to ignore him in favor of taking in the scenery.

The weather was nice, and it was fall. Everything was transitioning from Halloween to the next season, and Y/n had grown to enjoy the hustle and bustle of her little city life. “Maybe moving here was a bad idea after all.” Daishou grunted, causing the woman to roll her eyes. “You’re just being grumpy. We’re almost there so chill out.” She grunted around her straw, taking a harsh suck through it in annoyance. The man only snorted, rolling his eyes slightly. 

Steadily making their way to their destination, Daishou was ready to make another comment, when he recognized a familiar hairstyle through the window. “What the fuck is he doing here?” Daishou sneered, glaring at his sworn enemy. Y/n looked between Daishou and the window, noticing Kuroo inside talking to Hajime. “That’s Tetsuro, he’s a part of my friend group here.” She supplied, reaching for the door. “Bunny no, you never said anything about making friends with the likes of him.” Daishou hissed reaching for her hand. “I told you that I made friends with a barista that works at my favorite cafe Dai, what the hell is your problem.” She snarked, glaring up at him. 

The restaurant door opened to Kuroo, giving Daishou a salaciously maniacal grin. “Long time no see Suguru.” he cooed, flitting his fingers in front of the other mans face. “Do you two know each other?” Y/n asked, looking between both men. “Sure do princess, goes all the way back to primary.” Kuroo supplied, reaching out for her hand. Daishou stepped forward, ready to snatch it away, but Y/n was quicker. “Suguru Daishou, what the hell is wrong with you?” Y/n hissed, turning to glare up at him. “Nothings wrong with me bunny, he’s just a slimy piece of shit. I’ve told you our whole lives how shitty he is.” The man scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “You are a grown ass man, and far be it from me to forget all the times you bitched and complained about some guy you never named.” Y/n snarled. 

“If you don’t want to join us, you can always leave.” Kuroo supplied an easy going smile on his face. The rest of their friends were already seated inside, giving the trio the space to handle the situation. “Maybe that’s for the best.” Daishou grunted, moving to grab Y/n. “We can go somewhere else bunny.” He mumbled, tugging on her arm. “No.” Y/n hissed, taking her arm back. “I told you that I wanted to eat with my friends. I had already made those plans, and I refuse to bow down to your childish whims because you want to be a jerk.” She shouted, shaking her boba everywhere. “I invited you here, so you can get to know the people that have been taking care of me since I left that shithole you call home. So pull your head out of your fucking ass, or go.” She screamed, making her way inside.

-lunch was a very, very tense affair. It resulted in Kuroo and Daishou throwing barbs back and forth. Y/n garnering the headache of her life dealing with it, and it ended with Daishou storming out because Y/n didn’t want to spend any alone time together after. 

-in all honestly, Y/n regrets inviting the man to lunch in the first place. She’s reflected over her time away that Daishou really is a very toxic person, and she’s starting to see WHY her friends always get up in arms whenever he comes around.

the next chapter will be based a week later, with the arrival of Daishou’s main squeeze (DUN DUN DUN)

Prev/Next

[hubzzstuff]

Today's morning isn't over yet, but it started out so crazy!

I found out I lost my wallet when I could not find it at all, so I started looking everywhere and had my wife help me. There was no gas in the car

I got angry and took it out on her, when she did nothing wrong. Just trying to help her dummy husband.

I decided to call my mom for a ride, because she loves me and won't be to mad at a 15 min drive tp our house haha. What are parents for right??

Well, I then decide that I hate making my wife angry or feel bad. She doesn't deserve to be yelled at or dragged into an argument.

She's so amazing, she hugged me and said she LOVED ME.

From there we set up a new digital card so that we can gas up, mom didn't answer the call not to keep coming. I started driving and we passed each other before I made it out of our mobile park.

I went to the gas station and proceed to go inside and pay after my lazy ass tried using the reader and it didn't want to work.

After i gas up my car dies, hahahaha. So I call my mom for a jump and she was kind enough to do so.

Well I put the cables back in her car. I noticed a man walking on the sidewalk. We made eye contact and smiled at one another.

I then yelled at him, "how are you?!?"

He screamed back at me "I'm great, and you?!"

So I then hurled at him "it's great, going to be a little late but great!"

My morning was long to say the least, and as I finish typing this in my works restroom on the last ten minutes of my day, not even taking a real shit. Just sitting with the lid down.

I want you all to know, my wife is so amazing. She's my rock. Liz makes everything better. No matter how shitty things may get. That's one of the many reasons to why I LOVE her.

Love you BABYBEAN 😍 ❤️❤️

[imtooscaredforthis]

Fixation

Chap 4- Following

Mentions of: Stalking, Paranoia, Uncomfortable themes

Letting out a small sigh, you walked down the aisle, browsing through the cereals. It was about ten in the evening, and you were out grocery shopping. You knew that going out past dark was breaking one of your rules, but you were just at the post office, mailing one of your papers, so you figured now was a good time.

You had been putting it off, buying takeout and going to fast-food restaurants, and that started getting expensive pretty fast. So, here you were now, in the almost empty store, going to the checkout.

Once you got all your groceries scanned and paid, you left the store, bags in hand. You should really get a car, instead of having to walk everywhere, and possibly getting noticed by a serial killer.

It was pitch black outside, the only thing lighting up the road being the dim lampposts and streetlights. You made sure to keep close to lights, using them to guide you back home, and as a small sense of security you still had. In a way, it was kind of like a night light for you, showing any monsters that were possibly waiting in the dark.

Still, there was a skin-crawling feeling gnawing at you that you couldn’t shake. One that felt as if you were being watched. As if you were being followed.

You were too scared to look over your shoulder, and when you did, you felt your heart sink into your stomach. That feeling you had was right.

At the end of the street behind you, there was a hooded figure, slowly walking. They were too far away for you to make out any features. The only thing you could see was their black hood, and that they were following you.

This all didn’t feel real. It felt like one of those shitty horror movies you used to watch with your friends. But it was real, and you could feel your instincts kick in.

The next thing you knew, you were sprinting off, clutching your bags tightly and going through your purse, searching for your pepper spray. You were too distracted with getting away and defending yourself, that you didn’t even notice some rocks on the sidewalk, which caused you to trip and fall, your groceries and the contents to your purse flying everywhere.

You groaned, hurriedly going on your now skinned knees and collecting your things. You looked over your shoulder, seeing how far ahead you were. You must’ve ran two blocks without stopping. And you were suddenly very thankful for forcing yourself to run almost every morning.

The person who was following you was now nowhere in sight, so you let yourself relax a bit, getting all your things together and wanting to get home before they saw where you lived.

You then heard a car pull up, a low, charming voice following along with it. “You okay there, miss? I saw you running and taking quite a fall.”

When you looked up, you saw a police officer, sitting in his car. He was quite handsome, with short brown hair, a clean shave, and a nice muscular build, from what you could see.

“Oh yes, I’m fine, thank you. I just thought I saw someone following me.” You said that second part a lot more quietly, looking over your shoulder, checking if you were still being followed.

There was no one there, and while a part of you was relieved, another part was telling you that you were just being paranoid and seeing things. You could’ve sworn there was a person following you. You saw them, you did.

“You think someone is following you? I don’t see anyone. Why don’t I drive you home? I’ll make sure you get there safe.” He offered, which you chuckled at. “But I don’t even know your name.”

He laughed a bit, rubbing the back of his head. “Oh, right. I’m Jackson Lankster. Sherrif’s Deputy.”

“(Y/n) (l/n). It’s a pleasure.” You shook his hand, and he opened the door for you, having you sit in the passenger’s seat. After telling him your address, he began to drive over, making some small talk with you.

“You didn’t have to do this, really. I know you’re probably busy on patrol or something, so thanks for taking the time out of your day to do this.” You said with a smile, cringing at how much of a kiss ass you sounded like right now.

“Oh, it was no problem. Just doing my duty.” He grinned, drumming his fingers against the wheel as he pulled up to a stop sign. “I haven’t seen you around, you knew in town?”

“Yeah, I just moved here a month or two ago.” You answered.

“Well, it’s nice to see a fresh, pretty face.” He complimented, making your cheeks flush ever so slightly.

Soon enough, he was in your driveway, pulling up. But before you could get out of the car, he placed a hand on the edge of your thigh, stopping you. “If you ever need anything, just give me a call, okay?”

“Okay, thanks.” You cringed at his touch, putting your hand underneath his and pushing it away from your leg. It was disappointing that the people who seemed the most honorable had the worst behavior. Just when you thought you had someone that could help you feel safe and protect you, they turn out to be a total creep.

Maybe he just doesn’t understand personal boundaries. You told yourself, but deep down, you knew that was a lie.

You watched as the deputy drove off, sighing in disappointment. But before you could even get inside, there was a small squishing sound coming from the back of your house.

Setting down the groceries at your front door and grabbing your pepper spray, you carefully walked out to the back of your home, preparing to attack whoever was trespassing your home. Rounding the side, you saw them. A stranger egging your house, wearing a black hoodie that was similar to the one you saw earlier.

Feeling your anger get the best out of you, you dropped the pepper spray, grabbing them by their shoulders, flipping them around, and slamming them into the wall. “You think this is funny, huh? That this is some sort of game to you? Stalking me, calling my phone, and now vandalizing my house? What is wrong with you?”

“What are you talking about, lady? My friends dared me to egg your house, and they ditched when they saw the cop car.” You looked at him closer, realizing he was just some stupid teenager.

You sighed, letting him go. “Scram, kid.” Doing as told, the boy stumbled to his feet, running off into the night.

If he wasn’t the one who was following you and making those calls, then who could it be?

[noocturnalchild]

BLIND

One shot for our favorire detective Flip Zimmerman x reader ! 

Warning : Smut , NSFW, Sub!reader 

********************************************

“Hey you”

He threw his keys and cigarette packet on the table and clicked his boots towards you, as you busied yourself in his kitchen. He lifted the pot’s cover and inhaled the scent of the stew you were making. It was really not much. He said nothing, as was his habit, but you could tell from his nostrils flaring and the tiny smile that graced his lips that he was content.

“Hey” you shyly replied.

You liked him coming home to you putting yourself to use. It was the least you could do.

A couple months ago, Flip fished you out from a pretty shitty situation and shittier life you didn’t want to recall anymore. He offered you to stay with him till you figured your life out and you accepted, right away. Mere months that seemed like eons ago, and you were more than grateful for him, for that big sassy grump, cladded in his eternal plaid flannels.

“Bedroom is off limits” he said the first time you set foot in his house, with a serious look and a more serious tone, and you just nodded, apprehensive, but then he compensated, made sure you were more than comfortable in the guest room that became yours,  bought you new curtains, put in the trash the old gloomy pieces and replaced them with light and pretty ones, made sure to fix them himself. You thanked him more than necessary that day, and he just hummed.

Flip was bossy and secretive as fuck, always chain-smoking, everywhere, outside, in his pick-up, inside the house, his living room, the kitchen, his bedroom, everywhere, chewing on the stick of a cigarette and frowning at some documents that he always kept away from your curious glances.

“Go play away, girl” he would say, frowning even more as you pouted, just to smile when you turned your back to him, doing just what he asked, playing away.

You liked to keep his house tidy. He had little furniture, just the functional stuff, but you managed to insert, here and there, glasses full of flowers you picked up on the sidewalks, arranging them in what you thought were pretty bouquets and putting them in his large glasses, displaying them in the kitchen and the living room. He never commented, eyeing the things and walking around, frowning at his documents and cigarettes.

His place was warmer since you got to stay with him, he came to a nice dinner every night and the house smelled better, he noticed it all, but refrained from saying shit about it, ignoring the good changes, afraid of getting used to them just to lose it all in the coming months. He knew you were temporary here, and he hated to think about the day you were going to announce that you’d found a decent job that would allow you to pay rent and live by your own means. He actually dreaded the whole thing, mildly panicking every time he saw you, leaning over some newspaper, circling the job announcements you found interesting, just to breathe out of relief every time you came home disgusted, bitching about how awful the boss was or the dirty places you went to or just something. He would cheer you up halfheartedly and go out smoking.

“Well, there’s always tomorrows y/n”

And you always smiled at that.

As big a man as he was, He still wasn’t comfortable around you, when you slid closer to him, you both on the couch, casually watching the baseball games on Saturday nights. Or when he bumped into you in the bathroom, in your sleep clothes, and tried not to stare too long at your tits, obviously free from any constraints under those thin sleep shirts you liked to wear.

Sometimes he felt sick of himself, thinking of you in ways he shouldn’t, so he just kept keeping his distances, closing himself off, as you kept being good to him, always cheerful and happy around him, like a bee, his little bee.

Often, he came home very late, tired, exhausted. He let himself black out on the couch and when you woke up, late at night, to drink some water or go to the bathroom and you saw him all crumpled on himself on the couch, you made sure to take off his boots and cover him carefully. That, he knew. You also tucked away rebel hair strands off his eyes and watched him snore for a while, and smiled to the rare peaceful face he made when asleep, and of course, this, he would never know.

You knew he worked hard, you knew that he was like he was because of it. All the horror of crimes, all sort of wicked fuckers he dealt with everyday, the interrogatories, the stress, the anger and the nerves of his fucking job, the guns and the hematomas on dead corpses. Photographs, hundreds of them between his folders, hours and days of collecting evidence and sometimes pursuing false tracks, and you would expect him to come home to you with a fucking smile plastered on his face? Of course not, and if you were there, you better make yourself useful and alleviate some of this burden, and not expect a single thank you in return.

*

That night too, Flip came in late, very late, and collapsed on his couch, boots and jacket on. You watched him as he started snoring right away, brows pinched together, even in his sleep. It had been an exceptionally rough day, you concluded, and smiled to him nonetheless. You reached to free him of his leather boots, and he sighed in his slumber, burying his face under his arm. He was obviously uncomfortable, and instead of covering him as was your habit, you decided to push your luck a bit.

“Flip”

You whispered, close to his face, and his eyelids fluttered, selling him out. You smiled.

He ignored you but you were determined.

“Flip?” you shook his shoulder a bit and he grumbled “Come on please, go to sleep, let me take this jacket off you at least, you will be hot and bothered with it on all night” you continued, always whispering as he groaned low, tucking  his face further into his sleeves and you laughed this time.

Emboldened, you grabbed his hand and pushed him up, and it startled him, your bold move; his eyes widened, challenging you to push further.

“Don’t push your luck with me, feather weight!” he threatened you, fully awake now. But you just laughed and you saw him hide an amused smile. It was a game then.

You pushed again, two hands pulling on one big warm paw. His hand was so big, why was it so big?

“Come on Flip, please just this time” you whined, as he closed his eyes again, fully conscious.

“Please” you sang, “ it’s for your own good, you know”.

No reaction.

“I want you to have a good sleep tonight, Flip, come on” you said, softer, and he blinked, slowly opening his eyes, and this time he let you drag him off the couch. He shrugged off his jacket in one swift movement, then, docile, he let you guide him to his bedroom. It was suddenly too quiet, him just looking at you as you walked backward, hand always in his much bigger one.

You knew that his bedroom was sacred territory, but he didn’t say a thing when you didn’t stop at his door and continued to walk backward to his bed. He kept his eyes locked on yours, intense brown pupils daring you to stop, or not to. You decided to act on your instincts and kept going, holding your breath. He finally sat on the edge of his bed, and before you thought of letting go of his hand and stop the dangerous game you were both playing, he threw his big body backward, taking you down with him with little effort, making you both bounce on his mattress.  

You stayed like that for seconds, you on top of him, laid there, not daring breathe or move or speak.

Fast heartbeats and ragged breaths filled the quiet 3 am night. You didn’t move off him, you didn’t scream or run away, no, you didn’t push him away when he slowly put his arms around you, pressed you up a bit, tightly against him so your face was leveled with his. He looked at you with heavy lidded eyes, searching for something in yours, and he found it.

“Didn’t I say, bedroom. is. off. limits?” he shook you a little with each word and something in you ignited, at the deep low rumble he used to talk to you, at the veiled half threat, half promise of it.

“I… I’m sorry” you barely breathed, lips dangerously close to his, and he smirked.

“That’s it. You’re a good girl, you know that?” he whispered, nudging your nose, close, closer, too close.

Your heart wasn’t the only part of you that fluttered at his words, as you felt warmth spreading through your veins, and your body vibrated against his. He smirked again, pressing his lips to yours in a sweet and sleepy kiss. You let him, closed your eyes, then kissed him back, tentative little licks at his lips, he hummed a little and you responded with a moan.

“Hungry?” he asked. You couldn’t but nod, already feeling desire overwhelming you, wanting him to talk to you again in that tone of his, but it was his fingers that started to toy with your shirt instead. Your hands responded, rubbing and pulling on his flannel, and his muscles tensed as your lips caught fire, licking and biting and sucking at his, stopping only to catch your breath.

“Fierce little thing” he panted, reaching for your ass, patting it through the light shorts you were wearing just to pinch it hard, big hands splayed on both cheeks, squeezing hungrily as you moaned against his neck again, breath hot, burning his already excited skin.

“Flip …please”

Your hands reached for his flannel buttons, trembling fingers trying to get rid of the fucking fabric that stood in your way but he yanked your hand off and glared.

“You think you can spoil my rest, come to my room and do as you please, and get away with it like that?”

You hiccupped, frustration and hunger coiling in your stomach, pulsing in your core… This man, his voice, his tone, the look in his eyes, glistening in the dark.

“I’m sorry… please… Flip, let me” you begged, shameless, hips starting to grind against his and he groaned.

“Little bee” he puffed and rolled you on your back, looked at you as his hand reached to both your wrists trapping them up behind your head.

“Lights on, wanna see you” he let go of one hand, let you reach for the night stand, fiddle with the switch of his night-light until you managed to get it right. Dim light spread across the room, making your eyes squint a bit as he took you in, sucking on his lips when his eyes fell on your obvious hard nipples under your see-through night tee.

“See, much better. You look beautiful”

You blushed at the sudden soft tone, at the look of complete awe mixed with hunger he gave you.

“Flip.. I… I wanted this…you for so long”

“I know, doll, ain’t blind”

He dived into you, without restraint, mouth squeezing your perked buds through the thin fabric. He sucked at them, moaned into them, wetted the material, rolled his tongue, using teeth and spit as you arched your back, pushed your tits into his hot mouth, moaned high, hands both trapped in one big fist.

God, he was so hard, hard the minute he took you to bed with him. You were doing this to him, taking him out of his mind, out of his life, out of his shitty work, his shitty problems, and all the ugly things, all at once, making him feel good, so good, out of his mind.

“I thought you were…” you said when he let you catch your breath, and you bit your lip at the nerve of it.

He gave you a confused look.

“Blind” you breathed.

And his eyes turned sad and thoughtful, and he kissed your neck, slow and aching.

“Nah…” he sucked at your pulsing spot.

“I knew” another kiss.

“I know it all” another lick “want it all” a moan.

“with you”

Your body was just one tense chord, pleasure striking you, hot white heat between your thighs.

“I want you to keep doing all the pretty little things you do… those things you do for me , ya know, your little flowers and your pretty smiles, hum?”

He cupped your chin, looking at you tenderly, making you smile again, eyes fogged with happy tears as you nodded .

“Let me take these off then” you whispered, eyeing his clothes. God, he was still fully clothed, you couldn’t take it anymore.

He kissed you again, tongue battling with yours as he freed your hands that went tangling in his silky hair immediately, tousling his dark locks. You hummed in satisfaction but found little relief, so your hands fled to his flannel again, tugging it off, pulling angrily at his undershirt, sending it to the floor, not losing a second as your fingers began to unzip his jeans, freeing him of the heavy fabric before taking him in, heavy short breaths escaping your parted lips. You could swear you were drooling, as you flattened your palm on the hard planes of his abdomen, feeling the tremors and the heat of his belly, before traveling to his crotch, sensing his hot heavy cock as it pulsed with need, and you both closed your eyes for a second, reveling in the moment.

He hissed when you experimentally started to stroke him through his boxers, hazy eyes focused on your task as you sat on your knees. You pressed kisses to his stomach, flickered your tongue on his belly button, licking there, hand always working on his length, caressing his balls ghostly as he tried to control his breath, fisted your hair, played with it in his big strong hands, scratched your scalp gently, seeking your attention.

“Phillip…”

“It’s a risky game you playing down there, little bee, isn’t it?”

It was the first time you used his name like that, and you looked up, just to be met with the silver glint of a thin chain around his neck that caught your eyes. Small pretty six branch silver star decorated it.

You’d never seen him wear it, you’d never noticed it, tucked away under his shirts. It was just normal; you’d never seen him without a shirt before tonight, big shy grump that he was.

You couldn’t resist as you jumped up in his arms, pecking at his chain on his skin, peppering small kisses around it, pulling with your teeth on the silver thing, it took his breath away.

“You want me that much?” he let out a hoarse laugh, his hands were everywhere.

“Yeah… yes… I do” you buried your mouth in his chest, sucking at his nipple. Sloppy and wet.

“You don’t know what you doing to me, drooling over me like that” he panted, and his fingers wandered south, seeking your heat through your night shorts. You were embarrassingly wet, and you gasped and whined when he brushed your clit through the fabric.

“Be good to me, lay on your back”, he commanded and you obliged. You reached for your sticky tee to pull it off but he stopped you, hunched it up just under your breasts, and fisted it with one strong hand.

“No. This stays.”

He slapped one breast, making both joggle. You hiccupped again, arched your back. Round dark stains formed on the fabric around your tits, wet from his spit and your sweat and he seemed so satisfied of his doing.

With one swift movement, he yanked your shorts down with your panties, exposing your wet pussy to his prying eyes.

“Spread those pretty legs baby, let me see”

And you did.

“How do you want me?” You smiled to him, dizzy.

“Like that” he glared, ogling you.

And he splayed two fingers down your wet slit, massaging your entrance, pinching at your sensitive pink folds, rolling your clit, toying with it, making you quiver under his touch, whine and moan and drool on his sheets as your eyes rolled shut from the languid pleasure he was giving you.

His cock was painfully hard now, straining in his briefs, wanting relief. He pulled at your hand, brought it to his erection and guided it, slid it up and down. You teased his head, splaying your middle finger on the wet spot that pre cum formed on his slit, rubbing gentle circles that made him shudder.

“Fuck y/n, pull it off ..off.. fuck”

He was losing it, with the way you took his free cock in your small hand, the way you pumped it gently between your fingers, caressed the swollen veins, teased the head some more, cupped his balls, rolled them softly, moaned at just the sight of it… but god, when you sat back up and kissed it, parted those pretty lips of yours and gave it a loud kiss on the head, god, he felt it twitch, spasm, ready to burst.

“I swear to God y/n…” He barely breathed.

You smiled teasingly at him as you let yourself fall back on his pillows, and rolled your hips to remind him of his stilled fingers in your pussy. He decided to punish you a little and pushed two big fingers right in you, making you cry out. He didn’t let you recover as he started pumping them and curling them inside, in and out, fast, rough, punctuated by his ragged breaths and the slapping of skin as he fucked his cock into his fist, eyes glued to your pussy, to the sight of your hole greedily swallowing his fingers to the knuckles.

You reached for your stiff clit that needed attention, chasing an orgasm that started to creep in the pit of your belly, fire licking at your skin. He let you, spurred you on, praised you, and you moaned for him, moaned like a whore, like you never did in bed, with anyone.

“Go on baby, cum for me, cum for me here …let that tight pussy milk my fingers”

Your vision shattered, white pleasure shaking your limbs in erratic spasms as your hips jerked up and your head rolled back. He stilled his fingers, drenched in your cum, pressed them to your sweet spot, collecting some more before bringing them to his mouth, sucking them clean as he watched you coming down from your high.

You were so glad Flip was a natural secluded guy, choosing to live in a quiet sheltered place. You got only tall trees and crickets and squirrels as witnesses of your 3 am hot sex symphony.

“Good?” he asked and you nodded, catching your breath.

“Good. Now, doll, what is that you’re staring at?” he asked, voice deep, deep, as he played with his cock, teasing you.

“Your cock, sir. I’m staring at your cock” you purred.

Damn, you wanted to kill him?

“Let me hear that again” he said in his threatening tone, the one that made your insides melt again, begging for him.

“You cock, SIR.” you punctuated your last word, making his cock jump in his hand, and he squeezed the base, preventing himself from coming there and then as he decided to play with you a little longer, make you wait for it.

“Ahuh? Like what you see?” he tapped the head on your flushed pussy folds, started to gather your wetness, teasing you.

You squirmed “Yes, sir, I do”

“Want to take it?” he reached to one perked nipple, twisted it.

“Mghm.. Yeah” you pushed you hips into his cock, trying to get the tip in you, in vain. “Yeah, please, give it to me, I want your big cock, sir”. You were desperate.

“Want that fat cock?, huh, doll face?”

“Oh yeah, want it, need it, please put it in me” you mewled.

He didn’t need to hear more, grabbed your hips with two big hands, and pushed in. You both groaned from the intensity of it. The heat of it, the intimacy of it. You both reached for one another, wanting to take one another’s hand, knot your fingers together, connect, connect, connect.

“Fuck y/n… has been a while baby, you’re impossibly tight” he panted in your neck. He was impossibly thick and you were impossibly tight and it was heady, the feeling of his body flush against you, hands entwined, legs entangled, his scent invading your head, his facial hair tickling at your collarbone as he babbled, plush lips kissing every patch of skin available, lost in you, just as lost in you as you were lost in him… You whimpered and tried to push him further, deeper into you, angled your hips so your thighs were squeezing his, heels digging in his flesh, and he moved in and out of you, slow torturous motions, driving you both insane.

“Fuck Phillip, faster please…ah-“

He liked how his name sounded on your lips, and hell if he would deny you anything. He backed up a little bit and nudged his nose with yours, pressed his forehead to yours as you trapped your legs around his waist, giving him better access and you nodded.

He then started a faster rhythm, and you could hear your pussy making those obscene noises from it being fucked so good and fast and deep, balls slapping your ass, as his pubic hair scraped your clit, drowning you in pleasure and anticipation. Your nails scratched the back of his neck, your teeth nibbled at his earlobe.

He tracked your mouth and kissed you hard and rough, his silver chain batting at his chest as his hips went wild and your moans high, loud, vulgar. You didn’t care.

“Gonna fuck you so good baby doll, gonna fill you up so good, stretch that tight pussy so good” he breathed in your mouth, and you felt your second orgasm building so fast through your veins. God, you liked his cock, you liked how he moved his hips. He knew exactly what to do with you, he was one talented man, but his voice, it was just on another level, you could cum only from him talking to you like that.

“Please Phillip, just talk to me and I’ll cum”

“Ahuh? Really baby? God you killing me you know? You’re so good to me, look at yourself, taking my cock so nice, huh, Look at your pretty tits bouncing from taking my cock, pussy sucking cum outta that cock, fuck!” he rolled his hips in tight hard circles, and that was it. you spasmed under him, gasped in his mouth and he swallowed your cries in a searing kiss, as your pussy gushed around his cock, milked it, clenched around it.

“Did so good baby, yeah just like that”

He fucked you through your climax, so close now, knew it was coming, so fast and hard as his balls tightened. He pulled your legs up, hooked them on his shoulders, balanced his weight on his knees, and watched as his cock slid in and out your cunt, drenched in your cum and sweat.

He was so beautiful like that, you thought in your haze, face focused, those brows pinched together, again, but for completely different reasons this time. Locks of hair beating on his face, chain beating up his flushed chest, so beautiful as he pounded you, rammed into you, big hands manhandling you, so masculine and strong. Definition of sex.

His hips jerked, cock twitched in your pussy and he pulled out. He wanted you to see his load of cum as it burst out of his slit, jets of thick white ropes painting your belly and tits. His cock twitched and jolted again, leaking some more, until it was all over your body, hot and slick on your gleaming skin.

You splayed your fingers on your body, collected it and spread it some more on your skin, humming and buzzing in pure bliss as you watched your man recover from his high, staring at you, shaking his head in disbelief and amazement.

“Fuck baby that was… So hot” he huffed, incredulous, and you both laughed.

“Come here big man” you opened your arms for him and smiled, all teeth. He threw his big self on you, still laughing as you combed his hair with your fingers, and kissed him soft and sweet behind his ear.

“Can we go grab a bite now?” he asked after he took extra care cleaning you both up. He extended his hand, and you took it, beaming at him.

“You mean breakfast?”

“Don’t tell me…” Flip reached for his alarm clock , whistled long and incredulous when he saw the time. 5:45 am, no fucking way.

The first bird started its song outside, mocking him, and you laughed.

“What should I do with you now? keeping me awake all night huh?” He spanked your ass, playful as he grabbed for his first cigarette of the day and you rolled your eyes at him.

“Won’t be the last night, I tell you” You bit your lip as you took his hand, leading him to his kitchen.

“Ahuh, you smartass” but he smiled, kissed you again, knowing exactly that it wouldn’t.

[thatfunkyopossum]

@battlingeccentric​ said:                                                                

PLEASE elaborate on your dumpster diving guard and clone theatre headcanons

The Guard Definitely Steal Trash.

Clone theater will unfortunately have to wait for another day, but until then I’m happy to share my dumpster diving guard hc, as it’s one of my absolute favorites. I hope you enjoy the shitty mood board :’)

Okay so lets establish some things!

The Guard are one of the most stable divisions of the GAR. They stay in one place, have one home that, as far as we know, never gets blown up or otherwise destroyed during the war, and most likely they experience very light loss of personnel.

The Guard are stationed in a city. In fact, they are stationed in THE city. And cities are full of shit people don’t want.

They’re like..... Look the Guard are either not paid at all, or they’re paid very poorly. I personally can’t imagine they’re paid. It would be so expensive to pay your slave army comprised of millions, and it might get them thinking they’re people, and we can’t have that. Any money the guards have comes from picking up credits off the sidewalk. Besides, why would they need money when all of their basic living requirements are paid for by the government?

We have very little information on Fox as a person. He flinches when Anakin is angry at him, he immediately believes that Ahsoka killed his brothers, and when he thinks that Ahsoka killed Letta Turmond he tells her that he doesn’t blame her, but he arrests her anyway. There may be more information in the comics on his personality pre-66, but I haven’t read them.

So that’s the canon information we have. Now its time to start HCing! Namely, that with the second and third bullet point

There’s no way in hell the Guard don’t take stuff from the garbage.

There’s absolutely no way they don’t!! Do you know how much cool shit you can find in the trash, especially when you’re someone who has nothing? The guard are surrounded by opulence on a daily basis. They see beautiful possessions, people who have things, people eating all sorts of food, everywhere around them. CONSTANTLY!

Now imagine you’re a member of the Coruscant Guard. You’re a clone. This morning you woke up for your shift and you made your bed in your nearly completely barren barracks. You shave, pull on your standard issue blacks, and you put on your standard issue armor with its standard issue paint job. After all, it’s not like you’re important enough that the natborn higher-ups would want to be able to distinguish you from the rest, like they do with the commanders. And its not like you’re far away from the public, only ever seen by brothers, commanding officers, combatants, and the civilians that you’re protecting. No. Your armor is exactly the same as every other brother in the guard’s, because when the public and the senators see you, you have to be forgettable. A uniform face in a uniform crowd.

You sit down at breakfast with your brothers, and eat the same ration of nutrition paste you’ve been eating your whole life. If you’re lucky, you’ll get some sort of food additive to change the flavor a bit, but this is it pretty much. Then you go on your patrol shift.

You walk through the streets of Coruscant. It’s morning, so the bakeries have their doors and windows thrown open. The scent of baking bread is intoxicating, and you don’t think you’ve ever wanted to eat anything so badly in your life. You can’t even imagine what it tastes like, what the texture of it in your mouth might be, but your mouth is watering anyway. This is how it is every morning. You watch a natborn walk out of a shop, some sort of food thing in hand. They take a bite out of it and make a face. They exchange some words with their companion, sigh, wrap the item back up, and toss it in the garbage.

Are you telling me you wouldn’t stick your hand in a trash can for that meal??

Most Coruscant Guard have an experience similar to this within the first few months of their time actively serving. It rapidly becomes a somewhat accepted thing to do amongst themselves, but they’re VERY good at hiding it from their commanders and the public. If you’re not looking for it, you probably wouldn’t notice a Guard quickly reaching into a trash can, pulling something out of it, and slipping it into a belt pocket.

However, eventually the commanders notice. Specifically they notice when the dumpster diving expands from just snacks and food to whole ass items being brought back to the barracks. When Fox calls a guard meeting about it, held in the mess, the guard are all pretty nervous. They don’t want to be told off, and they don’t want to lose the little things they have.

But Fox, at least as the person I believe him to be, doesn’t get upset. In fact, the meeting is more stressing that its important that they don’t be caught, and that they maintain a professional face around the public. He makes it clear that they’re allowed to be people when they’re home in the barracks, away from the eyes of senators or the government. But that freedom to be themselves is only something they have as long as the people they serve feel no need to look behind the mask and see if they’re out of line.

Basically, as long as they give the impression of perfection, Fox gives them the go ahead to home-ify the shit out of their barracks.

So, towards the end of the war, if you were to ever find yourself in the CG barracks, you’d find a homey place full of chipped trinkets, scrubbed clean keepsakes, fairy lights, posters, salvaged books..... If you were to sit down on an old ratty couch with stitched up holes in those barracks, it wouldn’t be long before a fox mug with a broken handle full of cheap, watery caf was shoved into your hands.

The Guard don’t have much, and the things they have aren’t necessarily nice. But those things are theirs. And they’re precious. :)

[atsunflower]

Hospital for souls — Silent rebellion

Rated: SFW

Author notes: Man, this chapter was a pain. There isn't much to say about this one. Thanks for everyone who left a comment in the last chapter, y'all are absolutely endearing.

Warnings: Mentions of anxiety, cursing and very pissed off people.

III — Silent Rebellion

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Screams and pleas filled his sleep. His mind was frantic, but his body felt like it was cemented on the surface he laid.

Memories were vivid in the back of his mind, though he couldn't see anything with closed eyelids.

He remembers the glint of metal and he remembers the metal in the blood stench.

Am I dead? — and his body jolted awake.

The discomfort Sakusa felt wasn't caused by the way he slept in the couch and he wasn't disgusted by the sweat layering his skin.

He felt disgusted by the memory of crimson painting his hands.

Recalling the vivid image, his legs led him to the kitchen in auto pilot mode. Reaching for the sink, hands grabbed the soap, rubbing it as if his life depended on it. His eyes wandered around the place, taking in the cleaniness of it.

She had a good taste, he would give her that.

"Shit, Komori" In long strides he went for the bedroom the Kobun was. Resting his body against the doorframe, he took on the scene before him.

In the bed, the brown-haired male slept in a peaceful state, as if his life wasn't on the line a couple of hours ago.

Through the chapped lips, air exhaled in a steady pace; the sight itself allowing Sakusa to breath properly for the first time within the last hours.

"Sakusa-san?" Your whisper ringed on his ears. You came from your personal bathroom, holding a bunch of clothes and bandages.

Staring at your figure, he saw how tired you looked. He couldn't ignore the bruises and scrapes littering your hands and face either."Komori-san had a tranquil night. But I still think he should go to a hospital, just in case" He noded, stare hardening while you spoke.

"How are you?" The tall male asked in a mere courtesy, you were still unsure wether he cared or not about your well-being.

"Fine" You spat drily before making your way to the sleeping man. "Gotta wake him up to see how the wound is" the whisper left your lips in a rushed manner.

Sakusa observed as you crouched down to the bed's level, setting the materials you brought on the nightstanding. Placing a hand on Komori's right shoulder, you shook him gently, only to startle him awake.

"[Name]?" The man frowned, holding the hand you had on his shoulder on an vice grip. "What the hell? Where the fuck is Kiyoomi?" Hatred dripping out of his grey irises, you shivered under the weight of his stare.

"I'm right here, Komori" Your husband said pulling off of the doorframe. A sigh of relief left the kobun's lips while both males exchanged knowing looks.

You cleared your throat, shaking the wrist Komori was still grasping.

"Can I see your wound so you guys can discuss whatever?" You didn't mean to snap, but hell, were you tired. At least, the brown haired man had the decency to look sheepish at his outburst. "Other than pain, are you feeling anything?"

"It just hurts like hell" Komori replied eyeing you. He took in your appearence, noticing how bruises litered your face, how a greyish tone colored your eyelids and how chapped your lips were. There was a weight in your features that made you look even more tired than you were supposed to be.

"Do you think you can bend the ring and pinky fingers?" He hissed but did as was told. You undid the bandages, seeing the stitches were perfect. You hummed in satisfaction, changing the dressings and readjusting the splint. "You need to see a doctor, I can't say if there is a nervous damages in your arm." He nodded, eyes locking to your handiwork while you checked his vitals.

"What happened to my arm?" His voice was rushed, reacalling the memory of being stabbed.

"[Name] said the knife hit an artery. You didn't want to go to a hospital so she saved your ass." You didn't bother to listen their dialogue, leaving the room as fast as possible.

Coming from them, the word 'save' held no meaning to you.

"We gotta contact Fukuroudani and check if they found something." Sakusa said pinching the bridge of his nose "What the fuck is Johzenji supposed to mean?"

"I don't have idea. Do you think Inarizaki is involved?" Komori asked, doubting the Miya were related to the recent events.

Something about the fight was off and the Itachiyama oyabun couldn't pinpoint what it was.

"I guess they're not. But we can't let our guard down either" The ravenette huffed trying to ignore the weight on his chest.

"Well, guess she has a list of reasons to want us dead. And still, [Name] helped us last night" He shrugged, sitting on the bed. He looked around the place, not reconigzing it. "Where we are?"

He knew you weren't related to the incident, but a part of him refused to trust you.

Inarizaki isn't one to be trusted, after all.

"It's [Name]'s place"

"Suits her" The Kobun hummed "Well, guess we have to make some calls"

"Komori" Sakusa voiced, using a stern tone "We need to talk."

"Not a fucking chance" Was all the brunette said, ignoring his Oyabun as he reached for his phone, dialling Konoha's number.

Your body jolted up when you felt people in your surroundings.

"Oh, [Name]-san. You're awake" You heard Komori saying while you observed they making themselves comfortable in the armchairs of your livingroom. You grimaced at his nice attitude.

"You aren't supposed to be out of the bed." You frowned watching three paper bags seating in you coffee table, the rich scent of cinnamon and coffee filling your nostrils.

"Don't worry. It takes much more to knock me out, I'm fine" The hazel haired man said as he handed you one of the bags with his damaged arm as if to prove his point. He was supposed to be in big pain and yet, his face showed no sign of discomfort.

He should be used to it, you supposed.

You opened the bag, eyeing its contents. You realized it was from the café across the street; the wave of nostalgia hitting you again as you took both paper cup and caramel muffin in your hands.

You took a bite of the baked good, feeling the taste of cake and caramel melting in your tongue. You smiled at it, recalling the rushed mornings when you would go to the eatery, in your way to work.

"Is the muffin that good?" Komori asked as a glint of amusement crossed his eyes.

"I just missed this place really bad." A pleased face took over your features, almost making you forget the current situation you were in.

Again, why you had to go through this?

"[Name]" The ravenette's voice blared in your ears "Hurry. We have important business today" All of sudden, the food tasted stale in your mouth.

Both men were waiting for you on the entrance hall, observing how you quickly you tidied the place.

"Shouldn't we clean before we leave?" Komori asked Sakusa.

You rolled your eyes and stood to grab your belongings. From the kitchen drawers, you took a plastic bag to dispose the thrash.

"The lady upstairs takes care of the place for me" Oh, you heard it. "It's not like anyone is coming back here anytime soon, too." You three took the elevator, going to the sidewalk where the car was parked.

"What's up for today, then?" The Kobun asked as you three entered the vehicle while Sakusa occupied the driver's seat.

"We have a meeting with Fukuroudani and Inarizaki" Your husband said eyeing you through the rearview. You ignored them as they chatted. "Looks like they have info regarding Johzenji"

"Are we going there?"

"No, they're already on Itachiyama, waiting for us" The ravenette answered as he drove smoothly through Tokyo streets.

You were doing your best to forget the memories of the night prior, but you realized you have never experienced such stress. Your lungs gave in a shaky breath as your mind felt like on the verge of breaking down.

"So it's really like they aren't involved... you know" The silence was thick as you recalled their accusations.

A couple of minutes later, you realized the ride didn't last much as you spotted Itachiyama lands, the mansion being seen by distance with the pristine white of its walls. Across the gates, the clean pavement and stunning garden welcomed you while you spotted the expensive cars parked by the house entrance.

"Meeting room, now. You included, [Name]" And here he was, his timbre giving the fact that Itachiyama's Oyabun wasn't someone to be defied.

The air inside the house was crispy cold. Your body hurted everywhere and the unsettling feeling in your stomach wasn't going away anytime soon. You didn't want to have anything to do with this reunion, and you were restless about the idea of facing both Osamu and Atsumu after this whole month.

You despised them for making you go through this.

You were never been into the meeting room before. And the image before your eyes wasn't like anything you have imagined.

It wasn't like the regular conference rooms, with a large table with a good amount of seats and all. No, the place screamed traditional: pristine dark floorboards, paper pannels covering the walls and a large chabudai table on the floor, with ten pillowy seats partially occupied by the guests.

The room smelled like burning incense and sake, the scent making you calm in a weird way.

Sakusa indicated your seat as you three made your way to the table. The five men slighty bowed their heads, greeting you.

Your husband grabbed a jar of sake out of nowhere, serving the porcelain hakushika before you first and the proceeding to fill his, Komori's and the other guests cups after.

"Kanpai" they said before downing the alchool down. You mimicked their actions, feeling the liquid burning your throat. You winced at the sensation as Suna sent you an amused look — it took all of your might to not show him your middle finger.

"Heard y'all had a shitty night, huh" Atsumu said on his provocative manner as Osamu eyed him warily. Your husband sitting by your right seemed unfazed by it while Konoha clicked his tongue.

What a way to make disaffections, you thought.

"If you don't have anything useful to say, Miya, shut it." Komori warned the blond man without traces of simpathy " Shall we start?"

At this, the four other men eyed you with caution. Weren't you supposed to be here?

"[Name] was there and she could reconize the woman. It's her business too, since she was attacked first" Was Sakusa's response to their implied question.

"Were they aiming for her?" The ravenette you never saw before asked.

"I don't think they were necessarily targetting [Name], Akashi." You frowned at Komori's reply. Something didn't click, you thought as you opened your mouth:

"Did they attack Inarizaki?" A proud feeling took over your chest as you realized your voice sounded steady.

Suna frowned and looked at Osamu. The latter nodded at the brunette.

"Not directly. They tried to interfere on some of our business and kinda stalked one of Tsumu's... acquaintances. Yeah, that's all" it was Suna's answered not getting your point.

"How many people know the circumstances of our marriage?" You asked directly at Sakusa, seing him frown.

"Just the involved parts. What are you implying?"

"I... I think they are trying to use me to create a strain between Itachiyama and Inarizaki" Your voice wavered at it. Atsumu obnoxiously laughed at what you said as if it was some kind of joke.

"How cute, [Name]" the blond twin giggled as the atmosphere got heavier and heavier "Tho our relationship 's already strained. Ya ain't that special" He wipped an invisible tear to add to his annoying act.

"Actually..." The man Akaashi butted in, his face contorting in a pensive manner "I think she is right."

"Yeah, it's not like they know how the alliance between your houses was estabelished. Think, they tried to incriminate her and last night she was the first one to be attacked" Konoha added to the discussion. You looked at him with surprise "Don't be so surprised, we should know the reason why you went there last night."

"Okay. So the fact is they're after [Name]-san, trying to destabilize both Itachiyama and Inarizaki. Why?" Akaashi inquired, rolling the white hakushika between his slender fingers. The cup glinted in the dim light, reflecting in the gunmetal gray of his irises.

"Well, lucky us, we went ta Niiyama today." Atsumu chimmed in and you didn't have idea of what he was talking about.

"Nee-san doesn't know very much tho" Osamu added to his twin's speech "Looks like these Johzenji guys are a bloomin' gang"

"If they're a gang, what are they up to, then? It's kind dumb to mess with the families when you're this insignificant" Konoha asked seeming trully dumbfolded.

"They're trying, at least, show some bravery" Suna retorted, fidgeting with his cellphone. Straightening his back, a glint of unnecessary pride crossed his eyes as his lips twisted in a provocative curve "Inarizaki and Itachiyama are the most important households. If Johzenji manage to cause ruckus, it can gain some sense of respect between another gangs"

"Still, it doesn't make much sense" Akaashi said as he fished an manila folder on his suit. Suna shrugged at it, coming back to his usual aloof demeanor. "Well, looks like it's you problem. Fukuroudani will cooperate if needed, but it's not like we can be of much help right now" The male handed the envelope to Komori, before standing on his feet. "This is all the information we gathered from the guy we captured yesterday. It's not much, so we will send him to you by nighttime." He completed his statement with a solemn glare, out of respect.

"We have to go now. Thank you so much for having us here, Sakusa-san" Konoha said as he and Akaashi bowed their heads at Sakusa "Let us know if you need anything" The ash-blond haired man bid his farewells as Komori walked them to the doors. The air got thicker with the five of you stared at each other; Suna mouthed something at you, but you couldn't catch what. Atsumu looked at you two with a mischievous smile but opted to keep quiet instead.

The Itachiyama Kobun returned, sitting back on his previous position.

"You okay, Komori-san?" Osamu asked as a mere courtesy, trying to break the still atmosphere.

"Oh, it's nothing. Just a cut that [Name]-san managed to patch up" The hazel haired Kobun replied in a polite tone while the infamous Inarizaki duo arched their brows to the honorific he used to reffer at you.

"Glad ta know she is not useless ta y'all" Atsumu provoked as he got up from his seat. He held back the urge to strech as his fellow companions did the same "It's time we go, too. Since they afta' Ina too, let us know if they try somethin'." Looked like the blond really meant it.

"We will see you off, then" Sakusa spoke for the first time in a while as you all stood from the low sitting position.

You husband and his Kobun went first, opening the doors and guiding you trought the corridors. Suna walked by your side, when he ruffled your hair for no special reason.

"Make sure to rest, you look like shit" He snickered but you were too tired to argue "I have something for you. Here, take it." the tall male handed you a beige envelope with a cute sticker of a Kitsune sealing it.

You took it with grattitude while he smiled softly at you. You mouthed a quiet 'thank you' at him as the brunette ruffled your hair again.

"Well, thanks I guess" Atsumu bid a half-assed farewell as he got out of the mansion. Suna and the other Miya twin followed him suit, not without bowing their hads at Sakusa showing some courtesy. You swore the gray irises of Osamu lingered a little longer in your figure; you choose to ignore the churning sensation in your stomach as you tried to decipher his intense stare.

"What is it?" Your husband inquired, glaring at the envelope in your hands with suspicion; you opened it and froze when you looked at its contents. With the lack of response he snatched it from you in a rough manner, crumpling the paper.

"Hey, you don't need to be rude!"

"You don't get to tell me what to do" He bluntly said as he inspectioned the envelope "It's not like I have any reason to trust you, Miya runt."

Within you, something snapped. You were sure you'd regret it later, but for now, you would blame the stress you were upon.

"Very much to respect your women" Your voice dripped venom as you recalled what he told you in the first day you met "You know, it's not like I wanted to be here, anyways"

"[Name]" Komori warned but you choose to ignore him.

"I hate this fucking yakuza thing. I despise you as much as I despise the Miya" You told as you looked at him dead in the eyes.

"Oh, fancy words coming from a Miya yourself." The ravenette said, keeping his cool.

"I'm not a fucking Miya!" You sneered, althought you wanted to scream "I'm not at fault that good for nothing of their father got my mother pregnant. Bad news to you: you fucking married a bastard"

"I can tell I did" His brow arched. His silence was unsettling but you didn't want to back out at this point.

"Well, I did too. Tough I regret the day I was forced to get involved with a criminal bastard like you." It was too fast. In a second, his tall frame was towering over yours.

You froze under his hard stare, sure he could end your existence anytime he wanted.

"Get the fuck out of my sight" The deep baritone of his timber killed any courage you garthered.

Yakuza would take away any dignity you had.

❥ taglist is closed: @ukaiwachin @keekee-732 @chiibichann @shinguchi @captain-shittykawa , @fortheloveofbakugo @daisyjaebae @jihoonspout @floodinginstars @fl4mepillar @trash4sportsanime @translucentthoughts @teaanbanter-blog @hqxreader @ly-nia @shadyjinyoung @julimausi1311 @keuromi @onigiriimiya @ayaeushi @wolfiepirate @sekshi-namjas @tomo-uwu @letmegetthisclear @katokanae @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @cherryonigiri @ushijima-meixiu @bimboiiying @crownedcupcake17 @thenerdyrebel @idiot-juice-enthusiast @caprolls @keijination @toaster-stick @ynjimenez @wolfytrixa @wakaitoshi @clowninfortodoroki @shiningotak-ku @kemochie @lilacshouko @imomomi @ohmythatmiya @freewitchjellyfish

I had to remove some names since tumblr wasn't letting me tag them. If by any chance you want me to try and tag you again, leave an ask.

[xkindaxouttaxluckx]

“Shit. Shit. Shit.”

Catalina swore as she quickly ran down the sidewalk, weaving through the crowd as she raced to get to class on time. Today was a shitty morning, she forgot to plug in her phone so her alarm didn’t go off. And her roommates had earlier classes so there was no one to tell her she over slept. Plus she was already three blocks away before she realized she forgot her laptop and had to run back and get it. Needless to say, Lina wasn’t having a good time. She managed to finally make it on campus and was sprinting towards the doors that she didn’t even notice someone coming out. Catalina tried to stop but inertia got the better of her and the two crashed together, papers flying everywhere. “I am so sorry!” she apologized and quickly tried to gather them.

@softiexwithxaxviolin

[boxoftheskyking]

Pick Up Every Piece - Part One

Ok things to know: -this does not take place in China. It does not take place in the US. It is the year 2000 in a fictional country that I control (this project is a challenge called Let’s Do Exposition). Just go with it. -It’s all talking. That’s what I do, you know this. -Warnings for stuff, I dunno I haven’t written it all yet. When it’s shiny it’ll go on AO3 but for now here’s what I got so far.  -There is a lot of alcohol in this fic -Like all fic writers I live on positive reinforcement and this shit is a lot of work. -The title may change, yes it is from NMH

---

There are bodies in the creek bed. Enough bodies to stop the flow of the water. Thirty at least, a dam of them. An old woman and a child. Clothes and hair sodden, darkened and wet. Clouds of darkness hovering in the air around them, seeping into dead flesh. An old woman and a child and others. Others in that middle age, the age that passes comment. Is it wrong that these two bodies stand out to him? After all, if he were among the bodies, if he was lying in this creek bed, thirty, skinny, and unremarkable, he would hardly notice himself. He’d blend into the pile, only serving to make the word a plural. Body becomes Bodies. Alters the language. Murder becomes Massacre. There are thirty bodies and hundreds, thousands of flies. Crawling on the back of the little boy’s hand. A smell like—not burning, not quite. Death. Not rot, fresh death. The sand under his feet is nearly dry. The creek bed is dry.

Wei Ying blinks. The creek burbles on alongside him, one duck lazily riding the current under a fallen branch and along to somewhere more interesting. It’s October, and beautiful, and there’s the smallest twilight bite in the air pricking at his nostrils on every inhale. He blows out a long breath and finds himself scratching at his arms, the backs of his hands, where the old scars are. They’re ugly, blotchy and dark like land masses on a faded old map, and they still itch sometimes. He rubs at them hard with the heel of his palm—it’s a weird half-feeling, the layers of dead tissue. It’s not dead, Wen Qing would correct him. It’s not necrotic, it’s just scarring. 

He steps around the gnarled roots that reach up from the banks, trying to get to the road but not ever making it. There’s a few muddy stuffed bears tucked among them, plastic wrap snagged on the bark from cheap drugstore bunches of flowers that have rotted away. A couple of carefully hand-painted wooden signs nailed to the trunks, trying to convince the place that people still remember.

He shakes himself and turns away from the woods, hopping the fence onto the road that leads to the bar. He’s late, but Li Chen is always late in the mornings so he deserves to work an extra fifteen minutes. It’s not like there’s a manager to yell at him.

The bar is across the street from an old gas station, one that got firebombed during the war and then left. That’s the thing about Yiling. Everywhere else, even up in Gusu, the cities have gotten rid of as much evidence as possible. Well, they’ve gotten rid of most and turned the rest into memorials to the victorious dead, nice and shiny and flying the Sunshot flag. Nobody really cares about appearances around Yiling—maybe the city council does, but they don’t have anywhere near the budget to run cleanup. Too much actual infrastructure got hit during the worst of the fighting, and they’ll be years behind the rest of the country for the next decade or so. Memorials here are all handmade, and none of them last long.

There’s a flag, though, spray painted on what’s left of the concrete wall of the gas station. A golden hand covering most of a red sun, partly covered by black—one finger for each of the four leading clans and a thumb for everyone else. Typical. He’s not sure who’d have painted a Sunshot here. No one local, he’d put money on it. He supposes they know about spray paint in Lanling—governments must adapt.

It’s probably intentional, anyway, the lack of cleanup. The lack of progress. Nightless City can be repurposed by the Jin government, but the site of the Massacre should stay ugly and busted for a few more years. So no one forgets what it looks like to lose.

Wei Ying likes it in Yiling. “It’s my kind of town,” he always tells Jiang Cheng, who usually throws something at his head. “You want to be a bartender in a town like this. In a town like this, people need a bartender. It’s nice to be needed, you know.” 

It’s a shitty bar by any other place’s standards, but for Yiling it’s cozy. The owner, who everyone just calls Granny, still orders sawdust for the floors like it’s 1860 or something, to soak up spills and puke and, occasionally, blood.

Jiang Cheng always says it’s only a matter of time before they have murder in the bar. “Manslaughter, at least,” he’ll say. “It’s just got that look.” Wei Ying says everyone in Yiling’s too tired. Mostly he and Wen Ning just roll drunks out onto the sidewalk and into a cab if someone can afford it. 

Jiang Cheng himself comes in around eight. It’s as much of a rush as they ever get, so he has to wait for a few old men to get their cheap lager and gin before sliding up to the bar on his usual stool. Wen Ning gives him a cheerful salute as he comes in, and Jiang Cheng nods awkwardly back at him.

“You’re back early,” Wei Ying says, drawing him a pint of something bitter. Jiang Cheng still lives in Yunmeng, in the old family home, but he has a sublet in Yiling now that he’s working for the intelligence department. Jin Zixuan calls it “cutting his teeth” monitoring old Wen strongholds. Jiang Cheng calls it “shoveling shit.”

It turns out cleaning up a civil war is a pain in the ass, even five years later.

“We should do lunch with Wen Qing on Saturday. She’ll want to see you.”

Jiang Cheng pulls out his annoying little planner, full of his cramped handwriting and meetings with this informant and that police sergeant. “Have to be brunch, I’ve got a twelve-thirty on Saturday.”

Wei Ying snorts at him. “Brunch, in Yiling. Good luck.”

“Hangover breakfast, then.”

“That we can do.”

Jiang Cheng takes a long pull of his beer and Wei Ying can see the relief run down him from the crown of his head down over his shoulders like something hot and slippery. Oil maybe, or homemade noodles. He groans and drops his head down behind his glass.

“Hey, Wei Ying!” An arthritic hand waves at him from the other end of the bar.

“Gotcha, Riseung,” he calls and starts fishing for the kahlua and cream. It’s always at the back of the cooler; no one else ever orders it. “You’re gonna work yourself into an early grave,” he tosses back at Jiang Cheng. 

“Not if you keep giving me beer.”

“Hey, Wei Ying, I saw that story last week. Hell of a thing.” Li Riseung has a little cream mustache, but Wei Ying’s not going to mention it.

“The gas thing?” Wei Ying grins at him. “Yeah, I’m telling you, it’s all connected. You watch the prices when Lanling tries to pass another referendum. It’s all supposed to soften you up. You got something for me today?”

“Still writing your conspiracy theories?” Jiang Cheng calls to him. “Some guys just don’t know when to quit.”

(Someone else comes up, he pulls a pint of stout.)

Riseung bristles. “Wei Ying is the only real journalist left in this country. You’ll see.”

Wei Ying props his chin on his folded hands and waits. Riseung takes another long sip. “Yu Xiuying’s got her popcorn maker up and running. She’s starting to sell what she can, make enough to get the theater back in order.”

“Really? That would be something. I’m sick of taking the train every time I want to see a movie.”

“You should report on that, get her some customers.”

Wei Ying drums his fingers on his chin. “Maybe we can work out an ad situation. I need more ads, you know. Papers ain’t cheap.”

Riseung finishes his drink, sets the glass down on the bar. He half-reaches for his pocket. “So, do I owe you, or . . .”

Wei Ying stifles a sigh. Technically it’s nothing he can use. He’s not about to publish an expose on popcorn. Still, he waves a hand. “Your money’s no good here. Go on, keep up the good work.”

The man grins up at him, flashing a row of silver fillings, and heads over to bother someone else. 

(Another customer—rum and Coke.)

“You’re just letting people drink for free, huh?” Jiang Cheng says. Wei Ying wanders back over to him, taking a sip of his own drink (coffee, plus whiskey, just enough to get through the shift).

“Reporting is all about cultivating sources, Jiang Cheng, even you should know that. Li Riseung is a source.”

“A source,” Jiang Cheng mutters. “He’s a drunk.”

“So’s everyone. This whole country’s full of drunks. Drunks make the world go around.”

Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes. “This city is fucking depressing.”

“Oh, and all of Lanling’s sober, is it? Yunmeng? Everybody’s living like Lans? You’d be much more pleasant with a few more of these in you.” Wei Ying grabs his pint glass and dumps the end of it out, refilling in the same smooth movement. It’s just out of spite. He shouldn’t be wasting a good few ounces of genuinely nice beer. But he can’t help it; Jiang Cheng brings it out in him. He spins and shimmies a bit to the bad pop song coming from the busted speaker above him and grabs a bin of limes to chop.

“When are you going to come home?”

Wei Ying doesn’t slip and cut himself, but it’s close.

“I live in Yiling, Jiang Cheng.”

“Yeah, for now.”

Wei Ying sighs. “I like it here, okay? You think they’d let me back in Yunmeng, after everything?”

“I’ve got influence now. They wouldn’t say anything.”

(Two lagers, shot of tequila.)

He hasn’t lived in Yunmeng in years. Almost a decade now. He was in Yunmeng at the start of everything, when Wen Ruohan was forced out of office and half the military went with him. He visits now, but there’s still that sense of before when he’s there, like the majority of his life hasn’t happened yet. But Jiang Cheng is never going to get that, he’s a linear person.

“Not saying anything isn’t the same as allowing. I’m not going to make you fight all day just so I can work at some bougie wine bar somewhere.”

“You wouldn’t have to work at a bar. You could—”

“What? Write? You think anyone anywhere is going to hire me at a paper again? Despite all the rumors, you’re not that dumb.”

“Fuck off. You could work with me.”

“Intelligence. Really? How do you think that would work out? ‘Yes, Jin Zixuan, whatever you say, Jin Zixuan—’”

“Fuck off.” 

Wei Ying shakes his head and scrapes a pile of lime wedges back in the bin. “I like where I am. I’ve got the paper—”

“It’s not a paper.”

Wei Ying doesn’t slam the knife down, but it’s a close thing. “Jiang Cheng—”

“You’re such a fucking martyr. What, you lose your dream job so you go to the ass crack of the world and set yourself up as king of nowhere?”

“I’m not king of anything, I’m just writing.”

(Three glasses of white wine.)

“Yiling Laozu.” Jiang Cheng clicks his tongue. “I know you can’t use your real name, but that’s embarrassing. Laozu. You and your sources.”

Wei Ying takes a breath and unclenches his jaw. “If Wen Qing were here you wouldn’t be calling us embarrassing.” 

“You’re embarrassing. She’s not embarrassing.”

“It’s our paper.”

“Wen Qing has dignity. You have none.”

Wei Ying gathers up his knife and cutting board to run them back to the dish pit. “Ah, Jiang Cheng, you love me. I know you do.”

It’s always a good way to end a conversation, their own private code. If you keep pushing here you’re going to break something. A warning. You love me. I know you do. Jiang Cheng doesn't ever deny it, but he never agrees either. He doesn't need to. Wei Ying has proof. The scars on the back of his hands, curling around his wrists and up his arms—burn scars, chemical burns—are proof. Jiang Cheng doesn't like to look at his hands. That's proof too. 

 When he comes back out, Jiang Cheng isn’t alone. The general noise of the bar has fallen to a murmur, and the rowdy game of dominoes is paused in the corner.

 Xue Yang is sprawled over two stools, dressed in shiny black leather and grinning a few inches away from Jiang Cheng’s face.

“How’s it going, Captain Jiang?”

Jiang Cheng leans away. “I don’t see you. You are not here.”

“Course not. Good boy.”

Jiang Cheng’s hand tightens around his glass, and Wei Ying picks up the pace slightly. 

“Leave him alone, Xue Yang,” he says, carefully mild.

The grin turns on him, and Xue Yang waves, his weird little black prosthesis sticking out like a lighting-struck tree. “You telling me what to do, Wei Ying?” 

“I would never. Here, have a drink. If you want.” He pours him a double from his own secret bottle, the one Granny gave him on a good night in the summer. It’s painfully ironic—Xue Yang would be the only person in Yiling who could afford it if he ever actually paid for it.

Wei Ying nods to him and slides the glass across the bar, along with the usual brown envelope. Jiang Cheng sighs and spins around on his stool, looking away.

“Feels light,” Xue Yang says, like always.

“It’s not,” Wei Ying says, also like always. 

Xue Yang grins around the little white stick hanging out of his mouth, and Wei Ying grins back. “Eight percent extra on anything you’re short next time.”

“It’s not short. And it’s five percent, don’t try to fuck with me.” Wei Ying smiles wider and does not blink.

“Maybe it’s changed.”

“Granny would tell me, and she wouldn’t hear it from you.”

“Maybe it’s changing today.” Xue Yang leans across the bar, not quite getting in his face, but close enough. Wei Ying meets Wen Ning’s eye over his shoulder. Wen Ning takes a few steps away from the door, but Wei Ying shakes his head just a fraction and he goes still.

“You don’t have the authority.” Wei Ying lets his grin go a little unnatural at the corners, a little bit of a snarl. “And it’s not short, so it doesn’t matter.”

Xue Yang laughs and tucks the envelope into his jacket, then takes a long swig. Wei Ying breathes, finally, quiet and careful.

“Xue Yang,” he says as he starts to wipe down the bar again. “You know you wound me.”

Xue Yang wipes his mouth on his sleeve. “Oh do I?”

“You know it hurts me, deep down in the soul parts of my body, to see you drink top shelf scotch with a fucking sucker in your mouth.” 

Xue Yang sticks out his tongue so Wei Ying can see the little yellow nub of it. “It’s pineapple.” 

“Great. Thank you. I’m going to go drink bleach now.”

Jiang Cheng half turns to glare at him. “That’s not fucking funny.”

Xue Yang chugs the rest of the scotch and tosses the empty glass at Wei Ying. He hates that it makes him flinch before he catches it. “Tell Granny I say hi.”

“Fuck off.”

“Hey, where’s the little one? Haven’t seen her in a minute.”

Wei Ying stiffens. “You’ll stay away from her if you cherish the rest of those fingers.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Xue Yang gives him a mocking salute and saunters back out towards the door. He’s nearly out when he knocks into an empty chair, sending it to the floor with a crack like a gunshot. No one hits the deck completely, but the held-breath silence turns into a gasp as all eyes snap to the sound, shoulders up and hands braced on tabletops, thighs tensed and ready to run. 

Even Xue Yang is frozen at the door for a second. He laughs, though his jaw is tight. “Just a chair, ladies and gentlemen. Clean this shit up, Wen Ning.” And he’s gone.

Wei Ying deflates, adding some of the good scotch to his own cup. Jiang Cheng makes a face.

“How’s that coffee?”

“Shut up.”

“You should let me talk to Zixuan.”

“You talk to him every day.”

“You know what I mean. How long have you been paying—”

Wei Ying sighs and flicks his rag at his brother. “Thing one: I don’t pay, Granny pays. Thing two: Xue Yang is just a low level street thug with connections, he’s as in charge of the operation as I am in charge of Yiling. Thing three: it all kicks up to the Jins at the end of the day, so what are they gonna do about it?”

“Zixuan isn’t—”

“Yeah, I know your best pal is the paragon of morality.”

(Scotch and soda, root beer, gin and tonic, and three pints.)

“He’s our brother-in-law.”

“And your brother-in-arms, I know, I’d never dare disparage the mighty—”

“He’s a nicer brother than you are.”

Wei Ying mimes a faint. “I’m going to call Shijie, tell her you’re being mean to me.”

Jiang Cheng goes quiet, looks down at his beer. Wei Ying reaches out for it, an offering.

“Another?”

Jiang Cheng shakes his head. “I shouldn’t.” A chunk of his hair comes loose from its tie, feathers across his forehead.

“When are you gonna cut that hair, huh?” Wei Ying flicks it back over his ear. Jiang Cheng swipes at his hand lazily.

“I like it like this.”

“You and Zixuan are twins now, huh? You cultivators. Does Lan Zhan still keep his long, do you think?”

“Dunno. Haven’t seen him in a long time. Stop it, leave it, I have it how I want it.”

Wei Ying laughs at him. “Looks good. Dignified. Hey, did you ever ask for Zidian back?”

Jiang Cheng’s face does something complicated, a little bitter. “Not gonna happen. No spiritual weapons are gonna be authorized any time soon.”

“Yeah, but it’s yours.”

“It’s not mine. It’s the government’s.”

“But it responds to you. What good does it do locked away in—”

“Leave it, Wei Ying. I know you’ve got opinions about cultivation, but I’m fucking tired and it’s not going to change anything.”

“Well, when you’re in charge. Then you’ll show ‘em.”

That does make Jiang Cheng laugh, which is satisfying.

(Two gin and tonics.)

“Hey, you’re not allowed—” Wen Ning calls from the door, followed by the tap-tap of a metal cane. Wei Ying sighs and reaches for the grenadine.

“Wei Ying, you son of a bitch.” The voice is high, reedy, and cackling. “How the hell are ya?”

“A-Qing,” Wei Ying calls mildly. “You can’t be here.”

“Where is here?” she yells, as always. “How am I supposed to know that? Can’t you tell I’m blind?”

“Get out of my bar.”

“Discrimination!” She makes her way across the room, purposely bumping into every occupied table on her way over, just to slosh beer onto the floor.

“You’re fourteen.” He has her cherry soda on the bar by the time she hops up on the stool next to Jiang Cheng, ignoring him entirely.

“And how do you know that, creepy old man?”

“You made me get you a cake for your birthday, you goblin.”

“Who’s this guy?” She takes a long slurping suck from her straw.

“My didi.”

“You—!” Jiang Cheng hates it, which is the only reason Wei Ying says it.

“Ooh, the famous Jiang Cheng. I bet he looks real grumpy.”

“Yep.”

Jiang Cheng flips him off. He grins and goes back to wiping down the drain.

“He just flipped you off, didn’t he?”

“Yep.”

“Nice.” She finishes her drink and slams the glass down. “Double vodka please.”

“Nope.”

“I drink vodka all the time.”

“Don’t care. I’m not getting fired over your sorry ass. Go drink at home.”

“I’m not allowed vodka at the home.”

“And you’re not allowed here either.” He drops the rag back into the sanitizer and leans his elbows on the bar. “Now, are you here with something interesting or just to pester me?”

Jiang Cheng looks like he’s about to interject, but Wei Ying waves him off.

“I can multitask,” A-Qing says before pushing her glass back across the bar. “More sugar first.”

“Diabetes on the rocks, yes madam.”

She takes a long slurping pull, and he folds his arms, waiting. 

“Got a new TV at the home. Real big one.”

“A-Qing, I’m waiting.”

Jiang Cheng squints at her. “How do you know how big the TV is?”

“I just know, okay. Anyway. One of the older kids got it. Bought it himself.”

“Yeah, right,” Wei Ying says. He needs to challenge her if she’s going to give him the whole story. If he seems too interested she’ll draw it out just to fuck with him.

“He did. Wen Changming.”

“A Wen?” Jiang Cheng asks.

Wei Ying rolls his eyes. “Lots of Wens in the children’s home. I wonder why.”

Jiang Cheng makes a sour face at him.

“He’s got cash to burn, suddenly. Pockets full.”

“Gee, I wonder how you found that out.”

A-Qing grins at him. “He’s not gonna miss it. He’s in the club now.”

“The club?”

“You know, the club. What do you call it? Do crimes, get money.”

“Mob? Syndicate? Criminal organization?” Jiang Cheng offers.

“So they’re recruiting at the home, that’s what you’re telling me? Is it Xue Yang?”

A-Qing blows bubbles in her soda. “I don’t know, maybe.”

“Must be desperate.”

“You do the same thing.”

“I do not.”

She holds out a hand. He sighs and passes over a couple of bills. 

“You staying there tonight?” he asks, all casual.

“Maybe. The girls are annoying. Should be nice outside.”

“Starting to get cold.”

“Not really. Only if you’re a pussy.”

“You call me if you need to crash. Here.” He drops a couple of coins in front of her. “I’ll be home after midnight.”

“Sure thing, boss,” she says, pocketing the change. She gives a little salute and hops off her stool. “So long, Wen Ning!” she shouts, walking right at him and making him hop out of the way.

She’s not really blind, of course. Wei Ying’s never brought it up—he knows, but he’s not sure she knows that he knows. One of the nights she crashed at his apartment, months ago, he caught her reading through one of his binders of old clippings—‘91, back before the start of the war, when he was still in Gusu. It kind of kills him, because he wants to ask her what she thought of them. What she remembers from back then, if there’s anything. But they don’t talk about anything serious, not if they can help it.

“Please tell me you don’t have a teenage girl staying at your place,” Jiang Cheng says. Wei Ying gives him a great sigh and grabs his rag again.

“Only when she's got no other place to go. Oh, I have a futon now! You’d see it if you ever came over.”

“Wow, great, you're thirty years old and you have a secondhand futon. Mother would be so proud.”

“I didn't say it was secondhand.”

“Wei Ying, trust me, you do not need to.”

 (Four pints.)

Wei Ying makes a face at him. “So mean.”

“It’s weird that she stays with you.”

Wei Wuxian sighs again. “Jiang Cheng.”

“It is. It’s weird.”

“If it’s a bad night at the home then she sleeps outside. I don’t like her sleeping outside, so she stays with me. When she’s not being ornery.”

“She’s a teenage girl.”

“She’s a baby.”

“Not your baby. Why would she sleep outside anyway? Yiling sucks.”

“The home sucks. Look, it’s an orphan thing. You wouldn’t understand.”

Jiang Cheng pouts. “Hey, I’m an orphan.”

“No you’re not, you’re a grown up.”

(Whiskey, neat.)

“You’re a grownup. My parents are dead; I’m an orphan.”

“Then everyone’s a fucking orphan in this country. The word’s lost all meaning. From now on, if your parents were alive when you were ten, you’re not an orphan. Find a new word, leave ours alone.”

“You’re such a jackass.”

“Jackass! Yes, that’s a good word.”

Jiang Cheng sighs and gets off his stool. He tosses cash down on the bar, though Wei Ying tries to wave him off.

“Oh, you’re going to want to get a flag up in here,” he says, off-hand as he turns to go. 

Wei Ying freezes. “Excuse me?”

“Coming down from on high, it’s going to be a new ordinance. To keep the liquor license.”

“The fuck does a flag have to do with our liquor license?”

Jiang Cheng holds up his hands. “I’m just the messenger.”

“I’m not letting the Sunshot flag through these doors.”

Jiang Cheng turns back to him, serious. “Look, I know you have your own . . . feelings—”

“Feelings?” he almost spits, spreading his hands out on the bar.

Jiang Cheng winces and does not look at them. “You have your reasons, I’m not arguing that. But Yiling’s a part of the Republic and people need to get used to it. You don’t have to like it, but your district rep is going to announce the policy in the next week, and I don’t want to see you— Don’t go out of your way to make life difficult, all right? It’s hard enough already.”

Wei Ying says nothing, just leans back and watches the rag twist and untwist between his hands.

“See you Saturday,” Jiang Cheng offers, hesitates, then leaves.

Wei Ying will close up. They close early, still, kick everyone out before midnight. Old habits. He’ll go home and work on his column, the one corner of the paper Wen Qing leaves for whatever he wants. (Literally, the column is called “Whatever.”) Maybe A-Qing will find a pay phone and call him, if she hasn’t spent or hidden the change, or maybe she’ll just show up and lean on the buzzer until he lets her in. He’ll sleep better, if she’s there. He was never meant to live alone.

And he’ll wake up tomorrow, and try to do it all again.

Part Two

[fallingappleshurt]

Secrets To Save You

~~chapter description because I forgot last time~~~

Tubbo is dying and his only hope is Techno getting supplies for a healing potion in the Nether

Eyyyy bad description but I did chapter two eyyyy and I bet the docs formatting got messed up eyyyy

TW: Swearing but nothing to bad

Chapter 2: Into Fire

Techno always found the fourth ring to be somewhat depressing, it was dirty and broken, the sidewalks and roads eventually morphed into dusty gravel then dirt. The houses were small and in shabbley, garbage and junk crowded parts of the road and the fence that was supposed to separate the rings from the forest had kinks and rips in the mesh. Nature still managed to push through, bushes hiding yards from view, flower pots on window sills.

Even with the fence keeping the forest out there were actual trees in the fourth ring, some leaned over the fence, vines creating cover along the edge. The people seemed happy at least, he passed a rinky treehouse, filled with shrieks and giggles. An open nearby window let a soft melody drift out into the street.

He would have appreciated it more if his head didn’t feel like it was about to explode as he rushed down the street

Skeppy lived in a little scrappy house, one of the windows was busted and the door creaks every time it’s touched but it was a good cover for what was underneath. Skeppy had hollowed out a huge space underneath that was hidden by chests, it was basically a secret basement. It had mini farms and stolen goods, Skeppy was good with his hand and could make just about anything. He’s been running a racket.

Techno knocked lightly on the door, he heard shuffling inside then the door squeaked open and Skeppy poked his head out, he had redstone dust against his cheeks.

“Who- Oh hey Techno, what’s up?”

“I need help,”

“Never a dull moment with you, what do you need?”

“I need to go to the Nether.” Skeppy raised an eyebrow.

“Why?”

“Did you hear about the attack in the second ring?” Techno asked, Skeppy nodded, “My little brother’s friend got withering poison and I need to get potion supplies.”

Skeppy’s face dropped, he opened the door all the way, “Come inside,” Techno stepped inside and found himself sitting at Skeppy’s shitty table, tapping his fingers nervously along the scratched wood.

“What all do you need?” Skeppy asked, digging through one of the chests along his wall.

“Nether wart, blaze rods, and blaze powder,” Techno listed off, hoping the Captain hadn’t forgotten anything.

“I only have nether wart,” Skeppy said.

“Do you know of anywhere else I could get it?”

“Without stealing or for a reasonable price? No, sorry man.”

Techno groaned, jamming a hand in his hair, “I need to get this stuff, Tubbo’s life depends on it.”

“I still might have something that could help- would you be willing to go to the nether?”

Techno blinked, would he? He wanted to help Tubbo but there he had only read about the Nether and it’s creatures years ago, a hellish, hot, burning landscape with danger at every turn. The mobs were loud and explosive, some could fly and shoot fire, or that could actively hide and breathe in lava. He didn’t want to go in there, he had no idea how to handle, even with all of his training.

Then he remembered Tommy.

He remembered that Tommy was going to lose his best friend if he didn’t do this. Tubbo had his whole life ahead of him, he was a smart kid and Techno knew he’d go far and do great things, both of them would. Those two had been side by side for years, they were a part of each other. It was never just Tommy or Tubbo, it was Tommy and Tubbo.

He couldn’t do that to them.

‘You could die!’’ The other side of him reasoned, he shoved it aside. He had to do this, for Tommy and Tubbo.

“Yes,” He rasped, Skeppy grinned then walked over to his mattress, pulling a bag out from underneath it. He tossed it at Techno, who dumped it’s contents onto the table, papers and pens scattering everywhere. He grabbed one of the folded pieces and opened it, revealing a detailed map with bullet points along the side and in the margins.

“If you’d let me explain before dumping all of my stuff everywhere, these are maps around the Nether, one to get a portal I have in the woods, one on how to get to different regions of the Nether and notes on what to do or avoid. Do you know how to navigate the Nether?”

“Not in the slightest,”

Skeppy laughed, “You’re so bad-”

“Just tell me what to do-”

“Let me talk, so when you first get in there don’t step on anything that glows, it’ll either burn you or break. Just try and stay anyways from any mobs, you’ll see a lot of these pig things but as long as you have something that looks like gold on you then you should be fine.” Skeppy shoved the papers around until he found a yellow pin.

“Wear that on your shirt and they should leave you alone. For the rest of it, just follow the map and try not to get set on fire.”

“What about the fortress?”

“I’ve been in the fortress once before and it was absolutely terrifying, the blazes had these weird sticks that fly all around them and they will spit fire at you so watch out, they usually are in their own little boxy areas. The only real advice I have is try not to get set on fire.” Skeppy said, shrugging. Techno sighed, shoving the papers back into the bag.

“Thank you-”

“Oh, you’ll need this for the portal, to start it up,” He handed Techno a piece of metal and flint, tied together, Techno pocketed it.

“Thank you-”

“It’s whatever- oh wait let me grab the nether wart,” Skeppy jumped up, pushing one of his chests to the side, climbing down a rusty ladder as Techno continued to clean up the maps. Skeppy emerged from the gap and tossed a small pouch at him.

“There you go,” He paused, “Good luck, and you know the drill, you never got that stuff from me.” Skeppy grinned, Techno snorted, shouldering the bag and opening the door.

“Of course, I’ve just met you, it’s Skippy right?”

“Haha, very funny-”

“Later Skippy-”

“Techno-” Skeppy’s retort was cut off by Techno closing the door. He didn’t know much about the Nether but he knew he needed a weapon so he headed back to the apartment to get his sword. The walk back was uneventful though there seemed to be less people, and guards milling about. Techno chalked it up to the commotion in the second ring.

Coming into his neighborhood, he climbed up the rusty stairs to their apartment and opened the door. Inside Wilbur and Tommy were passed out on the couch, a bandaid was on Tommy’s cheek and he didn’t see Phil anywhere, the coast was clear.

Techno slipped into his and Phil’s room, putting the bag of nether wart under his mattress, he grabbed his sword from under his bed. Running his fingers along the sheath to clear the dust then adjusted it to his belt.

“Where are you going?”

Techno turned and saw Phil in the doorway, he froze. He couldn’t tell Phil he was trying to sneak into the Nether, he didn’t even like Techno going to the duels so him walking into what was essentially hell would have been a no go.

“Tommy told me what happened, is this for Tubbo?”

Techno nodded, he didn’t like lying to Phil but he didn’t want to worry him either, well, more then he already did.

Phil sighed, “You aren’t gonna be able to earn enough money for hospital care in one night,”

Techno blinked, realizing he had an out, he didn’t have to tell Phil what he was doing, not directly, just tell him that he was going to help Tubbo.

He swallowed, “I can try,”

Phil looked down, after a moment he said, “Be careful, okay?”

Techno nodded, he stepped forwards and placed a hand on Phil’s shoulder, Phil put his hand on top of Techno’s. “Of course.” Then as quietly as possible, he walked out of their apartment and back towards the fourth ring, dodging the few guards and walking along the fence until he found a big enough opening.

He had only been in the forest once before when he was younger and it had not gone well. He shuddered and pushed away the memories, pulling out the map of the forest, and started in.

The edge of the forest had garbage and junk littered around, a few animals poking at it or climbing on the bits of metal sticking out of the dirt. Further in however the garbage started to recede and foliage looked more lush, the tree rustled as squirrels ran along the branches.

Techno pushed vines out of the way looking at the trees for Skeppy’s landmark, at the heart carved into the roots, turn left and keep going until you reach the mountain. He scanned the surrounding trees, hoping to see the mark but coming up short. He walked further, stepping over roots and flowers, trying not to disturb the foliage. It wasn’t night yet but if monsters were nearby then he didn’t want to alert them.

Techno wandered a bit further until he looked down and saw a little heart carved into the root of a sycamore tree, after checking the directions again he turned left and continued on. The terrain started to get rockier and steeper, tree roots bent out and tangled and more noticeable then ever. The dirt changed into stone as he approached a small craggly mountain, checking over the map again he couldn’t find any other directions besides ‘look for the cave thing- you know what you mean’.

Of course Skeppy would write something like that.

Techno looked up and down the mountain, trying to see if there were any openings or caves when he spotted one halfway to the peak, groaning, he started up the cliff side, not bothering to avoid any plants in his path this time.

This turned out to be a bad idea because he stepped on a patch of leaves and vines and immediately fell into a hole. He lay flat on the ground for a moment, contemplating his life.

After he finished his internal scream fest he pushed himself to his feet to try and find a way out of this stupid hole, only to look up and see an inky wine colored arch in the wall and a nearby chest covered in dust.

Yeah this seemed like something Skeppy would make.

Techno got up, dusted himself off, then checked the chest, finding it was empty besides a thing of rope which he left alone. He pulled out the flint and steel and spent the better part of ten minutes trying to light the damn portal before finally getting a solid spark.

The portal shook then violet tendrils crept from the edges and twinged together. The portal swirled loudly and Techno threw himself in before he could change his mind.

He stumbled into what he could only define as literal hell.

The air was hot and somewhat sticky, everything was either bright orange or a dark red. Monsters shuffled around, grunting and groaning, a high pitched wail sounded in the distance. Lava dripped from the ceiling and pooled into sluggishly moving puddles, he could feel it’s heat even though he was a safe distance away.

He wanted to get out of there as soon as possible, digging through his bag he found the nether map and started jogging deeper into the rough red realm.

Techno followed Skeppy’s landmarks, a really gross looking blue tree, a deep hole that led directly to a lava pit, and avoided a very dark and foggy biome then continued straight.

He was starting to give up hope when finally he saw a large dark brick structure over a sea of lava, he looked around and saw the path Skeppy used to get to it. A little tunnel in the rock that led to a part of the fortress that was stuck in the wall.

He hopped onto the top of the structure and immediately felt uneasy, like someone was watching him. He walked along the top until he found an opening and climbed in, drawing his sword, the halls were empty but you could never be too careful.

Techno wandered down the hall until it opened into what seemed like a courtyard of sorts. Broken and rotted creatures walked along the railings of the fortress, unbothered by his presence. A breathy hiss drew is attention, a blaze, or what he thought was, hissed at him.

The blaze chucked a fireball at him, he dodged back then ran forwards, slashing at the monster. He caught it once before it flew up, screeching, Techno dodged another attack and swung in an arch, clipping the blaze. It howled again before bursting into smoke, dropping two merigold rods on the brick.

Techno shoved them into his bag, not sure on how many to get, on one hand he wanted to leave but if it wasn’t enough then the whole trip would have been pointless and they would lose Tubbo.

A breathy hiss made the decision for him as he ducked away from a fireball, then charged at the approaching monster, it was better to over prepare then under prepare.

Techno fell into a rhythm of sorts, slashing, stabbing, and dodging. The thing about the duels was that they made him feel alive but also dull, it was the same thing almost every time; some dumbass with a cocky attitude and little to no sword skills, it was easy.

Fighting the blazes was different, they were unpredictable- chaotic, deadly.

They didn’t have any rules to play by, only going on pure instinct, not bothering to try and banter to entertain an audience. It was new, fresh, dangerous, he got used to the fire just barely licking at his skin. It got his heart pounding and lungs aching- it was almost fun.

After what felt like seconds but had to have been at least an hour he had 14 blaze rods. He shoved them into his bag then ditched the fortress, rushing back out the way he came. He ran until he reached the blue biome again and stopped to break.

While waiting he saw a lanky black figure standing by one of the trees, he squinted at it. It looked familiar, Techno knew he had read about it before but he couldn’t place his finger on it.

Then the figure started screeching and ran at him. Techno jumped then lashed out and got a solid blow but was thrown back against a tree, shaking his head he slashed the creature across the chest then stabbed it. It’s jaw unhinged, it howled, staring at him with wide purple eyes then disappearing in a puff of smoke, leaving behind a blue ball.

Techno picked up the ball, looking it over, after realizing he didn’t know what it was and therefore probably had no use to him, he chucked it behind him and started back towards the portal.

Only to be farther back then before, he yelped, looking around frantically. What the hell just happened?

Then it hit him. He remembered reading about Endermen and their strange relationships and reactions to humans. He also remembered Tommy telling him about these weird, rare blue balls that they dropped that could teleport you if you threw them; he had learned about it in school and wouldn’t stop talking about it for a week.

He realized those could be pretty useful, especially in the Nether, then set out to look for more of the lanky creatures. After about an hour he had fought multiple but only managed to get three pearls but that was still better then nothing. He slipped them into a pouch on his belt and continued back to the portal.

Once out of the Nether, after getting over the wave of nausea, he used the rope in the chest and climbed out of the hole. After sloppily covering it up he ran back through the forest, to the rings. The moon was starting to dip towards the trees and he realized he had been in there all night and that would make the trade off harder but Techno still had time.

He climbed back through the hole in the fence and headed towards the Captains house, cutting through yards and possibly trampling a few flowers and other things. He made a pit stop at his apartment to grab the Nether wart and dropped off his sword. He ran to the edge of the second ring and skidded to a halt outside the house.

Techno knocked, quietly but quickly, until a scruffy looking Captain opened the door.

“Techno?” He asked, “What are you doing here-”

“Let me in, I got the stuff,” Techno said, pushing his way in, the Captain closed the door.

“What stuff?”

“The potion supplies,” Techno set his bag down on the table, the Captain’s eyes widened.

“Wait you actually got it? How?”

“Don’t ask questions you aren’t prepared to hear the answers too, just take them.” Techno set the pouch of nether wart on the table then proceeded to dump out all of the blaze rods.

The Captain didn’t move, he stood there staring at the materials.

“You got everything else?”

The Captain nodded and Techno smiled, heading towards the door, he was exhausted.

“Good to know, I hope to see Tubbo soon.” Then he left, closing the door, heading back home, where he drank half of his body weight in water then collapsed into bed.

He hadn’t heard much from anyone in Tubbo’s family for three days. Everyday Tommy would come home from school and report that Tubbo was still missing. Techno would bite his lip and hope that the Captain would be able to make the potion. He had avoided stopping by to cause less suspicion.

On the fourth day, a Saturday, someone knocked on the door. Tommy was in his room, Phil was reading in the living room, and Wilbur refused to get off the couch so Techno answered the door.

Tubbo stood there, looking up at him holding a plate of cookies and a folded note.

“Oh! Hey Techno! These are for you guys, they are from my mom!” Tubbo said, pushing the plate closer, “And the note is for you, from my dad.” He added quietly, “Said it’s a secret.”

Techno took the plate, smiling softly, after finally finding his voice; “Thank you, come on in for a minute.” And pulled Tubbo inside. He set the plate down and pocketed the note.

“Hey Tommy, come here for a second!”

“What is it?”

“Just come here!”

Tommy’s door opened and he stepped out, “What’s the big idea-” He trailed off upon seeing Tubbo, who waved.

Tommy stood there, in shock before launching himself across the room and bowling into the other boy, shrieking.

“Tubbo! You’re okay!” He said, wrapping his arms around the other.

“Yeah!”

Wilbur got up from the couch and Phil followed to greet Tubbo, ruffling his hair, and telling him they were so happy he was okay.

After the room had settled, Tommy immediately drug Tubbo into his room, asking him what the poison was like. Phil warned Tommy to be careful in case Tubbo was still healing and Wilbur warned Tommy to not touch any of his stuff.

Techno stepped away and looked at the note.

‘Please bring Tubbo home tonight then talk to me- Captain’

The vagueness of the note made his stomach turn, the whole rest of the day Techno worried about stupid things like ‘what if the potion only worked temporarily and Tubbo was still in danger? What if a guard saw him doing all the very illegal actions he did last night? What if Sparkles reported him?’

When Tubbo said he had to get going, Techno offered to walk him back, then still proceeded to worry the whole rest of the way there.

He followed Tubbo inside his house when the Captain pulled him into the kitchen and gave him a hug.

Techno stood shocked, blinking, before awkwardly returning it. The Captain had never really seemed to like Techno, he was never mean, just always seemed on edge. The Captain pulled away, eyes shining.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” He said, “You saved my son's life, without that potion he would have died- thank you.”

“It was no problem,” Techno said, scratching the back of his neck nervously, “I care about the kid a lot and he helps keep Tommy out of trouble, so it was the least I could do.”

“The least- oh nevermind, I still want to thank you for risking your life for him and ask you a question.”

Techno nodded hesiatinely.

“Does anyone else know about what you did?”

“Just one other person, but trust me he won’t tell anyone.”

“Okay, I had an idea, potions are in high demand so I was wondering if you wanted to do a little back alley selling,”

Techno raised an eyebrow, “How so?”

“You would get the ingredients, I would make the potions and sell them off then we would split the money. And I know that we aren’t that close but this could help both of our families, if you are willing to.” The Captain offered his hand

Techno considered it, “I don’t want to be doing any of the hand offs-”

“No that would be all me, all you have to get is gather the ingredients!” He assured, Techno sighed then took the Captain’s hand.

“It’s a deal.”

[chaotic-wanda]

Don’t Let Me Know

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Prompt: “Can I hug you?” “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” “Please?”

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: angsty angst, little bit of fluff, maybe on curse?

A/N: This is for @aesthetical-bucky​ 1K Writing Challenge! It’s also based off the song “Don’t Let Me Know” from SMASH which I’ve been rewatching a lot in quarantine. It’s not my best work but hey, practice is what makes you better 🤷🏻‍♀️A million thanks to @film-enthusiastt​ for reading over it for me, you’re the best! Constructive criticism is welcomed. Hope y’all enjoy! 

Soft music played in the dimly lit bar as Y/N sipped on her whiskey. The burn of it sliding down her throat started to make her feel numb. She doesn’t know why she agreed to this, why she keeps agreeing to this. After all, Bucky was the one to break things off, claiming the spark had just died between them. So why did she meet him every time he came calling when something was wrong? Even now as she was waiting for him, he was a half hour late. Finishing her third drink of the night, she motioned for another to the bartender before checking her messages. Nothing. Y/N knows she can’t keep doing this, but holding onto him is all that she can do until she finally learns the hands around her throat, the reason for all this torture, are her own. 

Another hour passed and still with no sign of Bucky. She lets out a heavy sigh, admitting defeat before she asks for her check. The weight of her own self hatred drowning her along with the copious amount of drinks the night brought. Hatred for being so pathetic over someone who treated her so poorly. Quickly wiping at her eyes before anyone could notice, she grabbed her things to leave. She mumbled a quiet thanks before striding towards the door. 

Y/N shrugged on her jacket before she stepped out in the chilly air. As she started walking home, she pulled out her phone to call her best friend. She seemed to always know what to say in these situations. After tapping on Wanda’s name, she lifted the phone to her ear as it rang. Once. Twice. Three times.

It wasn’t until the fourth ring that she answered, “He stood you up again didn’t he?” It amazed Y/N how Wanda always seemed to know what was happening. She gnawed on her lower lip as she tried to think of a response without showing her true emotions about the night. Sighing into the phone, Wanda spoke again, “You can’t keep doing this to yourself, Y/N. I might not be able to see you right now but your silence speaks louder than anything else.”

Y/N laughed bitterly before responding, “Sadly my brain knows that, I just need to get my heart on board as well.” She kicked a rock along the sidewalk as she slowly made her way home. “I don’t know why I constantly continue to do this. It just hurts, but I don’t know how to let go, yanno?” She paused from walking for a moment to take a deep breath, “I wish he had done something unforgivable that way it would be easier to cut him off. But he was so nice about it and I guess I keep hoping the spark will reignite. Instead he just keeps hurting me and I keep letting him.”

Wanda’s heart broke for her friend but she didn’t know how else she could help. With encouraging words, she kept telling Y/N it would get better but it would just take time. Y/N agreed with a sigh before calling it a night and telling her friend goodbye. 

Hours later after making it home and washing the dried tear stains off her cheeks, she had finally made it to the point of exhaustion. She slowly pushed herself off the couch and was getting ready to throw away the bottle of wine she consumed when there was a rush of knocks at her door. She stared at her door for a few moments as if unsure if someone was actually at her door or if it was her imagination. Another burst of knocks at her door brought her back to her senses as she made her way over. 

She opened the door, wine bottle still in hand, to see Bucky leaning against her door frame. “Doll, I’m sorry but I can explain.” Y/N rolled her eyes and if she could without making a huge mess, she would have thrown the wine bottle at him. Instead she just opened the door wider and gestured for him to come in. He pushed himself off the door frame and hesitated before striding through the door. 

She closed the door behind him before harshly speaking, “You better make it quick because I’m done wasting my time on you Barnes.” He flinched at the sound of his last name, knowing that she only used it when she was livid. 

He sat on the chair next to her couch and gestured for her to take a seat. She begrudgingly did as she was asked but sat on the opposite end so he couldn’t reach out to touch her. The unspoken tension between them was suffocating, neither one wanting to break the silence. 

Bucky finally gave in after a few minutes, gulping down a breath before stuttering out, “It was real shitty of me to leave you hanging at the bar. I ran into this girl from SHIELD and we got to talking and I just lost a track of time. I’m really sorry, I honestly didn’t mean to leave you waiting.”

Y/N laughed bitterly while crossing her arms over her chest, something she always did when upset as if it would protect her from falling apart in the moment. Bucky knew the nervous tick very well. He’d seen a lot of it towards the end of their relationship. 

“You can release the death grip. I promise you’ll stay in one piece,” he jokingly spoke, trying to lighten the mood. Instead, she seemed to go stiff and crossed her arms tighter. 

He’d hit a nerve and before he could apologize she replied softly, “I wish you didn’t know me so damn well.” Her eyes seemed to look at everywhere but him. 

Everything in him was screaming to reach out for her but he couldn’t seem to move his body. All he could do was look at her and wish that she could read his mind. “Y/N, I really am sorry. Please don’t let this one mistake ruin our friendship.”

She jerked her head in his direction at that comment, staring at him with a coldness he’d never felt from her before. “We’re not friends Bucky, we’re exes who can’t seem to let go of each other,” she hissed between her teeth. She felt her blood boiling, feeling the frustration of the night build up. “You didn’t want to be with me anymore and I was too stupid to walk away. But I don’t want to be your friend that you turn to anymore. I can’t do it anymore,” the hot tears were slowly streaming down her face now as she let all the pent up anger off her chest. 

Bucky frowned and moved to sit next to her on the couch, his only goal to comfort her. However, she jumped up before he could and pulled away. “You always keep me at arms length, you won’t pull me close, which is fine now that we’re not together, but you can’t let go either.” 

He could feel his insides twisting, afraid of what would come out of her mouth next. “What are you saying, Y/N?” he stammered out. 

She looked at him with a heavy sadness, knowing what she had to do. “I’m saying that I’m done Bucky. I’m letting you go so that we can both move on.”

He quickly jumped out of his seat and rushed towards her. He grabbed her hands while desperately trying to change her mind, “You can’t do that. We work in the same building and we have the same friends. You can’t just not talk to me. And despite all that, you’re one of my best friends. Who am I supposed to go to when I’m having trouble?”

Looking down she shook her head as the tears kept coming, “I’m sorry, but I can’t be that for you anymore. I have to do what’s best for me at this point. I wish I never met you, cause now I gotta forget what life is like without you again” She slowly pulled her hands out of his and took a step back. “I think you should go. . . please.”

Bucky could feel his own tears fighting to make their way to the surface. “Can I at least hug you, one last time?” he choked out. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she responded before gnawing on her lip. She knew she’d fall apart if she was in his arms.

“Please?” he asked with desperation in his voice as he tried to keep the sobs at bay. 

Y/N seemed to really look at him for the first time since he had arrived that night, having an internal fight over the situation. She let out a huff before lightly nodding. Bucky took a step closer and enveloped her into his arms, clinging onto her as if she was his lifeline. They both knew this was goodbye.

It had been a month or so since she had decided to cut Bucky out from her life. She wouldn’t lie and say it had been easy. In fact, it was really hard. She found herself constantly wanting to send him a text when she saw a funny meme or to call him whenever she had a bad day. But, she did feel more free, as if she wasn’t holding onto him desperately. She knew it would take time but it was time she was willing to take the time she needed. 

Y/N had really thrown herself into work and into her platonic relationships. She knew she’d been a crappy friend to Wanda and Natasha in the past months but was working on making it up to them. The start was having weekly girls night on Thursdays. It was her turn to host and she rushed around to finish getting ready when she heard a knock at the door. 

Confused, she made her way over. It was at least a few hours before the girls were supposed to show up. She was floored by who was on the other side. The time hadn’t been kind to Bucky. His hair was disheveled, the bags under his eyes reached a new level of dark, and he looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks. She hadn’t seen him in this state since she first met him.

“Buck, what are you doing here?” she whispered out. Part of her wanted to pull him in and hold him tight but the other part of her was terrified that everything she had worked on would crumble if she did. 

He let out the best smile he could muster that didn’t quite reach his eyes, “I’m sorry. I know you don’t want to see me but I had to see you. I felt like I was going crazy.” He hesitated before looking back up at her, “Can I come in?”

She lightly nodded and stood to the side while he made his way inside. The deja vu of it all hit them both in full force. “I was just about to make some tea. Would you like some?” He nodded hoping the time it would take for her to make it would help calm his nerves and figure out exactly what to say. She came back a few minutes later and motioned for him to sit on the couch before handing him his mug. He smiled softly noticing it was his favorite mug of hers that he used whenever he came over. He rubbed his thumb over the chipped paint getting lost in the memories. Y/N slowly sat by him with her own mug in hand, tucking her feet under herself. “Are you ok Bucky? You don’t look so good,” she asked, the worry evident in her voice. 

He turned his head towards her before laying it back on the couch. He watched her for a few moments before finally answering, “I just miss you so much and I know I don’t have the right to, but I feel like a piece of me is missing. I just feel scared now that you’re not here.” He looked down, playing with the tea bag as he dunked it further into the water. 

She felt her chest tighten at his words. If he’d said this to her a month or so ago, she would have dropped everything for him. She so desperately wanted to be there for him but she knew she wasn’t at the place where she could support him and take care of herself yet. In a moment of weakness, she took his hand in hers and squeezed it. “I’m so sorry you feel this way and I wish I could make it better, I truly do.” He flinched knowing there was a but coming. She took a deep breath and exhaled before continuing, “But I can’t open up my heart to you again. It’s still trying to heal from the first time you shattered it. And that’s my fault because I let you keep doing it which shattered it more.”

 He squeezed her hand in an attempt to keep her close. Bucky still couldn’t bring himself to look at her as he mumbled out the next words, “I fucked up and I should have never let you go. I realize that now and I want to give us another shot if you do.” He slowly dragged his hope filled eyes to meet hers as if trying to read her thoughts. 

She gnawed on her lips and closed her eyes, trying to fight the tears back. Her actions spoke volumes to Bucky and he slowly let go of her hand. Moving to get up, the words rushed out of his mouth, “I shouldn’t have come here and dump this on you.”

Before he could run out, she jumped up, catching his arm, “Bucky, wait!” He turned to look at her, the pain clear on his face. “I want to be able to give you what you want, but it’s so hard. I’m not sure how to trust you with my heart now. If I had known there was a chance you could fall again, I would have told you to not let me know.”

He slowly moved his hand to cup her face and slowly pulled her closer, explaining “I’ve tried and I’ve failed to stop loving you for months now.” He drew her into his embrace and she slowly wrapped her arms around him. Neither of them are sure how long they were in that position, but both knew they didn’t want to let go. 

Her phone started to ring and Y/N grumbled as she begrudgingly separated herself from him. She sighed as she read the messages letting her know the girls were on the way, wanting to stay in this moment. Still, she knew if her and Bucky were ever going to stand a chance in the future, changes would need to be made and she didn’t want to backtrack on all the work she had done. 

Looking up at him, she gave Bucky a soft smile, “I really want nothing more than to stay in this bubble with you.” His smile grew at that before she kept going. “But it’s girls night and I’m hosting so we will have to resume this later. I won’t cancel on Natasha and Wanda.”

He nodded in understanding, “Maybe we could go for coffee or I could take you out for lunch tomorrow?” 

Her smile grew into a grin that stretched across her face, “Only if it’s that bistro I love. I haven’t been in so long. It reminded me too much of you.” He let out a laugh before agreeing. Y/N bit her lip and looked down as she played with her fingers, the nerves setting in. “If we do this, there has to be a lot of changes. I refuse to lose myself again.”

He hooked his finger under her chin, bringing her gaze to meet his, “I’ll do whatever it takes to make you happy, I swear.” He placed a quick kiss on her forehead and she looked at him with such delight. Even though there was still a lot of work to be done, they both had a feeling of hope for the first time in a long time. And sometimes hope is all you can ask for.

[musedbykitten]

Haru drabble

Disclaimer: this is about MY version of the character! This means he has DID (Dissociative Identity Disorder). In Black's thoughts, when he refers to "White" he's referring to the main personality, Haru. Also my Haru is still very good friends with Rin, but he has never dated her. He has always been in love with Yuki. This also relates to events I've done over discord, and while it was meant as a drabble, it can work as a starter as well if anyone else would like to partake.

Sitting on the floor, Haru was looking everywhere but at Akito. He never looked at Akito and if he did, it was always with those empty eyes. He wasn't sure where his mind went when he was in the room with Akito, but...he knew that it wasn't there. He always felt so empty and cold.

This was the person who had hurt Rin.

This was the person who had hurt Kisa.

This was the person who had destroyed Yuki's childhood.

And yet, he was sitting here, in the room while Akito leaned over and spoke to him. But he said nothing, until something Akito said broke through the noise.

"...I heard you want to break the curse." Akito's dark eyes glared at him, his face so close that Haru wondered how he had missed it. Abruptly, he felt something change within him. He was actually present now, in this room with Akito, and not somewhere far away watching his own body.

"...Where did you hear--"

"That's not important!" Akito shouted and shoved him back. He hit the wood floor, blinked the stars out of his eyes, and found himself looking up at an enraged Akito. "You...you're not allowed! You're not allowed to leave me! You're not! None of you are! You're /my/ zodiac! So why--why---"

And then he pulled back, coiling like a viper ready to snap. And he said something that made Haru's blood run cold.

"How should I punish you? Let me think."

A pause.

"...Maybe...I'll put Yuki back in that room. You've always loved Yuki, haven't you?"

There was a moment of disbelief, staring up at Akito's smirk while something akin to /panic/ rose in his chest, cold and heavy and then--

The change.

It was a subtle twitch of his lips that tipped it off, something most people wouldn't even notice. Akito didn't notice.

Until he was slammed against the floor, the younger man's hands wrapped around his throat.

"H--a....tsuharu--!"

"Don't you...dare say Yuki's name like you own him, you disgusting bastard-----!" His blood was pumping, the rage making static ring in his ears, making him see /red/. He could hear nothing else, feel nothing else, except the feeling of his own blood rushing through his veins and Akito's pulse beneath his fingertips.

He squeezed harder. Akito started to choke, but he didn't stop.

"I'll...I'll fucking kill you....don't you DARE EVER EVEN THINK ABOUT HURTING HIM AGAIN. I'LL KILL YOU. I'LL KILL YOU."

And then there was someone trying to pry him off of Akito, but it took a solid minute for him to realize it was Kureno. Once his fingers left Akito's throat--he cursed.

He'd snapped. Again.

Black had snapped and "White" was going to pay for it. White was going to be hurt, White was going to be punished.

/No, No No!/

In a moment of clarity, he turned and punched down the nearest wooden beam, separating him and Kureno before dashing out the door and leaping through a window out of the estate. He didn't even realize that Akito had stabbed him until he was halfway across the city, dizzy, blood streaming behind him and two police officers knocked out on the sidewalk.

"Shitty bastard---should have killed him," he growled, "should have killed--"

And then blood left his lips and he paused against a tree, coughing as pain racked his form.

"...My body...what's..."

It felt like something inside of him was /clawing/ at his innards, like every single organ in his body was shutting down. The pain was unbearable. He didn't even realize he'd stumbled into the woods until he was on the ground, screaming while clutching his head, which felt like it was going to burst.

"D-Damn it...I can't...I can't let him...feel this pain..."

It was the reason he was created in the first place. To protect that fragile mind...to keep it from fracturing under the anger and hatred and pain.

"I'll carry it..." He collapsed in the dirt, fingers digging into the soil as he muttered madly to himself. "I'll carry it all...so please...don't hurt him. Don't hurt "White"."

And so he bore it all.

Bore it for days.

Bore it until the alter personality's pain tolerance could take no more and and abruptly "White" was in control again, confused and lost. He wouldn't even remember, but that was fine.

Black had done his job.

[underoossss]

Dancing Under the Rain - H.O

PROLOGUE

pairing: detective!Harrison x female reader

warnings: might be angsty at times, mentions of death, murder investigations

AN: this story wouldn't let me sleep until I started writing down all my ideas (although in no specific order at first). There will be a time skips sometimes, but I’ll label them so its not confusing. I hope you guys like it, I’m always very self conscious about everything I write (even schoolwork) so I feel like im sharing a bit of myself with you here. Let me know if you enjoyed it. Thank you to Marcia who made this moldboard for me a while ago!💖

--- 

Over the years you have learned the pros and cons of living in a small town.

The pros:

You can escape from your previous life, from anything that hurt you and start over. No one knows who you are or the past that seems to sometimes follow you like a shadow sometimes. It’s a fresh start and 4 years ago, that was exactly what you needed.

That’s how you ended up in Dewitt, three hours away from Cambridge where everywhere you went people look at you with pity in their eyes. It’s as if losing your brother hadn’t been enough, no, people had to remind you with every look and every how are you? What were you even supposed to say? Devastated would only make people worried and okay made them believe you’re lying to them. Either way you felt like shit, there wasn’t a place you could go that didn’t remind you of him so you did what anyone else would do. Pack up your things and move to a remote town close to the sea where no one knew you.

The cons:

People talk. A lot.

Not that people aren’t nice, they are, well most of them. However, that doesn’t make them any less nosy or gets rid the river of gossip that inevitably flows when something different from the routine happens. You expected it going in, if word got around in Cambridge then it would certainly get around in Dewitt. Therefore you kept quiet about any personal details or stories, to them you were the psychology professor that owns the bookshop/café in Harold street. You drive up to Cambridge twice a week to lecture your students and Skype any of them who need office hours. During the summers you give online classes and put pastel blue tables outside your store for people to read or talk. To everyone there you were the nice young lady who makes some really nice coffee, who is always smiling and who tutors whoever needs help in science or English lit. Gossip is a plague though, one that no one can escape so that’s how find out a detective has moved into town. Richard Mensen has gone missing and it’s been a week since his family, or anyone else saw him. The local authorities haven’t gotten anywhere so they sent someone else to help.

You walk to the entrance of the bookstore and glance at the police station as a man steps out of a car and walks inside. Harrison Osterfield, the detective from London who you can tell already walks with a massive weight on his shoulders.

-----

Everyone is looking, there are cameras and reporters and Harrison just wants to go home. Eight and a half months after arriving to Dewitt, the case was finally solved. Richard Mensen was dead, that they discovered three weeks after arriving. The next eight months that followed were about finding out who did it, why they’d done it and convicting them for ruining a family’s life. They were also full of judgement, Harrison should be used to it by now, but he’s not. His palms sweat and his heart beats too fast under the attention of everyone in the town, every look of disappointment they had sent his way for taking so long.

You do it, Harrison wanted to say, go and solve it if it’s that easy. He puts on a neutral face, his mask, and tries not to give away how terrified he is of fucking up someone else’s life because of his shortcomings. He hasn’t so far, but he lived in fear of it happening. It’s brought him sleepless nights trying to figure cases out, cost him relationships and his confidence. He is sure of one thing though, they got the right guy convicted and now he can go to his little house in the outskirts of town and sleep for ten days.

“The case has been closed, the killer was sentenced to life in prison around thirty minutes ago. We kindly request the press to let the affected family rest and finally deal with their grief at this time. The people of Dewitt can be in peace now, we consider this case to be an anomaly in the otherwise safe community they live in. That’s all I have to say.”

Harrison steps aside and leaves the reporters standing outside of the station as he takes off his tie and shoves it in the pocket of his navy blue suit. The cool spring breeze pushes his hair back as he walks along the sidewalk by the many stores in Harold street. He takes a deep breath, feeling the tension leave his shoulders and smelling freshly ground coffee. Your bookshop is right ahead, the red flowers by the window blooming beautifully under the spring sun and contrasting with the pale yellow of the storefront. Harrison checks his watch, 2:30pm, it’s a bit too late for a coffee but he didn’t drink his usual one this morning and he’d be dammed if he doesn’t take this excuse to see you.

You’re sitting on a table by a bookshelf when he steps into the shop, there’s some papers in front of you, a cup of tea far away from them and what looks like a blueberry muffin by your right hand. You’re focused on what’s in front of you while you take a piece of the muffin with a fork and bring it to your mouth. Setting down the fork, you chew on the pastry as you grab a pen and scribble something on one of the papers. It’s only when someone clears their throat behind him that he realizes he’s been leaning on the doorway and staring at you for more than a couple of minutes.

His ears feel like they’re burning when he steps into the shop to let the other person in. He mumbles a quick sorry and walks towards the register where the drink menu was displayed.

“Detective Osterfield.” You smile, standing up when you notice him come into the bookshop. “How was court?”

“Please, Y/N, call me Harrison.” He feels himself smile as he shakes his head. “Court went well, he got a sentence and the case is close.”

“That’s good. I bet you’re looking forward to rest for a while.” You walk around the register and move to the expresso machine. “Your usual?”

“No, umm, if I drink coffee right now I won’t sleep and I really need a nap.” He scratches the back of his neck. Why is he always so nervous, he’s seen crime scenes and blood but he can’t talk to you without feeling like a teenager. “But maybe one of those chocolate cookies you’ve got there.”

“Oh! I’m sorry if I’m keeping you then, let me get that cookie for you.” You push your hair behind your ear as you grab a small paper bag and use a napkin to pick a cookie from the jar. “Here you go.”

Harrison can’t help but return the smile you give him and moves to take his wallet from his jacket. “No, you’re fine don’t worry. How much to I owe you?”

“Oh, forget about that.” You chuckle, smoothing the white blouse you are wearing. “Take it as a thank you for making our town safer.”

Harrison’s ears burn once more, “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it.” You shrug, suddenly looking shy. “Are you, umm, staying in Dewitt? With the case being closed and all?”

Harrison hadn’t even thought about leaving, this town had become part of his routine and he dared say he’s grown fond of it. Not to mention he’d grown fond you. “Yeah, I’m staying.”

“Good, great that’s nice.” You smile. “Would you like to take a walk down to the beach someday? It’s okay if you say no, don’t feel like you have to say yes because of the cookie, it’s not a bribe or anything I just-“

“Y/N.” Harrison stops your rambling stepping towards you. His heart is beating a mile a minute, you just asked him out. The broody shitty detective that takes eight months to figure out a case. He’s the luckiest shitty detective there is. “I’d love that.” He says, taking your hand.

“Really?” You smile, his eyes meet yours and he’s surprised to see his own. Eyes that smile but not all the way, eyes that are hiding something painful that’s locked away in your heart.

“Yeah.” He smiles back, squeezing your hand with his before stepping back. “We can go whenever you want, just let me know.”

Let me get to know you, he thinks. And when you nod your head and smile at him again he is almost certain that you will. It could take time, but he’s willing to wait until the moment you decide you will.

----

Let me know your thoughts! ✨

chapter 1 - chapter 2