#i want to call him maestro or something in that fit

[yappacadaver]

am i in some sort of minority for really loving em's starting outfit

[fairyniceyeah]

💎🐈‍⬛ I’ll always be with you

Title from MAESTRO (SEVENTEEN)

Summary: After everything went wrong on the flight to LA, Seungcheol just wants to sleep. But a call from a very sick Wonwoo shatters his plans.

CW: emeto

Sickie: Wonwoo Caretaker: Seungcheol

Seungcheol threw his phone on the hotel bed and let himself collapse face first onto it as well. With a groan he buried his face in his pillow and swore the next person that wanted something - anything - from him would get a few choice words about sleeping cycles. Even after all those years time zones confused him a bit but he was sure that three at night was a terrible time to be awake whatever place you were.

They had finally arrived in America after a five-hour delay in Incheon, a missed transfer in Tokyo and another two-hours of delay - only to find out that all their bags were somehow in Lagos instead of Los Angeles. Apparently LOS and LAS were too confusing for the people loading the airplanes. 

They had argued with the person at the info point at the airport until they found out the truth and at which point Seungcheol had known they needed to buy a lot of new clothes. All their stage outfits were … not there. Neither were their casual clothes. So he had sent Mingyu, Vernon and Seungkwan to go shopping for everybody. Jihoon had only stopped whining about his lost guitar when Joshua had timidly admitted that he may have put all his prescription migraine medications into his suitcase. Which was now on the opposite site of the world. So Joshua and a manager had tried to find a way to get his medication just in case, after finding out that all the medication he had left with his family, which would have been such an easy solution, was way expired.

So, truth be told, Seungcheol just wanted to sleep. Preferably until the managers had sorted all the problems out. At least they had the next day off to recuperate from the jetlag. Small mercies.

The leader was just contemplating the merits of just falling asleep without changing into sleep clothes or brushing his teeth over making himself get up one last time so he wouldn’t feel disgusting in the morning, when his phone rang.

He could just let it ring, right?

Members could figure their own shit out.

The managers even got paid for that.

But Seungcheol also wasn’t an asshole and he was the leader.

So he accepted the call and put it on speaker without looking at the caller ID.

“Yo?”, he greeted, hoping his voice told the other person that he was in no mood to deal with slightly inopportune problems. 

Of all the people calling the leader he hadn’t expected him.

“Hyung?”, Wonwoo asked, his voice confused but also with an undertone that Seungcheol couldn’t place.

At once all his annoyance slipped away. Wonwoo had that effect on people, especially his hyungs. Well, it wasn’t like them to deny their dongsaeng anything - Wonwoo only spoke up when he really really wanted something so to get a call out of nothing was a bit disconcerting.

“Wonwoo-yah, what’s up?”

“I’m really sorry to disturb you”, Wonwoo mumbled and hesitated.

When he didn’t continue speaking, Seungcheol started to get confused. What was up with the younger rapper?

“Won…”, Seungcheol started at the same time as Wonwoo continued.

“I threw up.”

Seungcheol froze with the rest of his question on his tongue. Great. This was great. There was nothing more Seungcheol wanted now than to look after a sick dongsaeng. Especially one who apparently had issues keeping his bodily fluids inside. 

But it was Wonwoo. 

His quiet, knowledgeable and strong dongsaeng, dependable till the end. And he was sick, in a strange country, in a strange city, in a strange hotel. Alone. 

It wasn’t like Seungcheol wouldn’t have dropped everything for the other members. Of course he would. 

But Wonwoo was the hyung line’s baby in a way. Seungcheol, Jeonghan and Joshua always made sure to pay attention to him so he would not get shoved to the back due to his quietness. He was frail in a way that didn’t fit his tall, broad body but inside there was deep hurt and the need for somebody to hold him every now and then. His past illnesses, his shyness, his grief - it was what made Wonwoo Wonwoo but it was also what made them his hyungs.

Seungcheol must have been a bit too quiet for a bit too long because he was torn out of his thoughts by Wonwoo sounding very apologetic and, despite trying to hide it, even more desperate.

“I’m sorry, I know you have a lot on your plate right now. I’ll be …”

“I’ll be there in a minute”, Seungcheol interrupted him, “don’t worry. What’s your room number again? 

“267”, Wonwoo mumbled, “I’m really sorry, hyung.”

Seungcheol was already up and moving when he said: “Don’t be sorry, Wonwoo-yah. You’re sick. It happens. Sure, it’s an inopportune time but when isn’t it, huh?”

264

265

Wonwoo didn’t reply, the only sounds coming over the speakers were deep, controlled breathing and rapid swallowing. He really sounded sick.

266

267

“Can you open your door for me?”, Seungcheol asked, “I’m here.”

“Yeah”, Wonwoo mumbled, swallowing again after he spoke. He sounded so incredibly nauseated that Seungcheol was a bit worried he would never make it to the door without puking on the floor. 

How long exactly had Wonwoo been feeling like this?

The door was unlocked and opened to the inside. Seungcheol took in the scene for a moment, his concern rising with everything he saw. 

Wonwoo’s glasses were nowhere to be found and his face was so pale it nearly blended in with the white of the wall he was leaning against as if he couldn’t even hold himself up without it - which was likely true. He was wearing sweatpants but no shirt, shivering despite the LA heat. Worst of all, he was clutching the tiny bathroom trash can to his chest, aligned with his chin just in case.

“Hyung…”, he gasped out, the sound ringing double over the phones, breaking off his sentence to retch harshly, a bit of bile spilling from his mouth into the makeshift bucket. Absently Seungcheol ended the call and took a big step towards his dongsaeng. He gently grabbed Wonwoo’s shoulder and steered him further inside the room, kicking the door shut with his foot.

Luckily the bathroom was directly next to the entrance area and with Seungchol's hand on his back, Wonwoo stumbled inside, crashing to his knees in front of the toilet. The leader carefully took the trash can from his grasp, setting it aside. A curious and worried look revealed that Wonwoo had indeed thrown up a bit into it, a small amount of reddish vomit swirling on the bottom. There were some chunks of the pasta he had eaten earlier visible in it and with a sigh, Seungcheol pushed it far away to be dealt with later.

Wonwoo in the meantime had put both elbows on the toilet seat, holding his head over the water. His breathing was shallow as if he was trying not to throw up again. He probably was, considering how much he was trembling and swallowing on top of it all. 

Seungcheol gently rubbed circles on his back, not even caring about the sweat he felt stick to his hand. There was unusual heat radiating from his poor dongsaeng, leaving Seungcheol to worry about how high his fever was. A heave caused Wonwoo’s back to jerk forward with the force of it and another mouthful of vomit splashed into the water, closely followed by gags and a second and third wave. 

The younger was panting in between bouts, his breath hitching as if he was about to cry. Seungcheol couldn’t fault him for it - he’d probably do the same if he even felt close to how sick Wonwoo seemed. 

“Deep breaths”, he whispered into Wonwoo’s ear as another heave, this time at least dry, made Wonwoo whimper. “It’s okay. I got you.”

“‘m so nauseous, hyung”, Wonwoo whispered defeatedly, his voice raw from how badly his throat was probably torn from all the forceful, involuntary spasms. 

“I know, baby”, Seungcheol whispered, feeling more than a little helpless in the face of his dongsaeng’s misery. “Can you take a deep breath for me?”

Wonwoo nodded weakly and breathed in. With Seungcheol’s guidance he took a few more calming breaths before the leader asked: “Let’s lean back a bit now, okay?” 

The younger nodded again, though this time even more reluctantly than before. Seungcheol carefully helped him scoot backwards and propped him up against the bathtub, grabbing a towel from the rack to fold a little pillow for him. Wonwoo let him do as he pleased but he nervously eyed the toilet.

“If you need to be sick again, the bathtub will be cleaned easily enough”, Seungcheol assured but made it his most important task to get the fearful look out of his member’s eyes. After gently brushing Wonwoo’s hair behind his ear, giving him just a moment of adoration and comfort, Seungcheol stood up and grabbed the trash can from earlier. 

He winced as he now for the first time noticed Wonwoo’s abandoned hoodie laying underneath the sink, a splash of vomit on it. So that at least explained why the rapper was shirtless despite obviously freezing. Even if the circumstances were awkward, Seungcheol was glad that he was not cooking to death in it. His fever would only get higher with clothes like that. For now, however, cleaning the hoodie could wait. 

Seungcheol quickly emptied the contents of the trash can into the toilet, internally flinching at the disgusting sound, and flushed it away with whatever else Wonwoo had brought up. He stepped over to the other end of the bathtub and took the hose to wash off the remnants of sick in the can. Sufficiently cleaned for the time being, he knelt down next to Wonwoo and placed it by his side. Wonwoo immediately held onto it - not lifting it in his lap - but keeping a hold of it in case of emergency. 

“Let’s get you cleaned off, hm?”, Seungcheol muttered, not expecting an answer from the drained rapper and not receiving one either. He wetted one of the complimentary wash clothes with cold water and then went to sit cross-legged by Wonwoo’s side. 

Wonwoo had his other arm wrapped around his sour stomach and his head hung low, chin nearly on his chest. It seemed like he was even too exhausted to keep his head up.

“Hey, baby. Can you look at me?”

He didn’t wait for Wonwoo to respond, instead he cupped the younger’s face with one hand and lifted it up. Coming face to face with Wonwoo for the first time, Seungcheol noted the deep bags under his eyes and the way the dark obs looked far away. Tenderly Seungcheol wiped Wonwoo’s whole face, then took extra care to wipe away the dried bile in the corner of his mouth before moving down to clean and cool off Wonwoo’s chest. The moment the cold cloth touched his skin there, a violent shiver ran through Wonwoo’s body.

“Do you think you can try to drink something? Take some meds for that fever and the nausea?”

Wonwoo shook his head, a hiccough but luckily nothing more escaping him. “Feel too sick.”

“How long have you felt sick?”, Seungcheol asked. He was really starting to get worried about his dongsaeng’s health; the fever, the constant nausea and the forceful vomiting were all concerning.

Wonwoo swallowed before he answered quietly: “Didn’t feel well this morning but I hoped I could sleep it off during the flight. I was okay, most of the time, just not hungry. But when I laid down to sleep earlier, I nearly immediately threw up.”

Seungcheol nodded and abandoned the wash cloth to sit next to Wonwoo and wrap his arm around his shoulder, pulling the younger to lean against his shoulder. This morning - assuming this morning as in when he first woke up before the flight - was over twenty-four hours ago. He rubbed the younger’s upper arm a few times before continuing his questions.

“How do you feel now?”

“Nauseous. My stomach hurts. I thought I’d be empty and feeling better by now but I just feel worse.”

“You’re probably dehydrated, baby.”

“Hm. Been throwing up for nearly half an hour constantly before I managed to call you.”

Seungcheol felt his heart sink to his stomach hearing that his dongsaeng had been so sick alone for so long. There was nothing to be done about it now.

“Next time, tell somebody you feel sick before you throw up, okay?”, Seungcheol reminded him, “I know you wanna be strong but you have twelve people with you who care about you a lot. You didn’t have to be alone tonight.”

“We were all so stressed with the delays and then the bags…”, Wonwoo mumbled, “I didn’t want to make everything worse.”

“Your wellbeing matters more than some stress and bags, baby. We’re a team, a family. Most of the guys were just standing around waiting the whole day, it would have been no problem.”

Wonwoo didn’t respond, just turned his face so he was now completely buried in Seungcheol’s neck and twisted his body so that he was splayed over Seungcheol’s chest and lap. It was a cute sight, domestic in a way that Seungcheol had not expected. Like a sick child desperate to be closer to their parents. He held onto Wonwoo tightly, rubbing his spine up and down for a few minutes. 

Pressing a kiss against Wonwoo’s hair, the leader then asked: “Do you want to lie down? You seem done for now and sleep would do you good.”

“Too nauseous”, Wonwoo whispered, lifting his head and looking at Seungcheol with teary eyes. Briefly the older wondered how much Wonwoo actually could see of his face, considering Wonwoo’s terrible eyesight and the haze the tears would paint. But there was also so much trust in Wonwoo’s gaze, knowing he could depend on Seungcheol. Proudness welled up in Seungcheol’s chest.

“We can bring the bucket and put it by your side”, Seungcheol soothed. He would have done so anyways but it wasn’t what seemed to concern Wonwoo.

“No, I mean…” Wonwoo swallowed heavily. “... I get so nauseous when I lie down. That’s, uh, how the hoodie happened.”

That explained a lot. There was no way Seungcheol would make him lie down if it would make Wonwoo’s situation even worse. Right now his stomach seemed to be ready for a truce which they would not tempt.

Nevertheless, Wonwoo desperately needed sleep.

“Okay, let’s try something”, Seungcheol suggested and when he received the affirmation from his dongsaeng he helped Wonwoo move forward a bit, then slipped behind him so that Wonwoo was sitting between his legs. 

“Lean back”, he whispered and grabbed the abandoned towel to use as a makeshift pillow against his shoulder. Wonwoo, drained to the core, didn’t need to be told twice. He slumped back and his head nearly immediately lolled towards Seungcheol’s, Wonwoo deeply asleep. Seungcheol wrapped his arms around his shivering body and sighed.

He probably should have checked for a fever before Wonwoo fell asleep but he was not about to wake him up again.

It promised to be a long night.

💎

Seungcheol woke achy and sore to the sound of his phone ringing. He was a bit disorientated, his back and head hurting from the bad position he had slept in. He yawned and winced, then became very aware of the heavy weight leaning against him. Wonwoo. The younger had slipped down a bit in sleep, his head now more on Seungcheol’s chest than on his shoulder. 

He was still snoring slightly, totally undisturbed by the sound. 

Wanting it to stay that way, Seungcheol patted his pockets and accepted the call before even fully having moved it to his ear.

“... fucking door”, Jeonghan’s voice came through.

“Good morning, Hannie”, Seungcheol greeted, smiling a bit at his best friend’s antics. Jeonghan couldn’t see him, so doing it now wouldn’t bite him in the ass. “What can I do for you?”

“I’ve been knocking on your door the past ten minutes like an idiot. Open up”, Jeonghan demanded. 

“Why?”, Seungcheol asked, happy to tease him a bit. Deserved him right for the rude wake-up call.

“The manager wants to speak with you. There is an issue with the luggage and …”

“I’m not available to deal with the luggage. Tell the managers they have to figure it out themselves.”

“What do you mean ‘not available’? Open your door, mister. You know they will make me deal with it if you don’t.” Jeonghan sounded like he was whining. “Manager-hyung said I have about two minutes left to come back with you.”

Seungcheol laughed a bit, but the movement of his chest seemed to disturb Wonwoo, who shuffled a bit and sighed in sleep. Carefully, Seungcheol stroked his hair, hoping it would soothe him back to sleep. It did the trick.

“I would. However, I am not in my room”, Seungcheol replied.

That stopped Jeonghan’s tirade. 

“Well, now I feel even more like an idiot”, Jeonghan said after a moment, stunned. “Shua, stop laughing at me.”

“Shua, keep going”, Seungcheol edged the third 95-liner on, sure that Joshua could hear the whole exchange. He should have expected that Joshua would be trailing Jeonghan even that early in the morning. 

“Where are you?”, Joshua asked, coming closer to the speaker. He sounded curious and a bit tired. Seungcheol wondered if Jeonghan had woken him up too.

Seungcheol sighed. As much as he had enjoyed the banter, he could not ignore the situation. Wonwoo had not thrown up in the past - he checked the time on his phone, guesstimating when it had actually been that they had fallen asleep the last time - hour and a half and seemed to have been able to sleep well enough. He had been sick again a few times throughout the night and his fever had been seemingly steady. Still, he would probably need some time to recuperate - if he wasn’t still sick to his stomach and this was just a lull. 

“I’m with Wonwoo-yah”, Seungcheole explained, “he started vomiting earlier and called me. He’s asleep currently and I don’t know how his stomach feels but he is still feverish.”

“Shit”, Jeonghan exclaimed in surprise. “You could have started with that.”

“I could have”, Seungcheol agreed easily, “but I was rudely cursed at by somebody. Shua-yah, could you go and find some fever reducers and some tummy medication? Maybe some crackers and sport drinks? Hannie, I’m sure you’ll find a solution with the luggage.”

He hung up before he could hear Jeonghan’s reply.

💎

When Joshua knocked on the door about fifteen minutes later, Seungcheol had managed to extract himself from the sleeping Wonwoo. The younger had barely stirred when Seungcheol had moved him to lean against the bathtub again, placing the towel back under his head. The hoodie had been deemed a loss, especially since he hadn’t dealt with the stain immediately, so it was bagged in a plastic bag and set to the side. In hopes that Wonwoo would soon be able to go back to bed, Seungcheol placed the clean trash can by the bedside.

“Hey Shua”, Seungcheol greeted tiredly, wincing as he moved his head. His neck hurt from the night on the floor but he was not about to complain. 

Joshua waved at him with one hand,  carrying a medkit - likely borrowed from a medic - and a small bag full of what seemed to be groceries in his other hand. He handed the two items to Seungcheol without a word and tried to step inside. 

Seungcheol blocked his path. “We don’t need anybody else to get infected if he is contagious. It will be bad enough if I am sick in a few days.”

Joshua frowned and protested: “You must be tired, Cheollie. Let me help.”

“No, Shua. I know you want to but consider how bad it will be if this spreads. Let me take care of Wonwoo-yah while you and Hannie wrangle the other kids”, Seungcheol reasoned. He wouldn’t budge on this. There was no way he would let the illness spread in the group if he could help it. Considering how awful Wonwoo felt it would be a disaster. If there was one thing they had learned from Covid it was that isolation was key. “Besides, you already brought me the supplies.”

“... fine”, Joshua finally agreed. “Please take care of yourselves and, Choi Seungcheol, if you get sick before Wonwoo is recovered fully, you call for help or make Wonwoo call for help.”

“I promise”, Seungcheol said, a bit scared of Joshua daring to call him by his full name, “thank you so much.”

After closing the door behind Joshua, Seungcheol turned around to put the groceries away but stopped midway when he realized that Wonwoo was looking up at him through the partially open bathroom door with teary eyes. Setting the bags down, the leader rushed to him and knelt down by his side again.

“Hi”, he greeted with a small smile, “how are you feeling?”

But instead of replying verbally, Wonwoo just shook his head and buried his face in his knees, making himself as small as possible for a man his stature. “I’m sorry I’m causing so many issues. I shouldn’t have called, I’m perfectly able to take care of myself. You don’t have to take care of me.”

He clearly had overheard the conversation but had taken it very wrong.

Seungcheol placed his hand on the back of the younger’s head, ruffling his hair. “You certainly can take care of yourself”, he said cautiously, “that doesn’t mean you have to and we want you too. It’s alright to ask for help especially when you are throwing up and running a fever but even if not, we will always be ready to help you. As I said before, we are a family and we take care of each other. You wouldn’t have left, let’s say, Dino alone if he had called in the same situation, would you?”

Wonwoo lifted his head so quickly he seemed to have made himself a bit dizzy and shook his head. “What? Of course not!”

“See? Why would I act any differently towards you, baby?”

“I don’t want you to get sick, hyung.”

“If I get sick, I get sick”, Seungcheol replied with a shrug, “it’s part of life. I won’t like it but I won’t blame you. It can happen at the most inopportune times and I wouldn’t want to be healthy if I knew that I could have helped you and didn’t. Don’t feel guilty, Wonwoo. That’s not how family works.”

Wonwoo finally seemed to understand and nodded hesitantly. “Thank you, hyung.”

“Of course. Besides, you are saving me from having to deal with the luggage”, Seungcheol added with a wink.

Wonwoo giggled a bit at that, leaving Seungcheol feeling a bit lighter.

“Now, how do you feel?”, he questioned, continuing to play with Wonwoo’s hair.

“Still really queasy”, Wonwoo admitted, “my stomach feels really sore too. Everything does, to be honest. I just wanna sleep.”

“Do you think you could try to drink something and take some meds? Maybe see whatever Joshua brought you to eat?”

Wonwoo seemed to contemplate the answer to this question for a few moments, then nodded. “I am kind of thirsty. I don’t really want to eat but I will decide if I can try something when I know what we have?”, he suggested. “Can I brush my teeth first?”

“That sounds like a plan. Come on, up you get.”

Seungcheol stood up and reached down for Wonwoo to take his hands, pulling him up. Upon standing, Wonwoo swayed a bit, dizzy most likely, and nearly fell against his leader. Before anything could happen, Seungcheol stepped close and hugged him to his chest until the younger was a bit more steady. Once Wonwoo had brushed his teeth a bit faster than he normally would but enough to get the taste out of his mouth, Seungcheol took Wonwoo’s hand in his and tugged him along towards the bedroom, taking the groceries and the medkit with his other hand. 

Wonwoo sat down at the edge of the bed where the blankets were a bit disheveled, likely from his earlier attempt to get to the bathroom in time, careful not to stumble over the trash can.

As he unpacked the plastic bag the leader discovered that Joshua must have gotten ice chips from somewhere. It would have been nice to know, considering that they were already starting to melt and the bag outside had a lot of condensation but they were saved easily enough by putting them in the room’s freezer. Then Seungcheol pulled out a few bottles of water and different sports drinks, ignoring the snacks at the bottom for the moment.

“Which one do you want?”, he asked, gesturing at the multiple bottles shining in different colors against the white table.

“I don’t care. What taste is the orange one?”, Wonwoo asked. “Orange?”

“I’m guessing you mean the fruit not the color”, Seungcheol joked, struggling to make sense of the English word on the bottle, “it’s, uh, what’s tangerine?”

“Isn’t that what the international fans call Kwannie?”, Wonwoo asked, “it’s fine.”

Seungcheol opened the bottle for him and handed it over, sitting beside the younger for the moment. “Take a few sips”, he advised, “see how that stays down, okay?”

Wonwoo nodded and drank a few mouthfuls before putting it to the side, wincing as he swallowed. 

“Okay?”, Seungcheol asked, ready to grab the trash can if needed.

“Hm”, Wonwoo replied, “I don’t know if it tastes weird because I’ve been throwing up or because I just brushed my teeth or because it just tastes weird.” Relieved Wonwoo didn’t seem to be about to be sick, Seungcheol laughed. 

“Do you wanna change into some fresh clothes before we try some food and meds?”

Wonwoo nodded and quickly Seungcheol grabbed the stack of clothes that the other members had bought. It was a matching pajama set of short pants and a t-shirt, with small black cats printed on it. “Mingyu-yah”, Wonwoo groaned when he saw it. Seungcheol just giggled. His own sleep shirt he had received had a cherry printed on it, so he kind of saw where the members' minds had went. 

“It’s cute”, he said casually, “come on, you’ll feel better in clean clothes.”

Wonwoo pouted but did as bid, clearly wanting to be in fresh clothes more than protest their design. “It’s cold”, he commented, pulling up the blanket to his shoulders.

“That’s the fever”, Seungcheol said from where he was standing at the table and sorting through the food they had available. Joshua had been very thorough in his buying - there were plain crackers shaped like animals but plain nevertheless, applesauce and even some instant rice. “Why don’t you think about what you might like to try to eat while I get the thermometer and the medicine?”

Five minutes later they had established that Wonwoo was still running a low fever of 38.0°C and he had eaten a bit of the applesauce with the meds. 

“How do you feel? Ready to sleep some more?”, Seungcheol asked, slightly getting tired of the question. He just wanted Wonwoo to feel better now. The younger was slumped against his shoulder again, not far from nodding off in exhaustion again.

Wonwoo yawned. “Yeah. Stomach feels a bit weird but not too bad. Maybe I’ll be fine when I wake up.”

“Lie down”, Seungcheol requested and helped his dongsaeng climb fully onto the bed. He spread the blanket over him, making sure it covered him fully, before brushing Wonwoo’s hair from his face and planting a kiss on his forehead. “Sleep well. Love you.”

“Love you too”, Wonwoo slurred, mostly asleep, “lay with me?”

Before Seungcheol could answer Wonwoo was already completely down for the count but there was nothing else Seungcheol had to do and he wasn’t about to deny his dongsaeng’s request. So he slipped under the covers with Wonwoo and pulled the younger close before falling asleep himself.

💎

“I’m never eating again”, Wonwoo groaned, finally lifting his head out of the trash can. Seungcheol had been woken by him frantically scrambling for the bucket about ten minutes ago and he had been throwing up ever since. 

“At some point you’ll feel better”, Seungcheol mumbled as he took the bucket from Wonwoo’s hands but it seemed to be the wrong thing to say.

“Well, I want to feel better now”, Wonwoo hissed, clearly annoyed and overwhelmed. His eyes were ablaze with anger and frustration which quickly switched to tears again. “I feel awful. I’ve been feeling awful for I don’t know how long. My stomach hurts. My head hurts. I’m nauseous and exhausted. Don’t tell me stupid platitudes.” 

“Wonwoo-yah”, Seungcheol stuttered, not having expected such a violent reaction from his normally so calm dongsaeng. Granted, maybe his words hadn’t been the most helpful but what else was he supposed to say?

As quickly as the anger had come, it seemed to vanish. 

“I’m so sorry, hyung”, Wonwoo apologized, nearly falling from the bed in his attempt to bow in apology. Only Seungcheol’s outstretched arm was able to stop the fall. He quickly put the bucket down and took Wonwoo’s hands in his.

“Don’t apologize”, he soothed, “you’re sick. I won’t fault you for being in a bad mood due to that. I’m really sorry, I really hoped the meds would help more.”

“Still, I shouldn't have yelled”, Wonwoo whispered, staring down at his lap and blinking tears away. Seungcheol squeezed his hand before wrapping his arm around Wonwoo’s shoulder.

“It’s okay, baby. I don’t think I would have been any nicer in your situation. I just wish I could help you somehow.”

“I think I just want to wash out my mouth and sleep again”, Wonwoo whispered, “maybe my stomach will feel better after being empty for a while.”

“We can do that”, Seungcheol agreed and handed him a water bottle. Wonwoo swished the water around his mouth and spat it into the trash can Seungcheol held for him. He even swallowed a tiny sip of water which the leader took as a win. 

When he returned from washing out the receptacle, Wonwoo was dead asleep again.

💎

By evening Wonwoo hadn’t thrown up again and even admitted to feeling a bit hungry. He had eaten only half of the cup of instant rice but it was better than nothing. He managed to sleep through the night and by the evening of the next day he was deemed healthy again and ready to join the interviews that were scheduled on the day after.

Seungcheol had returned to his own room, happy to sleep through the night without waking up every half an hour to check if everything was okay. He had changed into sleep clothes and buried himself under his blankets when his phone rang.

“Nonie, I was about to go to sleep”, he complained in greeting.

“Sorry, hyung. Seungkwan isn’t feeling …”, Vernon started and then stopped suddenly before rushing footsteps and a sigh sounded through the speakers, “Seungkwan just puked all over himself.”

Masterlist links: Fairy's Full Masterlist Fairy's Masterlist - SEVENTEEN

[pinkusmaximus]

Siebren de Kuiper x Reader Headcanons

Look, I’m not usually the biggest fan of lists, but @akoiromanticstudent made a fantastic list of headcanons for Maestro Sigma and I was just like… let me write down my thoughts when I’m writing about the silly science man.

Look, everybody already headcanons this, but I’ll say it again; Siebren is a massive guy, and stronger than he really understands at times, so he takes the utmost care to be gentle and cautious with you.

Sometimes the caution goes a little too far and you have to end up asking to be squeezed tighter when he hugs you. Let’s be real, you like the big science man, you probably desire the sense of security his size brings you. Having seen the worst of humanity, he doesn’t mind indulging his protective side for you.

Siebren is ridiculously intelligent, but doesn’t try to dumb anything down when talking to you. In fact, he highly encourages you to ask questions any time you don’t understand something, because it just gives him an opportunity to go on an even longer tangent. You don’t mind (because you just like the sound of his voice, don’t you?).

He has few (if any) hobbies because he already does what he loves and has a hard time disconnecting from his work (literally lol sorry), but he would take interest in your hobbies purely out of a desire to learn about something new.

Has an innate appreciation of the arts that surprises some. His love of music is well-documented, but he would enjoy analyzing literature and art as well. It might take somebody who is already into those things to spark his interest since he’s already preoccupied with other pursuits, though.

He’s more likely to feel seen and understood by somebody who is neurodivergent. Look, the guy is strongly coded as autistic. I’m claiming this one for me and the homies.

He will not stop saying things in Dutch just because he speaks English— often just to mess with you. He wants you to figure out what he’s telling you, or what he’s calling you, at a later date in order to witness the delayed reaction. He is surprisingly teasing with you, picking out nicknames and phrases that he knows will cause a fit of blushing madness after you desperately scroll through your Dutch-to-English dictionary, trying to sound out what he’d said to you. Unfortunately for him, this will just make you better and better at guessing what he’s saying as you spend more time together and become more fluent yourself, and you can soon turn it back on him.

He doesn’t really know how to relax. Even if he seems like he is, he’s always a bit on edge. His mind moves a million miles a minute at all times, and it will often fall on you to make sure he’s being intentional with how he spends his downtime.

He has a vast collection of tea varieties. Prefers honey over sugar, as he doesn’t like the aftertaste. He has essentially memorized the best steeping times for every single variety he has, but tends to over-steep due to being somewhat easily distracted. He’d probably appreciate it if you bought him a kitchen timer, but you might have to be the one to listen for it regardless because his thoughts are often too loud for him to notice things like alarms and chimes.

That being said, he gives you a key to his home pretty quickly because he will never hear the doorbell, except perhaps the first time or two he’s expecting your company.

At first you think he’s just an extremely tidy person, because his home is impeccable all the time, but you gradually realize that it’s just because he spends all of his time in two rooms; his bedroom, and his study. There’s a thin layer of dust everywhere else.

Also, this guy has a terrible sense of time. Time is truly just a social construct to Siebren and you are going to be in charge of making sure you get to events you plan to attend together on time. In fact, you wonder how he managed to be as successful as he is with how often he’s late. Then again, he’s the smartest person you’ve ever met, so you suppose exceptions are made for him, which probably just exacerbates the issue.

[victoriafanfiction]

A collection of song lyrics I think would fit Mewtwo’s character.

Mewtwo x Female Reader

(Different scenarios for each lyric)

——————————————————

“Everybody wants to be my enemy”

Enemy - Imagine Dragons & JID

I would say something like this went through Mewtwo’s mind after he escaped from Giovanni’s manipulative hold, he was mistreated by Team Rocket and despised his creation along with the people who made him.

——————————————————

“Best to give me your loyalty”

Royalty - Egzod, Maestro Chives & Neoni

Imagine you encounter Mewtwo on New Island and he sees that you’re different from the rest as you’ve also been hurt by Humans.

His amethyst eyes land on you and he gives you the choice to join him, demanding your loyalty.

If you refuse to join him, well then he’d make you his pet.

——————————————————

“My patience is waning, is this entertaining?”

Bones - Imagine Dragons

Mewtwo has somewhat of a short fuse especially in regards to something he doesn’t like, a couple examples of this are when he first awakened and lashed out at his creators or when he learned the truth from Giovanni and rebelled against him.

If you were teasing him he’d quickly come to the point of having enough of it and will question you “is this entertaining?”

What happens next will depend on your response and his feelings towards you.

——————————————————

“Sail away, to the cold expanse of space”

Player Of Games - Grimes

It is said that Mewtwo has the most savage heart among all Pokémon.

Tell me, will you be there to warm his heart?

——————————————————

“Everybody’s got a dark side, do you love me? can you love mine?”

Dark Side - Kelly Clarkson

he was misguided by his experience with Giovanni which led him to try and wipe out the Human Race, he’s not proud of his past and Mewtwo would consider that to be his dark side.

When meeting you he was first distant and uninterested in your attempts to befriend him, however overtime your efforts seemed to have worked and Mewtwo has grown to like you, so one day he decides to open up about his past.

He understands if your view of him should change upon learning about his past but deep down all he wants is your acceptance.

——————————————————

“A perfect storm”

Dark Horse - Katy Perry

This Psychic Pokémon made a brutal storm with his abilities, I think this lyric is fitting.

——————————————————

“Come, come, kitty, kitty”

Hello Kitty - Avril Lavigne

He is a cat after all, however I doubt he’d take too kindly to being called kitty.

I would say his response and reaction highly depends on what mood he’s in and what your relationship is with him.

——————————————————

“Sink your teeth into my flesh”

Flesh - Simon Curtis

Mewtwo would 100% mark his mate.

After all, you do belong to him.

——————————————————

“It’s me against the world”

Me Against The World - Simple Plan

Now and then I imagine you’d have to remind this feline Pokémon that he’s not alone, he’s been through so much and some of it may be traumatic to him.

Make sure he knows that you’re there for him.

——————————————————

“I’m dominant by definition”

Call Me Master - Blood On The Dance Floor

Calling Mewtwo dominant? oh yes, this cat is an Alpha Male and he’d be more than willing to show you if you are his mate.

[kamenwriter]

"Space Babies" and "The Devil's Chord" reactions.

Spoilers I'm sure behind the cut.

Space Babies

"It was a genocide" wait I thought the time war got trapped in a painting and then...oh wait the Master killed them all during the Chinbal run, didn't he? God we could just ignore that whole mess but noooooo

The butterfly gag...sigh.

"we made it...we went to the stars" like, I get the whole "hopes and aspirations thing" but when we've got billionaires trying to sell us colonizing mars when it would be a hundred times cheaper and easier to save the planet we're living on, I'd rather a solar punk future not a colonization future. Am I being exceptionally cynical? Maybe. These are just "reactions" not a proper critique.

I can only imagine how difficult filming with all the babies was.

Making the Doctor adopted and all about "embracing what makes you unique" is good Timeless Child damage control but I dunno the idea of him being a renegade of a detached society appeals to me more than him being THE ULTRA SPECIAL TIME BABY.

The AI might actually be an AI?

AND there's something mysterious about Ruby because of course there is.

Star Trek ass looking uniforms on the crew.

"The planet down below refused to stop the babies from being born, but refused to take care of them afterwards" hey now this is getting close to some proper Doctor Who.

"It's like a children's story" this is is a good set up for the mystery here's hoping they stick the landing. Now watch it being some alien that feeds of psychic energy and manifested as the babies fears or something.

The incredibly literal baby raising machine made a bogeyman out of boogers to give the babies a monster to fear. Okay. Acceptable.

I totally understand the Doctor empathizing with the bogeyman but why the babies?

The constant babiesSPACEbabies bit got old so fast.

And a fart joke.

And don't forget, Ruby Sunday is super special and not just some random person we can't have random people do incredible things in Doctor Who nope nope nope

The Devil's Chord

The visual representation of The Maestro sucking out music and eating it is some fucking comic book shit and I am here for it.

The Maestro starts playing the intro oh god don't let this character be meta don't let this character know they're in a story don't fucking lay on that crutch.

"What about my clothes?" Both of those retro ass fits would work fine in the 60s. I'll concede to the hairstyle change though.

...trying to visually communicate the Maestro's influence on reality is definitely a trick. Again this feels exceptionally comic booky (That's a compliment).

Oh that's right Susan was potentially killed during whatever bullshit killed the Time Lords during the Chinbal run.

I do enjoy a camp villain.

The Doctor using the Sonic to actually do something sonic. What a refreshing change of pace

Ugh don't wink at the camera.

"I was born in 2004" well I'll just turn to dust, then.

Power scaling doesn't just affect shonen series the Doctor has to go up against literal gods now...

Callback to the Sound of the Drums yeah okay.

"There's a hidden song deep inside her soul" SPARE ME FROM THIS TROPE OF COMPANIONS BEING SUPER SPECIAL.

"What is this song?" "Christmas" actually it's the Carol of the Bells which was originally a Ukrainian song called Shchedryk do your research.

MuSIC BaTTle hahahaha

DONT WINK AT THE DAMN CAMERA

I want to make this clear I have no problem with a big musical number at the end but making it a meta joke I wanna bash my head in with a hammer. I'M SO FUCKING SICK OF META WRITING.

So in summation Space Babies was kind of what I expect from nuWho nothing amazing I would have loved The Devil's Chord if it weren't for the "oh Ruby is some secret incredible thing" and all the metaphorical and literal winks at the camera.

[hello-im-not-a-possum]

A Secret Leak: The Nightmare Road Trip.

While the ink monsters and machine were packed tightly into the back while the two 'guards' and the 'driver' got everything ready, there was a knot of dread in Joey's gut that he couldn't ignore. He knew he was in too deep to go back on his word, not unless he wanted to get himself killed, but seeing the cast of characters both in the back seat through the small glass window and right next to him made him loose faith in this.

He knew that the machine needed to stay out of GENT's hands, he knew he could rely on the strength of Allison, Tom, and the 'cycle breakers' as Wilson called them. And right now, in spite of everything, they managed to get that machine out of that horrid company and into his grasp once more. But while he could trust that Henry, Tom, and Allison also wouldn't want it to fall into the wrong hands, The Prophet, 'Alice', The Projectionist, and himself fit the bill for 'the wrong hands'. And while they moved the machine to its proper place, there was ample opportunity for one or more of them to abuse it...

He could trust that his three friends wanted nothing more than their earned freedom and the knowledge that the machine would be in good hands. But what about the twisted angel who wouldn't be satisfied with ink and parts alone? What about the monstrosity cobbled together out of the said parts? What about the mad maestro who denied wanting anything from him and claimed he was doing this because he was following his own faith? Surely he couldn't go along with them for that reason alone...

Malice wasn't the most honest when it came to promises, the Projectionist was technically promised nothing and probably wouldn't take that well, and the Prophet? He was a basket case wrapped up in the occult that Joey had to keep an eye on. Even if he didn't intend to betray them, he could screw something up due to his faulty mind and blind devotion... ...Technically speaking, as he thought back on it, could he trust Tom? The wolf was very suspicious of him from the looks of it, even as a wolf he was still a GENT member at heart, he could take the machine for himself if he turned his back on him...

How could he have been so blind?! Sure, he trusted Allison's judgement, but even he knew that Tom was never a sympathetic man towards the studio and its workers, and as the machine's inventor, of course he'd try to take it back himself if he had the chance to. And it was only a matter of time before it was left vulnerable during this escapade. Of course it was only a matter of time before Joey let his guard down around Tom because he was too busy keeping it up around the others to-

"...Joey? The light's green." Henry lightly shook the man, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"Oh- Oh yeah, right." the man cleared his throat and pressed on the gas. "Sorry, I guess I didn't notice.."

"No worries, but if you space out like that maybe you and I can switch spots."

"Maybe at the next stop." Joey nodded in agreement while glancing at the four ink creatures in the middle rear view mirror. "We're not out of the woods just yet..."

...

The next hour of the drive was spent in a peaceful yet uneasy silence. Henry was keeping himself awake by doodling random things, the Prophet was watching Henry doodle out of curiosity, Alice was making blueprints for the Projectionist's new body, the Projectionist seemed to be sleeping if the shutter and very faint snoring noises were anything to go by, Allison was staring out the window with a smile on her face as she watched new landscapes and places come and go, and Tom was keeping a watchful eye over the machine and the studio's workers, making a note of the fact that every time he looked through the small window that showed him the front seats, his eyes met with Joey's.

The hour after, the Prophet found an old yet very long craft store receipt and used it to play several rounds of tic-tac-toe with Henry, Alice managed to find some regular cartoon reels and managed to play them with the Projectionist, the Projectionist didn't mind being waken up to do this, Allison covered up the window she was originally looking out so that the light from outside wouldn't mess with Alice's movie, and Joey noticed that the wolf in the back seat was almost always looking at him suspiciously, as if he assumed he knew something he wasn't supposed to.

Thirty minutes later, Allison was trying to convince Alice to voice over the silent toon shows to which Alice refused as voice work with Allison was still a touchy subject for her. Tom was subtly trying to find things to cobble together a weapon with only to get busted by the screeching Projectionist. Joey was fruitlessly fidgeting with the radio in an attempt to find some music to distract his mind with. Sammy was making himself a new mask and Henry was asking the Prophet where he got the things that he was making the mask with, to which the ink man gave vague and or clearly unreliable answers to, but did answer every question the ex-animator had.

Another hour later, the group had finally found a gas station where they could safely shuffle the seating arrangements without getting caught by GENT workers. Henry was put in the driver's seat. Tom argued that he and Allison should be in the front row but Joey argued against it, bringing up the fact that Tom could be seen by humans and their cover could be breached. Tom retaliated that that didn't stop them from letting the non-disguised ink Prophet sit in the front. Joey argued that that was different as Sammy could still pass as a human being with the GENT uniform and a scarf. The Prophet himself brought up the fact that Tom and Allison were the ones who had the rest of the rainbow ink canisters and that Tom refused to give him any more now that "that part of the mission is over". Allison didn't mind sitting in the back and offered a compromise of her sitting back with the Prophet and the others while giving Tom the scarf and hat from the uniform which Sammy was fine with but Tom refused out of stubbornness.

Alice rolled her eye at the bickering and sat in the front with the Projectionist and stated that now that the other front seats were filled, Joey, Tom, and the Prophet had to sit in the back seat and shut the hell up. Henry was too tired to argue, but requested that Alice put the Projectionist in the seat between them to which Alice obliged, but Tom and Joey were still arguing.

Henry, Allison, and the Prophet used the chaos and bickering between the rest of the group as a smokescreen to just head into the gas station's convenience store. They spent roughly twenty minutes there, Henry trying to figure out how long he was stuck in time-looping ink hell using the inflation of prices as a reference, Allison just... wandering the store in a mix of bemusement and mild awe, not used to seeing so much food and so many convenient goods all in one place, and the Prophet was buying an empty journal, dog treats, beef jerky, candles, a lighter, and a pocket knife. The cashier thought nothing of it until Sammy, unprompted, started to repeatedly and suspiciously insist to the cashier that he was not going to lure in and sacrifice a dog. The other two left shortly after the Prophet was shooed out, fearing that the cashier also thought they were up to no good.

Soon after the group were finally settled into their new seats and back on the road, Allison reopened the window to look through it again. Henry focused on the road while driving and handed Alice the map. Alice looked over the map while flicking through the radio channels. The Projectionist took another nap. Joey anxiously tapped against the wall of the backseat. The Prophet hid his bag of purchases and knelt down to silently pray to his Lord. Tom smelled the fresh (by his standards) food on the Prophet and his stomach started to growl. But as a wolf and a man with dignity, a strong will, and restraint, he knew better than to beg the mad musician for food.

Two hours later, Alice and Henry were trying to figure out which motel was closer. The Projectionist was getting restless due to having his lens pointed at the floor so he wouldn't accidentally blind Henry or anyone on the road. Joey was digging through the box of miscellaneous items that he, Alice and Henry gathered from GENT during their side of the breakout. The Prophet was slowly and loudly chewing dog treats. And Allison was trying to distract Tom from his growing and increasingly insistent hunger. He appreciated it, but it didn't do much.

A final hour and a half later, the tired group FINALLY got to the motel. As most of the exhausted group shuffled out of the truck, Henry went in and got the room keys while Joey chained and locked up the ink machine and double and triple checked to make sure he had both the truck's keys and the keys to the machine's chains. If Tom had noticed, he would've argued with Joey over it, but right now he was focusing on getting out of the back of that truck that still smelled so strongly of fresh, savory, delicious meat that was so tantalizingly close to his nostrils, yet so far from his mouth... He almost felt like he was seconds away from breaking down...

"Okay guys I broke our sleeping arrangements up based on the available rooms." Henry cleared his throat to grab their attention "Tom and Allison, you two can share 103, Alice, you and The Projectionist have 202 it's the room with only one bed so I figured he could stay on the nightstand, And Sammy and Joey, you two get 414, please behave and try not to kill each other." He handed out the keys to the three pairs of people.

"Got it, see you in the morning" Alice nodded as she took the keys and the Projectionist before heading up.

"Thanks Henry." Allison smiled at the man as she took the keys. "Have a good night."

"And where will you be sleeping?" Joey asked the exhausted looking animator. "I don't see a forth set of keys."

"Oh, I'm just going to sleep in the truck." He shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm not really picky when it comes to beds, makeshift or otherwise."

"Does the truck need to be guarded during the night?" The Prophet sincerely asked.

"No, Joey has the keys and I doubt anyone will tow it, there's just... not enough room for me in the motel."

"Nonsense!" Both Joey and the Prophet chimed.

"You and I could share a bed-"

"My inky body is only solid because it's under constant stress, if I tried to relax and sleep in an actual bed, I would melt into the mattress. This would result in me leaving a horrible smelling stain that nothing could ever properly scrub out as well as resulting in me losing much-needed body weight." The Prophet explained while ignoring the look Joey was giving him which was somehow a glare, a look of disgust, and an expression of morbid curiosity all at once. "So regardless of the amount of beds, I would be sleeping in the bathtub anyway. Please do not waste the opportunity to sleep in a good bed for my sake."

"...Okay then. I guess I'm sharing the motel room with you two." Henry softly chuckled while shaking his head.

[starlightnighteve]

Chapter 10; Going Solo

After going to the sanctuary the next day rolled around quickly. Eve comes into work with a pleasant ray to her. She greets everyone on her floor with a smile, and makes her way to see Grey already working. Eve pulls out her seat. Grey turns at the movement.

Eve gives a big smile to Grey as she seats herself beside him. "Good morning, Grey~!" She cheered as she looked at him.

Grey seemed almost unaffected by it. He casually looks away, so he can hand her the morning brief of what was on the agenda. "Ah, morning Maestro. You seem cheery from the sanctuary, still. That's good... Got a mission to prepare for tonight. We just got word."

Eve looks at the list of what they had written for any leads or new cases. "Alrighty! What's the mission?"

Grey turns in his seat. He leans to one side facing Eve and looks down at the paper, pointing out to Eve parts. "Remember the one hacker from the previous base with the 'bug' problem? We also found where this information was going. Luckily now, all we have to do is catch this last rat. We'll have to interrogate this one further to see how they knew about the facility."

Grey pulls up from his screen a file with the name and information to show Eve. He turns his monitor a bit so Eve could see better. "Suspect is Victor Moore, you could certainly call him a small 'crime boss'. Moore was in a family business till he was removed for reasons unknown. He's got money and now influencing a gang that deals with a lot of bad stuff. Drugs, weapons, anything illegal, and in high demand. This information could be dangerous in the hands of a guy like him."

Eve's cheerful expression became wide-eyed worry. "Not good at all... What are we going to do to stop him?"

Grey knew when he told her, she'd ask that basically. "Good question, indeed. We can go about this in a few ways. We could try to infiltrate a bar he runs. He was recently spotted there, and that's how we found him. Think you can talk to him?"

Eve tilts her head curiously. "Okay... do you really trust me to talk-it-out with a bad guy? Is he normal? I can't fight him with powers, right?"

Grey oddly looks away, also not really favoring the idea. But, they had to. Grey needed Eve's help for something he's not the best with, surprisingly in their field. "Well... Ahem, it's not to put you on the spot, but you're at least going to be a lot more approachable than me for this. Maybe you could undercover. Act like you're a singer that wants to perform at his bar, then get him alone for a second to arrest him. Just dress in a disguise, and don't give them your name. I'll be able to reach you, if you get into some trouble."

It sounded like Grey couldn't be beside Eve to help, as he's usually been. Now, he's distanced, and Eve will have to handle leading the investigation. She'll have to use her improv skills, and charm, to survive on her own.

Eve slumps into her seat and sighs tiredly. "Sigh... Why do I have to go to a bar?" She pouts, since she definitely wouldn't want to be alone either. Eve didn't go to bar's or drink. She also was a performer for a younger audience, her personality just didn't fit the bar seen. Bars were only fun for her if there was a band, or if she'd perform.

Grey turns more deadpanned. He walks through a small plan, so his partner gets more of that jist. "Just get in, spot the target, get or follow him to where there's less people. Don't act like yourself. You naturally act like a disney prince. Where black instead of white and light colors. Don't act so kind and righteous, you don't want to become an easy target. You'll see characters at the bar from formal, to even grimy. So, just don't look too inconspicuous with that...."

Eve surprisingly sounded excited and focused. She raises her arms, and balls her fists together determined. "Okay! I'll dress dark, and pretend I've got problems I can't handle, and I want to sing about it! Yay~!" Eve then cheered as she flew her arms up excitedly.

Grey feels like he's regretting this idea already. "Definitely hope you can act the part too, quietly...."

Eve chuckles at her partner's remorse. "I'll try my best!"

Grey will just have to take Eve's word for it. This was Eve's expertise. "Good. We'll have earpieces, so we can partially communicate. I can help you, if you hesitate at all."

This was pressure on Eve to perform and act, but that's her skill set. She won't use her usual gimmicks. Eve's going to channel something she's not shown in front an audience. Eve was going to go dark.

__________________________________

(Warning; Strong language)

The two finish the rest of their work, and prepare for Eve's undercover mission that night. A new an anxious task ahead, and crooked people to follow, but Eve had to disguise herself amongst them to find out what they were planning. They had plenty of time to strategize first, and know when, where, and who to look for.

Grey is in Eve's apartment, hanging out with Sameer in front of Eve's bedroom door. Though Eve and Grey weren't off the clock yet, the two outside had been waiting patiently for Eve. She was just needing a moment to change for the mission.

Eve opens the door after some time. "'Kay, Grey. Do I look ready?" She hushed her voice in a low and calming tone.

Both Grey and Sameer look widely at Eve's transformation. Her hair was slicked down with gel, and bangs slightly parted to one side. She leans on the doorframe with her elbow that barely holds on a large leather jacket. Her other hand out on the door.

Eve threw on whatever black articles, and celestial jewelry she had from different costumes. Although very covered, under her jacket she rolled her shirt sleeves, and hints of white ink showed on Eve's pale skin. A rare detail to see, which was something interesting about her that fit the look. Grey lands his gaze back at Eve's face. Her eyes were done with a smokey, wet look, she wore a glossy sinister smile, along with heavy raised eyelids peering at Grey from under her lashes.

Since Grey laid silent, Eve speaks up again, almost sounding bored, or annoyed. "Got something to say, or are we just standing around?" She chuckled at her own joke, using the fake persona.

Eve strides out and idles in front of Grey. She gives him a thumbs up, and presses a hand to her ear. "Earpiece is already in, let's go." Eve turns to the door, and Grey snaps out of his silent glaring, and follows behind.

As Eve goes to head out, she spins around, waving and smiling cheerfully. "Bye Sam~! I'll be back later! I'll miss you!!"

As Eve turns back around, Grey eyes her sternly. His cold eyes peer light into Eve's after she locks up her door. Even with the makeup and a different outfit on, Grey just sees Eve through it all. "Okay, start acting now. You're too loud for looking like that right now. All I see is your goofy self still."

Eve tilts her head innocently, still smiling sweetly. Even with dark makeup on she was radiant as she giggled out the door. Grey leads her down to where a car was parked outside the apartments. They head to the bar. They talk about the plan, and if anything were to happen. After looking and going over all the exits, Eve heads in, while Grey hangs outside in case the suspect leaves.

The bar was dimly lit, pool tables being played filled the bar with clatter and ambiance. An empty stage was on the opposite side of the entrance. And for decor, despite being a bar, it was decorated like a casino room just with shady deals in the corner booths, rather than people on slot machines. Eve walks in, the checkered tile making her steps much louder in boots. She goes straight to the bar, and takes a seat.

"Hmm...." Eve scans the small drink list. It held the specials she's never heard of. She doesn't know any drink names besides obvious ones. She tries not to, but couldn't help but be a little nervous, especially out in the open alone.

Eve sits at a bar owned by the suspect. It was a smaller crowd occupying the bar, since it was early in the weekday. It wasn't because of her outfit, but her natural looks caught a few eyes coming in. She would burn her glaring eyes at anyone that looks at her pass, as part of the act.

Eve waves at the bartender. She speaks shortly, and tries to have less character in her voice. "Hey, I would like to order but I'm bored of some drinks. Do you have anything that won't hurt my voice? I'm a singer, I don't want to be with a trashed voice in the morning...." She lies, at least about the drinking ordeal.

The bartender nods, then the corner of his lips perk upwards. "I could also give you something not so strong maybe. We have a few cocktails that don't sting goin' down."

Eve bangs on the counter with her hand, acting excited at the idea. "Perfect, then I can drink a lot of them, right? Heh heh, just kidding. Surprise me!" Her look and act, fitting enough as a punk rocker.

The bartender takes a moment to prepare a drink. They soon hand Eve a small glass of a colorful liquid. She idles it, while she brings out a burner phone, pretending to act distracted.

The bartender doesn't leave, but just leans on the counter facing Eve. He eyes her, looking oddly at her. "So, a singer, ya' say? Would you sing somethin' then?"

Eve gives a bored scoff, and chuckles. "Heh, like what? Anything? I'm from overseas, so my music originally wasn't in English. But... Give me a guitar, or something to play, and I got you."

The bartender looks over Eve's shoulder and shouts directed over to a booth in the corner. "Hey V! Can I spare an instrument from the stage? This girl's gonna play somethin'."

Eve slowly turns her head to one of the corner booths. She spots a man, also a woman by the man's side. His face looked like the suspect she was looking for. It was the one who the hacker tried to give secret information from government facilities to. He glares at Eve coldly, but then chuckles.

Eve stares at the suspect from the counter of her eye. The suspect, Victor Moore, stares coldly at Eve. Then, he waves a hand and acts nonchalantly. "Hm, why not, but it better be good then."

Eve raises her glass to the suspect, trying to act like she doesn't know who he is. "You'll have to be the judge. Don't worry, I can sing, my genius however, is a little out there..."

Eve brought the drink to her lips after toasting to 'Mr. V' in the corner, as thanks for his permission. She didn't drink it, but tasted it and pretended to drink. It still left a terrible taste in her mouth.

Eve is handed an acoustic guitar moments later and was ready to rock, acoustically, that is. "Thanks." She at least tries to keep a bit of politeness for allowing her request. Her plan had just worked out perfectly, finding and calming getting the suspect's attention.

Eve starts to play something, a few chords and then she used her voice as a harmony till she found some lyrics to sing towards the end.

Victor had gotten up shortly after Eve stopped with her playing and singing. He eyes Eve wildly, then tries to act unamused as he spoke. "Good enough. Got to say, you're mighty beautiful in appearance as well..."

Eve's ear buzzed instantly after the suspect's statement, and Grey's voice spoke into her earpiece.

'Please don't you dare fight him, Maestro. Change the subject.'

Eve mentally nodded to herself as she eyes around the room nervously. Her eyes fall to the woman in the corner, and Eve points her thumb towards her. "... I'm more interested in the innocent thing over there, bud." It was impromptu, but hopefully a good end to that conversation.

The man looks behind him, and looks back, oddly smiling at Eve. "Her? Heh, you got a fine eye, we can certainly share, huehehe. Thing is... she's one of my 'special' girls, I can't just leave my belongings with others. She's got a pretty price for that head of hers... Unless you're still interested...." He raises a curious brow.

Eve raises a brow, curious but she didn't think she wanted to know what she meant. However, something didn't feel right when looking at the young woman. She didn't not look happy to be there. She even looked scared as she hid in the booth only peering over occasionally with a worried look.

Eve decides, despite her worry, someone else there seemed more scared and out of place than Eve. She'll play along for now till she finds out who that woman is. "Well, can the girl come up here? She's got legs, doesn't she?"

The suspect quickly snapped his fingers and waved the woman over in a quick notion. The woman hesitantly gets out of the booth and stands by the man. Grey speaks again. This time, Eve spots small movements from a window, likely Grey hiding.

'What's going on? I'll try to find out who that woman is....'

With a bit of security even outside, Grey was most likely behind something out of sight. He had his work laptop if they needed information to help Eve. But, he still tried to be close, as much as he could on the sidelines. Grey was on alert for Eve in case of an emergency, and if he needed to pull her out.

Eve places a finger under her chin and narrowed her eyes, staring at the woman. "Hm... Yeah, her looks could drive anyone crazy, but I don't get what's so special about her." She dropped her hand and shrugged. She looked away unamused with her head in the air.

Moore nods and smirks, seemingly understanding. But, he immediately goes emotionless and serious. "Heh... I think it's best if you don't ask anything else. She's here, you can look, but not touch." His brows furrowed closely together, scowling at Eve. He'd be best to stop talking, or rid her from the bar already.

Eve teased in a sinister, yet teasing tone. "Dawww, I'd buy her a drink first if I was going that far~. It's a girl, you can spot those anywhere outside." Eve's voice went deadpan at the last part.

Moore goes red with anger as he snaps at Eve. "SHE'S NOT JUST A GIRL- She's got a lot more to her for her price! Want to know more, you pay a fee. Interested still?" He presses on, waiting for Eve to back down as she should, or see if she'll regret trying to push his hand.

Eve just waves her arms up and shrugs. "Hmph, well I got money from being a singer, traveling overseas, and all. Cash for a girl, I'll buy into it if it's that special." She sounded disgusting to herself, which worked with her persona. Eve didn't want to make a deal, but she'd figure some way to get either Victor, or the girl alone.

'Maestro! You don't have to get involved in a private matter. I'll figure out who she is! We'll handle that! You need to not provoke, or make any deals with them!"

All while Agent Grey spoke, Eve took her time rummaging in her bag. She sighs aloud. "Mmm... sigh. I only have some cash right now, but it's yours, if I can see something worth my while..."

Moore just quickly glances at how much she had, then tosses it back to Eve, and scoffs. "This... is barely enough to even bribe with..."

Eve complains in an outrage, trying to purposely provoke him. "Well that's all I got on me. You think I'd carry all my cash on me?! How'd I go home if I don't have money for a taxi? Or pay for my drink?!"

Moore shook his head disapprovingly. It felt like a waste of his time discussing private information. Especially, if it's just because someone likes one of his girls, and not because of whatever they could do that was special. "Whatever... it's not enough. I'm done here..."

Eve tires to keep Moore attention. She couldn't give up now on know more about whatever this deal was involving the woman. "W- wait! What's a girl gotta do to get your lips to run? You've already intrigued me. Why back out now, after telling me all about it?"

'Stop this, Maestro.'

Grey's voice cut through like a doubtful inner-voice. Eve shouldn't be angering the suspect, or anything else she's doing.

Moore annoyingly waves off Eve and turns his attention away. He gave his last word before going back to the booth with the girl under his arm. "You're just a girl. This is nothing for you to meddle in. Think you can weasel into my business, because you're wanting something out of it?"

Eve flat out did. More than that suspect imagined. Trying to think of what she could give, besides the amount of money, Eve's eyes lit up with an idea. "Oh! How about a trade of sorts. I'll sing and work at your bar for free, for the girl. How about it?

You know what they say, curiosity killed the cat. And, Moore might not let Eve go, if he showed her. Seeing that this girl won't stop bugging him, the suspect finally gives in to Eve's demand. He just lets his fiery eyes ignite a sinister smirk on his face again. "Hm... Fine. I need more than just your word, but I'll give you a sneak peek, as interest..."

Moore gets close to the woman. He places a hand firmly on her shoulder, and leaning over the other shoulder speaking. "Ever hear about people with rare abilities?"

Eve's eyes light up, shocked. Of course, she would know about abilities, out of anyone there. But, the suspect also knew perhaps. She tried to play along to see where he was going. "Ah- abilities? I'd have to see it to believe it...." She lied.

Moore still felt annoyed, though he figured Eve to have not heard what powers, let alone have them. "Okay, fine. See here, then... You know what to do." He growls the last part in the woman's ear, she fidgets and shakes in fear.

'This is not good... If he's selling that girl, he's selling abilities....'

It seemed something much more sinister was happening. Moore has his hands on a lot of rare stuff, and making illegal businesses with a lot of secret items, information, and people too. Making his business far more dangerous than normal gangs.

The woman holds out her shaking hands slowly and Victor grabs them both tightly with one hand. He takes out a knife, and Eve jolts. He proceeds to cut the wrists of the scared woman. When Eve was expecting her blood to come out, it was a blue, shiny liquid oozing out. As the woman holds in her tears and a yelp, she brings her hands to her and cradles them as something feathery falls off of her. She then unraveled her hands and blue, crystal-like flowers and petals bloomed.

The suspect puts the knife away, and chuckles, looking over for Eve's reaction. "Isn't she beautiful?" Victor said.

Eve mutters quietly in shock. "Magic... crystal flowers?" Seeing what was exactly going on now, Eve's eyes twitched as she arose and waltzed up to them. She leans over to gaze at the woman closely, and with traces of sadness in Eve's eyes.

"Hmm... yes, very." Eve says plainly and unamused. She wasn't looking at the flowers, but at the girl. Eve's cover starts to break the more she gets angrier, but she tries not to show.

Eve had a new plan come to mind. One that was not her original mission, but a mission to help this woman. "Alright then... How much?"

'What?! MAESTRO, REFRAIN!! Don't accept ANY deals from that criminal!'

Grey tried to rebuttal, but Eve ignored him.

Moore smiles wickedly. "Heh, hundred thousand." He knew the price was way more than what Eve would have. It would be almost impossible for her to pay.

Eve's eyes went wide for a moment, hearing the price. Eve couldn't go through with it, only figure out another way to free the girl. "Psh, so expensive for a girl who's got a choice of her own too."

Eve scoffs, she pushes the man's shoulder and takes the woman's arm to bring her closer. "Can't she choose too?"

The suspect flings Eve's hand off the woman's, and pushes her away. He gets in her face, while he yells. "Hey! She can't, so get the hell away from her!"

Eve bravely goes back to the lady, this time holding her tightly so they wouldn't be parted so easily. She lifts the woman's chin to focus on Eve solely, and smirks, as if satisfied. "Hey, princess. Are you scared? Do you want me to help you out?" Eve paid no mind to the suspect, or anything, besides the woman.

The girl takes a large gasp and whispers, "P- please....", as softly as her trembling voice could allow.

'Maestro? Can you hear me?'

Eve did hear him, but she wasn't going to let him stop her. Moore tries to free Eve's grip from the woman to no avail. Eve chuckles to herself, then looks and smirks at the suspect. "Heh... It's settled. This woman... is coming with me." Eve said simply and plan, for such a tall order.

Moore had enough of Eve's nosy questions and ridiculous ideas. "Like hell, you're gonna take her. You're getting on my last, fucking, nerve." He pulls out a gun and points it at Eve's forehead. She looks at him with the same plain and cold expression.

Even when staring down a barrel pointed to her head, Eve was calm. Rather annoyed, but calm given her life being threatened. "I'll be taking her with me no matter what..."

Eve looks down, and then throws a stool at the suspect. She also throws one over the bar at the bartender. While they try to evade it, Eve grabs the woman a bit forcefully, so that she's embracing the woman tightly. Then, suddenly disappearing into a flash of light that darted across the room. She tucked the woman hostage under a table for protection, then darted back.

Moore regains, and looks around for Eve. She just then ran along the edge of the bar, acting as a diversion for the innocent girl. The suspect aims his gun, but then Eve dives behind the bar. The bartender rushes over to her huddled, but gets immediately kicked over to the other side of the counter.

The suspect yells at top volume. "What the-?! Everyone! Over here, and kill this stupid bitch!"

As if she hadn't already drawn attention to herself, now security and thugs are rushing over to them. She couldn't use too much magic, or her abilities. At least normal patrons were fleeing, with a few left a part of Moore's gang. Still, she could only try to fight with whatever she had up her sleeve.

In that case, Eve reached for her utility belt and grabbed a few fire capsules. A group of thugs ran behind the bar and saw Eve hiding. Eve ran out from behind the counter and threw fire capsules onto the ground. The flames roared up, and the suspect, along with a few others rushing Eve, then retreated away from the vibrant fires.

The suspect aims again through the flames, but Eve lunges out, fluidly taking out a bo staff and disarms him quickly. The fires move around Eve, even though they had no effect under her control regardless. She didn't want to ruin the act yet.

Commotion and uproar are as loud as the roaring flames. Eve swiftly spins and dodges at ongoing attacks, along with a swirling fire around her like a barrier. Fire twirled around her staff, and Eve combated the onslaught of people.

Eve got a blow to the face that left her dazed for a moment. She couldn't regain her stance. The fires disparate as Eve suddenly stops her control. After a few missed dodges, Eve kept getting hit and knew she needed to take control quickly.

One goon unfolded a pocket knife and swiped repeatedly at Eve. Eve threw a capsule right between her feet, and she was able to draw the others away again. With Eve outnumbered, dozens to one, and with little magic she was using. Eve tried her best to hold her ground. At least everyone was so focused on her, the hostage was slowly fleeing, whenever the coast was clear. At least Eve was saving the girl.

Moore yells, with something oddly in his enraged eyes. "ENOUGH!!"

Moore didn't have his gun out, but he ran and tried to make a break for Eve. She bats a fist away from the suspect, when suddenly his hands turned black, and the sleeve she was holding practically melted away in her hand.

Eve leaps away, shocked. Looking at the suspect, his arms were uncovered, turning black, with dark plumes of dark smoke coming from his eyes. They stand apart, till Victor decides to make another try at attacking Eve. She can just tell, she didn't want to touch his arms. Or, her gloves and appendages would burn right off. She makes sure to attack lower, so she won't get badly injured.

Eve also couldn't hold out without using her powers now. In a flash of light, any swipe or punch Victor threw, Eve dodged. She swipes down low at the suspect's feet, and he falls. Eve was about to knock him unconscious, till footsteps sounded too close behind. She turns as more of Moore's thugs come running in to help their boss.

Eve quickly jumps back and holds out her hands. She suddenly glows, and her hands make a ring, and blast a grouped-up pack following. They all fell to the ground, but we're still conscious. Eve fans her hands away from each other, sending light-beams around the bar.

Victor Moore exhaled a tired and fed-up gasp. He sits, then stagers up. Eve suddenly flashed by him like a shooting star. Moore processed what was going on, then baffled. "What... THE HELL?!"

Eve looks back and scoffs at the suspect. "Ha! You have a power too? I got unlimited... You won't stand a chance."

Moore grit his teeth, venomously spouting. "One touch and your whole arm will disintegrate! Fucking try me bitch!" He tries to run after Eve, as she's flying around the room.

'MAESTRO!!'

Grey finally interrupts, seeing that Eve's getting way over her head challenging the whole bar and bar owner. He was about to run in, or leap through the window. something, anything to get Eve out. Eve wasn't responding to Grey, he couldn't be much help with her ignoring him.

The suspect rushes at her with his toxic arms. Eve suddenly halts and confidently stands her ground, challenging him. "Oh, try to touch me. Fat-chance you can get near me." She then throws out her stone figures, and they all form a wall in front of her, along with a bit of smoke.

Moore continues to run in, grabbing at a tall stone figure, and watching it stay motionless. Its reactionless state initially shocked him. He kept his hands gripping the statue's shoulders as it slowly started to decompose thin layers of the stone's surface. Till, the stone statue grabbed the suspect suddenly, and held him up by his shirt collar.

The suspect became scared, grabbing the stone figure's wrists with his hands so that they would let go. But, it didn't easily till the wrists Moore was making contact with started to crack. Then, the statue threw Moore as far as it could across the bar.

The group of statues disburses, charging and attacking thugs. Eve jumps onto a table still standing upright, and calls out the suspect, as he's achingly standing back up. "Hey!! So you like flowers? Why don't I show you more!!"

Eve takes a leap and topples onto one guy and runs off. She slides on the floor, wiping a petal that was in a small pile on the ground from the woman. Eve halts, and places it on the ground again. She suddenly feels a large surge of power and places both hands on the floor. The ground beneath her shook slightly and a layer of blue crystals sheeted the ground and trailed into a curved tree-like figure sprouting from the ground up. It suddenly continues to cover the floor in a bigger circle around the base of the tree, trapping feet and anything on the floor around it.

Eve screams angrily, and it's as if her voice was cracking and shattering the tree, shards of crystals were sent as projectiles toward enemies. Eve roars in outrage. "How DARE you trade this girl. She's not an object! I'm taking you all in. You'll be arrested for buying information from hackers, and selling girls with powers!"

The gang started to lessen, given most were running away. A few people ran up to Moore. It seemed to Eve that they were trying to get the suspect to leave.

Eve ran after them, screaming as she tried to catch up. "You're not going ANYWHERE!! Get back here!"

Eve throws more fire capsules onto the ground, then disburses the flames far to form a large circle around the group. Everyone inside the circle, including the suspect, was trapped. No one could escape the colorful hellfire, moving statues now surrounding them, or Eve running in the center of the ring, who was controlling it all. She was throwing all her tricks out to fight. She keeps her statues close so that their brute strength could take on the crowd if she was getting swarmed in a tight ring.

With all the enemies still remaining, people started attacking, multiple at a time. Eve and her statues try to fight them off. Unfortunately, Eve got hit a few more times, with everyone too close to the counter. She swipes at one, but another punches Eve right in the face, again. She took a step back and had a statue behind her protect her as she was falling back a bit. She spits out an iron taste from her mouth coming from a now open cut on her lip.

Eve crushes a capsule in her hand so that flames swirled around her, so she was untouchable. Eve taunts them by spinning around to dodge, and weaving through enemies while setting them aflame. Eve yells, with the bitter fiery in her veins. "... You make me sick. Criminals like you should be locked up!" Surprisingly, it seemed just a lone, ability-user single-handedly overthrew the whole gang slowly. The gang now fought a downhill battle.

The flames grew, a bit too much. Fire started on the ground, then traveled to curtains, chairs, and the whole structure, till it was burning up. Everyone was or had run away. Many shouted and panicked. One voice here from a thug yelled. "RUN!! Bust the windows before this place burns up!"

The smoke and flames had caused everyone to escape to safety. Eve couldn't chase them all, but she could at least try to arrest the main suspect. Eve's eyes glowed and her heartbeat slowly stopped. Suddenly, she wasn't breathing, yet she was still functioning as if normal. As if breathing was no longer required, and she didn't need to breathe in the contaminated air.

Eve was about to run after the main suspect when a small voice caught Eve's attention. It was the hostage that the suspect had around them.

The same woman was behind the bar as everything around her was on fire, the flames threading closer to her. She couldn't get off the ground it seemed. The smoke and heat were causing her to almost blackout. "H- help...." The woman closed her eyes after using all her strength to speak.

Eve halts and spins right back into the raging fire, flying over to the woman. Eve crouches down and bats the flames away with a powerful gust around them. Eve lifts up the girl slowly. The woman couldn't move or even properly breathe.

Eve didn't breathe as she kept using her power to lack the need for air. Eve could still speak a little, which only sounded like a whisper against the flames. "I'm sorry for getting you in harm's way. Please, Miss. Hold on just a bit longer."

Eve decided to pick up the woman and carry her in her arms. Looking at the surroundings, the exit door was trapped in fallen debris. She had to look for another exit or any route out like the others. She charged for the closest window, which sadly wasn't an already broken one, but it was the quickest way out. Eve crashes through and lands on the ground. She tried to make sure the woman didn't get the ground's impact. The woman started to cough, and gasp for clean air. Luckily she was okay, Eve was relieved.

As Eve tries to get up, along with helping up the woman that was on top of her. Eve continues to carry the woman. She walked around to the front of the building with the suspect in her arms still, as the building was slowly going down in flames. She hears footsteps running over as she turns the corner of the building. It was Grey. He gasped, and let out a relieved, tired sigh. "Oh my GOD, Maestro!!"

Eve didn't process fast enough, as she stared blankly for a moment till Grey rushed over to her side. Backup had arrived and surrounded the scene up front, thanks to Grey's doing. Vans rounded up affiliated suspects. Hopefully an ambulance was on sight as well. With the hostage weak in her arms, Eve needed to get the woman immediate medical attention.

Grey puts a heavy hand on Eve's shoulder, and lowers his head down. "You're alright...." He let out another relieved exhale.

Eve looked down, she went against Grey's warnings, yet he wasn't yelling at her. "I'm so sorry, Agent Grey. I put myself and a victim in danger. I promised not to-" Eve looks over the woman's head to see Victor restrained and sitting on the ground.

"Oh... you caught him! Thank the stars!" Eve beamed, happy, and relieved herself. She had worried the suspect was going to get away.

The suspect looks up at Eve, highly annoyed, as he's suddenly forced up by S.O.U officers, and walks to the squad cars. Outside the flaming building, backup had waited and was gathering all the escaping suspects. No one ended up being able to escape after all. It ended unexpectedly alright. With only property damage, no fatalities, and all were being arrested on sight.

Grey glares at Eve impatiently, with his tension building up. He snaps at Eve. "Grr... Put the girl down already!! I need to make sure you're both okay!" Grey couldn't think about anything but Eve's condition right now. His partner had just been cornered by bad guys in a burning building, and she's acting as if nothing happened.

Eve blinks surprised, indeed seeming oblivious to her own injuries. "Oh... sure. I feel fine though. How about you, Miss? Can you stand?" She asked the woman facing her. Eve wanted to make sure the lady was alright first, before trying to stand. Eve didn't check for anything broken yet.

The woman's face became flushed, wildly blushing, and stumbles in her words. Her eyes were now wide, staring at Eve. "Ye- ahem- yes..." She coughed, from the aftermath of the smoke in her lungs. Her voice sounded a little irritated and dry.

Eve carefully put the girl down. The hostage wobbled, then stood. With the woman out of Eve's arms, Grey's able to get close to his partner. He grabs Eve's shoulders to face him. "Look at me... You're lucky you got out particularly unscathed besides some cuts and bruises... Jeez! Don't do that again, you hear me?!" Grey looks at Eve's disheveled state, and the more he did, he got more snappy.

Whether it was the adrenaline, or that it was over with, Eve giggles. She decided to give a wide, toothy smile. "I'll try, I'll try~ Luckily, everything worked out in the end!"

Eve felt something trickle down her face. She presses a hand to her cheek and sees a bit of blood. She did hurt and ache everywhere, but it was like she was able to tolerate it. It just became uncomfortable, and worth the sacrifice of her own well-being.

Grey rubs his face tiredly, then stares back down at Eve and wipes her cheek, and cleans her lip with his shirt sleeve. Grey huffs frustrated. "God, you're so unbelievable... Listen to me next time. And, get out when it's too dangerous!"

Grey frees Eve's cheek, and she blinks widely, flashing her big blue eyes. "But! I'm so 'unbelievably' good at my work, right? Hehe, just trying to lighten the situation." Eve smiles like an innocent child. Grey tries his best not to have his head burst from frustration.

The woman that had been around the suspect came up to the partner agents. "Um... Miss? Th- thank you, f- for saving I- me. I- I can't thank you enough or... pay you back for it. B- but, I'm so sorry for getting myself trapped there...."

Grey focuses back at the girl, coolly. He responds, sternly asking the woman to explain. "Could you tell us a bit why you were there?"

Getting nervous again, the hostage jolted at Grey's question. She sheepishly answered still, being honest, though she didn't want to reflect on it. "He was keeping an eye on me, so I wouldn't escape. I heard the man sold women, some had powers like me... He then kept threatening me to be sold off, or have my arms burned off, if I misbehaved... Like others that tried to run..." Her eyes go into pure shock as they flush with tears. Her tears were a special wonder too. They looked like blue pearls that floated down weightlessly and bubbled on the ground.

Eve looks down at the pearls, then back up at her. Eve tried to give her a smirk, but it physically hurt a bit too. "Well, you're too good for a man like that, now aren't you? You truly do have a beautiful power. You have the ability to make Crystal Philiris flowers, also known as soul flowers. You make a natural ingredient for spells and potions, it's hard to find those naturally, nowadays. Also, I don't think they saw how purposeful you really are. No one knows how to use those flowers besides 'magicians'."

The woman looks utterly confused. Although she heard her clearly, she didn't understand what Eve meant. Of course, the woman knows nothing about magic or what she can make exactly. "A... what flower? F- for who?"

Eve realized she was getting too excited, and over her head. Eve nervously waves her hands frantically, explaining. "Sorry, probably confusing to spout random stuff... It's rare and very useful for good things. They missed that part when seeing your ability, just how special you TRULY are."

The woman gets close to Eve, almost pleading. "I- I can give you as many flowers as I can make, I- if they're that important!"

Eve jolts back a bit surprised. She then scratches the back of her head and thinks aloud while looking off into space. "Oh, my... I might ask you for 'one' if I need it for something. They are really expensive, or daunting to make... B- but regardless, what I mean to say is that we don't need flowers, but a moment of your time. We need you to come with us for questioning regarding what happened. This information and event are part of a classified case, since this is secretive information from most of the world. Powers are to be hidden, because they can cause, or attract dangers. You're not in trouble, but maybe you'll have to start a new life, to prevent this ever happening again..."

The woman was speechless. She stood there as more pearls streamed down from her eyes, not from fear, but from finally being free again. The overwhelming events had gotten to her. Finally able to process things, but still scared of the unknown of what will happen next. She was freed, but what was after, the woman had no idea.

To Eve, and Grey's surprise, the woman suddenly stumbles close to Eve again. The woman held her chest tightly, face lit up at Eve's. "I- I'm so sorry you were h- hurt because of me... Y- you're my hero." She sweeps, although afraid, there was relief in her sad sighs.

Eve's eyes go wide and mouth agape. She shakes her head suddenly and then coughs into her fist, trying to act cool. "-?! I- it's nothing. You looked so scared back there... You're just an innocent bystander that didn't deserve any of this. I'm sorry you had to experience all of that."

Even Grey looks weirdly between them, feeling like a third wheel to something. But, all three went to the first responders to get aid for both Eve and the woman. All the thugs and the suspect that ran were contained and quickly fled the scene silently in squad vans and cars. Grey took a work car they used to take the woman to the hospital, to talk further about what happened.

___________________________________________________

The agents had interrogated the witness, she easily complied with Eve, before dozing off after an eventful evening. The woman from the incident was already asleep, and recovering quickly in a special agency hospital for the night. After questioning Victor Moore, they take him to a containment cell, in the prison ward below the building.

Although this case was coming to a close, Eve didn't hear the last say from Grey about her actions. Both Grey and Eve just clocked off from a late shift, leaving the unit back to the apartments.

Grey shouts, even though Eve was right next to him, he wanted her to feel his fury. "When I say refrain, that means refrain! Don't you ever pick a fight with another suspect alone! You hear me?! What if you died?! You could have gotten burned to death, or paralyzed!..."

Grey went on, and on, walking back as they reached the elevator inside their apartment. Eve chose to not use run to the stairs like she usually does. She could walk up to the higher floors, not well, but she contemplated as Grey kept scolding her.

Eve tiredly replied, combing her hair with her fingers so that it was less gelled. "Again... I can control flames, but yes, I completely understand..."

Grey looks away and crosses his arms as he huffs angrily. "The building could have, bloody, collapsed on you! And also!... I'm so sorry that this was my fault..." He looked down as his voice became saddened, and his gaze dropped.

Eve whips her head to Grey. "Huh- what?"

Grey faces Eve, even though a part of him didn't want to. His expression was also dreary as he spoke. "It's my fault you were there in the first place on your own. I pushed you to go...."

Eve gawks surprised but then waves her fist angrily. "Wha- THEN WHY ARE YOU YELLING AT ME?!"

Grey waves his arms out ironically the same. Shouting at the same volume. "BECAUSE YOU STILL COULD HAVE DIED!!"

They argued to Grey's floor, Eve held the door open for them to keep yelling at top volume, even departing.

Eve lightly places a hand on her heart, and the other waves away from her. "LOOK!! I'M FINE!! SO LEAVE IT FOR NOW!!" She didn't look fine, but it might have been the adrenaline that was still running through her.

Grey just left it at that, so that they could stop standing around arguing. "Your- you- grr... FINE! But be ready for tomorrow, because you're not leaving my sight till further notice." He practically growled the whole time with his teeth grinding in frustration.

Grey had a deadly presence to him. Anger, now brooding on their whole fight. His voice was raspy and snarling as if he were a wild animal. His eyes were cold yet so full of anger. A look any other agent, or anyone besides Eve, would be cowering terrified. She wasn't and had never been afraid of her partner. Besides his order for her to leave Japan, nothing he did intimidated her.

Eve scoffs, and then shouts at Grey, mimicking him as a child would. "FINE! I've had enough of you nagging for one night. I need to check on Sam. Goodnight...." She mumbled a lot quieter. Then, Eve stopped holding up the doors, and she crossed her arms annoyed. At least she can get Grey off her back now.

Grey realized something after her last statement and turned facing the elevators again. "Oh-? W- wait!" Grey lunges quickly and catches the door from almost closing. He instantly slides it back open, to Eve's discretion.

Eve looks at him surprised. But, Eve then became annoyed and snapped. "What?!"

Grey doesn't snap back, but his voice drew out a bit sorrowful again. "Sam... will see your bruises and will know something happened. You're still hurt."

As if she had forgotten, Eve took a beating. "Oh, right..." Eve assumed, Grey could tell she doesn't like worrying Sameer. She had almost forgotten about her visible injuries.

Grey turns back around. He doesn't look away but just starts walking. "...Quickly, I'll just patch you up, then be done with for tonight."

Eve steps out of the elevator and follows Grey. Grey stops halfway through the hall, and Eve halts suddenly. Eve didn't know what room, or even floor until now.

Grey unlocks his door and holds the door out for Eve. Eve looked around when entering. Of course, there was a lot of grey. But, most of his furniture was white and black, with a grey kitchen, and grey wallpaper.

Eve turns to Grey, also not knowing where to go or sit. She makes light conversation, which didn't really seem appropriate given the circumstances. "Oh. First time being in your apartment. It's nice...."

He wasn't looking to show Eve a house tour. He just wanted the quickest place to patch his partner up. Grey walks to his kitchen and searches a cabinet under his sink. Grey spoke as he was occupied with getting her a first aid kit. "Well, thanks... I guess. Here... I'll just sterilize and ice. Cover it with bandages at least for the night. I'm sorry, but please take off your jacket and roll up those er-... weird sleeves..." Grey walks over, looking at Eve again in her torn up disguise.

Eve luckily didn't have many cuts on her body, mostly just lots of bruising all over. Some were open and bleeding slightly. First responders only cleaned her face up and checked her for anything severe. Yet, after some time Eve's skin opened back up and was bleeding much less than before. It still was enough to be contaminated by the open air. Grey starts by cleaning up Eve's face. He tries to move to Eve's jaw, lightly turning her head. Something loud pops, and she sneers in pain.

"Jeez...." Grey sighs, now just ghosting his hand over Eve's jaw to check her. "Are you sure you're okay...? We can check with a doctor if you might have a concussion..."

Eve closed one eye cringing from the sudden pain. It wasn't that bad compared to her injuries, however. "Yeah, I'm fine. Things are just throbbing like crazy."

Grey tiredly scoffed at his partner. It was her reckless decisions that got her hurt. "Seriously, be more careful next time. I was this close to running in there after you at so many points, but with backup, and you causing a ruckus-... Please, Eve. Just don't try that again." He sighed, and moped the last part, looking away.

Eve jumps up from her seat, and cheers happily. "I will~!"

Grey takes hold of Eve's chin lightly, then tries to speak. "Hold your face still... you're making this difficult." Something, or someone, was making it much harder to clean her up as she moved around.

Eve moves from Grey's hand and attempts to grab the antiseptic, and gauze from him. "Hehehe, I'll just do it. You're tickling me too much, with how gentle you're being."

Grey huffs, pulling the cotton and kit away from Eve. "Well, I was TRYING to make sure it didn't sting too much."

Eve rolls her eyes at Grey, and chuckles doubtfully. "Heh, please... I just got ganged up in a fight to save a girl, I've dealt with machines knocking me down so many times, and rebels have cornered me before. A little bit of stinging is nothing, and you can do whatever you need..."

Eve then closes her eyes, sitting as still as she could with her lips relaxed, and head tilted upwards. Of course, she's positioning her head still so she can get help cleaning the bleeding on her face. Grey took a moment, observing her soft yet bruised features. He spends a moment longer looking at her hurt cheek, her cut lips, and her heavy lashes that covered her eyes.

Then, Grey goes back to thoroughly cleaning and dressing Eve's wounds. He puts a patch on her cheek, and leaves the one on her lip, hoping she won't open it anymore. Grey keeps his hand under Eve's chin, looking at her fair face contrasted with smeared makeup, and dark welts under cuts and bruises. Eve had been through a lot tonight.

Grey suddenly gets up and walks off to the other side of the room with the first aid. "Oh- okay. Get some rest, and we'll talk in the morning...." And with that, they were finished.

Eve didn't seem to mind her cautious partner, and sees herself out. She turns and a small smirk forms on one side of her face. "Thanks, Grey. I'll use a healing water when I get back. Goodnight...."

Eve walked up the stairs slowly at her own pace. She passed a few floors till she got to hers, and thought. She wondered how the mission would have gone differently. She didn't know if what she did was good, or bad.

Eve opens her door and Sam is right there to greet her. Before he could really tell, Eve instantly greets him, a bit raspy and tired even though she was being cheerful. "Hey Sam... I kind of had a crazy day, but I'm alright! Got in a bit of a fight with an enemy but we got him." She smiled at Sameer while watching for his reaction.

Eve sits down so she could pet Sameer's head. He suddenly got on his back two legs and sat upwards and onto Eve's shoulders gently. He licks Eve's face and one of her hands that was bandaged from being cut by some broken glass.

"Sam?!- hehe, ahaha! Stop, that tickles! Haha, cut it out! I'm alright Sam, I'm right here, all in one piece!" Eve smiles and brings her furry friend into a big hug.

A lot has happened since Eve became an agent, and Sam still couldn't get past when Eve was hurt. He couldn't stand it if Eve were to get hurt as bad, or worse than tonight's fiasco. Sameer's never seen her so beaten up. But, she was still smiling, and still alright. Still there to greet Sam, wake up with, and eat with. Sameer is happy, and relieved he gets to experience it all, for another day, and more. Eve was right there after all, and all that mattered was that they were together again. 

[r6shippingdelivery]

A high-res image of Harry’s new board just dropped, and I’m gonna analyse and transcribe as many of the notes as I can. There are parts I couldn’t decypher, so if you want to zoom in the image yourself and help me fill out the blank, I’d me more than grateful!

Under a cut cause it’s going to be a really long post.

The yellow post it above everything else says: The most practical application of my skills is to determine who works best with who. I eliminated interpersonal friction as best as I could so we can move forward efficiently.

We see that some of the names in the teams are circled in red, probably the ones who cause interpersonal friction... with the team leader, I assume? Below, I’m gonna detail the operators in each team, followed by the text on the first note (written by Harry, presumably), and at the end the text of the note under the picture of each team leader (this one signed by Zero).

Thermite’s team

Kaid Gridlock Tachanka Fuze Kapkan Buck Sledge Ash Oryx Thorn Goyo Amaru

Harry’s note: Some profiles are best suited for high-risk missions, and I’m not one to keep people from their calling. [REDACTED] is the cavalry - caution thrown to the wind get the job done at any cost

Zero’s note: Trace is motivated, and he’s seen more explosions than most, the years have been good to him despite going through hell and back. This squad needs to be led by a bad motherfucker

Hibana’s team

Thatcher Alibi Blackbeard (in red) Mute Dokkaebi Jäger Echo Jackal Blitz Maestro Kana/Flubber (hint of a new operator?) Mira Rook

Harry’s note: Members of [REDACTED] are the careers. A wide range of skill sets can be adapted to any scenario. They can lead their own missions or they can assist one of the other squads as required

Zero’s note: Imagawa is a (??) soldier and a fantastic leader. She’s been a reliable player in the past. I think it’s time we put her connections to good use and I’m sure she’d agree

Doc’s team

Lion (in red) Clash Montagne Twitch Nomad Bandit Frost Ying Castle (in red) Thunderbird Melusi

Harry’s note: A humanitarian unit was an idea I had a long time ago and I’m glad to have found a (??) that fits the bill. [REDACTED]  will be perfect for sensitive operations where collateral is not an option.

Zero’s note: Illegible

Caveira’s team

Maverick Vigil Zofia (in red) Lesion Valkyrie Glaz Nokk Warden Iana Mozzie Zero Flores

Harry’s note: Every good organization needs a covert espionage unit and for us it’s [REDACTED]. Caveira’s team is the best in the world at infiltration, surveillance, intelligence and elimination.

Zero’s note: Illegible

We have confirmation that all these ops joined Nighthaven traitors. I numbered the notes so you can follow better what Harry is talking about. Let’s begin with the missing image, then IQ, Finka, Smoke, Kali, and last Pulse.

1) I should have known something was up with Ela. I hoped that serving together would remind the sisters of their better years but I guess some wounds don’t heal with time…

2) IQ has been enamored with Nighthaven’s technology since she returned from Singapore. Kali no doubt knows how to dazzle her (??) prospect.

3) I can only assume that during her time on Kali’s team Finka formed some bonds with Nighthaven’s agents. She had everything she needed here but maybe she saw something more there.

*Doesn’t Harry know about her illness? Or didn’t even cross his mind that she’s desperate to find a cure, and the lure of high tech resources might have swayed her?

4) I don’t think Smoke was unhappy with us, but I think his philosophies might have aligned better with his new home. Thatcher is not so hopeful. He won’t say it, but he is torn up over this.

5) Cohen is taking this loss heavy, saying she saw this coming. She doesn’t want to question your judgement, but she’s worried that letting Nighthaven tamper with the Program will affect not just our organization, but the world out there - Zero  

*Actually, I think Ash has every right to question Harry’s judgement since he dismissed her worries multiple times, and lo and behold, she was right. I bet she’s also right this time and NH are bad news being out there freely

6) Pulse is one I did not see coming but I understand. He’d lost his sense of wonder and he saw that (??) in Nighthaven. I’ll have to see how Hibana is doing.

We see a spread of newspaper cut-outs, indicating unrest and crime are on the rise.

Yellow note: Zero’s pet project is slowly enlisting the aid  of (??) specialists. The associations that he’s making aren’t self-evident. I’m not supposed to ask too many questions… that’s the deal he keeps reminding me of. I just hope he won’t exploit R6 resources for this work (??)…

Report under the note: With your permission, Harry, I would like to send Flores out on a (covered part) suggests white collar crime is on the rise worldwide, and he’s confident there’s a syndicate (covered part). I’ll be monitoring his activity Specialist Ryad “Jackal” Ramirez Al-Hassar

Note: If we want to connect with the world, we should find suitable partners in different fields.Yakate Date Security is a candidate that comes to mind, with everything being online these days. I know someone close to Yakate himself. Let me know if you want to make contact Specialist Yumiko “Hibana” Imagawa

Given the content of the note, the redacted passport from a Japanese woman has to be Azami, confirmed to be the new operator for Season 1. No further references about that Kana/Flubber, but since that operator is placed in Hibana’s team, and some leaks talked about a hole-blocker operator named flubber, I wonder if that was Azami’s work-in-progress name and they just forgot to change it?

I’m very curious about the tank schematic, but since it’s placed next to that robot thing that is Osa’s trademark, I think it’s related to this next report:

Note: Harry, you asked me to dig and I did. Here is what I have on Nighthaven’s base. Schematics, location, aerial, vehicles… It’s not perfect but it’s all I could obtain - legally Specialist Meghan “Valkyrie” Castellano

It seems Harry is worried enough about NH that he wants intel about everything possible. More hints about them being a problem Rainbow will have to face and neutralize, imo.

The picture seems to be a teaser of the upcoming map, the Emerald Plains club/lounge. Confirmed by Kaid’s note:

In all my years I’ve seen many countries, but few felt like home. It’s not my Fortress, but this destination in Ireland has proven reliable in the past. It’s a nice place to unwind. Jalal “Kaid” El Fassi

We have a lot of tech stuff here! Thorn’s razorblooms up top, then a heavy mechanized armor with GIGN on the chest - so we can safely assume it’s a sneak peek of Montagne’s upcoming elite. Then there’s the Kóna stations and the “healing pods” they carry, plus a yellow note with some chemical compound. We also have Flore’s ratero drone, and a schematic of Azami’s knives. The round green gadget eludes me; at first I thought it could be Wamai’s magnets, but he’s not part of Rainbow, and Mira would have no reason to tinker on that gadget?

The note pinned between Monty’s suit and the not-Wamai’s gadget reads:  I enjoyed the games but I’m taking a break from the field. There’s a lot of work ahead and I need to make sure our gear is still top of the line. If we ever encounter something like Nighthaven out there, I don’t want our specialist to worry they’ll be outgunned.  (Covered) need me I’ll be in my lab Dr. Elena “Mira” Alvarez, director of R&D

And this is all I could get, if I missed anyting, or you have decyphered some of Zero’s notes, or have any other info, please add onto this post!!

[kayssweetdreams]

A Wonderous Christmas Ch 5

The two Craigs staired down at the letter in Leo's hand, still processing what happened. "Well...what do you think is in there?" Leo asked. "I...guess the only way to find out is to just open it up." Alice said. With the upmost caution, Leo carefully opened the flap of the letter, and found a very extravagant invitation inside. Leo read the invite out loud

"To my dearest friends.

I Balan would like to, with great delight, give you this holiday invite, For The Balan Theater invites you, to our yearly holiday party, that we always do. Wonder and fun awaits inside, for the holiday spirit is not to hide, And if you so Inquire You may bring your family members if you so desire.

May I see you there, With a merry 'Ho Ho Ho!'

Signed Balan, Wonderworld's Positive Maestro."

The two of them looked at eachother when Leo stopped reading the note. Balan was throwing a holiday party? "Well...I wasn't expecting that." Leo said. "Maybe we should go, it could be fun!" Alice said in a excited voice. Leo shrugged "Well, I guess I am kinda curious." He said. "Although, the date does say 'in 5 minutes'"

Alice didn't mind however "I say we go! I haven't seen the Balan Theater during the holidays!" She said. "Well we better get ready then!" Leo said. Alice nodded as she went to go and find a good party outfit, but Leo was stuck where he stood. While he was happy to be invited to the party, he STILL didn't get to ask about what Alice might want.

'Maybe Balan can help...he was her friend too after all' Leo thought. The sound of a phone ringing got Leo out of his thoughts. The blonde haired boy picked it up, curious as to who could he calling him before the party. "Hello?" He asked "Hey Leo! It's Emma! Did you get an invitation to Balan's party too?" Emma asked over the line. "Yeah I did, A few minutes ago actually!" He replied

"Yay! Mei, Rebecca, Trisha Jane and Kaylo got one too! So we're gonna see them at the party! By the way, did you ask your mom what she wanted yet?" Emma asked. Leo didn't reply to that for a while "Erm...Not exactly?" He said, though it sounded more like a question "Leo, you have to think of something!" Emma reminded "I know, I was gonna ask Balan when we got to the party." He told her

"Alright, Well you better make sure your mom doesn't know what you're doing, or else it might spoil the surprise." Emma told him. "Gotcha, I'll see you guys at the party!" Leo told her before hanging up. Leo sighed at his situation before he went to go put on some party clothes fitting for a Holiday party.

A few moments later, Leo and his parents, were all ready for the party. However, there was still one factor they DIDN'T factor in..."Um, Mom? Dad? How are we gonna get to the theater with all the snow in the way?" Leo asked. His dad, Harold Craig was lucky that he even got BACK to the apartments with the now careening down. "That...I don't know." He said.

Leo then saw that the invitation was beginning to glow a bright gold, and the front of it had gained writing that read

"To make transport to the party sweeter, Just hold the invite, and you'll appear in the theater."

The three looked confused, but they didn't have any other option. The three held a part of the invite, and quicker than you can say "Showtime" they vanished into sparkling dust. With nothing but small wooden dolls of them in their place.

Meanwhile, With the Craigs...

Leo found that he was NEVER going to use Balan's mode of transportation ever again. What the invite meant was a small wormhole through space, time and the thin fabric of reality itself. However, Inside of said wormhole, was what it would feel like if Balan had the hiccups, and didn't cure them Inside. Leo felt his body get torn apart, turned into particles, and then transform into random items.

The same could be said with his mom and dad, as they were random shifted from young, to baby alien, to pot roast, to shuffled up human, and then back again. Leo hoped that it would end, and then miraculously, his plea was answered. A light at the end of the wormhole was seen, as it spat the family onto a red velvet carpet. Leo struggled to get his bearings back, when he heard a familiar voice

"Hello dear Leo! Happy Holidays! It's nice to see you here at the Holidays Soirée!"

Mei belongs to @sundove88

Rebecca belongs to @thehypercutstudios/@thehyperrequiem

Trisha Jane belongs to @lovelyteng

[turnaroundroundround]

Opera References in Musical Yuukoku no Moriarty Op. 2

Some thoughts of mine after re-watching Morimyu Op. 2, regarding Irene's arc A Scandal in British Empire, about all the opera references and some random thoughts that come to mind during this arc. Obviously there's a lot more to Morimyu Op. 2, for instance The Two M's and Mycroft's solo (which I often refer to as "the Mycroft Anthem" lol), the entire Baskerville arc, and the train arc, and so on. And there's a whole lot of other things I'd like to discuss about them as well, but maybe just save it for another time. I don't know if anyone has discussed these references before, and I am not entirely a pro in music either. All I have is some basic knowledge on opera and harmony, so these are just some personal impression that came to mind when I watched this arc, so please keep it in mind.

A SCANDAL IN BRITISH EMPIRE

Okay, so the biggest motivation for this post is, obviously, the music throughout the entire Scandal arc. It is heavily influenced by opera, partly because Irene herself is an opera singer, partly also because the masquerade ball itself is also a perfect stage for an opera to be shown. And the opera was not simply brought in to make the music sound good, but also utilising the plot of the opera itself to create more depth and color to the musical. About Opera during the 19th Century Some side notes. Opera has originated and developed from various different kinds of stage ever since the Greek and Romans. I'm not going into details but anyway, by the 19th Century, it's still somewhat of a luxury that is mostly meant for nobles and people with high status. There are millions of stories about nobles coming to the theatre only to enjoy the music and not the play itself, or not really watching anything but waiting to see their favourite opera singer. Like when the other things in the play are going on, they stay in there box or hang out with other nobles, playing cards and all, and when their favourite singer makes her debut, they come to the front of the box and watch her. Then they return to their games when she exits. All the luxuries. Opera is really something that is meant for nobles and those with nothing but time and money on their hand back then. And another thing is (with an image that I quickly searched on Google just now lol) back them before any stages there is always a pit for the orchestra to be in. They are just below the stage so that the music can still reach the audience as equally, but also low enough that they aren't in the way of the audience's view.

By the way, the role of the conductor and stage director back then was somewhat a blur (if I remember it correctly), as the music writer would very often himself direct the entire stage and become the conductor on the performance day. In case something goes wrong, such as actors need more time to adlib, then he knows how to direct the orchestra to play accordingly. It's quite a small detail, but in Op. 3 Liam also refers to himself (yes this is still about Yuumori lol) as the maestro, somewhat very similar to the role of the conductor himself. This reference, as we can see, shows Liam's role behind the scene conducting all the plots and instructions. It's quite a small detail I think, but also quite interesting

By the way, the leading singer, or Prima Donna (as they call Irene), are always sopranos. And the same goes for Irene Adler, all of her songs were written to highlight her soprano voice, like in 大作戦ーDaisakusen or her song with Ms. Hudson

An example from a song that I was reminded of when listening to Cecile!Irene. Of course there are many other songs we can talk about, this is just one of the examples.

Obviously, Irene's song aren't entirely like classical opera songs. They were all arranged to both highlight the opera feature, but also to suit the form of the musical and all the while showing Irene's elegant and gracious manners of a prima donna, and also showing her playful side especially during her duet with Sherlock.

YAMI NO OPERA - DON GIOVANNI BEHIND THE CURTAIN

To understand Don Giovanni references, it's essential to understand the story behind the original opera by Mozart. That being said, the actual plot of the story is quite long and contains so many details it's almost impossible to fit all of them into one post while also comparing them with the one in Morimyu, so this is a link to a more detailed synopsis of the opera. Or you can also read more on wiki. I'll just give some basic details that are referenced and discussed in this post. Overall impression: This opera revolves around a playboy that flirts with women, but lacking in loyalty and commitment to keep any of his promises to them. By the end of the play, after all the sin he has committed, Don Giovanni is engulfed in hell's fire, and punished for his sin. It is very much similar to the story in Morimyu, nobles relying on their wealth and status and have the freedom to do anything as they want, without having to worry about having to bear the consequence. Because of the difference in power and status, it is almost impossible to punish all of them, therefore having a need of a "demon" to punish them with powers that no human have - the role of Moriarty gang within the play.

In this arc, Liam is "directing" a play that is inspired by Don Giovanni. His audience is Irene Adler (and of course us who is watching the entire thing), and the main character is Lorinson who ends up being punished for his crime. Mozart's Don Giovanni is being performed on stage, but at the same time Liam's "Don Giovanni" happens, in the back stage. What we are watching as the main stage is actually the "back stage" of the real story.

In the original play, Don Giovanni was a playboy that flirts with many women. At the beginning of the play, he flirts with a woman called Donna Anna, and her father tried to defend his daughter. They got involved in a duel and Don Giovanni killed the man. Donna Anna mourns and wish to avenger her father.

In Morimyu, the story of Lord Lorinson (pardon me for not knowing both the translation of his title and his name) is added in spite of the original plot in the manga. As far as my Japanese comprehension goes, the story is that Lord Lorinson is also one that uses his status to abduct other women to his pleasure, and ends up treating them poorly.

At one point, a woman came to the Lord of Crime, saying that her daughter has been murdered by the noble and mourns her. She wishes for revenge, and Liam proceed to do so.

Don Giovanni - Act I Finale

During Moran and Louis' fight with Raymond(?), in the section behind the stage we can see the opera theatre with the Finale song going on. The ensemble is still singing as the fight goes on behind them.

In the Finale of Act 1 here, the section that was insert into Morimyu was rather short, and was meant for a dramatic effect than actually showing what's happening in the original opera anyway. But anyway, we can see that as the fight proceeds, the curtain behind also slowly closes, ending the first Act of the opera.

It's clearer here. We can see that as they are fighting there is an entire opera going on at the back. The fact that the ensemble has their back to the audience emphasises how everything we're seeing are all in the backstage, but at the same time it proceeds alongside with all the events in the "mainstage". It's quite a powerful image.

At one point in the opera, Don Giovanni attends a party where he met one of his previous lovers that he betrayed. Then there's some talking and such and more betrayal, and somehow he then decides that he would also flirt with his ex's maid.

There isn't much that I have to say with this reference in the play, only that it is actually Fred disguising as a maid for the purpose of carrying out the plan and scared the sh*t out of Lorinson lol

I couldn't catch all the details from their conversation, but apparently Fred did some kind of stand-in again as the victim who was murdered by Lorinson, also to provoke him and lead him into Liam's trap?

At the end of the opera, Don Giovanni was cornered by the 'devil', drowning him in the flames of hell. However before that happens, the women that Don Giovanni once flirted with (as well as Donna Anna whose father was murdered by Don Giovanni) gathered, chasing after Leporello - Don Giovanni's servant - who exposed him of his guilts and sins.

The song that the women sung in this scene is "Ah, dov'e il perfido?", and there is a very small section at the end of the song that was kind of re-arranged and added to Morimyu. In Morimyu, this is the scene when Lorinson is exposed of what he is done, after that being "punished" by the devil. There is also a scene in the play when Liam mentions 地獄の炎 - Jigoku no Hono (The Flames of Hell) which is a direct reference from the original Don Giovanni. In fact, what he has been telling Lorinson is the story of Don Giovanni and how he ends up being punished - only that when Lorinson realised that, it's already too late.

(A reference from the song in the original play, the section that is used in Morimyu is actually quite short, only starting from around 5:40 within the song in this video)

In Yami no Opera, the song is arranged with Liam's part of the melody above the entire harmony. So it is indeed a proper opera that "Liam" has based on re-arranged to carry out his plan.

While Don Giovanni is happening on stage, there is also another "Don Giovanni" being punished by the devil - Lorinson. We hear part of the original song from the ensemble in the background, and also Liam's version of the punishment along with Lorinson's struggle. And at the same time the ensemble does seem to be focusing on "Don Giovanni" - all of them looking towards Liam's and Lorinson's position. A really impressive scene.

And after that very short section, the play goes on, returning their focus back to Irene Adler and Albert's conversation. There is no "Flames of Hell" erupting in any ways except for Liam's really strong section of the Yami no Opera song. And there's no need for it, I think, as Lorinson has never been the real protagonist like Don Giovanni. Liam only made him a temporary "protagonist" and not solely for the purpose of exposing him, but only as a mean to show Irene the true identity of the Lord of Crime. So there is no point making it more dramatic than it already is.

So...

That's pretty much all that I have to say about Don Giovanni and opera's reference, I think?

Well another thing, maybe, is how much I love the instrumental arrangement for violin and piano in Morimyu. They don't have the privilege of having an entire orchestra, but instead they did as much as they could for the instruments so that they recreate the original opera vibe as well as they possibly can. And the result is, just, extraordinary.

Anyhow, I've heard many of my friends comparing the songs from Op. 2 and Op. 3, seeing that Op. 3 has more of a "flow" in between the songs as all of them were written with harmony such that they have a certain connection to each other.

Not that Op. 2 doesn't do the same thing. However the second Opus does feel more separated, I think, since the music in the 3 different arcs are much more different. For instance the Baskerville arc has a "hunting" vibe to it, describing Moriarty gang's plan to bring down the nobles' game of hurting children, while the final Scandal arc revolves around an opera singer and mostly happens within a masquerade ball. So there is a big difference between the scenes, and obviously a big difference in the music brought to them as well.

Aaaand, that's pretty much all the details I've picked up (and remembered lol) up to this point.

Anyway, I've been watching and re-watching all 3 Opus of Morimyu many times, each time firguring out something else that I haven't noticed before. So if I end up realising some other details within this arc, maybe I'll come back and add to this post.

Thank you for reading ヽ(・∀・)ﾉ

Also, thank you @rikaaki for these beautiful gifs(☆▽☆)

[gotnofucks]

My Little Girl - 2

Pairing: dark!Tony Stark x reader , slight dark!Steve x reader

Summary: Prince Tony has taken you, but keeping you proves more difficult that he imagined.

Words: 3.4k

Warning: Breeding Kink, DUB-CON, Smut, 18+ ONLY

A/N: Uh…seems to be turning into a series.

Read the first part here  

Part 3

MASTERLIST

——--—————————————————–

You were laying before the royal physician, the old man poking your stomach. Prince Tony stood behind him, refusing to wait beyond the privacy screen. The physician took your wrist in his hand, taking your pulse and waited. Finally, he let your hand fall and shook his head at the prince.

“I’m sorry Your Highness, she is not with a child.” He said to your relief and Tony’s vexation.

The Prince had claimed you for his own months ago, hoping to get you pregnant so he could convince his parents to break royal protocol and marry you. However, you had not conceived till now and his patience was thinning.

Princess Pepper of the neighboring kingdom was living in the palace with them, already betrothed to the Prince. Their wedding loomed closer with each passing day, and your childless womb prevented the Prince from breaching the topic of your nuptials with the King and Queen. Without the excuse of an heir, it would be impossible for the kingdom to accept a mere maid as their princess. As fearful as you were of public ostracization as a ruined woman, you were still relieved you didn’t have to marry the prince. It was a wonder how you hadn’t conceived yet, since Tony was insatiable, taking you multiple times every day. While he would partake in the pleasure of your mouth, he would always release in your cunt, holding his seed inside with his cock and fingers.

Tony came closer to you and took your hand in his, kissing it softly.

“Don’t worry my little girl, it will happen soon enough.” He assured you, one hand caressing your cheek. Then he turned to the physician who looked at you both with disapproval. “What is wrong with her? Is she sick?” Is she barren?

You and the physician both heard the unsaid question in his voice, and you felt both relived and dejected when the physician shook his head.

“Your Highness, the maid is –”

Before the poor man could utter another word, Tony’s sword was at his throat threatening to end his life.

“This is the last time I’ll remind you to not call her that. She is your future queen; you’ll address her with the respect due to her!” Tony thundered and the physician blanched in fear, nodding aggressively. You touched Tony’s hand and he looked at you, softening slightly before pulling away his sword. The old physician cleared his throat before continuing.

“As I was saying Your Highness, the lady is fertile and healthy. It seems something else is the matter for which she can’t conceive.”

“Are you telling me that my seed is sterile?” Tony asked in a hard voice and the old physician scrambled in desperation, shaking his head in negation.

“No, Your Highness, you and the lady are both in perfect health. However, other aspects may affect her childbearing abilities. Stress, physical exhaustion, food intake also affects a lady’s health.”

“And how do I make sure she’s fit to take my seed?”

“Your Highness, if I may be bold enough to say, I will urge you to desist. Your union is not sanctified by holy matrimony, and a child out of wedlock would bring nothing but misfortune to the kingdom.” The old man seemed to almost tremble as he finally said what had been on his mind since Tony first consulted him about you. It was not unheard of for royals to take pleasure in lowly servants, but to think of marrying one and having a child was blasphemous. The physician was loyal to the court and to the King, and if the Prince didn’t take his advice, he was determined to go to the King himself.

Tony’s eyes flashed and he stepped close to him, invading his space. Nose to nose, the young prince’s gaze bore into the old man’s, rage and challenge lightening them.

“You are the royal physician, so you already know the truth about my father’s health. How long do you think he’ll live, huh? How long until I take over the throne? Do you really want to cross your future king right now?”

His voice was deceptively soft and calm, and even you shuddered though the threat wasn’t directed at you. With the sure way he spoke of His Majesty’s health, you wondered if he had something to do with it. It was clear to the servants that King Howard Stark would have preferred any other son to Prince Tony, and only the interference of the Queen kept peace between them. Blasphemous though it was to even think such a thought, you would not put it past the Prince to commit treason. When Tony wanted something, he got it, consequences be damned.

The royal physician quivered in his feet, his aged and saggy face showing his inner turmoil. Finally, accepting that he would rather live a long life than a loyal one, he bowed to the Prince.

“My apologies Your Highness. I’ll prepare some herbs for the lady to help increase her chances at conception.”

Tony nodded and dismissed him, turning his attention back to you, sitting on the bed and leaning down to kiss you softly. You kissed back out of habit, not knowing what would happen to you now. Tony’s wedding with Princess Pepper was just around the corner, and you hoped that it would take place before you got with a child. Polygamy was not permitted under the laws of this kingdom, and even if you bore a child, The Prince could never marry you as long as Princess Pepper lived. You could run away to some far land where no one knew you, maybe salvage the rest of your remaining life somehow.

“My little girl, you need not worry.” Tony said, smoothing the frown that had appeared between your brows. He could be so tender and kind, that you almost felt bad about leaving him. But then you remembered that he controlled your life, every move you made was under his supervision. Not only had he snatched you from your family and kept you hidden in his own chambers, he took away your choice and honor. Even if you managed to escape his clutches, you will never be a respected woman.

Tony traced your face with his finger, leaning over you to place kisses over your neck and chest. You squirmed, your hands fisting his tunic as he pulled down the neckline of your dress and exposed your bosom. He flicked his tongue over your buds, watching them harden in the open air. You moaned softly when his hand reached between the folds of your dress, finding your core drenched.

“I will make sure you take my seed. You will bear my heirs; you’ll grow round with them. Your breast will leak and nurse them, and you’ll beg me to do it again and again.” His words were whispered to different parts of your body: your breasts and stomach and cunt. You couldn’t help your reaction to him, The Prince played your body like a maestro plays his instrument.

Your heart beat a staccato in your chest, breath getting sharper as your bare body met his and tangled in a dance of sweat and sweet sweet pleasure. Tony entered you in a long hard thrust making you arch your back and took your mouth in a possessive kiss.

“Tell me what I want to hear” He said.

“I am yours Tony. I belong to you my Prince.” You parroted as always and he rewarded you by mashing your nub between his thumb and finger, making you mewl in pleasure. You panted in his mouth, your hands around his neck and your fingers digging into his flesh.

Tony suddenly pulled out of you and flipped you on your back, pulling your ass up in the air. He thrust inside you from behind, his body curving over yours and hitting new angles. Your whines echoed across the chamber and you wondered for the hundredth time how no one knew you were here, or if they did and just didn’t care.

“Look at you, taking me so well. No one makes me this hard. Only you my little girl, only you. Soon we’ll have our brethren squealing around us, a family of my own.” He kissed your back before sucking your neck and marking you as his. One of his hands travelled down and found your nub again, and with a few expert tweaks the bubble inside you burst, your heat washing over Tony’s cock. He hissed in pleasure when you clamped around him, your softness making his balls tighten and release their load deep inside you. You dropped down on the bed, limp and spent. Tony’s weight crushed you before you whined and he rolled to the side, taking you with him.

He held your sweaty body flush to his, both your hearts beating fast and breaths coming down to normal. You curled into his warmth, the only time you allowed yourself to actually feel close to him. He was a cruel man, but he tried his best to never hurt you. When he lay with you, he made sure you got your pleasure. It seemed important to him that you enjoy it as much as he did.

You looked up at him with sleepy eyes and found his gaze already locked on you. He tipped your chin and kissed you slowly, savoring every second of it. Kisses like these scared you the most, for somehow, they felt more intimate than the act you had just done with him. Every time he kissed you like this, you allowed yourself to love him for that small time and it scared you more than anything else.

“I’ll make sure you’re my wife. Even if you aren’t with child until the wedding, you’ll still be mine. I’ll make it happen.” Tony said, tucking your head in the crook of his neck and pressing another kiss on your head.

“What about His Majesty? And Princess Pepper?” You asked softly, playing with the spattering of hair on his chest. A round scar was proudly displayed in the middle, a testament to his bravery where he almost died in a battle.

“I don’t care what they think. I promised you that I won’t abandon you and I am a man of my word. You’ll be my wife even if I have to rewrite the laws of the kingdom myself.”

You sat up at his words, looking at him with worry and trepidation in your heart.

“Tony, what have you done?” You asked softly and he signed, pulling you close and resting his head in the valley of your breast.

“Don’t worry about anything. You just look after yourself. No more stress for you, you heard what the physician said. You take your herbs and think about being my wife.”

You knew he wouldn’t say anymore on the subject, and you were too scared of the answer to push for more. Only the King had the power to rewrite the laws, and Tony couldn’t be king unless his father died. You ran a shaky hand through his hair, wondering how much he was willing to lose and sacrifice to have you.

“Y/n?” Tony asked, his voice heavy with sleep. You hummed and kept caressing his hair, lulling him deeper into his slumber. “Do you love me as much as I love you?”

His question made your hand still for just a moment before it started carding through his soft hair again.

“I care for you My Prince” You said but you didn’t know if he heard you, his sleeping body curled around yours and head resting over your heart.

 —————————————————-

You twisted in the sheets, your body writhing in agony, a hand putting pressure to your throat. You clawed in the air, choking over a cry, eyes searching the darkness for him who’s hands were kind and gentle. The pressure increased and your breath escaped you, your body seizing in on itself and falling limp.

You woke up with a start, your hand flying to your throat in fear. The dream felt too real and you turned to see Tony’s side of the bed empty. Your heartbeat was unnaturally fast, and you stumbled out of the bed to pour yourself a glass of water. The pitcher was empty, and your dry throat burned with need of cool liquid to sooth it. You wanted to ring the bell beside the bed to call a maid in, but you were supposed to be a secret until the Prince convinced his parents to allow your marriage. As far as you knew, only the guards at the entrance knew you were hear and they were loyal to the Prince. They had explicit orders to not let you leave but you figured you could ask them to bring you water.

You opened the ornate doors of the prince’s chamber and poked your head out, the two guards who stood at attention turned to look at you.

“Can you please ask someone to get some water here? I – I would go myself but…” You trailed off, ashamed of being a kept woman. One of the guards nodded and told you to wait inside. You lay back down on the bed, wondering where Tony had gone off too. It was too early for him to be gone.

You heard the door open and assumed the guard had returned with the pitcher of water. You turned your back towards the door, hiding your face inside the sheets.

“Please keep it on the table, thank you very much.” You said and heard feet shuffling. When you didn’t hear them leave, you turned around and saw to your horror Lord Steven Rogers standing there. You gasped and sat up, pulling the sheets to your chin despite begin dressed in a modest nightgown.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, your voice revealing how scared you were. While it was the Prince who coveted you, it was his Lord who terrified you more. The Prince fancied himself in love with you, so you knew his chances of hurting you were little. But Lord Rogers was a different case. Despite knowing you had the Prince’s favor, his eyes wandered over you and made you feel cheaper than any night spent with the prince made you feel.

“Hello, lovely maid. Or should I start calling you My Princess?” He asked, his voice just as mocking and amused as ever.

“What are you doing here? The Prince would not like you being in his chambers alone with me,” you said, thankful your voice came out a little stronger.

Lord Rogers smiled at you, and to your surprise poured you a glass of water and approached you with it.

“You’re under his highness’s protection. I’m making sure you’re comfortable when he’s away.” He said and held the glass out to you. You took it with shaking hands and sipped silently, looking at him with vary eyes.

“You have done your job then, please leave.” You said and he chuckled.

“Oh, look at you, learning to give orders. Is his seed blessed that taking it makes you a royal?”

He was standing too close to you, so much that with another step he would be leaning almost directly over you.

“Please, leave.”

His hand shot out and touched your cheek, making you jerk back in alarm.

“You look so pretty when you beg, lovely maid. I can see now what he sees in you. What wouldn’t I give to have you to myself.” Lord Rogers mused and the moment you saw his hand move you jumped over to the other side of the bed, taking the sheets with you. He didn’t follow like you expected and stayed far with a smirk on his lips.

“Lord Rogers, you must leave now, or I’ll scream”

He shook his head, the golden hair on his head gleaming in the sunlight that filtered through the window.

“I almost feel sorry for you, for the false hopes he’s given you.” He said and leaned against the opposite wall, staring at you. “You are after all innocent in this game, but you will suffer the most.”

“What do you mean?” You asked, looking to the door, and hoping Tony will walk in and rescue you.

“He will not marry you. He can’t, until you are with a child, which you won’t be.”

You looked at him sharply, suspicious clouding your vision.

“How do you know I’m not with child? What do you mean that I won’t be with one?”

Lord Rogers smiled a secret smile, his eyes twinkling in mirth and intrigue.

“My lovely maid, you’re so naïve. Haven’t you heard that even walls have ears? This is the royal palace, and you’re consorting with the prince. You already have many enemies.”

He pushed away from the wall and came for you before you could move. Cornered against the cabinet, he leaned close to you, taking in your scent.

“When he pushes you away, I’ll be waiting with open arms. Unlike him, I’ll actually make you mine.” He said.

He moved away not a second too soon as the doors opened with a bang and Tony swept inside. He looked at your scared, wide eyes before narrowing his gaze at Steve who gave him a small bow. Tony came up to you and took you in his arms, your body pressing into him.

“Steve, what are you doing here?” Tony asked, anger evident in his tone.

“Just bringing your lady some water that she asked for,” Steve replied. Tony looked at you in question and you nodded, burrowing your face in his chest. When it came to the two men, you would always choose the Prince.

“Get out. You’re not to be with her alone.”

Steve nodded and without another glance at you left the chambers. The moment he was gone, Tony fisted your hair and pulled you in a long and arduous kiss, stealing the breath from your lungs.

“What did he really want?” Tony asked and you hugged him tighter.

You almost kept mum, scared that what Lord Rogers said was true and Tony would abandon you and throw you to him. But one look in Tony’s eyes and you knew he was much too possessive to even think about letting you go. So, trusting your gut you told him everything that Steve said.

“My little girl,” Tony said, your face cupped his hands, “tell me you didn’t believe a word that bastard said. I will never leave you.”

You nodded tearfully, snuggling into Tony’s warmth.

“He said I can’t bear your children.” You whispered and Tony grunted in displeasure.

“That’s something I’ll look into. Steve is not under my control anymore. He reports directly to my father, but you don’t worry about that. He’ll not get to you. I’ll kill him if he ever so much as looks at you again, I’ll kill him even if I have to bear my father’s wrath for killing one of his men.”

While Tony tried his best to reassure you of your safety, you wondered how much of that was true. Steve’s words made sense. Your relationship with the Prince must have made you enemies, and you wondered if running away would be a good choice even if you get a chance to do so. Staying with the Prince would guarantee you your life and protection, but if you leave and Steve catches you…you shivered in fear. Even the thought of him putting those hands on you made you sick.

You looked at Tony who was sleeping beside you, one of his hands clasping yours. You realized suddenly that though he may be a Prince, he was still not in control of his own destiny. If the danger you sensed in your heart was true, then not only were you in danger, but the Prince was being conspired against by his own people.

You touched your stomach, your mind going over Lord Roger’s words over and over. The way he said that you can’t bear kids…it made it sound like you couldn’t have Tony’s children, but the physician had said you were both is perfect health. Your head hurt with what that might imply, and you turned to the side, shifting closer to Tony’s warmth. His arms wrapped around you even in his sleep, and you closed your eyes, hoping sleep would claim you.

—————————————–

 TAGLIST IS OPEN FOR ALL CHARACTERS. LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED. 

[erigold13261]

Psychonauts NSR AU

Since you’re getting into the Psychonauts Fandom, I thought of creating an NSR AU, I’ll explain the characters. I’m going by Role-Character. Also I don’t have much for who’ll take DJ SS’s role.

Mayday-Milla Vodello

The Leader of Bunk Bed Junction.

Instrument is Guitar.

Honors Leader of the Rock Band, the Psychic Seven.

Wants to fight NSR by using the power of Rock.

Zuke-Sasha Nein

The Other Leader of Bunk Bed Junction.

Instrument are Drums.

Has some issues with his Dad.

Sayu-Razputin Aquato

Charter of the Akusuka District.

Rather than being a mermaid, he’s a sailor.

Pure Baby.

Instrument is Trident.

Controlled by 4 kids, those being Norma (Artist), Morris (Vocal), Adam (Motion Cap), and Sam (Special Effects).

Yinu-Lili Zanotto

Charter of the Natura District.

Called the Scarlet Maestro of Vinyl City

Also Pure Baby.

Instrument is Piano.

Just wants to play for fun.

Gets along with Raz.

Neon J.-Morceau Oleander

Charter of the Metro Division District.

Theme is more Army Theme than usual.

Part Cyborg.

1010-Caligosto Loboto

Funny Dentist Man takes the role of sexy robots? Yep that works.

There are a total of five of them, the other four are themed after Fred, Gloria, Edgar, and Boyd.

Eve-Hollis Forsythe

Stage name is Lucky.

Charter of the Dream Fever District.

Used to date Sasha where she “Placed Lights in his Hair”.

Tatiana-Ford Cruller

CEO of NSR.

Used to be the leader of The Psychic Seven.

Kliff-Gristol Malik

Fun fact, I originally planned him to take the role of DJ SS, but this fits much better.

__________ OMG I completely forgot this was in my inbox! Sorry!

But yea this sounds really cool! I can also see Otto as Neon J, but  Oleander works just as well! Ford makes more sense as Tatiana BUT wouldn’t it be funny to have him as 1010 with his shattered mind fragment pieces or something? :3

Also Lili as Yinu could be a very fun battle if both Truman and Bob were her manager/guardians or something. The two end up fighting each other and you have to help Lili calm them down or something, idk.

Also, I feel like Helmut would be great in DJSS’s role! They give off similar vibes, at least to me they do!

[king-finnigan]

these four walls (supposed to save you from yourself)

part 1, part 2, part 3. also on AO3. requested by @dibsonsmth

When Jaskier gets invited to play a few songs for the patients of the mental health ward his best friend Triss works at, he doesn't expect much of it. After all, he's just a music teacher with a guitar, the most he can do for these people is to entertain them for a short while.

But then he finds out about Geralt, who's spent the past few months in the ward without even leaving his room, and Jaskier realizes that he might still be able to make a difference, after all.

“It’s not too late to turn back, Jask,” Triss says softly, big, brown eyes regarding him with concern.

He sighs, carding his hands through his hair as he looks in the rearview mirror, trying to fix the tangled mess at least a little bit. Eventually, he gives up and leans back, hands falling limply into his lap where his fingers start drumming a quick staccato on his thighs.

“I know,” he says with a nervous smile. “But it’s just a little bit of stage fright. Nothing to worry about.”

“Are you sure? You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“No, I want to.” He opens the passenger door, getting out of the car and retrieving his guitar from the backseat, carding his sweaty hand through his hair one last time.

It had been Triss’ idea to begin with. At the time, he’d wholeheartedly said yes. Now, though… now he’s not so sure anymore. After all, he doesn’t really know what he can do for these people. They’re all here because they form a danger to either themselves or others. And Jaskier? Well, Jaskier’s just a guy with a guitar.

But Triss takes care of these patients day in day out, surely she wouldn’t have invited Jaskier to come sing for them if she didn’t think it would help.

He sighs again and takes a leap of faith.

The mental health ward occupies the top floor of the hospital, and the lift ride up is quiet and uneventful, though the nervous twang in Jaskier’s stomach only grows as he fiddles with the strap of his guitar case.

Finally, the lift doors open and he and Triss step out into a bright yellow hall, two closed sliding doors separating them from the actual ward. He watches as Triss scans her badge and types in a code, and hurries forward when the doors slide open and she ushers him inside. He watches again when she closes the doors right away.

“Safety precautions,” she clarifies when she sees him looking. “To make sure no one who’s not allowed to leave actually leaves.”

“Ah,” he says sheepishly, shifting from one foot to the other as he turns around to look at the room.

It’s a large, round space, the walls painted yellow and white, large windows letting in the bright sunlight from outside, spilling over the grey linoleum floor and the green couches and chairs that litter the room in small groups, gathered around low coffee tables. There are people sitting here and there, some sharing a table and playing a board game together, others sharing a table as well but sitting in silence – merely enjoying each other’s company, and others sitting all alone, but seemingly content in their solitude. Some are younger, some are older.

And it’s… peaceful. Quiet. Comforting.

He knows that the image people have of mental health wards is quite different from reality, but still, it catches him off-guard.

“It’s still quite early.” He startles at Triss’ voice behind him, breaking the soft lull in the room. “The group therapy sessions start in a few hours, so you’ve got their attention for now.”

He turns back to the room. “And this is everyone?”

She crosses her arms, leaning her shoulder against his. “No, but it is almost everyone. There’s three people missing. Ciri, who’s been restrained because she keeps scratching open her wounds and we don’t have enough staff to keep an eye on her all day. Dara, her best friend – he won’t leave her side, so he’s in her room as well. And Geralt.”

“Right, I’ll pay them a visit as well afterwards.”

She smiles at him. “I’m sure Ciri and Dara would love it, but don’t waste your breath on Geralt, buttercup. Don’t take it personally, he’s not fond of people in general. And he’s quite stubborn in his hatred of others.”

“Really?”

“Hmm. He’s been here a few months already and he’s yet to join a single group therapy session.”

“Well, I’ll see what I can do.” He nudges her, giving her an overexaggerated wink. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll be the one to melt his frosty exterior.”

“Doubt it,” she deadpans. “Now go on, get ready for your performance, maestro. We’re wasting valuable time here.”

---

It goes surprisingly well, the whole thing. Some of the people gather around him as he sings, others content to just stay where they are and listen. He gets a few requests, even, which he is very happy to fulfil.

And before he knows it, two hours have passed, and people start to file out of the room to attend the group therapy sessions.

He doesn’t put his guitar back in its case just yet, though, as he remembers the promise he made to Triss to check up on Ciri and Dara and the ever-grumpy Geralt.

“Knock, knock,” he says, quickly rapping his knuckles against the doorframe, a big smile plastered on his face as he carefully inches into the room. “Am I interrupting?”

There’s a boy and a girl there. The girl is half-lying in bed, her back propped up with several pillows, blonde hair fanning out over the white linen. Her lower arms are wrapped in bandages, the restraints around her wrist binding her to the sides of the bed. The boy is sitting in the chair next to the bed, playing with the sleeves of his too-big shirt, face slightly sunken. Jaskier can’t help but notice how thin his wrists are, and he doesn’t doubt for a second that he could easily fit his thumb and forefinger around them.

Their eyes turn to Jaskier.

“No, it’s fine.” The girl – Ciri, presumably – is the first one to speak. “Are you a new nurse?”

He shakes his head. “I’m Jaskier, I’m…” he lifts his guitar ���…I suppose ‘entertainment’ is the word that fits best here. I just played a few songs in the common room, but I didn’t want to leave you guys bereft. If you want, I can sing something for you.”

Ciri’s smile widens. “Sure! I would love that.” She turns to the boy. “Dara, is that alright with you?” The boy nods.

Jaskier pulls a folding chair from the wardrobe – something Triss told him he would find there – and sits down, gently strumming his guitar once to make sure it’s still in tune. “And what would you like to hear?”

She grins at him. “Happy Together by the Turtles!” she says gleefully, and God, she’s truly precious. Jaskier gets the sneaking suspicion he won’t ever be able to say no to her.

He starts playing.

---

Half an hour later, he finds himself in front of another doorway, this time leading to a darkened room, the sunblind pulled down completely to shroud the space in darkness, casting thin strips of sunlight across the walls and floor. Still, Jaskier can see well enough to spot the man sitting at the far end of the room, in front of a table with a chess board.

“Knock, knock,” Jaskier calls, rapping his knuckles on the doorframe. “You must be Geralt, right?”

The man doesn’t look up but simply lifts his hand to move a chess piece, slowly turning the board around afterwards.

Jaskier clears his throat to break the awkward silence, taking a few steps into the room. “I’m Jaskier. I’m uh… entertainment. I’ve got my guitar with me and I can sing a few songs for you if you want. You just need to ask.”

Now that he’s a bit closer, he can see that Geralt has stark white hair, falling in soft, barely-there waves down to his shoulders, tied back into a half-ponytail. Jaskier resists the urge to check if it’s as soft as it looks.

But from here, he can also see that the man doesn’t even grant him a sideways glance. Quite the opposite; Geralt even seems to turn away from Jaskier the closer he gets, giving him the cold shoulder.

“Are you sure there’s no song you want to hear? If you can’t decide, I can pick out something for you, perhaps.”

There’s no movement from Geralt, he’s as still as a statue as his eyes keep drilling holes into the chess board. It’s too dark for Jaskier to see the colour of those irises, but they’re certainly light, and in the back of his mind he ponders how splendid they would probably look in the sunlight.

The silence stretches on. Geralt moves a chess piece. Turns the board.

“As uh… charming as you are, my dearest Geralt, I do wanna know what type of music you like, so I can sing something for you.”

Geralt balls his hands into tight fists on the table. His shoulders grow tense.

He still doesn’t say a word, but Jaskier gets the message: Fuck off.

He laughs nervously, fingers drumming on the wood of the guitar. “Right!” he says, forcibly bright. “I see you’re busy, so I won’t continue to disturb you. I’ll be back next week.” He takes a few steps backwards. Geralt still doesn’t acknowledge his presence. “Alright… Bye, then.”

He turns around and walks out of the room, letting out a long breath once he’s back in the bright hallway. That really didn’t go well – but then again, Triss already warned him it wouldn’t.

Doesn’t matter. If Geralt wants to be a grumpy boor, then who is Jaskier to stop him?

But, as he teaches one of his students how to strum a few chords correctly that afternoon, he can’t help but let his mind wander back to that mysterious man with white hair, sitting all alone in that darkened room, playing chess against himself.

---

He’s back two days later. He knows the deal with Triss was that he’d be there once a week, but something draws him back to the place – whether it’s his captive audience, Ciri’s bright smile, Dara’s quiet gratitude, or Geralt’s unreadable silence, Jaskier doesn’t know. He supposes it doesn’t matter.

He takes the elevator back up, shooting Triss a quick text to ask her to open the door for him as he fiddles with the strap of his guitar case, letting his nail dig a path in the soft leather.

Triss greets him the second he steps out of the lift, arms crossed in front of her chest, eyebrow pulled up, eyes glinting with something annoyed and fond she saves especially for Jaskier.

“You know you’re not expected until next week, right?”

He shrugs, scratching the back of his neck. “I know, but I don’t have any plans for the morning, so I figured why not, you know?”

She purses her lips, narrowing her eyes at him before she sighs and relents, waving him inside. “Come on, mister Impatient. Let’s go, then.”

---

“Knock, knock.” He quickly raps on the doorframe, taking a tentative step into the darkened room.

Geralt is sitting at the table again, hunched in on himself as his eyes remain fixed on the chess board. Slowly, he lifts a hand, moving a piece before he slowly turns the board around, propping a fist under his chin, the other arm laid across his lap. Jaskier knows that, were he a drawer or artist of sorts, he would draw Geralt exactly the way he is now: sitting in a dark and empty room, still as a statue in front of the chess board as the sunlight filters through the blinds, painting him in black and white, casting dark shadows and yellow highlights on his face.

But he’s not. He’s a musician, and though he likes to consider himself quite good at what he does, he knows he could never do this image justice.

For now, though, he takes in every little detail and commits it to memory, imprinting it on his mind.

He takes another few steps forward. He’s halfway across the room now. “I know I said I’d be back next week,” he says softly – his normal volume too loud for the stillness of this room. “But I’m back now. Did you think of any songs for me to sing to you?”

Geralt ignores him. He moves a chess piece. Turns the board.

Jaskier sighs, leaning against the wall, idly plucking a few random notes. “Well,” he muses, “if you can’t decide, I suppose I’ll have to decide for you.”

Geralt’s hands ball into fists, his shoulders grow tense. Once again, he’s telling Jaskier to piss off without really saying anything.

This time, though, Jaskier decides to ignore it. If it angers Geralt more, then so be it – as long as he doesn’t outright tell Jaskier to go away, he’s not going anywhere.

He strums a few chords. “How do you feel about ‘Big Yellow Taxi’?” The man on the other side of the room doesn’t answer, doesn’t even deign him worthy of a sideways glance.

So Jaskier starts to sing.

And still, throughout it all, Geralt doesn’t say a word. He moves a chess piece once or twice, turning the board right afterwards, but his head doesn’t even incline towards Jaskier. He doesn’t give him any acknowledgement, any sign that he’s aware Jaskier is there at all.

Jaskier keeps on singing as if Geralt isn’t there, either.

And then the song ends. Jaskier strums the last chord on his guitar, eyes glued to Geralt’s silhouette, tracing the line of every highlight and shadow, following the movement of his muscles and tendons as Geralt lifts a hand, sliding a chess piece across the wood before turning the board again. His face is still, oh so still, the dim light and the bright rays of sunshine streaming through the blinds making it seem as if he’s been hewn from marble, as if he’s a work of art come to life, an ancient Greek statue from the hands of the old masters themselves that’s been granted a beating heart by the gods.

Jaskier could drown in the vision before him.

Light eyes quickly dart to him, the first acknowledgement of his existence since he stepped foot into the room, and suddenly his mind slams back into his body. He’s hyper-aware of every single little thing – of the frantic pounding of his heart, the rushing of blood in his ears, the breath that catches in his lungs when their gazes meet for a split second, the twitching of his muscles as his body desperately tries to tap out his nervousness on his guitar.

For only a second, the world stops spinning.

Geralt looks away again and Jaskier takes a few steps backwards, heat rising to his cheeks and ears as he swallows around the lump in his throat.

“R- right, then,” he stammers. “See you around, Geralt.”

He practically flees from the hospital room.

---

Hours later, his fingers are still trembling with the sheer force and weight of Geralt’s eyes on him, even if it was just for a second or so.

He retrieves the old, square box from the attic of the house his parents left him – it’s still where he remembers stashing it, years ago. He opens it on his desk, shaky hands setting up the pieces before he types the question on his phone.

How to play chess.

---

He’s back on Sunday.

Triss snorts when she greets him at the doors, rolling her eyes at him. “You know,” she says, “I won’t always be around to let you in, if you’re going to keep showing up all the time.”

He smiles sheepishly. “What can I say? I just really like it here.”

She narrows her eyes at him, smiling mischievously. “You like Geralt, you mean. I could see you last time, coming out of his room while blushing like a comely maiden. What happened?”

He shrugs. “Nothing. I just sang a song for him.”

“And he let you?” She huffs out a laugh. “Well, who could’ve seen that one coming? Come on, let’s get you inside, lover boy.”

He sputters a bit, but follows her through the doors all the same.

---

“Knock, knock,” he says, tapping on the doorframe a few times before he takes a few steps inside the dark room. “I’m uh… I’m back.”

He fiddles with the strap of his guitar case for a few seconds before pulling it over his head, setting the instrument against the wall.

Geralt is once again sitting on the other side of the room, still as a statue, eyes drilling holes into the chess board as he completely ignores Jaskier. But he won’t be able to much longer – Jaskier will make sure of that.

Whether his actions will anger Geralt enough for the man to start yelling at him, he doesn’t know. But as he looks at Geralt’s face, at the way the sunlight peeking through the blinds makes parts his hair shine in a white-golden halo around his head, he decides that it’s a risk he’s willing to take. If only so that Geralt will at least look at him.

He crosses the room in a few steps and snatches two pawns off the board.

And that does catch Geralt’s attention.

Light eyes flicker up to look at him, making his breath catch in his lungs with the intensity of that gaze, with the anger slowly budding on Geralt’s face. But Jaskier doesn’t step back or turn away. He simply puts his hands behind his back, switching the pieces around a few times before holding out his fists, a pawn in each one.

“Choose,” he says. Geralt’s eyes stay glued to his face, eyebrows slowly drawing together, hands curling into fists.

Jaskier sighs. “I’m getting tired of having to see you play chess all by yourself. It’s quite sad to watch, really. So, pick a colour and we’ll play together.”

The silence in the room is almost palpable, unmoving to the point where Jaskier can almost taste it on his tongue. His head grows light, dizziness setting in as he keeps holding his breath – his lungs won’t cooperate as long as Geralt’s still looking at him.

And slowly, ever so slowly, the man in front of him lifts a hand, eyes never leaving Jaskier’s face as he softly taps a finger on Jaskier’s left fist.

He opens it, presenting the white pawn to Geralt.

He sits down on the other side of the table, setting the pawns on the board, rearranging the black pieces into two neat, little rows. Geralt does the same, although more slowly, as though he doesn’t quite believe what’s going on. Jaskier watches the man move the pieces, watches sure and strong hands delicately hold those little, fragile things and put them on their assigned square. He imagines how Geralt’s fingers would twitch slightly as Jaskier would hold his hand palm-up, trailing his finger over his skin lightly. He imagines how those scarred fingers would curl around his, hand warm in Jaskier’s.

And then Geralt’s done. Light eyes look up at Jaskier, catching the sunlight streaming through the blinds, and suddenly he can see that they’re amber. A rich, deep amber that holds soft golden and brown flecks, the colour of sunflowers in a summer field, the colour of honey dripping down a finger before it’s licked up, the colour of ambrosia and the nectar of the gods.

It’s a colour Jaskier would gladly lose himself in.

“All yours,” he says breathlessly, feeling as though the words have been punched from his chest.

Golden eyes flicker down to the chess board and a strong, scarred hand moves up to slide a pawn across the wood. Geralt’s gaze shifts back up to him, and for a second, it feels like Jaskier might die from the intensity of it.

He swallows thickly, quickly looking at the board and moving his own pawn. He barely even remembers the things he learned about chess the past few days – hell, he barely even remembers his own name, as if Jaskier’s entire life threatens to wash away whenever those golden eyes look at him, as if every moment has been meaningless up until this point.

Geralt moves a chess piece. Jaskier follows suit.

Slowly, as the minutes tick by one at a time, Jaskier starts to relax bit by bit. His focus shifts from the man in front of him to the chess board and the soft melody that’s starting to build at the back of his mind.

After a while of having it stuck in his head, he starts humming it.

Golden eyes meet his.

“Oh, you don’t mind, do you?” he asks, concern knitting his eyebrows together. Because as much as he loves music and loves making it, he doesn’t want to risk shattering the fragile bond he has with Geralt, doesn’t want to lose this just yet.

Geralt’s gaze drifts back to the board. He moves another piece. He doesn’t say anything.

Jaskier takes that as encouragement and starts humming again.

He loses the game in thirteen more moves.

He grins up at Geralt as they both move the pieces back into place. “Well, that was a disaster. Forgive me, I’m not really that familiar with the game yet, but maybe I’ll learn if you give me a chance?”

He phrases it as a question, a gentle hope igniting in his chest. He probably won’t coax Geralt into talking just yet, but if he can just get a reaction – anything other than silent glances – it will make everything worth it.

Please give me a chance.

Geralt looks up at him, face as perfectly still and unreadable as ever as the silence stretches on between them. Eventually, he looks back down again.

He lifts a hand and moves a pawn forward, starting a new game.

Jaskier can’t help the grin that spreads across his face.

---

“Jesus, buttercup. Back again, already?” Triss asks him on Tuesday, furrowing her brows at him. “I think I’ll put in a request with the admin to get you your own badge. I really can’t be here to let you in all the time, you know.”

“I know.” He smiles at her before slipping inside the ward, blowing her a kiss as he walks backwards towards the hallway that leads to Geralt’s room. “I owe you one!”

“You owe me several, buttercup!” she shouts back at him.

---

“Hmm, what do you think is better, Geralt? ‘Gorgeous garrotter’, or ‘lovely garrotter’?”

Golden eyes flicker up to his, before looking back at the board. Geralt moves his bishop.

“Yeah, you’re right. Just ‘garrotter’ would work best,” Jaskier mumbles as he uses his knight to take Geralt’s bishop. He continues humming the melody, muttering lyric ideas under his breath, trying to find a good rhythm to the words.

Geralt moves his queen. Jaskier blanches as he realizes he’s been lured into a trap yet again, and knocks over his king.

“You win,” he sighs. “Again.”

He doesn’t miss it when the corners of Geralt’s mouth pull up in self-satisfaction as he starts to reset the board.

“Again, I suppose?” Jaskier asks. Geralt moves his pawn forward. “I assume that’s a ‘yes’,” he mutters.

---

What was supposed to be a once-a-week thing turns into an everyday thing as soon as Jaskier gets his badge from the hospital. Most days he doesn’t even play for the other patients – though he does reserve an hour for them at least twice a week and obliges whenever they ask him for a song – but spends his time in Geralt’s room, chess board in front of him, guitar in his lap.

He doesn’t know what it is about the room, but something there calms his mind down, makes him see things clearer and from a different angle, gives him the quiet and peace and inspiration he needs to finish the songs he’s been working on for years, now, and gives him the spark he needs to write new songs.

He supposes that the ‘something’ might be Geralt himself, but there’s a part of him that fears that if he admits that out loud, even to himself, it will become too serious – that it will become a riptide that will sweep him off his feet and push him under water.

He looks at Geralt, at the man sitting in the sunlight, the white halo around his head making him look ethereal, the bright light highlighting the scars and birthmarks and freckles on his skin – the tiny imperfections Jaskier commits to memory every time he gets the chance to see them. The past few days, Geralt’s begun to lift the sunblind up a little bit, the room suddenly not so dark anymore. It’s probably to see the chess board better, Jaskier supposes.

“So,” he says from the doorway an hour later, his guitar put back into its case and slung onto his back. “See you tomorrow, then?” It’s the same thing he says every day, and just like yesterday and the day before that and the day before that, he doesn’t expect an answer.

Geralt never answers.

He’s halfway out the door when he hears a soft “hmm” behind him.

He looks over his shoulder, golden eyes glancing away when he meets them, and he has to try his very hardest not to cry out his joy for the entire world to hear. Because Geralt just gave him an answer.

He nods once, and heads to the lifts.

---

“Young man.”

He startles slightly when he’s greeted at the doors by a woman in a doctor’s coat, her raven hair falling in waves over her shoulders, her violet eyes drilling into his.

He swallows thickly, fiddling with the strap of his guitar case, nail digging into the leather. “Yes?”

“I’m doctor Vengerberg,” she says, extending her hand for him to shake. He obliges before quickly letting go, wiping his sweaty palm on his jeans. “You’re the man that sings songs, are you not?”

He nods once. “That would be me, yes,” he mumbles, going over everything he’s done in the past week, trying to find what might have sparked her ire.

But her face softens, causing Jaskier to frown in confusion. “And you’re the one who keeps visiting Mr. Rivia, are you not?” He nods again. “What is it that you do in there all the time?” she asks him.

He swallows thickly. “Oh, we just play chess. And I sing to him. We don’t… don’t do anything… inappropriate, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

Her lips curl upwards. “It is not, but thanks for clearing that up anyways-“ she squints at his badge “-Julian. But… is that really all you do in there? Play chess and sing songs?”

“Yes, doctor.”

Her brows knit together slightly. “Huh. Who would’ve thought?” With that, she pushes past him, out of the doors to the ward, leaving him confused in the common room.

He shrugs it away and turns around, heading to Geralt’s room.

The blinds are halfway up, but today there is no sun to illuminate the side of Geralt’s face as Jaskier goes to sit on the other side of the set chessboard. The rain patters against the window, the dim light outside projecting the rivulets onto Geralt’s skin – it’s a sight to behold, and Jaskier finds himself following every drop as its projection slides down Geralt’s cheek.

Amber eyes flicker up to his and Jaskier is shaken out of his reverie, plucking two pawns off the board, switching them a couple of times behind his back before he holds his fists out. Geralt’s gaze never leaves his as he lifts a hand, a single finger tapping Jaskier’s left fist.

He opens it. It’s the black pawn. He hands it to Geralt, before setting his own white pawn where it belongs, turning the board so that the right side is facing him. He waits until Geralt’s set his piece down before he makes the first move.

As Geralt contemplates his, Jaskier picks up his guitar case, taking out the instrument and setting it in his lap.

Geralt moves a pawn. Jaskier moves his knight. He leans back and idly starts plucking a melody, muttering lyrics under his breath. Golden eyes meet his.

“Oh, you don’t mind, do you?” It’s the same question he asks every day. Usually, Geralt will just ignore it and turn back to the game, but this time, as golden eyes flicker down to the chess board, he lets out a soft hum.

“Wh- what?” Jaskier stammers, guitar strings twanging messily as his hand goes limp.

“Hmm,” Geralt hums again as he moves a pawn.

“R- right. Of course, thank you,” Jaskier mumbles, excited blush rising up to his cheeks as he starts plucking the melody again.

---

He startles when he’s greeted by a mop of brown curls and two arms throwing themselves around his neck the second he opens the door to the ward. He laughs in confusion, returning the hug Triss gives him quickly.

“What did I do to deserve that?” he asks her. “Not that I mind, of course, but still…”

She holds him at an arm’s length, smile bright enough to light up the whole room even more than it already is, rivalling the sunshine streaming in through the windows. “Thank you,” she says. “I don’t know what it is that you do in there every day, but please keep doing it.”

“Wh- what are you talking about?”

“Geralt, of course!” she says, as if it’s completely obvious. “I don’t know how you manage, buttercup, but…” She shakes her head, and he doesn’t miss the light sheen over her eyes as she smiles at him. “He slept six hours last night.”

He blinks. “And… that’s not normal?”

She grins, her curls bouncing around her face as she shakes her head. “No, it really is not. Most nights he doesn’t sleep at all, and if he does, well… it’s only for a short while.”

She pulls him closer, rubbing their noses together playfully, just like they’ve always done since they were little kids. It makes him giggle, a wave of nostalgia washing over him.

“Thank you,” she whispers to him. “Whatever it is you do, please don’t stop.”

“Not planning on it. Speaking of, I should probably go now, he’s expecting me.”

“Alright. Oh, are you up for drinks this weekend?”

He nods. “Sure. The Kingfisher?” he asks as he starts walking backwards to the hallway that leads to Geralt’s room.

“Meet me at ten!” Triss half-shouts at him, making a few patients look up in annoyance.

Jaskier gives her a thumbs-up and turns around, practically skipping his way to Geralt’s room.

The blinds are halfway up and Jaskier takes a few moments to look at Geralt as he sits in the sunlight, hands folded in his lap, golden eyes drilling holes into the chess board. Now that Triss has mentioned it, Jaskier does think he notices that Geralt looks a little less tired – the shadows under his eyes aren’t as deep, his shoulders aren’t as slumped, his cheeks even hold a slight dusting of pink, their usual pallidness suddenly lost.

Golden eyes flicker to him, and Geralt lifts his left eyebrow slightly; he’s getting impatient with Jaskier standing in the doorway and staring at him.

Jaskier shakes himself out of his reverie and shrugs his guitar case off his shoulder as he crosses the room, quickly performing their little pick-the-pawn ritual – where Jaskier ends up with white – before he makes the first move, unpacking his guitar as Geralt stares at the board, the heel of his hand under his chin, his fingers resting against his lips.

He sets his instrument in his lap as Geralt makes his first move. Jaskier counteracts it by moving his knight, before he starts plucking at his guitar.

“Are you sure there aren’t any songs you want to hear?” he asks softly, afraid to break the peace and silence in the room by talking too loud.

Geralt moves a pawn. Shakes his head minutely.

Jaskier half-shrugs. “Right, guess I’ll have to pick something.” He sighs. “Don’t feel particularly inspired today, so I don’t think I’m gonna be composing much.”

He moves his bishop. Plucks a few notes. He looks out the window, at the trees in the parking lot and the city park that lies beyond, at the small, green buds on the branches and the crisp green-white of the grass as the night’s frost begins to thaw in the sunshine. He looks at the children playing in the field, at the man throwing a stick for his dog to fetch, at the young couple that sits on the bench, one of them getting up to pick a budding flower from the bushes, handing it to the other.

He imagines what it would be like to sit there in that park, to have the remnants of last night’s cold nip at his fingers and nose, to bask in the sunshine as it warms his back, to pick a flower from the bushes to hand to his lover. His lover, whose hair resembles the frost that coats the grass, whose eyes rival the brightness of the sun, who gives him a crooked grin as he takes the flower without a word-

“How do you feel about ‘La vie en rose’?” Jaskier asks.

Geralt quickly looks up at him before he looks back down at the board. “Hmm.”

He can’t help but smile softly at that, strumming his guitar a few times as he starts to sing. “Hold me close and hold me fast. The magic spell you cast. This is la vie en rose.”

Geralt moves a pawn. Jaskier moves his bishop.

“When you kiss me, heaven sighs, and though I close my eyes, I see la vie en rose.”

The couple outside stands up from the bench, holding hands as they walk through the park, disappearing from Jaskier’s view as they turn a corner.

“When you press me to your heart, I’m in a world apart, a world where roses bloom.”

Golden eyes meet his for half a second, and his breath catches in his lungs, heart beating in his throat painfully. He looks away, Geralt’s gaze too much to bear.

“And when you speak, angels sing from above. Everyday words seem to turn into love songs.”

He wonders what Geralt’s voice sounds like. Sure, he’s already heard him hum out a reply a few times, but it’s never loud enough for Jaskier to get a proper idea of what he might sound like. Maybe one day, he’ll hear Geralt speak. Or maybe he won’t. It doesn’t matter to him – as long as Geralt allows him to stay by his side, Jaskier’s content.

“Give your heart and soul to me, and life will always be la vie en rose.”

He finishes the last few chords of the song, his voice trailing into nothingness. Geralt moves a pawn.

Jaskier clears his throat, setting his guitar against the chair, leaning his forearms on the table. He moves his knight. Geralt moves his queen. Checkmate.

He huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. “Christ, how do you always manage to beat me at this? One day, Geralt, I swear that I’ll win one day.”

The corner of Geralt’s mouth quirks up ever so slightly. He might as well be rolling his eyes at this point.

“Alright, fine, you’re right, I probably won’t. But that won’t stop me from trying.”

He starts moving the chess pieces back into place, Geralt following suit. Jaskier reaches for a black pawn that’s halfway across the board at the same time Geralt reaches for the white one right next to it.

Their hands brush.

Jaskier’s breath catches in his lungs, head spinning as the side of his hand grows hot, even as he jerks it back – as if Geralt’s touch has burned him, has left an everlasting mark on him whose heat Jaskier will feel for years to come, his touch a brand that’ll claim Jaskier for the rest of his life.

He clears his throat and ignores it.

“I, uh…” he says softly. “I won’t be able to be here on Sunday. I’m going out for drinks with Triss on Saturday so I will probably be too hungover to drive. And I can’t be here on Monday, either, since I’ve got a couple of older students who have class in the morning. But I’ll come back on Tuesday, if that’s alright?”

He looks up. Golden eyes drill holes into the chess board as Geralt moves a pawn. He doesn’t hum a response.

Jaskier sighs and turns back to the game.

---

“Thank God you’re here, buttercup.”

He stops right inside the doors to the ward on Tuesday, clutching the strap of his guitar case as Triss hurries towards him, eyes wide and filled with something he’s too scared to identify.

“What’s going on?”

“It’s Geralt.” She grabs him by his arm, dragging him across the common room before he can even think to protest.

“W- wait, what? What’s wrong with Geralt?”

“He’s having an episode. A bad one.”

“An episode- Triss, what are you talking about?”

She sighs, suddenly stopping, pulling him to a halt as well, her hand around his upper arm like a vice. “The past few days, his mental health has been declining. Badly. He hasn’t slept, he’s barely eaten anything, and he just… sits there. Or he paces. It’s really not going well, buttercup.”

He feels something ugly and fearful claw at the inside of his chest. “Triss, I have to ask, what exactly is he having an episode of?”

“He’s got PTSD, buttercup. Hasn’t he told you?”

He shrugs, scratching at the back of his neck. “Well, no. We don’t exactly… talk a lot. But is there anything I can do to help?”

She sighs again. “I don’t know. Maybe. He’s been doing a bit better the past two weeks, ever since you showed up, so I don’t know what you do when you’re around him, but maybe it’ll help today as well. As long as he can get some sleep, buttercup – he really needs to sleep, he can’t go on like this much longer.”

He nods once. “Right. I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you,” she says softly, pulling him into a quick hug before letting go. “Press the alarm button if anything happens.”

He snorts incredulously. “Like what?”

She levels him with a look, her eyes flat and tired. “There’s a reason why he’s here, buttercup.”

The words settle in his stomach like stones – even though he has a hard time deciphering what exactly she meant by them – but he nods again, turning around and setting off to Geralt’s room, his heartbeat thudding in his ears.

The blinds are pulled down completely and he has to stand in the doorway for a while to let his eyes get adjusted to the darkness, slowly blinking as he starts to distinguish shapes and silhouettes.

Unlike all the other times Jaskier’s been in this room, Geralt’s not sitting at the table by the window, looking at the chess board. No, this time he’s sitting at the foot of his bed, hands resting loosely in his lap, eyes wide and unseeing as they stare at the wall in front of him – glassy and flat yet full of something Jaskier can’t bring himself to recognize.

Geralt’s hands ball into tight fists, blunt fingernails undoubtedly pressing crescent-shaped bruises into his palms, before they let go, uncurling until they’re relaxed again. And then it repeats. And repeats. And repeats.

Like waves rhythmically lapping at the shores, Geralt’s hands curl and uncurl, tighten and loosen, tense and relax. Over and over again, as his eyes never leave the wall in front of him, as his face remains perfectly still – but not still in the same way as it was when Jaskier first met him. Geralt’s face is not a perfectly sculpted mask he put on himself, not carefully blank and even as to hide any emotional response he’s having at that moment.

No, the best way Jaskier can describe Geralt’s face right now is slack. As if he’s not even aware he has a face to control, as if he’s far, far away from his own body, reliving things that are already in the distant past. As if there is no emotional response to hide.

He sets his guitar against the wall gently, kneeling by the foot of the bed, bringing his hands up to ghost over Geralt’s face – he can’t touch, he can’t. Geralt hasn’t said he’s allowed yet and Jaskier’s afraid he’ll never be able to let go if he does.

“Geralt?” he says softly. “Geralt, it’s me. Jaskier.” Golden eyes stare at the wall blankly, looking right over his head as if he’s not there at all. It’s exactly like the first time he met Geralt, except now it feels worse, because it doesn’t feel like Geralt’s doing this on purpose. It feels like he really doesn’t realize that Jaskier’s there.

“Geralt? Can you hear me?”

His hands curl into fists. Unfurl. Curl again.

He gets up slowly, walking over to the chess board and snatching two pieces from it, switching them behind his back before he goes to stand in front of Geralt, fists outstretched.

“Choose,” he says, ignoring the way his voice wobbles slightly.

Golden eyes stare right through him, unmoving, unseeing.

“Choose.”

Hands curl into fists. Unfurl. Curl again.

Jaskier puts the pieces back where they belong, opting to unpack his guitar instead. If he can’t coax Geralt back into his body with chess, he’ll annoy him into coming back.

He leans against the wall, a little bit to the left of Geralt, where the golden eyes don’t look right through him, but from where he still has a good view of Geralt and his blank expression. And he starts playing.

He plays everything that comes to mind, from half-finished songs to old lullabies to pop hits from the eighties. If it drifts into his head, it drifts into the room. He plays, and plays, and plays, until his fingers are aching and painful, until the callouses on his skin start wearing away, until his voice becomes raw and his throat dry.

He plays, as seconds turn to minutes turn to hours. It slowly grows darker outside, bit by bit, and he takes a five-minute break to drink some water for his parched throat and to lift the blinds. It’s raining. Big, heavy buckets of it pouring from the skies, fat droplets pitter-pattering against the glass.

Jaskier moves back to stand against the wall. He starts playing again.

And bit by agonizing bit, ever so slowly, almost imperceptibly, Geralt’s face turns from slack and empty to something entirely different, something Jaskier’s never seen before. He looks… peaceful. Calm. Content.

Golden eyes slip closed.

Jaskier keeps on playing. He remembers the park outside the window, remembers the couple and the flower one of them picked for the other, remembers the children playing and the man throwing the stick for his dog.

“I see trees of green,” he sings softly, smiling to himself as he remembers the song he used  to hear on his nan’s old radio, back when he was a kid. “Red roses, too.”

He looks up to cast a glance at Geralt. He’s still sitting at the foot of his bed, hands limp in his lap – but they don’t curl and uncurl anymore. They just lay there, calm and peaceful like the rest of him.

“I see them bloom for me and you.” He grins, looking down at his guitar as he strums the chords. “And I think to myself: what a wonderful world.”

There’s a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye, and before he can lift his eyes to look at it, his head hits the wall painfully, dizzying him, making him drop his guitar – which lands with a loud and dissonant twang – and he’s sure he would’ve fallen over if something wasn’t holding up.

Something is holding him up.

He blinks the fog out of his eyes, Geralt’s face growing into focus. Golden eyes – angry golden eyes boring into his, intense in a way Jaskier’s never seen on anyone before. The word feral shoots through his head at the snarl that bears Geralt’s fangs, at the quiet growl being pushed from the back of his throat.

Throat. Jaskier’s throat hurts.

There are two hands around it, blinding pressure pushing him against the wall – the thing, the thing holding him up.

And suddenly everything snaps into focus.

He gasps for breath, trying and failing to get air into his lungs as Geralt’s hands squeeze his throat shut, furious eyes glaring at him as Jaskier’s hands come up to pull at Geralt’s wrists, feet kicking uselessly against the wall.

“G-“ He gasps, wheezes as he tastes blood at the back of his tongue, heartbeat pounding in his ears. “Geralt-“

The golden eyes don’t recognize him.

“P- please, Geralt-“

He gasps and pants and coughs, a useless sob wracking through his useless chest, dark spots dancing across his vision, obscuring all but golden eyes as oxygen runs out. His hands abandon their attempts at pulling that merciless grip away from his throat and slap against the wall.

His fingertip hits something plastic, jutting out of the drywall. The emergency button.

He stretches his arm as far as he can, muscles aching and joints creaking in protest as his fingertips graze uselessly against the button and he’s running out of air and it won’t be long until his lifeless body hangs limply in Geralt’s hands and all he can see is angry, golden, unseeing eyes and the button the button the button the button the button.

He stretches his fingers as far as he can. He smashes the emergency button.

Nothing happens.

He cries out his frustration, though it’s nothing more than a pathetic, little whimper by now, and he smashes the button again. And again. And again. And again.

His head grows fuzzy. His heartbeat thumps in his ears. He can’t feel his fingers anymore. All he sees is golden eyes.

Shouting.

Screaming and shouting and someone is calling for help. Geralt’s hands jostle him around like a cantankerous child with a ragdoll as people try to pull his arms away from Jaskier.

Golden eyes. Golden eyes and Jaskier goes limp, hands hanging by his side uselessly as Geralt’s merciless hands around his throat hurtle him towards death with each passing second.

A needle glints in the light shining in from the hallway.

Geralt’s hands grow looser, bit by bit, and Jaskier desperately gulps in every bit of air his abused throat allows him to. He sobs. He can sob. The fact that he can makes him cry more loudly, face contorting as he grimaces, tears streaming down his burning cheeks. Parts of his world come into view again.

Golden eyes. Confused, golden eyes as eyebrows knit together slightly. Golden eyes, holding a glimpse of recognition.

Golden eyes, rolling into the back of Geralt’s head.

Geralt drops. Jaskier drops with him. Several panicked voices fill the room and there are hands on his body, turning him around, feeling his neck, his pulse and he lets them.

He closes his eyes as consciousness slips from his grasp.

[shinpredicts]

Hi there! Could you do a love reading for Elon Musk? Thank you.

His love life is always very complicated and toxic. He has a lot of problems with communicating with his partners and he always wants to be the "winner" in the relationship. There are a lot of situations where they'll both hurt each other on purpose for fun or to test each other. He will also want to control his partners, yet he loves being with fierce partners who don't really give a damn. As a result there'll be tons of power struggles and conflict and fighting with both trying to dominate each other. He and his partners are always quirky and in their own worlds. They're also both manipulative and serial liars. It's like that movie called "Love Me If You Dare" -- intense attraction but very toxic and both hurt each other a lot. A lot of running around and chasing too.

His marriages have high chances of ending in divorce and then he'll try to get into another marriage later and also have kids. He likes having kids a lot like something about keeping his bloodline makes him happy. I think if he could clone himself, he would.

Changmo's Maestro fits his love life well.

[popculturebuffet]

Don Rosa: “The Magnificent Seven (Minus 4) Caballeros!” or City Slickers 3: The Crystal City

Saludos Amigos, the Ride of the Three Caballeros returns! After some time off to take care of other seasonal commissions and to finally get the life and times fo scrooge mcduck back on a steady pace, everyone’s three favorite chappies in snappy serapes are back for another go round.  This time i’ts back to comics one last time as we take a look at “The Magnificent Seven (Minus 4) Caballeros: which was the penultimate story from Duck Maestro Don Rosa, and as a result the final one set in present day, as while the next one would have a wraparound segment, it’s a flashback tiding up the one last bit of Scrooge’s past Rosa hadn’t clicked into place yet, and thus we’ll get to that eventually as part of life and times. And honestly it serves as a fittng and satisfying conclusion to Donald’s story. 

The geneisis of this one is rather simple in comparison to “The Three Caballeros Ride Again!”. Don Rosa REALLY enjoyed writing TTCRA, wanted to have another adventure with Donaldo and his boys, and given the previous story was a huge hit likely had no trouble convincing his publisher. And since he set the first story in Panchito’s home country of mexico, it only made sense to have the next story in Jose’s home country of Brazil. Adding to it Rosa specifically wanted to avoid using the amazon rainforest this go round, as to him pretty much every story involving Brazil focused on the massive and wonderful rainforest. And while a great setting, Rosa knew there was much more to the country and wanted to show it off. And to his credit.. he’s 100% right as i’ve seen dozens upon dozens of stories set in the rainforest but not nearly as many set ANYWHERE ELSE IN BRAZIL. If their lucky we get to see Rio, but that’s about it. So kudos to Rosa for wanting to display more of a beautiful country and show it had more to offer than merely it’s biggest attraction. As for what treasure they’d be after, the lost city of crystal stuck out to him, having been described in a goverment document that was so degraded when it was found there wasn’t much left to go on and searched for by a famous explorer who was the basis for indiana jones whose name I forgot but we’ll run into his name again later. So yeah not as much setup here and what tiny bit is left can be covered when we get to our villian. So with all that out of the way, let’s ride on!

We open with Scrooge firing Donald and throwing his ass out on the street, berating him for screwing up and then telling him to be back early tommorow to make up for his firing. Then Gladstone literally walks all over him becausae he’s a jackass, and Daisy then shrieks at donald for you know, being stuck on the floor, having messed up the shirt she ironed for him without.. actually you know asking for context, HITTING HIM, then telling him to pick her up for dinner at the ritz. 

It’s like this intro was perfectly designed in a lab to piss me off. All three of the characters who on a good day ar excellent but on a bad are outright monsters, at their worst, treating Donald like crap, i.e. the reason to call them monsters, and generally abusing him for flimsy reasons. And again Daisy HIT DONALD. No that’s not right, she shoryukened his ass! She upercutted him! God damn. And her just casually doing that is played for laughs. In a lesser Rosa story this would only get worst and be “oh haw haw”.. instead... to my delighted suprise.. this is all treated seriously. Yeah really. Instead of being treated for laughs like normal, and not being a dark enough work comedically to make it work like say It’s Always Sunny, Donald is seriously depressed, beaten down phsycially and mentlaly and when the boys, who’ve been present for all of this and tried to help him up off the ground, ask why he takes this.. the answer is pretty damn bleak. 

Just.. holy shit that’s dark.. and I applaud Rosa for not only recognizing this isn’t always funny, but for actually tackling it. And I will grant Donald being a butt monkey CAN be funny, especially when it’s caused by his own ego. It’s the basis of his entire career. It’s good stuff. My issue has been more that Rosa sometimes dosen’t get that either some aspects have aged poorly, even by the 90′s, and thus dosen’t adjust them or play them more for drama, sprinkling a bit of that in with the comedy. So to see him do that HERE, to acknowledge in some way his own faults and do something with them.. i’m very proud of him and it warms my heart that he could do something like this that shows he could grow and change, even SECONDS from the end of his career, but with no intention of ending his career at that point or even after finishing his next and last story. It just ended up happening that way and as such this story carries even more weight as for all intensive purposes, this is the final tale of Donald Duck for Don Rosa’s Barksian universe. This is the last big tale before whatever triggers Scrooge’s retirement, the last tale he wrote in the here and now. And while not perfect for some reasons we’ll get to from a character perspective? It’s a pretty good note to go out on. 

Anyways Donald somehow makes this SADDER by mentoing, when Huey, Dewey or Louie tries to make him smile that he hasn’t smiled in some time before sadly loping off to make their dinner before buying daisy’s. 

Yeah... I just.. I need a moment.... Here’s my asistant iwth an important message

Okay i’ve regained my composuer.. and yes I will be shwoing that off at every opportunity. I have generous friends. Now where were we? Ah yes with their uncle in a depression hole, can relate, they figure he needs a nice gift to get him out of it. The boys think he needs friends.. and of course the boys come to mind, though the fact their on the other end of the contient proves a problem.. but Huey, Dewey or Louie has a solution and takes the boys to the Woodchucks because of course they do> Their primary go to for anything is the guide which to be fair contains the entire sum of the world’s knowledge in a guidebook. 

So the boys, with the other two likely filled in on the way, plan becomes clear when they stop by Woodchuck HQ and talk to the guy in charge of the badge department, which ahs a fun acronym because of course it does, this is one of Rosa’s faviorite running gags and mine as well.. I just don’t have it in me stamina wise to type the whole thing out. Point is the boys ask that Donald be used as courier for a special shipment of badge’s to Rio. The authority guy is understandably a bit reluctant to give a non-woodchuck this duty, but the boys remind him that in a previous story, not sure if it’s barks or rosa’s, Donald apparently not only found the last remaning pieces of fort duckberg but saved them from the mill. As a result the Fort, which was the original HQ of the woodchucks until Scrooge threw them out, was apparently rebuilt. So the guy in charge is more than willing to not only give donald the duty, but an open ended plain ticket, i.e a vacation. The Nephews do have to guilt him a bit more to get donald a condsensed pamphlet based on the brazil chapter of the guidebook which at this point seems like overkill. Just.. buy him a guidebook boys. IT’s a bit much to ask that a portion of your heavily guarded and protected text be given to your uncle for a vacation and seems like a tad of a stretch but the gag, including the boys getting badges in guilt and convincing, makes it work. 

So after the boys set off to telegram the rest of the Cabs, we cut to donald arriving in rio, passing christ the redeemer on the way

The Rio Woodchucks greet donald and take the package for him, giving him new orders to go by cable car to the observation deck atop Sugar Loaf Mountain. This is a real mountain in Brazil and frustrated Rosa because he couldn’t find any pictures of what the station looked like in the 1950′s, despite as he put in his notes having eager fans from the region, researchers and other contacts try to find it, settling for having vintage cable cars pulling into modern stations he got from photos from said contacts. If I hadn’t said it before i’ll say it now the man is a BEAST when it comes to getting things acurate, only bending it if it helsp the story and still making sure his drawings are as accurate as possible. It’s one of Rosa’s most adimirable traits. 

Donald took a Donde, some form of streetcar there, hanging on the back and .. uh I have no words for this..

Donald Duck ran into a horse and it farted in his face. Just... why though. This horse naturally is Senior Marteniz, with Panchito currently being thrown out of a cable car for trying to put his horse in there which is fair. What isn’t is people having an issue with his hat. I mean.. people wear hats. I know it’s a bit big for the tight fit of the cable car but still it’s a bit weird to throw a strop about anywhere outside a theater or sports place where he’d be actively obstructing people’s view. And it appears to be the same weirdly crazy asshole.. Imean again the horse thing is resonable but calling it a “crazy hat” I mean yes it’s a big hat.. but ... you you do know mexico exists right? And sombreros? or other cultures at all you weirdly specific douche? 

At the top, after a quick and funny hat swap gag, Panchito reveals the triplets called him here.. as did Jose who assuemd it was  lovely senorita.. who uppercuts him. And it’s STILL more reasonable to uppercut some rando hitting on you, if not by much, than Daisy’s Domestic Abuse. Anyways the three put things together and Donald realizes via flashback the boys hoped his smile would return and said he’d have help. 

Donald, being utterly beaten down by life, apologizes.. but it turns out the boys needed this as much as he did. Jose’s night club career is flopping hard, with his agent unable to get him bookings and Panchito has barely scraped any money together for his ranch dream from last time. It’s a nice touch: That the boys , while having more exciting careers have just as much strife as Donald does and as much problem. It helps make them feel as real as donald, as characters with their own lives and adventures outside of him and their own wants and needs and it really helps the story come alive. Jose however has some suggestions to escape their blues. 

But Panchito suggests instead they go for some adventure and go diamond hunting in the plains of brazil, which the two agree to.. and Donald’s a big gung hoe about carving his way through human flesh.. just jesus man.. get a therapist. Your Ducktales counterpart did and he seems mildly well adjusted. So the adventure is on.. and they all toss their hats.. off a mountain. First thing on the provisoins list hats.  Before we head on I just wanted to point out even though most of my audience here is likely unaware the movie exists that this Comic honestly reminds me of the 1991 comedy City Slickers starring Billy Crystal, Daniel Stern and Bruno Kirby. If your struggling on the name Daniel Stern, think Marv from Home Alone. 

No.. the RIGHT marv. I may not be a huge fan of Home Alone but we respect Daniel sterns in this house. And yes if you didn’t know French Stewart played Marv in one of the sequels now you do. And i’m sorry you know that. 

There we go. Right Marv and Wrong Dad from Christmas story. Back on point City Slickers is a terrific comedy I finally saw a few weeks back about three friends all facing mid life crisises, with Billy Crystal being unsatisfied with his career and undsure WHY he does, Daniel Sterns having cheated on his shrewish wife with one of his employees whose also now pregnant, and Bruno Kirby being a ladies man whose faced with the prosepct of settling down, go for a weeks vacation to a cattle drive, as Brunos character tends to set up these trips but this time they actually need it. They encounter cows, assholes and a cowpoke named Curly. It’s pretty good. 

But yeah they both feel kinda similar, if with far less drama and crumbling marraiges on the cabs end because you know, this is for children. I’m pretty sure it’s just a concidence but given Rosa’s love of film, even if it’s more 30′s and 40′s films, and how the City Slickers seems right up his alley, I wouldn’t he suprised if he saw it and simply took some slight inspiration from it. Either way the similarity makes me giggle a bit. Again the plots aren’t all the same but the basic setup is about the same, complete with the main character’s family making sure he goes. It’s a bit of a stretch but I thought it was pointing out and while this review is comissioned, how I go about it isn’t so if I want to take a few paragraphs to compare this to an excellent comedy you should defintely see with two underated actors, maybe three i know nothing of bruno kirby other than the man had horse allergies and thus had to take heavy medication every day so good on him, and a lot of fun. 

So our premise and pastiche firmly in place, our heroes fly out to the frontier to adventure and Donald even thought ahead on them needing two more mounts and bought them from the local farmer for 100 bucks: It turns out their a llama, who jose takes and an old ox which donald reluctantly takes and wonders how to steer.. which I just got the double pun. Nice touch.

So our heroes head on with Donald expressing suprise they aren’t in the jungle like the movies, Jose correcting him, you get the bit he’s going for. But as they travel Donald not only breaks out the pamphlet but also , once jose mentions finding el dorado, casually mentions he and Scrooge already found it in columbia, and when Jose incrediously mentions that maybe he also already found the lost mines of the incas.. turns out yeah they did that too. Dont’ know if it was a barks or rosa story for either, since I didn’t check that part of Rosa’s notes, but it brings the scene into greatness as the boys not only belivie donald and figure he’s not pulling their legs.. but marvel at his life. And it’s here Donald smiles a bit.. he’s already got his smile back realizing that as miserable as his life can be.. he’s still seen and done things no man, even his globetrotting pals, has sever done before or sense. Found long lost places, solved mysteries and rewrote history.. sometimes literally sometimes in the “found things that changed historical knowledge” sense. Point is.. he realizes he has more to his life than he thought and maybe it isn’t so miserable after all. 

Donald also mentions the local waters are filled with stuff and the other Cabs mounts quickly climb on his continuting the gag of the Cabs assuming donald’s some big expert by accident. For me personally it varies in how funny it is, sometimes it’s grating othertimes it’s genuinelly pretty good, your mileage will vary. We then get a page and a half of slapstick with various animals and this gag repeated and it’s eh. Not bad, and there’s a REALLY great visual bit where donald gets squeezed by an anaconda and not only is he comically and tightly squeezeled, but it takes a few panels for it to wear off. Other than that not bad stuff but nothing especially new or really that funny. 

Our heroes soon find a pit trap.. and a capybara in said pit trap.. which I also give myself credit for recognizing on sight. Who dosen’t like a good capybara? Their basically a large brazillian rodent if you were curious. Donald asks what can they do and hte boys take it as a secret test of character, and not just donald being kind of lost and decide to help free trapped animals instead of treasure hunt which Donald, much like his entire life, just reacts to with “what what are we doing now?”. But they manage to free the greatful Capybara and we get this inspired bit. 

Naturally the sheer confusion of seeing this as well as being confronted with the relaly bizzare nature of his world, i.e. having both a rodent whose an old friend and one that’s clearly just a regular animal causes Donald to fall into the hole. He’s soon found by the natives.. and here we get one of the worst aspects of this story and one I honestly didn’t expect to encounter given Rosa’s research: Calling these indgeinous people’s.. “indians”. Yes really. 

We were in 2004 by this point, and even in the cultural cesspool of the early 2000′s, a time where micheal jacksons actions towards children were used for reams of jokes and where R.Kelly got off for the same just because “he makes the good musics”. What i’m saying is even in this time in history, we knew better than to use the term indian and I remember distinctily the term native american being in my text books even at this point as a kid. So Rosa, a world traveled knowledgable adult.. has no excuse for this, not even “It was the 50′s when this was set and they’d used this” as while he had Scrooge being mildly racist in “The Empire Builder from Callisota”, he didn’t you know, have scrooge use the fucking n word or other slurs during the story because you know that’s racist and he knows it’s racist. I’m coming down so hard on him because I expect BETTER. I can, even if it bothers me and I will give out about it, KINDA ignore the daisy stuff because domestic violence against men wasn’t as wellk nown, so while it dosen’t play well and I won’t pretend to enjoy it I can at least understand why rosa thought this was funny when it isn’t> This? The man clearly should know better, should know to use correct terms, and is usually better about this, but just isn’t here and for one of his last stories it’s REALLY depressing to see a man I have a ton of respect for fail this badly. It’s just a small element of hte story but it really sticks out badly and says bad things about an otherwise good man. Even a good man can really fuck up and Don.. honestly really fucked up even when, normally his portryal of indigneous people’s is really good.. and is for the rest of the story. This is just a really bad if really easy to miss bit I feel he deserves some flak over it. He knew better. This story proves he knows better in other ways and knows indgenous people deserve resepect. He just dosen’t show it in his laungauge and it’s disheartaning. 

Anyways, the Natives drop donald off with their cheif.. who turns out to not only speak perfect english, but has a rather nice modern setup and clothes. He’s the son of the former cheif whose dad, using a secret crystal city with a rich mine, paid for his son to go get an education in the US and hopefully bring back knowledge for his people. Instead all he learned was to be a greedy selfish asshat who calls his own people “savages”. This is what i’m talking about: While the indian thing is bad and Rosa should feel bad.. the rest of the story does treat these tribal peoples with genuine grace and care, as our main villian is shown as one partly because rather than respect his culture and simply use thenew knowledge of the outside world to help his people by educating them, bringing back new techniques and medcidnes while mixing it with thier old culture, the bastard prince simply wrote them off as savages and used his new learnings to rule them and get them into trapping, a buisness i’ts later made clear at the end of hte story they don’t like and only followed him because he’s their chief. And it dosen’t even come off as them following him as chief because their stupid, mainly just because of tradition and knowing they can’t escape him and he’d just find htem and find some way to cowtow them. The tribe here are innocent victimes forced into a life they don’t want by an asshole who became a colonizer instead of a hero and leader to his people and simply wants to sell them out as soon as possible to fiance a fancy and comfy life for himself.  The bad guy here is recycled from Rosa’s pre scrooge work, and works well here and honestly.. is a good villian and a good antagonist, something Rosa struggled with sometimes when not just using what barks made. He’s a chillingly realistic villian: someone who would step on where he came from instead of helping it and again treats these people as simple victims forced to be minons by circumstance and as the end of the story shows, and we’ll get to that, not nearly as stupid or “savage” as this cruel bastard thinks. And naturally being a cruel bastard, Chief, since his name isn’t given, plans to ransom donald as he naturally has no hangups about selling people AND rare animals. Thankfully Donald’s only a prisoner for a bit as Donald’s ox makes a back door and with the help of their mounts the boys free all the trapped animals and escape.. with Senior Martinez accidently taking the Chief’s necklace. Turns out that’s the sigal that signals his right to rule, so he figures if the tribe finds out it’s missing they’ll rightfully dump his ass and tells them to give chase, which the cabs find out about via a wild parrot. It’s better not to ask. 

So our heroes head into the wilderness to loose them and find a rocky slope, making their way up to some more plains. They now have both a high vantage, and a place to set up camp so do so. They also found out Martinez took the necklace, and now know why the chief is after them, but Panchito decides to keep it for now till they can figure out what to do with it. SO over the camp fire Donald decides that if they can find this lost mine that the Cheif’s dad used to go to,  they won’t need to look for diamonds the hard way and Jose’s skepticism is rebuffed by the fact that Donald’s found plenty of lost cities with scrooge.  So donald brings up the legend of the crystal city, with the guy who found it being colonel percy fawceet, and brings up more adventures you get the bit by now. Point is he mentions a crystal arch lighting up at night to ward off intruders.. and sure enough our heroes happen to be right by it, complete with a crystal road that simply had been covered by shale over the years. Donald decides to get some rest and head out in the morning, with a valid explination as to why not to worry about hteir perusers till then: It’s so dark that even if they left a trail, they can’t follow.. which the evil cheif agrees to though he finds the trail they dug up, pointing as an arrow and now realizing his dad’s treasure was real, plans to naturally exploit the hell out of it.  So the next morning, bright and early, our heroes have built a raft, and are greatful they looked in first as the waters are stalked with dangerous predatory creatures. How htey haven’t all killed each other, I do not no, but it looks cool so i’ll shut up now. So our heroes leave their mounts behind and head in up the stream via the raft and find the massvie and awe inspiring lost city.. as for why it hasnt’ been found they soon figure out why: THe stream in is dangerous, and jose figures it was delebratly packed with dangerous animals, and thus few would think to go in there, and the only ohter way up is scaling the cliffs it’s build into, but as the cities built into the sides of said cliffs, no one can see it from a distance. It’s a birlliant way to justify just WHY something remained lost and somthing barks is tremendous at. Our heroes soon find though that the canal go deeper and approaches a water fall.. and thus jump off loosing their only way back and thus heading in deeper to see if they can find another way out. Meanwhile the Cheif has found the swamp and recongizes his dad mentoning it and being a greedy jackass, and suddenly realizing that maybe his people won’t want to loot the city their swarn to protect, tells them to guard the Cabs mounts while he goes on ahead. 

Our heroes journey deeper into the unknown and after coming across pick axes mine carts and the like find the mines of fear.. lit with crystals and with wall to wall gems. So they’ve sucessful founds the lost minds of ophir, set up by one of king solomon’s realtiives. The actual King Solomons Mines had been found in a barks story, naturally and is also likely the basis for the african mines level in the ducktales game. 

Donald being donald.. ends up sitting on a giant anaconda who swallows him whole as he dosen’t realize just how big the thing is when his pals mention it to him, and only escapes through Dumb Luck, as is the duck family way, lighting a match and causing the Anadonda to spit him out and run... unfortunately not only does Panchtio loudley announce he dosen’t have his pistols, The Chief shows up with a gun. Naturally he intends to plunder, because jackass you see, and intends to leave the cabs stranded, with the anaconda picking them off one by one when they inevitibly have to sleep while he’ll come back with inflatable rafts and boats to loot the rest. The cabs bemoan the fact that their fucked.. and then this happens. 

So with that Donald FINALLY snaps, tired of taking the world’s shit and determined not to be the looser everyone around him but his boys clearly think he is. Seriously Donald.. dump. her. ass. It’d also tell you to dump gladstone in a shallow ditch but given your love for hacking through human flesh and his luck I don’t want you to impale yourself. So thus.. Donald stops getting polite and starts getting badass.. shouting THAT’S THE LAST STRAW BEFORE.. .. welll...

Bad. Ass. Also who knew Donald was part Kree? Wait .. how though? Questions for later. So as Donald gives the asshole his RICHELY deserved asshole a beat down, the anaconda pops up and grabs the boat.. with Donald STILL fighting the Chief the whole time. Holy shit. If this is your last time writing a character in a lead role what a note to go out on holy jesus. The cabs however show their CLOSE to as badass with Panchito roping the anconda and Jose attacking it once it curls around.. and unlike last time where his umbrella was quickly disarmed, here the Anaconda eats the tip.. only for Jose to expand it and on Panchito’s command, hook the damn thing. I didn’t relaize till writing this up just HOW badass this story’s climax is.. just holy shit this is awesome incarnate. 

Donald ends up loosing the fight eventually as asshole whomps him on the head with the gems.. and sends donald flying, destroying the gate regulating the water thanks to freeing the anaconda. As a result asshole escapes.. for about five seconds till he drops over the falls, presumibly to his MUCH deserved death and even if he surivives, likely wont’ for long without anything to defend himself. Goodbye asshole, you were a good villian but you’ll be better tarantula chow. 

Our heroes are still stranded.. but Panchito notices the Anadconda escaping and well... he decides to equal donald in badassery. Again..words do not do this justice. 

Our heroes disembark, and find that the tribe has been held at bay by the noble steeds, and as I mentioned earlier, and why despite the frequent use of .. that word i’ve said enough already, this story isn’t too bad. The tribe, once free.. are perfectly intellegent and nice, only in the game because of tradition that asshole abused. Their going to head deeper into the valley on the offchance asshole makes it back so he can’t find them. So the tribe is free and seeing the emblem as the symbol of their opressor and not wanting it, they can likely make a new necklace honestly just without the gems, Panchito gets to keep it. So our heroes won, the adventure is over and our heroes head back to rio

In our final scene we get our wrap up with our heroes back in Rio to enjoy what’s left of their vacation.. which given the scope of events only two days of it have passed so far, so it’s nicely implied they have a day or two before Donald has to go back where he can just.. enjoy himself. Have an actual vacation now his soul is whole again. Our heroes went to the authorities, and it turns out the Chief was one of the most infamous trappers in Brazil, and is now again either dead or in no way shape or form easily able to come back into the country.. and when he does, he’ll now have every officer in the country on his ass.So in short he’s pretty fucked and i’m pretty happy about that.  Naturally our heroes dont’ get to keep the mines, because well... it belongs ina museum.. or to become a museum and cultural landmark and the boys know and respect that. But Jose and Panchito both still got something out of the deal: for starters they have their confidence back, as seeing tthey could keep up with donald after realizing what a legend their friend is restored their own weary souls. Meanwhile, Jose’s newfound fame as the man who found a new brazilian cultural touchstone means his agent was able to get him booked up for a year, while Panchito , after consulting with the good senior martenez, decided ot keep the broach, and use it to get their ranch. And Donald? What did he find?

Donald found his smile again. He’s found himself again. After letting life beat him to near death, to just a souless shell. he’s found the real Donald. He’s realized that despite Scrooge’s finaical abuses he lives a rich full life. It’s part of why I compared the story to city slickers. While Donald’s life is far worse off than Billys, like him he finds himself again after the rousing adventure. And who knows what his future holds? Given Scrooge’s grave picture, yes Rosa drew that, he probably does marry daisy and work for the old bat.. but maybe now he can fight back, refuse to let htem walk all over him and actually find a healthy relationship with daisy and with his uncle before his uncle finally retires to Goldie’s loving arms. I could be wrong, it could be same as it ever was just he gets angry again.. but I like to think of something better for our boy. A better life and one more fufilled and more happy and one where he finally finds his pot of gold. He may not of found it yet but well.. there’s always another rainbow and he realizes that now just as his uncle did years ago. Donald is finally whole again to find his hapniess and a better life. Maybe with daisy, maybe with scrooge, maybe without them. Probably without Gladstone because he needs to cut that tumor out of his life, but still, he’s found himself and sometimes that’s all you need to find your purpose. So with that warm thought in my head our heroes play us out one last time. Well not for the restrospective obviously but still. 

Final Thoughts; While I do prefer the previous story, on going through this again for the review, I did find this story utterly charming and a great way to send off our boys and Donald for Rosa’s work. While again that one word is very unfortunate and Rosa should’ve known better, otherwise the story is pretty imaculate, using history to build a thrilling story with tons of character and a tremendous arc for Donald. And as I said the villian is excellent and overally the story is pretty great. Maybe held back a bit by the racisim, but the rest of the story is so joyous, badass and well crafted, it’s easy enough to override the less savory aspects. Dosen’t mean they didn’t need to be noted it just means this story is magificent and as usual for Rosa’s work I recommend it. 

Next time on the Ride of the Three Cablleros: We go to Disney Juinor for Mickey’s Perfecto Day! ..... whelp at least it’s a short one. 

And if you’d like to comission your own review, their just five bucks, jsut direct message me, tell me what you’d like, and I will send you the link on my paypal and get to it asap. Thank you so much for reading and have a happy holiday. 

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Bearable | A Reddie Fanfiction

Read it from the beginning

Chapter 1

"Bill, why? Why would you say yes to that party? We don't know him! What if he's some serial killer? What if he tries to get us to do drugs? What if he kills us or lives in a dumpster or something?" Eddie is erratic, his drink still in his hand. They were hardly off the block of the little cafe known as Portland Authentic. Eddie hadn't been too fond of the guy behind the counter, mostly because he had written 'Eds' on his coffee cup. "I mean- we only just got to Portland and you're already going to get us killed or something!"

"Eddie, it'll be fine," Stan is the one to cut in with reassurance, taking a sip from his own cup and somehow not flinching at the taste of the straight caffeine, "Yeah, he was a little energetic but he didn't seem malicious. I think it'll be a good opportunity to get to know some new people." Eddie opened his mouth to speak, but Bill beat him to it, and no one had the disrespect to talk over Bill. That was just... off limits, so Eddie shut his mouth again and tried not to grimace.

"Buh-buh-besides," He started, one hand in the pocket of his jeans, the other soaking up the warmth of his cinnamon cappuccino, "It'll be guh-good to get out and see what kind of people Portland has to offer." With that, the discussion was closed, and Eddie let it drop with just a sigh, trying to shake away the lingering annoyance clinging to his mind. There were too many good things about Portland to worry about the bad things- in just a few days he would be working towards his dream as a doctor- he had always wanted to be a doctor. When he was younger, he had wanted his career to be within the health arena for the sake of reassuring his mother that he could take care of himself without being stuck behind a desk- now, though, he wanted to become a doctor to prove his mother wrong, to learn all sorts of things that would help him confirm that he wasn't sick, and had never been sick like Sonia Kaspbrak had said he was.

The rest of the walk back home was near silent, consisting of craned necks and obvious gawking- Portland really was gorgeous, and so different from Derry. Rather than the tiny, modest homes Eddie and his friends grew up knowing, almost everything in the downtown area was some form of 19th century architecture or something alike- each building consisted of warm tones, arched windows, grand streetlamps with pots of colourful flowers. Eddie can't even imagine what it must look like in the daylight.

"Oh, here's my work," Stan said, seeming not to have realized what street they were wandering down. The three halted outside of a small flower shop, Roses on Deane, and approached the large, open windows in the front. The lights were out inside, obviously, but it was still possible to make out the shapes of many many bouquets. Stan had managed to score a job a few months back thanks to a cousin who had a friend who owned the place, and though Stan never considered himself a huge fan of flowers, Eddie could see how the place would fit him. At least one of them had a job- Eddie shudders to think that there is yet another huge thing he needs to get done this weekend. If he doesn't have a job by next weekend then he won't be able to pitch in to help with rent. Bill, who had been working at the library back home, had been transferred here too, so he was also getting payed bi-weekly. Eddie was alone in his unemployment, but that was okay. He was smart, and efficient, and he would get a job sooner or later somewhere.

"When do you start?" He asked, finally bringing his rapidly-cooling drink up to his lips. He braced himself for a horrid taste, taking a slow, tentative sip, and almost letting a sound of approval slip past his lips. It didn't... It didn't taste horrible. Peppermint was okay, in his opinion, and it balanced out the bitterness of the coffee just right.

"Tuesday at 5:00," Stan took one last glance through the window, smiling serenely and turning to continue on to their new apartment. Again, the three fell into silence, calm and comfortable. They walked another three blocks before spotting their building, and Bill was the one to pull out an access card to scan at the door. Their bags were already up in their house, and Eddie had even made a few comments on how he appreciated the security. Electronic locks were unheard of to Eddie until today, and he was pleased. Now, he was too exhausted to be pleased. His coffee had him buzzing, and he would force himself to stay awake until his suitcase was unpacked, but he couldn't wait to curl up in his new bed, away from his hometown for the first time in years.

"We'll have to go grocery shopping tuh-tomorrow," Bill hummed half to himself as he stepped into the elevator, clicking the button labeled with a '2'. "We won't have any fuh-fuh-food. I'll buy us breakfast in the morning."

"Thanks, Bill," Stan smiles, "We can make a meal plan, budget things out. Just to make sure we can always make rent." Eddie nodded along, and took another long sip of the minty-bitter drink in his hand.

"We should go look at the campus. I want to find out where my classes are, maybe." Eddie found himself rocking back and forth on his heels, watching the little glowing number above the elevator buttons blink from 'G' to '1' to, at last, '2'. With a ding, the doors slid open, and a dim hallway was presented to them, the lights on low now that it was just about 10:00 pm.

"I want to go see Back Cove Park at some point. The bird watching is great. They have egrets sometimes, and other birds I haven't seen yet. I always go there when I visit- it's like tradition." Stifling a yawn (not because of the bird talk- Eddie was just tired) Eddie nodded his head. In all honesty, a nature walk sounded nice. Already, he was missing the Barrens, the poor dam he remembers building with Bill ages and ages ago. "It's right on the water, so we can go fishing too, or swimming if you guys wanted to. It isn't always as warm as it is tonight, and it's only getting colder, but..." Stan shrugs. They arrive at their apartment door, number 29, and yet again Bill is the one to pull out his key and stick it into the lock, giving it a twist and pushing the door wide open. Eddie steps inside first, flicking on the light and taking in the sight of his new apartment.

The door opened up into a short hallway. To his direct right there was a door leading to a small closet. A little ways ahead, the hallway broke both left and right, the left way leading to the kitchen and living room along with the doors to the balcony and Bill's room- in turn, the right way led to the main bathroom and the two other bedrooms reserved for Eddie and Stan.

"Wuh-well, I guess this is goodnight," Bill says, shutting the door behind him and kicking off his shoes, "We all have a l-lot of unpacking to do, I'm sh-sure." Both Stan and Eddie nod in near-perfect unison.

"Goodnight, you guys. Enjoy your first sleep in our new house." Stan speaks with a grin, staring at both Eddie and Bill with that intense hazel gaze that seems to communicate the intense reality of the situation. The three men had made it out of their childhood town, and now they were living on their own. They really weren't children anymore. Along with that look in Stan's eyes came a heavy feeling of bittersweetness- Derry was gone, now, and with it, Eddie's childhood. He smiled at his two best friends, and then turned down the hallway to greet his room.

-----

"Alright, that's everything," Ben says as the doors to the cafe swing shut and he locks them tight.

"Another job well done, boy! Another fantastic job, I'd say!" Richie throws one arm over Ben's shoulders, and then the other pulls in Bev by the arm. Crushing his two buddies in a double side-hug, he speaks in his almost-perfected MovieTone Newsreel Announcer Voice, disturbing the silence of the dark Portland streets, "You're both quite the caffeine-mixin' maestros, eh? You'll do great things for this world, great things!"

"Beep-beep, Richie. I'm exhausted." Beverly was smiling, sure, but Richie really could tell that she was done with today. He let both she and Ben go, toning down his behavior and pulling out a pack of cigarettes, offering one to each along with his lighter. Ben declined as politely as possible, so Richie and Bev were left to smoke without him.

"You'll get those beers for me, won't you?" Richie asks, taking a drag and relishing in the way the smoke filled his lungs. He should probably quit sooner or later, huh? Maybe one day. "I've got the cash back home. I'll give it to you and you can just go buy whatever you want. Party booze of your choice." Ben let out a chuckle, waving a hand in front of his face to show his dislike of the cigarette smoke. Richie mumbled something akin to an apology.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll get it. And don't worry about paying me back, I'll be drinking it too." Richie beamed. With a light punch to the shoulder, he turned his attention to Bev, ready to play a little bit of Cupid.

"You're coming too, right Bevvie?" He asked the question as if it were nothing, oh-so subtly bumping Ben with his elbow. Beverly shrugged.

"Probably. It's basically a sin to miss out on an infamous Tozier party, isn't it?" She placed the cigarette against her lips, and puffed out smoke right after. "What else is happening other than drinking too much and getting the Police called on us for being too loud?" Richie couldn't help but snicker at that. The Police had, on numerous occasions, been called on him for playing his music at ungodly levels, but, I mean, come on, he has fantastic taste and the world needs to know it.

"Who knows, maybe some pin the tail on the donkey? Musical chairs?" Ben and Beverly both let out a snort, the redhead spinning to face Richie with suddenly bright eyes.

"Please," She said with a wide, bright smile, "I would pay to see you get annihilated by Ben."

"Excuse me, Miss Marsh, but I pride myself on being a musical chairs master! I was unbeatable in my fifth grade class!" Placing a feign-offended hand on his chest, Richie guffawed, upturning his nose in mock disgust. Beverly was laughing now, a light and cheery sound almost like the jingling of the bell in the cafe but a little less annoying. The bell also didn't make Ben's face light up, and he didn't want to hear the bell forever.

"Probably because you were built like string cheese, Richie- No offense, of course." Beverly only laughed harder at Ben's quip, and yeah, Richie admits that it was pretty good and about 99% true.

"The best damn string cheese you've ever tasted, Haystack," Richie shot his friend a wink, lifting one foot and crushing his cigarette out on the sole of his shoe, "Now, my dearests, I must depart- nice work we did today, you two!" Richie flicked the butt away, speaking over his shoulder as he set off in the direction of home. "I'll see you both at my party!" He spins on his heel, waving Ben and Bev off with one last peace sign before continuing on into the darkness. Richie hummed a little tune to himself, a pep in his step despite his light tiredness. Oh, how he wanted to get home- the idea of cracking open a soda and sitting in front of the TV sounded pretty damn great right about now. For a Friday night the world was surprisingly quiet- the same wouldn't be said about tomorrow. Toziers were born to party. Richie's dad had thrown some ragers in his teenage days, and so had his mom- now, it was his turn to take on the family name and keep that legacy going. Other than beer he probably needed some snacks, chips or cookies or as Ben had so wonderfully suggested string cheese because who doesn't like string cheese? He made a mental note to go grocery shopping tomorrow and hoped that he didn't forget it.

Richie's apartment came into view, a pretty little six floor building made of a nice red brick. He lived on the top floor and his neighbors probably hated him for reasons that should be obvious enough but he'd yet to be kicked out which meant he still had some boundaries to push. He'd been brewing up a new party playlist for a few days now and he made yet another mental note to throw on 'Dancing Queen'. Richie's humming transformed into whistling as he pulled open the door to his building, waving to the late-night receptionist, a kind young lady who hated his guts and probably thought he was flirting with her all the time when he really didn't even swing that way.

"Good evening, m'lady," He said with a goofy, lopsided grin, earning a scowl over the top of a home-deco magazine, "Quite the swell night it is," He didn't linger long, pressing the call button for the elevator and stepping inside. He tapped '6' and waited, his spirits high, excited for tomorrow. He liked getting ready for parties. He liked the decorations he always put up, the arrangement of the snacks that he put too much thought into, and the anticipation of being the host because that always meant most eyes were on him. Up up up the elevator went, and let out a happy little ding as the doors peeled back open and he went right to his door. Richie pulled out his keys, jamming them into the doorknob and pushing the door open to reveal the space inside. "Honey, I'm home!" He called out the words, arms out at his side in a motion of grandeur. Of course, there was no response, and he kicked the door shut with his heel. Richie tossed his keys onto the little table by the door, toeing off each shoe in turn and leaving them discarded in the middle of the entryway.

"Hey there, babes," His first stop was the fish tank on the kitchen counter, packed with swimming little neon tetra and angelfish and Richie's prized bala shark he named Bella- creative, he knows- to sprinkle in some food. The little jar was just beside the aquarium, and he popped off the lid, shaking it above the open water and watching his little pals swim forth for their dinner. With his lasting grin, Richie let out a chuckle, his heart swelling at the sight of his aquatic children as he set the food back on the counter and took a step away. His own stomach let out a growl, and he realized for the first time that he hasn't eaten since after his last class, way back at 3:00. Popping open his fridge, Richie scanned it's contents- yep, he really needed to go get food tomorrow. There was next to nothing. He settled half-reluctantly on some month-old instant ramen and cooked it up with ease. Richie hadn't had instant ramen in ages, but there was a good amount of nostalgia contained within the simple dish. It had carried him through high school one plastic cup at a time, helping him fight through long nights of studying and even a nasty breakup.

The microwave let out three beeps, calling out 'Hey! I'm done, come eat me!' with each and every one. Richie ate it as he hastily cleaned up the kitchen, throwing dishes in the dishwasher and even taking the time to watch a casserole dish by hand, putting on his playlist but keeping the speakers on a low volume for the sake of his neighbors. No more than 15 minutes passed and then he was done, finally allowing himself to do what he's been anticipating all day. With a Pepsi in hand, he made the couch his home, curling up in a knitted blanket and tuning into 'Friends'. As he watched, one eye always on the TV, he snatched the black nail polish from it's spot on the coffee table and began to paint it over the chipped remnants of what was already there. At some point, after they'd dried, he ended up falling asleep on the sofa.