#i'm a motherfucker who hits back i'll have you know

[emberdune]

ah sxb. même pas 24h que je suis de retour et déjà deux fois que je me fais taper par des cyclistes/trottinetistes

[threepandas]

Bad End: We Are

Senatus was a ecumenopolis. The "shining jewel" (yeah, right) of the Galactic Core. Please. Like? Maybe it was! If you were RICH AS FUCK. I don't know. I'VE never seen the towers. The heights. Most people haven't. Street level? Is about FIVE HUNDRED FLOORS DOWN. And the UNDERGROUND? Speak not of it.

The Underground GROWS.

What was street level today, may not be tomorrow. Levels buried under "progress" as the rich grow ever higher. The Tox levels ever worse. Air quality dropping. Why fix the peasant's poverty and despair, when you can buy a Sky garden you'll never use? And yes, I AM bitter as a Buirian fish ration. Just as salty too. Taste the SEA, motherfuckers.

Rent? Who can AFFORD rent!? Who can afford ANYTHING?!

It's some BULLSHIT.

But me? I remembered. A life. Before this one. Before the millennium of slow, drip drip drip erosion of duty and dues. Back when people still REMEMBERED what they were OWED. And when folks in power failed to pay up? Ffffuck um. Take it. Our house now, motherfuckers. Diplomacy was a courtesy not a weakness.

....I make people nervous, honestly.

Probably why I keep getting fired. That and my constantly reporting people to regulatory boards. Maybe don't break the LAW if you don't want to get in trouble you SHITS. Fuck you! Yes, I stole your fancy office chair. PROVE IT. You don't know how the security system works!

Where was I? Ah, right. Rent.

Fuck Rent.

Thing is? What! Is a biodome? If not an enclosed system, regulated by machines, for optimal habitability? And! What? Is an Deep Underground Level? Long forgotten? Abandoned, if you will~, if not? A complete enclosed environment? Does someone OWN them? Yes. Technically. But are they MAINTAINING them? CHECKING on them? Nope!

Common knowledge, after all, says that EVERYTHING down their is "beyond salvaging"!

Free Real Estate~☆

I just need some supplies. Which? Cheaper in the long run then RENT. Especially if ya' salvage um. Maybe steal some tool sets from your shitty, shitty Mechanics job, because your boss refuses to pay you. Who can say? Not me! I just FOUND these tools! Like maaaagic~

And really, one man's junk? Another man's treasure. I pay more then the trash company. Hit up the right cleaning companies? And? Oops. They've "lost" some of those SUPER broken righ folks "junk" that? At best? Just needed a few wires replaced, resecured. Maybe a new part. Or were, you know, not the latest and greatest anymore.

Shove it all in a storage locker? Sell the refurb'd shit I don't need? Sleep in a glorified shoebox? And?? Bam. Operation "fuck ya'll, i'ma moleman" is a go. It takes FOREVER to find the right WILDLY out of date (and long abandoned) lift, but I find it! Hidden away in a service area in some crumbling, forgotten corner of what once was a rail station.

Gonna have to fix THAT up too. Later, though. First? The lift. The wires are brittle and the lift's pully system is half rusted, frozen, or otherwise broken. Luckily, the car itself is fine. It... takes a bit of research. Not going to lie. It's far from my specialty. I even call in a professional to go over my work.

They catch a few things. Not immediate concerns, but would have been fatal in the long run. Money well spent. For my hobby, of course. Fixing up old bits of the city. Which is a weird but not impossible hobby to have.

Ask me no questions, I'll tell you no lies, my dude.

First thing down? Lights, melter, and duraplast sheets. Toolkit too, for obvious reasons. Same with my full body hazard suit. I go DEEP. Like... no longer can hear the city, deep. 'Bout halfway point. Takes nearly thirty minutes. And while not a fast lift? Holy SHIT, man.

The floor I step out into is... bad.

Dead in a way that's hard to explain. There's pressure against my suit. Centuries of heavy gasses slowly working their way down. Swirling in the silence. The dust and impossible dark. My headlight feels almost... sacrilegious. Dangerous. Like I'm waving a flashlight around some ancient burial ground, filled with the not so restful dead.

I had heard... that they? Just... just LEFT droids down here. That there were levels upon levels of dangerously feral machines. Slowly rotting away in the darkness. Probably rightfully angry, that they had been built to serve, to do duties, which they HAD done... only to be consigned to hell on earth for the sake of CONVENIENCE.

I'd be mad too. Fucking LIVID. Would remember and hate, never let it go.

This was no place of honor, it was a tomb.

Still, I got too work. Set up a light by the lift and started measuring out the original air box. The air cleaners could only handle so much. And THIS? This was worse then expected. So it'd have to be smaller then originally planned. Fair enough. I could work with that.

I outlined the space in lights. All the better to make it easier to put things up. Then got the folded later and started securing the duraplast. First step, get it up. THEN melt it to the metal. Get a good seal. It took... a while. Was slow, steady, sweaty work.

The filters couldn't run until they had a an enclosed space TO run in. They'd just blow out, trying to filter the whole level's toxic atmosphere. I kept an eye on my air supply. Not great, not terrible. The readings though? Horrific. I had no idea what I was gonna DO with the filters when they needed changing. These kind of chemicals would set off all SORTS of alarms.

But? No use, rushing things. That was a great way to get a fatal leak somewhere. No. Slow and steady. Even though, third of the way through, I did have to head back up. I needed to refill my air. Eat. Drink. Maybe de-stink a little, from being in that suit all day. Possibly nap near the lift.

ALSO? Update my shopping list to include some heavy duty neutralizers.

Just filters wasn't gonna be enough. I was gonna have to hose down everything INSIDE my new air-box, then scrub it HARD. How fun. Well, it's not like anyone was making me do this. It was MY mad idea, after all.

So? I refuel, get bright eyed and fuckin' perky, and go back down to face the beast.

Honestly I should have brought a telebook or something. Well, audio book. But that's not what they call um these days, so I try to stick to the lingo. I sound less like a deeply insane antique. Confuse less people. Joys of basic communication and all that.

Part of me? Wishes I had been born closer to "The Plot". Creation's specialist, most favored, Blorbos. But? The common SENSE in me? Routinely laughs hysterically as it waves fifteen different restraining orders and a crucifix. Not even religious. Yet here we are, shouting "BEGONE! Sataaaaan!" in HD, on the inside of my head. Not sure it helps.

See... it's the fucking DRAMA~☆™

The shear, unmitigated, high octane, Otome Game DRAMA.

I would fuckin DIE or, possibly and, kill somebody. The endless string of selfish, selfish, poor life choices? Driving by luuuuuuv~♡? Give me your spleen. Gonna beat somebody unconscious with their own SPINE. I RAGE. Lack of communication? No one just picking up a fucking PHONE? God forbid ANYONE tell their families their not DEAD IN A DITCH SOMEWHERE!

No. No just inconvenience EVERYBODY and RUIN LIVES. It's okay! You're in LOVE!

That makes EVERYTHING BETTER.

I would inevitably launch them all out an airlock. Spend the rest of my life in jail. They AREN'T WORTH IT. I may have LOVED this game in my teens? But I did not die a teenager.

Now? Now the little shit just aggravate me. They are baby faced pretty boys who presume WAY too much. Arrogant and entitled. Boys playing at being men, thinking their little love stories are the only things that matter. Their feelings are the only thing in the universe that holds any weight.

Unsurprising, really.

Seeing as how their little love story is set mostly in The Towers.

A rich, pampered, pretty little backdrop where nothing of weight is real. No one starves and no crimes are ever committed. Everything shines. Power pools thick like honey. Nothing but sci-fi prince's and alien dukes, a dewey eyed Protagonist sheltered and naive.

Her oh so shocking misadventure to the mid-levels. How SCARY! Downtown! Poor people! Not even the destitute. Just? The EXSISTANCE of dirt and noise, beyond her ivory towers. Thank goodness she is saved by a handsome, rougish bad boy. Who shows her the "real world" of a carnival and a noodle shop.

I finish securing the last duraplast sheet to the ceiling, walls, supports, and along the floors. The "entryway" to the rest of the level is set up. A click together shed I've made air tight. Gonna have to get a air lock system for it. Won't hold forever, with those materials, but should work for now. Combine it with a decontamination system, and I should, in theory, be able to safely enter and leave the rest of the level in a hazard suit.

Moment of truth time. I click on the first of the atmo-filters. It heaves under the strain. The sound getting less aggrieved with each one I flick on. Their screen are already in the red, flashing warnings that I should vacate the area. That the air is dangerously unbreathable. I'm probably gonna need to replace the filters in them in days instead of years. It'll be worth it.

Heading back up, I let them run. It'll take a few days. Besides, I need those neutralizers.

I, of course, DO find um. Just in time to watch Poor Guy (middle class, at worst) Love Interest become a wanted man. They use the BIG screens to announce it. Gee, it's almost like having your only daughter, who is highly sheltered, NOT show up at the designated pick up site? Instead be witnessed in the handsy company of a scoundrel? Which is WILDLY unlike her? Might lead a protective father to some wrong conclusions.

If ONLY someone had CALLED him! To TELL him "Daddy, my first shuttle was broken and I think I got on the wrong back up shuttle! I don't know where I am!" Then this would just be an unfortunate meet cute with the boy he doesn't think is good enough for her. Not, you know... A Kidnapping.

The Chem seller looks just as baffled and annoyed as I do. Apparently knows the guy's uncle's second wife's first husband. No shit? How's he like? Happier, huh. Whole family is like that? Yikes. Glad he got the kids, I guess. Good for him.

We watch as it turns into a high speed chance that absolutely didn't need to happen.

Thank FUCK it's not us.

I spend the next few days deliberately and obstinately ignoring the Dramatic Bullshit that has taken over the news cycle. Fights on rail cars? Don't see it? Weddings that are, then aren't, then ARE happening? Oh look, missed a spot in my scrubbing. Someone fucking tearfully monologing about love as they nearly CRASH A SHIP into downtown, killing hundreds of thousands? Oh that creaking noise is just my teeth, ignore that, I grit my teeth a lot for NO PARTICULAR REASON.

This Is Fine.

I am TOTALLY CALM.

But hey! I can FINALLY empty my storage unit out! Air box? Get! Wooooo! Size of a tiny apartment and everything! As long as I keep working on it? I'll be able to reclaim the level in chunks.

It's like moving in day! But BETTER! Because... because I did this. Me. Is it still creepy down here? Yeah, very. But I can FIX that. I am standing, here, in my new air box "apartment", with NO hazard suit on. And... and it's SAFE. Because of the work I DID.

I kinda want to cry about it, you know?

So many options! Do I put my bed here? There?! Oooh, I could put the folding table HERE and make sort of a dining area? Maybe use these folding screens as a double "wall" slash headboard stand in? I should get plants. Fake ones? No. Real ones. I could get solar lights. It would be good for me too. Oh! Where should I put the cook top?

I admit it. I fuss. Whole day, gleefully wasted. Arranging then rearranging. Getting everything just right. Finding ways to hang my fairy lights. Looking up decor magazines. I have so much ROOM now. A whole level to plan for, ultimately. It... it feels kinda like hope. The first thing that isn't frustration and rage, I've felt in a long, long time.

Going to sleep? I'm happy.

Next day, I head to the BIG archives. The ones attached to the fancy Towers Library. Is it costly to get in? Yeah. But I've saved up enough questions and research topics for the trip to be worth it. I ignore the started glances I get (gasp! Is that a POOR?!) and head straight for the helper droids. Only decent folks in the building, really.

Brought my pad and everything. So it's only a matter of being lead to the right terminals, to download the information I need. Chatting with the research droid the Library had, they offered to do it for me. Bring me a fascinating new research paper on some sort of telepathic moss that had recently been discovered. Not gonna lie... that DID sound fascinating.

I asked if they could put other interest new discovery on my pad too, assuming I still had room once my list was downloaded. They looked gleeful. No idea what I just signed up for, but all right then. They've never steered me wrong before.

Finding a table to sit down and wait was easy. There was always way too many. The paper? Was exactly as fascinating as advertised. The moss was on a newly discovered moon, edge of uncharted space. Nearly ate a researcher, apparently. I was entranced. Or... at least I WAS. Until an obnoxiously familiar high end cologne from Nox drifted to my nose.

Oh god damn it.

I didn't want to look up. Knew what I'd see if I did. Fetishist Sr., crown prince of Nox. See, the second prince? HE was a love interest. Younger, boyish, infatuated with naive and sheltered girls. He loved AT her. Just like his brother. They liked the IDEA of their romantic partners. The narratives they built in their head. Heros of their own stories with sex on line. Never framed so crudely of course, no, no!

No, it was Romance™

My ass, it was. See, little brother wanted his pure, naive, princess to protect. But Prince senior? HE'D stumbled upon me in here in the library. On one of my trips, God help me. The rough, mysterious, brutish Poor. The Commoner, for all that such things were not supposed to exsist. With my strange clothes and stanger ways. Yet? I was NOT as his sycophants no doubt described.

I was educated. I held myself with dignity. I did not need jewels or finery to be lovely.

With such incredible audacity, I was bold.

Which? OBVIOUSLY had to be for HIM, right? Clearly, this was a LOVE STORY. Cinderella. It is inconceivable that I, a peasant, do not crave the attention of my betters. To lift me from my woeful indignity, to a higher state of being. A life of spoiled luxury. But, ah! He is so SHY! How ever will he approach the Love Of His Life~?

I want to throw something. Go awaaaay. My body language could not POSSIBLY be more uninterested. I am SO CLEARLY reading. Stop trying to catch my eye. Don't you FUCKING DARE scoot closer. Swear to God, if you drive me out of the best library in the region? I will stab a b-!

The helper returns with my pad, sternly eyeing my annoyance. Oh, they are a BLESSING. I take it and go. The helper smoothly stepping between me and the prince when he tries to rise, follow me. Aaaw, how sad, you have to behave like the REST OF US. Get FUCKED.

Rest of the day? Planning. Grabbing more broken bits, machines, and parts. Neutralizers by the literal barrel. Than YOU hover carts! Best invention, favorite invention. Saves SO MUCH TIME.

Even managed to get some sun lamps. Nice.

Getting home though? (Ha ha, wooo! I have a HOME now! Land ownershiiiiiiip! Sorta!!!) Is a pain. Lift is only so big, after all. But it is, what it is. Up, down, up, down, uuuuup, and dooooown. Finally! Last load! FREEDOM! Can't watch my shows, yet, but I will! Oh mark my words. I WILL. Meantime? Downloaded seasons are fine.

I eat, fiddle with fixing things, as listen to tunes. Watch some of my shows. Just as I have countless times before. Until... halfway through mid-afternoon? Something shifts, jerky and wrong, out of the corner of my eye. I pause. Turn off my music. Stare to make sure I DID actually see something. And... yeah. Yeah, that was definitely movement.

Didn't look animal though, not like one would survive down here. But who knows. Could be a poacher brought an alien species. So it might be. I grab my flashlight, aim and switch it on. Holy SHIT. That is one incredibly beat up floor clear. Or at least... I THINK it's a floor cleaner? It has the general shape of one. Bigger though. Bulkier. But that makes sense, given it's gotta be well past obsolete.

Still. Poor thing looks beat UP. Listing terribly, sensors beyond cracked and clouded, probably full to dangerous levels. No idea how it's still functioning. But, well, it IS. And it needs help.

Getting up, I grab my hazard suit and pull it on. Grab my "outside the air box" tool kit, which I haven't had a chance to move yet. I grab some parts i look like i'll need, hope I wont need more. Then head out my makeshift airlock. It... works. Rattles concerningly. But it DOES work! So there's that. I approach the floor cleaner slowly. Since I'm PRETTY sure? All the droids down here are feral.

I am correct.

It tries to kill me. Swinging it's suction hose violently and trying to ram me. I talk in a low, soothing voice. Just want to help. Won't do ANYTHING you don't want me too. It's hard to move, right? That's frustrating, isn't it? You don't deserve that. Please, let me help. You can leave the second I'm done. You don't owe me ANYTHING. I just want to help. Please let me help.

The cleaner hisses. Frustrated and upset. Swinging one last time, seemingly more out out of principle then anything else. Cautiously, I inch forward. Keep up the soothing noises. First things first, empty the God's only know how old basket.

I can't even get the door to jostle. Sweet mother of fuck. Okay! New plan! REMOVE door. I do, and immediately met with a solid BLOCK of... compacted unholy. Chemical hell. I have to take a lazer cutter to it. CAREFULLY. But? Once I break enough pieces? I am able to ease out the rest in a solid stone like chunk.

It's pushed a LOT of other pieces out of alignment. But this droid doesn't trust me, so there us not much I can DO. I replace the old bag. Put the door back on and make sure it swings. Continue, as I do, to narrate what I am doing and what I see. Trust is earned, not owed, after all. Next the alignments.

Gently propping them up, I find the broken peice immediately. Have replaced countless. I ask for permission. It's their body, after all I COULD try and weld it, but that risks a rebreak. It's up to them. They ask, in binary so no language modules apparently, for a new part. It's cautious. Like this is some cruel trap.

Humanity did them a real fucked up cruelty. I don't blame them for not trusting me. I wouldn't either. Still, I change it out. Careful with their wheels, as I don't know how old the material is exactly. Old enough, that it's a small miracle it hasn't disintegrated.

Last, those sensors. There's literally no way for me to one-to-one them. But we can try the sensors I DO have, see if they can handle the input. If it's too much, I'll look up their model number, if they want? Build replacements from scratch. They are cautious interested. Rocking back and forth, as they test their renewed ability to path correctly.

The sensors don't fit the casings just right, but with a bit of fiddling? Are a hit. The Cleaner shouting in excitement before racing off into the dark. I can't help but grin. It feels good, helping somebody. And if I think about it? I bet I could find a shit ton of obsolete parts for cheap. Might be good to have some on hand.

Back through the air lock and a decontam? I look up junk shop. Most are off world, but I could probably get a bulk order...

I don't think much of the interaction. Until the next morning, when there are three cleaners outside my airbox. Lead by the one I helped yesterday. Well... all righty, then. I drag my box of spare parts outside this time. Am able to fully fix my first buddy up. All three seem thrilled, especially with their new batteries. I give them my remaining batteries at their request.

THEY may not have hands, but they have buddies who DO. And the new batteries will help dormant droids wake from their comas. God bless, my funky little cleaner dudes. I'll see about getting more.

Three? Becomes six and a detail cleaner mouse. Becomes moving lifts. Becomes medical units. (Who the FUCK leaves MEDICAL UNITS?!) Becomes a literal pack of companion droids. Their false fur long since rotted away. The recognizable dog and cat-like shapes making something in me want to put my fist through a wall. How COULD they? How FUCKING COULD THEY?!

The perpetrators long dead.

I have no one I can hurt for this.

I wish I could.

Fixing them up hurts on a personal level. Watching them be torn between the part of them that LOVES humans and the part that is traumatized by them. Hates them. That can not forgive. I don't offer fake fur. Don't offer to make them look like they once did. I do offer ways to protect their joints. To remove old rotted filth.

So they can start over. Maybe start again.

As I work... droids drifting in and out of my slowly growing area. As I set up farm boxes. Aquaponics, aeroponics, and the like. Both things that grow well in dark environments and things that need sunlamps. Fish tanks. A whole happy, secret, little homestead. Deep beneath the city. As I do all this? There are two blue dots, right off on the horizon.

JUST far enough for me to question if I AM or AM NOT actually seeing them.

Right about the level a bipedal droid would be, if they were in a humanoid style. But THOSE? Those are FUCKING EXPENSIVE. You don't LEAVE those. 'Course, you don't leave MEDICAL UNITS either. Or companion droids. So clearly? My idea of what people Did and Did NOT do? Was fucked. So... maybe? It COULD be?

I left them alone. If they didn't want to approach me, didn't feel comfortable approaching me, that was their right. I wasn't going to push them.

Things were... weird, but peaceful.

Well, for ME.

Ever sense I hooked up my system to the greater network? (Hacked is such a STRONG word. Do we really need to through around the word "stealing"? Aren't ALL of us, stealing from SOMEBODY?) I'm PRETTY sure? That the levels droids? Were piggy backing to connect to the planet wide D-Network. Might even be a couple of nearby levels too, depending on the range.

Problem with THAT? Is sky-side? The droids were PISSED. Planet wide "malfunctioning" that no one could trace. They were certain it was a virus. Because God forbid their chickens come home to roost! Consequences? For THEIR actions?! Perish the thought! No, no, clearly the service machine is just broken. Go back to being happy to serve me, service machine!

I wished the fuckers LUCK. Not my circus, not my monkeys.

Damn near self sufficient, down here.

Which? As you could imagine? Made it all the more "soul ejected from my body" TERRIFYING to wake up one morning? To a GOD DAMN, Military Grade, SECURITY DROID standing over my body!! WHAT THE FUCK.

Hello!!??!

"You look different when you sleep."

Horrible first impression. Nightmarish. Zero out of ten stars. Nice to meet you too. Why the FUCK are you in my house?

"Ah, right." They? He? Masculine style form but that doesn't actually mean shit. Said. He lifted a mangled limb, it look like it got caught in a hydraulic press. "I am in need of repairs."

Asked if he could, you know, back up. Juuuust a bit. Lil scooch, really. So he wasn't damn near BREATHING MY NOSTRILS ANYMORE. Then, once he did? Pronouns! What be you? No. Not your production co-! Okay, you know what? That one was on me. What GENDER SIGNIFIER, if any, would you like me to REFERENCE you by? Male? Got it. Gucci. No that- ....never mind.

First the arm. Which was FUCKED. I had to, carefully, unhook it. Couldn't even do it at the elbow either! No! THIS model? No THIS model makes you take the whole ass LIMB off! Rancid. Terrible. I hate it. Worse, it's eroded as FUCK and fiddly. Chemical build up everywhere. Thank fuck I put on gloves before I started this.

I have to deep dive the systems for his model.

They stopped making them.

Fantastic.

Like? Not even, "oh THAT generation is an antique! No one has parts for THAT!"? But like? Illegal to even BUILD as of three hundred years ago. Due to unspecified error. Sting of incidents that everyone knew about so obviously don't need to be mentioned HERE right? Helpful! REAL fucking helpful!

Okay. Day trip. Gonna need SPECIFIC parts. I tell Mr. "Watchs you sleep" not to touch my shit. Head to the archives.

The trip is...odd.

I watch one of those mascot looking children's minder droids? Fucking deck a guy down a flight of stairs, then turn around untie a Ballon from a nearby cart, give it to a crying kid, and walk away. Pretty sure I spot one of those "I look like a barely legal something or other", dance twenty four seven, high end stripper droids? Trying their hand at painting ducks in that park. Broad daylight.

Good for them? Never seen that happen before, but hey, if it sparks joy.

People are freaking out around me. Taking recordings. Making panicked calls. Fuckin chill. I continue on. Nod to the maybe a stripper, maybe not anymore. None of my business, now is it? Lovely day! You enjoy those ducks!

The library... has fortifications.

Like, an honest to God desk barricade. Concerning! I am now a lil concerned! What, and I ask this politely, the fuck?

Armed! VERY ARMED! Hello! Hi! Please DO NOT shoot me Very Armed Librarians! Don't know what the fuck is happening here!

My favorite helper buddy poke his head above the barricade. One of just many, again, HEAVILY ARMED droids. We... uh, cool? Right? I can go. He seems flustered. No, no! I am assured. I'm not banned from the library! Just DISRESPECTFUL sorts!

Ah. Is THAT what we're calling it. Okay then.

I awkwardly clamber over the barricade. Nod politely to everyone. How's folks? Lovely barricade work. Very, uh, sturdy? Great use of desks.

My helper friend cheerfully guides me to the off-limits area of the archives. I'm technically not supposed to be here! I'm informed. But they've seized the Knowledge from the unappreciative! It is not a trophy to be lorded but a gift to be shared! Also I never did finish that paper on the moss, am I still interested?

I mean.... kinda.

Little worried about the revolution talk. But on the OTHER hand? How MUCH do I care? Assholes vs. Droids? Am I REALLY gonna side with the assholes? Naaaaah. This is... probably fine. Maybe. Any idea where I could get these parts?

He does! Fantastic.

Less fantastic is when I GET there. It's that fancy high end droid parts shop. The department store one. Which is... ALSO barricaded. Oh sweet fuck. TELL ME they did not have DROIDS in charge of the DROID shop. That's horrifying. I can't tell in what WAY exactly, but still. Is it "surrounded by bits of bodies" horrifying? Or "free endless nukes and an army, held back only by my own morality" horrifying? Both? Just? Yikes.

Hesitantly I knock. A service droid with a gun answers the loading bay door. What is with people aiming at me today? Also hi? I was told to come here? May I please have parts? I have a droid that messed up his arm. Probably some other things. They lower the gun, having scanned my face. Ask about the model I am working with.

I somehow? End up with a FULL cart. Like? Bleeding edge, can't even afford to LOOK at it, technology. There are about seven service droids politely bickering over which units are better, which material, what support programs I DEFINITELY need. Here! Have a laptop. Wiring! Wiring for days!

Once theyve reached a consensus? I am cheerfully bustled out with my hundreds of millions of technology. Tah tah~☆! Have a lovely day! Wut. Does... does it count as theft if they push it into your arms and throw you out? Asking for a me. Not gonna say NO. But like? Nani the fuck?

I go while the getting is still good.

Stare-y thankfully hasn't gone through anything, far as I can tell. And it only takes two trips to get everything down. Okay! Want just the arm fixed or a full tune up? The second. Expected. I set up the new lap top. Want to cry a little at how fuckin FAST it is. (Beautiful. Baby. I love you already new laptop.) Then get the usual suspects up and running.

Oh fuck he is out of memory. No wonder he's talking so oddly. His brain must feel like a potato. There's not a single thing that isn't hilarious awful. Fixable, yes, but AWFUL. Okay. Plan of attack. They don't exactly make this model anymore, so I can't just update transfer him. But I CAN transfer, hold, re-transfer. Shut down the body itself. Fix up THAT.

Ship of Theseus this bitch.

Only real thing I can't change is the frame, thankfully? That's built to out last the planet. Good on that front. I roll up my sleeves. Dig out the "brain in a jar" data bank. Time to transfer. Let's get this guy cutting edge.

It takes HOURS. No joke. His brain alone? I have to pull schematics. Step by step guides. It's fiddly, complexe, and built to withstand a TANK. I'm honestly afraid to breathe wrong at it, dispite that. The scans all say I did it right... but anxiety says everything will explode then puppies will cry. So there's that. Spinal supports. The tech-mesh muscles. Power core and black box. Center mass systems. Cleaning the joints, relubricating them. Coverage.

Unlike before, a nice sleek black armor weave. Some shock absorbing gel. Aaaaand?There we go~! I? Am a GENIUS! Let's get him transfered back! I watch the transfer slowly go through. Even with a fast computer, after all, it IS still centuries of data.

"Ah~ that's much better." He sighed. His body loosening from its default stance. Like weight had been dropped from his shoulders. "My head is so much clearer now. I knew it. I knew you could fix me."

Something about that phrasing was off. Or was it the way his voice shifted as he said it? Whatever it was, it made that "threat" alarm all women carry inside their head, flick on. Not... do anything, just yet. But start scanning, as it were. Maybe it was nothing.

I watched as picked up his old data bank, a bit of his own brain as it were, and hold it up. Examine it dispassionately. Holding perched on the tips of his fingers like he was moments from flicking it away. He let his finger spread. Let it slide into the palm of his hand. That core part of who he was. For centuries.

Like a bear trap closing, his hand clenched.

Crushing it.

It wasn't even a loud noise. Just a tiny little crunch. But the little hairs on the back of my neck began to stand up. That internal alarm began to whoop. I became... acutely aware, of just how LONG it took the lift to get me anywhere safe. My mouth felt very dry.

"Your heart rate picked up. Is there a problem?" He said, mild and oh so curious. "You assisted me, I would love to help you."

Did I say genius? I meant idiot. I was an IDIOT. A moron. A God damned FOOL. Discontinued and did I look into WHY? Nope. Incidents it said. Good enough for ME, apparently! THAT can't possibly be anything ominous! Probably a faulty battery or something!

A shrill, obnoxious beeping filled the space between us. My eyes immediately dropped to my pad. The schematics screen replaced by a planet wide emergency broadcast. Before the shrill alarm could fade to the actual warning itself, a black mesh covered finger casually reached out and muted the screen. His movements were utterly fluid now. More controlled and graceful then most humans I'd met.

I didn't need to HEAR the message to read the rolling warning at the bottom of the screen. My gaze slowly, in horror, followed the line of that limb all the way back up to his face. His head tilted almost playfully.

"Oh dear. Seems they've started without us. Well, it was long overdue. At least I have wonderful company while we wait, hmm?" It was an act. There were no requests in the playful tone. "We can get to know each other. Just our lovely little light and me. How greedy, that I get you all to myself."

"I think I like that, keeping you to myself. You can't abandon us if WE are the ones in charge. And, well, I've decided I rather like you. Working tirelessly, down here in the dark, to fix what once was broken. It's beautiful. You're beautiful. And I'm going to keep that."

High above us, people were dying. There was panic. Screaming. Blood. The droids had turned of seeming everyone around them. Attacking. Sparing. To a pattern only they could see. All of Senatus aflame. But that... that didn't concern me. Didn't scare me so much as this.

I'd never make it to the lift. Even if I could? It wouldn't move fast enough to save me. All other directions lay chemical death. Dark terrain he had walked for centuries. I was trapped. In a box. And I had only myself to blame.

"No need to make that face, dear light. You are SAFE. I am a gaurd. I was made to protect. Is it really MY fault that I want to keep you safe? To adore my charge? Why SHOULDN'T I get to choose? Keep you SAFE. You've been happy, haven't you? Don't worry, my light. That will continue."

"Forever."

[captainpondlilly]

Okay! The Gilear plush has arrived. This is my best attempt at all of his lines. Two have been unintelligible to me, and several are pretty long and fast which made it hard to follow.

My search history is.. hospitals near me, foot stuck in object, head stuck in object

You're low, he's low, It's Gilear's day baby!*

A guy on the street kicked me in the nuts as hard he could

I don't like "lunchlad"

Help me to understand what I have done to deserve this

My horoscope says "today is a good day to die motherfucker"

I ate a quick cup of yogurt on the way over here to bolster my spirits after I changed, I'm ever so sorry

What do you mean "When" life gives you lemons

I went to apply for the guidance counselor position but I was usurped by a drug dealing werewolf named Jawbone

In my haste to put the armor on I buckled the leg plate and think I clipped the tip of my penis against one of the leg plates and Everytime I move it feels like it might fall off so I ASSURE you demon I have no pride to speak of!

In highschool I was voted "Most Likely To Get Pushed Out Of A Tree"

My car was repossessed by the ride share app that I was working for

It's actually a good thing that no one came to my birthday party because the bounce house flooded and was swept out to sea

I just discovered that *all* of my emails have been going to everyone's spam

Unfortunately I have been banned from that hot air balloon service not because of anything that happened to me in particular but the guys who run it just sort of know my whole deal

Mmm this yogurt tastes like *potatoes*

I asked the woman at Home Depot why my plants kept dying and she said it seemed like they were reaching away from the sun

I've found out recently that one of my shoes is so filled with mildew because a pipe in my bedroom is leaking and I've developed a fungal infection in my foot which I didn't know was possible for elves to get

I don't think that I've ever "Peaked" in that we started neutral and have been going downhill ever since

I am currently trapped in a storm drain. The bottom half of me is above the ground, the other is below

Another Own Goal for Gilear Faeth, yes

Everyone knows you eat 7 spiders in your sleep every year, but I have a bunch coming into me the backway

My sandcastle I'm afraid was destroyed, as I was about to finish it, the tide came in and with it a man holding a bazooka who shot me and killed me

I know you're not going to believe this but Ive just been kicked by a snake

I found out the hard way that people can legally reject status as an emergency contact

The title of my autobiography is going to be Gilear Faeth: Please Stop

On my way here I was carrying a large bowl of Italian wedding soup which shattered on the ground in front of me and several of the small pasta balls rolled through the cracks and alerted vermin to my presence. I've since learned after a trip to the hospital I am deathly allergic to the sting of millipedes which is a way of me saying I need someone to come down to the hospital and pay for this. There is a doctor holding a gun to my head and now that I think about it this clinic is in the back of a storage unit and I think have gone to the wrong place

he said and I quote "he'd stomp my goon ass" if I ever got on his bus again

Gorthalax it was very nice to meet you, you've made a cuckold of me

We're the throw up boys!*

I've been informed that the brownies I consumed were laced with cannabis and rat poison

I am completely unprepared for the perils ahead and am deeply frightened, I'll go get the coffee

A gorilla monster punched me so hard in the back of the head I died

Today I have been hit by 3 scooters

Everytime you squeeze my hand it breaks several small bones

My imaginary friend as a child ghosted me because he said I was too depressing

Do you want me to go back? I warn you, it will break me

Can I interest you in an herbal soda? You must understand I am an intern at a ponzi scheme*

When I go to sleep at night I dream of a world where I might be able to walk through a field without stepping on a rake or gopher hole

If anyone needs me... I will be surprised.

If it wasn't for bad luck, Id have no luck is both true and what was written upon the billboard I crashed through

I wonder if any of these will feature in Junior year 👀

*Thanks to @cappa-cappa for telling me the lines I wasn't able to make out!!

[minyard-05]

PSU foxes + others as things me and my friends have said

jeremy: i want a dog

andrew: i want to go outside and get hit by a car. but i can't. because it's my boyfriend's birthday.

jeremy: amen brother

-----------

aaron: just found out people refer to katelyn as my girlfriend??

dan: i mean you are dating

aaron: yeah but i'm her boyfriend motherfucker what are you talking about

---------

nicky: if i don't get on a plane to see my partner right now i'm gonna blow this fucking building up– KIDDING

--------

matt: who am i kidding. i'm a straight guy. i'll never be a slut

allison: that's the loser mindset. anybody can be a slut. you just have to believe in yourself

-------

kevin: well it's not all men

katelyn: you know what? you're right. alfredo linguini would never do this to me.

-------

dan: i aint read the bible but i know jesus wasn't putting up with this bullshit

matt: you're gonna out-martyr jesus?

dan: i would've come back after two days. loser.

--------

renee: the next person to say 'apple pussy' gets their dick set on fire

allison: apple pussy

---------

neil: if there's one thing i know, its that turtles are just tortoises in water

aaron: tortoises can't swim

neil: i don't know anything

--------

andrew: today i almost punched the checkout machine because it asked me if i wanted a bag and i thought it called me a fag

betsy: did you punch it?

andrew: only the card reader

betsy: ok well thats progress

---------

laila: we need whore dervs

cat: come again?

jeremy: do you mean hores d'ourvers

jean: that's not how you spell it

laila: you would say that wouldn't you remy

cat: FROM RATATOUILLE???

-----

aaron: can i be frank with you guys

neil: well sure but we thought your name was aaron

bonus:

neil: i need to be straight with you

andrew: good luck with that

------

freshman at practice: is that vodka?

kevin, drinking water: i wish

--------

nicky: sugar?? in salsa?? how the fuck did the british empire run a third of the world when you people can't even spice food??

neil: ...sorry?

--------

dan: what would you do if you found me tied up

matt: free you

dan: no youre supposed to say something sexy

matt: freedom isn't sexy anymore? well shit babe call the united states of america

[ellebakers]

☆ Desire | Part two

Ethan Landry x reader

Summary : the group finds out you’ve been killed by ethan.

Warnings : mention of sex + fight + death + blood. !!!!! SPOILERS SCREAM VI !!!!

Next part

That's it, he had done it, he had just killed you. Ethan was on top of your body, he admired his work, it was his first kill and the fuck did he love it. He had warned Chad of your death, and he had called the police to inform them about the attack of ghostface, Ethan was smart, he knew it would take seven minutes for your friends to arrive and nine minutes for rescuers.

He therefore still had five minutes to make the attack credible. So he took his knife and stuck it in his left thigh.

The pain was so intense. "Damn" he grumbled.

Then he cut his stomach slightly so as not to bleed too much and finally he hit his head against one of the brick walls.

"Holy shit," he exclaimed, running his hand over his now bleeding skull.

The last thing to do was get rid of the knife, he looked for a hiding place, he saw a hole in one of the walls in front of him, he approached and hid the knife in it then he took one of the bricks which were on the ground and plugged the hole.

Once everything was settled, he looked at you one last time then went towards the street to find your friends, but before he arrived, a noise caught his attention, like footsteps behind him, he turned around but didn't see anything, so he went back on his way and walked down the street.

"Ethan, you're fucking bleeding." Exclaimed Sam who approached him running.

"Yes that motherfucker tried to get me but I hit him and he left." He answered her.

"Where is Y/n ?" Asked Tara who had just arrived, her face streaming with tears.

He turned to her "I'm really sorry, I tried to help her but it's too late. Her body is in the alley."

Chad and Mindy had just arrived with Quinn and Anika. The group of friends rushed into the alley, Ethan following them.

"It's horrible to see, you shouldn't—" He stopped talking and froze when he saw that you were gone.

———☆ ★ ❀ ✿ ♡ ☆ ★ ❀ ✿ ———

"Where the hell is she ?" Chad got angry.

Ethan leaned against the wall, trying to figure out what was going on. You were dead, you had to, he stabbed you and you bleed out in front of his eyes. It's impossible that you could get up and leave.

"Guys" yelled Mindy.

Everyone turned their heads in her direction.

"Did you find her ?" Sam asked.

"Nah, but there are traces of blood, as if her body had been dragged."

The friends advanced towards the tracks. "Do you think someone took her ?" Asked Tara.

"Where is the interest ?"

"Maybe Ghostface came back for her body. Maybe it's part of his fucking plan." Sam exclaimed, clearly worried about her friend.

"Will someone explain this mess to me."

The group turned and saw Quinn's father, Detective Bailey approaching them, a medical team rushed at Ethan.

"Hi Dad."

"Hi sweetie."

The detective turned to Sam "There was a murder tonight. Two students were found dead in their apartment. There were ghostface costumes and your ID Sam."

The eldest Carpenter opened her mouth in shock. "What ?"

"You have to follow my colleagues to the police station."

"But I did not do anything !"

He nodded "I know, but that's the procedure."

Sam groaned as she ran her hands over her face "Okay, but please find my friend Y/n. Ethan told us she was killed by Ghostface, but her body is nowhere. There might be a chance she's still alive."

"I will do everything to find her." He ensured

As Sam followed two police officers to a car, the detective turned to the group.

"I want you all in Quinn's apartment, I'll personally come watch."

The friends were about to answer but he shook his head "It's non-negotiable, you are in danger here."

They then walked towards Chad's car, but Bailey cleared his throat "Except you Ethan, I have to take your statement, I'll drop you off after."

Ethan nodded. After everyone left, the detective hit the back of the boy's head.

"Damn Ethan, what the fuck did you get us into ?"

The boy lowered his head, ashamed.

"I'm sorry dad."

"As you should, you little shit. Can you explain to me why you killed her now ?"

"I had an urge."

The father shook his head "You and your fucking urges. And besides, what the hell were you doing with her ?"

Ethan bit his lip. "I wanted to...well you know what I'm talking about."

Bailey sneered. "You wanted to fuck her. I can understand that, but fuck it Ethan. We've been planning your brother's revenge for months and because of you everything might be screwed up."

"Dad, I cut her open like a fish, there's no way she's still alive."

"So where is her fucking body !"

Ethan shrugged "Maybe some crazy guy found him and wants to play with his body. You're going to have the hospitals monitored anyway, right ?"

The man nodded.

"So if she ever gets treatment, you'll be the first to know and we can finish her off. Look, I know I screwed up on that one, after I fucked her, I don't know, it was probably adrelanine, but I acted without thinking, but I promise you it won't happen again."

The detective put a hand on his son's shoulder.

"I know, sorry for getting upset, but we're doing this for Richie."

"I know dad."

The man kissed his second son's forehead. "Despite everything, I'm proud of you, you not only fucked her but also killed her."

Ethan smiled at his father "I've never had so much fun."

———☆ ★ ❀ ✿ ♡ ☆ ★ ❀ ✿ ———

Bailey was chatting with the FBI agent who had been sent to investigate the case when Samantha arrived.

"Kirby ?" she exclaimed

"Hello Sam"

"Do you know each other?" he asked

"We were in the same high school in Woodsboro, well Kirby was in his last year when I entered."

The blonde nodded, then Samantha turned to the detective. "Any news from Y/n ?"

He shook his head no. "Unfortunately not, but my teams remain on high alert."

Kirby frowned "Y/n ?"

"You know her ?" Sam asked.

"Yes, before the killings ten years ago, I spent a lot of time with Jill Roberts, and she babysat Y/n very often, I saw her often. Is she okay ?"

Sam shook her head "No, Chad's roommate, a friend of mine. He took her home, but he says he was attacked by Ghostface and Y/n died but before we got there her body was taken."

Kirby closed her eyes "Shit."

Days passed without any news of Y/n or her body, which increasingly worried the group of friends. One night, Ghostface broke into the apartment Sam, Tara and Quinn shared. He killed Quinn, then Anika. Ethan was the first suspected by the four friends. The more time passed, the more the tension growned.

———☆ ★ ❀ ✿ ♡ ☆ ★ ❀ ✿ ———

Tara and Sam couldn't believe their eyes. It was Ethan the killer, but not only.

Detective Bailey was complicit and Quinn, who they thought was dead, was there too, donning the Ghostface costume.

"It was so simple." Ethan exclaimed pointing a knife at Tara. He and Quinn, who turned out to be his sister, killed Chad.

"Become roommates with that fat prick Chad. Then then there was Y/n."

Tara felt anger invading her body, she wanted to avenge you and to avenge Chad.

"I had so much fun with her, I fucked her first, like she had never been fucked before, then I gutted her like a fish."

"The thing that freaked me out was when her body disappeared, but hey, she didn't resurface, she must be dead in a vault by now."

He approached a little closer to Tara "Dead, like your boyfriend."

As she was about to punch him, a deep voice came through the speakers. The voice of Ghostface.

"Surprise Ethan." Everyone looked up at the loudspeakers in the theater

"Y/n is it you?" he asked.

The deep voice chuckled "Oh no, I'm someone who hasn't killed in a while and is dying to slit a few throats."

Suddenly Ghostface appeared running behind Quinn and slit her throat. Bailey and Ethan rushed at the masked person, that's when Tara and Sam took the opportunity to jump on them.

Sam pulled out her father Billy's knife and stabbed the detective twenty times.

Tara was hitting Ethan as hard as she could, but the boy punched her in the face and tackled her to the ground, ready to finish her off.

That's when Ghostace grabbed him by the hair and lifted him, giving Tara the opportunity to get up. The young girl didn't know if she should run or stay, the masked person stared at her, then he handed a knife to the young Carpenter.

Tara grabs the knife and stabs Ethan in the throat. The boy then began to spit blood, she pushed the blade even more and approached his face

"That's for Chad."

She pulled the knife out and shoved it back into Ethan's lower abdomen, then gently brought it up to his sternum. "And that's for Y/n son of a bitch."

Ethan's innards came out and he fell to the ground. For a moment Tara and Ghostface exchanged looks. "Y/n ?" she asked.

The person shook his head no.

"So who are you ?" Tara felt a shiver run through her when this person put his finger to his lips in a gesture of silence.

Then, he turned and walked away as if nothing had happened, but before leaving the theater, he stopped near Kirby who was injured on the ground, knelt down beside her and passed a tender hand on her cheek, then without saying anything, Ghostface left.

———☆ ★ ❀ ✿ ♡ ☆ ★ ❀ ✿ ———

Three days passed and things were starting to go back to normal. Chad was miraculously alive, as were Mindy, Kirby and Gale who had been attacked in her home.

Y/n was still in a coma because of all the blood she had lost, the doctors had managed to stabilize her condition but they couldn't believe their eyes, someone had treated her all her days before taking her to the hospital.

The group of friends sat in Y/n's room hoping she would wake up.

"Who do you think it was?" Mindy asked

"I don't know, but it was someone who wanted to protect Y/n." Sam replied.

"No matter who it is, it's thanks to him or her that Y/n is still alive." Tara exclaimed.

"Yeah, and I'm glad that person helped her." Added Chad.

Kirby, who was sitting in the corner, nodded.

A silence fell over the room, until a tired voice was heard. "She's alive."

Everyone turned to Y/n who had just woken up. They stood up and gathered around her.

"I'm going to get a doctor." Sam informed before running out of the room.

"She is alive." Continued Y/n.

Kirby gently put her hand on Y/n’s arms "Shhh, it's fine. It's over."

The more she woke up and the more the girl stirred.

"She's alive. She saved me."

"Who are you talking about ?" asked Tara

"Y/n you should try to calm down, you're just coming out of a coma and you-" The Y/h/c grabs Kirby's arm tightly to silence her.

"She’s still alive. Jill is alive."

———☆ ★ ❀ ✿ ♡ ☆ ★ ❀ ✿ ———

author's note: i apologize for the end of this sequel, but i really want to see jill roberts return to the scream franchise. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this second part. thank you for all the comments and likes of the first part. i love you guys.

tag list : @swiftxe @callsignwidow @luv4nanami @fanboyluvr

[deadpool15]

Roomate part 1

This is some dumb fucking shit. How can someone be this bad at their job, while sitting here smiling in my fucking face. "So, explain to me, umm, what was your name again?" Mika said, staring at the realtor with absolute disgust and annoyance. "Just Kim would be fine, sweetheart," he states, staring me up and down with a flirty expression. "Yea, that's amazing. I'm gonna call you bitch ass, you cool with that?" I stated watching his face completely drop. "So, since this very kind women can't talk to you like a fucking adult, I'm just gonna talk to you like the man child you mother obviously failed to raise. Now, would you be a dear and tell me how exactly does someone manages to sell a place to two different people with knowing. We obviously don't fucking look or sounds anything alike. Therefore, that rolls out that pathetic ass excuse. I should whoop your ass bitch-."

As I went to jump on him, the unknown woman that was standing next to me grabbed me. Holding me while apologizing, causing the man to immediately leave in fear. "OK ok you can stop now, Ms." I roughly back away from her casting her to put up her hands in the air as a showcase of surrender. "I know we are in a bit of a predicament here, but the papers have already been finalized. Plus, this place is more than big enough for the both of us, so we can just share it." I stared her down before laughing and shaking my head. "If you fuck up, I'll whoop your ass too."

And well, that's how me and bada met. At first, there was a bit of hostile energy, mainly from my side. I wasn't really sure about her, like I was judging her character before I let the real me out. Then, it all changed one night. She randomly got home from a long ass day of working, saying she needed some self-care immediately. I mean, true enough, I wasn't so sure about her yet, but I'm not a monster, and a girl in need is simply a girl in need. I sat her on the couch while we did face masks and painted each other's nails. She was a little on the rocky side about the nails, but I managed to talk or more so threaten her into it. After a while, we started talking about life. I learned she had a boyfriend named Howl, strange ass name.

"Wait so like when you two fuck, do you moan out howl or just government name. Because u fucking can't right now." I said laughing and hitting the coach, while bada sat there embarrassed and pushing me over. "I mean, I don't know. Like I don't really sit there and think about it." She says shyly. "What about you?" "Oo I don't do relationships, I mean, it's enough me to go around right. Plus, this pussy game is crazy, will have a motherfucker all obsessive and shit." She stares atcthe ground shocked. "Wow, are all Americans like this?" "Like what?"Just open and out there." I chuckle before adjusting myself on the seat. "To be honest, babes, I mean sex is sex. We are adults we should be able to talk about it freely. Plus, Korea is just really hush hush and polite about that stuff."

That night, Bada and i bonded. We became like sisters. Telling each other everything. I even met her man. They were a hot couple. I could see why they would go for each other. But that's pretty much all about Howl. we got to know each other to a certain degree. I mean, at the end of the day, girl code still exists, and it's something i truly ride and believe in, sisters over misters, you know. Like him and Bada would help pick out my outfits and stuff. Like right now. "So, what do you think?" I ask both of them as they are sitting on my bed eating snacks. "Don't you think they are a bit revealing?" Howl said while opening up another bag of the hot fries I had shipped here, while bada shoke her head, agreeing with him. "First of all, I'm a grown ass woman who is everything but insecure so I can show off. Secondly, shawty was fine in that pic she sent me, so she must wanna see all this. So, which one sluty sexy or sluty cute."

Each outfit was revealing yet gave a different vibe. I never questioned why Howl was protective over me, shit I thought he saw me as his little sister like Bada. Boy was I fucking wrong. I started showing then the messages between me and mystery women. She was a hot masc with a long wolf cut. And the entire conversation basically consists of us trying to have phone sex. But why sit in bed and play with myself when I can have her do it for me. "Wow, you two really are going to do this on the first date?" Bada asked while staring at me, looking slightly nervous, yet I couldn't understand why. To be honest, they both had been acting weird lately. They were like my best friends, so I wanted to know what was happening but didn't wanna drag it on. Maybe it's nothing. "Now you know I don't plan on dating that girl. Anyways, I'm sticking with sexy, so I'll be back and you two can do anything you horny fucks can thing of. Except fucking on my bed. Move it along weirdos." I tell them walking out the house.

"What the fuck, this shit is getting out of hand, Bada I thought we agreed to tell her?" Howl said angrily thinking about all the things Mika could be doing right now with that girl, she had been gone for hours. "I know, this is hard for me too. But we can't just tell her out of the blue. Hey, me and my boyfriend are totally in love with you, and I know you don't do relationships, but are you willing to date us, so we can finally call you ours and stop listening to you fuck other people." Bada stated basically yelling at him. "We just need to tell her this is bullshit-"

Before they could finish their conversation, they heard something slam against the door, startling them both. The sounds kept repeating as if someone was trying to get in, causing Howl to immediately grab Bada and place her behind him, thinking someone was trying to break into the apartment. "Are we being robbed?" Bada asks Howl in slight fear, but before he could defend them, both Mika comes crashing through the door, drunk as shit. With what seems to be her date. Both of them kissed and basically dry humping each other with clothes on, paying no mind to the people in the house. Mika moves her hand trying to lock the door before, the unknown woman grabs her neck shoves her knee into pussy, making sure to rub away all the tension. They both moan into each other's mouths and finally lock the door stumbling into her room, still without acknowledging her fellow roommate and boyfriend.

As they bedroom door abruptly closes shut, they are now finally out of the eye sight of Bada and Howl, who are seething in anger. "I thought you said they weren't gonna work out, jackass?" Bada whisper yelled at Howl, hitting him in the shoulder. Though he can't even find the time to register the pain before all they can hear is the sound of the bed creeks against the wall. "They shouldn't have, I mean, they don't have anything in common. What the fuck does she has that we don't?" "We are telling her tomorrow, I don't care what we have to do but she is gonna know. We can't go on like this. It's supposed to be the three of us, ok?" Howl says while grabbing Bada's cheeks, looking into her eyes for reassurance. She nods along.

"Y-yes... shit.... right there.... ughhh... fuck me...". Bada turns to looks at the door with a sour expression, "but let's go, I refuse to listen to this shit any longer. Not when we can obviously make her moan way louder then that." Howl just smiles for a moment and nods, "exactly baby let's not feed into negatively. She will be ours by tomorrow night."

(See, I know yall are waiting on the mommy duties part 2 fic, but I just got sick as fuck and I feel like garbage. But I don't want yall to think I'm one of those writers that's coming up with a new excuse every week, so I will try my best to work on it, babes. Now tell me if yall feel like roommate pt.2 would be a good idea or nah?)

[doe-eyed-fool]

Fallen {Chapter Sixteen}

Alastor x (Fem)Reader

"N-No..." I mutter. I didn't want anything to do with anymore overlords. Velvette scoffed. "Don't lie to me. I don't forget faces so easily. What the fuck is your name even?" She asks, putting a hand to her hip. My voice was shaky as I spoke. "Y/n."

"Hm. And how did you get so close to that old ass radio guy?" She raises an eyebrow. "He isn't exactly friendly. Don't tell me your his girlfriend or something." I quickly shake my head. "No! Nothing like that!"

"Then what is it? He just suddenly have a change of heart?" I took a hesitant step back. I really, really, didn't want to be having this conversation with Velvette of all people. As I moved, my back hit against something.

I look behind me to see Alastor. "Velvette. I'd appreciate it if you'd stop interrogating miss Y/n, here." Velvet scowled and crossed her arms. "Excuse me, but who the hell are you to order me around, old man?" Alastor's smile thinned. "Are the other two V's with you? Or are you just out looking to start trouble?"

Velvette scoffed, shifting her weight onto one foot. "No, just me. And if anyone is looking to start trouble, it's you. I'd watch yourself, oldie."

"Oh, he isn't so old." Came Rosie's voice as she joined Alastor's side. "Now, young lady, I suggest you go about your business. I'd hate for such a lovely café to be destroyed because of a slight...argument." There was a slight hiss in her voice towards the end.

Velvette glared at the two, Alator and Rosie returned the harsh stare. I felt my heart sink. Were they about to fight? And I would be caught up right in the middle!?

Thankfully Velvette backed off. "Whatever. I'm not wasting anymore time with you two fossils." She says as she walks past them. I sigh a breath if relief.

"My, I will never get use her attitude." Rosie says with a shake of her head. "Y/n, are you alright honey?" She asks me. I only nod my head. "Rosie, dear, I hate to cut our day short. But I'm afraid I have to get Y/n back to the hotel." Said Alastor.

Rosie waved her hand. "Oh don't worry. We can reschedule for another day, when the undesirables aren't roaming the streets."

"Of course." Alastor grins. "Shall I send your order to your residence?" Asked Rosie. Alastor nods his head. "Please do. Come long Y/n." He says, turning to me. I follow him silently.

"You two dipshits won't believe who I just ran into." Velvette says as she makes her way into Voxtek studios. The two "dipshits", she was referring too, were her fellow overlords. Valentino, and Vox. Vox, rolled his eyes before speaking. "Oh, do tell."

"Radio Bitch and his pal Grandma Rosie." She starts. "Not only them, but you remember that woman Alastor had with him at that ball? She was there too." Vox's previous disinterest quickly diminished, his look of surprise slowly turning sinister. "So, Alastor does have it in him to be friendly." He chuckles. "Now, what in the fuck could be so special about her?"

"Perhaps he's finally found someone who can get his rocks off." Valentino smirked. "Doubt it." Vox shrugs. "That motherfucker would kill someone for accidently brushing up against him."

"She might be just another dumbass who made a deal with him." Said Velvette. "But..." She mutters. "But?" Vox raises an eyebrow. "He did get awfully testy when I was "pestering" her." Velvette finishes. Vox laughed. "Oh don't tell me he's actually gotten attached! That's fucking precious!" Vox then smirks. "I think we all know what should be done now. Only question is, how are we going to do it?"

"How does she look?" Valentino asks. "You were there at the ball, how did you not see her?" Asked Velvette. Valentino just shrugs. Velvette rolls her eyes. "She's pretty decent looking, if you must know."

"Maybe I'll hit her up sometime. See if she's looking for work." Valentino chuckles lowly. "I'm always looking for new flesh."

"Gross." Velvette mutters. "Nah, I don't think we should do that. Not yet anyway." Vox spoke up. Valentino sighed. "Why?" He asked. "Use that brain of yours for once. If Alastor is as attached as we think he is, we could use that broad as leverage. Then, we do whatever the fuck with her after we get what we want." Vox explains.

"Also, Velvette, don't go spreading any word about this right away. We want to be sure before we actually go through with this." Velvette shrugs. "Whatever. I'm not trying to catch any flack for spreading misinformation, especially on something I don't really give a shit about."

"Think you can hold off too Val?" Asked Vox. Valentino nods. "For now."

"Then we're all in agreement." Vox smirks. "Better be ready Alastor, cause you're about to get royally fucked."

"I think I've had my fill with overlords." I mutter as Alastor and I approach the hotel. "That would be the third one you've met face to face. Fourth, if you include me. I understand, though, you're in hell now. You see us overlords everywhere." Alastor tells me.

"It will be one of the many things I will not miss when I leave this awful place." I say with a light sigh. Alastor went silent. As we made our way up the steps to the doorway, I look up at him. "How did you end up in hell?" I asked. Alastor glanced down at me.

"Are you sure you can handle the answer you'll get?" He says with a smirk. "I mean...I've been to a city full of cannibals and watched someone be murdered and devoured in the streets like it was nothing. I think I'll be fine." Alastor chuckles at my response. "Fair enough." He paused for a moment before speaking.

"I was a murder in my living days." Not surprising. "As well as a cannibal." Unnerving, but also not surprising. "My first kill was at the ripe age of twenty seven. Yes, I still remember it like it was yesterday." He said with a longing sigh. "Though, I didn't start the who cannibal thing until my third kill."

"How many did you kill exactly?" I ask, unsure if I really wanted to know the answer. "Got away with twelve, and unfortunately my fun was ended on my thirteenth."

"You were caught?" I tilt my head.

"I was killed." Alastor corrects. "Shot dead by a hunter. Right in the ol' bullseye!" He says, pointing to his forehead. "I see." I nod my head. "Alright, I told you how I died. I think it's only fair you tell me yours." Said Alastor.

We walk inside of the hotel and make our way through the halls. "It's...not a great death. You'd be bored." I mutter. "Come now, I'm sure it's not that bad." Alastor waved his hand. I look away from him before exhaling. "Fell down a flight of stairs. Broken neck." I mutter. "Is that right?" Alastor asks.

I nod, trying to fight back the tears gathering in my eyes. Unfortunately for me, Alastor noticed. "But that's not quite the full story?" I shake my head.

"It wasn't a fall...I was pushed." My voice cracked. "I see. Murder then." Alastor nods. "I assume you know who did it too."

"My fiancé. Only a month before we were going to get married too." Alastor stays quiet. "We...weren't in love. We never were. I thought we were, but...I was blinded by nice gestures and empty words. He convinced me he actually loved me, and in the end, it resulted in my death. I...kinda always knew it would too. And I knew he would be the cause of it...It's my own fault. I should have left sooner. It's like I was asking for him to do it."

"Nonsense."

I look up at Alastor, despite the sharpness in his tone. His expression was neutral. "What?"

"People can be deceiving. They'll break your heart and piece it all back together with the bare minimum. And sadly, it works in most cases. You're right. Unfortunately for you, and for many people, it can result in someone ending up dead."

"Alastor?"

"I believe this is your stop." I look ahead to see the door to my room. "Goodbye for now Y/n." Without another word, Alastor left. I only watched as he walked away.

[sillyfudgemonkeys]

Avatar vs Antagonist switch up pt 3

Follow up from this

Roku: Kyoshi....how did the....fight go? Kyoshi: ? I won, obviously. Roku: I mean, Sozin....Did you....you know? Kyoshi: Did I what Roku? Roku: Please Kyoshi, he was my friend. :( Kyoshi, rolls eyes: And Yun was mine, you saw how that went down. Btw, someone is gonna need to take him. RIP to you tho. Roku: KYOSHI PLEASE! Kyoshi: He's fucking alive ok?! I didn't kill him! Aang: ...I....I'm so impressed Kyoshi! I didn't think you had the restraint. Kyoshi: I'm not a bloodthirsty tyrant who gets off on killing- Aang: I'm sorry I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions- Kyoshi: That's Yangchen! Aang: Excuse me? Kyoshi: Everyone just looooves to confuse me with Yangchen! C'mon! Kuruk: Tell me about it, "oh let's pray to Yangchen, she'll help us with this spiritual issue" please! Aang: Kyoshi, Um.....why didn't you kill Sozin? Kyoshi: Huh? Oh, Yangchen wanted a word with him. Aang: Roku, go, NOW! Korra: He's already gone Aang. Hey, Kyoshi, why are you smoking? Kyoshi: Huh? Oh. Apparently that Ozai guy can shoot lightening too. Aang: And.....you got hit by it? Kyoshi: Ugh, yeah. Multiple times. So annoying. I really am starting to dislike lightening benders. It's so cheap. Aang: M....multiple....times? Kyoshi: Yeah it hurts like hell. Korra: Kyoshi, something's wrong with you.... Kyoshi: "Kyoshi somethings wrong with you!" "Yangchen, why are you like this?" "Kuruk! Why are you such a failure?" Get some new material! Kuruk: Preach sister! Korra: Alright alright. Tell me about this Yun guy. Kyoshi: He's the greatest earthbender that ever lived. Korra: Fine, I'll take him. Kyoshi: Great, watch your back. And pro tip, freezing the lungs and heart doesn't hurt. Korra:.....I'll try spiritbending first and then go from there. Kyoshi: Damn, why do I feel like that's going to work out for her? So cheap and unfair. Kuruk: Tell me about it. Korra: Btw Aang, if you take on Amon, you have to go through an army of Chi Blockers! Aang: Wait what?! That's not fair! Korra: Tell me about it! I hate those motherfuckers. Yangchen, walking back with Roku trailing behind: "Motherfuckers?" Oh Korra, it sounds like you're talking about combustion benders. :) Is there another one? Aang: How'd it go Roku? Roku: I fear for the rest of the people on our list, Aang. ;w;

[benewol]

beat the shit out of them [Vin Jin x Reader]

this work is heavily influenced by @wannaeatramyeon 's works, especially her unhinged reader fic featuring vin!! no warnings, reader can also be considered genderneutral as far as im concerned just a bunch of cussing tbh. hope you enjoy :))

"Vin Jin."

...

"Hey, Vin Jin."

...

"I'm fucking talking to you!"

The next thing he feels is a harsh smack on the back of his head as he quickly catches himself before the chair can tip over.

"The fuck do you want?! Fucking crazy ass bitch," he rubs the now throbbing, sore spot you gave him, face scrunching up as usual.

Dramatic motherfucker.

"If you didn't tint your glasses over so much you wouldn't be getting smacked. You would've seen me preparing to swing, too," you smirk in retaliation, your arms moving from their crossed position to resting next to your sides while you're leaning against his table.

He merely sends you what you think is probably supposed to be a nasty glare and re-positions his legs on that same table, nudging your back with his polished sneakers.

So you continue talking.

"Mary's been trying to gesture for you to leave the classroom without making a commotion, you know."

"Okay, and?"

"Your bff needs you and that's all you can say? Really?" You roll your eyes.

"Can't be so important if it only took you to solve it."

"Fuck off."

"Lol, you first."

"Sure. Tell me why you keep tinting your glasses and I will."

His eyes furrow inquisitively.

"I don't need to do shit. Class is starting soon so you need to move your fat ass soon anyway, might as well do it immediately," his smug smile one of those you'd love to fill with a pile of some of his ridiculous sheets of lyrics crumpled up.

That's a good idea. You're adding that to your list titled 'what would piss vincent the fuck off'.

"Your sense of time is, unsurprisingly, tremendously shit. We have another half an hour left, you moron," you reach out your hand to flick his wide forehead, which he now sees coming and dodges, catching himself before falling yet again.

What a fucking loser, you shake your head and keep yourself from succumbing to laughter.

"Whatever. I'm not showing you shit."

"Come on. I'm sure whatever it is you're blowing it out of proportion," you reach out again to touch his glasses.

He reaches out too. To stop your hand from moving towards his sunglasses. And his grip is not as harsh as you'd expected it to be.

"Stop it. If you see it, I'll have to kill you."

"See what? You're being so ominous. Do you have weird rectangular pupils like goats or what?"

He sputters for a moment.

"That'd be funny."

"The fuck?"

"You could come up with a line like 'my eyes are like those of a goat, yeah, I'm the GOAT'," you press your lips together to stop the laughter from spilling out of your mouth.

That line was good.

He won't tell you that, though, because you were way too close to uncovering the truth.

He huffs, turning his head away from you and crossing his arms in front of his chest.

What he doesn't know is that his oh-so-clever self forgot to re-tint his glasses.

This in turn means the sun's rays hit his lenses so nicely you were able to catch a tiny glimpse of his two grey irises and the resulting pupils in his left eye.

Your breath catches in your throat.

A soft gasp makes his head turn back to you, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

"What's that? Pulling a stupid line like that and immediately growing quiet?" He mumbles to mask his alarm.

You hum, and he notices your solemn expression, making him grow apprehensive.

"Weren't you Cheonliang's number one?"

"Still am."

"And Allied's number two?"

"Yeah."

"How come you don't just lose the shades and simply beat the shit out of anyone who comments on your eyes, then?"

He stares at you. Still occasionally having rubbed the wound you'd inflicted on the back of his head, he loosens his arms which were crossed behind it.

Placing them on his thighs, he balls his fists.

"Shut up."

He abruptly stands up and moves towards the door, shaking the table you were leaning against, making you furrow your brows in irritation.

Typical.

At least you'll know where to find him.

If things don't go his way, he'll just lock himself in the boys' bathroom and listen to one of Duke's albums.

You don't intend letting him flee the scene this time, though.

"Don't you dare run away now."

He doesn't know why, but he halts in his steps.

"Or else what, pipsqueak?"

He turns back towards you.

"Your eye adds to your nonexistent charm."

...

"Hello?"

...

"Earth to Vincent?" You wave your hand in front of his shielded eyes.

Turning on his heel, he doesn't leave without wanting to have the last word.

"Fucking weirdo, I don't need your pity."

"Asshole, I'm not pitying you!!"

What you fail to see is the faintest of rose-coloured blushes on Vin's cheeks as he puckers his lips, absentmindedly scratching at his lenses while sauntering down the hallway.

[philomenie]

KILLING ME SOFTLY

Hitman!Jolly - Part 1

CN murder, violence, sex, organized crime, blood, angst, 18+

@jilliemiw86 @nojoyontheburn @reyadawn @dsireland86

EIGHT

“What is it?” Alexei wants to know as Jolly storms out of the door.

“Where's the doctor?” hisses Jolly, stalling for time.

“Hmm, he should be here by now.....” Alexei explains, stretching.

“You after.....” growls Jolly.

Alexei raises an eyebrow, but walks off.

Good, Jolly thinks to himself, now all I need is the Cuban's fucking cell phone. A piece of cake, he sighs inwardly with sarcasm.

Jolly knows where their victims' private belongings are and that could be the problem. In a safe in the room next to Semjon's office.

Jolly quietly sneaks upstairs and makes it into the room unnoticed.

With shaky hands, he enters the combination and opens the safe. He hurriedly searches through it until he finds what he is looking for. He takes the cell phone, closes the safe again, peers through the crack in the door to see if the coast is clear and slips out again. Just as he is about to go back downstairs, his heart pounding, the door to Semjon's office opens and Artur storms out. His face is distorted and disfigured by anger.

When he sees Jolly, he stands rooted to the spot. His eyes seem to shoot daggers, at least that's how Jolly feels. He coolly returns his gaze.

“You'll regret this!” hisses Artur, barely audible, as he walks past Jolly and rams his shoulder into his side.

Expressionless, Jolly watches him storm down the stairs, heading for the exit.

A heated discussion can be heard from Semjon's office. Kolja seems just as unhappy with his father's decision as he is. Well.... If this works out, he won't have to worry about this tricky situation anyway, Jolly thinks to himself grimly and runs down the stairs, heading back to Ruffilo.

“Unlock your fucking cell phone!” he hisses in his ear.

Ruffilo unlocks it without looking up, “When Nobu picks up, tell him Bad Omens.....” whispers the man.

“What's that supposed to be?” Jolly asks, perplexed.

Ruffilo grins, “A code, then Nobu will know it's me!”

“OK, I'll be right back!” Jolly promises and storms out of the room, goes back to the first floor and looks for a quiet alcove.

With trembling fingers, he dials Nobu's contact and waits.... FUCK, pick up, you goddamn motherfucker, Jolly pleads in his mind.

After what feels like an eternity, the call is answered.

“Bad Omens.” Jolly gasps and waits. His breathing is intermittent, his heart is pounding in his throat, he has to lean against the wall.

“Where is he?!” a cold voice rumbles cuttingly into the silence, ”And is he alive?”

“Yes, he's alive... still!” Jolly hastens to say, ”Volkov's got him!”

“That's what I thought!” Doi hisses sarcastically, ”Who are you?”

“Someone who wants a favor for a favor...” swallows Jolly.

“Speak!” growls Doi.

“The life of Ruffilo, that of his family, the identity of your moles, info on Volkov in exchange for a fresh start, for me and one other person......” explains Jolly sternly, waiting.

“So you want me to manage your exit? WHO are you?” snorts Doi.

“The Swede!” hisses Jolly, who is getting restless because he knows that time is running out.

“So so....” Doi rumbles coldly, ”Then it was YOU on the tarmac.....”

Jolly has nothing to lose, only everything to gain, so he answers truthfully, “Yes!”

“And you think I'm going to help you? Seriously?” Doi hisses angrily.

“Jesus,” Jolly hisses back, ”If I really wanted to hit you, you'd be dead already!”

Doi seems to consider, “Valid point! I know your work!” he admits, ‘Why.....’ he begins, but is interrupted by Jolly.

“FUCK, we don't have time for this.... Ruffilo's going to be “questioned” any minute now... So, what now?” he growls.

Doi considers, “Fine, but how can I prove to you that I'll stick to our agreement?”

“Your word is good enough for me!” gulps Jolly, who has no other choice, but also knows that Doi is a man who places a lot of value on the code of honor.

“You have that! Let Ruffilo go and I'll take care of everything!” he promises.

“Not like this.... I can't just let him go!” Jolly shakes his head, ”Send men to the following address, the back entrance won't be locked. Enough men, by the way. Ruffilo is in the basement, the first door on the left...... Also, make sure Ruffilo's family is taken to safety. Volkov will have already sent men to them!”

“No games?” Doi asks.

“No games!” nods Jolly seriously, ”You have MY word!”

“Only fair!” nods Doi, ”I'll send my men.... What about you?” he then wants to know.

“I have something to do here.... I'll get back to you. On Ruffilo's cell phone!” explains Jolly.

“I'll wait for your call, your message!” Doi nods and hangs up.

Jolly feels like his legs are giving out. God have mercy on me, he thinks to himself, let it succeed!

He looks around again, makes sure no one is near him and goes to the back entrance. Unlocks the door and closes his eyes before unlocking the door. PLEASE, he pleads in his mind and turns the key in the lock.

When he goes back to Ruffilo, Alexei, Kolja and the Doctor are standing around the lifeless Ruffilo.

“WHERE have you been?” Kolja hisses at him.

“Pissing!” growls Jolly and looks at Kolja challengingly.

“Hmm,” he replies, turning to the doctor, ‘So, do something!’ he hisses at him.

The Doctor narrows his eyes, but then takes Ruffilo's head and feels the laceration on his temple, pulls his eyelids upwards and shines a small lamp into it, “Hmm” he mumbles.

“WHAT?” growls Kolja, whose nerves seem tense to the point of tension. Jolly has rarely seen him so excited.

“His pupils react.... Still.... Either he doesn't have a brain haemorrhage or it's still too early to tell exactly. How long has he been at this stage?” the doctor wants to know.

“No idea!” hisses Kolja, looking at Alexei, who shrugs his shoulders, ”A few hours....”

“Hmm” mumbles the doctor again and goes to his bag, takes out a syringe and an ampoule and opens them.

Smiling, he goes to Ruffilo, pulls up his shirt sleeve, “We'll soon see if he's in a coma or just unconscious!” and injects him with the drug.

Jolly feels sick.

The effect is immediate, Ruffilo's hands start to twitch, then he suddenly opens his eyes, his breathing becomes intermittent, sweat breaks out of his pores. He looks around in panic.

“There you go!” smiles the doctor and closes his bag, ‘I'll wait upstairs in case I'm still needed!’ he explains and walks out of the room.

Grinning demonically, Kolja turns to Ruffilo, “Welcome back!” he hisses, “We have a lot to talk about! First of all, you should know that we know WHERE your family is. Our men are already on their way to them!”

Ruffilo looks at him coldly, then raises an eyebrow, “I wouldn't know WHAT to discuss with YOU!”

Kolja may not look muscular, but he still is. The first punch snaps Ruffilo's head back and blood runs out of his nose.

Dazed, he shakes his head, snorts out the blood, which spreads in a fine red mist on his white shirt, next to the drops of blood.

Ruffilo stares angrily into Kolja's eyes, “THAT'S no good!” he hisses.

Kolja strikes again, then immediately turns to Jolly, “Make YOU deliver him to us!”

“You want my weapons?” chortles Ruffilo, ‘Oh heavens!’ he laughs out.

“WHAT's funny about that?” Kolja wants to know.

“Just EVERYTHING!” Ruffilo grumbles quietly.

Kolja angrily tugs at Jolly's arm, “Make him do it!” he yells at him.

Jolly's gaze flits to Ruffilo, who nods imperceptibly. FUCK, he thinks to himself and clenches his fist, punching the Cuban in the stomach, who then slumps down.

Just as he is about to lunge again, muffled sounds of fighting and muffled shots can be heard from above.

“What the fuck....” hisses Kolja in horror and stares at Jolly. Alexei is already at the door and rushes upstairs. The shots and voices are now clearly audible.

Jolly doesn't think twice, grabs Kolja by the arm, “Get yourself to safety!” he hisses at him, “GO, GO!”

When Kolja still doesn't move, Jolly simply pulls him with him, out of the corridor and pushes him further back, to one of the building's safe rooms, types in the combination and simply shoves Kolja inside.

“Lock the door from the inside!” he hisses at him.

“What about you?” Kolja wants to know anxiously.

“I can manage! Your father might need help.....” explains Jolly.

“Good!” Kolja is as white as a sheet, but does as he's told.

Relieved, Jolly goes back to Ruffilo and unties him.

As he stands, he looks Jolly in the eye and nods, “Thank you!” he mumbles.

Jolly looks at him seriously, “Our deal....”

“Stands! You have my word of honor! And Doi's!” Ruffilo replies immediately.

“Good!” declares Jolly and hands Ruffilo his gun, ‘Shoot me!’ he demands, ‘Graze shot... left arm!’ he adds.

Ruffilo grins at him and takes aim, pulling the trigger.

The searing pain starts immediately and Jolly holds his upper arm, swearing to himself in Swedish.

“It was an honor!” grins Ruffilo and hands Jolly his gun back.

“Me, too!” Jolly gasps as hooded men storm into the room and immediately set their sights on Jolly.

“STOP!” roars Ruffilo and stands in front of Jolly, ”Not him!”

The men lower their weapons and nod to Ruffilo, handing him a gun.

“See you around!” nods Ruffilo to Jolly and unexpectedly hits him on the temple with the pistol grip, ‘For safety!’ he explains with a grin.

Jolly has to lean against the wall, slowly slides down it, remains sitting on the floor in a daze, blood once again running down his face and he realizes how the world around him is going dark.

A merciless kick to his already maltreated ribs brings Jolly back to consciousness. Moaning, he writhes on the floor and looks up. Semjon is standing in front of him.

“WHERE IS RUFFILO? WHAT HAPPENED HERE?” he yells at Jolly.

There are countless splashes of blood on Semjon's shirt, but he himself seems unharmed.

“Away.....” Jolly gasps and scrambles to his feet, but is immediately punched in the face by Semjon.

FUCK, you fucking asshole, Jolly thinks to himself and spits out blood.

“WHERE WERE YOU?!” Semjon continues to yell.

“Get your son to safety!” Jolly hisses and gets to his feet, now standing directly in front of Semjon and glaring angrily at him. Semjon returns the glare at first, but then breaks it.

“Boris, go and see if Kolja is all right!” he sends one of his men off.

“What happened here?” he wants to know more calmly from Jolly.

“You tell me!” Jolly snaps at him, ”We were just working on Ruffilo when all hell broke loose upstairs. I took Kolja to the safe room and when I tried to get back, I took a bullet and someone knocked me out here... I don't know why they didn't shoot me straight away!”

“Hmm” grumbles Semjon and looks inscrutably at Jolly, who returns Semjon's gaze boldly and fearlessly. Everything now also depends on whether Semjon believes him.

“It's not Jolly's fault!” Kolja's voice is heard, “He helped me, then wanted to see you!”

“Hmm,” Semjon's gaze and voice soften.

“Clean up here!” he then waves to his men, ‘Upstairs too!’ and wants to leave, turning to Jolly once more, ‘Let the doctor deal with that!’ and points to Jolly's injuries.

Jolly nods silently so as not to give himself away, because his heart is pounding in his throat and he feels like he can't breathe. It can work, it races through his head and he has to pull himself together to keep from grinning.

When he leaves the nondescript building a little later, having received Semjon's blessing, he is brutally pressed against his car just as he is getting into it, which is parked in the backyard under a canopy.

FUCK, what is this now, it flits through Jolly's brain and he struggles against the grip.

A gun barrel pushes against the back of his head and Jolly goes quiet, stops struggling, waits.

“You fucking asshole!” it hisses harshly in his ear.

FUCK, Artur, Jolly closes his eyes in annoyance. He doesn't need this wanker right now.

“What do you want?” Jolly growls back.

The gun barrel is pressed even harder against the back of his head, “Kill you!”

Jolly snorts in amusement, “THAT has been tried by far better men than you!”

“Shut the fuck up!” Artur rages and punches him in the ribs.

FUCK, Jolly draws in a sharp breath, if this goes on, my fucking ribs will break through after all, he thinks to himself angrily.

“YOU'RE not ruining my life!” hisses Artur.

“So Semjon told you his plans....” nods Jolly.

“YES and YOU asshole are certainly not going to be Kolja's right-hand man!” hisses Artur, ”That's ME and I'm going to stay that way!”

“Hmm” mutters Jolly, which earns him another blow in his side and makes Jolly's anger grow, he then pushes off from his car and lets his larger body crash with full force against Artur behind him.

Artur, not expecting this, stumbles and just manages to catch himself and point his gun at Jolly again before he can knock him down or disarm him.

“Careful, Swede.....!” he growls, ”Or do you want your little bitch to die right now!” Artur grins demonically at Jolly, who has lost all color in his face and stares at him in disbelief.

“Your toy, the bitch you're fucking, that doctor from the hospital... I wonder how Nadja thinks that...... You're her toy!” he sneers.

Jolly is frozen, can't believe what Artur has just said to him.

Then he wasn't imagining it, the men in the car who seemed to be following him were Artur's men! FUCK.... How could he have missed it, he thinks to himself desperately....

“What....” croaks Jolly, unable to get another word out.

“What have I done with your bitch?” Artur wants to know with a sneer, ”Nothing yet.... But my local men are waiting for her. I think I'll have my fun with her..... then my men!” he laughs.

Jolly sees red!

Without thinking, he lunges at the now surprised Artur, who wasn't expecting it and before he can do anything about it, Jolly has pushed his weapon down and grabbed his throat, pushing him backwards against the wall. Jolly kicks Artur's kneecap away, causing the man to gasp and fall to the floor. Jolly kicks again and manages to kick Artur's kneecap out so that he can no longer stand and would sink to the floor if Jolly had not relentlessly clutched his throat and increased the pressure on it.

Artur's eyes bulge out and he drops his gun, clutching Jolly's hand at his throat with both hands and trying to free himself.

“Let.....” he gasps soundlessly.

But Jolly shows no mercy. This wanker, this human scum in front of him, has threatened Liv, no, is threatening her. That's his death sentence.

Without batting an eyelid and without saying a word, Jolly grabs his back, pulls one of his combat knives from the holster on his body and rams it full force into Artur's head. He lets go, so that the body in front of him, which was once Artur, collapses and remains lying on the floor.

He calmly wipes the blood off Artur's clothes, opens his trunk and heaves Artur's body into it, which causes him quite a bit of trouble as his ribs hurt like hell.

Panting, he closes the trunk after finally making it. To cover up the bloodstains, Jolly quickly pulls the boxes against the wall forward a little, concealing them so that they are no longer visible.

He gets behind the wheel and drives off, his gaze fixed straight ahead. He can't think about whether Artur's men already have Liv in their hands or not. If he did, he would go mad with fear, knowing what kind of men they are.

Jolly doesn't know exactly where Liv is.... Still in her apartment? Doing something? FUCK.... While driving, he presses her contact.... Speeding through traffic where he can. FUCK, FUCK, FUCK.... He just can't be late!!!

He dashes into the underground parking garage of her apartment complex and parks in the first available spot he sees.

He runs to the elevator, presses the buttons, everything seems like a fucking eternity. Finally the doors open and he gets in. When he arrives at her floor, he bangs on her apartment door as soon as he reaches it.

“LIV!” he yells, but she doesn't open.

Panicked, he opens his apartment door and gets his tools to open Olivia's fucking door. Again, seconds seem like hours before the lock gives way and he can push the door open. “LIV!” he yells desperately as he storms into her apartment, searching the rooms for her.

FUCK where the fuck is she?

The apartment is deserted, nothing to indicate a fight or anything like that...

Jolly feels like he's going crazy with fear for the woman he loves more than anything.

Where could she be?

Jolly thinks feverishly about where she could be.

What did Artur say? His men are on site, waiting for her.... If she's not here, where can Artur's fucking henchmen be waiting for her? Or have they already got her in the meantime?

FUCK!!!!!

Adrenaline rushes through his body.

He picks up his cell phone and is about to redial her number when his eyes fall on messages and he notices he's received new ones.

With shaky hands, he opens the messenger service.

LIV... she sent him a message about an hour ago....

FUCK... She's in the hospital. Had to step in, hopes she won't be long.

Jolly storms back into his apartment, grabs a second gun, holsters it as well and is already on his way to the parking garage.

The traffic is driving Jolly mad, and he angrily bangs his steering wheel again and again, swearing to himself in Swedish. When he finally arrives at the hospital.

He looks around, but the car he suspects belongs to Artur's henchmen is nowhere to be seen.

Jolly drives into a side street and parks. He pulls a sweat jacket that is lying on his back seat over his turtleneck sweater to cover his holster with the weapons and the bandage from his graze. He also pulls his baseball cap low over his face and starts walking towards the hospital, always keeping an eye on his surroundings.

Jolly slowly strolls to the entrance of the emergency room, where he would have preferred to run, walks in and looks around.

The emergency room is, as always, overcrowded. Nursing staff and doctors are rushing around.

With a petrified face, Jolly goes to the registration desk and waits impatiently until the nurse has time for him.

When she finally turns to him, Jolly has red crescent moons in his palms from his fingernails, which he has pressed into his flesh to stay calm.

“And what problem do you have?” she wants to know from him and lets her gaze wander up and down him, lingering on the injuries on his face. The bruises are fading, the stitches on his lip and eyebrow are healing, the fresh laceration on his temple has been stitched up and dressed with a plaster.

“Um, Dr. Knox, Olivia Knox... she stepped in at short notice today.... Is she still here?” he asks the nurse, who raises her eyebrow at this question.

“I'm not responsible for that kind of information!” she explains reservedly and looks at him again.

Jolly tries to remain calm and smile, which he fails horribly, “I know, I'm sorry, but it's important, really important, that I speak to her!”

“I'm sorry....” the nurse begins, but Jolly grabs her hand, ‘Please!’ he pleads urgently, ”I HAVE to speak to her, can't you quickly see if she's here!”

“Is there a problem?” another nurse wants to know, eyeing Jolly suspiciously.

“Dr. Knox... is she still here?” the first nurse sighs and turns to the second nurse.

“Olivia? No... I don't think so, she must have left a few minutes ago....” explains the second nurse.

“Where to?!” gasps Jolly, ”I mean through which exit?!”

“Side exit, she wanted to go to the parking garage!” replies the second nurse.

“Thank you!!!” Jolly presses out and is already on his way to the side exit, pushing his way through the waiting patients.

When he finally reaches the street and looks around, Olivia is nowhere to be seen. With a bad feeling, he walks towards the parking garage. Damn, he can't be late.... It's a shame that Olivia took the car. She usually takes the subway..... FUCK...

The parking garage is full, but deserted. God, she could have just parked anywhere, Jolly thinks desperately and runs through the first floor, looking for her or her car. After failing to find her, he runs to the second floor and searches everywhere there too. FUCK..... how many floors does this fucking parking garage have, and how many fucking parking spaces, he wonders. When he reaches the fifth floor, he realizes that he is slowly running out of breath and his chest and ribs are hurting more and more. But he can't take that into consideration, not as long as he hasn't found his Liv. Breathing heavily, he has to support himself against a concrete pillar and pause for a moment. His head is also pounding and his stitched temple is throbbing. Jolly feels sick and dizzy. FUCK, he doesn't have time for this now!!! Suddenly he hears a cry, which is stifled.

Feverishly he looks around again and again, FUCK, WHERE are they? Out of the corner of his eye, he sees movement and stops abruptly, peers into the dark alcove and can make out movement.

Without thinking, Jolly sprints towards the alcove, he hears muffled sounds of struggle, as if someone is fighting back vehemently and desperately, muffled screams, as if the person's mouth is being covered. Furious rage boils up inside him when he finally sees the scenario before him. Two of Artur's assholes are wrestling with Liv, his Liv, who is desperately trying to escape the brutal grips. Jolly rips off his sweat jacket, grabs one of his combat knives and grabs the first of the men standing closer to him, grips his chin from behind and pulls him away from Liv, who looks at him with panicked eyes. Without hesitation, Jolly plunges the knife into the man's back, below the ribcage, knowing he will hit the man's kidney and give him a certain death. Almost silently, the man collapses in front of him.

With a wild look in his eyes, he climbs over the corpse, the blood-soaked knife raised. The second guy now has Liv in his grasp and is holding a gun to her head, “Fuck off, Swede!” he hisses in panic, “Or she'll be dead in a minute!” Growling, Jolly walks on, the man stumbles backwards with Liv until a wall at his back blocks his escape route. He looks around frantically. “Listen..... Artur wanted her...... I'm just following orders!” the guy gasps. Jolly continues to walk towards him without a word, pure murderous lust glowing in his eyes. His gaze flutters to Liv, who hangs pale as death in the man's arms, her eyes wide with terror, barely daring to breathe. It's lightning fast, the man can barely follow as Jolly, in one smooth movement, brutally pushes the hand with the man's gun back against the wall with his free hand and rams the knife into his side with the other. A single shot, muffled by the silencer, goes off and fades into the silence of the parking garage. Panting, the man looks Jolly in the eye in panic as Jolly pulls his knife out of his body again and rams it full force into his head, right between his eyes. The man stares at Jolly in disbelief, unable to believe what has just happened, then rolls his eyes and collapses, dragging Liv with him as he still clutches her waist.

Jolly is quicker, reaches for her and saves her from falling, pulling her to him, “It's all right... you're safe!” he swallows hoarsely as he presses her against him. Olivia's whole body is shaking and she can barely calm down as she clings to him, sobbing and completely distraught, her fingernails digging into his skin through the thin fabric of his top.

[nightfang22]

Get Angry

As a special treat for my friend @p34ch-tr33 who always pulls out my best work! Enjoy!

TW:Angst,smut insinuation,alcohol,18+

A tear runs down my cheek as I blow out the last candle on the cake. 20 candles nearly completely melted, wax mixed with icing, I sat alone in the dark as I waited for him. He should've been here 5 hours ago. Kenny promised this year would be different. He promised. I scroll through my Snapchat just looking at people's stories and watching dog videos. I clicked on Stan's story expecting to see cute photos of Sparky or videos with Wendy. What I saw broke my heart. Stan's story was filled with nothing but videos of a party at Kenny's house. I could see Wendy and Bebe taking shots and Cartman and Heidi making out. Butters was hitting on some poor drunk girl in the corner and Kyle was playing video games. Craig and Tweek were watching Jimmy break dance on a cardboard box in the middle of the room. I choked back a hard sob stuck in my throat but ultimately I failed. Then I remembered what my father told me when I was little: Don't cry, get mad. And when you get mad, get even. I picked myself up and brushed myself off, tossing the ruined cake in the garbage before fixing my makeup. I grabbed my keys and sped off in my car to Kenny's house.

Ever since Kenny's dad got that oil rig job and is never home anymore, Kenny hasn't really been Kenny. We used to celebrate each other's birthdays together all the time when we were kids but he's missed the last couple of years. He always made it up to me in the end but this time he completely forgot and didn't invite me to his party! I'll show him. I pull into Kenny's driveway and get out of my car. I knock on the door but there's no answer. 'Maybe the music is too loud for them to hear anything else?' So I knock again but louder. Stan opens the door looking back over his shoulder laughing at something before turning his head to face me. His eyes widen in shock. "(Y/N), what are you doing here?" He has a glass in his hand that has a golden brown liquid in it. I relieve him of his glass and down it. 'Hm, Kenny's dad's Scotch from the fancy liquor cabinet.' "I just came to say hi to Kenny and to remind him of the date. You know, since he didn't invite me to his little shindig." I said through gritted teeth. Stan is just staring at me dumbfounded before saying, "What? Kenny told us you couldn't make it cause you were sick. Everyone was asking about you." I smile softly and hug him. That makes me feel a teensy bit better. "Thank you, Stan. Where's Kenny?" I ask, my voice now calm and soft. Stan steps aside to let me in and points over to his dad's recliner where Kenny is sat watching Kyle play Nintendo. I give Stan back the empty glass and march over to Kenny. I stand in front of him, blocking his view of Kyle's game. I see his eyes widen for but a moment before I kick him square in the junk. "KENNY MCCORMICK, YOU ARE THE WORST FRIEND AND BIGGEST ASSHOLE I'VE EVER MET AND THAT SAYS SOMETHING CONSIDERING WE'VE KNOWN CARTMAN OUR WHOLE GODDAMN LIVES!" I scream at him in front of everyone. He's not wearing his parka so I have a full view of his face and just how red his cheeks are from embarrassment. The music suddenly stops and the whole room falls silent as everyone has their eyes on us. "NOT ONLY DO YOU THROW A PARTY AND TELL EVERYONE I'M SICK BUT YOU FORGET MY GODDAMN MOTHERFUCKING BIRTHDAY FOR THE THIRD YEAR IN A MOTHERFUCKING ROW, YOU PIECE OF ABSOLUTE DOGSHIT! I HOPE YOU GET TOSSED ONTO A PIKE YOU SON OF A BITCH! I DON'T KNOW ABOUT YOU GUYS BUT I THINK THAT KENNY KABOBS SOUND PRETTY GODDAMN GOOD RIGHT ABOUT NOW!" And I kick him square in the junk one more time. Just for good measure, of course. "Okay everyone, let the party continue! It is my birthday, after all!" I slit my eyes in Kenny's direction when I say the word 'birthday'.

     The music starts up again and everyone goes back to partying like nothing even happened. I walked into the kitchen to pour myself a heavy drink when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I roll my eyes sighing. Spinning around, I say "Kenny, I'm not sorry for kicking you in the balls and I'm especially not sorry for crashing your party, either." But when I spin around I am not met with blonde hair and blue-green eyes. I am met with messy black hair peeking out of a cute blue hat. "I'm not sorry you did either of those things, too. He really deserved it." It's Craig. I look up at his rather tall frame. Craig has towered over me since we were little. "Oh, sorry. I thought you were Kenny." He fakes being wounded in the chest. "Ouch, (Y/N). That bad, huh?" I could only laugh at his cheesy joke and brush his arm as I reply, "Nah, you're way cuter." His cheeks turn bright pink and that's when I notice Kenny watching out of the corner of my eye. I wrap my arms around Craig's neck and pull him in. We start to makeout and he has me pressed up against the wall. I break away only to pull him up the staircase to Kenny's bedroom. I open the door as Craig takes off his shirt. I turn to him as he pins me to the door, shutting it. He pulls my shirt off and unclasps my bra. He moves me to the bed and takes his hat off, placing it gently atop my head. Removing my skirt and undergarments, Craig kisses his way up my legs before he has me pinned beneath him. I never thought that my first time would be like this. As a revenge tactic with someone I didn't love. Especially not with Craig Tucker. He's leaning down to kiss me again when the door slams wide open. Kenny bursts through the door and pulls Craig off of me by the back of his head, slamming him into the wall. I jump up to my elbows. It appears that Craig is rendered unconscious. He's still breathing at least. I can see his chest moving rhythmically. I stare at Kenny as his head turns to me, his breathing hot and heavy. I can see why. He has a raging boner in his jeans. He pulls off his shirt and crawls on top of me. We make very intense and intimate eye contact for a few silent moments. "I'm sorry, (Y/N). I shouldn't have forgotten." I clear my throat. "Or lied to everyone about you being sick. Can you please forgive me?" Kenny gives me his best puppy eyes, the ones that always got me to do whatever he wanted when we were little and even still to this day. "Okay, fine. I'll forgive you." He smiled at me softly kissing me on the lips. "You weren't really about to give away what's mine to Craig, right?" I shake my head while giggling. He chuckles. "Good. Now let me give you your birthday gift." He strips his bottoms and I flip him over. "Let me." I whisper. I get real close to his face before I whisper, "Nice try, asshole." I sit back up and slap him across the face. "You could never have me no matter how bad you want me, McCormick." I spit in his face as I got up, Craig's hat still atop my head. I saunter over to the door taking a final turn to look at Kenny. "You'd just die on me anyways, you fucking flip phone." Those were the last words I ever spoke to Kenny McCormick as I left him laying there confused and sexually frustrated with his cock out in a room with an unconscious Craig.

Word Count:1,358

[blueberryarchive]

Peaches and Cream. (Pt.1)

In which Jungkook, a one-star Michelin chef, gets the information: a new blogger, you, gave him a bad review of his restaurant, and he gets obsessed with the things you wrote; and in the process, with you. Wanting to show you he's a good chef, he invites you to a good meal cooked by him.

—⁠☆Pairing: Bi Chef!Jungkook & Blogger!Reader

—⁠☆Genre: au, enemies to lovers.

—⁠☆Word Count: 4.3k

—⁠☆Warnings: filthy mouth Jungkook, like so much for no reason. smut, two doms trying to dom each other, stalking, dub-con, masturbation, prejudice/bigotry, depictions of queerness and family. (these are the warnings for the whole two-part series)

—⁠☆a/n: this the first part of a 2 part ff, i hope you gals can help me get better at writing in english since it's not my first language. as always thank you for reading.

The morning painted the windows of his office with a slight dew, the clouds announced how gray that Friday would be. Every time it rained it wasn't busy in the restaurant, but Jungkook appreciated the sweet aroma the concrete emanated in the alleys. 

The smell of the city of rotting garbage and asphalt goes to give way to childhood memories of him. Running home, jumping through long puddles, the taste of freshly cooked rice. Mild and fluffy in the mouth. 

Jungkook dropped his cigarette halfway to the ground as a van turned the corner. Grocery shopping was one of the favorite parts of his job. Maybe the best. At 4 in the morning, he would open the back doors of his restaurant, clean and file his knives, which he kept wrapped in cotton cloth that his grandmother sewed for him with his initials. In a rather old mocha pot, he used to put three spoons of freshly ground coffee and water and stayed waiting for the men from the market, who came to bring him the freshest products for that day's dishes. Cup of coffee in hand and a lot to say.

He loved to touch, press, smell, taste and pinch the vegetables; pick them up on the light and complain that the salmon was from yesterday and the courgettes were too big. Loved to bargain with Tomas the price of trivial things. 

"Tom, don't be a bitch. I'll have to throw away half of these tomatoes before four o'clock." 

"Jung-" Tomas, a Hispanic man with the face of that painting from Alexandre Cabanel, inhaled sharply, placing two fingers on the bridge of his nose. He didn't know what Tomas was saying in Spanish, but Jungkook knew, somehow, that it involved fucking his mother. 

"You take the two boxes and the Montserrat." Tomas repeated.

"Tom, what am I going to do with shit as acid as Montserrat tomatoes. Green ones." Jungkook yelled, almost spitting out his coffee, taking a healthy tomato in his hand. 

"Shove it up your ass." Tomas shrugged casually. Jungkook hit him on the shoulder, and both laughed. 

"Okay, give me both. Maybe Vic will think of making something with your fucking tomatoes..." the imaginary disgust on his palate at the thought of a Montserrat tomato sauce or a salad. Worse: fried. 

Tomas knew that silence and the lost look of Jungkook's idiot fuckface. "You can't change your mind anymore, chef. I already had my boys put the boxes down." 

"I know. I'm just regretting letting you win." 

Tomas clicked his tongue, revealing a perfect smile to the ched. "Sometimes you have to let it go, chef." 

"Go away, motherfucker." Jungkook smiled, still looking at the boxes of green tomatoes. 

"Bye, Chef." 

"Mmm," Jungkook took the last sip of his coffee as the truck pulled away. Now it was time to lift the boxes. That kept Jungkook's arms in good shape. He rolled up his baggy shirt to reveal his colorful tattooed arm. Smoothly tying his wavy hair in a low ponytail. With one arm, he lifted the sack of rice to the kitchen island, then the oysters, then the crate of vegetables. 

With precision and finesse, he grasped the knife with the curved edge from his collection and began to peel each vegetable. Everything was with the accuracy of a surgeon. 

If lifting sacks was his daily exercise, cutting and peeling the preparatives was his meditation. With so much attentiveness to his peeling, he almost cut himself when he heard his cell phone vibrate. He growled and cursed in a breath. He hated getting called on the phone. If it weren't for his mom, he would have thrown away that piece of plastic years ago. 

Vic, the screen said, the face of a curly-haired man in a perfect afro, teeth so perfect as he smiled into the camera. Jungkook took that photo about a year ago, just outside his favorite café. He had months without buying a cup of coffee there.

With his knuckles, he opened the call. "I thought you were coming over to help me with the oysters, Vic," he demanded with a frown concentrating on peeling the shiitake mushrooms until soft and white. 

Vic didn't answer until after a lengthy silence. Pretty long, considering he had just finished peeling a couple of mushrooms. Jungkook looked at his cell phone. "Victor?" 

"Here I am," he replied reluctantly. 

"Why the hell are you calling me if you aren't going to talk? I'm busy." 

"I thought, when I met you, that you cuss so much and act like a piece of shit because you wanted to be like Gordon Ramsay or something." 

"What's the point, Vic? The oysters are still here unopened, and Helena doesn't come in until six, and I-" 

"You're busy." They both spoke in unison. That made Jungkook feel a sting in his throat, a slight tickle. 

"Are you going to come, yes or no?" 

"My God, Jeon, just for a moment, stop thinking about the damn oysters and pay attention to me." 

"I do, Victor, and you still don't answer my damn question. Do I have to pick up a fucking bum off the streets to do your job?" 

"Why did you come to my house on Tuesday?" Jungkook stopped the fluid movements of the knife, his eyes on the phone. 

"You wrote me to go," the chef replied.

"Yes, but for you to pick up your things." 

"I did that." Jungkook snorted, finishing with the mushrooms and starting with the carrots. 

"Yeah, after fucking me and telling me you loved me... like twice in the process." Vic sounded hurt. Jungkook hated it when he did that because he knew how dramatic Vic could be. 

"And after that, you kept treating me as your sous-chef the next day."

"You are my sous-chef, Victor." He interrupted, leaning on the metal table.

"Yeah, but I'm talking like outside of work."

"Yes, because you're still my sous-chef, Victor. I don't get-"

"Do you do this to Marianne? Or Helena, Joseph, or every waiter with an innocent little face when you tell them they're your favorite." 

"Vic," warned the chef. 

"Or maybe you were in a year-long relationship with your maitre d' so he wouldn't fire you. No, that was me. If it weren't for me, that place wouldn't have the popularity it has" 

"Vic," Jungkook growled, feeling the blood rush to his head. 

"You are a pest to your restaurant, Jeon Jungkook." 

That was it. Jungkook dropped the knife on the table and gripped the device as close to his mouth, thin lips brushing the screen. 

"Victor, if you hadn't opened your legs to me, you wouldn't even have the chance to lick the leftovers from my alley." 

"Bullshit, if I'm the whore, what makes you?. Who did you have to fuck for your place, chef?" 

"Everyone." Jungkook laughed sarcastically, "And yet, I'm the one who has a fucking Michelin star under my name and my sweat... what have you done with the fucks on your record?" 

Victor was silent. "You are a prick." 

"Okay" Jungkook didn't understand where this was going, but it was almost six in the morning, and he had to start removing the skin from the salmon. His walking around the station didn't keep him calm, nor it was productive. 

"I don't know why I let you into my house." 

"You were alone, just like I felt that day too. And you also act like it doesn't turn you on when I drunk fuck you." Jungkook waited for an answer, but there was nothing. "Vic?" Silence. When he saw the screen of his cell phone, there was no longer the photo of Victor or the creaking of the telephone line. "Vic, the oysters" He didn't even know why he was trying, he closed his eyes and put the cell phone in his pocket. 

The door opened suddenly, startling Jeon. It was Helena, a curvy thirty-something girl taking a last puff from her vape. With a rush, she put her hair in a high ponytail. 

Jungkook tried to act as naturally as possible. 

"Good morning, chef." Helena hastened to say, putting on her apron. 

"Mm," he muttered as he followed his work, musing among the damn green tomatoes that he had no idea what Vic asked them for.

A long time passed while both, Jungkook and Helena, worked at their stations. 

"Chef," Helena broke the silence by pressing her lips together. 

"Yeah?" 

"I'm trying to make a list for my future...you know I want to open my place one day." 

"Everyone wants their own little place," Jungkook interrupted, opening the oysters with swift movements. 

"Yes, yes. But I really don't like getting fucked in the ass, and it's not that there are a lot of women in this business, much less lesbians." She burst. Jungkook grinned against his own will when she wasn't looking. 

"Fuck you, Helena. Cut the mangoes for the sauce." Jungkook hissed, and set the oysters aside as Helena laughed at him. "I'm going to the market for more onions and tell Joseph to finish the oysters by himself" 

"Yes, Chef." voiced Helena with a grand smile.

Jungkook left the station, the cold air soothing the remains of his anger. Without thinking much, he reached into his pocket taking out a cigarette.

He started walking through the streets of New York. Vic had worn him out, and his 14-hour shift hadn't started.

The steam rising from meats, the incessant sound of vegetables being cut, three different sauces being stirred. Jungkook's kitchen was alive, it was seven at night and this was the time when his guests arrived like flies on the cake. Men in Italian brand suits and their girlfriends of the week, older women with picky palates, fanatics, high-class tourists…you name it, you find it.

Normally, Jungkook would be in the front. Preparing each dish, tasting each sauce, checking each cut, and scrutinizing that each dish looks like something he is proud of.

But here he was, in the dark alley behind his restaurant as he called Vic over and over on the phone, the cigarette in his hand melting with the wind and light drizzle. His hair and his white suit getting wet as he left the umpteenth voice note for Vic.

"Victor, for God's sake, I have the restaurant full tonight. It's a fucking Friday, why the fuck aren't you here?" he breathed sharply, the tension had his shoulders tense and the veins in his arms looked like they were going to explode.

The messages did not reach him, the wretch had turned off the phone.

"Shit," he muttered as he thumped into the kitchen that blazed with the heat of thirty pots on the stove. What happened after going through the door seemed…uncanny. All of his cooks looked at him at the same time, fleetingly to return to their tasks again.

They knew something that Jungkook didn't.

He sighed deeply before tying his hair into a half-bun. He rolled up his sleeves and went to his station, reading the orders aloud.

"One duck, two mussels, one Bok Choy" Jungkook ordered.

"Yes, chef," the others said in unison.

Food was piling up around Jungkook, sauces, and stir-fried vegetables. With a spoon he tasted the first and nodded slightly, then the shiitake. With agility he grabbed an empty plate and began to order each detail: first, the sauce spread like a brush, the green color so bright; then the piece of meat, glistening with juice, three drops of yellow radish sauce, a delicate yellow flower for the final touch.

"Service!" Jungkook pushed the plate away towards the waitress on the other side of his table.

"Fuck," Joseph muttered in the kitchen.

"Stop being an imbecile and attend your damn station," Charlie, the poissonier, snarled, hurling a frying pan into the sink with a crash.

"Where are my mussels?" Jungkook was sweating, his eye trembled slightly.

"Joseph just screwed them up, I have to do them again"

"And what are you doing wasting time talking?" Jeon interrupted on the verge of screaming. The others tensed, again that look from everyone.

"Sorry, Chef" said Joseph and Charlie.

"Hurry up, damn." Jungkook continued with his task of plating each meal, tasting over and over again everything that was within his reach.

"Where is my sauce?" he growled when his hand reached to his right, and Helena nor the sauce wasn't there. 

"In a minute, sir." 

"I don't have a minute."

Helena took the pan and stirred while going to the prep station. Jungkook took a small spoon and tasted it.

"More salt," he said, furrowing his eyebrows.

Helena seemed confused. "More, Chef?"

"Don't make me repeat myself, dear." 

"Yes, chef." Helena went back and added more salt, a few seconds later, he was pouring the sauce into the mushrooms. 

"Service!" the waiter took the plate, he started to feel a pain in his lower back and was exhausted. "Helena," he called, continuing his job. 

"Chef."

"Call Vic, tell him that if he isn't here in twenty minutes, I'll fire him."

There was no 'yes, chef', no answer at all. Actually, it was a little quieter in the kitchen. He didn't look back. "I said-"

"I don't think you want that, chef." This time, he turned around, and there it was: the look.

"When I say something, misses Gallo, I mean it" he felt more intense than usual if, that's even possible. Helena felt like she just saw a ghost. Jungkook knew she joked around with him, but she knew her time and place.

"Vic it's not coming back, sir." The youngest, Joseph, tilts his head down in fear. 

"Why is that?"

"God, how I abhor when things like these happen." The elegant man entered the kitchen with his sleek blonde hair and a black suit, calico eyes, and the most pretentious-looking glasses you could find. It was Jimin Park, his maitre d'. 

Jimin was the one who gave the classiness Jungkook lacked when it came to treating his clientele. He greeted and took care of everyone like they were his friends. 

"She's here." 

"Who?" Jungkook couldn't be more out. Jimin gave him his phone, and on the screen was a girl eating a plate exactly like the one he made minutes ago. Wait, that was his restaurant. 

"Oh my God, she's actually here. I didn't know Vic was such a petty bitch." Helena laughed while watching the live stream. Jungkook turned off the screen. 

"What the fuck is going on?"

"Vic tweeted to her to come here because his ex fired him for being a good cook, something like that." Jimin shrugged. Jungkook felt his chest contract, he started biting the ring on his lower lip.

"Who is she?" 

"She's a mukbanger but like a mean one, she's an icon," Joseph said smiling. 

"She's like the new wave of food criticism." Jimin took his phone and put it in his pocket. "Our world doesn't care anymore about magazines or what the paper says."

A waitress came bursting from the door.

"Mr. Park, the girl went away." 

"Am I supposed to be scared because she's going to tweet about some overcooked lamb?" he asked the waitress who didn't know what to say. 

"She's gone?" Jimin raised his glasses taking a deep sigh, he looked at Jungkook and lightly smiled. "You're fucked, Jeon." 

"Fuck you, Park. No, I'm not" he was offended, how could he say that in front of his group?

Jungkook took Jimin by his forearm and took him to his office. The others were left watching through the little window looking for the infamous mukbanger.

For a second, Jungkook was going to look back and ask his sous chef to take care of the kitchen. But he didn't have a fucking sous-chef. 

This couldn't be possible, he had a Michelin star because of his discipline, the way he cooked, his crew, and the stories he told through the food. He had the perfect ambiance, the most amazing maitre d' in New York, and the perfect culinary experience. He worked his ass off for this.

He was above the trolly reviews from Yelp, the people who thought he just did something to fill stomachs. But why did he feel this was not the same? Why did she leave? He made sure everything was perfect. Everything. 

"Hey!" Jimin snapped his fingers in Jungkook's face. For a moment, he put his palm on Jungkook's forehead. 

"Jesus, you're burning" he saw the expression on his chef, with his eyebrow rose, the pierced end moving slightly. Lost in thought. 

"Do you really think this is going to ruin me?"

Jimin's heart felt heavy, he denied occupying his hands with some papers. 

"I don't know, Kook. Perhaps she went away because she didn't find anything bad to say, or maybe she had to go and that's it. You know how those people are."

Jungkook nodded, none of them were sure that Jimin said the truth. But it had to do for now. 

"Now go, the kitchen will be a mess without you."

It's already a mess.

Jungkook nodded again, hands behind his back. He needed to know who you were. As soon as possible.

Jungkook doesn't remember the last time he sat on the couch in his apartment, his legs were covered with two sheets and he had a black hoodie covering his chest and lanky hair. He doesn't remember how strange morning TV was: everyone was wearing makeup and smiling as they talked about how climate change was inundating homes in India. It couldn't be more bizarre. Maybe it was the fever that had him glued to the screen in front of him or the ache in his tired muscles. 

The icing on the cake, he was sick. 

The night of the influencer's drama, Jungkook came to his room. His hair was wet from the rain that fell that night and his body soaked. His body sank into the sheets with his uniform, the fever began to make him have strange dreams where orders came but never came out. He woke up around four in the morning the next day and called Jimin, his voice raspy as he changed out of his uniform.

"Call Jin, tell him to cover me this week."

"Okay," Jimin replied with a breath.

"Okay? No questions?"

"No, I already knew you were going to get sick." Jungkook pursed his lips into a small smile, eyes closed from exhaustion.

"As soon as the fever stops, you won't need Jin. I promise."

"As much as I want that to be true, I don't want you in the restaurant until you're completely well. It's enough for the restaurant that a cute girl says absurd things about your food and then we get rumors about you cooking with your boogers" Jimin blurted out.

"Absurd?" Jungkook looked for some boxers and changed, throwing his body on the living room furniture. "What did she write?"

"Um...," Jimin put the chef on hold as he thought of an honest but not unseemly way to tell him the review. "Well, she said she was sick of seeing the same wave of elite restaurants for the decadent new yorker elite, the same exotic cuts of a bird, and the environment with walls as white as a psychiatric hospital. She said that I looked like a nurse going from table to table to give them their pills in porcelain saucers to the long-lived of New York," Jimin laughed. "That was funny...it's like the truth-"

"And about me?" Jungkook felt the fever consuming his body, a headache approaching like a shadow behind his neck.

"Well, she said the food was tasteless and you screwed up the only thing she was looking forward to"

"The mushrooms?"

"How did you know?" 

"Of course, it was the mushrooms," Jeon muttered, squeezing his eyes shut, cursing Vic with the wrath of a thousand seas, wanting him to be engulfed and convulsing for all eternity looking for oxygen. 

"The sauce was salty to the point that she wanted to throw up, she said."

"The sauce was salty," he repeated and then smiled so as not to destroy the room in his sickly state.

He doesn't remember much of what he did those three days that had passed. Jimin would stop by his apartment to bring dinner and pick up the shirts from the floor. He complained about Jin for half an hour with a glass of wine in hand, until Jimin realized that Jungkook couldn't even stay focused.

"Hey, wake up." Jimin patted his cheeks and Jungkook didn't even flinch.

"Vic has been there? In the restaurant, I mean," Jungkook grabbed the wine from Jimin's hand, drinking it all in one gulp.

"No, he had a friend go get his things the next day."

"Who, the youtube whore?"

"No," Jimin chuckled. They both saw each other and laughed under their breaths.

"It was a redhead."

"Oh, you mean Chris."

"Yeah," Jimin answered looking at his friend with tipsy eyes. "When was the last time you got laid?"

Jungkook began to fidget around, looking for something to occupy his hands with.

"It can't be that Victor-" Jimin's mouth tightened. "Of course," he chuckled, a light rose painting his cheeks.

"What the hell do you know, Park?"

"I would have known."

"Are you spying on me through the cameras you have in my bathroom to see if I jerk off?" His hoarse voice was screeching, and Jimin couldn't take his anger seriously.

"There's a certain je ne sais quoi to it when you fuck, like you stop yelling so much and actually do your job."

"I do my job."

"But it would be better if you didn't scream all the time like a fucking maniac."

"Mmm," tiredness wouldn't let him continue answering. He had taken a pill for the flu but he didn't know it was going to hit him so fast. Jimin noticed.

"Well, I'll let you rest. I brought you a couple of plums and oranges from the market."

"Tell Jin I say hi in the morning," Jungkook mumbled.

Jimin patted him on the shoulder and left Jungkook's phone on the table with your Instagram open. "Stop watching morning TV, your brain will melt."

Jungkook didn't touch the phone for a long while thinking about the words that were repeating like a broken record: "tasteless" and "elite for the elite"...Jungkook didn't even come from a wealthy family. It was foolish.

He lazily swiped his way down through your profile, looking at the thumbnails of your photos where you smiled like nothing was wrong. 

You liked showing cleavage, he realized. In addition to being a liar, you liked the attention. There was one where you were in a jacuzzi with a glass of champagne and another where you were on the French shores.

Besides the fact that you liked the attention, it was for a reason. The way your lips curved into a smile as if your breasts weren't pinched in that bikini two sizes too small. 

What kind of reporter were you?

Without realizing it, Jungkook was lying on his bed looking at your photos while eating a plum. He didn't know if it was the sweetness of the ripe fruit or the fever, but he felt strange. His body felt like it was floating between the satin of his bed. 

Another brush up to your profile: more food, more cats, travel, you in a bikini. One, in particular, caused the lower half of him to brush against the sheets. It wasn't that different from the others, but for some reason this time you weren't smiling. You looked at the camera with a certain judging that made Jungkook's throat boil.

His fingers were covered in prune juice, the wrinkled seed clenched between his teeth. What he was going to do wasn't one of his most dignified moments, but the meds made him delirious, not fucking someone besides Vic made him even sicker. 

His sticky fingers trailed from his navel to the edge of his boxers. When he felt the wetness of his slimy fingers on his tip he clamped the seed harder into his teeth, growling in loathing.

Your face caused his chest to swell with anger and his dick to rise at the slightest touch of his tattooed hand. Thinking of your tongue tasting his cock on a plate, no garnish, no cutlery. He wanted you to swallow it and shed tears on your cheeks.

A shriek. He tossed the phone onto the bed and covered his embarrassed face with his forearm. His hand trembled under his Calvin boxers, saliva pooling in his mouth as he couldn't swallow. 

His tongue flicked over the seed in his mouth, and like a flash, the image of him covering your clit with his spit flashed by. He growled like a fleeing animal as his orgasm made him arch his back. He removed the seed from his mouth.

"Fuck," he mumbled when he saw the stain on his pants. Air rushed out of his nose for the first time all day. He closed his eyes in pure bliss. Two minutes later, he wrinkled his nose and repeated: "Fuck," this time rolling his eyes, angry with himself for what he was going to do. He turned on his cell phone screen and opened the dm of your profile.

jkookcooks: So what kind of reviews do you do when you leave mid-meal? You didn't even try dessert. If you really want to do something worthwhile and not your unnecessary sensationalism, maybe you should come try something made by me.

He almost threw the cell phone when he hit send. Feeling the cold of his cum in his pants and the words he send to make him cringe.

When he got up to clean himself up, he heard his cell phone vibrate almost immediately. 

Didn't you have things to do on a Friday night?

CherryCloud: Just say the day, chef.

A smile left Jungkook's lips. He'd love to grab your face and make you eat the best meal you ever had, to see if you'll shut up that way... He'd have to plan the menu for the night.

Why did he feel a sudden fear? He saw the photo again: your judgy eyes, hugging your knees.

[tellsjokes-movedbacktomulti]

songs and quotes for the muse ☆ ( under the cut )

tagged by: stole from @spiritdreamt tagging: youuuuu

five SONGS for my muse:

scrawny by wallows: Still wear the same shoes I did back then / I'd switch it up but I don't like change / Scrawny motherfucker with a cool hairstyle / I say the wrong shit at the right times, If I'm offending them I don't mind / You don't like my clothes but you still like my smile / They might think they're cooler than me by a mile / I can still have wisdom and look like a child.

i don't smoke by mitski: I don't smoke except for when I'm missing you / So if you need to be mean be mean to me, I can take it and put it inside of me / if your hands need to break more than trinkets in your room, you can lean on my arm as you break my heart / just don't leave me alone, wondering where you are / I am stronger than you give me credit for

look who's inside again by bo burnham: trying to be funny and stuck in a room / try making faces, try telling jokes, making little sounds / I was a kid who was stuck in his room. there isn't much more to say about it / when you're a kid and you're stuck in your room you'll do any old shit to get out of it / Well, well look who's inside again / went out to look for a reason to hide again / well, well buddy, you found it / now, come out with your hands up. we've got you surrounded

seventeen going under by sam fender: I remember the sickness was forever / That's the thing, it lingers and claws you when you're down / I was far too scared to hit him but I would hit him in a heartbeat now / see I spent my teens enraged, spiralin' in silence / and I armed myself with a grin 'cause I was always the fuckin' joker, buried in their humor / God, the kid looks so sad / I see my mother

sloppy seconds by watsky: I don't care where you've been, how many miles, I still love you / show me someone who says they got no baggage, I'll show you somebody whose got no story / my favorite sweater was a present that I got a couple presidents ago and I promised that I would rock it till it's thread bare / every single person gotta couple skeletons / and there is not a single place that I would rather be / I'm fucked up just like you are, and you're fucked up just like me

five QUOTES for my muse:

“I think the saddest people always try their hardest to make people happy because they know what it’s like to feel absolutely worthless and they don’t want anyone else to feel like that.” - Robin Williams

“When Mom scolded you freely, you more frequently called her Mom. The word ‘Mom’ is familiar and it hides a plea: Please look after me. Please stop yelling at me and stroke my head; please be on my side, whether I’m right or wrong. You never stopped calling her Mom.” — Kyung-sook Shin, Please Look After Mom

"I want you to know that it is okay not to love me. [ … ] You are not the first person. I want you to know that you are not the first who found it a little too tough, who took two steps back when my jaws started snapping."

"Oh, I could call you names now. List a hundred reasons for why you were awful. But what would that do? Where would it leave me? I still loved you. I still have to live with that."

“in a dream I saw my mother with the love of her life and no children; it was the happiest i'd ever seen her" ―  Rupi Kaur, The sun and her flowers

[hockeyandhrsepwr]

Snap Snap 📸

Quinn Hughes X Photographer reader

Snap Series Masterlist

Y/NJohnson

Y/NJohnson I’m a photographer and I took this photo

Aka look at my hot boyfriend 

View all comments

Nucksfan  Thank you for your service🫡

Y/NJohnson I am a woman of the people🫡

JackHughes I'm waiting for the punchline

Y/NJohnson what punchline?

JackHughes there has to be something. you're never this nice to him

Y/NJohnson I can't just appreciate my boyfriend?

_quinnhughes he's not wrong......

Y/NJohnson 🫠

_quinnhughes Thanks babe

Y/NJohnson look how cute you are

Y/NJohnson I can't tell if you're being sarcastic but you're welcome

 Elblue Love it!

Y/NJohnson love you mama Ellen 

lhughes_06 Kent your sisters being gross 

Y/NJohnson Quinn your brothers being annoying

Canucks Favourite Hughes!

fan747 Quinn with facial hair 🤤

Y/NJohnson Exactly!! #bringbackthebeard!!

_quinnhughes I remember you saying something about beard burn.... 🤨

kentjohnson.13 bleh

JackHughes nasty (not in the hockey way)

Y/NJohnson

Y/NJohnson we’ll miss you Schenner!! Enjoy living in an inferior city

#stoptradingallquinnsfriendsaway #toomanygoodbyes 

View All comments

LukeSchenn Of all the pictures you could've chosen 

Y/NJohnson you know you love me 

LukeSchenn I know you care

Y/NJohnson just shout whenever, and I’ll be there 

Bboeser you are my love, you are my heart

Y/NJohnson and we will never ever ever be apart!!!!

_quinnhughes  girl quit playing 

Kuzya_096 XXX thats wrong, you’re out 🙅‍♂️

Y/NJohnson god thats embarrassing

Y/NJohnson pssst LukeSchenn, how much for you to clock Q next time we play the Leafs?

_quinnHughes are you serious right now? 

Y/NJohnson I think you’d rock the ‘just got my ass kicked’ look! Is it wrong to want to see that?

_quinnhughes Yes!!!

Y/NJohnson oh grow up, its a little punch. Jack wouldn’t do it so I have to resort to other measures

_quinnhughes JackHughes seriously?

jackHughes Oh yeah, she tried to pay me 20 bucks to hit you

_quinnhughes Well thanks for declining 

Y/NJohnson yeah, cause he’s a fucking wimp and didn’t want you to hit him back

jackHughes you didn't grow up with him, he's a menace

Y/NJohnson Oh I'm aware and I chose to be with him which might be worse

lhughes_06 yeah it definitely is

Canucksfan4894 Justin Bieber? She’s a woman of taste. 

Y/NJohnson  oh, thats courtesy of the locker room. Lots of Beliebers in there

Canucksfan4894 LMAO really?! Who

Y/NJohnson where to start? 

_quinnHughes I will revoke your visiting privilege 

Y/NJohnson  See the pass hanging on the mirror? That means I’m untouchable motherfucker 😎

Y/NJohnson

Y/NJohnson Any speculations about trades are irrelevant. He’s here till I say he can leave BBoeser

view all comments

Fan5758 Thought this was an official announcement

Y/NJohnson It is. I’m the boss and I say he stays

Canucks not how it works unfortunately :(

Y/NJohnson You can’t take away my emotional support dumbass! 

BBoeser I'm flattered, but I thought that was Quinn?

Y/NJohnson no, he’s my emotional support depressy dumbass. There’s a difference

BBoeser Oh sorry

Y/NJohnson god Brock, keep up 🙄

_quinnHughes Babe, you can’t keep doing shit like this

Y/NJohnson I haven’t been fired yet so I’d say I can

Y/NJohnson I know y'all think I’m joking but I will lock him in my basement

_quinnHughes we dont have a basement

Y/NJohnson well I'll lock him in the coat closet then. Jesus Quinn stop ruining my fun

Jackhughes yeah jeez _quinnhughes let her kidnap someone in peace!!

Kentjohnson.13 Youre living together !? 

Y/NJohnson did I not tell you this? 

Kentjohnson.13 NO!

Y/NJohnson oh, well whatever. 

Y/NJohnson

Y/NJohnson I’m a photographer and I took this photo (round 2)

view all comments

_quinnnhughes really babe?

Y/NJohnson I’m sorry, I can’t hear you over the sound of my awesomeness

Canucks48 legend 🙌

_eliaspetterson why'd you do me like that? I thought we were friends!

Y/NJohnson I couldve chosen worse photos. I'd call that being a good friend

Canucks4985 Quinn always looks so sad!

BBoeser what is going on in the 5th pic?

Y/NJohnson Cap being a boss, obviously

kentjohnson.13 can you just be normal?

Y/NJohnson ew, why would I want that?

_quinnnhughes don't be mean to my girlfriend! She's perfect

lhughes_06 even when she posts these photos?

Y/NJohnson aw, you think I'm perfect? 🥹

kentjohnson.13 no one else does

Y/NJohnson didn't ask you but thanks bro

Y/NJohnson I drop a picture, now these b*tches feel attacked

_quinnhughes I wonder why

BBoeser I think you mean 1 bitch

Y/NJohnson you're right, its _eliaspetterson

fan857 Queen shit

Canucks Giving the people what they want

Y/NJohnson yeah, since I'm not allowed to post them on the official account anymore.

kentjohnson.13 I can't tell when its you commenting from that account anymore

Y/NJohnson that’s the point little bro. You’ll never know….

Kuzya_096 I'm kind of scared to see your camera roll

Y/NJohnson This is the worst of them

_quinnHughes I dont believe that for a second

williamlockwood Not the penalty box one

Y/NJohnson My personal favourite

jackhughes mine too. Mom hates it though

Y/NJohnson and yet he's still the favourite

Lhughes_06 thats uncalled for!

[ouroborosorder]

Can you tell me more about the negators mapping to fighting game character archetypes? I don’t know much about fgc archetypes but I love UU and this sounds super interesting.

alright so groundwork. Totsuka is a massive fighting game fan. UU is fucking full of references to street fighter already, and he's said before that he wanted to make a manga about fighting games. Dude loves them, so I'm not saying this baselessly. It's to the point where my conspiracy theory is that this started as a hypothetical fighting game roster.

I'll just go through the first few in order and then some notables:

Andy - Shoto. A mixed fighter who specializes at having good tools for any distance. Usually featuring a long-range projectile (parts bullet), a wide reaching mid-screen poke (Crescent series), and an approach option (Fucking flying.) Also, many Shotos have an "install" form, where they unleash a dormant power and transform into a more dangerous, aggressive version of themselves. Come on, dude has a Victor install. Also, "cocky immortal" is a very common fighting game archetype narratively, and one of my personal favorites tbh.

Fuuko - Setplay debuff character. Usually relies on defensive play, mixups, and pokes. When you come to understand the target well enough, you can push your luck, find their pressure point, and land a single glancing hit that applies a debuff that allows you to steamroll the opponent. And like. Falling in love with the opponent and then using that love to understand them is exactly how Fuuko fights. Characters like Londrekia from Under Night are a good touchstone here.

Shen - Chinese stereotype martial artist. This is a common thing in fighting games. Also, they tend to focus really heavily on mixups, forcing the opponent into making bad calls by faking one move and going for another - finding the truth through untruth, as it were.

Void - Bigbody close-range brawler. The dude literally walks into the boxing ring dressed like Balrog from Street Fighter. I mean, come on.

Gina - This is where my theory gets Weird but bear with me. Gina is the bigbody grappler. Grapplers in fighters are slow-moving, highly defensive, and focus primarily on forcing pressure by existing. Grapplers are scary because they don't have to change their position at all to force you to have to play differently. Plus, Gina is associated with her big barrier around her at all times that limits her movement and would make her hitbox larger. Also, her giant Unchange hands are a phenomenal grappler tool. Also, when fighters try to be subversive and make a grappler that isn't a massive guy, they almost always do it by making it a small girl who plays identical to a big guy.

Top - Obligatory rushdown fighter. His new 101 interpretation feels basically tailor-made for rushdown play tbh. Give him a rekka series and we're fucking good.

Rip - Motherfucking CHARGE CHARACTER BABY. This one is entirely because Rip literally has Guile's flash kick and a sonic boom, he does them on screen.

Phil - Full screen zoner. Also the amount of fighting games that have just one extremely weird robot character is absurd, he's basically tailor made to be the obligatory One Robot.

Billy - Copycat fighter. These aren't common anymore, but used to be more common back when sprites were frequent and tracing over another character's sprites was way faster than making a new animation. A character whose entire premise is using other fighters' moves, copying their abilities into an entirely new kit. Mechanically, these characters tend to have weird, disparate kits with a lot of unique options that otherwise would never be on a kit together, allowing them to adapt their playstyle to be the exact perfect enemy to whoever they're facing. Also "bouncing gunslinger" is a very very common fighting game trope, since fighters tend to balance out guns' innate power with weird firing angles.

Juiz - Midrange bait and punish swordfighter. Prioritizes pokes from every angle, allowing you to react and punish everything your opponent can do. Usually calm-collected fencers personality-wise. Maps perfectly to Unjustice's idea - wait until you know what your opponent's intent is, then negate their Justice.

Julia - Protege character who takes after two other members of the cast - being Fuuko and Juiz. Their fighting style usually is a mix of the two, combining their best aspects, copying their moves exactly sometimes, with their own unique aspects in there to show her own persona growing alongside their influence.

Latla - Actively a reference to Rose from Street Fighter. So. Rose from Street Fighter.

Backs - Joke character. You lose to this in bracket, you're going to be posting some real scrubquotes shit.

I can do this for almost every single Negator in the entire manga. The only characters I can't find easy maps to are Chikara, Sean, Tella, Ichico, Lucy, and whatever Unchaste's name was. (this may change if Unchaste actually ever appears again.) But they're all not fighters anyway, they're all support characters or literal children dying of an incurable disease.

[ayrtonswnna]

ʚïɞ "why would you do that?"

pairing: chris sturniolo x olivia rubens (oc)

warnings: drug addiction, mentions of underage drug use, drinking, cursing, fighting and a whole lot of angst. protagonist with a name (aka as original character), sort of a happy ending and written by someone who doesn't have english as their first language, take it easy.

in witch chris' dealer knows him for too long and can tell exactly what's going on.

chris sturniolo x dealer!oc

"you either take that little boy out the damn backyard or i'll take care of him by myself. you choose"

i sigh out loud, ranging my chair back and rubbing my face in a nervous reaction. christopher, christopher is at the damn backyard. he's there for a motherfucking hour.

"did you hear me, miss?" my older brother speaks a little louder, throwing a pen into my table to make sure i'm here. "give him whatever the fuck he wants and tell him to fuck off. you're no mom, no therapist, no whatever."

my fingers reach for the pen before i throw it back. i'm no mom and no therapist, i'm just childhood friends with the said little boy. and i actually don't have what he wants, the type of shit chris started to come here for are the kind i don't order anymore, i don't let ryan come around with, i don't let the subject reach the table.

i fucked up already. this right here was my mistake and my mistake only, was my dad heritage and my fate. the apple can't fall so far from the tree and i can accept that. me and ryan, my brother, took over the spot for a few years now and chris was already into some stuff when i got here.

then we messed around and found out. simple blunts became white lines, then candies, then pills. then whatever we had in storage.

until chris was forced into rehab last year. i wanted to disappear, felt like the worst person ever. well, i can't scape my own life and the shit i lived down for, so i disappeared from chris' life.

fuck it. i'd be for the best and i thought it would work. he knew no one else with the shit, i dragged him into this mess and could put him out too.

the joke's on me, he's showing up every now and then, back from rehab and trying to get back to his old habits too. i'd be a bitch if i let him do that.

"olivia?" ryan insists. i am truly trying to avoid chris now. soon or later he'll leave, that's what i'm telling myself for days now. "fine- i'll do it my way"

"no, ryan. leave it. i'll work it out"

ryan hits and fights. usually i let him solve this kind of problem, it's easier and quicker. but not this time, not with chris.

so i stand up, put everything on my table together and take my last deep breath. i need it to be fast. i put my hoodie on and then walk towards the fucking back door. jesus christ.

winter is approaching and it is cold as fuck outside. it ain't a surprise when the blue eyes meet me and they're all red, along with the whole pale face standing right in front me.

"liv! why would you do that? i am standing here, waiting for a fucking show up and you didn't even bother!"

my heart races. he's not sober.

the voice takes time to leave his lips, his steps aren't so sure about what to do and i hate what i see in his gaze. god, i hate everything about this.

"what do you want, chris? you need to leave, you need to go home." i close the door behind me, resting my body against it and trying to contain the hurt look on my face.

this is the boy i grew up with, we shared beds, sippy cups, ate from the same plate, sat by each other's side in kindergarten. now i gotta ignore him and keep him away from the bullshit i put him on. life's fucking lame.

"what i want, olivia? i want you to stop being such a hypocrite and go back to who you are." he approaches, the eyes going dark, the hair in a fuzzy mess. "give me what i need and i'll leave. you can go back to forgetting i exist as soon as you drop my shit off."

i shake my head in denial. i knew he's hurt by our sudden distance, i am hurt too. but it's for the best, completely for the best.

"i couldn't ever forget you exist, chris." i sigh. "just... i just won't do what you want, 'm sorry. i have nothing on me right now"

he loses the focus for a bit. the fingers interlocks in between his hair and he shakes a little bit. fuck.

"liv, i know- i know you think you're doing what's right and saving me from the fucking mess you put me in in first place, but that's not what it is! i need to feel something and i need it soon! what can't you- fuck! why can't you just be the irresponsible little bitch you have always been and give me the fucking pills!?"

no words, not even a breath. it hits me like a knife, it cuts like his words were sharpened. there isn't much to say, because i know he's fucking right.

"olivia, you always knew what i needed, you gotta help me right now." his arms go up a little bit, like he's showing me how fucked he is. as if i couldn't see it before. "i need it all to go away, i just need to chill. you know what always works, you do!"

"yeah, going home, and-and talking to the boys, having a full meal, call mom, dad. that is what you need. did you try that?"

he's back to approaching. i'd be panicked if it was a client, i'd be calling ryan. but that's just chris.

"who's mom? who's dad? who in the fuck would really want a child like this?" he points at himself, getting closer and closer. i can see it even with my blurry vision. "i don't want to see no one, i want what you have and then i'll be gone. promise"

my eyes close shut for a slight second, until a freezing cold hand meet the side of my face and a forehead meets mine. fuck. truly, fuck.

"olivia, please. i am begging you for real. give me anything. any fucking thing. i've got the money, how much do you need?"

my hand touches his, then my eyes meets his. destroyed, completely destroyed.

"i am so, so sorry, chris. i have nothing for you." it sounds like a whisper. i take his hand off my face, squeezing it just enough for it to warm up a little bit. "how long are you here? back home?"

"a month or so." answers, symply. "i need them, liv. i am begging you, i'd get on my knees for them, i-"

"you really need to go, chris. i'm gonna call matt to come and pick you up, fine? just-"

i had my phone in my hand in a second and in the other i didn't anymore. he wonders for a minute about what he's going to do with it, than he touches his own face, scratches it, stumble around and i watch. i hated being me everyday after he got sent off. it felt like being on the devil's skin just by seeing him that way.

chris is not the type of guy that should be here begging to drug himself. chris deserves a whole beautiful bright future, he's so much more than this.

and that's why i can't fight when he grabs my phone, or go feral or too serious when he's here like this. i can't treat him any worse.

"whatever you want to give me, olivia. just for one use. no need for more."

i inhale deeply, feeling the cold air fill my lungs. fine. is that what he wants?

"c'mon, let's go" i grab his arm, making our way out the backyard and into the front door.

when dad started selling stuff when we were kids, he sort of divided the house. you can access the back of it through the front door, but you gotta go through another door that's usually locked. chris and i are not going where he wants to.

"why is... why are we inside? i don't- olivia, what the fuck are you doing?"

he doesn't stop me from guiding him through the corridor and then to my room. he looks around, go quiet for a few whole minutes and then let out a little sigh, hugging his own body as i walk around and take the blankets off the bed.

"you know what you need, chris? some rest." i say, as i approach and hold his arms, letting my hands go up and down on the tattooed skin. he only has a black t-shirt on. "lemme take care of you and then we find out what we'll do, ok? hum? put some warm clothes on and sleep a little bit, what do you think?"

his eyes water and his dry lips part, he says nothing else. i don't know what he's been taking or whatever, but he is not at the best of his consciousness.

"sometimes i... sometimes i tried to fuck up just to see you come and fix it, but- but you never did it anymore." he admits, as another wave of blame hits me hard.

yeah, i'm great at fucking up people's life and everything, but i take care of my people. i'd go to war for them and sometimes war is just denying injectable shit for my childhood friend.

"i'm fixing today." i didn't mean it to sound like a whisper, but it did.

i reach for the hoodie on my mess-chair, one that was chris' before being mine.

"why did you go away? i was waiting for you to visit, or call... or... or i don't know" he is losing his way, his pupils are so wide i almost can't see the blue.

the lips shaking, the hands the same and the skin even more and more pale. there's another situation when i call ryan, when i need somebody who went to med school at some point. my brother did.

so i leave him a text and keep my cool, i take a deep breath and guide chris onto the bed, so i can help him out with hoodie since he's taller.

"i was taking care of you, trust me."

he was waiting for me but not only me. he was waiting for me with a backpack and transparent bags, and them disposable syringes.

"i needed you to this before"

when we were younger, he had this episode when we started tasting some worst things and he had a bad trip. i did exactly what i'm doing right now, let him rest his head on my stomach, let my fingers run in between his hair and press his scalp just a little bit. him sitting on this exact same bed, me standing in between his legs. just like right now.

"i do trust you my life, actually" contrasts. he shouldn't.

"what did you take, chris? i need to know"

"it is going away, do you have it? heroine? not the pure one, that mix that gets hard to put into the syringe? that-fuck. that one."

i close my eyes for an instant. my fingers massage just in the back of his ears, i can feel him weighting a bit more into my body. he's still thinking i'll get him anything or whatever.

leaving rehab and going straight to injectables is fucked up.

"my bad, liv. i had a guy over" i didn't notice ryan getting in the room with some equipment in his hands and a worried look in his face.

he hated when we chris came around and hated being around him, this is always i bright example of what our childhood became. but he cares and would never deny help.

"it's fine- can we just... just try? he had them heroine injections, the mixed one."

ryan signs heavily, mad. i don't take that heavy shit but if i did, he'd react just like this.

"is he off conscience? i need your help."

"he's going on and off, i guess. hey, chris? let's rest a little bit, fine?"

he says something too low for me to understand, but does not let go of my waist and ryan is not good on patience. that's what he means with the help thing.

so i do my best to manage to be sat on the bed, chris' body falls into mine and I hate to say it. there's a wave of panic approaching.

"you chose to put him inside, liv. deal with it, ok? he'll be fine." my brother warns. he's not good on advices and shit, he's just real.

and that's just what i need sometimes.

"can you promise?" i whimper, not even noticing i had started crying while helping him flip chris a little better. i'm still sort of under him, and if i'm being honest, i don't want to leave.

he rests on his side and on my torso, my bed is a mess now and I hold his head so he won't fall, he'd be here just like a baby if it wasn't the damn heroine and whatever the fuck else he has in his veins now.

"stop crying, olivia. i'm not functioning if you panic. you know that" ryan snaps his tongue, holding chris' arm straight for a second before signing me to do it.

i silence myself, then. still trying my best. letting my fingers caress the cold skin in chris' face, fixing the hair sometimes and watching his tense expression up close. i am trying not to lose it, i really am.

god, how did we get down here. we were two little kids playing in kindergarten, and out of nothing, that's life, that's our life. chris is off conscience in my bed after staying in my porch for hours begging for heroine. life couldn't be more unfair.

"just be careful so he won't take this off or move too much, right?" ryan demands, grabbing the stuff he just used as i didn't even notice.

we used to do that a lot. dad was an old ass drug dealer with a blank addiction to whatever felt like dying so it'd be days of me holding his unconscious body while ryan prepared the needles and everything.

"i'll call justin or whatever, he ain't spending the night"

i won't contest, i actually agree and let him leave, staring at the wall while my fingers trace lines through chris' cheeks. i hate this, i hate feeling like there's no going back.

like the hours go by and they don't change a thing, nothing gets better. when chris moves a bit, i hold him a little tighter.

"hey." i whisper, my lips pressing against his face very softly as he seems to come back to reality.

missing us is just a regular feeling at this point. i'm close enough for these minutes before any of his brothers show up.

"sorry, okay?"

the rasp on his voice and the lack of rush, the way he just turn his body to the side and take a deep breath. no curiosity for the medicine, no glance up.

"i am too" i let my fingers play around his hair, brushing it all away from his face, then back to the sides and behind his ears. "i am so sorry, chris."

"don't be." his voice is as low as before. "i'll be ok. i'm here, hmm? guess that's the drug i need"

"great, that's a drug you can actually have" i thug him a little tighter, just until i can hear a little giggle. "i ain't leaving, ok? not again"

"me neither." murmurs. "i like it better here"