#it's a mishmash of feeling left out and left behind and like the odd one out and not at all having relatable experience

[adlibitur]

*even more rugged ben affleck smoking jpeg*

[mellowwhumps]

Whumperless Whump Event Day 9: Coughing up blood / Can’t speak

OCs: Ida, Ibys, Yuuto, Elowen (AU)

CW: blood + heart attack but also not really

first actual writing of my new ocs! insane…yuuto!! is by the cool n very awesome @qiuthewhumps !!! check em out

@whumperless-whump-event

Ida started his work day feeling particularly uncomfortable and chalked it up to the recent rainy weather giving him some pathogen; certainly not the sterile environment he was currently in. He stumbled his way to the office, nearly turning the wrong direction. All the corridors looked mostly the same with fog seeming to cloud his mind.

He nearly stumbled right into his assistant, struggling to grab his chair to sit down and catch a breath. It felt like he was dying, just like back where his home was. Again. 

Ibys was saying something. He couldn’t catch it with the ringing of his ears. Instinctively, he opened his mouth to say something. His throat had something clogged up in it, and when he attempted to clear his throat, violent coughs came out instead. 

One hand clutched at his chest as though that could somehow curb the pressure in it, the other covered his mouth. His heart was a mishmash of wires. He was, perhaps, the first to ever use such technology; it was bound to malfunction some time in his life. When he pulled his hand away, he was met with crimson. 

Hastily, he hid it from the other, taking out a cream-coloured handkerchief and wiping his hand on it. He could wash that later, but right now he needed to…he needed to…

It was hard to breathe. More than that, he realised, his heartbeat was erratic, stuttering as it sped up and slowed at random. Something was wrong. 

The next cough made him fall out of his seat, black spots clouding his sight. There were voices above them, chattering incessantly. Suddenly, he felt weightless, the ground no longer in contact with his body, disorientation rendering him no longer able to keep his eyes open and shouts fading away into nothingness.

——————

Ida woke up with a start, instinctively putting his left hand on his chest. Still thumping away, beatbeatbeat. Still alive. He was fine. 

Then, he caught a glimpse of the operating table and thought otherwise.

“Ida. Calm down before your heart faults again. It’s a new version, but you still need time to adjust.” He was calm, he was — oh. Breathe in, breathe out. It was fine. He never did anything wrong to trigger any failsafe. 

The taste of iron in his mouth was all too familiar. He felt like expelling it all out of his body, at that moment, but looked up to three pairs of eyes staring at him and thought otherwise. He slotted the prosthetic arm lying by his side back to its original place and buckled the clasps, fidgeting with its digits as an attempt to ground himself. Clearly, it doesn’t work.

“Water,” Ibys, the person closest to him, said as they held up a small glass. His assistant. Just that thought sent him reeling. How much had they seen?

Ida took the glass from their hand, downing it with two large gulps, nearly choking. He wanted to ask for more, but his throat felt choked and his lungs were still struggling to register that he was alright. He looked at Yuuto, the one person who hadn’t spoken, and pointed at his chest in question.

“Don’t worry,” Yuuto stated, a strange undertone in his voice Ida couldn’t recognize. “The only ones who put a finger on you are the only ones present here right now. The problem was swiftly fixed, and should not happen again. You’re lucky the subject was present with you. Take it easy for a while, but there’s no need for an extended bed rest.” 

Yuuto’s mouth opened and closed once more, then settled on nothing but a small apology. For what? Not like it was his fault. If the entire situation wasn’t already odd, it certainly was now.

Ida gestured at the door, a silent request. Elowen nodded, pushing it open; he settled on forcing his legs to take a slow walk forward instead of running right out of the room. Ibys trailed behind them, and if they walked closer than usual to him or disappeared for a while to turn someone else’s gaze away, he pretended not to notice. 

The morning had already turned to dusk by the time he returned to the office. Food was left on his desk, long since cold. His mouth tasted like iron. 

He stared at the unopened styrofoam takeout box listlessly, and eventually pushed it to the side, picking up a random sheet of data to work on instead. Later. Later, he would deal with it.

The box ends up in the trash. Somehow, that made him feel even more sick to the stomach than before.

[firespirited]

Top photo is the dolls with hard to find skintones who got bodies from the lovely @musicalmeowsandcandiedlemons, second is the dolls who got bodies (some already custom, some futher customized) thanks to @cosmomoore! 

Then there’s the moment I fell hard for Licca-chan and friends and decided to go for it even though I couldn’t find perfect bodies: Maria, Orie-san, Sakura Brunette and Licca teal (not pictured: Sakura blonde from 2019). I blame you all for that.

Then there was the foray into larger dolls with a potential BJD in mind but i’ve decided to stick with playline. Gayle is a mishmash of a doll (yeluoli 1/3 body shrunk and bootlegged, Shibajuku head sans hair or eyes) who somehow lucked into having tons of character, her middle finger is permanently up and she’s pure chaos. She barely holds together. Azul is a dream hinge jointed doll made from wonderwoman 18″ and a Rainbow surprise head that was super backrooted. I don’t have the space or clothes for her but I love her anyway.

Lucking into Star Darlings factory rejects about a year after falling for @dollsahoy‘s Sage led to a rainbow: 3 full reroots, 2 partial, 2 more reroots to go with help and inspiration from @jupiternames. They are from left to right Scarlet, Lavender, Sage, Juniper, Vega, Anisette, Mint, Leona, Libby and not ready yet: Cinnamon in blood red and Annatto in peachy orange.

I paid for most of my doll stuff this year by konmari-ing my Bratz and Monster Highs and working on those I really wanted to keep (expanding my space angelz, creating the punk Sasha I would have loved Bratz to make and rerooting glue headed monsters).

New and not so new dolls that sparked joy were Novi Stars and Rainbow High even as I muddled through figuring out eyes for those odd shaped sockets.

Every single large toy company manged to show their racist arse spectacularly in some form or other this year and distribution to france remains bottom of the barrel or double price. If i’ve managed to convince anyone to fix up a factory reject straight from the workers or pirate shows from behind the monopoly paywalls I’d be well proud (No i’m not over “the vault”). So here’s hoping Freshdolls make it to europe, we get non smirky Moana and Raya dolls and Kida finally gets into the princess line. As for Barbie, there are multiple dolls I would have bought this year if they weren’t grainy: make better choices mattel. As it is I have a dozen more projects on my list to work through on mostly older models so i’m set for a while.

I had to learn that instagram makes me feel like a “have not” when it comes to both the new shinies and the skills so avoid that explore button and tag following. And expand my energies locally and personally when it comes to activism and donation. Same with the news: it’s so out of my league, out of my control: just gotta check in with friends when news that affects them comes up and do whatever little I can to keep my loved ones as safe as possible. I’d love for USA postal customs to start functioning normally but M4A first because as much as I miss trading, I’d love to know my ‘ricain friends are safe more.

Here’s to plastic rainbows and you folks giving me too many cool ideas =p

[mashtonasfuck]

there’s a ghost in the back of this room

Pairing: Ashton Irwin x Calum Hood (and also a bonus side of muke that happened accidentally)

Prompt:

Person B is a ghost in Person A’s house and they would be really freaked out but Person B always leaves really good advice using the kitchen magnets, so Person A is not really bothered

Warnings: mention of a missing person who reader knows is dead/a ghost

Word Count: 3K

A note from Lucy: This is part of the halloween writers collab organised by @maluminspace​ and @h0tsos. The masterlist can be found here. See the end of the post for more notes. Hey look, I managed to write cashton fic without it turning into smut! Thanks to @loveroflrh and @kindahoping4forever for reading this over for me 💙

If you’d like to be added to my tag list then please fill in this form

You can find my masterlist here

This work must not be reposted anywhere - I do not give my permission for it to appear anywhere other than on my blog, or on my ao3 page.

——————————————————————————

“Ashton, why does your fridge say ‘stop being an idiot’?” Ashton glanced over to where Luke was staring at the fridge door in mild amusement. 

“Oh, that’s just Calum - ignore him. I usually do” Ashton rolled his eyes as a picture fell off the wall as he finished speaking, the thud causing Luke to spin around, eyes wide.

“What was that?” 

“I just brushed past the picture and knocked it off, that’s all.”

Luke narrowed his eyes at Ashton, the older man chuckling as he hung the picture back up. 

“Come on, let’s watch this damn movie you don’t shut up about.”

–

Why did you tell Luke to ignore me

The question was on Ashton’s fridge the next morning, the letters a mishmash of colours and cases. Ashton pinched the bridge of his nose as he read it - only he would get a self conscious ghost living in his house. 

“Calum, are you here?”

A cupboard door opened and a mug floated down onto the counter a few feet away from him - Ashton took that as a yes and shoved a pod into his coffee machine before grabbing the mug and pushing the button. 

“I was only messing with you, Cal. Besides, you’re my ghost, it has nothing to do with Luke.”

Ashton watched as the letters on the fridge rearranged themselves, sipping on his coffee and humming at the bitterness dancing on his tongue. 

Do you not want your friends to know about me

Ashton groaned internally, how could he explain this to his house ghost without offending him? 

“I think they’d be pretty freaked out if they knew I lived with a ghost. You saw Luke’s reaction to you knocking that picture off the wall. Besides, I like keeping you a secret, you’re mine.”

It’s pretty hard for me to be yours when you’ve never even seen me

Ashton had in fact seen Calum. Or at least a photo of Calum. 

– 

He hadn’t been in the house more than a month when he started to realise that things kept happening. A photo moved slightly, the couch not being quite as tidy as he’d left it. The day Ashton had realised he actually had a ghost, he’d come home to find a new photo of him and Luke floating in midair. 

“Um, hello?”

The photograph was dropped hastily, as though Ashton had scared the ghost he evidently had living in his house. After that, Ashton started talking to the ghost, even though he never got a reply aside from the odd knock on a table or a wall. It was while he was at a store grabbing something for dinner that he saw the fridge magnets. He grabbed all of the packets they had and drove home with a grin on his face.

“So, I bought you these today,” Ashton held out the magnets towards where he hoped his ghost was, “I thought maybe you could try talking back to me?”

Ashton felt a small whoosh of air as the ghost moved around the kitchen and he tore open the first packet, dumping the contents into a drawer he never used. Almost immediately the letters started floating from the drawer towards his fridge and Ashton watched as the ghost arranged the letters into a sentence.

Hello Ashton

“Hello, ghost. Oh - what’s your name? It feels weird calling you ‘ghost’.”

The letters arranged themselves once again.

My name is Calum

“Nice to finally know your name, Calum. How was your day?”

I’m a ghost Ashton

The brunette snorted as he watched the letters form another sentence.

Boring thank u for asking

Ashton laughed before spending the next few hours conversing with his ghost - with Calum - via fridge magnets. Calum had told him his full name after Ashton insisted upon knowing it.

“If you ever piss me off, I need to know what to call you.”

Calum Hood

It lingered there for a few seconds before ‘Hood’ was moved over.

Calum Thomas Hood

Ashton turned it over in his mind. Why did that name sound so familiar to him? He thought nothing more of it until he was at work a few days later.

STILL NO SIGN OF MISSING MAN 

Police are still searching for Calum Thomas Hood, 24, who disappeared from his home 6 months ago. They’re urging anyone who may know anything about his disappearance to come forward. 

Attached to the article had been a photo of the missing man, and Ashton knew it was his Calum. (He’d later cut the photograph out of the newspaper and taped it to the bottom of his desk drawer where no one would find it.) When he’d got home from work that day, Ashton had asked Calum how he’d died. 

Not sure don’t remember

Ashton had debated telling the police that he knew exactly where Calum Thomas Hood - or at least his soul - was. He’d told Calum this one evening and a single word had appeared on his fridge.

Crazy

– 

Calum was bored. 

Sure, being a ghost meant that he could walk through walls and move things with his mind, but being bound to one place had its drawbacks. There were only so many times you could move things around waiting to see how long it took Ashton to find them before you’d moved everything. 

(He’d even tried to swap all the furniture in Ashton’s bedroom with all the furniture in his living room, but Ashton had come home earlier than Calum had anticipated and made him put it all back to normal without any help. Moving things with your mind was tiring. 

“You’re a ghost, Cal, how can you get tired?”

Calum had used all of the ‘i’s and the ‘l’s to make a middle finger on Ashton’s fridge door.)

Calum thought that Ashton could sense how restless he was. Ashton seemed to find new reasons to work from home during the day so Calum wasn’t by himself. Not that they could really interact unless Ashton was in the kitchen. They’d tried using a pen and some paper once, but Calum’s ghostly abilities didn’t seem to extend to pens. He couldn’t seem to get the pressure right to actually leave ink on the paper. Ashton had laughed at him before being met with a cushion to the face. 

Calum missed being alive. He missed being able to go outside. He missed coffee. He missed being able to pet dogs.

Most of all, he was frustrated that he couldn’t remember how he’d even become a ghost. At night while Ashton was asleep, Calum tried to remember what had happened. (There wasn’t much else to do while your best friend was sleeping.) He’d get so far into the memory and then something would tug him back into the present moment. It was disconcerting. Calum could sense that he was close to finding out the truth, but something was stopping him. He’d tried to explain it to Ashton but ran out of letters and gave up. He’d debated asking the other man to buy more, but had resigned himself to the fact that it just wasn’t worth it. Ashton wasn’t going to be able to help him figure out what had happened - it was something he needed to figure out for himself.

– 

“Hey Cal, how do you feel about me throwing a Halloween party this year?”

Although Ashton couldn’t see him, he knew that Calum had raised an eyebrow at his question. 

It’s your house Ashton

“Well excuse me for wanting to make sure my resident ghost wasn’t inconvenienced.” Ashton smirked at his fridge as Calum spelt out a new message.

Appreciate it

Sure, have a party

Ashton cheered aloud and began reeling off his ideas to Calum, barely giving the ghost time to form a sentence. Calum shook his head fondly at the man standing opposite him - if Calum had been alive and met Ashton, he was sure that they’d have been best friends. When Ashton had finished speaking, Calum had one thing to say.

You already have a haunted house Ash

– 

The party had taken Ashton weeks of planning and he’d dragged Luke into the prep early on in the process. 

Calum liked having Luke around - he was fun to mess with. He’d taken to moving Luke’s glass from wherever he’d put it down and putting it on the other side of the room. Watching Luke’s bewilderment was a new favourite activity of Calum’s - Ashton had to keep taking the fall for his antics. 

As Halloween rolled around, Ashton’s house really did look haunted. Every room was shrouded in black and there were cobwebs all over the place. (Calum’s favourite thing was the skeleton hiding behind the downstairs closet door that jumped out whenever you walked past it.) According to Ashton, the outside looked just as scary as the inside, but Calum had to take his word for it. 

As people started arriving, Calum retreated into Ashton’s room. He didn’t usually go anywhere near the other man’s room, but Ashton had told him that it was okay if he needed to get away from all the people. Calum was worried about being walked through. Ashton had done it a few times by accident, and Calum had felt sick every time it had happened. That was something they were both eager to avoid, especially once Calum had explained to Ashton how it felt. 

A knock on Ashton’s bedroom door piqued Calum’s interest and Luke’s head appeared around the door frame.

“Ash, are you - oh. You’re not here.” Luke started to close the door but stopped suddenly, pushing it back open and slipping inside before closing it behind him. He glanced around a few times, gaze running over where Calum was sitting on the end of the bed. 

“This is going to sound crazy, but is there someone else in here?”

Calum cocked his head at Luke’s words; he knew that Ashton wasn’t particularly forthcoming with Luke about his existence. He shifted off the end of the bed, moving across the room to stand about a foot away from Luke. The blonde let out a breath as he felt the temperature in the room drop slightly.

“Calum, right?” Luke’s voice was quiet as he spoke, Calum smiling at the fact that Luke remembered his name. He picked up a pillow from Ashton’s bed in response, tossing it gently towards Luke. The other man caught it easily, eyes growing wide at the pillow that was suddenly in his arms.

“Holy shit, you are actually real.” 

Calum let out a laugh at Luke’s words, amazement etched into the blonde’s face. 

“I’ll be right back, don’t go anywhere.”

The blonde left the room, returning a few minutes later with an armful of stuff. He dropped it all on Ashton’s bed before turning around and facing the room. 

“So, um, I bought a small magnetic whiteboard and some of the letters from Ashton’s kitchen drawer and I was wondering if we could talk about something?”

Luke watched in shock as the letters began arranging themselves on the whiteboard.

Hi Luke

What’s up

Luke sucked in a breath before he started talking.

– 

Calum knew this was crazy. 

Luke was crazy.

Just because it was Halloween, it didn’t mean that Ashton would suddenly be able to see him. Calum had always thought the whole ‘veil being thinner on Halloween’ thing was bullshit. Luke was insistent that it wasn’t, telling him that if anyone would be able to see him it would be Ashton.

“He’s in love with you, I think.” 

The way Luke had said it had been so casual, but it sent Calum’s mind reeling. Ashton couldn’t possibly love him. He barely even knew him. Luke had dismissed Calum’s concerns before he’d even completed a sentence on the board. The more Calum thought about it, the more he was sure that he was the one in love with Ashton. He paused rearranging the letters for a moment as he stared at Luke. 

Think I love him too

Luke had lit up with a smile at Calum’s words before slipping out of the room to find Ashton. 

Calum was sure if he had any contents in his stomach, that they would be on their way out by now. He was so nervous. Luke was so sure that this would work, that Calum found himself believing the blonde man wholeheartedly. It felt like an eternity before Luke finally returned dragging Ashton behind him, along with another man that Calum had never seen before. 

“Calum, this is Michael. He’s my boyfriend and he’s also slightly psychic.”

Michael blushed a deep red at Luke’s words, scanning the room before he locked eyes with Calum. 

“Hello, Calum.” 

Calum waved gingerly at the green eyed man staring at him, Michael breaking out into a smile. He glanced at Luke and nodded slightly, the blonde smirking at Ashton. Ashton was standing behind Luke looking bewildered as he watched the exchange between his friends. 

“Can someone please explain to me what’s going on? Luke, how did you find out about Calum?” 

Luke glanced over his shoulder at the brunette man and rolled his eyes. 

“Please, I don’t know why you thought no one would find the picture you’d taped to your desk drawer. Coupled with the fact that you kept blaming ‘Calum’ for things. You weren’t exactly subtle, Ash. I put two and two together and did a google search.”

Ashton’s jaw dropped open as Luke spoke, Calum snickering at his reaction. Michael smiled widely at Calum and turned to face Ashton. 

“You already know what Calum looks like, right?”

Ashton nodded slowly, fearful of where this was going.

“As we all know, the veil is thinner on Halloween, therefore allowing spirits to pass between the realms. I’ve never tried to bring an actual ghost through the veil, but there’s a first time for everything, right?” Michael rolled his shoulders as he spoke, turning back to face Calum. “Provided this goes right, we should all be able to see you. I mean, I already can. But Luke and Ashton too. Worst case scenario is that only I can see you, and this doesn’t work. You only live once though, right?” 

Calum rolled his eyes at Michael’s words, bracing himself for whatever the man was about to do. 

“Oh, wait.” Michael glanced at Ashton before looking back towards Calum, “Say something to me, Calum. I need to know if I can hear you already or not.”

Calum raised an eyebrow at Michael.

“You’re such a know-it-all, Michael.” 

Michael broke out into laughter, Luke and Ashton looking at him in confusion.

“This is gonna be fun, nice to meet you Calum.” Michael smirked at him before cracking his knuckles, “You’re gonna fit right in with us all, I’m sure of that.”

“Michael, what exactly are you going to do?” Ashton’s voice was nervous, he didn’t like the fact that Michael could see Calum when he couldn’t.

“We, my dear friends, are going to summon Calum firmly into the realm of the living.”

– 

Calum felt the air around him grow fuzzy as he watched the three figures sat on the floor in front of him. 

“Now Ashton, I need you to imagine Calum standing right in front of you. Really imagine it. See him in your mind’s eye. You got it? Good.” Michael looked away from Ashton and back towards Calum. “Cal, whenever you’re ready, I need you to come and stand in front of Ashton. I’m 80% sure that this is going to work. It depends how well Ashton is visualising.”

The brunette huffed in Michael’s direction and Calum smirked. 

“Is he always like this when I’m not around?”

Michael grinned at Calum before nodding and gesturing to the spot on the floor in front of Ashton. 

“Whenever you’re ready, Calum.”

– 

Holy shit

“Cal?” Ashton’s voice was barely a whisper as he stared at the man suddenly standing before him.

“Hi, Ash.” Calum blushed under the other man’s gaze, casting a look towards Luke and Michael who were both sat on the floor smirking.

Ashton blinked a few times before slowly standing up and reaching towards Calum. The other man grabbed his arm as he stood, helping to pull him off the floor. 

“How - how are you corporeal right now?” Ashton looked over at Michael who simply shrugged in return.

“You must be really good at visualising. It was only supposed to make Calum visible and hearable. Whether or not he was corporeal was out of my control.” Michael pulled Luke to his feet as he stood up, taking the blonde’s hand, “Now, if you don’t mind, I need to go and make out with my boyfriend in Ashton’s spare room. Nice to meet you, Cal. I daresay we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other in the near future.” 

Michael dragged Luke from the room, the blonde waving absentmindedly at Ashton and Calum as they retreated, closing the door behind them. 

“It’s really you.” Ashton ran his hand up Calum’s arm. The other man was wearing the same clothes as in the photo Ashton had seen, Calum’s leather jacket feeling smooth against his fingers. 

“It’s really me, Ash.” Calum brought a hand up rest against the back of Ashton’ neck. “It’s so weird to be able to talk to you and for you to actually be able to hear me.”

Ashton laughed quietly at Calum’s words, leaning forwards to rest their foreheads together. 

“I can’t believe you’re really standing here and I can see you. Remind me to get Michael a case of beer or something.” 

“Noted.” Calum grabbed both of Ashton’s hands, lacing their fingers together. “I’ve thought about being able to touch you for so long.”

Ashton hummed quietly at the other man’s words, the realisation finally setting in.

Calum was here. He could see Calum. He could hear him. He could feel him. 

“Ash, I need to tell you something.” Calum nudged Ashton’s head up so they were eye to eye. “I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you.” 

Ashton smiled softly at the admission.

“Pretty sure I’m in love with you too, Cal. I mean, it’s kinda complicated because you’re a ghost and all, but I really do love you.”

Calum searched Ashton’s face for any sign of hesitancy before closing the distance between them. 

——————————————————————————

Notes: I deliberately left this open ended so I can come back to it in the future. I hope you like it, I’m really unsure about it 🥺 please let me know what you think here

Taglist: @pxrxmoore, @irwinkitten, @kindahoping4forever, @sadistmichael, @loveroflrh, @adoringlrh, @pinkbubbles-and-bigtroubles, @maluminspace, @malumsmermaid, @lashtonswildflower, @irwindoll, @castaway-cashton, @everyscarisahealingplace, @converse-luke, @zhangyixingxing1, @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25

[grey-eyed-menace]

Like A Dame (Snapshots)

Mammon: *trying his best at being casual* ...so, uh, why're you and Flower-Girl in suits?

Sora: *looking down at her watch in vague interest, frowning at the time* Diavolo provided our outfits for the evening, I complied, Mio guilt tripped Lucifer and Satan into providing a mishmash of their clothes.

Mammon: *visibly disappointed* Don't ya still have a bunch of leftover dresses from the other times?

Sora: And deal with Asmo's appraising glare? No thanks, I get enough flack from him as is about my lack of taste in fashion. I mean, fuck the rest of the Devildom, but I live with Asmodeus. I have to deal with that shit, I'm not Mio, I can't just zone out.

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

[Pan behind the refreshments where Leviathan, Mio, and Beel have decided to hide out for the night. The latter two of which are currently splitting what looks like to be an entire raspberry cheesecake, and the former seems to be playing a Gacha game on Mio's phone.]

(Luke stumbles upon them, wearing a rather pretty sailor dress, with his hair done up in pigtails. He puts his hands on hips, frowns cutely, and looks down on them in disappointment.)

Luke: Is this really how you spend every event? No variation?

Mio: *casually fork wrestling Beel away from her three claimed slices of cheesecake* Not every event, no. Sometimes, Belphie or Satan join us, other times Levi and I shack up in the coat room, or Beel decides too safeguard the entire refreshment table. There's plenty of variation.

Luke: That's not what I meant and you know it.

Mio: And you're hiding from Phenex, aren't you?

[In the distance, a rather high pitched call of 'Luke!' can be heard as an incredibly pretty female looking aqua haired demon traverses the dance floor.]

Luke: ...*sighs* Can you slide over?

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

Sora: So that was Marchosias?

Satan: Yes, unfortunately, it seems she's not incredibly fond of you.

Sora: *blinks stupidly* Not fond? She's my lab partner. If anything, she loves me. It's just... Well, I'm hanging out with the guys she kind of... You know, followed into hell? It's awkward dude. Like... I think I've seen her vault out a six story building just to avoid Beel.

Satan: Truly?

Sora: *shrugs* Hey, a large majority of people avoid their family like the plague, others try to stay connected, and some, like Phenex, decide that they're gonna be said families problem. Whether they like it or not.

Satan: And you? What's your category?

Sora: *without so much as pausing to think* Reluctant orphan adoptee with five siblings, three cousins, and a really fucking weird extended family.

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

Solomon: Ah, Diana!

[Solomon rushes over to his old student with a bright smile, clad in a black form fitting dress with white accents, paired with a gold sash, and silver heels. He also, rather inexplicably, has a rather modest set of breasts.]

(Diana, by comparison, is dressed in a rather oversized midnight blue tux with a grey bowtie, and a white sash around her hips, a large spade sewn over her heart.)

Diana: *blinks tiredly, presses a hand to her face, and sighs, preparing herself for an oncoming clusterfuck* Yes Solomon?

Solomon: *grin persisting* I'm calling in a favor, I need you to help me with something.

Diana: *closes eyes, breaths in, and then exhales* ...next time, next time, I'm taking Bridget and Eirny up on that fourth honey moon.

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

Spade: Has anyone ever told you that you're infuriating?

Phenex: *humming as they drag him around the dance floor* Constantly, you?

Spade: Only my children.

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

[As the party begins to wind down, Mio has decided to briefly venture out from behind the refreshments table, only to come upon a staring contest between Phenex and Simeon.]

(Simeon looks incredibly uncomfortable. Phenex is simply Smiling, it's not a pretty smile, no, it's the smile that got Diavolo to back down from including them and Luke in the butler fiasco.)

Mio: ...do I want to know?

Simeon: *still uneasily meeting Phenex's gaze* No.

Phenex: *still Smiling* It's just drama between siblings, you understand don't you Mio-chan?

(Mio raises an eyebrow at Simeon, then turns to Phenex, and back to Simeon, before casting her gaze to where Luke and the others were at before sighing.)

Mio: Right, uh, well, I'll be leaving then, see you guys at R.A.D. tomorrow, I suppose.

(Mio proceeds to speed walk back to where Beel, Levi, and Luke are without a second thought.)

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

[By way of an escaped Lucifer, the Ubuyashiki-Shibata cousins are currently dancing with one another.]

(Mio is leaning against Sora's shoulder, as the latter leads her through the steps of a butchered slow waltz.)

Mio: How's day been so far? Well, I know mine hasn't been the best, Levi stole the last cupcake.

Sora: *sighing* I see you've been dreadfully bored.

Mio: Bored doesn't begin to cover it, I miss the more... Nerve wracking events!

Sora: Mio, we nearly die everytime those events happen.

Mio: Not always! Sometimes I get lucky! I got to hold Mammon's hand during that room by room puzzle!

Sora: ...Lord above *pointedly ignoring the scandalized gasps from passing demons* you two are pathetic.

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

[After what seems to be an eternity, Diana and Spade join together on the dance floor.]

(Sora and Asmo watch from by the refreshments opposite to the one Beel, Levi, and Mio are hiding behind, Diana and Spade gliding right by them, completely ignorant of their presence, only focused on one another.)

Sora: *eyes following them* Please tell me you feel like your intruding, please, I don't want to feel alone.

Asmo: *humming, already going about fixing Sora's bun* I don't know why you're hoping to find solidarity with me Sora, I mean, it's cute, but honestly? This just excites me. To see something so intimate and gentle... Ah, it makes me ache for simpler times.

Sora: *whimpers*

Asmo: *pats her shoulder reassuringly*

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

[It's the last dance of the night, and the Ubuyashiki-Shibata cousins are each dancing with their own prospective partners completely stone-faced.]

(Sora, dressed in a silver suit and black tie, with her hair up in a braided bun reminiscent of Arturia Pendragon, is dancing with Mammon.

Mio, by comparison, dancing with Belphie, and therefore helping support him, is dressed in an odd mishmash of Lucifer, Asmo, and Satan's clothes. A pair of navy blue slacks, a black dress shirt, dark pink tie and white blazer. Her hair is gathered into a short ponytail at the base of her skull, tied off with a red ribbon. Asmo is distinctly glaring at her from where he's dancing with Diana.)

Mammon: What's got you pissed off Girlie?

Sora: *still completely stone-faced* Fate, the world, Phenex's continued existence, an array of things. Most glaringly, perhaps it's the fact that you couldn't ask my cousin to dance so you stole me away from Beel and Belphie?

Mammon: *clears throat, as Sora leads him into an awkward dip* ...right, got me there Girlie.

(Across the floor, Belphie stirs enough to ask a question.)

Belphie: Why're you so stiff? Actually, why aren't you Sora, and where is Beel?

Mio: *pointedly smiling at Asmo as he passes by with Diana before answering* Mammon's a coward, and Lady Rose is genuinely convinced I'm a man.

Belphie: *already drifting off again* Got it...

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

[After the ball ends, the brothers and the Ubuyashiki-Shibata cousins proceed with the trek home.]

(Beel has taken to supporting Belphie with his left arm, while Sora, on his right, proceeds to routinely supply him with snacks.

Mio has taken to trying to convince Levi to give her phone back before they arrive at the House of Lamentation, while riding on Mammon's back piggy back style, grin plastered on her face, with Levi arguing hotly about being in the middle of raid on a mobile dungeon game of some sort.

Asmo is on Mammon's left side, mumbling obscenities about Mio's fashion choices.

Meanwhile, Satan and Lucifer are at the back of the pack quietly bickering about something or other.

Phenex, as usual, is stocking the poor 'family' of nine from the shadows.)

Sora: It was a good night, you know.

Beel: *chewing around a candy bar of some sort, and shifting Belphie's weight slightly* Yeah, it kinda was, wish there was more food at the refreshments table though, it was good.

Sora: Meh, I'll take your word for it, all I had was some of that Blood Punch, which... Yeah, not really for me, I think Solomon spiked it with something for the lesser demons.

Beel: Is that why Diana looked like she wanted to drop dead every time Diavolo came by for a drink?

Sora: Mmh, that and I think it was because she was forced to dance with Phenex for most of the night, she and Mister Spade only danced once, even if lasted the rest of the night.

(They silent the rest of the way to the House of Lamentation. At which, they all separate, undress, and promptly pass out, well, except for Levi, who remains with Mio's phone held hostage well until early morning.)

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

[The next morning, the household is rather groggy as they make their way down to breakfast.]

Mammon: Last night must 'ave been something else, my feet freakin' hurt.

Beel: You're one to talk, I feel like my ankles are planning a mutiny.

Mio: I woke up in a binder, guys, a binder. What the hell? I thought I wasn't going to be the Dame!

Sora: At least you didn't feel like you were suffocating the entire night, my chest still feels like it's about to cave in, fucking hell...

Levi: *shrugs* I'm actually fine with whatever happened.

Belphie: *head thunks against the table*

(Several moments later, there's an array of notifications from Asmo's phone. Loud shrill beeps are all that make up the next two or so minutes.)

Lucifer: *sighs* ...It seems I forgot about the social media ban, lovely.

[obihoekenobi]

title: sandstorm

pairings: din djarin/reader/cobb vanth

ratings: explicit

warnings: smut, threesome, unprotected sex

word count: 4,311k

What happens when a sandstorm, a Marshal and a Mandalorian turn up on your doorstep?

An afternoon to remember.

Link to AO3

You think it's a mirage at first, as you look out towards the horizon.

You straighten up from the ground, shielding your eyes against the twin sun's, as you try to make out the blurred figures.

Your Bantha, Mirta, snuffs against your arm as if to remind you she's still there. You place a hand on her in comfort, as you try to figure out if you're seeing things. You don't get many visitors out this way. The closest town was Mos Pelgo and those folk didn't often have reason to venture out from the haven their small town provided. If it could even be called that, between the Tusken raiders and the Krayt dragon.

Mirta stirs restlessly beside you, as you become aware of the wind picking up around you. Another day, another kriffin' sandstorm.

As you cast another look out, you realize the figures accelerating towards you are on speeders, dust kicking up behind them as they try to escape the coming storm.

With a sigh, you wipe your hands with the towel that hangs from your waist. You cast one last glance at your fast approaching guests, as you herd Mirta inside.

She was the runt of the litter, and just small enough to fit through the wide door into your storage room. You pull the tarp down to protect from the worst of it, as you fondly watch her settle down in some discarded blankets. You both knew it was a pretense at this point, pretending she should sleep outside. More often than not, she ended up in here.

"Behave", you say, pointing a finger at her in warning. You don't have to see her eyes through the thick fur, to know she's staring balefully at you.

You're interrupted from the staring contest, at the sound of speeders drawing to a stand outside.

Pulling your goggles down from where they rest on your forehead, and wrapping your shawl back around your head, you peel away the tarp and step back out into the elements.

Sand buffets against your exposed skin, as you try to take in the two men. Even after years of experience, you still flinch as sand rolls over you and streaks across the protective transparisteel of your goggles.

Wasting no time, you gesture the men after you, as you enter the sanctuary of your home.

You do your best to shake the excess sand off, as you wait from them in the entry way. You can't help but shake your head as you recognize who it is.

The marshal of Mos Pelgo, Cobb Vanth.

You wonder what he was thinking now, as he ducked inside your home. He always did warn you about the dangers of living alone, and here you were welcoming him and his friend into your home without a second thought.

Speaking of his friend, you send him an assessing look, as he steps in hesitantly after his companion and closes the door behind him, the noise from the storm cutting off with a shrill whistle until it sounds distant and muted. You don't see many Mandalorian out this way. You don't see many people, period.

"Much obliged, ma'am", Cobb says, easing his own goggles up over his head and shaking free the sand like a Mastiff pup. He shoots you a disarming grin, somehow managing to look dashing with his skin covered in a film of dirt.

You just barely stop yourself from rolling your eyes.

"Don't make me regret it", you say dryly, as you begin to divest yourself of your gear.

Cobb joins you in stacking his outerwear in a nearby cubby, but not before shooting a look at his friend. You file it away for later, as you watch the Mandalorian shift nervously on your doorstep.

"You don't have to take anything off, but I don't want you tracking sand inside", you say, shooting a mournful look around the already messy hallway, "you can clean up in privacy, if you go in through the door on the left".

It was a washroom, if it could even called that. It had a mirror, a stool and a sonic that didn't worked more often than not. Still, it should let him clean up without any prying eyes, if that was his problem.

When Cobb sends you a grateful look, you know you're right. You both watch the other man disappear through the door.

"He's the shy type", he whispers, jokingly, as he empties the sand from his boots. He knows the house rules after all.

"Not unlike yourself", you say, unable to contain the quip. He treats you to another blinding grin, and you're glad your face is still covered, as you feel it heat up in response.

"You know what I'm like", he says, falling into the familiar banter, "always a man of few words".

"I don't think I can keep this joke up much longer", you reply, finally unwinding the shawl from around your face, winching as become aware of the sand still clinging to your skin. You use the fabric to wipe away the excess, as you eye the other up and down.

"What happened to your armour?", you ask, as you finally realize why he looks so different. You didn't notice it at first, distracted by the blood red scarf he had used to cover his upper half. He looks strange without it, vulnerable somehow.

"It was returned to it's rightful owner", he replies easily, in that way you find so infuriating. It's like nothing bothers him.

You're interrupted before you can say anything, by the re-emergence of your other guest. You can't help but envy him, as you realise he looks no worse for wear.

"Well, come on in", you say, for lack of anything better.

They follow you down the narrow hall into the main room. Both have to duck through the door, to fit inside. You busy yourself with preparing dinner, as you let them get their bearings.

You've taken it in a million times now. From the bare walls to the rounded ceiling, the room was filled with all the necessities for life in the desert. The kitchen was where you retreated to, as you listened to the men seat themselves at your table.

"What brought you out this far?", you ask, as you rifle through your cupboards. Usually you settled for a small, simple meal, a mixture of things you had farmed yourself or traded for when you made your monthly trip to Mos Eisley.

"Well, my friend here, he insisted we had to visit, after I described the vision of the wastes".

You shoot him a look over your shoulder, this time you don't bother to hide the eye roll.

"Tap the table twice if you're being kept against your will, Mandalorian".

He makes a rasping sound from beneath his helmet in response, like a laugh that's been cut off too soon. You notice the way the Marshal's eyes flicker towards him, both of you cataloging the sound.

"Are you kidding, this guy can't get enough of me", Cobb replied, "he came all the way back to this rock to visit lil ol' me".

"I find that hard to believe", you say, as you carry a tray of simple food over. It's mishmash of dried meats and pickled vegetables, with Mirta's milk as the crowning feature.

You listen to Cobb as he recounts how the two met, nodding along where appropriate. The Mandalorian mostly let's the other man speak, though he does interrupt once or twice to curb his enthusiastic retelling. By the end you're aware your mouth is open, but you can't hide your shock.

"You were inside the Krayt dragon?", you repeat, turning to stare at the armoured man. His hand rubs almost self consciously along the back of his neck, but he doesn't outright deny it.

"I never even noticed anything had happened", you continue dumbly, "I've been so busy these past few weeks with Mirta".

"How is the old gal?", Cobb asks, and you smile in response to the genuine warmth you can hear in his voice. The Bantha had taken an instant liking to the lanky Marshal, which was part of why you had even let him into your house, after greeting the stranger loitering outside with your hunting rifle.

"Much better now but I worry about her you know", you reply, rolling your empty glass between your hands, "they're herd animals, Banthas".

"I'm sure she's just fine, you treat her like a princess after all", Cobb replies, as he rests a hand on your arm in comfort. Your eyes drop to the contact, his grip hot like a brand against your skin.

"Yeah, well, she is the head of the house", you reply, weakly. It's been a long time since another being has touched you, and feel your stomach swoop as he removes his hand.

The Mandalorian saves you from any embarrassment, by continuing to speak.

"You don't get any trouble?", he asks, and you feel your lips twitch into a smile. You can tell he's honourable, just like Cobb, already worried about your safety. There was no doubt in your mind, he would ride out into the sandstorm to slay whatever foe you could come up with. Two honourable men at your table, what were the odds.

"Don't get much of anything", you reply, truthfully.

"What about the Tuskens?".

"She's a Tusken whisperer, just like you Mando", Cobb said, interrupting before you could reply, "they respect her because of the Bantha".

The Mandalorian, Mando, dips his head towards you and it takes you a moment to realise he wants you to explain.

"My Bantha, Mirta, she's the runt of the litter. Banthas, they're a matriarchy, and when she fell behind her herd, they left her. I found her out there in the desert and nursed her back to health. The Tuskens caught wind of it and apparently it was enough to win their respect. They bond for life with the younglings, so they liked that I managed to keep her alive".

"So they leave you in peace", he supplied.

"Yeah, and Tuskens raids are about the only thing I have to worry about out here, not that I have anything worth stealing anyway".

You feel guilty, as you realize that only you and Cobb have been eating, picking away at the spread before you.

"Now, I don't know if you'll take that helmet off with your friend here, but I'm going to the fresher and if you want you can either eat in here or you can go through that door over there to eat in the storage closet. It's a tight fit but it's private".

You don't linger, though you can feel Cobb's heavy gaze on you until you disappear from his sight. You can't help but remember the last time he was here, how you stayed up all night, drinking and talking before you eventually stumbled to bed. It wasn't the first time you had slept with him, and it probably wouldn't be the last. You were sure he might have joined you in the sonic, if it wasn't for his stoic companion.

You can't help but compare the looks he had shared with you, with how he looked at the Mandalorian. You let your mind conjure the image, as you strip off your clothes. Cobb would act first, you decide as you step into the sonic. You can imagine him coaxing the other closer, voice dipping low in that way that had sent shivers up your spine when you first heard it. Still would now, if you were being honest with yourself.

After a moment of indecision, you switch the setting over so that water flows from the showerhead. You don't indulge too often, so you can't help but sigh as the cool water runs over your head.

You don't wish the Mandalorian wasn't there, couldn't grudge the company or the bright spot in your otherwise dull routine, but you can't help but wish it could be different. Out here, you were caught in a lonely world of your own creation, and very few things could break the the monotony.

After indulging for as long as you can, you switch the shower off. You shiver as you step out onto the cool stone, letting out a huff of amusement as you realize you forgot to bring in a change of clothes. You weren't used to company after all.

You do your best to dry off, and wrap the towel securely around yourself. Knowing you'll be embarrassed if you think about it for too long, you knock lightly against the bathroom door to announce your intentions.

When you hear no response, you peer back into the main room. You're surprised to find the Mandalorian alone, sitting picturesque at your kitchen table.

You don't have to see his face, to see the surprise written across his frame as he freezes at your appearance.

"I'm sorry, I've forgotten my manners it seems", you say, gesturing down at your lack of attire, "I don't get many guests".

He stands from his seat and for a moment you think he's going to leave, horrified by the show of skin. But then, he steps closer to you. You can see the question, as he raises his palm up slowly towards you. You find yourself nodding, even as you clench your fists at the top of towel that protects you from his gaze.

You quickly find yourself reassessing your previous assumptions, as he shifts forward with a confident ease. You swallow dryly, as his gloved hand closes around your neck. It should be frightening, having this stranger touch you, but the weight is comforting and grounding and you feel yourself quietly exhale as his thumbs digs in under your chin.

You take a moment to assimilate to each other, as he steps even closer. He's a contradiction of warm gloves and cold armour. He doesn't demand your attention, and yet he manages to block out everything around you. It's probably why you don't hear Cobb, until he clears his throat from the entry way.

"I can't leave you two alone for a minute, can I?", he asks, and you're relieved to see he doesn't appear to be angry. Instead, he seems intrigued. You can't make out who he's really looking at, as his eyes track over you both. You preen slightly under the attention, pressing closer to Mando in what you hope is a compelling image.

The Mandalorian doesn't seem perturbed by the audience, the opposite infact. He seems focused on the task, as gloved fingertips slide between the width of your shoulder blades, sweeping up the droplets of water that were making a path down your back.

"Hope I'm not intruding?", Cobb asks, as he meanders over. He waits for you to look at him properly, before he approaches you, so that you're flanked on either side. His hand tugs at the top of your towel, and you let him unravel it to the point where it hits the ground with a wet thump.

Their attention is heady, as you listen to both of their breath stutter out in sync. The Mandalorian's hand falls down to palm your breast, as Cobb presses the long line of his body up against your back. It's too much and not enough all at once, as your fingers search for somewhere to shelter under Mando's armoured front.

Cobb seizes on your distraction to leave a trail of hot kisses up the arch of your neck, hands settling firmly on your waist. You fall apart between the two of them, like a wave crashing against the rocks. If it wasn't for their tight grip, you weren't sure you would have been able to keep steady.

"I'm feeling a little underdressed", you gasp, purposely directing the words over your shoulder to Cobb. You see a flash of white teeth from the corner of your eyes. You lean into Mando, as you both watch him peel his shirt off over his head. His torso is just as lean as you remember, and you lick your lips as you watch the play of muscles across his stomach.

"Keep going". This time it's the Mandalorian, and you stiffen slightly in surprise as the words rasp past your shoulder. The two seemed locked in a silent staring contest, as his arm snakes around your waist, pulling you firmly against his chest. It should be uncomfortable, but the armour is almost soothing against your feverish skin.

Whatever Cobb sees, he continues to undress. You watch with apt fascination, as he deftly unlaces the strings of his pants and let's them pool down his legs. The confident grin is back on his face, as he cheekily kicks his boots off, discarding his pants along with them.

He stands before you both, seemingly at ease with his nudity. You can't help but grin in response, as you squeeze the Mandalorian's arm where it rests around your hips. "What do you think, Mandalorian?".

"I think he's good at following orders, but what about you?".

"I think he did a pretty decent job".

You gasp in surprise as you're suddenly spun around, hands scrambling to grasp his shoulders as his helmet looms into your vision. "I mean, how good are you at following orders?".

"I don't know", you reply, hearing how breathless you sound but not caring the slightest, "I think you'll have to test it out".

"With pleasure", he purrs.

And then he steps away. You lurch half a step forward after him, but quickly stop when he tilts his helmet consideringly at you. You let your hand fall uselessly to your side, as you watch him sit on the edge of your bed. He kicks one ankle over the other, and leans back on hands as he surveys at you both. You notice Cobb makes no move to creep closer to you, both frozen under the Mandalorian's intense gaze.

"I want you to suck him off and I want to watch".

You nod eagerly in return, as you turn towards the Marshal. Cobb looks surprised as he glances at you but he allows you to grasp his hand and pull him closer. The ground is cold and rough underneath your knees, as you let yourself sink down in front of him. It's a heady feeling, as you run your hands up the length of his thighs, feeling the muscles tense and jump under your gentle touch. Cobb stares down at you reverently, but a filthy grin spreads across his face as your eyes lock again.

You don't bother teasing him, as you grasp him in your hand. The skin is velvet soft and already hard beneath your fingers, as you trail your grip across the length of him. Wasting no time, you take him into your mouth. You're gratified when Cobb drops a hand to steady himself on your shoulder, clenching in time with each bob of your head. You take him as far as you can, squeezing your eyes shut as he hits the back of our throat.

You pull off with a choke, taking him back into your hand as you try to catch your breath. You catch his eyes again, both grinning in tandem. Keeping your eyes locked on his, you bend down to mouth at his balls, muffing laughter as at hand on your shoulder flies up to cup the back of your head. Looks like he still likes that, you thought smugly.

You had almost forgotten about your advance, but the subtle shift of metal draws your attention away again.

The Mandalorian looks unperturbed and untouchable as before, except you can see controlled rise and fall of his chest. Deciding to see how far you can push him, you slide Cobb into the back of your throat, keeping your eyes locked on his impenetrable visor. You can't help but note the way his fists clench against your bedspread with a smug satisfaction. Looks like he wasn't as cool as he wanted to portray.

It also looks he wasn't the only one, as you feel Cobb's hand clench in your hair. His teeth are clenched in his bottom lip, and you can tell he's trying hard not to thrust into the heat of your mouth. You realize suddenly, that's he on his best behaviour and not just for you either.

"Want him to finish in my mouth?", you ask breathlessly, glancing between the two.

The Mandalorian takes a moment to reply, and his voice sounds rougher when he finally does speak. "Both of you, get onto the bed".

You scramble to obey him, as you climb up after the Mandalorian. You feel like a hunter trailing after it's prey, as he settles against the head of your bed and you crawl after him. Cobb isn't far behind you, though he doesn't make a show of it the way you do.

The Mandalorian has planted himself in the centre of your bed, and after a moment of hesitation, both you and Cobb settle on either side of him. You paw restlessly at his thigh, and you notice Cobb wants to do the same, if the fists clenched by his own thigh are anything to go by.

"You want him to fuck you?", Mando asks, jerking his head towards the Marshal. You're not sure who's gasp is loudest, as the Mandalorian's ungloved hand grasps Cobb's cock and gives it a sure stroke. You have to stop yourself from jumping the two, as you watch Cobb cling to the others arm, forehead falling to rest against his pauldron.

"How do you want me?", you ask, too excited by the possibilities that flash through your mind.

"Hands and knees in front of me".

You scramble to obey, setting your hands on either side of his spread thighs to steady yourself. The Mandalorian seems reluctant to let go of the other man, but eventually he lets up his grip and gestures the other man behind you.

You're practically panting, as you wait for Cobb to enter you. Your hands are tense around the Mandalorian's knees, as you feel him brush teasingly along the length of you. You have to bite your lip, to stop yourself from begging as you look at the Mandalorian in front of you.

You can feel the plea forming, but it quickly falls away as Cobb thrusts inside of you in one quick stroke. Your head falls into Mando's lap, as the Marshal starts to thrust into you, fingers digging into the sensitive skin on your hips. You bite the meat of your arm, to stop the nonsense pouring from your lips. Your eyes well up at the dual sensations.

You're startled when the Mandalorian cups your cheek, and raises your head to meet his gaze. He gently brushes the wet strands of hair from your tear stricken face, as his thumb brushes over your bottom lip. Your tongue flickers out in response, as your mouth wraps around the appendage. His grip tightens to just the right side of painful for a moment before he releases you and starts to unclasp the belts around his waist.

Your hands scrabble to help him, though your clumsy fingers are probably more of a deterrent than anything else. He's barely finished releasing himself from the confines of his flight suit, before you bury him into the back of your mouth. Both of his hands fall to grip your hair, as he curls around you with a curse that resounds inside his helmet.

You slide back and forth with each thrust of Cobb's hips, keeping your mouth slack on the Mandalorian's cock. You sneak your fingers under the edge of his clothes, digging your thumbs into the warm skin under his hip bones, and he lets you as his helmet tips back against the head of your bed.

"Kriffin' hell", Cobb moans, as he ruts into you with increasingly sloppier thrusts. It's maddening and the best thing you've ever felt, as you they fill you from both ends. You don't know how you've managed so long without this.

You can feel the moment Cobb tips over the edge, as he goes to pull away. You throw a blind hand back to grasp his wrist as you chase your own release, seating his cock back inside you. It's the only encouragement he needs, as his grip on your hips becomes ironclad, and he grinds himself inside of you. You both come apart together.

The sight of you both coming seems to do it for the Mandalorian, as he freezes above you, hands tightening against the back of your skull. You take him as far into the back of your throat as you can, as he fills your willing mouth.

You hold him through the after tremors, pulling off with a last suck as you swallow all of his seed.

The moment Cobb pulls out, you collapse onto the bed like a puppet without strings. You have barely enough energy to wrap your hands around the Mandalorian's waist, as you bury your face into the crux of his thigh. You huff out a laugh, as you feel Cobb slap your thigh companionably, as he collapses in parallel beside you.

A comfortable silence descends over all three of you, as you try to catch your breath. You can't help but purr as a hand settles into your hair again, blunt nails digging smoothly into your scalp. One eye peered open allows you to see it's the Mandalorian's hand, and that Cobb is receiving a similar treatment beside you.

You wonder if you could convince them to fuck, during the next round. It was a challenge you were up for you decided, as you snuggled further into your new armoured companion. But later on.

[marshmallowprotection]

do you do requests? if so, saeran, seven, and v's reaction to a male mc that seems very caring and understanding but is goth af, listens to heavy metal, and likes to collect creepy/cursed things in his spare time.

This MC is just Mod Haruka. Anon, are you aware that you’re basically describing my fiance? He couldn’t stop laughing when I told him this popped into the askbox. - Mod Kait. 

Saeran

Saeran is the man that will vibe with you like nobody else. 

He can't judge a book by it's cover because if he did that, he would be dooming himself to the very same fate. He's always been more lured to the darker, and gloomier side of things. If he had a choice, then he would be dressed in muted tones and in all black. He's not really going to put a lot of work into it, either. If he likes it, he slaps it on and that's nice.

That's not to say that he's totally what we all consider a true goth, though. He's just a very minimalist type who aims to blend into the big darkness. Just leave it to simple black sweaters or turtlenecks. He'll pop in the spikes and the collars and the chokers just for kicks when he feels like it. Just depends. He just likes the style and the aesthetic but that doesn't invalidate him. It's the thing that he used to freely separate himself from the rest of the damned cult.

So, he takes one look at this MC and he’s like, okay, I can vibe with this. It wasn’t what he expected but there’s not a problem in the world with that one, nope, he’s more than happy to be close to somebody that gets his aesthetic really good. 

You two have a lot in common from the surface, but there are some subtle differences on the inside that separate you. Saeran is hard on the outside but soft on the inside. He’s got more domestic hobbies and he really doesn’t listen to music. Whereas you’ve got a grungey vibe and enjoy the finer things in life, meaning the macabre and the fun. 

Yet, one glance at the two of you in public leaves people left to assume that you’re both just the same kind of grungey punks. 

Saeran is intrigued though by some of your hobbies. He’s always wanted to get more into supernatural things. He’s always an inkling of something inside of him but he’s never had the time to get to learning. He likes to learn and you’ve got a lot of things in your collection and disposal that he’s never seen before, and a lot of info that he didn’t know where to start from. He likes you to listen to you fixate and talk about your interests. Everybody else in the room may be cringing or looking away because the two of you get rather involved in your discussions and those with weak stomachs just can’t seem to cut it. 

He’s rather infatuated from the start. Saeran loves your vibe and makes no qualms about it. He’s got the same style. Though, sometimes he may like your jacket a bit too much and borrow it from you. There’s a lot of mixing and matching going on in this household with your shared wardrobe. 

Seven

Seven is a man of wild colors and bright patterns who looks like he walked right into the zany era of pop art color and crawled right back out of it to look like a vibrant hot mess discounted Ronald McDonald and somehow make it look really dope as hell. Seven has found something that works for him but he doesn't really have a set style that defines him apart from the mishmash he made for himself. He can put on anything and feel right at home in it without any worries. He's never had the option to have picky tastes so he's never really thought about it.

He's okay with anything. 

He really doesn't think hard. His life is a lot like his personal choices, a big swirling pot of outcomes that don't seem to twine just right yet somehow the puzzle pieces smash together. 

He takes one look at this MC from the CCTV and he’s a bit stumped. You’ve got such a cute face and you’re got an aesthetic that he hardly ever sees. Seven is unsure of how to approach you. He assumes at first that your tone and attitude may be more surly. Then, he talks to you on the phone for the first time and oh, oh my God, you’re the nicest and sweetest person that he’s ever spoken to in his life, and your laugh is enough to steal his soul.

You’ve just got interests that are a little different from everybody. He likes to cozy up to you, and when he stops being such a butthead, he takes every opportunity to get hugs from you. Everybody assumes right off the bat that you’re the one that they should fear crossing but it’s the other way around. The goofball is the one that has all the power and you’re such a sweetie. It’s kind of hilarious when you’re together because you’re always turning heads. 

Seven doesn’t mind that attention when it comes to turning heads. He’ll get more involved in your style when he gets closer to you, and he’ll often time ask you for your opinion on what he would look best in. There’s a lot of fashion shows in his closet when he’s just jumping in and out to try and enthrall you. He’ll playfully mess with you by borrowing your clothes, but he’ll make it even by tossing his jacket at you. 

He’s got his own weird fixations. He makes robots and AI for fun, just for the hell of it. So, he really doesn’t say much about what you like. He can be a little superstitious and uneasy around the supernatural but as long as you carefully reassure him when those are involved then he’s not bothered. 

He does like to listen to you talk about the cursed things that you own. He often ponders how things can get so cursed over time and if you two could find something modern that’s haunted. 

That’s kooky hijinks!  

V

V is also a big minimalist. 

In all parts of his life, he tends to keep things simple and not overbearing. He just thinks that things have order and he feels better when he knows where all the items are and there isn’t too much overbearing clutter to bother him with clutter. There isn't much he wants or desires and he keeps things neat and tidy. Be it from the way he keeps his house from looking any more than a spick and span museum, or the way that he tries

He tends not to think too much overall about the style choices he wears. 

V hasn't really changed his ways ever since he was a kid, the same could have been said for Jumin. He's got a simple but very relaxed look that he wears and it's nothing overall too flashy or too noticeable compared to the part around him. He's never really given it much thought and he just sticks to what feels okay to him and that's pretty much that. He’s just a simple man who doesn’t think too hard about the way he looks. 

Now, he comes to learn rather fast that not everyone is like that. You’ve got a style about you that he’s never really come across. He knows plenty of artists and photographers that have a personal brand of style, but he’s not had the chance to be around those that have a style like yours. So, he’s intrigued by your choice. He would be one of those to be unsure momentarily of you but wouldn’t show that on his face. He’s too polite for that. 

V comes to really appreciate you. You’ve got an energy that is somehow both comforting and imposing. You can draw people into you and you can keep those that you don’t like at bay. He’s always had nervous energy around others but when he’s with you, he finally doesn’t even think about that. He can just hold your hand and breathe in a sigh of relief. You even get him to think harder in appreciation of more colors that he’s never really considered. 

Being an artist, he’s always looking for that next sense of wonder, and you’ve captivated him like nothing else ever has in this world. You’re tough but you’re delicate, you’re sweet but you’re macabre, etc. He often compliments you very sincerely when you look like you’re radiating confidence. He sees that you feel more at ease in muted tones, and in ripped jeans. He may not get it himself but he loves that you’ve found something that works for you. 

V has really only ever been invested in the music that his mother held dear to her heart. Apart from that, he’s never gotten too in touch with it. You give him the chance to look into other avenues and find other messages in it. He’ll actually be really into it, believe it or not. Does that mean there’s death metal at the house? Yes, yes it does. 

He’s also kind of odd when it comes to hobbies. So, he really doesn’t judge you for what you’re invested in. He’ll listen to you give the story and history behind what you’ve got in your hands and he’ll nod mindfully. It’s important to you so that means that it’s important to him. He likes to learn and understand more about how you see the world and find beauty in places nobody else looks. 

[transformers-extrication]

Seaspray’s anniversary

Words: 3,129 It’s a special day for Seaspray! Many cheerful memories to be had!... Many... memories...

The Ark’s internal chronometer, adapted to the Earth's cycle, alerted it’s crew to the dawn steadily encroaching their world. A sound beyond human hearing thrummed away in the rooms of those who had not been on any sort of night-guard, rousing their sleeping systems up from a well-earned rest. If you listened carefully you could probably hear the creaks and groans of stiff metal and fibre stretching as various bots got up from their rest and eased their systems into motion. A loud thud echoed from one room as a body hit the floor with unnecessary force. Seaspray was too excited to care that he’d flopped out of bed so unceremoniously, forgetting to put his arms out to cushion the fall. It was a brilliant day for him, as it was every other time this date rolled around. In a quick dive-like motion forward Seaspray flattened his body and pushed with his arms, sending him into a controlled slide across the smooth metal, the automatic door opening for him and letting him out to the Ark’s hallways. Using his arms and short legs Seaspray avoided a head-on collision with any walls and slipped between his fellow Autobots as carefully as possible, disgruntled growls from Ironhide were easily shrugged off. Jazz had organised a schedule for various mechs and Seaspray had already had a lengthy chat with the relaxed senior officer who had been more than fine with allowing the aquatic mech some time off, at least enough to cover the day, something Seaspray always tried to do for this day with varied success (usually depending on who he spoke to, of course). Regardless, he still put aside some time for it no matter his schedule. Getting to the Arks entrance was easy, getting outside wasn’t so. Earth’s surface was so varied and changed on a dime or was a mishmash of textures and bumps. It wasn’t as if Seaspray couldn’t get about on Earth it was just that it felt odd and was often a bit jarring if he was just zooming out the Ark without a care in the universe. Regardless, pushing up with his flat, spread legs along with his arms he moved quicker across Earth's surface in an ungainly looking waddle.

---------------- “Hey! You lookin’ a bit nervous there!” Seaspray jumped with the sudden sound and jerked his head around to the beach. The time was far, far in the distant past, Cybertron was still… alive and bustling. The sun was high in it’s peak of the current solar cycle, and on the beach a very young charcoal-coloured mech lay, optics staring at Seaspray. Equally as young as the tiny figure gazing at him with the type of curiosity only younglings had Seaspray sunk into the water a little bit before mumbling. “N… nothing...” “M’ names Coldseep! I live near here!” The other child seemed somewhat oblivious to Seaspray’s shyness, “Haven’t seen you around before is all!” they chirped. ‘Oh’ Seaspray thought, this was one of those moments his parental units told him about, one where he should really speak up. “I’m Seaspray… I, uh, we just moved here… recently…” He barely emerged from the water anymore, just a pair of optics above its surface. Coldseep immediately burst into excited squeals and thrashed his way into the water, coming to a halt s short distance away from Seaspray, arms in the air. “YAY! New friend! We can see each other every day!” Coldseep practically bobbed up and down in his excitement. Seaspray, however, wasn’t quite at his level of excitement. “I… I dunno” He muttered back, rising out the water a little more, “I live on the water-side… I’m more of a sea-mech” “Oh! Tha’s okay! I’m a submaran! Marin! Dangit!” Coldseep fumbled over his words with a frown deepening on his face plates. “A… A submarine? You’re a Submarine?” Seaspray rose up a bit more, daring to get closer to examine him with a curious optic. “YEAH! Tha’s it! I always mess up the end bit!” Coldseep’s grin could’ve split his face apart. -------------- In the present Seaspray had slowed down to a very slow amble only pausing slightly to watch his own hand press into some sand and sink down. Feeling the loose grains softly envelop his digits before slowly pulling it away and looking fondly at the imprint he left behind. --------------- A much smaller imprint was left in the sands of a newly local shore. Since meeting him Coldseep had come to see Seaspray every day, he was indeed a submarine and joyfully accompanied Seaspray on several swimming excursions. Coldseep would always claim he could make a bubble-ring simply by swimming in a circle fast enough. He never did and would just throw off his balance, even underwater, it was fun though Seaspray often giggled at this antic and promised he’d swim rings inside the bubble when he made it!. Seaspray would point out various local sea life and promised to one day help Coldseep find and see a Warwhale! The two spent so much of their time swimming that it was like a cold slap to the face when Coldseep bounded onto the beach after a dive and ran around, somehow still having the energy to after all their underwater antics. Seaspray came out of the water, but only halfway. “Hey!” Coldseep snapped him out of his moment of silence, “You should come to my place! I can show you some cool shells I found!” “Uh” Seaspray retreated back an inch becoming worried. “Eh? Wha’s wrong? D… don’t you wanna come over?” Coldseep caught his nervous tone and promptly deflated. “No! No! I do!” Seaspray panicked, he didn’t want to upset his first friend of his ‘new life’, or at least that’s what his parental units called it, “I just… I just can’t get out the water…” “Whaaaaaaaaat! Of course you can silly!” Coldseep’s manner flipped like a switch and he returned to grinning. “It’s true! Well, I can barely move when out the water… I hate it… and… and I have to go to the education centre here when it’s b-back open” Seaspray started to sniffle, “An I, I gotta go an… and it’s on land… I don’t” Seaspray flopped to the ground and covered his face, “I’m gonna be a freak! Everyone will laugh!” A long silence ensued between the two children. Seaspray couldn’t bring himself to uncover his face, it only became harder when a weight suddenly pressed upon him. “You’re forgettin’ I go there too! I’ll fight anyone who says meanie-aft things about you! They know I will! It’s how I got sent to the nurse with a bent rotor once!” Coldseep announced with a loud pride that made Seaspray uncurl a little, mostly out of shock at his volume. “Th… thank you” Was all Seaspray could whisper through the tail end of his sniffles. There was a brief silence again. Only this time it got broken by a scream as Coldseep gripped Seaspray’s sides and yanked him out of the water and onto land. Coldseep bellowed with laughter as Seaspray flopped about in a panic trying to get a footing but only wiggling his rear fruitlessly. It took a few more astroseconds of laughter before Coldseep got up and grabbed onto Seaspray. “Hold on buddy, hold on!” Seaspray responded to his words by wrapping his arms around Coldseep’s, “There, not so bad now!”. Seaspray whimpered only just opening his optics to peer around him. “I bet I can help you walk on land just fine! I also totally bet an awesome tub of Energon ice cream that I could even get you running on land too!” Coldseep announced. ---------------- Just like him, brash and loud. Never stood down when he knew he could push on. Seaspray sighed as he clambered over some rocks, nearing the Ocean. He could distinctly remember Coldseep holding his middle and helping him work on his locomotion above water. It still wasn’t graceful but he was able to move on-land with little issue, Seaspray chuckled to himself remembering when the weather turned colder. The ground had gone icy and more compact in various areas, Coldseep had hidden away behind a rock, only to rush him and push him, causing him to slide along the ground. Seaspray allowed himself to let out an actual chuckle, remembering how they had spent entire days sliding around on ice, reaching high speeds, Coldseep often riding on Seasprays back as they whizzed up and down. Tactics he still used to this day, they never failed him. ---------------- The learning room hushed as the one designated to oversee their communal learning held an arm out, presenting another youngster that was to be added to their sector. “This” they announced, “Is Depth Charge. I want you all to welcome them here and make them comfortable”. Depth Charge had blues and purples across his frame and gold accents, yet his red optics scoured the class with cold anger, many of the others in the class avoided their gaze. Coldseep looked over at Seaspray with a cocked optical ridge. “What a nerd” He whispered. “Wha! What do you mean?” Seaspray kept his head ducked down glancing at Coldseep and back to the rest of the room, “He’s scary!” “Nope!” Coldseep grinned, “Watch” The teaching section of the day went quietly, no one really wanted to interact with the angry-looking new kid, but it came to the ‘free’ section of the day. Building bonds with your fellow mech was always a promoted activity, so a good amount of free time to talk and strengthen your social connections even at such a young age was encouraged. Cybertronians are quite social afterall. Coldseep nearly had to drag Seaspray with him to the corner of the yard where Depth Charge sat glaring at everything, but mostly his own pedes. With one last drag Coldseep dropped Seaspray, letting him scuttle behind him to put some distance between himself and the new guy. “Whas’sup nerd?” Coldseep had his hands on his hips and another one of his big grins on his face. “What do you want?” Depth Charge snapped back his optics darting away from the pair so quick they probably should’ve fallen out. “Seaspray here says he’s gonna show me a Warwhale one day!” Coldseep made a slight move to show off the nervously shuffling mech behind him. Depth Charge slowly turned his head around to look at the pair giving a look up and down between the two. “That’s dumb” he grunted, “They don’t live remotely near our waters” “HAH! KNEW IT!” Coldseep suddenly jumped, pointing a triumphant finger at Depth Charge. In response Depth Charge shuffled back and tensed up. “You don’t know anything!” He snapped back. “You’re a neeeeerd” Coldseep lilted, “One of us!” He changed to a chant, “One of us! One of us!” Depth Charge continued to shrink back optics snapping in different directions as if searching for a way out. Seaspray finally managed to pull himself from behind his friend, realising the motion of distress. Closer to him Seaspray had a better view of the panels that spread from Depth Charge’s back. “You’re an aquatic mech too” He uttered. “SO!?” Depth Charge finally snapped his optics down, “Just what my family unit are!” He hissed. “Uh, duh!” Coldseep stopped cheering to roll his optics “So are we! Dum-dum!” A silence fell over their corner and Depth Charge finally seemed to look up and truly take in the pair that stood before him. “Our lot know a lot about sea-stuff! You just have a grumpy face! Plus this is a coastal place!” Coldseep beamed, “Seaspray moved here too! Better suited for us!” Depth Charge seemed to soften up a little bit, which was good because if he got any tenser he looked like he might’ve snapped a few muscle fibres. “Y-yeah” He stammered, “Better than Vos...” “WHOA! You came here all the way from Vos!?” Coldseep immediately glued himself to Depth Charge’s side sitting obnoxiously close to him, “Fliers live there! What was it like? Why’d you move? Isn’t that place super cool!?” Seaspray also moved in, but slower, hoping to appear more normal and less in-your-face than Coldseep who had clearly startled Depth Charge. ------------------------ Seaspray remained perched on a rock looking out at the section of the beach, taking in the salty wind that washed over him. So different from Cybertron, yet, it made him feel more at home. The memories that washed over him with an equally constant flow, his circuits tingled with surges of nostalgia. Depth Charge had moved from Vos due to an altercation at his other learning facility. Apparently he got into frequent trouble with a trio of Seekerlings that also attended that place, he didn’t know their names merely referred to them by colour. The blue one was the oldest, and thought it was funny that he couldn’t fly, only ‘fly’ in water, the red one was the worst, often making snide comments yet able to twist situations to cover his own back, probably, Depth Charge had claimed, to ‘cover’ for how short he was. The purple one was an idiot but tagged along anyway. He’d spotted them teasing another student and tried to defend them, but it didn’t work out and Depth Charge was kicked out for his behaviour. He always lamented not being able to help or protect the other student. “Hmph” Seaspray mused, that was just like Depth Charge. Depth Charge who stood up for them when someone mocked Coldseep’s lively attitude, or Seasprays own awkward gait. The trio almost never left each others side, they were as the humans say ‘thick as thieves’ despite no thievery taking place. It was even Coldseeps idea… he was the one who named them the ‘Sea Seekers’ a trine of the best sea-fairing mechs Cybertron will ever see, or so he’d claim. They were all into it, Depth Charge in his awkward manner had decided to take this as a cue to announce how he’d protect them with his life. Guess that was his way of showing how thankful he was to have them. Protecting others… Seaspray allowed himself a sad flop onto the sand below. Depth Charge always took it personally when he couldn’t defend others… Probably why he was given charge of a peaceful sector that’d refused to take part in the war. Then Rampage came along… The Decepticons unleashed that… thing upon all of Cybertron. It had slaughtered anything in his path… Seaspray curled in slightly, remembering the look on Depth Charge’s face… how hollow he’d become, a hollowness that became filled with hate. He was like a different mech, he scared Seaspray now. Yet, Seaspray refused to leave him they were a trine! Despite Coldseep… they weren’t going to lose each other. They already lost Coldseep, he followed the Decepticons lead. It was odd, Coldseep almost seemed to change into a different mech more and more each time he snuck out to meet them. He’d begged Seaspray and Depth Charge to join him. That Megatron promised to make Cybertron equal for everyone!. It was like Coldseep couldn’t see how Megatron was just taking everything for himself, and merely lived in a fantasy world where all of Megatron's lies were true. It almost broke him when he finally agreed that Megatron wasn’t acting right, he said he was going to leave… he said… It didn’t matter now… Seaspray dragged himself upright and slowly to the Ocean’s edge, the light glittering off it’s surface turning bitter in his mind, churning up bad memories. He tried, oh how he tried, he tried keeping up with Depth Charge after the ‘incident’ but he couldn’t. Depth Charge went to ridiculous lengths to fulfil his desire to fight Rampage. He punched Seaspray when the latter suggested he stop hunting him. Seaspray sucked it up, Depth Charge wouldn’t abandon him if he was in his place! He’d wait until the time was right, until they were ready to accept the help then stand by them all the way! He was all Seaspray had left… his last friend. Then they found Rampage, his trail of destruction easier to follow than initially believed. The fight lasted for barely a few astroseconds, Rampage was too strong for a battalion let alone these two mechs. Depth Charge said he had a plan. Depth Charge told Seaspray to get a head start and he’d join him. Depth Charge lied. Seaspray looked into his reflection in the Ocean, his optics were getting as watery as it’s surface. It was too late. Seaspray didn’t know. Depth Charge had stolen the Energon Destroyer, made by the late scientist Rhinox. He’d taken it and charged Rampage with it. Seaspray didn’t have a chance to react as a Autobot team grabbed him and rushed him away, having discovered the weapon was missing they took Seaspray and fled from the blast. It was like an explosion, but in reverse. The ground broke off in chunks, rising into the air as it crumbled. It was as beautiful as it was vile, the aim of that weapon… horrid. It did its job. Rampage was gone. So was Depth Charge. All that remained was a crater. Tainted by the blast, no life would EVER return to it after such an action. And like that… Seaspray was alone… The water made a quiet sound and Seaspray broke from his minor trance, tears streaking down his face and dropping into the sea. “I miss you guys” he sniffled, lying down and letting the water lap over him and around him. If he pretended hard enough it was as if the two were there, beside him. On the anniversary of them becoming a Trine. --------- Several miles down the beach, a dark and stealthy shape prowled along, looking to the water with a deep longing, yet painful apprehension. Ravage was a Decepticon and never allowed himself to be taken by emotion. Megatron wouldn’t allow that, be it by words, fist or the end of his cannon he would not allow it. Ravage had to be far away from his leader for this… curious emotion to thrum through his damaged Spark with no repercussion. Looking across the landscape he spotted a yellow figure, also at the water's edge. The enemy. THE ENEMY!. Ravage cringed hard, his face plates bunching up as he forced down the raging senseless anger that arose everytime an Autobot neared him. That one. That one was okay. Ravage didn’t know why, but that yellow one was okay. Ravage also had no idea why he felt the compulsion to be here today. Just that for him it held some sort of significance. Settling down to rest Ravage nosed the water, and ignoring the tear that rolled down his face.

[purkinje-effect]

The Purkinje Effect, 35

Table of Contents. Go to previous. Go to next. Hey holy shit hello you are at Park Street Station and I am begging your patience. At this point we have found a vault we do not want and a lack of cooperation we do not want and no information useful to solving what’s wrong with Vault 82 and we’ve been waiting nine eighteen months for an update.

____________________

The pocket door opened. Before Valentine and Geek lay twenty bodies or more. At the center of the carnage, blood-spattered and spaced out, stood a heavyset man in a black tuxedo and fedora, and a tall lean dark-haired woman in a dove grey sequin evening gown, respectively each wielding a submachine gun and a baseball bat. Angel, the mishmash Mister Handy, had gotten involved in the fray, and hovered at a close distance drenched in blood.

Hancock and ‘Choly are in the middle of that pile, Geek panicked, putting his knuckledusters back on. The fuck happened, that these two mowed down their entire outfit?

The mobsters seemed to be sizing up the odds of overcoming the robot. Before Valentine and Geek could act on their hunch that the’d have to somehow overcome Skinny Malone and Darla themselves, ‘Choly came out from behind some shipping crates with an utter nonchalance, hobbling toward the two mobsters with his cane at a cool pace. He’d slung his rifle over his back, and instead drawn an odd-looking suppressed revolver from the gun harness hidden beneath his white vest. But, he holstered it as he approached Skinny and Darla. If they’d seemed pleased with their job well done, ‘Choly appeared to have shot over the moon.

The chemist was shorter than either of them, and tilted up on his toes to whisper in their ears. Even before he came back on his heels, they had started out of the vault at a full sprint. He clapped his gloves together in delight, transfixed in bliss, and he started to double back to his hiding place, only to stop short.

“Not another step closer.” Hancock cocked his shotgun and steadied it over the top of the crates at ‘Choly. “The fuck was in that dart gun. Why did they do that!”

Valentine and Geek stay frozen in the doorway, still bewildered by the situation. The pink ghoul couldn’t find relief just yet, beyond knowing his companion had survived. 'Choly had not yet noticed their presence, but Hancock had. The ghoul in road leathers only made eye contact with them long enough to communicate with them his dread, before playing it off that he’d been eyeing Angel.

‘Choly crumpled and put up his hands, exasperated.

“But I took care of them for us, didn’t I? Why’s it matter how! Just when I started to think I was doing everything right for once, and now I feel like I’m back to scratch with you. What’s it going to take to win you over? What’s that Pink Plymouth got that I don’t?”

“Don’t make me compare you n’ him. Not fair t’either of you.”

“Mister Carey is right to ask what you believe he did wrong!” Angel approached the chemist and ghoul with the intent to get involved. “Everyone is safe. I’m the only one who’s got any dings or scratches, last I checked. The only mistake I calculate he might’ve made in your eyes is he let those last two criminals live!”

Hancock didn’t budge, his eyes locked on ‘Choly. “Stand down, Angel.”

Its ocular lenses swiveled to its owner.

“Sir?”

“Of course!” ‘Choly teetered on awkward laughter from the stress. “It’s all just a lot of words. Isn’t that right, Hancock? I’m out of bullets, and those were my last three Sweet Nothings. The good mayor wouldn’t fire on an unarmed man, would he?”

Geek squared up his stance, ready to rush the chemist.

“I don’t know about him, but ME--”

He came unstuck, only to meet Valentine’s outstretched arm. The synth wasn’t strong enough to hold back the pink ghoul with just one limb, but the gesture grounded him just enough to get his attention. All the while, he heaved in place.

“If you value your limbs attached, you’ll stay put. That cannibal bluebird will put itself between you and its owner before you can land even one punch.” Valentine cocked the .44 and aimed it at ‘Choly with both hands. “But my aim’s decent enough, I could definitely get a shot in.”

“Geek!” ‘Choly squeaked, jerking to look their way. His wide eyes darted between the two men across the room. “Oh--! You got the door open!”

Geek snarled.

“If I gotta crush that tin can--”

“Woah, woah, woah! Fellas, ease off.” Hancock stood, easing up his grip on the shotgun just a bit. “We’re just. We’re just talkin’. Like he says.”

“Still say fists speak louder’n muzzles. Fuckin’ creep.” Geek scowled at ‘Choly, who stared back with a slighted intensity. “What’s to talk about, then?”

“Seems the Scollay Square Swain’s embroiled in a bit of a love triangle. Par for the course.” Valentine’s cigarette bobbed loose on his lip. He pocketed the gun, hoping Hancock would stand down too. “Thanks for bringing an entourage to bust me out, Hancock.”

Before Hancock could reply, Geek put his hands to the patch of fence on his face. Stuttering, he pointed insistently at Valentine with an awful wide-eyed frown.

“HE WAS LIKE THAT WHEN I FOUND HIM, I SWEAR IT.”

The cigarette fell from Valentine’s mouth, and he blinked. It took him a moment to process the implication there’d ever been a risk of his being eaten. The comprehension sublimated into a sharp barking laugh. Geek let out a tepid chuckle.

“No cannibalizing this bucket of bolts today. Guess we should be proud of ya for good behavior.” Valentine shepherded the conversation back to Skinny and Darla, pointing in the direction they’d vanished off to. “Care to explain what happened here? You tell ‘em they left the oven on or something?”

“You could say that.” ‘Choly resumed leaning into his cane. “They’ll probably run for a good thirty minutes before Nothing wears off... By then, they’ll be so exhausted and dehydrated that they won’t know where they even ended up.”

“You always had that stuff?” Aghast, Geek’s face slacked. “That shit sure as hell ain’t nothin’.”

“We were cornered in, and I’m out of bullets. And darts now, too. I didn’t feel like we had another choice. There were too many of them for Angel to take care of on its own.” ‘Choly sniffed, stiffening even further. “It’s only got a serial number formally, but I’ve been calling it Sweet Nothing. For, ah, the whispering thing. Synthesizing it is almost impossible. It takes a patent precursor from the-- from a military base. I. I have to ration them.” The color washed from his glistening face as he described it. “Before you ask, yes. I used my last three of them.”

Geek started pacing and worked on inhaling his flatware stash. Valentine shifted in place, watching ‘Choly. The chemist buttoned back up, produced a handkerchief, and removed his glasses long enough to wipe his face.

“Before he started running with Darla, I would’ve sworn up and down neither of ‘em deserved to be on the receiving end like that. Some people should never meet. They brought out the absolute worst in each other.”

“You’re one of the only people with enough history with that lunkhead to defend him,” Hancock ribbed. He let out a low whistle and dropped his rifle to his side finally. “That stuff’s gotta have one helluva hangover when it wears off.”

“Can we... walk and talk?” Valentine pressed. “This place’s given me the worst case of cabin fever.”

The two ghouls and synth agreed and started back the way they’d all come, with Valentine leading the way. Angel addressed ‘Choly before he could question the others’ feelings regarding the mobsters.

“Come along, Mister Carey. Can’t let them get too far ahead of us.”

The chemist relented and mounted. He kept his mouth shut, acting closed off from the group. Nick tapped his fedora brim up at ‘Choly.

“The name’s Valentine, by the way.”

“Melancholy. I’m sorry. This is nothing like I expected.”

“I think Hancock’s the only one of us expected anything close t’what happened here,” Geek muttered, in an attempt to deflect any sense of alienation off Nick.

The pink ghoul continued slipping flatware through the gaps in the muzzle.

“You’re still mad. I get that. But look!” Hancock walked backward to face them, and flourished his arms outreached to them, grinning encouragingly. “It was a fantastic idea that we split up. Took way less than an hour. Can you imagine if we’d all gone down that elevator shaft and gotten surprised by Skinny’s lot? Hoo boy! Sure surprised him!”

“Some trust exercise this turned out to be.” Geek zipped up. He patted at his chest with an unconscious thoughtfulness, having fallen behind everybody. “I wanna come back down here, with some muscle an’ extra hands. Accidental or no, stuff from at least half a dozen other vaults got shipped here instead. Includin’ 82. You remember the invoice at Vault-Tec HQ, John? Two gardening kits? One of ‘em’s down there in the cafeteria, still in the crate. Other one might be, too.”

“Done and done! I’ll bring some of the Neighborhood Watch down here, tote it back to Goodneighbor. We can crack it open, take a look at it. See what they intended to ship out.”

“What’s so important about some gardening kit?” ‘Choly barely shoved down an acrimonious whine. “Mine didn’t have any plants in it, living or dead.”

“Vault-Tec typically set up each location with its own sustainable food sources,” Valentine explained. “Any vault that saw continued use longer than the experiment’s intended course either had to continue relying on those same indoor farms to do so, or resign to trading with outsiders. Vault produce is some of the cleanest and healthiest there is, provided you can broker their trust. Two vaulties whose vaults didn’t have any produce whatsoever, though. That’s mighty curious.” The synth grinned when it clicked for him. “Hancock! You scraped together the help of two vault dwellers to get the vault door open. Color me impressed.”

“I have my moments.” Hancock rolled his shoulder, only to grunt from an injury sustained from the scuffle. “Course, doesn’t hurt two vault dwellers happened to be in Goodneighbor at the same time...”

“Kit wasn’t the only thing I found, though.” Geek pulled one of the Vault 114 Vault Suits from his coveralls and zipped back up. He handed it up to ‘Choly with a shit-eating sneer. “A souvenir, Ruski. Dunno about you, but I’m glad this ain’t the hole I crawled out of.”

“I, yes. Hear hear.”

‘Choly hastily shoved the jumpsuit into Angel’s storage compartment. He tried to spur Angel to go on without the others, but the Mister Handy would not.

“You and I are out of ammunition, Sir. None of us is in any condition to get in further scuffs, especially not alone. We must stick together to protect one another.”

“I, hah. Hah. Yes. Of course. How, how silly of me.”

“Something the matter, Melancholy?” Valentine wondered, dripping with irony.

‘Choly’s mouth became a thin line, and he kept himself and Angel off to the side without straying too far.

“I suppose I just realized I left the oven on.”

The synth murmured, and fell back to walk alongside Geek with a nearly paternal earnest.

“Vault 82, you said. You really are from out of town, aren’t you?”

“Family’s from Providence.” He couldn’t place why, but despite his appetite issues, he felt comfortable conversing with this synth. Though the very notion of the armature beneath the skin of a synth had always nettled him, Nick’s demeanor felt so... real, so easy to talk to. He could understand why Hancock cared whether this individual was safe. “Y’know anything about 82? This year’s my first time above-ground, and only locals seem to know we’re down there tucked inside a state park. Travel sure don’t seem like a leisurely activity anymore. Say. Fenway Park. I remember a sign, a... Valentine’s Detective Agency. You that Valentine?”

“Yours truly. Take it you didn’t travel for leisure?”

“My vault’s got these food dispenser machines. I think they’re fritzin’, ‘cause everybody’s been gettin’ sick. But it’s all we eat, and all we can eat anymore, after two centuries livin’ off the stuff. I figure, with the reason you came down here, that the kinda sleuthin’ you do is mostly missing persons cases. But you mentioned some knowledge regarding vaults. Are you positive no other vaults you know of have food dispensers? They produce a... ration paste. Like a custard, but good for ya.”

“You came all the way out here, looking for a way to save your vault’s population. If you’re not averse to working with a synth detective, I might be able to lend a few circuits. Hopefully turn this into a productive cross-state adventure.”

“Doubt it’d hurt to have a fresh set of eyes on this. Dunno your rates, but--”

Valentine waved him down with a smile.

“...Well, now that I’m free to report back to Darla’s parents what happened, I can close that case... and take on another, if you’d like. I’d even do it pro bono, all things considered. This aims to save lives here. Not to mention, you did just rescue lil’ ol’ me.” Before Geek could say a word, he continued. “Give me some time to catch up in Diamond City. I’ll go through my paperwork, to see if I can’t locate any information that would be useful. Is three days good for you? And I should probably borrow the .44 a little longer, if that’s all right with you. To get home in one piece. I’ll return it when you come visit my office. How’s that sound?”

“I, of course. You bet. Thanks. ...Not t’be difficult, but I’m not allowed back in Diamond City.”

“The ‘no ghouls’ thing isn’t as strictly enforced as you’d think.”

“The ghoul thing’s recent. Like, last week recent. And unrelated. I pissed off one of the merchants and she got me kicked out.”

“I don’t even have to guess. Myrna.”

“YES-- Christ.”

The detective laughed as they took the stairs back up into the station terminal.

“Don’t sweat it. I’ll smooth it all over before you get there. If you’ve met Myrna, you know the Great Green Jewel’s not just anti-ghoul, but anti-synth, too. And I live there. They make exceptions.”

“Nick, you’re a peach.” Hancock grabbed him and pulled him into a tight hug. “I’m glad Skinny’s bunch didn’t rough you up too bad. The Commonwealth would be worse for wear without you in it, man.”

“Most of us want to see good and justice in the world. The only thing that makes me different is, my desire for that’s programmed.”

As they stepped out onto the Common streets again, Hancock patted Valentine on the shoulder.

“Don’t sell yourself short, my friend. We won’t keep you. I know at least three people back in Diamond City alone who’ve probably been worried sick about you for weeks.”

“Sure is great to feel useful and wanted,” ‘Choly snapped. He managed to finally spur Angel onward now that they’d emerged topside. The chemist and robot zipped off toward Goodneighbor.

Nick shot a stern stinkeye his way from under the brim of his hat, but said nothing until he and the robot had vanished around a corner.

“You really know how to pick ‘em some days, Hancock.”

“Give the guy a break. He’s still grappling with a bends-deep case of Rip Van Winkle Syndrome. He’s probably just weirded out by your... you-ness.”

Nick took a little too long to reply, obviously preoccupied.

“I’m going to... take his cue and scram, too. I’ll see you in a few days, kids.”

“Toodles!” Hancock waved to him, and got to walking with Geek.

“Toodles?” Geek rolled his eye at him. “--Ugh, finally.”

He ripped off the muzzle, and poured the open box of Abraxo Powder straight into his mouth.

“I am not going to ask where you got that.”

Go to Next »»»

[nutsdoltsberets]

Basking In The Sun

Fandom: RWBY Rating: Teen Characters: Blake Belladonna, Weiss Schnee, Ruby Rose, Yang Xiao Long No Ships Just Team Fluff Other Tags: Great Weiss Shark AU, Faunus!Weiss, Slice of Life, Beach Vacations Words: 2044 Crossposted to Archive Of Our Own

Inspired by Spudato/ @faunusrights Great Weiss Shark AU They have a Masterpost on their tumblr Faunusrights https://faunusrights.tumblr.com/post/164560451654 Summary: Team RWBY starts off a week of relaxation with a day at the beach.

 Ruby and Yang ran ahead up the small steps towards the old homely looking cabin while Blake and Weiss trailed behind them up the winding dirt road.

 “Are you sure I should have come?” Weiss quietly vents her anxieties toward Blake who trudged along quietly.

 “Of course, did you want to go home to your father for your break?”

 “God no.”

 “Do you think Ruby and Yang would rather we hadn’t come?”

 “Well. No…”

 Weiss attempted to throw up an excuse but Blake quickly silenced her by pressing her finger over Weiss’ lips.

 “Then how about we have some fun. I’m sure it’s been a while since either of us has been on the beach.”

 “Why didn’t you go to visit your family?” Weiss asks cautiously hoping she wasn’t stepping on any kind of landmine.

 “Ships to Menagerie are expensive” Blake simply shrugged and Weiss relaxed a bit.

 “Hey you two!” Ruby calls from the open door. “Hurry up! Let’s get changed so we can hit the water!”

 The two wandered into the cabin to discover it was a lot larger than it had looked from the front. Clearly more of a permanent residence than a summer retreat home. Everything about it from the high wooden, the awkward shag carpet and linoleum floor as well as knick knacks strewn across every surface they could sit screamed of some sort of eclectic homeiness that neither were truly that familiar with.

 “Welcome to our home. Our small PATCH of solitude.” Yang emphasized her terrible pun to the groans of those present, coming down a set of stairs already changed into her vibrant yellow on black bikini.

 “Wait this is your actual house?” Weiss stared around at all the strange and mishmashed furniture. “I guess that makes sense.”

 “Wait. That means-” Blake was cut off by the sound of tiny paws tapping across the wooden floor.

 Zwei rounded a corner and bolted for the group. Blake dove to the safety of a small table top and Ruby did some sort of rock star knee slide, catching the dog from below before engulfing him in her best impression of one of Penny’s hugs.

 “Zwei!!!!”

 “Don’t worry, we’ll keep him on a leash or locked in a room until dad picks him up.” Yang said tossing a small collar and leash towards Ruby who deftly locked it in place.

 Eyeing the dog Blake quickly dashed for the stairs where Yang indicated they could use the bathroom or bedrooms to change. Weiss followed a moment later giving Zwei a quick scratch between his ears as she passed.

 The two changed leisurely, Blake into a black bikini with purple accented ribbons and drapings, elegant and somewhat impractical Blake assured Ruby that no it would not get caught on anything and yes the draping fabric could be removed before swimming. Weiss on the other hand appeared wearing what seemed to be professional swimming sportswear, a single one piece covered in weird patterns with side cut outs along her sides for her lower set of gills as well as a pair of knee high socks covered in similar strange white and blue designs.

 The other girls stared at Weiss confused for a while before Yang finally had to ask.

 “So what’s up with the uhh, water stockings? Is this some weird sort of foot thing?”

 “No you dolts, it’s optic camouflage. Coco designed it and said it would keep away any unwanted sea creatures while in the ocean. Like sea grimm or sharks.”    No one really knew how to follow that up so eventually they just let it go. Yang taking some pictures to send back to Coco as part of the design deal and Ruby running off to go change herself. Returning only moment later still in the red hoodie she had worn during the car ride but now in a set of swim shorts instead of her regular skirts.

 “I know you’re fast but that was impressive even for you.”

 “Thanks Blake, but actually I was already in most of the swimsuit before we even left. I’m just super excited!”

 “Well then,” Yang called heading towards the door with Weiss in tow. “Let’s get going, no time like the present.”

 Yang lead the group down a path from the back of the house towards the beach. It didn’t take too long for the sounds of kids and adults playing in the sun to reach their ears, at which point Weiss began to look nervous.

 “Hey are you okay?” Ruby pulled her aside to ask.

 “I thought we were going somewhere private to swim. I don’t want to be seen by people. What it word gets out?”

 Ruby quickly stopped her before she started spiralling, signalling Yang and Blake to go ahead.

 “We just need to go near the main beach to reach the trails. You can wear my hoodie until we get all the way there if you want. It should help hide your gills.”

 Weiss nodded slowly and Ruby stripped off her hoodie and helped Weiss into it, fitting almost perfectly despite the age difference.

 “Thank you,” she said quietly, letting Ruby wrap her arms around her in a soft hug.

 Ruby led Weiss down the path that Blake and Yang had gone, coming out on trail in the trees just above the dunes of the beach. Hundreds of beach goers could be seen just metres away down the slope and Weiss began to worry again, however Ruby led her away from the main beach along the trail. They passed four or five paths down to the sand and then eventually staircases as the trail and dune weaved upward transforming into a cliff side trail overlooking more rocky coves and outcroppings. Almost two stories up they came out on an overlooking point, clearly eroding and ready to collapse. From atop it Weiss could see massive rocks sticking out of once again jagged like angry teeth protruding from the sandy ground, she couldn’t help but run her tongue along her own. Swinging her gaze back up she found what seemed to be a climbing path down using the very roots of trees holding the ground up as rope clearly unstable after years of wear. Noticing Weiss’ apprehensive face Ruby laughed.

 “Don’t worry this isn’t the spot, but we’re almost there.”

 Following Ruby again they turned a small corner no farther than ten feet away and came upon what appeared to be hundreds of arches ground out of some sort of bush or tree. The resulting appearance of the too perfect and out of place fauna was rather unsettling, like some path one would follow only to disappear into a world of fae and darkness never to be seen again. Crossing through however opened up to massive trees growing out of the cliff side obscuring the ground below and flanked their opposite by a long well trimmed hedge, tall enough that you could make out the top of the cabin on the far side but nothing more. Ruby took her down a small path hidden in the branches into a clearly partway down, a podium almost nestled under the roots of a tree about and above the roots of a tree that looked like it had fallen from above but decided to keep growing against all odds across the ground towards the sea. A massive gnarled hand reaching out. Another path down opened out onto a small sandy beach surrounded by rocky outcrops that ran far out into the water.

 Yang and Blake were waiting for them, just finishing the final touches on the blankets and umbrella. The only two on the beach secluded by trees, the only opening revealing the massive hedges up and behind.

 “This is amazing.” Weiss gaped at the beauty of the small area.

 “We’re glad you like it” Yang waved them over. “We found this years ago, the owner of the cabin up there is gone most of the year but the property still acts as a sort of shield from the tourists. Most people think this is either private or they’re too scared to get past the cliff.”

 “Nice bathing suit Ruby” Blake said pulling out a folding chair and book.

 “Ack!” Ruby tried to hide behind Weiss who was still wearing her hoodie embarrassed by her overly lacey black top.

 “Come on it looks fine” Weiss tried to get away from her before relenting and instead returning her top.

 “Please sis, the goth look suits you.”

 Now free of the extra garment Weiss wandered out of the small play fight going on between her teammates and headed towards the shore. Pausing to relish the feel of the water on her feet she gazed back and forth across the beach taking in the site. Blake was in her chair in the shade reading, Yang and Ruby had stopped bickering and Yang lay out to sunbathe while Ruby climbed out across the rocks of one of the nearby outcroppings. The soft sound of the surf and gulls and warmth of the sun across her back reminded her of how long it had last been since she’d been able to find peace and quiet like this. The last time she’d been able to swim openly like this, though as that was back in Atlas it wasn’t quite so warm. She swam for what felt like ages, enjoying the fresh scents and tang of the ocean brine. Diving and exploring the caves and nooks down below discovering the various life that lived within. When she finally decided to take a break she leisurely swam over to the outcrop Ruby had perched on earlier and found that Blake had joined her a fishing rod in tow.

 “Weiss!” Ruby waved. “Come check this out! There’s a bunch of baby turts over here!”

 Coming up beside the rock Ruby helped pull Weiss up and above onto the stone shelf, discovering that on the other side was what appeared to be a massive bowl filled with small fish and a pod of small baby sea turtles.

 “When the tide rises they all swim in and then when it falls again a bunch stay behind” Ruby explained pointing out various different species they could see in the remarkable clear water.

 Eventually Weiss caught sight of Blake’s lure and padded over to her pouting as Blake without looking shifted the bucket containing her gains to the far side.

 “These are for dinner. You’ll get some then.” she teased.

 Flopping down and watching the pool and Blake’s lure once more they sat in comfortable silence. Ruby joining them shortly paddling her feet in the water.

 The peace was broken by a sudden hissing sound, Blake and Weiss whipped their heads to see Yang who had finally finished with her sunbathing wading out into the water which seemed to boil and steam around her as she went. Ruby seemed completed unperturbed by the whole thing.

 “She gets hot.”

 Everyone knew that but apparently her natural body temperature plus basking in the glare of the sun turned her into walking fire.

 Finally as the tide began to creep up onto the tops of the rocks and the sky began to turn a gorgeous dark orange they decided it was time to clean up and head back. Weiss and Ruby helped carry the gear as they hadn’t on the way there, and Yang and Blake carried the buckets of fish. Blake had managed to catch a massive haul, yet they still weren’t sure if it would be enough. Tai apparently would have picked up Zwei back at the cabin and taken him over to Qrow’s where he was going to stay for the rest of the week. Something which Blake seemed quite glad of. Both as she didn’t have to stress over avoiding Zwei all week but also as it meant there was one less mouth to feed.

 The walk back seemed longer than the walk there as if the week had suddenly began to move at half the regular rate. Obviously it was just the exhaustion of the end of the day speaking but if it had been going slower none of them would have minded, everyone was just looking forward to the rest of their plans together.

[theswartzreport]

Musings: Extras

                       Bitter Tea: Extras and the Exploration of Self-Loathing

Ricky Gervais is, in his own vernacular, a twat. Once hailed as a comedic visionary for the truly transformative work of the original UK version of The Office, it has since become clear – through years of tone-deaf comments, myopic responses, and simply increasing nastiness to anybody who would question his “comic sensibilities” – that Gervais' David Brent was not, as Steve Carrell's sublime re-interpretation would seem to be, a work of fiction, a joyfully vicious skewering of a despicable, petty man with no redeeming qualities beyond commitment to a bit. Rather, Brent is the ur-Gervais, a repurposed version of Gervais' inability to accept criticism and seemingly blanket insensitivity, who happens to wield his ill-gotten power over a small office in Slough instead of via the airwaves of BBC and Netflix. (Gervais' collaborator, Stephen Merchant, escapes some criticism, although his solo outing into the cringe-y comedy he helped popularize with The Office, HBO's Hello Ladies, is so mind-blowingly inappropriate for the #MeToo era that it's hard to tell if it was too prescient for its own good, or actually sinister creepiness dressed up in self-deprecation).

And yet, it seems (or seemed, anyway) that Gervais did have some modicum of self-awareness, an insight into the fickle nature of fame and his own distinctly uncomfortable place within that construct. Extras, Gervais and Merchant's follow-up to The Office, remains a fascinating time-capsule, not just of the pre-smartphone era of celebrity (Kate Winslet providing vulgar dating advice while dressed as a nun remains a quintessential and suitably squirmy-hilarious portrait of how a famous person's public persona could be utterly at odds with their private lives in those heady days before Peak Internet), but of Gervais' halting, fleeting, excruciating discomfort with his new celebrity – and, crucially, whether he deserved to be famous at all.

Belying the promise of it's title, Extras does its best work after Gervais' Andy Millman has left the background acting life behind for (nominally) bigger and better things. Series One is a confusing mishmash of skewed celebrity cameos like the aforementioned Winslet riff, half-baked jokes at the power dynamics on film sets, and positively boorish behavior from Andy. As Andy's good natured-but-dim pal Maggie Jacobs, Ashley Jensen is often the butt of his jokes, while being too sweet and simple to understand that his abuse comes from a place of deep, profound insecurity – or that it's really abuse at all. That his onscreen bestie is presented as hopelessly idiotic is a clue to the esteem in which Gervais holds himself; that his character's professional and personal life withstand the shockingly minimal blowback from his racism, insensitivity and – particularly and least-fictionally – homophobia indicates unabashed contempt for all the enablers who never called out his abrasive shtick.

While often a broad continuation of the punching-down/punching-self dynamic that made The Office a cringe-inducing revelation, Gervais' newfound position of power – and the implicit power dynamic within the show, where Andy is an extra, put-upon by forces beyond his control – makes the target of his satire opaque. A self-punch registers as punching down at the plebs he so clearly despises; a jab at the Hollywood (or BBC) industry reeks of “it's not my fault, it's their's!” By removing his own icky persona from critical examination, he points his finger squarely and consistently at his own petty grievances – and perhaps to Gervais' continued indignation and bafflement, his grievances aren't the biggest problems in the world.

Which is why Series Two – and particularly the hour-plus Christmas special that serves as finale – contain such intriguing seeds. Here, we see Andy rise to fame as a catchphrase-spewing sitcom impresario, a lowest-common-denominator cash grab that inverts the contempt for the audiences who consume such dreck (although such contempt is still clearly evident) into an almost-cogent skewering of the mindset of fame itself: the self-loathing, unhappy drive that pushes untalented people like Andy to debase themselves for a scrap of recognition, even as they cannot escape the fact that they don't deserve their accolades and remuneration.

Here, Gervais seems to point to his own dark soul. While Andy still isn't (really) punished for his bigotry and misogyny, he does feel the weight of his unrealistic expectations as they come crashing down, shepherded by his general dickishness. There is genuine pathos in Andy's eventual, inevitable landing place: on the Celebrity Big Brother couch, surrounded by tragic caricatures of the type of revolving fame-seekers who populate such fare. This, after all, is where Andy belongs. This is where he is his truest self: a fame seeker who lucked into his chance, only to realize that he had no talent, no work ethic, no friends and no prospects. He's doing Big Brother because, as a frantically tap-dancing Lionel Blair explains, “it helps to keep the profile up,” whether or not the profile deserves to continue.

For most any other performer, this would be standard “price of fame” fodder, a narrative about how the soulless industry churns through Bright Young Things and leaves them broken and alone. But because Andy – like, by all appearances, his creator Gervais – is such an insufferable asshole, it serves more as a karmic referendum on his worthiness, specifically. It's not just that Andy forgot the little people, ordered extras fired, acted like a prima donna. It's that he did all of that stuff before he became famous, because that's just who he is: a mean, small man, who blames the world and everyone in it for his failings.

Despite the de rigueur happy(ish) ending, where Andy epiphanies all over the Big Brother house and rides off into the sunset cracking (mean-spirited) jokes with (at) Maggie, the remaining sour taste of Gervais' presence is sufficient to reveal the rot underneath his patter. Intentionally or not, Extras weighs and measures its star, and finds him wanting as a human being. It is perverse that his natural ability to reveal his own darkness has elevated Gervais to be hailed for mirroring our society, but perhaps – with a reality star villain in the White House, the U.K. pushed to the brink by small men dickering over whom to blame for their troubles, and a culture of fame that praises authenticity above example – he was the canary in the coal mine all along. In Extras, the canary clearly, emphatically died. We all just didn't realize it.

[overanxiousoutofmind]

What Only You Can Provide (5&6 pt.2)

Prompts Habits & Fate  I’ve abandonded hope of putting out this piece in a timely manner and am just trying to get it done by the end of January. Only one part left after this! Content Warning - Graphic Violence & Blood Also on A03

Catra wakes soon after Adora leaves in the morning. Lounging in the heat she leaves behind; her morning is off to a good start. In winter, her skills in hunting are especially important and where Adora’s schedule is full of regulation and self-imposed mandates, Catra’s is much, much more relaxed. She stays in the heat of their blankets for almost an hour, basking, before she reluctantly rises from the bed. The wood panels of their floor are cold against her feet, despite the special knitted socks she made for herself. In winter, it is far too cold for her to walk barefoot, and her lack of a winter coat forces her to adapt their clothing to her needs.

She eats a simple breakfast, and gets her gear on for the hunt. In the cold, she abandons her Horde uniform for the comfort of a woolen sweater over the thin shirts they recovered from Thaymor. Simple trousers, thick enough for the cold but thin enough for her to move. She’s cut a button hole for her tail into almost every pair of pants they own, even those she never wears. At first because, someday, she might have to wear them. And when that proved untrue, she continued if only to see that cute crease in Adora’s brow when she accidentally threaded her belt into the seat of her pants. She wears a similar coat to Adora’s own deerskin, though hers has a lighter pattern overall and is lined with white fur. The lighter the better, in winter, as her own coat offers no camouflage against the snow.

She straps her quiver and bow onto her pack, tightly securing it through the loops. She would have to travel far to find anything today. As of recently, decent game was becoming harder and harder to find near their cabin, and it has been almost a week since they had anything besides squirrel stew in their stomachs. She pulls on her gloves, and her hand traces over the red mask sitting next to them. It’s been months since she last wore it, a present from Adora that was found in the scrapyards outside the barracks when Catra’s hair caused her to trip during training. The metal is too cold to wear in winter, and besides that, she feels an odd mix of nostalgia and contempt for it. It is the first gift she was ever given, but one she only needed because of the threat of another beating if she failed to perform. Catra slings the pack over her shoulder, and sets off into the morning chill.

She finds the trail of a herd of deer in the early afternoon, and heads south to track them. Some trails are easier to find in winter. Deer, foxes, and the precious few other animals that haven’t already fled the woods all make more visible trails in the standing white snow. Catra’s trail is no different and she must make her path harder to track when she returns to the cabin with a kill. She suspects the woods are helping her, disappearing her tracks in the night after she returns home. Despite their help and the soothing of Adora’s arms around her each night she still suffers little bouts of paranoia. A flash of red is all it takes or a rumbling sound like tank treads. Her hair stands on end in these moments, teeth clench, and her claws dig deep enough to prick at her palms. It passes, in time, but she watches the shadows closer after each moment. Careful of what might be in them. Adora’s says she’s seeing things. But Catra knows better.

A mile from their home she finds a row of tracks distinctly unlike any she’s seen in the woods before. They’re off her path. The deer are heading to sheltered areas to rest from feeding in the shallower banks near the southern border and are making their way further in to the woods to hunker down for a few days to conserve their energy. She’s about to follow them deeper into the woods when she spots the parallel lines of a sled and the deep footfalls in its wake. Each track was deep, uniform, and orderly. Moving northward, not in line with the deer at all, seemingly pointed directly towards the northern edge of the woods. This stretch of the Whispering Woods is thinner than others and it’s only a few more miles to the northern border from here. She observers the sides of the tracks, two lines as if it were just a pair walking but none of the tracks have clean sides to them. They’re all a touch too wide, and the tread marks below them are all jumbled with a mishmash of the same tread pattern. Horde regulation, parallel lines around a long oval in the center. A small company, with at least enough sense to try and hide their numbers.

It isn’t unheard of to send a scouting mission into the Whispering Woods in the winter. From what she overheard from those on active duty in the Horde, these missions were often sent out to establish a route through the woods that could be expanded over time. The goal isn’t just to reach the other side of the woods, but to also take stock of the terrain along the way. The Horde longs for a way across the Whispering Woods and their lethargy in winter makes for an easier target. The longer she thinks about it the more she is surprised it took them this long to send a team on this route. An aerial view surely reveals that this stretch of woods is the thinnest of all. Beyond that, what of their cabin? Could this scouting mission have an ulterior motive, and be sent here to look for the residents of an unknown structure that appeared in the middle of the woods? The possibilities haunt her, and the fear rises like a steady beat of drums filling her ears.

Her claws dig through the ends of her gloves before she realizes they’ve begun to unsheathe. She observes their points, the curvature of their ends and the sharpness they retain. Catra hasn’t used them against anything that wasn’t wood in a long while. They’re still sharp. And more than durable enough to pierce through Horde regulation armor.

Catra’s pace along their trail is steady. She locks away her fear as she walks, stuffs it as far down into her chest as she can until nothing is left where it once occupied. She cannot be delayed, for every moment they get a closer to finding her home.

Catching up to them takes her only an hour, and she sights them long before they would have a chance to notice her. Five of them, walking in formation at a slow pace, dragging a sled full of supplies in the middle of their number. She stalks them, keeping herself at a distance. The woods are cooperating with her. She can feel it in the bark of the trees, giving subtly to her touch and bending every so slightly to hide her form. They will never help her hunt animals, and they tell Adora it is because they must learn to hunt such creatures without aid. But the Horde are an exception. These scouts are the enemy, through and through, and there will be nothing held back when the moment comes.

The scouts stop at the crest of a large bank in a thicker part of the woods. The lead scout signals to the others behind them to take positions. They’ve spotted something further up the path. She reads their non-verbal commands, watches how they fan out to cover their angles and one of them drags the sled behind a snow bank and covers it in a white tarp. Their distraction gives her the opportunity to get closer, and she makes her way foot by foot as they set themselves. Whether the scouts’ ambush is successful or not matters little, so long as she can compromise their supplies, and without them these scouts will never see the outside of these woods. Starvation, the cold, or Catra herself. The only options she can afford to give them must all end in death.

As she nears the supplies the scouts arrange themselves in a haphazard “U” around a narrow point of the path ahead. From here she can see them all, ducking behind trees and hiding themselves in the snow. It’s effective enough camouflage, so long as their prey is only coming from one angle. This far up the bank she cannot see who the leader is tracking, but they are at the top of the formation and all the scouts are focused on their position for the time being. She makes her way to their supplies and carefully opens the tarp. They have rations enough to last a week, consisting of a burner and cup with several packages of tasteless soup and dried nuts and berries in little packages. She slashes the wires connecting the burner’s base to its fuel, and punctures holes in all the packages so that the contents spill and mix into a soggy mess. They have a surplus of tents, enough to fit six scouts comfortably and Catra makes short work of ripping out the corners and tearing large holes in the canvas with her carving knife. It’s slow, agonizing work to keep it silent, but she manages it when a gust of wind begins to howl around them, louder and louder as its pace quickens.

Just as she is stepping away and lowering the tarp she feels something moving near her boot. She jumps, claws outstretched but stops short when she sees that it is only the root of a tree, snaking subtly out of the snow. It perks up, almost like a snake, and taps at her foot before pointing towards the path in front of the scouts. She looks over, sees all the scouts still locked in formation, but now their prey is in sight. Two figures, huddles around a small device in the hands of the taller one are making their way down the path with the wind at their backs. Under their hoods Catra can just make out the purple-pink ends of the shorter one’s hair and the dark skin of the taller one. It takes her a moment, but recognition slowly sets in alongside a tight coil threading through her stomach.

The princess and her companion. The very same that had almost found her and Adora in the hollow tree they slept in on their first night in the woods. She looks closer and she can see the familiar flourishes of bright moon fashion about them and the bow upon the boy’s back. A princess of all things for Horde scouts to encounter this far into the woods, in the instant she sees the princesses hood fly back and spots her familiar, glittery face she wants to scream in frustration. Never mind a scouting mission, if they caught a princess that would mean Horde and Rebellion soldiers alike would be crawling all over the woods in just a few hours. A growl rises in her throat, thankfully lost to the wind and she paces once, claws extended and flexing as she frantically tries to come up with a plan.

The opportunity to do so, however, is taken from her as the leader motions for their troops to ready themselves. The princess and the boy are almost in the center of them. Catra no longer has time to plan her next movement. Impulse is all she has, and in the moment, she stalks forward and draws the knife from her belt.

Catra has little time to check how heavily armed the soldiers are. Two of them hold ranged stun batons, likely set to their lower capacity to subdue the princess and her companion. The other three are armed with double-side stun spears, close ranged weapons much like the staffs she used in training. The closest soldier to her is holding one of the batons, aimed at the boy who has his back turned to the solider while he tries to fix the princess’s hood. She stalks up quickly, the knife held tight in her right hand and pounces onto the scout. They yelp, stun baton firing off into the air as her weight impacts their side. She twists as the scout impacts the tree, thrusting the knife up and into the gap between their chest armor and helmet and into what she hopes is their shoulder. There is a momentary struggle, hands clutching at her wrists and she is thrown off them. She scrambles to her feet and is dimly aware of the sounds of baton fire over the wind to her left before she sees another scout is bearing down on her with spear.

She throws herself towards the baton and her claws scarp its edges just as the spear impacts her side. She isn’t hurt by the impact so much as she is startled, whipping around to try and catch it as it swings up to meet her chest. The impact hits low, knocking out her breath and she doubles over onto her hands and knees. From between her loose bangs she barely catches sight of the scout’s boot before it impacts her face. She falls to her stomach, teeth bared and seething at the pain blossoming from her nose as she collects herself the ground. There’s movement to her right, and instinct tells her there’s going to be another strike to her back any second now but the baton is just within reach. In flipping herself over she sees for an instant the scout with the spear raised high and then convulsing as the bolt from the stun baton strikes them in the chest. She scrambles to her feet, pausing only to let the baton’s energy run its course before digging her fingers into the crux of the scout’s elbow.

They cry out, and in her other hand she is able to easily wrest the spear from their grasp. With a twist of her waist she swings the spear down and strikes the scout’s shoulder, resting it there as she activates it. The energy arcs over the scout’s form for a moment before they slump over, unconscious.

Catra turns, spots the princess and the boy on the other side of the path. They have the leader of the scouts pinned against a tree’s roots with arrows, and the other is being swiftly tag teamed by the duo as the boy uses his bow to choke out the scout while the princess punches them in the gut. A moment’s rest is all she gets before the last scout is upon her, swinging wildly towards her head and screaming in rage. As the spear’s crackling swings over her she moves, training taking her through the motion and the spear in her hands jabs at the scout’s throat just hard enough to startle them. They freeze, a hand coming to their throat and in that moment, she swings again with the spear active, striking them in the back. They fall, limp and twitching for a moment. And then they are still.

As the fighting dulls Catra tries to calm herself. She is panting, breath visible in the cold air and terribly labored. There’s blood dripping from her nose, and when she goes to wipe it with her sleeve the she finds her grip on the spear is hard to loosen. The princess and the boy step around the scouts’ unconscious forms and begin to measure out lengths of rope. She watches, for a moment, still trying calm herself but before she can she is walking towards them.

“Stop.” Catra says, and her voice, at least, is still strong.

The boy jolts, and the princess turns to her with a snap.

“What—” the princess starts and Catra cuts her off with a hand.

“Just watch.” Catra says. They look to the scouts and see the roots of the trees emerging from the snow. The tips of each root wave in the air before curling over the bodies of the scouts like ivy, invading their armor and thick coats, digging deep and pulling them down into the cold and white. Catra looks back to the three she fought, and the trees are pulling them down too. A root tugs at the spear in her hand. She lets go, and the root quickly drags it below the snow, the very tip of it disappearing in a gentle cascade of white flakes. In its place the roots lift her knife, retrieved from the scout’s body and one of the roots gently wipes the blood from the blade. Too much blood. She must have missed.

The princess and the boy are staring at her. Catra tries to still her hand as she shakily takes the knife. In the corner of her eye she can see their faces as they watch, a near unreadable mixture of discomfort, some dawning horror as they realize what the woods is doing, and fear. Fear for her, or of her, she doesn’t know. But it could be useful either way.

And then the boy speaks.

“Well!” he says, and she can hear the discomfort in his voice as he steps away from where the scout’s body disappeared, “that was…pretty brutal.” At least he has eyes.

He smiles anyways and Catra can see the strain it carries at the edges. “Thanks for your help, by the way. I don’t know what we would’ve done if they’d gotten the drop on us.”

The princess glares at the boy for a second, crossing her arms. “We totally could’ve taken them, though.”

“Right,” Catra places the knife in its sheathe, keeping the princess’s gaze, “because a squad of scouts who totally didn’t have the drop on you were clearly too easy for you.”

The princess’s cheeks color and she looks ready to snap back at Catra but the boy interrupts, hands help up placatingly. “Hey! Hey, let’s not fight with the nice lady who just took down three Horde soldiers that could have killed us.” He gives the princess a pointed look, and for a moment it appears she isn’t going to back down before she huffs, snorting air out of her nose.

“Fine, thanks for helping us.” She says, looking away from Catra.

Catra narrows her eyes in response, and the boy steps forward with a hand outstretched and a renewed eagerness in his smile.

“I think we go off on the wrong foot,” he says, “I’m Bow, and this is Glimmer, and we’re very thankful for your help…?” He trails off. Oh, he expects her to tell them her name?

She sniffs at his hand, arms crossed. “You shouldn’t be here.”’

Incredibly, his smile doesn’t drop. But the princess steps forward now, stomping her foot. “The Whispering Woods is rebellion territory! If anyone shouldn’t be here its you, whoever you are!”

Catra hisses, and Bow grabs the princess’s shoulder, “Hey now, remember what I said. Let’s not fight the nice lady.” And in a lower voice, which Catra can just barely hear, “and let’s not forgot why we’re here. Y’know, diplomatic mission. Looking for the spirits of the woods, who are two ladies, one of whom has yellow and blue eyes.”

Glimmer cools, her expression tempering. “Yes, Bow, I get it.” She sighs, and rights her posture. She looks like she’s about to start some kind of speech when Catra decides she’s had enough.

“I appreciate the routine,” she isn’t, and the expression the princess makes threatens to tug up the edges of her frown, “but unless you have a reason to stay in the woods, you should leave. The woods are not safe for you.”

“Yeah, so we’ve noticed,” Bow says apologetically, “we’re just a little nervous. We haven’t really had the best luck with the whole diplomatic mission thing.”

“However!” Glimmer says, “since we’ve found you, we can complete that mission and let you get back to, well, whatever you were doing before.”

Great. “And what exactly is your mission?”

“On behalf of the kingdom of Bright Moon, we have come to offer our aid to the spirts of the Whispering Woods,” as she speaks, Bow moves to the side where their heavy pack was thrown during the attack and pulls out two cloth bundles of about the size of the princess’s head but no large than her ego that are tied with a bright blue thread, “as thanks for your assistance to our people over the last several months, the Queen asked us to personally see these gifts to you.”

“What do you mean, ‘spirits’?”

“It’s what the villager haves been calling you,” Bow explains, “well, you and that other lady. The tall one with the axe? People have seen you guys around after their things have been mysteriously fixed, and well, they figured that since people kept catching glimpses of two mysterious people in the woods that you must be some kind of benevolent spirits.”

So, the villagers were clearly crazy. Nothing surprising there.

Bow presents the bundles to Catra. She almost reaches out on reflex but stops short.

“And what exactly is in this…gift.”

“A little bit of bread, medicine, and a few things from the people in the villages nearby,” she picks them up as Bow explains, sniffing them before placing them in her pack, “most of these are offerings they wanted to make in thanks, but they weren’t sure how to get them to you. They asked us to take them with us, since we were coming out here to find you anyways.”

“Well, you found me.” She says, stepping back from him, “so, mission accomplished. Are you going now?”

“Well there was one last thing…” Bow starts, and Catra growls from behind her teeth.

Glimmer steps forward again and the sparkles that dance around her hair form a crown of glittering stars.

“As the eldest and only princess of Bright Moon, it is my responsibility to represent my people in the Princess Alliance. And as the only living residents of the Whispering Woods, we would like to extend to you our protection and an offer of membership.”

“You want me to do what?” They had to be kidding right? She looks between them, the relaxed but confident Bow and the eager princess.

Glimmer continues, gesturing with a hand to Catra, “Well, as a princess of the Whispering Woods, you would have as much opportunity as anyone to join the Princess Alliance.”

“What did you just call me?” They can’t be serious.

Glimmer raises an eye brow, “…A princess? I mean, you live out in the middle of the magical woods that no one but princesses can navigate? You’ve been credited with helping at least half the people bordering the woods? And the whole tree thing just now? That sounds like a princess to me.”

Catra snarls, claws flexing, “I am not a princess.”

Both of them take a step back as Catra’s tail lashes angrily behind her. Bow sets a hand, on Glimmer’s shoulder and his eyes lock on the dark tips of Catra’s lengthening claws.

“Okay, noted,” says the boy, holding up both of his hands, palms flat, “not a princess.”

Glimmer presses on, “Look, maybe you’re not a princess,” Catra hisses, “definitely not a princess, but you’re not with the Horde either. They’ve been trying to get through the Whispering Woods to get to us for years and they’re never going to stop until we end this war. If you join us, we will be that much closer to stopping them and then we can all live without the threat of them attacking us.”

The offer has its merits. Behind the seething anger she has at being called a princess of all things she can see her point. She and Adora are on borrowed time as it is. Shadow Weaver hasn’t found them yet, which is more a miracle than she dares ask for. But that wouldn’t last forever. The Horde would find a way to them, someday. And it would help them to have someone else in their corner when the time came.

But like hell was she going to take hand-outs from them.

“Look,” she says, voice quiet and angry, “we’ve been doing fine on our own. We don’t need princesses and we don’t need your alliance, either.”

The princess bristles, and just when Catra thinks she’s about to fire back she goes calm, taking a deep breath.

“Fine.” She says through clenched teeth, “but just know that Bright Moon and the Princess Alliance will ready to take you in if you change your mind.”

Catra’s tail lashes against the snow behind her, “Are you going now?”

The princess nods. She and the boy leave, and Bow leans in close as they get far enough away. She imagines him congratulating the sparkling girl on her reigning in her temper, and Catra would almost agree. She was half expecting the princess to explode, light up this whole are like a bomb full of sparkles and stars when she said no to her deal.

She stays still, eyes locked on their position until they fade from view. In their absence, her mind is free to wander, and her thoughts center upon the memory of the scout she pinned to the tree. Her claws retract, slowly. The presence of the knife on her belt becomes heavier, and heavier. This was not like hunting. She knows what to expect from animals, from the complete cycle of the tracking, stalking, and killing to the skinning and preparing of game. It is a defined process. Necessary. And this is to. The Horde is her enemy, and they will not hesitate to kill her if she gives them the chance. But in this moment, she cannot help the way her tail lowers as the memory of her blade disappearing into the scout’s armor fills her mind. Catra feels the weight of it surround her like some ghostly visage, warping its hand around her throat and dripping blood between her finger tips.

She comes back to a root poking at her ankle. She turns, and follows the root of the tree, which the woods bring out of the snow around her. An older tree, so she thinks, with dull brown and grey bark and large twisting branches. A knot on the face of the tree opens and twirls outwards, three twig-like appendages spiral together to form an arm that reachs out with four fingers to her, beckoning. She takes the offered hand, and the tree pulls her closer.

More twigs sprout from the tree’s surface and before she has the chance to regret her choices, they grip her forearm and tug her tightly against the surface of the tree. She panics, scratching at the bark around her. Tighter and tighter the twigs bind her to the tree, until she can hardly move except to breathe. She yowls, teeth bared, and as she strains her neck away another twig comes up around her head, wrapping tight to her ears.

And the she hears them, little whispers at the very edge of her hearing. She stills against the tree and all of the twigs fall limp at once. Besides the ones around her head, which shift around her ears. She can feel them caressing her inner ear, tickling the short fur inside before going still. She reaches up, and feels the petals of lowers blooming around her ears. She takes out the carving knife and looks at her reflection in the blade’s polish. Around her face, in a similar fashion to the mask she once wore, is an arrangement of twigs and white blossoms. Two flowers, white and vibrant with near luminescent petals sit at the base of her ears, and from them thin branches of smooth grey and brown wood frame the sides of her face. She reaches up with one hand, tracing the side of it as the whispers increase in volume.

They are the woods. The Whispering Woods. They apologize for the abruptness of their actions, and she feels it like a wave around her, as if she is somehow connected to each tree. The crown they have given her, so they explain, is a way for them to communicate to her just as they have with Adora. It will only last so long as the flowers around her ears are in bloom, but can be gifted from any tree if she asks for it. She doesn’t speak aloud, but the woods seem to feel her questions as they form. They assure her, this gift was long coming. They were waiting for the right moment, conserving their energy for something they knew was inevitable, and that now was that very moment.

Catra closes her eyes and they show her a clearing, far from her, with four crystal spires standing before a much larger one. In the clearing she can see Adora and Madame Razz, approaching the largest spire. Adora’s lips move as she touches something on the spire’s face and though she cannot hear her words she can feel the rush of fear from the woods as they do. Light flashes from the place where Adora’s hand makes contact and the face of the spire splits open. She watches the sword, in its true form, spark to life like a beacon at Adora’s side.

And then the vision is over. She can feel the fear rippling through the woods like a wave. To her left, the snow shifts as the roots beneath shift, shoveling the snow away and opening a path. They urge her, and she can hear them distinctly now, the chorus of their unified voice broken into a cacophony of panicked voices, urging her to go after Adora.

She runs, as fast as she can.

[wannawrite]

Crownless - KD

who?: Wanna One’s Kang Daniel genre: 🌺 type: scenario word count: 6.1K TW: gang au, violence, blood, hospitals, death

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The Royals PJH | PJH 2 | KD | KD 2 | PWJ

Crownless is the life a Royal had in their past - before crowns had been placed on their heads.

this little series is going to be more angsty because it is the past that is left behind. A good reason has to trigger the want to abandon something Hope you guys enjoy regardless!

- admin l

disclaimer: pictures used do not belong to me and credit goes to their original owners everything that is written here is purely fictional DO NOT READ IF TRIGGERING

~ 

Seongwoo hissed, feeling blood soak through his best friend’s shirt and coating his hands. His grip on Euigeon’s arm tightened, afraid of letting him fall too far beyond salvation.

“There isn’t enough time,” he whispered through gritted teeth. “You’ll die before any doctor reaches us.”

Euigeon could only groan in reply. His vision was blurred, brain fogged with think clumps of mist. He could feel the energy being drained out of him like a tap left running. Euigeon could feel Seongwoo trembling, supporting his weight while sustaining his own injuries.

Maybe Seongwoo was fearful too.

The sound of sirens and flashing white lights spoke to Seongwoo, warning him that even the pavements with the poorest of lighting were not safe. He had to get both of them off the road.

Now.

Seongwoo stumbled into the darkest alley he could find, shielding Euigeon from the eyes of their enemies. He heaved a sigh of relief when the cars passed by and they remained undiscovered.

But Euigeon wound had started to bleed more profusely, there was no way to harness it. Jaewon would never get to them in time. Heck, who knew if he was even alive. Either way, Euigeon was too far gone for their gang’s medic to patch him up - even if he was right around the corner.

A neon sign flashed against the night sky, it seemed nearby. The sign read ‘Central Busan General Hospital’.

Hospital.

Seongwoo hastily ripped another strip of his shirt to wrap around the gunshot wound, hoping it would sustain Euigeon until their journey was over. There had to be someone who was willing to help them, and it had to be a person who was not going to push questions. It felt like looking for a needle in a haystack.

Sure, no one would notice the enormous gash on Euigeon’s side. The blood on their shirts would be invisible. They’ll get caught, sent to jail, possibly end up spending the next few years of their life there. However, if they did not receive medical attention, there was a higher chance that both may perish. If Seongwoo played his card’s right and trusted Euigeon’s sensibility, then they would be saved.

“Hang on tight,” he whispered firmly. “We’ll be there soon.”

~

The journey was not easy. Most of it was spent ducking down, taking shady shortcuts through a neighbourhood Seongwoo did not hail from.

Busan was Euigeon’s playground. When did his toys become a weapon against him?

Euigeon had become significantly paler and weaker by the time the South entrance was in sight. The area was well-lit and has many people milling around despite the time. It was dangerous for them.

“No,” Euigeon muttered. “G-go by the back emergency entrance. People...p-people...too...many.”

Steering clear of the crowded main entrances, the two boys limped over to the back of the building under the cover of dormant ambulances and vehicles. Euigeon fell from Seongwoo’s grip, slumping over on the steps beside the door.

He could hear his best friend’s frantic voice yelling for help, a mishmash of chatter melding together and a short moment of silence passed before heavy footsteps started to head his way. Euigeon peeled open his eyes with his last burst of energy to see a flurry of worried faces. He felt himself being lifted off the ground, hauled onto a soft platform, giving his body a good break. The last thing he saw was a stark white ceiling, even brighter lights and the telltale diamond white coats of doctors.

~

PATIENT REPORT

First Name: Euigeon Last Name: Kang Sex: Male Age: 20 Diagnosis: N/A (Dr Yeon Hongseok) Procedures: N/A (Dr Yeon Hongseok) Estimated date of discharge: 12 August 2014 (Dr Yeon Hongseok)

~

PATIENT REPORT

First Name: Seongwoo Last Name: Ong Sex: Male Age: 21 Diagnosis: N/A (Dr Yeon Hongseok) Procedures: N/A (Dr Yeon Hongseok) Estimated date of discharge: 11 August 2014

~

“Doctor Yeon, don’t you think...it’s getting a bit ridiculous? Why are you going to such lengths to make sure such few people are aware of this situation?” you posed the question, voicing your thoughts out loud. 

Since that strange night, you noticed a shift in your mentor’s personality. Dr Yeon was usually more outgoing and open to other doctors about his patients but with these, he seemed to be protecting them from the world.

His antics frightened you as they were unusual, peculiar and unlike the mentor whose care you had been under for nearly three months now.

After immediate surgery had been performed on those two patients, he ordered them to be warded in the private, ICU ward. Then, the only people with access to the ward were him, you and a handful of experienced nurses. Dr Yeon was the only one who handled their medical reports and often stayed in the wards longer than the nurses did. Your mentor could lose his job if he continued keeping to such extreme confidentiality that some of the reports were clearly mishandled.

Still, he went ahead after your warnings.

It left you wondering what was so special about these two odd patients. They were around your own age, clearly, students working hard to graduate from their respective institutions.

You wondered how on earth one of them got shot in the chest and the other stabbed in the arm - most of their body suffered harm. Their knuckles suffered abrasions but not from recent encounters. Meaning, they were most likely boxers or took part in such a sport.

They intrigued a nosy intern like yourself.

Dr Yeon chuckled, sipping his coffee and scribbling words on another report. “Hardly. These boys are in my care. I’m doing what is necessary. Don’t tell me you gossip about patients in your care to all your friends.”

A guilty red coated your cheeks and you snapped your mouth shut, refusing to pursue the case. That was not what went down in the staff lounge. You padded down the corridor after Dr Yeon, offering brief smiles or greetings to fellow personnel.

The halls became much quieter when you reached the private wards. A different world from general wards.

The scanner beeped happily, recognising Dr Yeon’s ID card and popped the door open. He went ahead to examine his patients’ condition. As usual, they were fast asleep, showing no sign of any movement.

“I promised them to keep all information to myself. There are some matters that not everyone’s mind can handle,” Dr Yeon mentioned. He said it casually but you were certain those ‘matters’ were very serious.

Then he went about carrying the daily procedure. You remained at one side, eying both patients intently.

“Any sign of improvement?” You asked, prepared to scribble down notes.

Dr Yeon nodded without hesitation. “My guess is that they’ll regain consciousness tonight or tomorrow morning. Poor things, it must have been a traumatic experience for these kids.”

You inhaled sharply, hastily writing down Dr Yeon’s words.

Kids.

~

Dr Yeon was correct.

The first one to wake up was called Seongwoo. He was clearly out of it and confused when he opened his eyes. Still, he managed to comprehend a lot for someone who had been asleep for four days.

He called for a ‘Euigeon’ when he first peeled his eyes open. When Seongwoo understood the situation, he relaxed, leaning back onto the fluffy pillows.

Seongwoo managed to stomach a small snack and a short talk with Dr Yeon. Clearly, he was in no condition to be out and about again.

Despite all the pain, Seongwoo remained cheery, much more smiley than the usual patient. His sweetness made you sneak in a candy bar from the vending machine outside.

Euigeon arose a few hours later. As his injuries sustained were more serious, it was expected that he was dazed and less aware of his surroundings.

I mean, this guy got shot and knocked out for nearly a week straight.

Euigeon emitted some sort of boyish, fearless aura, yet a large part of it reflected his goldenness. He was charming, no doubt about that.

There was no control over the blush that washed through your face.

However, his confused and lost antics made you forget about his intimidating aura.

“Doctor,” he called out softly. “Do you like cats? I really miss my cats. But I’m not even sure if I can consider them my cats because all I did was pet and feed them in an alley. They’re my cats, aren’t they?”

Seongwoo traded a look with you before stifling his laughter. You tried your best to maintain a serious face but it posed to be challenging.

“I-I’m sure your cats are doing quite fine. I-if it helps, I can check on them,” you offered, half-jokingly.

Euigeon brightened immediately, his eyes widening. “You’d do that? You’d look after my cats for me, Doctor?”

You bit your lip, unsure of how to reply. There was no easy way to crush his cat-controlled heart.

“Um, sure. Just, just give me a location and description of your cats.”

In the far corner of your eye, Seongwoo was chortling with laughter, muffling them with his pillow. A serious deadpan was sent his way.

“Y-you guys relax, I’m going to get Dr Yeon and, and we’ll attend to both of you shortly,” you said while quickly slipping out of the room. Outside, you caught a breath.

Both were undeniably attractive, one was a childish cat lover, the other had a thing for humour.

Your head shook in either disbelief or amusement.

Children.

~

“Euigeon! You aren’t allowed to eat jellies!”

Frantic, you snatched the bag from his bedside and examined its contents.

Gummy bears.

“Where did you get them?” you demanded, worry and anger seeping into your tone. Every patient had a strict diet regime to stick to and this was not sitting well with either of the boys.

Euigeon gulped guiltily, shoving the last gummy bear into his mouth before answering. “I walked to the vending machine outside and bought them. Luckily, there was a dollar on the ground.”

The plastic wrapper curled under your furious grip, cholesterol levels rising faster than Euigeon’s blood sugar levels.

How, how, how, how did all the luck in the world pretty much swing in Euigeon’s direction? He did get shot but he found a dollar on the floor next to a vending machine selling his favourite gummy bears.

“Dr Yeon told us to relax in our last stages on recovery,” Seongwoo voiced through a toothy smile. He seemed eager to get discharged from the hospital.

Your form collapsed dramatically into one of the cushy guest armchairs, raising a hand to rub your temples. “I’m so afraid you guys would die without my care.”

For the past few weeks, you had grown accommodated to dealing and tackling these two patients. As the three of you belonged to the same decade, it was easy to bond over the simplest of things. Still, you had to be strict when it came to their wellbeing. Not only were they your friends, but they were also under your medical care. This added on a ton of anxiety for you to perform well.

It also made working ten times more fun.

Hushed whispers filled the space as you readied their dose of medicines and drips for the hour.

“Everything okay?”

Seongwoo flashed a nervous smile in response. He remained strangely silent as you went through the patient report.

Euigeon was the one to break the quietness that lingered in the air. “W-would you like to know the full story behind...o-our injuries?”

“Isn’t it supposed to be top-secret or something?” you replied quickly, breath catching in your throat and you turned away from meeting their gazes.

What the heck what the heck what the heck what the heck

“I’m a boxer at my...a-aunt’s gym,” Euigeon began somewhat cautiously. “I-I,”

“He’s trying to say that we got into a gang fight, with another gang,” Seongwoo jutted in, cutting the long story short. When Euigeon shot him an unamused glare, he raised an eyebrow in response.

“You looked like you needed help.”

Bells began to ring in your ears, alarmed at the confession you heard. Was your hearing betraying you? Did you hear them correctly?

It all added up. The secrecy, the shadiness, how quiet the room was for such loud wounds.

Your frickin’ gummy loving friend with the heart of a puppy was in a gang fight? Unbelievable.

Yet, was it disturbing that you saw no wrong in their status or ways? Was it because they were your friends? Had these kids become so likeable?

“The other gang thought we were messing up their drug supply but we don’t even touch drugs,” Euigeon explained. “Sports and heroin don’t mix. Neither do coke and cats. I think it’s dumb to invest in these substances.”

While it was heartening to know that they were not in the illegal drug ring, gangs in general still frightened you to a certain extent. The news reporters and countless write-ups have not painted their activity in the prettiest of lights.

Moving onto filling up Seongwoo’s report, you decided to press them more. “Why couldn’t you go back to your gang doctor? Don’t all gangs have one?”

Euigeon bit his lips together, pupils shaking uncertainly at your question. Seongwoo flicked his gaze anywhere but remotely near your form.

Eventually, either one of them let out their answer with a sigh. “Jaewon’s as good as dead or gone. We didn’t see him after he got stabbed. Too many people and then the police came.”

“Oh.”

Time passed excruciatingly slowly. Every single movement or sound made was now amplified. The clatter of the clipboards. Clinking of apparatuses against each other. The rolling of trolleys down the hall. Soft crinkles of fabric rubbing against each other.

The sound of blood rushing through your veins.

Your lips pursed, mind reeling hard to think about a possible proposition you could offer. Of course, you wanted to help them. Saving lives was your passion and,,, and these two were your friends.

By far, this was the most,,, unsettling but interesting confession ever heard from a friend - much less a patient. Your reaction had no time to be well-thought through or processed. It frothed out like bubbles from an over-boiled pot.

“Okay.” You finally resumed a proper breathing pattern. “I won’t tell a soul.”

Relief flooded through both their features, shattering any walls of fear that built up over time. Seongwoo beamed brighter and larger than ever. Euigeon nearly choked in disbelief, his crystalline eyes widening.

Empathy.

“And I’ll help you. I’ll always be reachable if you guys encounter anything.”

~

Under a watchful eye, your hands wrapped supple gauzes and bandages around Yiyang’s forearm. He winced ever so slightly at the impact on his gash.

Yiyang was Dr Yeon’s new regular at the hospital. In the wee hour of dawn, he had limped in with a severely twisted ankle.

From that moment onwards, you knew whose hands he would be placed in.

Dr Yeon, who kept tabs on almost every secret society member in Busan.

Yiyang was not the gentlest patient you had encountered but he was not the rowdiest either. He often reminded you of Seongwoo and Euigeon. The thoughts left you wondering about them.

Since August, you had only seen them once in September for a brief patch up. Thereafter, you caught a glimpse of Euigeon’s hair when you had gone to visit his alley cats. So far, it appeared as if nothing dire had befallen them.

Which was always good. Good, their lack of presence in the hospital hopefully signified they had been well off.

“Look after yourself, Yiyang. I hope to see you in better shape soon,” you said earnestly, offering him a reassuring smile.

The boy flashed a million dollar smile, nodded and promising to heed your advice. Dr Yeon stepped in, instructing him to rejuvenate for a few hours before getting discharged. “You and your dislocated shoulder are going nowhere.”

With a small smile, you slipped out of the curtained off area and back to the busy hallways. There was nearly never a moment for ER personnel to rest.

Suddenly, a nurse came rushing in your direction. He grabbed your arm, muttering incoherently about how there was somebody who requested to see you.

“Bloody wound...”

“He’s losing a lot of blood...”

“He only wants you to treat him.”

The thudding of your heart began to increase, along with your footsteps which quickened in a flurry.

Euigeon. Seongwoo.

Hunched over the side of the reception counter, Euigeon was pressing a hand to a bloodied spot above his eyebrow. Red marks streaked the sides of his face and dark lines were smeared across his clothes.

Shit.

His mouth stretched into a smile of utter solace when his eyes fell on your form. Euigeon tried to wave a hand but the pain was too much for him to raise one.

“Stupid,” you cursed under your breath as you reached his side. “How can you be smiling at a time like this?”

You placed a finger over his lips before he could reply and assisted him to the nearest treatment room. Thankfully, it was nearby.

Euigeon managed to haul himself onto the cushioned platform, he inhaled sharply. “I need help.”

“I have eyes, Euigeon and now, I want to hit you in the head. What happened? What did you do? How did this occur?” Rubber gloves were stretched onto your hands in record speed and you carefully began to assess the damage done.

Euigeon hissed when your finger pressed down a little bit too hard on the injured area. Justifiable, the cut was sizeable and rather deep, the edge of it jagged.

“This needs stitching up,” you muttered, almost to yourself. “What caused this?”

Euigeon shifted his gaze and smiled sheepishly. “I was at a bar when a person, probably from another gang, threatened to fight Jihoon, my...my coworker. It was a dumb reason.”

A hum left your lips in response, encouraging him to continue the story.

“I ran, Seongwoo ran, Jihoon ran but not before he punched the other man. We were a good block away when I tripped, and that guy smashed a beer bottle on my head. My memory is fuzzy after that but all I know is that Jihoon and Seongwoo hyung got him.”

“Did they drop you off?” You began to collect and gather supplies to begin cleaning the wound.

Euigeon pressed his lips into a fine line. “I hope so. I can’t...remember exactly.” He dropped his voice a notch lower. “I’m scared, y/n. Those are my brothers. T-they may have gotten hurt. God, I’m so scared for them. They need me.”

His loyalty was admirable, really. But in his condition, there was no way he could be of any help to the other two.

“Don’t worry. I’ll find them if they need me. Calm down,” you whispered soothingly into his ear, pulling him in for a hug. “Trust me. You’ll be fine. You’re in my hands now.”

A warmth spread through your body when Euigeon returned the embrace. Your stomach clenched when he tightened his grip around your shoulders.

Oh, Euigeon, how would I ever patch you up?

~

Grinning like a fool, Euigeon was wheeled to his rest area that had been prepared. However, he passed by a bed that held a strangely familiar occupant.

Once he realised who the identity belonged to, air caught in his throat and every organ in him coiled. He felt unsafe and insecure.

At the very least, his bed was pretty far away, that managed to partially douse his worries.

“Who is that in bed 528?” Euigeon asked as he settled into his own. It was those sort of ER areas where there were many beds, sectioned off by a blue curtain. For the most part, his section was quite empty.

At his question, your brow furrowed. “H-his name is Yiyang. I-I don’t suppose you know him?”

You pulled the blanket over Euigeon’s form, ensuring he was well tucked in.

“I-I do! He’s with a society called SMRK. They’re known to have quite a few international contacts. I don’t suppose they like my friends and I,” Euigeon hissed in a hushed tone. His jaw was clenched, ticked off by Yiyang’s presence.

For privacy, you shut the dividing curtains, wrapping a bubble over the two of you.

He sighed wearily, shutting his eyes tight a couple of times. “C-can you...not attend to him?”

“You know I can’t do that, Euigeon. It’s my job to make sure he’s well. And, he isn’t a completely bad person,” you tried to reason, patting the empty space on his pillow.

“I-I know. I...I-I’m just so afraid of losing you,” Euigeon confessed suddenly. He reached for your hand and held it tight. “I trust you, y/n. I-I like you a lot and I can’t stand the thought of you not being here. SMRK members are dangerous, they’ll-“

“Euigeon, don’t worry so much.” A red blush bloomed on your face. “If I can handle you, I think I can deal with anyone.”

“Stay here with me.”

You froze, eyes wide and shocked. You gulped visibly, taking a glance at the situation outside. It didn’t seem like they were shorthanded anymore so how much would a break hurt?

So, you grabbed a chair and sat next to Euigeon’s bed, hands entwined. He seemed at ease in this state and it made you all fuzzy inside.

“I’m serious.” He murmured with shut eyes. “I’m serious about liking you.”

In response, your grip around his hand tightened, you ran your thumb over his bruised knuckles. The pesky heart of yours threatened to burst out of your ribcage, thumping faster than a regular beat.

A tiny smile graced your face just thinking about what he said.

~

You had just breezed through the hospital’s entrance when Dr Yeon caught you by the arm and dragged you in the other direction.

“We have to evacuate. I’m getting you and Yiyang out of here before it’s too late,” he mumbled under his breath in an urgent tone. “People are convinced the hospital is a trading ground and hotspot for gang activity. Untrue but I received a tipoff that an organisation plans to raid it tonight.”

At his words, you felt the air being knocked out of your body and your eyes began to water.

“We’re just doing our jobs as medical personnel. Granted, I’ve done my fair share of good and bad. If we work fast enough, no one will get hurt and all would be well.”

Dr Yeon was a lot more alert of his surroundings, he investigated every nook and cranny of his workspace.

Turning to you, he said, “I’ve arranged for an ambulance to take you, Yiyang and Celeste to the nearest hospital. Thanks to his recklessness, that boy won’t be stable enough to run for himself today. You need to get out of here by 6pm. That’s when I’ll call the police to come in and patrol.”

“Why can’t we just stay here since the police are coming?” You wanted to minimise movement as much as possible.

“The reason behind the raid is to find and eliminate rival gang members I suppose - people are so crazy. Yiyang is one of them. Since we don’t know if there are spies, we have to mess up our schedules to throw them off track. I’m going to double check my records. Only Dr Jeon, Dr Jung, Nurse Celeste, Nurse Taeyang and you are aware of this.”

For the first time in your career, you felt like quitting and running. But here you were, scrambling to pack for the journey to the nearest hospital. Celeste’s report on Yiyang was that he was fast asleep, making the plan slightly harder.

Basically, to protect your patients, colleagues and yourself, you had to get out of here. You had no major worries about the aftermath, you would handle it when it happened.

Work was hard to continue when your eyes were trained on the ticking clock. Every second felt like time wasted.

It seemed like the higher-ups of the hospital had played their cards right by calling in more security. The guards gave you some sort of assurance that nothing too crazy would happen.

Hopefully.

When the clock struck 5pm, you and Nurse Celeste tittered out to where the ambulance was supposed to be waiting. You placed a hand on her shoulder to stop her when you realised something was amiss.

“Don’t move.”

Inching closer, you saw how the driver was awkwardly hunched over the wheel. And discovered why.

He was knocked out cold.

You forced the scream back down your throat but it tore through the defences when an arm encircled your waist in a way that made your skin crawl.

However, before whoever it was could act, they were slammed to the ground with a series of punches.

“Euigeon!” You gasped in disbelief and in horror. Now was the wrong time for your boyfriend to be here.

“I heard the news too,” he growled out through gritted teeth. “I have to help.”

You shook your head urgently, urging him to run as far as he could. Even though the plan was somewhat disrupted, it wasn’t to the point of entire failure.

“Euigeon, if you stay any longer, you’ll be dead for sure. I don’t know who’s behind this but I don’t intend on finding out and you shouldn’t either,” you argued, willing him to escape while he could.

Adamant on staying, Euigeon shook his head. A few moments later, Celeste and Taeyang burst through the doors with a sleepy Yiyang in a wheelchair.

Immediately, Euigeon’s gaze snapped to the half-conscious boy. He huffed and looked away, clearly conflicted.

You gulped, slowly stepping away from the vehicle, eying the unconscious driver and attacker on the ground. “Euigeon, I’m going to get security and Dr Yeon. D-don’t...please don’t do anything stupid.”

You turned on your heel and dashed into the hallway, fingers frantically swiping across your phone’s keyboard. To your utmost horror, Dr Yeon was uncontactable -  that made your blood run cold.

“Y/N!” Dr Jeon called your name, she was by the lift lobby, waiting. “Quickly! Gather your things. I’m staying behind.”

“Have you seen Dr Yeon? I can’t seem to reach his phone.” Your breaths were ragged and your chest heaved from all the running. “The driver has been attacked, I’m sending security his way right now.”

She grabbed your wrist before you could move, surprise evident on her face. “They know our plan...”

In one fluid action, she stormed into the lift, forced the doors shut and hit the basement floor buttons.

“You, Celeste and Yiyang have to get out of here...Now.”

The world above you began to shrink as the elevator hit rock bottom. Anxiety levels skyrocketing. Dr Jeon had called multiple people in the span of a minute. She brought her hair into a ponytail and stuffed her lab coat into her bag.

When the two of you arrived at the ambulance, Yiyang and Celeste were ready to go. You threw your bag in with her, more concerned about Euigeon.

He sat in the driver’s seat, door open and unfazed by the happenings. “They brought the driver into ER and the other guy has been arrested. Things are going well.”

You managed a small smile and wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders. In his arms, you could believe his reassurance that everything would be okay.

However, all serenity was broken by a loud commotion inside the hospital building itself. You prayed that the security would handle it.

Where the hell was Dr Yeon anyway? Where was his signal?

“It's time,” Dr Jeon said, revving the engine and gesturing for you to get inside.

“Go,” you whispered into Euigeon’s ear. “Circle round and I’ll meet you at the South entrance.”

He frowned, brow creased in protest. “B-but-“

“I will be there,” you declared with determination. “Take this.” You unhooked a small plush lion keychain from your phone case. “His name is Daniel. He’s always made be feel braver. So, even if I don’t come back for you, I’ll come back for him.”

Euigeon clasped the golden plush toy, rolling his eyes at your remark. He was scared for you but because he trusted you, he nodded. Fleetingly, your lips pressed against his before he stepped into the ambulance.

“See you soon,” he breathed.

~

Taeyang shook his head when he saw your face. “You don’t want to be here right now. I thought you’d left ages ago!”

“The hospital’s on lockdown. All the wards are sealed because the threats are worsening. Only a master key can open them. Don’t worry, one nurse inside the wards has one in case.”

You questioned him about Dr Yeon’s whereabouts but Taeyang had no clue either. You were not leaving without your mentor. He would be a prime target since he was the one helping the gang members. You had to ensure his safety.

At least Euigeon’s safe now...

That thought managed to make you feel more at ease, stumbling through strangely empty corridors.

“I’m sure Dr Yeon will find his way around things. There are police cars surrounding the area, nothing can go wrong,” Taeyang reasoned. “Now, we need to get you out of here. The fire escape should be the fastest way.”

He shoved a pocket-sized general first-aid kit into your hands for ‘anchoring’ purposes.

The emergency door recognised your work pass and slid open without qualms. You were eager to be reunited with Euigeon and everyone else.

Taeyang took a step forward...

And came face to face with Dr Jung, a gun in his hand and within point blank proximity.

“We were just leaving.”

You blinked and Taeyang had bolted the door shut but not before a bullet was fired into the wall on your side. Dr Jung roared and pounded on the door, firing another shot such that it broke the thin glass panel.

You screamed and Taeyang cursed, running down the hallway.

“Dr Jung?” you shrieked in shock and horror. “He’s the traitor!”

It was a slap in the face for you. A slap in Taeyang’s face, who worked closely with Dr Jung. His betrayal would knock the last nail into Dr Yeon’s coffin.

“Stairs! Stairs!” Taeyang yelled, pointing in the direction of it. Without hesitation, you raced down the steps, two at a time. Just as you were approaching the third floor, the door on that landing was thrown open by...Dr Yeon!

“Hello, Taeyang and Y/N!” Dr Yeon looked roughed up. His coat was half off and a bruise was beginning to form under his left eye.

“Lovely to see you guys here! Sorry I couldn’t get any calls! A virus infected my phone so I had to smash it. Then, Jung’s people got a hold of me but I managed to escape them!”

Or so he thought. Because before you knew it, a hoard of footsteps and shouts followed behind.

You changed staircases in order to throw them off your trail. Unfortunately, these people were smarter than their knife-wielding exteriors and followed suit, pursing the chase.

The burning in your thighs only ignited further, your lungs stung with the force of air you were inhaling. Everything hurt.

Thankfully, the back part of the first floor was not as chaotic as the front entrance. It became much easier to manoeuvre through the crowd.

Policeman. Civilian. Jung’s henchman.

The world became a bunch of muddled blurs. The noise was slowly growing softer and softer but the blood rushing to your ears became audible. Perhaps this was why you could not even process when something came down on your head, hard.

Air had been knocked out of your body. Vision had been stolen from you. White pain seared your entire being. You awaited another painful blow, but it never came. Instead, you felt two strong and familiar arms grip your shoulders and yank you to your feet.

Drowsy, you were able to make up Euigeon’s worried and pained face. His mouth was moving but you couldn’t make out any of the words he was saying. Only when you spotted a bloody patch on his side, did your senses awaken.

Euigeon had gotten stabbed because of you.

He pressed one hand to his side, the other arm supporting you as you limped towards the exit, towards the ambulance.

It was in sight, red flashing lights and all, sirens sounding like a wail, bringing your hearing back.

There was only room for one other injured person on board...

It’s me they want...not Euigeon. He...he didn’t have to get hurt. He doesn’t have to be hurt. He needs the help more than I do. They don’t need him. He’ll be fine.

“Come on! We’re almost there!”

“Euigeon...” you called out weakly, gazing at him for the last time. “There’s only room for one of us there.”

“No!” he protested, pace quickening as much as he could. “Don’t say that. They can work something out. Yiyang’s fine now. There’s space.”

But he was wrong.

With trembling lips, you forced yourself to emit words. “Euigeon, I don’t care if I don’t make it on. I can catch another one later. You need to make it on this one.”

Tears were flowing freely down your face but you didn’t care to brush them away. All you wanted to do was to hold him, all you wanted to feel was his skin against yours.

“I love you. And I never will stop. You’ve given me so much life in such a short time.”

There was just enough time for you to kiss him deeply, for him to grant you a goodbye kiss, though he was still denying the fact that you were slipping through his fingertips.

“I love you too. So, I’ll stay here. I’ll hold onto you, we can perish together. I don’t care because I love you,” Euigeon cried, refusing to let go even as the ambulance doors were being pried open. His tears were wetting the sides of his face, unable to stop flowing. 

I’m selfish. I can’t let you have what you want.

You nodded, savouring the fast few moments. Wishing all that he had said would be true. You would never forgive yourself for being selfish and wanting things your way. You prayed that with time, Euigeon would understand and forgive you.

So you held onto him for as long as you could.

In the midst of the chaos, in the midst of the unbecoming, you tried so hard to prevent. In the centre of the world collapsing on your shoulders.

Then, with all the strength you had left, you shoved Euigeon into the ambulance and slammed its doors shut. You willed for your friends to understand, for them to just drive off.

Maybe they thought you were onboard too but either way, the ambulance sped off despite Euigeon’s endless screams and pounding against the shut doors. 

You doubled over in the carpark, energy gone, blood staining your hands and clothes. Sorry for being selfish, sorry for failing, and sorry for being empathetic. At least nothing hurt anymore.

Euigeon never saw what happened to you but he heard a gunshot resound and that was all he had to hear.

He felt numb, void and the worst part was that all he could do was clutch your lion plushy and wish that he was with you.

~

A year later...

Seongwoo: ahhh, a new start, a new university, new identity Seongwoo: Seoul really is a metropolis Seongwoo: can’t wait for you to get to hq ;) BoA outdid herself with the crazy property Daniel: can’t wait, hyung! be there soon :)

Euigeon, well, Daniel, glanced back at the fluffy clouds dancing above the blue Busan sky. For a moment, he wanted to return back to his hometown. But it was only for a moment. An insignificant amount of time.

Still, he didn’t stop himself from looking at his hometown. The place he had grown up, had shaped him, had birthed him. In a way, he was sad to leave but he promised himself a fresh start. 

Taking deep breaths, Daniel played with a soft golden lion plush toy. He smiled at its whiskery muzzle, heart throbbing in the best way possible.

Finally, he clipped it onto the zipper of his backpack.

Daniel had a crown now. He had a branding now. He wasn’t a skinny kid running around the dark alleys of Busan, he was a man made for Seoul.

Still, he decided that there was no harm in bringing a treasured part of his Busan life to Seoul. There would always be a dash of that Busan boy in him. Everything that happened there, a year ago, a decade ago, were all parts of his life that he kept close to his heart, and no amount of moving would help that.

[queen-scribbles]

The Road to New Heomar

@pillarspromptsweekly #43: Whodunit. More Adi, because why not? :D

Adela had always loved a good mystery. It was part of what drove her to study languages; each new one was a mystery all its own, and there was always a satisfying payoff.  Equally fun but perhaps more frustrating for those around her, she had a long-standing habit of hunting out birthday presents that had driven her parents to more and more convoluted hiding places.

This love of a good mystery, coupled with more general curiosity, was probably what drew her in to the ciphers’ work room as she left Hadret House, and then more specifically to the pieces of parchment affixed to the wall. Some seemed to be missing persons cases, others leads on a sect of some cult or other. But the one that really caught her eye was the mishmash of notes and leads regarding a caravan that had disappeared en route to New Heomar. Now that looked like a good mystery. Individual people disappeared all the time, for good or ill, and big cities always wound up with at least one cult hiding in the warren of its streets. But for an entire caravan to vanish without a trace, that was impressive, And she was more than a little curious.

she didn’t have a lot of time to scan the various scraps of parchment tacked to the wall before Hiravias tugged on her arm. “C’mon, Watcher, I don’t think they’re lookin’ for help with any of this.”

“Just satisfying my curiosity,” Adela laughed,” twirling her braid as she let him pull her toward the door.

>X<   >X<     >X<

But the hint of mystery about this caravan remained, teasing the back of her mind as she ran errands and solved little problems for people around the city. She got so lost in dwelling on it, Edér had to wave a bowl of stew under her nose for her to catch on it was dinner time. 

“I know you love a good mystery, Adi, but don’t take it too far,” he chuckled.

“Sorry,” Adela said, accepting the still-steaming bowl with a sheepish smile. She set aside her quill and the journal she’d been scrawling notes in. “Thank you.”

“Welcome,” Edér said with a wink. “You’re plannin’ to track it down, ain’t you?”

“...Maybe,” she conceded, pushing the stew around with her spoon to cool it faster. “I wouldn’t ask for coin or anything to do it, solving the mystery would be enough for me. But I know that’s not compensation enough for some, so I’m hesitant to drag you all with me looking for them.”

“Well, I reckon the idea of findin’ people who probably need rescuin’ would also be reason enough,” he pointed out. “Not everything’s gotta be done for a reward.”

“True.” Adela scooped up a bite of stew and blew  on it before eating. “I guess in the morning we’re going caravan hunting.” It would give her time to look over her notes.

Edér grinned. “Sounds good to me.”

>X<   >X<     >X<

Not everyone was as enthusiastic about this plan, but none objected, so after a bright and early breakfast, they left Defiance Bay along the same route the ill-fated caravan had followed. At least, same route as far as Adela could remember and had subsequently written down in her notes.

“You do know how far it is from Defiance Bay to New Heomar, yes?” Aloth inquired diplomatically as they walked through early morning mists. “Not to disparage your intelligence, I just know how... focused you can get, one that leads to a significant chance of us finding ourselves rather more towards New Heomar than we expected.”

“Yes, I know how far it is to New Heomar,” Adela laughed. She’d figured he’d be the  one to say something. “Don’t worry, according to the Row’s notes, there’s a small village halfway between that the caravan never reached, either. So, in theory, unless we find evidence they went a different route, that’s as far as we’d have to look.”

He looked slightly reassured. “That;s still a lot of ground to cover, you realize.”

“I do. But it’s a good bit less than all the way to New Heomar, and I have a good feeling about our odds.”

“That’s the spirit,” Kana said cheerfully, approaching from behind. He flashed them both a toothy grin. “I’d much prefer a happy ending to this mystery, for the sake of both the missing souls and the story it will make.”

“Much as it’s in my power, I’ll see what I can do,” Adela replied, amused. “In service of both ends.”

“Do we know how far from the city they made it before they disapeared?” Aloth asked. “Or anything else that might help narrow the search area further?”

Adela shook her head. “Out of sight from the gates, but beyond that it’s anyone’s guess.”

“Why a group this size wanna go to New Heomar anyway?” Hiravias interjected, flicking a bug from Adela’s braid as he caught up. “That’s what I can’t figure out. From what I hear, they aren’t exactly swimming in wealth and available land in that part of the Dyrwood.”

“Maybe only some are staying in New Heomar and the rest are bound elsewhere,” Adela said with a shrug. “We can ask them when we find them.”

The druid grinned and adjusted his eyepatch. “Ah, blind optimism. It’s almost inspiring, in a way.”

>X<   >X<     >X<

Adela needed that ‘blind optimism’, as she quickly found out why books--of both fictional and informative natures--glazed over the ‘searching for hours to find a lead’ part of mysteries. If she’d possessed even a modicum less curiosity and tenacity she probably would have given up. After all, if the ciphers of Dunryd Row couldn’t find anything, what made her think she’d have better luck?

Finally, though, she caught sight of something off the road, so hidden in the underbrush a taller individual would likely have missed it. With a whoop of triumph, Adela shoved her grimoire into Aloth’s hands--simply because he was closest--and ducked into the close-knit tangle of weeds and flowers. She emerged a minute later, dirt and dead grass clinging to her braid with the same fervor her hand clenched around her find.

It didn’t look like much; a short curl of copper skewered through a scrap of parchment, the perfect colors for blending with the dying undergrowth. Adela smoothed out the wrinkled from the aprchment to read, half torn off, ‘...better luck in New He...’

“This was them!” she said excitedly, rocking up on the balls of her feet and rubbing her thumb over the hastily scrawled words.

“How can you tell?” Aloth asked, brushing some of the dirt from her hair as he offered back her grimoire. “Not to imply I disbelieve you, just curious as to your reasoning.”

“Aside from the incredibly faint but still useful traces of someone’s soul essence clinging to it?” Adela grinned, flipping her braid back over her shoulder before accepting the grimoire. “Call it an educated guess. I know there were a couple animancers traveling with them, animancers use copper more than your average Dyrwoodan. Also,” she handed him the scrap of parchment, “that handwriting matches one of the manifests Hadret House had as evidence.”

“A convincing case,” he agreed. “So what now? And why wouldn’t a cipher have picked up the essence and found this already?”

“It’s really faint,” Adela said. “I think the only reason I felt it is due to being a Watcher. Even a skilled cipher would have trouble, if they sense it at all. As far as what now, it seems we need to go in that direction.” She nodded toward the woods off the path.

“Perhaps we should stop for a rest first?” Aloth suggested. “We’ve been at this for hours, a chance to simply relax would be welcome.”

“I’ll second that,” Hiravias said, giving Aloth a friendly nudge with his elbow. “We need a chance to eat; I can hear Edér’s fucking stomach growl from five feet away.”

Adela glanced over her shoulder, toward where Edér stood with Kana and Pallegina, and he shrugged in sheepish confession. “Alright, short rest to get some food in our bellies” --her own growled at the realization of how long ago breakfast had been-- “then into the woods we go.”

“Tell me, Watcher, do you have any theories regarding what happened?” Pallegina asked as the six of them found places to sit. 

“I do, actually,” Adela nodded. She dug out a bag of dried fruit and tossed it to Kana for him and Edér to share. “I think they did it themselves.”

Edér frowned. “Why would they do a thing like that?”

“I haven’t the foggiest,” she admitted. “But think about it: this route isn’t exactly an easy one, but the biggest dangers are bandits, wild animals, and Glanfathans who object to people trespassing in their sacred places.” Hiravias grunted consensus with the last one as he scooped out a handful of dried apricots, and Adela smiled grimly before continuing. “From my experience, none of those threats are particularly... neat.”

Odema’s caravan flashed through her mind, and the smile turned to a grimace. 

“That’s puttin’ it nicely,” Edér snorted. “Nothin’ makes a mess like wolves.”

“My point exactly,” Adela said, gesturing broadly with her apple. “Someone decided they wanted to disappear and the road to New Heomar was the best place to do it; dangerous enough no one would question their loss, not so dangerous someone skilled would be in real trouble. And with how well their tracks are covered, this is someone who knows what they’re doing.”

“Which  begs the question of how they’ll react if we find them,” Kana pointed out. “If they’re wanting to disappear, I can’t imagine they’ll take kindly to being found.”

“Good point,” Adela conceded. She took a bite of her apple while she muffled it over. “S’ppose we can figure that out if we find them. If I’m right, we’ll have to see what they wanted to disappear from and go from there.”

“Considering you think there’s animancers among them, I can’t imagine their reasoning is anything good,” Aloth muttered.

“Not all animancers are bad!” Adela protested almost reflexively. “Like I said, assuming I’m even right, we’ll see what we’ll do when or if we find them.”

They sat for a few more minutes, enjoying the cool breeze that sprung up, before stowing the food and following Adela into the adjacent woods.”

>X<   >X<     >X<

Whoever or whatever was responsible for the caravan’s disappearance, one thing was certain: they were very thorough. The trail got no easier to follow, even when they were well away from the road. Adela almost wished they had Sagani with them, but Hiravias was doing an impressive job tracking, so hopefully the end result would be the same.

Bent blades of grass, scuffed off tree bark, a tuft of horse hair snagged by a bramble, slowly but surely they tracked their quarry through the woods. Finally they reached a point where Hiravias held up a hand and gestured ahead, toward a section of trees where more light was coming through. They slowed their pace, moving as quietly as possible, and crept closer.

In the clearing beyond the trees rested three wagons, the horses unhitched but grazing nearby. The kith who comprised the caravan--mostly folk with a few elves mixed in--sat or stood in small groups spread out across the clearing. They looked relaxed for the most part, but a few along the fringes were clearly more wary.

Guards, then, Adela mused. They all seemed to be here of their own volition; no one was being treated as prisoners or unwilling tagalongs that she could see. But she didn’t get a chance to pat herself on the back at the further evidence she was correct.

The nearest of the wary ones, as elf who looked maybe half Aloth’s age(best she could tell, elves were hard for her to pin down), swiveled toward where they crouched. His eyes narrowed and he pulled a pistol free of his belt. “Who’s there?”

Adela looked at her friends, shrugged, and then stepped into view, ignoring Aloth and Pallegina’s hissed cautions. She heard footsteps behind her, but didn’t look to see who followed. Edér, probably. Maybe Kana.

“I don’t mean you any harm,” she said, holding her hands well away from sceptre and grimoire both as she looked up at the elf. “I’d heard in Defiance Bay there was a missing caravan, and wanted to help. I know mishaps with caravan can be nasty” --the singing wind of a bîaŵac, Odema’s hand pressed against his crimson-painted stomach-- “and I wanted to make sure you were alright. That’s what happens when you cross curiosity and a bleeding heart.”

“Well, we’re fine,” the elf snapped. He lowered the pistol, still eyeing her suspiciously from under shaggy red hair. “So you can take your tall as blazes friends and fuck right off, aye?”

Adela looked back. Sure enough, Edér and Kana. “Sure, sure. I’ll tell Dunryd Row you’re safe and they can stop looking. I’m sure they won’t press for more details.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” A nearby human spun on one heel and hurried over, placing a restraining hand over the elf’s as he started to raise the pistol again. “Dunryd Row’s looking for us? Gav, maybe we should explain a little, ac?”

The elf sighed out a heavy breath through his nose but nodded. “Fine.” He tucked the pistol in his belt and cocked his head sharply as he looked at Adela. “This all of ya?”

Tempted as she was to say yes, this seemed a situation best helped by honesty. “No.” She gestured toward the trees, and Hiravias, Aloth, and Pallegina stepped out as well. “So, what’s your explanation for vanishing without a trace?”

The woman smirked and tugged at one of her tied-back curls. “Not entirely without a trace, aimica, or you would not have found us.”

“Point,” Adela nodded. “I’m Adela, by the way. Adela Tecali.”

“Hanna,” the woman replied in turn. She bobbled a hand casually toward the elf. “This is Gavryl. We” --this gesture encompassed the whole caravan-- “are just looking to be left alone.”

“Plenty of ways to do that without the disappearin’ act,” Edér chipped in.

Hanna hesitated, and Gavryl crossed his arms with a snort. “Not when you’ve been harassed, many times publicly, for months, ac? Rumors spread, and even seedy provincials are unwilling to have you.”

“Harassed....” Adela bit her lip. “Are you animancers, by any chance?”

“Ac, some are,” Hanna nodded. “The rest are friends and family tired of seeing loved one viewed with suspicion because they dabble in an... unknown science.” 

“That’s a diplomatic way to describe it.” She could almost hear the eyeroll in Aloth’s voice.

“Aloth,” she muttered, before flashing Hanna an apologetic smile. “My friend isn’t fond of animancy, to put that diplomatically.”

“And what about you?” Gavryl asked bluntly.

Adela shrugged. “I think it’s fascinating. Don’t practice myself, but like all fields of study or inquiry, I only take issue with it when it’s misused.” She shifted her weight and eyed the collection of kith scattered around the clearing. “So tell me, is the point of this disappearing act just to be left alone, or are you looking for somewhere your animancers can work without suspicion?”

“Both, really,” Hanna admitted, playing with the ends of her sash. “Most simply study the theory of it, but there are one or two among us who run small experiments occasionally. We were hoping to be written off as lost and find a small village somewhere to call our new home.”

“You don’t expect people to wonder where you came from?” Kana frowned. “Kith are a curious lot, I’ve found.”

“New settlers, looking for a home,” Hanna said with a shrug. “It’s not even entirely a lie, and there are enough new settlers in the Dyrwood, it shouldn’t raise too many follow up questions.”

“Well, then...” Adela ran one hand over her braid. It wasn’t a foolproof plan, but neither was it an openly malicious one. “I won’t stop you. But you realize Dunryd Row is very good at what they do, so if they’re looking, someone else will find you eventually. For your own sake, make sure you have a very good case at the ready for when that happens.”

“I don’t suppose,” Hanna began slowly, “you’d consider teling them you found the wreckage of our caravan in a swamp or something?”

“Hanna!” Gavryl protested.

“If they think we’re dead, they’ll stop looking,” she shot back.

“And animancers wonder why they’re viewed with suspicion,” Aloth said under his breath.

“If I tell them that, they’ll want to know how I found it and how I know it’s you.” She shook her head. “I’m fine with leaving the mystery for them to solve on their own, like we did, but if you’re simply looking for a new home than I don’t feel comfortable lying for you.”

“I understand,” Hanna said with a nod. “We will be content with your silence, then, aimica.”

“That I’m happy to promise,” Adela agreed. She heard Aloth shift behind her even though he didn’t say anything, and mentally placed a bet they would be having another of their discussions when they made camp that night. “If it’s acceptable to your friend?”

Gavryl shrugged. “Guess we don’t really have a choice but to trust ya, ‘less we want to become the paranoid, murderous lunatics everyone thinks we are.”

“Gav,” Hanna sighed reprovingly.

“What, I’m sayin’ we trust ‘em,” he protested. He made a shooing motion with one hand. “An’ now that’s settled, off with ya.”

“Sure,” Adela shrugged. She gestured to her friends. “Come on. We have other things to do.”

They all followed without comment, either for or against her decision.

“So, no reward, then,” Hiravias said casually once they were almost back to the road.��“Not from them in thanks for our silence, or from Dunryd for solving their mystery.”

Adela shrugged. “Just a good hunt and knowing we solved a mystery. That’s good enough for me, how ‘bout you?”

He grinned. “I suppose as a follower of the Seeker God, I have to say yes. Still, a more tangible reward wouldn’t go amiss.”

“I hear you,” she laughed. “But we don’t always get one. So the satisfaction of the hunt will have to do.”

That truly would be enough for her.

[universal-kitty]

“What? No. I wasn’t aiming for your hand. I was reaching for the, uh- popcorn.” w/ ya boy Guz? - limey

Romantic/Fluff Sentence Starters!@limey-blue-arty-do

   A movie at Po Town? Didn’t sound like the most improbable thing to ever happen. After all, despite being Alola’s nuisance they also were...very rarely more than that. Team Skull was more like a family of patched-together misfits who felt like the world had done them some wrong.... So the best way to express themselves was to rebel, spray paint some places, and steal a bus stop sign.

   Determined? Yes. An actual threat? Not really.

   Still made it a surprise when Hau came by the Pokemon Center, looking around before making a beeline to Rachel, chilling back in her seat and iconic Sylveon in her lap.

   “Did you hear?!” Rachel blinked up at him from over her glasses, surprised and confused.

   “...Hear about what?”

   “I heard Po Town is hosting a movie night! And they’re actually gonna let people into town for the event!”

   “Uh, sounds like fun...? But what does this have to do with-” Words were still being created when a thud happened just outside. The center’s doors shook on impact, before slowly opening. It took ‘em a minute, but a male and female grunt from Team Skull peered in, looking around before spotting Rachel.

   “Ah!! There she is!!” The female grunt seemed eager enough, pointing out the still confused Rachel, who glanced up at Hau for answers. He seemed just as confused.

   “I don’t think I got the bravery for this, sis...”

   “Nonsense!! Let’s go!” The girl dragged the guy along, appearing to fluster and go mute by the time they reached the other two trainers. “Yo, Rachel! We got a special request for you, gurl! Our boss wants ya to come down to Po Town for movie night, ya hear?!”

   Female grunt’s got her game face on, typical Team Skull posing and all, her companion just seems to wish to disappear into the floor, Hau is...lost, and Rachel? Well, she might as well just have been told she’s moving back to Kanto, for all she’s understanding, right now. It’s all so...confusing right now. A movie night should not have to have been big news, and yet...

   “I... I guess?”

   “A’right, but you better be there! Or we’ll bring you there ourselves!!” (“Arceus, I hope not,” her partner had mumbled.”) “PEACE!” They left pretty peacefully, at least. The guy rushing after his partner as- this time- they waited for the sliding doors to open before making a break for the outside.

   “....So. Was that what you were gonna work up to, Hau?”

   “It was a rumor at the time,” he admitted, “but... Hearing it for myself is weird.” Rachel nodded before looking down at her Sylveon, ears perked and head tilted in confusion. Then realizing she was being stared at, looking up at her trainer with a soft noise.

   “......I have a feeling tonight’s gonna be really weird.”

   “Syl....”

   Getting in was no problem. The grunts keeping watch outside were more than happy to wave her through and in. Po Town itself was...something else. Enjoyably rainy, but the town itself gave off weird vibes. A meant-to-be nice neighborhood turned into a mishmash of whatever spray Team Skull put down on the buildings and tiled walkways. Forgotten, smashed car in the middle of the road, closer to the home in the far back...

   Yeah, this place was something else. At least Mimikyu might like it. Assuming she was going to let out her pokemon at some point in the first place.

   Walking into the house at the end of the street...she honestly had to stop in her tracks. Po Town was known for being a trashy mess since Team Skull had gotten ahold of it. No routine care for the buildings and a bunch of wild childs meant the place had become a delicate gingerbread house in no time. But much to her surprise, a large chunk of that....wasn’t what the house interior looked like.

   Well, the walls were still kinda crappy with their slapped-on paint, but the floorboards were redone; no rotten wood or spray paint in sight. The staircase was still a bit of a mess, but obviously in repair. Had...they gotten someone to start fixing the place up...? Outside help or inside? ...Nah, who cared on that? They were trying to improve their main home and- if nothing else- that warmed Rachel’s heart a bit. Hopefully things would start improving for everyone if Team Skull had a cozy place to go back to at night....

   The room to the left was apparently cleared out for movie night. A single, worn couch, plenty of pillows and blankets (likely stolen or donated), and quite the handful of grunts already in the room... Guzma on the couch (who proceeded to freeze up when Rachel walked in) and Plumeria, who was sitting on the ground with the grunts and apparently swapping stories. She looked up when the other walked in, staring before slowly rising and walking over.

   Tension in the room shot up, electricity practically sparking in the air around them. Even Rachel was nervous, gripping onto her bag a little more tightly and shying away from Plumeria’s intense staredown.

   “...No fighting, no problems,” Team Skull’s Admin deadpanned. Rachel nodded, before breathing out, “Uh, yeah... Wasn’t planning on it, anyways. Movie night an’ all.....”

   The tension continued for a moment longer before Plumeria smiled, clapped Rachel on the shoulder, and then went back to the grunts. Quite a few who took it as a sign the trainer was now free dibs to swarm like bug pokemon!

   “Is it true you moved from Kanto?”   “What’s it like over there?!”   “I’m from Johto!!!”   “Can I see your pokemon?”   “Does your Mimikyu like to be cuddled??”   “You need to sit next to the Boss!”

   Somehow, Rachel found herself doing just that, dragged over to the couch by the armrest to the left, tucked right into Guzma’s side. He seemed to be going pink, but avoided any further questions or comments by flicking his glasses down and crossing his arms like a pouty child. In fact, he did look like one while doing that. A big ol’ pouty kid.

   ...Kinda made her smile.

   In the end, Mimikyu, Sylveon, and her Midday Lycanroc were allowed out and about, each playing around with the other grunt’s pokemon or getting attention from said grunts. Even Plumeria got into fur care of a Sylveon, much to Rachel’s amusement.

   By the time everything was ready to go, Rachel had popcorn (as did a few other grunts), Lycanroc had settled over some grunt’s lap (which they were more than happy with, apparently), and.... Interestingly enough, though it sounded like it was an open-invite movie night with Team Skull, it oddly didn’t have a lot of other people...or any at all. Team Skull and the next Alolan Champion, at most.

   Still, she sighed, accepted it for as it was...and laughed brightly when someone put in Beauty and the Beast for the first movie of the night.

   It was later on in the night, popcorn passed over to Plumeria (her container was empty, still wanted more; it’s not like Rachel was gonna eat it all on her own, so she handed it over), movies rolling on with memories being reminisced over the region left behind...that something was put over her hand. Glancing down, a fairly toned arm connected into a hot, sweaty hand...which connected back up to Guzma. He might’ve been blushing, but what was for sure was the odd, highly tense look on his face. Eyes still behind his glasses and he still looked too worked up for his own good!

   “Guz... Whatcha doin’?” She whispered, trying to not be overheard or disturb the movie. “Why did you grab my hand?” Guzma swallowed harshly, sweat beading up on his forehead. He went quiet for a bit, seeming to not know what to say...

   “What? No. I wasn’t aiming for your hand. I was reaching for the, uh- popcorn.” That was...the worst lie she’d ever heard. The popcorn container had originally been on her right side...away from Guz. And she’d handed that off to Plumeria at least 10 minutes ago!! She bit down a smile, though it seems Guzma saw it, immediately panicking. “Though, uh- If- If I-I’m bein’ a bother, I don’t--”

   “Guz.” The single nickname shut him up perfectly, lips pulled tight as I took his wrist. “...It’s fine. You might want to calm your sweaty hands, but... You’re fine.” He gave a short, flustered chuckle before pulling his hand away, wiping it on his pants before offering it, her hand slipping into his and linking fingers.

   An odd way to ask, but... This was...really nice. It’s not exactly a secret that she found the Team Skull leader attractive, but.... That he’d try to hold her hand like that and be so flustered was a mood boost. After all, it’s always nice to know feelings are replicated.

   (And it’s a good thing they were focused on that; didn’t have to notice the sneaky handshakes and quiet low-fives being passed around for tonight’s success!)

[dadgan]

Tidal Wave

A/N: Ok, so I don’t love how this turned out but I don’t write often so I probably just need more practice (bear with me please)! I will most likely write more moments in-between in the same universe as companions to this at some point when my schedule isn’t crazy. Anyway, I hope people enjoy this! :)

(note: bolded titles are beginnings of separate moments)

Tidal Wave

Nishiki’s feelings for Touka started slow then hit him fast. His feelings were the result of an amalgamation of small moments that pulled towards his center, growing and growing until they came crashing down like a wave, washing away any uncertainty and leaving love in its wake.

---

Two doves and a sliding glass door.

Touka had been moving furniture into her newly purchased coffee shop. It was a beautiful day so she left the sliding door at the back of the shop open so that she could walk in and out with ease. The open door allowed a nice breeze and Touka felt increasingly excited with each trinket and chair she dropped off.

All her excitement vanished when she heard a frantic rustling sound. She reflexively dropped into a fighting stance and called Nishiki in a panic when she saw the sound’s source.

“Nishiki. Get your ass over to :re right now,” she said in a tight and frantic whisper before Nishiki could even open his mouth to speak.

“What? What is it?” He responded with a mixture of annoyance and concern.

“Just do it, Shitty Nishiki!” Touka practically screamed before she hung up the phone.

Ten minutes later, Nishiki walked through the open sliding door at the back of the shop to see Touka visibly disheveled and crouched underneath a table. He had never seen her look so on edge. Before he could ask her what the fuck was going on, he witnessed two small turtle-doves dive towards the table.

Touka let out a blood curdling scream and Nishiki understood. Naturally, he burst into laughter. Touka noticed Nishiki’s presence at the sound and she narrowed her eyes at him.

“Get. Them. Out,” She spit through gritted teeth.

Nishiki paid her no mind. He was hunched over, letting out loud guffaws that only made the birds more frantic. There was nothing funnier to him then seeing his ferocious and stubborn friend shaking at the sight of two birds no bigger than baseballs.

“Nishiki, if you don’t get those things out of here in the next 30 seconds you can find a job somewhere else!”

Nishiki’s eyes sparkled with glee as his boisterous laughter subsided into short chuckles. He went to the supply closet and fetched a long broom. Within a few minutes he managed to guide the troublesome creatures out through the door.

Touka sprinted from her spot underneath the table to forcefully slide the door shut. She let out a huge sigh of relief as she relaxed her back against the door, breathing deeply with her eyes shut in an attempt to relax her racing heart.

“Thanks, Nishiki” Touka said as she opened her eyes to meet his.

When Touka looked in Nishiki’s eyes he was taken aback. He had never seen someone look at him with such unadulterated gratitude before. He felt his chest constrict but quickly pushed the unfamiliar pang away.

Nishiki smirked, “I guess I should return the birdhouse I got you as a present for the grand opening.”

The gratitude in Touka’s eyes vanished as she punched his arm, “Asshole!”

---

Puzzle Pieces.

It had been a particularly slow day at :re as an ongoing downpour kept most people confined to their homes and offices. Touka and Nishiki were talking idly behind the counter when Yomo entered the shop clad in a hideous leopard print rain coat and carrying a plastic shopping bag.

Both Touka and Nishiki raised their eyebrows at him, silently questioning where he had gone and what he had brought back.

Yomo silently approached the counter while reaching into the bag. Much to Touka and Nishiki’s surprise, Yomo pulled out a 1000-piece rabbit puzzle.

“Something to pass the time,” Yomo said as he walked over to a table and began to open the box.

“He’s joking right?” Nishiki whispered to Touka skeptically while giving her a sideways glance.

“Does he ever?” Touka chuckled and grabbed Nishiki’s elbow, leading them over to the table where Yomo sat separating the puzzle pieces.

The first thirty minutes of puzzling weren’t bad and they had successfully put together the puzzle’s outline.

The puzzle was a mishmash of different rabbit breeds. There were lops and lionheads and dwarves and angoras, but to Nishiki they all looked the same. He had been laboriously searching for the pieces of one of the few rabbits with a distinct coat when he noticed that Touka had a suspicious collection of pieces behind one of her arms.

“Holy shit. Are you hoarding pieces, Touka?” He questioned her in an irritated tone.

“No!” She replied indignantly.

“Then what are those pieces doing behind your arm?”

“I’m saving them,” she said simply.

“You mean hoarding them,” Nishiki retorted.

Touka rolled her eyes, “No, I mean I am saving them for when the rest of the puzzle is more complete.”

Nishiki scoffed. “No, you’re hoarding them because you noticed I was looking for them.”

Touka stood from her chair. “I am not!” she said forcefully.

Nishiki stood up as well. “Yes. You. Are.”

The two stared each other down as Yomo quietly began taking apart the portion  they had completed and shuffled the pieces back into the box. He shook his head as he stood and began walking to the back room. “I should have known.”

As soon as Yomo was out of sight, Nishiki and Touka’s shoulders began to shake as they used their hands to stifle their laughter.

“Thank god” they breathed in unison and Touka began to laugh so hard that her eyes began to twinkle with tears. It was the first genuine laugh Nishiki had heard from her in months – it was raw and pure and Nishiki couldn’t help but join her.

When their laughter died down she gave him a smile so bright that he felt his heart skip.

---

Another man’s birthday.

December 20th was a busy day at :re. Customers came and went and Touka moved mechanically through rehearsed greetings and complicated orders. It was Kaneki’s birthday and every ring of the bell above the door and each unfamiliar form that crossed the threshold caught Touka’s attention. The customers were all too tall, too short, too confident, too big, too thin. None were him. The shop was full of people yet Touka felt starkly alone. She was foolish to think today would be the day he returned.

As the day came to an end, Touka left closing the shop to Nishiki and Yomo and retired to her flat upstairs. Nishiki had observed her odd behavior all day but was unsure of whether or not to address it. Thus Nishiki carried on with his work as usual and helped Yomo at closing time.

When Nishiki and Yomo were finished, Nishiki climbed the stairs to Touka’s flat to tell her that he was headed out; however, Touka was nowhere to be found.  Nishiki sighed in annoyance. She must be on the goddamn roof. Under normal circumstances, Nishiki would just yell up to her and tell her he was leaving but something in his gut told him something was off. Nishiki made his way up to the rooftop deck just to be sure.

Touka’s rooftop was like an ad warning kids about the dangers of radiation. The floor was black with splotches of dirt and dead, dried plants sat in pots all around -some had even cracked and collected together like tumbleweeds. The scent that came off the roof smelled sulfuric and the black wrought iron fence was almost completely brown from rust. The place frankly disgusted Nishiki but for some godforsaken reason, Yomo and Touka were mad for it. Nishiki often caught the two of them sitting up there in companionable silence. He figured it was an ukaku thing because he would rather hug a dove than hang out somewhere high.  

“Touka?” He asked tentatively as he opened the door to the roof.

Touka, seated on the floor with her back against the wall, turned her head at the sound of her name but quickly turned it away when she saw Nishiki. She took a moment to subtly wipe her eyes and school her face into a blank expression.

“Are you headed home?” She asked in fake nonchalance.

“Not yet,” Nishiki responded as he made his way towards her. Touka kept her face to the side as if she had suddenly found something very interesting to look at.  

Nishiki silently sat next to her, pulling his legs up to his chest to mimic her position. They sat shoulder to shoulder in relative silence, Touka’s suppressed sniffling being the only sound. Nishiki watched Touka worry a faded rabbit keychain between her fingers and he vaguely recognized it.

Nishiki’s gaze dropped to the bracelet he wore on his wrist and he knew from past experience what she must be feeling. Nishiki carefully removed the bracelet then gently grabbed one of Touka’s hands. He placed the leather band in her palm.

Nishiki took a deep breath, pausing briefly as if he weren’t quite ready to say the words aloud, “Kimi gave me this and every time I see it, it reminds me of her. It used to hurt. Each time I caught sight of it my chest would ache - it was like heavy rocks were being piled on my chest but every day it hurt a little less. Sometimes it will get worse for a while until it becomes a dull pang.”

Nishiki closed her fist around the bracelet.

“I want you to keep it now. It’s something precious to me, so I’ll never go far without it.” Touka finally met his eyes with her confused gaze. He continued, “If it stays with you, I’ll never be far away. When you look at it, just know you aren’t alone.”

Touka’s tears came harder now and Nishiki knew she understood his words of comfort. Touka didn’t look him in the eyes and she didn’t say anything but the way she lay her head against his shoulder and the way she rubbed her eyes on his sweater told him that she was finally letting him in. She was trusting him to stay.

Touka clutched the bracelet against her chest as if she were protecting it and Nishiki knew that she was grateful for his words and that he could trust her to keep his bracelet safe.

It wasn’t long before Touka began to doze off, having cried herself to the point of exhaustion. Nishiki meant to rouse her, but he found himself drifting off as well. The sound of Touka’s steady breathing and her warmth against his side brought a surprising comfort. His chest felt lighter and his breathing came easier, as if the rocks weighing down on his chest had lifted. He knew he shouldn’t fall asleep like this but he couldn’t help but just let go, in more ways than one.

---

If you asked him, Nishiki wouldn’t be able to pinpoint one exact moment when he fell in love with Touka. There were countless moments in the span of three years that he fell in love with different parts of her – her smile, her laugh, her rare vulnerability, her strength.

Nishiki could, however, pinpoint the exact moment he realized it. His feelings hit like a tidal wave, they were beautiful and powerful but resulted in devastation.

It was a normal day like any other. Nishiki and Touka engaged in their usual banter in-between customers and the atmosphere was light and cheerful. Nishiki went to the storage room to get more coffee beans, complaining about Touka overworking him on his way.

In the quiet company of beans in the storage room, Nishiki thought about what film he and Touka would watch that night. They always hung out after work on Fridays - sometimes they went to pick up the newest manga, sometimes they planned out elaborate pranks on Yomo, sometimes they sipped coffee in the comfort of Touka’s flat and watched a movie, or in one case, a rabbit documentary that left Touka blushing furiously and had Nishiki teasing her for weeks.

Nishiki returned to give the beans he retrieved to Touka and his heart stopped. As Nishiki saw Touka welcoming Sasaki Haise, he knew for certain by the ache in his chest that he loved her… and that it may already be too late.