#its actually hardly ever a gun but when it is its fucking cool and so hard to fight against

[musubiki]

lime lime lime lime lime (and his m34th weapon that can turn into many things)

[pacifymebby]

i fucking love all ur peaky blinders writings you do them so well!! i was wondering if u could write one of about the peaky blinders n a reader that’s involved in a mafia, yk she has power, she’s strong, not intimidating by men, doesn’t hesitate to point a gun at someone’s head

Aw lovely thank u i am v happy u enjoy my work its so lovely to here!! Im so new to writing peaky boys stuff so its cool to see people enjoying it <3 <3

Hope you like these x some of them are long, i guess i got carried away haha

Tommy

🌿He can tell there's something different about you, something dangerous, a different kind of higher class, the second he sees you..

🌿And when he learns who you are - a mafia princess - his mind is set.

🌿He has to have you... Not just once, but for keeps.

🌿It wouldn't just be startegically a perfect move, ot would also bolster his ego. This is a man who wants the whole world and to wed mafia royalty... That would be a pretty big chunk of the world.

🌿But it would be scandalous in many ways... Hes a politician, a sitting MP... And its no secret the corruption, violence and murderous tendencies of your infamous family. There would be no feigning innocence anymore.

🌿If he's going to be with you he'll have to do it with his whole chest, openly admit to his own corruption and wrong doing, he'd have to be the bad guy in the open...

🌿 And he'd have to play his cards right, he couldn't be playing games with you... He's fairly certain playing games will end with one of your bullets in his brain.

🌿 You're already used to the finer things in life so his wining and dining and usual tactics won't work on you. "Is all this supposed to impress me Mr Shelby?"

🌿Your family probably have tigers roaming the villa grounds you grew up in. You probably grew up alongside wild animals...

🌿 And youre supposed to be impressed by a country estate and race horses...

🌿 Actually the things that really attract you to tommy are these:

🌿🌿He's troubled, he fought in a war, one which your family watched and ignored... You secretly don't believe that the men in your family, know what its really like to be a man, fighting to protect the family... Though they tell you that's what they're doing all the time.

🌿🌿His roots, theres somrthing mysterious about it, the fact that he talks to his horses, the fact you've heard theres a gypsy curse on his head. It's more interesting to you than anything you've heard back in New York

🌿🌿 The fact that there was a time in his life when he had nothing, he actually clawed his way out of poverty...you were born into your riches, you've never really had to work for anything in your life, so youre in awe of the things hes won for himself.

🌿🌿 You also love the way he takes whatever he wants from the world, just snatches it up regardless of whether he deserves it or not. Youre hoping thats what he'll do to you. Steal you away from your family. Claim you as his own.

🌿But you wont admit any of these things to him, you play the princess personality up for all its worth because you like the idea of being the one thing tommy shelby can't have

🌿Tommys brothers think hes daft for even trying... They've seen you, heard rumours about you, they think hes way out of his depth... But tommy is determined

🌿 And one day when you finally give into the charm youd been resisting, you become the most feared couple... The mafia are secretly scared of your gypsy husband, they dont trust that he wont put a curse on them... And tommys family are terrified of you, the unpredictable, spoilt princess who will not hesitate to shoot someone dead just for looking at her funny.

🌿He can't tame you though and it concerns him, you probably make more trouble than its worth... You don't have the manners of the english and you refuse to learn them. Not even Tommy can teach you.

🌿 Calls you princess to patronise you, enjoys talking down to you and trying to put you in your place even if it hardly ever works. Showers you with gifts, and when he realises how drawn to his gypsy roots you are, he starts showering you with gypsy gifts, little trinkets hes carved for you himself, jewels with fine tales behind them, mysterious histories which capture your imagination.

🌿He likes to take you out on horseback to the middle of nowhere, lie down with you under the shade of a tree or on the bank if a river and tell you as many stories as he can, either from his childhood or gypsy tales you tell little children. Its his only way of getting you to calm down or behave yourself, of getting you to stop putting on that "fearless and fearsome mafia wife" personality.

Alfie

🐻Can't imagine you'd get on very well at first... If he realised his attraction to you he'd be angry with himself for thinking that way about a "wop"

🐻 He'd definitely try to ignore it... Which would be difficult because every time you were in a room with him you'd be little miss provocative, trying to get under his skin.

🐻 Youre not sure if thats because youre so used to all men falling at your feet that youre actively pissed off that this man wont... Or if its because you can see that he is attracted to you, but isnt acting on it (which would piss you off even more than the former) OR (and this is unlikely right, you would never!) perhaps you find him attractive. This slightly mad, older man who behaves as close to any mafia man youve ever met only rougher, not so well groomed. Hes a little gruff, theres something a little dirty about him...

🐻 Also youre a mafia woman... Youve been spoilt rotten your whole life by your father and brothers but youve never really felt the love of any of them... Youve only ever been treated like a possession by them... Which is a sure fire recipe for DaddyIssues™️

🐻 This gruff and slightly insane older man then, might be the only person who could ever be everything you ever needed...

🐻 But that discovery probably pisses you off even more, so its likely that in the moment went you realise what you really want from him, you raise your gun to his head, make him look down the end of it.

🐻 He's probably the only one of the peaky men who isn't actually scared of you, not because he doesnt think youre unpredictable and dangerous, but because hes not scared of death, hes looked it in the eyes one too many times to be scared of a "little girl" with a gun.

🐻 "Alright alright so youve got yourself a gun and youre not afraid to use it... You've come in here... To my humble bakery what i built up from absolutely fuck all... And you're waving that thing in my face like its fuckin christmas day and you just plucked it out of Santas fuckin sack..." "Did you get it for Christmas y/n? Did santa make it for you in the North fucken Pole?"

🐻 "You can pretend to be a mad old man all you like Mr Solomons but I'm not scared of old men..."

🐻 "Ohh well, thats alright then, thats good very good actually, cause see somet you might not know about me right? Im not afraid of little girls... Yeah?"

🐻 The remark would shock you a little, not much but enough to make you hesitate, and in that second of hesitation he could disarm you. Not that you'll ever make the same mistake again.

🐻 But this time he disarms you and pushes you back down onto his desk, takes your chin between his thumb and index finger so that you have to look him in the eyes. He can see how angry you are but he isnt deterred because he has control now and he knows he won't get that opportunity again for awhile...

🐻 "Looks like your daddy didn't teach you how to properly handle your weapons... Wouldnt make that mistake me... No, i, would, not." "And anyway, right... Somethin else i wanna know yeah... What kind of father yeah, what kind of fuckin father sends his little girl to the arse end of Camden Town to deal with his fuckin problems?" "You want my advice little girl, if i were you I'd stay right here, with this here mad old man... Cause i reckon he would know how to take care of you properly..."

🐻 So you have a choice, give into the feelings and desires which have been plaguing you since you first met him, or spit in his face and tell him you'd rather die... And this is a man who just might offer you deal or death, thats how much he's his heart and mind set on you.

🐻 "Oh and Tommy, Tommy my old mate, did i tell you, just a little warning yeah, and i know you wouldnt ever think about crossing your dear old friend right but... If that thought ever does come flittering and fluttering into your whimsical gypsy boy brain... Just remember, ive got Mafia connections these days right... So i wouldnt if i were you... "

Arthur

🍂 Shits himself when he sees you pull a gun on a man in one of the Shelby bars in London.

🍂 Arthurs been sent to keep control of them and here you are, a fucking woman... With your gun raised to the eyes of one of his patrons.

🍂 When he steps in "alright alright is someone gonna tell me what the fuck is going on here?" and you answer him cold and simple "This english pig called me a very unpleasant slur and that... Mr Shelby, i won't tolerate..."

🍂 You shoot the man in the head right there in front of everyone. Screaming errupts and chaos and panic set in but you just stand there, strong arm still outstretched. Finger still on the trigger.

🍂 Arthur just gapes at you in shock, hes never seen a woman shoot someone, the fact that youre so glamourous looking too... From afar hed have mistaken you for one of the toffee nosed london elites who usually come to dance and drink in his bars because theyve heard they are dangerous and riddled with gangsters.

🍂 But now it seems, he recognises that accent of yours, turns out youre the gangster.

🍂 "Sorry about the mess Mr Shelby," you give him a quick smile and knock the body on the floor with your foot and turn to leave.

🍂 "Well, hang on a minute love hang on a minute you can't just..." "let me stop you there Mr Shelby..." hes not heard that slanted italian american accent on a woman before but he likes it, "i ain't your love... And i can actually... The evidence is soaking blood into your beautifully varnished floor..."

🍂 He gets into a lot of trouble with Tommy for letting you slip off unpunished, for letting the whole thing happen in the first place...but arthur doesnt see how he could have done anything different.

🍂"You weren't fuckin there Tommy, you didnt fuckin see her..."

🍂 He spends a lot of time tormented with daydreams of you, wants to see you again because hes got it bad for you... Even has a particularly steamy dream about fucking you whilst you hold your gun to his head.

🍂 So when you come back to his bar not a week later with a little white flag you made yourself, hes stunned and speechless and he doesnt know what to say. You say youve come to offer him a peace offering, just between you and him.

Its a little white flag and a little vile of white powder which is his on the condition that he shares it with you.

🍂 So you end up getting high together and fucking, and recreating that hot and heavy dream of his.

John

🌼 Deeply suspicious of you, doesn't trust the italians. You aren't pleasant to eachother to begin with at all.

🌼 You refuse to call eachother by name, hes a "pikey" you're a "wop" and thats that. You resent eachother.

🌼 Which is a shame because Tommy only introduced you before the wedding as an act of mercy to his little brother...

🌼 When you walk down the aisle dressed in white, veil covering your scowl John feels his heart freeze.

🌼 Of course he can't be too unhappy, you are fucking stunning... Your olive skin, your long dark hair, theres something almost virgin Mary about you, especially when youre all in white and pure...

🌼 And you would be lying if you tried to pretend you didnt find the gypsy boy to be good looking. His freckles are cute. He's strong, bulkier than any of those italian boys that have been sucking up to your father hoping for your hand all these years. John looks like a man who might be able to handle you

🌼 But hes still a pikey and youre still a wop and you refuse to say a word to him the whole day of your wedding. You fucking hate your father and you fucking hate tommy shelby

🌼 And in the end thats what draws you and John together. Mutual resentment for the men who forced you together.

🌼 Consumating the marriage is intense... When youre alone together youre both pretty much pretending you don't want it, spitting insults at eachother, hate in your eyes as he backs you up against the wall and you tell him youd sooner die than let a fucking pikey get his hands on you.

🌼 Pisses him off "That can be arranged love don't you fuckin worry," the two of you reaching for your guns at the same time. Challenging eachother, neither one of you backing down, eyes locked, fingers on triggers.

🌼Until something overwhelms you both at once and you can't resist anymore. When you come together its violent and explosive. John enjoys the thought hes tarnishing you, taking your purity, vandalising your virginal self... And you enjoy being fucked against the wall, your hands squeezing his throat, choking him.

🌼 After this the dust begins to settle on your hatred for one another... Youre more united against Tommy and your father than you are against eachother. But you like to keep up the pretence. Its like a fun game you have, pretending to hate eachother then having intense the most intense sex when youre alone. Youre always trying to push the boundaries, testing eachother.

🌼 You still affectionately refer to eachother by your respective slurs but see if anyone else ever tried it... If anyone ever called you a wop, john would put a bullet in them quicker than lightnight, and if anyone ever insulted him for his blood, youd be the one firing your gun.

🌼 John enjoys the way people fear you, he likes having a dangerous wife by his side.

🌼 You like having a dangerous man by your side, one who isn't so sleezy and american and preocupied with their looks... You think hes a real man.

Bonnie

🍀 Poor sweet innocent boy has no idea who you are when he first meets you... And thats partly your fault because you do lie to him.

🍀Youre actually sick of people being so scared of you, you dont think they are really scared of you, you think they are scared of your father... Which isnt fair... Its making it impossible to find a man and pretty soon youre certain your fathers going to arrange your marriage to some sleeze in another mafia family for the good of the lineage anyway

🍀 When you meet Bonnie Gold after one of his fights which Ada Shelby snuck you into, he has no idea about your family, but you know everything about his... And you see one thing in him...

🍀 Escape. You don't want to be a mafia princess anymore. Like Ada you want to shed your family name and be your own person.

🍀 So when you're introduced after the fight you beg him to take you away, to help you dissappear. And him being naive and you being very fucking pretty, he's more than happy to oblige.

🍀 After his fight the two of you disappear together for several weeks, hes no idea of the trouble hes getting himself into, and youre naively trying to pretend this can last forever

🍀You love the nomadic life style, the not knowing where you'll be tomorrow or a week from now, the knowing that nobody can find you, that no one you meet knows a single thing about you. And you like the simplicity too...

🍀Bonnie can tell that youre hiding something from him but he isnt sure what and he trusts that youll tell him eventually... For you to be friends with Ada Shelby, for you to have been so desperate to get away from London... He knows that you have a darkness inside you... But like i said he trusts you... And he's seen a soft and innocent side to you.

🍀Over the weeks you spend travelling together you grow closer and closer. At night you sleep under the stars, wrapped up together in his big coat with a blanket over you both. In the morning you awake with the birds and he teaches you to hunt and to cook wild rabbit. You fall for eachother slowly. When you share your first kiss you feel guilty, you almost cry and he can tell youre upset.

🍀 "Don't be sad little dove, i know you're keeping secrets, i don't mind... You can tell me all your secrets when you're ready,"

🍀 When you return he takes you to meet his father, to tell him you want to be married, that youre in love which makes Aberama laugh. He thinks it hilarious because he can tell that his son still has no idea who you are.

🍀"Well miss youve certainly caused a lot of trouble without trying haven't you..." it turns out your father didnt take kindly to your disappearence.. The italians have been threatening the whole country trying to find you...

🍀 Bonnie is surprised, but quietly pleased... Not just with himself for having a mafia princess fall in love with him, but also because hes in awe of your defiance, this trick youve played on everyone including him... He thought you were sweet and innocent but here you are, a mafia princess whos brought the whole underground crime scene in britain to a grinding halt.

🍀 "Do you hate me Bon? I lied to you... Could get you fuckin killed? I understand if you never want to..." "Don't finish that sentence little dove," him hushing you, hand holding your cheek, thumb to your lips, "Don't need to finish that sentence," kissing you softly is the only answer you need.

🍀The first time he sees you pull a gun on anyone the man in question is your own father. Hes come to bring you home but you wont go... Bonnie is there as a peaky boy, standing with Michael and Isaiah watching and keeping his mouth shut. He knows hes dead if anyone clocks who he is. Your father threatens to kill every gypsy boy he meets until he finds the one whose stolen you... But you stand your ground.

🍀 "i wont lose my daughter to a fucking pikey..." "Then tell people I'm dead," you turn the gun on yourself your eyes locked with your father, your burning with defiance, a truly formidable lass, "I'd sooner blow my own brains out than continue to call you my fucking father..."

🍀 And its the fact he cant tell if youre bluffing that makes him back down. He gives in but tells you that theres no backing out, he'll tell the whole world youre dead, but you are dead, to him, theres no coming back. But you don't back down.

🍀"Your girls a fuckin terror Bonnie lad, hope youre going to tame her," Isaiah laughing eith Michael after the whole affair. "I fucken won't," Bonnies pretty much stubborn about that, he loves your defiance and hes proud cause he knows Isaiah and Michael are secretly terrified of you. Women who don't fear death are the most formidable creatures.

🍀 "You're incredible dove, that was incredible..." "but... You promise me now, you'll never point one of these things at that pretty little head of yours ever again..."

Isaiah

🐀Definitely bitten off more than he can chew. He's in love with you before he even realises whats happened to him.

🐀Doesn't know what to do with himself because for all his arrogance and confidence, he knows a girl of mafia blood is so far out of his league.

🐀Youre in London because your father has business with Tommy Shelby, and your father refuses to travel to the shithole which is Birmigham

🐀You came along for the legal drinking, the shopping and to see what all the fuss about "English" men was...

🐀And you don't think much of any of them at first... Most have them are a little ugly, badly dressed, dirty, with funny accents... And Isaiah has a funny accent but, he's good looking, and he has the cocky nature of any american boy youve ever met.

🐀He gets tasked with chaperoning you much to your delight... Less to your delight you know that one of your fathers men is trailing you too, just to make sure nothing bad happens, that this Peaky Boy doesnt try anything funny with you.

🐀You find it all bitterly amusing, youre a woman, not a mouse. If this Peaky Boy wants to try anything funny with you, just let him try, its you who will see to it he doesn't get very far...

🐀Although the idea of getting up to no good with an english gangster, one your father hates... Well its appealing to say the least. You're a bit of a brat, used to getting your own way, used to doing as you please and facing little consequences later...

🐀So you suggest to your new peaky boy that you both lose your dads man, you ask him to take you through the back streets until your fathers men can't find you... And isaiah knows he shouldnt but hes sensed the mood youre in and he cant pass up the opportunity to go too far with you. He wants to get into trouble with you... He has a feeling that Mafia girls fuck harder, more dangerously.

🐀"You wanna get into trouble Peaky Boy? My father will kill you for this? Aren't you scared?" "Not fuckin scared of anyone me sweetheart," "Fine, do your worst Peaky Boy..."

🐀It doesnt last too long because you don't have much time but its hot and heavy and rough... And its the best you've ever had, maybe thats just the adrenaline of knowing youre up to know good, the adrenaline of risking someone elses life for your own pleasure...

🐀And you do get caught, you suppose if you were being honest with yourself then you'd always known you would be.

🐀You get caught with Isaiahs cock still inside you, he's fucking you against the wall and youre not even being that quiet about it... your fathers man goes to shoot at Isaiah but you get there first, your shot killing your fathers man in a second...

🐀Isaiah is stunned, almost drops you but he doesnt want to dissapoint you so he tightens his grip, hes scared too, youre in so much fucking trouble and if anyone finds out what just happened Tommy will kill him before your father does...

🐀"Don't go soft on me Peaky Boy I'm only just getting started..." you practically growl, grinding your hips into his, and Isaiah isnt about to let you go, so he channels is fear and his amazement into fucking you twice as hard, growling to you about how much trouble youre going to get him into.

🐀But obviously its fucking worth it.

🐀You make him take you shopping afterwards and you return to your father with so many pretty dresses and shoes. A new red lipstick too.

🐀He obviously wants to know what happened, why his man hasn't returned with you and you speak before Isaiah can...

🐀"oh did you have someone following me daddy? We didn't notice anyone? Did you Isaiah?" the boy cant believe what hes hearing right now, youre asking him to lie not just to your father, but his own boss too... Still he does, after that day hes sure hed do anything you asked him to.

🐀You also make up a little story of your own, about how you were threatened by a man, someone tried to disresepct your dignity, you tell him Isaiah took his eyes for the insult and your father is quite satisfied that Tommys boy can keep you safe... So next time you want to go out, your father makes the condition that Isaiah has to go with you.

🐀Which you're quite happy with.

🐀"Youre gonna be the death of me love,"

🐀 So much of the time youre the one causing problems, getting yourself into scraps, because youre used to being a mafia princess, no one back home would dare say a word to you but over here so many of the men don't understand who you are... You wont stand for their shit

🐀So Isaiah does end up taking peoples eyes for you... Most of the time however its you that does the killing. Youre a real violent little brat it doesnt take much for you to decide to pull that trigger...

🐀Isaiah hasnt told any of his mates about what the two of you get up to when you get eachother alone... Its difficult for him to keep this to himself, usually he'd be bragging to high heaven about laying a woman like you... But he's keeping quiet because he knows it'll be you who kills him if he speaks.

Michael

☘️Meets you in America when hes been sent away by tommy... Hes harbouring that bitterness towards his cousin when he finds himself in dealings with the mafia on his brothers behalf.

☘️His life in America is good... He might not be there of his own free will, he might not be allowed to come back, but hes making it work, hes a feared gangster, a powerful and dangerous man

☘️And hes starting to get ideas above his station... Hes met you several times, youre always in his speakeasies drinking, getting snowed up and demanding Shelby gin on the house, your name affords you everything you want after all

☘️And he thinks you're another one of those pretty, espensive things he'd like to add to his collection.

☘️Youd be a real status changer for him, he could use you to win his feud with Tommy, finally be more powerful than his cousin...

☘️ And you're attracted to the brooding English man who runs this part of the city... He does dealings with your father so you know hes a real player in this game, hes dangerous too... And perhaps the only man arrogant enough not to fear the barrel of your fathers gun.

☘️Youve been going to Michaels bars and acting out, getting too drunk and causing fights because you want to get his attention. Its a childish way to attract a man but you know men like Michael Gray, you know that what they want is a possession, something they can tame, put in its place. Teach to be obedient. They like the challenge and secretly they like it when a woman threatens their ego and misbehaves.

☘️And you're right, youve read him like a book... He approaches you one evening at the bar and well, hes stern, hes aggressive, hes almost... Almost fucking rude to you...

☘️ "Miss y/l/n I'd like a word..." "Take your pick Mr Gray, how about two, fuck... Off..." "Don't test me love... You're going to come back to my office with me now, youre going to come quietly and then we're going to talk... And we can talk nicely or you can keep up with whatever this childish little act is alright? But you're going to come with me and we're going to have a little chat alright about the kind of behaviour which is and isnt acceptable in my establishment... "

☘️"Who the fuck do you think you are Mr Gray... Do you have any idea who i am?" "I know youre a little mafia brat with no manners... Anything else?"

☘️ Drags you by the wrist into his office where he practically pushes you down into a chair.

☘️ Stands before you and actually lectures you about your behaviour... About how he isnt going to stand for it anymore...

☘️" So whatre you going to do about it Mr Gray?" youre so cheeky, a real brat, but youre being provocative too... You know what you want from him and as you speak you open your legs just enough to catch his attention.

☘️ "So youre a whore as well as a brat are you?" this actually shocks you, you flush a little but youre idignant and you hold your ground. "Is that what you'd like me to be Mr Gray?"

☘️ He's going to teach you to behave, one way or another... And the only way he manages to is by fucking you into submission... Thats the only way he can get you to behave yourself for him, the only way he can make you beg his forgiveness...

☘️ Outside of the bedroom though youre still a spoilt brat and he doesnt help the fact, he buys you gifts, courts you properly, makes all the right moves on both you and your father

☘️Until eventually your father is convincrd that marrying you off to Michael Gray is the best business move he could possibly make.

☘️ So youre handed over to him on a silver fucking platter and though you pretend to remain defiant "Dont think this means I'm going to behabe myself Mr Gray..." secretly youre thrilled, this is exactly what you wanted.

☘️You want him to take you back to england with him, you want to meet the infamous Tommy Shelby... And when he finally takes you "home" dont be surprised hes showing you off like a pretty piece of jewellery...

☘️And should he really be surprised when Tommy catches your eye, when you realise that there are men more rich, more powerful and more dangerous than Michael Gray for you to persue.

☘️Threatens you, "you fuckin touch my cousin you little brat, I'll kill you..." but this jealousy, this new passion in him turns you on and so you find yourself caught trying to balance two men. Youre being selfish, youre taking everything you want, no matter who gets hurt.

Hope you liked them lovely ❤️❤️

[redrobbingabank]

The Kids are Not Alright

Tommy was in his house when the sirens started. He’d been visiting Shroud. It was a good day. Now, cold, indescribable terror is flooding through him as he sits on the floor, head pressed between his knees. Rocking back and forth, Tommy drags in breath after breath and never registers the oxygen. 

Dream escaped. Dream escaped. Holy fucking shit, Dream escaped.

Sam had promised. He’d promised that wouldn’t happen. Pandora’s Vault was the most secure place on the server, the only place Dream couldn’t get out of. He’d been so sure of it that he’d been willing to let Tommy rot inside to protect its integrity.

He should have known it wasn’t true. 

He needed to get up. He couldn’t get up. He needed to run. He could hardly breathe. He had to get Tubbo and Ranboo out. He didn’t know where they were. The sirens were still screaming, screaming, screaming.

There were tears on his cheeks. “No, no no no no no no no,” Tommy murmured, finally bringing himself to look up at Shroud. The spider was unaffected, watching him from the ceiling. He focused on Shroud, and slowly, slowly, his breathing evened. 

He had to get Tubbo. Dream was probably looking for him oh god Dream was probably already looking for him breathe breathe breathe, he had to get Tubbo and Ranboo and Wilbur thought Dream was good run far, far away.

He shoved himself to his feet, turned on his heel, and ran at full tilt for the tunnel to Snowchester. They had to get away this time. They had to. He couldn’t survive it again.

Las Nevadas was quiet, for a casino town. Tubbo served plenty of burgers, for sure, but today it was empty except for the inhabitants, eating lunch alone despite knowing each other for months. It looked a bit stupid to him, everyone sitting alone at a table with nothing to occupy them but their food, silence reigning.

The exception was Fundy. He sat at the bar, holding a drink Tubbo wasn’t entirely sure he was old enough to serve and ignoring his burger. 

“So you’ve been here for like… what, three weeks?” he asked Tubbo. There were massive bags under his eyes. Tubbo didn’t think he’d ever seen his old colleague look so bad. Well, he guessed they were colleagues again.

“Yeah.” Tubbo shrugged and stole a fry. Quackity wasn’t there to yell at him. “You?”

“Few months.” Fundy sounded like he had to drag every word out of his mouth, slumping to prop his head up with a hand. “I don’t even know how he found me. I was living pretty far away.”

Tubbo nodded silently. He glanced over at the table in the corner, where Purpled was definitely eavesdropping. He was too tense, his head turned a little too far to be normal for someone minding their own business. 

The doors slammed open so hard the glass cracked. Tubbo whipped around, half expecting DreamXD himself to enter, but it was only Quackity. 

Maybe not only. Tubbo’s friend’s face was wild, a maniacal smile fixed on his mouth that reminded Tubbo of that day on the mountain with Dream. He took half a step back. Fundy, who’d flinched at the noise, was eyeing the counter like he had half a mind to jump over it to hide.

“Everyone’s in here, right?” Quackity looked around, doing a quick headcount. “Great.” A scarily gleeful laugh bubbled up. “Team meeting, everyone! Gather round, everyone!”

Fundy, Foolish, and Slime all complied pretty quickly, with varying degrees of bounciness. Purpled and Tubbo took a few moments longer, giving Quackity wary glances before slowly moving towards the center table. Tubbo pulled off his apron and left it on the counter. His hand itched to hold his sword.

Hair had come out of Quackity’s beanie, now resting only halfway on his head. He ran a hand through it, looking around at them all. “So, I don’t know if you’ve noticed––” His voice rang out, echoing off the diner’s walls “––But Dream’s escaped.”

He kept talking, but Tubbo didn’t hear, frozen and listening. His ears were always ringing, ever since the festival. It was an ever-present reminder of the explosions. But as he focused, letting himself hear all of it, the sounds separated. 

There was the ringing that was always there, electric and loud. Then there was the quieter, more distant, more urgent ring of the Vault’s sirens.

Ranboo. Tommy. Michael. Snowchester. 

Quackity must have been too absorbed in his rant, because he didn’t stop Tubbo as he walked, trancelike, out of the diner. The sun hit him hard. He blinked in the direction of the burger van. Empty. Ranboo usually visited Michael around this time. Snowchester it was, then.

It wasn’t hard to leave Las Nevadas behind. Tubbo had never gotten anything from it past a paycheck. It felt empty, a cooperation where L’Manberg had been a family. 

His family wasn’t here. Tubbo needed to make sure they were safe

There was dust on Ranboo’s armor. It was always like that after a mining trip. He’d have to clean it soon, but at the moment he was too tired, and it was time to visit Michael. 

The snow in the Arctic Commune reflected sunlight directly into his eyes as he stepped outside, but Ranboo was used to it. He was not used to the people who greeted him. Techno and Phil stood on the bridge between their houses. Techno and Phil. It had been months since Techno left, and the worry that had been accumulating broke away like a chunk of ice. Ranboo dropped the grass block he’d been messing with.

“Techno!” he called, running through the snow to reach them. His legs sank down to the shins in the drifts.

Techno turned around at the decidedly clumsy approach. He looked like he hadn’t seen the sun in weeks, but when he saw Ranboo, he grinned. “Hello,” he called back. 

Ranboo dashed up the steps and stopped in front of him. “Where were you, man?” he asked, slightly out of breath.

Phil and Techno exchanged a look. “I’ve been gathering intel,” Techno said finally. “I’m gonna tell everyone about it, but we need to get Niki here so everyone can hear.”

“Oh. Alright.” Ranboo started to move back in the direction of the portal. “I’ve got some stuff I need to take care of in the SMP, so, uh…” he glanced at Phil, who knew where he was really going, and finger-gunned in the portal’s direction. “I’m gonna head out.”

“Cool. Oh, wait, Ranboo!” Techno said quickly.

“Yeah.”

“Just, uh. You’ve got problems with Dream, right?” 

Instantly, Ranboo’s skin started crawling. He dragged his thoughts away from the panic room, from Mellohi, from the voice that wasn’t Dream, and the visit Sam said he made. He nodded slightly. “Yeah?”

“Right. Uh, I’m gonna need you to trust me here, dude. When you get to the SMP, someone might tell you Dream’s out of the prison.” Phil looked sharply at him. Ranboo stopped breathing, and Techno held up his hands quickly. “Woah, woah, calm down, it’s fine. He’s not actually out. They just think he is, I promise. I saw him in there myself, okay?”

Did the world feel like it was collapsing in on itself? Yes. But did Ranboo trust Techno to tell him the truth? Yes. 

Ranboo backed down the stairs and picked up a grass block from beneath the snow. He held it close to his chest. “You promise?”

“Cross my heart and hope to die, Ranboo.” Techno looked him dead in the eye. “Dream is still in the prison.”

“Then I trust you.” Ranboo turned towards Snowchester. “I really have to go now, though.” He had to find Tubbo and Tommy and make sure they were safe. He had to tell them it wasn’t real. “See you.”

Nerves battled with determination as Ranboo started the trek through the snow, then decided it would take too long and pulled out his ender pearls. Techno would explain, but until then, he’d probably stay away from the prison. He didn’t know what the sirens would do if he heard them.

[druid-for-hire]

new hadestown au: BIKER ! EURYDICE, in which she’s a rogue lone-wolf biker dwelling in the urban jungle of a Neo Tokyo-type city called Hadestown, wracked with biker gangs, violence, poverty, corruption, and civil unrest, still recovering and rebuilding from an apocalyptic event many years ago. Heavy-handed with the AKIRA inspirations here, haha.

She fights for herself on the dangerous streets, an illegal racer with a consistent top-three placement and a reputation for ferocity that earns her the money she needs to scrape by. And then she meets Orpheus: a dopey bartender who has no place being in her business.

okay okay okay i’m gonna be jumping around a lot here. be warned. thanks @supercantaloupe, @regzillas, @birdmanlyss for your contributions! (sorry if i missed someone it’s been a while)

she's a lone wolf in a city infested with biker gangs and it's brutal

she's run over plenty of limbs in her day

then there's orpheus, this gentle, kind-hearted soul, an indie musician and shes like. fuck. now i gotta keep this bastard safe

puts a long pipe with a mess of bolts and metal on the end in his hands and tells him he'd better buckle up and learn to fight the road

this sort of thing is common among biker gangs to cause destruction and knock people off their bikes onto the road. other types include mallets, hammers, baseball bats, etc

shes small but knows a lot of self defense and is very good at handling herself on the road

besides teaching orpheus to steel himself and yes use that pipe on people, push them off and jam it in their wheels and let it break if it does, she's gotta teach him to hold on while she pulls all this crazy shit on her bike

she avoids taking him on the road because having to fight people gives him so much stress but he also stresses about her so it's all weird

the first time orpheus sees her run over someones arm hes like ""???????????????????!!!!!!!!"

"Don't worry it doesn't happen often" "WHAT IS 'OFTEN'"

she has a red songbird on her helmet and flowers on her jacket

and flowers painted on her bike too probably

or patterns like on the album cover

orpheus thinks it’s the prettiest shit he’s ever seen

so eurydice races, right? everyones like “who is this tiny little upstart” and then she takes off her helmet and shakes out her hair and everyone loses it

somethingsomething ig hades (who is something of a crime boss here, similar to Tombstone from the Spectacular Spider-Man cartoon, but not so unambiguously villainous in nature) becomes a contractor and he catches her in like, a bad contract that's hard to get out of without some kind of consequence

and now orpheus has to topple a capitalist again

anyway she like, meets orpheus in this little bar he works at

it's about lower middle class, so it's not too bad but it's still mostly populated by like, poorer people and bikers, etc.

they meet and it's cool and fun blah blah Come Home With Me shit

also this is a scene:

biker!eury: we gotta cross through downtown orpheus: what???? but there's a riot going on there! right now! eury: that's too bad, it's the fastest way! that's why you get this! (tosses him her pipe weapon) orpheus, barely catching it: sajskhsfdfs ???? eury: and i am gonna take this. (kicks open a trunk and takes out a rifle) orpheus: ???????!!!!???!?? WHERE DID YOU GET THAT AND DO WE REALLY NEED IT eury: Yes we do now come on orpheus: H-HOW did you get it eury: (loads gun) no worries orpheus: No i have many worries HOW DID YOU--

actually, on this emergency ride, orpheus proves surprisingly competent with her pole weapon—ruthless even, and eurydice wonders just where and how the hell he learned that

the conversation she has with him about that is the same one where he shows her his old, old scars

(besides ruthless—orph has apparently learned how to pose and intimidate. he does stuff like putting the tip of the pole-pipe to the asphalt as they’re riding, skipping on the road and creating sparks)

eurydice loves her bike more than certain relatives 

certain complications lead to it being destroyed by hades as punishment for doing him wrong. and it destroys her. that is her most trusted sacred bike, that thing has been with her since she was a teenager

once she repurposes that devastation into white-hot anger orph has to physically restrain her from hunting hades down and breaking his kneecaps with a thick lead pipe

he's never seen her this absolutely devastated and furious

he goes to persephone for more work because he wants to buy eurydice a new bike

he keeps it a secret from her until he leads her out to a garage, hands over her eyes

(some of these bits are copypasted from my friend @regzillas​)

orpheus takes his hands off and says Tada!!! it's just like the old one, there's no painted birds but she can do that. She just stands there in total silence mouth open, and orpheus goes 'so? do you like it?' before she bursts into tears. and at first orpheus is like :O!!!!! oh no!!! do you not like it? and eurydice through sobs just says 'nobody's ever done something like this for me’

it's... beautiful, it's touching, it's deep and it's love and she's so in love and she loves him so much, and she cries and holds him close and takes him in and she's so overwhelmed by her emotions, full of the care that orpheus so freely gives to her; and it's a breath of newness, fresh air in the cycle of dread and bitter anger that haunts the city (but she's still going to find hades and shoot him in the foot)

he just holds her and kisses her head

they spend the day painting it, the day after he buys the bike

hand-painted. and they both leave their handprints in paint on it, like carl and ellie do on their mailbox in the beginning of Up

a significant amount of time is spent thinking of a good name

theres lots of joking and eurydice playfully shoves orpheus and he falls over into paint

okay i wrote something like. Obnoxiously long for orpheus. i sort of have his backstory in this down, but i don’t have anything for eurydice unfortunately :( suggestions are welcome! but first: Hermes

biker!au hermes owns a chain of bars, several of which find their patronage among the ruffian youth, several of which are more refined and serve the middle class, and another several of which serve the upper crust hermes has a hand in every world and it serves him pretty well, and his chain is a bit of a channel of communication and its unspoken rule that whatever socioeconomic class or gang or organization you're a part of, hermes' chain is neutral territory no fighting allowed

eurydice walks in and hermes just gives her a Look and taps the 'no fighting' sign and she huffs

hes >:( if anyone does try to start shit. the honor system is strong enough that usually the other patrons will just throw them out, and if there are really problems, they'll hear from hermes personally

he maintains a very strict "no bitching in my fucking kitchen" atmosphere

and now, Orpheus

this really is kind of akira but without the government conspiracies; the city is a neon corrupt hellscape that’s still struggling to rebuild after an apocalyptic event that wiped it all through. the city is wracked with frustration and violence and anger, there are still urban ruins everywhere and the scars of rebuilding and struggle are plain in every corner of life; plain to see are the shells of ruined buildings, gigantic boats levelled from the sea and left in the middle of inland sectors.

orpheus was abandoned by his mother at an early age—kind and timid, he had to learn fast how to be suspicious and cautious in cruel ways. he couldn’t land himself a spot in any of the groups that other ragtag raging folks had eked out for themselves, still too hesitant or ungraceful or young for any of them. sure, he made friends, sitting and talking with lots of people, but never got to really team up—all he could do was just fight for himself in the blown out corners of the city. weapons made from whatever he had. a young child already spitting blood and teeth in hadestown’s vicious ground-floor landscape.

hermes is his mother’s close old friend, though the times they see each other are few and far between. when he saw him, hermes hardly recognized her son, wild-eyed and clawed and alone in one of the city’s more dangerous neighborhoods, with a pole full of screws slung over his back. how did she lose track of her kid for so long? he thinks. and takes him in.

hermes eventually realizes that his mother didn’t lose him. meanwhile, tiny orpheus, kind-hearted orpheus, despises hermes at first. he’s full of suspicion and desperately wants to lean into hermes’ kindness, but the streets have taught him to hold back. he spits curses at him, though the words slide right off hermes’ shoulders. it’s not genuine.  just frustrated. and picked off of the delinquents that were his friends, just like most everything else about him.

(hermes knows he’s gotten his trust when orpheus starts getting soft, when he’s crying over littler things; it means he’s been deemed safe to be vulnerable around, and he damn near starts crying himself.)

orpheus owns a little vespa! it’s covered in stickers, some of them worn out and old, some places with just the adhesive and the fuzzy white paper from where he tried to pull them off. some of them aren’t even proper stickers and just shit he peeled off from places while he was wandering around and stuck onto the vespa

even in canon i see him as the kind of guy who like. you look at him and think jesus how is this guy still alive he’s so noodly and soft, but he’s unexpectedly sort of street smart

anyway i mentioned this before but didn’t elaborate. biker au orph, to eury's surprise, does have his collection of scars, since he had a bit of a rough go at life

also he’s just ungainly and runs into shit

you can see em on his sketch page. he has a bit more than what’s shown, but what’s visible is a little slash across the bridge of his nose onto his cheek, and two on his left forearm. he probably has a stab scar in his side from just getting fucking knifed. the ones on his left forearm are from when a drunk coming out of a bar charged him with a fork

eurydice also has scars. kind of hard not to with the kind of life she lives

ok thats it. For Now. i don’t know how persephone or the fates or the workers factor in, if at all. I barely know how Hades factors in, mostly what i’ve said so far and that he does what he does to support himself and persephone. ah well! just have this

as this is extremely based off of AKIRA, i verily recommend listening to the movie’s soundtrack. besides the fact that it slaps hard as hell, the opening song, Kaneda’s Theme, has the perfect vibes for the city and the tone of eurydice and orpheus riding at night through it

[imnotwolverine]

Nerdflirt

Henry Cavill x reader twoshot (1/2)

Word count: 2.768

Disclaimer: tiny, tiny hint of fluff

Summary: There’s apparently a bit more involved than just paint and innocent flirting, when you meet a stranger on Instagram with a shared hobby. 

Find the second part here.

This story is based on a prompt I received from @aestheticqueenb

(Link to my Masterlist)

‘Maybe, you can like…I don’t know…find some new hobby or something?’

Your friend had said it more as an after thought during your Zoom chat, but here you were. Thinking yet again if she was perhaps right. A new hobby. It’s not like you hadn’t tried to find some diversion in these strange times. Like. You had ordered some of these picture paint books for adults since they were all the rage, but you had grown bored of them again.

Heck. You had even asked your boss if you could help him out while stuck at home. But apparently the restaurant business was really on its ass and you’d just have to wait for things to settle down and regulations to become less restricting.

This whole COVID-19 thing had initially seemed like a bit of a fad. Like some sick joke that nobody stopped at the right time. It was just a fever, right? Well, apparently…it wasn’t. You could still remember the moment all too well when you were sent home, told to wait for news. Hours passed. Days passed. Weeks passed. But there was no sign of things soon to improve.

And thus you resorted to adult colouring books and sulking away on your desk chair.

Stretching out you pushed the chair away from your desk, the tiny wheels immediately halting as you bumped against your bed. Oh yes, it was also good to mention you were slowly losing your mind because your studio apartment was SOO friggin’ small you couldn’t stretch as much as a foot without bumping into a piece of furniture.

Not a problem when you have a social life. But very much a problem when you hadn’t. Usually you worked a lot, went out with friends, enjoyed to go for a run. And home? Home was just a conveniently placed bed in the middle of London.

Now, however, it was a constricting prison that seemed to strip away your sanity piece by piece.

As had become second nature by now you opened your phone, fingers automatically refreshing the front news page. Scroll, scroll, scroll. No new news. Then your e-mail. No new e-mails. Then perhaps look for some “inspiration” - whatever you needed that for - on Pinterest? Scroll, scroll, scroll. Okay, no, this is dumb. Going back to the mainscreen your thumb hovered over the Instagram button. 

You honestly didn’t like the app much. Fake people. Fake fun lives. It just wasn’t your cuppa tea. And yet you never got so far as deleting it since you did enjoy seeing baby pictures of your baby niece.

Okay, fine, maybe there were some new pictures or something. It wasn’t like you had anything better to do and so you opened the app, only to be confronted with a somewhat confusing image. What’s this? A large pair of hands painting an absolutely tiny polystyrene figurine. Why is this on your timeline? Your eyes gazed up, even more confused when you read the name “Henry Cavill” above it. Pfft. Probably some attention whoring from another bored superstar. You shook your head and scrolled on, eventually giving up again.

You groaned, feeling the abyss of utter boredom suck you in once more, your eyes wandering to the world outside. It was sunny, a spotless blue sky, not a cloud in sight. Hilarious, ain’t it? It’s nice weather out in the UK and guess what? You’re stuck inside because the whole world is in lockdown.

So…now what? You just had lunch, your apartment was pristinely clean and you already went for a run this morning. You sighed and turned your chair back so you could awaken your trusty old friend again. Your laptop. Perhaps Google something random? See what you find? The internet’s your friend, right?

Open. Google. 

You bit your lip, thinking of something. Anything. But your mind was a blank.

Hmm. Oh. You know what. Maybe it’d be fun to know what kind of fake nerd Henry Cavill actually was.

You opened Instagram again and, of course, his post was back on the top of the timeline. It was almost too easy. #GamesWorkshop #ProperGeek #Custodes. Hmm, probably one of those three tags were the secret. You decided to enter “custodes”, since it sounded the least familiar and hit enter.

Before long you had dived head first into the miraculous world of Warhammer miniature strategy boardgaming and the most ludicrous, but fascinating lore. There was a medieval variant, a sci-fi variant and some ancient Rome and English civil war stuff. All including a well-thought out background story and even more figurines then you could count. Pretty cool figures too, you thought, haphazardly clicking on “order” while scrolling through one of the webshops.

Like it contained some kind of bomb, the mailman sprinted off, leaving the small package behind while you opened your door. Fuck this corona crisis. You couldn’t even..greet the fucking mailman.

Picking up the package you carefully moved it to your desk. Would they be fragile? How tiny could tiny really be? There was only one way to find out, you decided, picking up a pair of scissors and cutting open the small brown box.

Well. Okay. That’s tiny. Tiny tiny tiny. Perhaps you had been a bit too over enthusiastic about just randomly picking up a new hobby. Like..did you even need like special paint for this? Carefully you placed the kit sheets with the hundreds of tiny pieces in them on your desk and bit your lip, deciding what you’d do next. Tiny heads, guns, wings, all stuck in a meticulously thought out grid. Where to start? Perhaps look for some inspiration? Tips and tricks?

The internet is your friend.

Silly as it was you ended up scrolling through Instagram again, this time on the profile of some “SirEltharin” who posted daily updates on his miniature painting. And just like you, he had bought the Retributor Squad from the Adepta Sororitas, the all-female fighter division that were also known as “The Sisters of Battle”. Just thinking how ridiculous that sounded made you chuckle. Were you a nerd too now? Perhaps.

He just posted something new you noticed.

‘These ladies are hard to tame! Oops, painting accident..’ He posted, along with a picture of some smudged paint on one of the figurines. You chuckled, commenting without much of a second thought.

LadyGrim - ‘Well at least you started..I just can’t get myself to paint :X’ - 1 minute ago SirEltharin - ‘No need to be Grim, good Lady. What’s keeping you from starting?’ - 2 seconds ago

Hmm. He responded immediately. A smile reached the corners of your lips as you shrugged and typed again.

LadyGrim - ‘Painters limbo? No honestly it’s my first set and I’m out of my depth here.’ - 2 minutes ago

SirEltharin - ‘Well if large male hands can do it. Surely a Lady can do it too? ;)’ - 30 seconds ago

LadyGrim - ‘Size can be deceiving.’ - 2 seconds ago

Your eyes rested on the screen for a bit, hoping he’d respond, but eventually giving up. Your eyes turned towards the sheets with the figurine parts on the other side of your desk.

Welp, it’s not like anyone could judge you for trying, right?

You painted that whole day, finding it nerve wrecking and meditative all at the same time. You hadn’t even noticed that it was past dinner time, until your stomach really started to growl with hunger.

After cooking yourself a simple pasta dish you sat back on your desk chair, forking the pasta into your mouth while opening your phone to check on any news updates. No news. Mail. No mail. Pinterest? Skip. Instagram. Heck, why not.

*New message from SirEltharin* Hmm. A private message. You didn’t even know that you could send private messages in Instagram, but alas, perhaps you were just a failed millennial.

SirEltharin - ‘Hey :) Guess what? I totally screwed up that figurine and have to do it all over again. Started any painting yet?’ - 2 hours ago

LadyGrim - ‘Perhaps you gave me all your good luck? Just started and..maybe..it actually starts to look pretty cool?’ - 2 minutes ago

SirEltharin - ‘Which one did you start with?’ - 2 seconds ago

Damn, guess it wasn’t just you who was bored to bits. This guy was one fast responder.

LadyGrim - ‘The one with the book? At least, I think…. So many parts..’

SirEltharin - ‘Yea. Requires a bit of strategising hehe. Besides..holy fervour and good faith!’

LadyGrim - ‘So why did you chose the sisters? You’re a guy right?’

SirEltharin - ‘And that’s a problem? ;)’

LadyGrim - ‘No..’

SirEltharin - ‘Honestly though. They’re cool. Strong women.’

LadyGrim - ‘Who got betrayed by the man they promised to serve.’

SirEltharin - ‘Ah you read the lore? Yea..men are dicks haha ;)’

LadyGrim - ‘Can’t agree more.’

You back and forthed throughout the evening. Starting off with some Warhammer 40k related banter, but soon drifting off to talking about the Corona lockdown and the boredom that came with it. SirEltharin didn’t let off a whole lot about himself, which made your imagination run a little wild.

Perhaps it was this “milady” type of guy, that’d tip his hat at you, then grow annoyed as soon as you didn’t immediately fall in love with him. Or, maybe it was this skinny pimple-faced guy who only ever played female characters in games. Or a really, really fat guy. He did say large male hands. Large…could be fat? Or at least chubby? Ugh. What did it matter anyways. Men, you had decided, were always going to disappoint.

SirEltharin - ‘Hey, just curious by the way. Why did YOU decide to start painting?’

LadyGrim - ‘Are you asking just because I’m a girl? ;)’

SirEltharin - ‘Hardly. What do you even think of me?! ;)’

LadyGrim - ‘Okay. Don’t call me an idiot. But this movie star, Henry Cavill? He posted an image and though I absolutely think he’s one of those fake nerd celebrities who are in it for the attention, it did get me interested in the figurines..so..I just ordered and..here I am!’

He stopped responding after that. For the rest of the night. Did you say something wrong or did he just not see your message? Ah..whatever. It didn’t really matter. He was just some stranger on the internet. You started Netflix and crawled onto your bed, wasting away another evening bingewatching How I Met Your Mother.  

The next morning he had responded again. Around 5 am. Damn. Nerds ARE night owls, you thought, sipping your freshly brewn cup of french pressed coffee while leaning against your tiny kitchen block.

SirEltharin - ‘Can’t really say that without knowing him, right?’ - 3 hours ago

SirEltharin - ‘Anything in particular wrong with Henry Cavill?’ - 2 hours ago

LadyGrim - ‘Woa woa. No harm meant. Sorry. Guess I just don’t trust ‘em pretty boys?’ - 3 minutes ago

SirEltharin - ‘How’s that so? And good morning, Lady ;)’ - 2 seconds ago

You bit your lip and let out a deep sigh. Oh this man didn’t know what hellfire could come his way, opening THAT topic.

LadyGrim - ‘Good morning ..and..I doubt you’d be interested.’

SirEltharin - ‘You had my curiosity, but now you have my attention.’

LadyGrim - ‘Fine. Let’s just keep it plain and simple. Lied to, cheated on and continuously disappointed. Guess I’ll just have to become a lesbian?’

SirEltharin - ‘Don’t let a few bad ones ruin it for the rest of us. Has it been long?’

LadyGrim - ‘Long?’

SirEltharin - ‘Apologies. I mean. Since you last dated?’

LadyGrim - ‘A year or so.’

SirEltharin - ‘And how old are you? Or am I being too bold asking such a thing?’

LadyGrim - ‘It’s fine. Thirty. Had my birthday two weeks ago. So yea..becoming a bit of an old spinster hehe.’

SirEltharin - ‘Belated happy birthday and..hardly a spinster, right? I mean. I’m 37 and haven’t found anyone yet. Heck. I guess I’m the old spinster here haha.’

LadyGrim - ‘I doubt the same rules apply for men.’

SirEltharin - ‘Trust me. We are all judged.’

Weeks passed and you and Sir kinda started to really get to know each other. You both lived in London - how practical -, were pretty enthused about sports, liked dogs (he had one, you wished you had one) and were close knit with your family. You with your sister, who already had a few kids. And he with his brothers. All with kids. Teasingly you donned each other the nicknames ‘Uncle and Aunty Spinster’.

You knew he had looked on your account. Seen some pictures of you. Even made a few comments on them and liked everything new you posted. But he, SirEltharin, remained mostly a mystery. You tried to talk yourself out of your curiosity, but couldn’t help but lay in bed fantasising about him. The only body part you had seen of him to this point were his hands, and they were actually quite pretty hands. Well manicured nails, strong fingers. It meant he probably wasn’t SUPER fat. So. That’s something.

Eventually the COVID-19 related regulations were becoming less restrictive and for the first time in months you could go back to work. The very news had made you both reluctant - you liked this new rhythm of painting and chatting with SirEltharin -, but also happy. Finally getting out of your tiny apartment, finally getting back to work. It may require some getting used to again, but this was just what you really needed.

In your enthusiasm you posted a picture on Instagram of your work outfit as it lay neatly spread out on your bed sheets. Your boss had made some quirky shirts to celebrate the reopening of the restaurant: “Brunello’s back” was written in fancy white lettering on the back of the shirt. You giggled as SirEltharin liked it within a split second.

SirEltharin - ‘Back to work hmm?’

LadyGrim - ‘Yep. Its all fun and games until the rat race starts again.’

SirEltharin - ‘Sounds Grim ;)’

LadyGrim - ‘You know me too well Sir. Anyways gotta go. Bye!’

SirEltharin - ‘See ya.’

See ya. You always thought it weird when strangers said that at the end of an online chat. Clients sometimes said it at the end of a phone reservation. That was understandable though; they were to come to the restaurant. But complete strangers? There was no such thing as “seeing you around”. However in the case of SirEltharin you were willing to let it slip. He probably didn’t think anything of it.

For a first night it was already quite hectic at Brunello’s. The room, although still far less bustling than usual, was filled. People were obviously eager to pick up their social lives again, the animated chatter of guests zooming around the room while you paced past the neatly spaced white clothed tables. Brunello’s was a rather luxurious restaurant and mostly businessmen and well-to-do families and friends came here to wine and dine. Tonight was special though, as a few celebrities were sitting in the far corner. Including a familiar face: Mr. Cavill, your eyes immediately falling on him as he seemingly was giving you a questioning look.

Perhaps he just wanted to order some drinks, you thought, halting next to the table and offering them your most kind, professional smile - ignoring the curious pair of blue eyes that tracked your every move.

‘Good evening and welcome to Brunello’s. Is there anything I can help you with?’ You spoke, the sentence fluently tipping of your tongue, your eyes wandering slowly over the guests. Most of them were unfamiliar to you. And Mr. Cavill..you tried to just not give him any attention as he was still burning his eyes into you.

‘We actually could use some advice on the wine. We’d like to start white, slightly fruity, perhaps French? Though the Italian one also sounds quite nice.’ A small blonde woman spoke, peering over her menu card.

As this was not your expertise, you called for the sommelier, stepping back to make room for him. And all the while you felt those eyes, gazing at you, almost brazenly. What was up with this Mr. Cavill? Or did you maybe have something funny on your face and did nobody dare to tell you? Shyly you excused yourself, leaving the guests in the capable hands of the sommelier, and quickly made for the women’s bathroom to check your face. 

There was nothing out of sort when you looked into the mirror. Strange. 

Peeking quickly on your phone, a habit when you were alone, you noticed a new message popping up on your Insta-chat.

SirEltharin - ‘I think we need to talk.’ - 30 seconds ago

--

Go to part 2

[nalgenewhore]

With My Life - Chapter Four

masterlist - ao3 - last chapter - next chapter 

warnings:  (all graphic) violence, guns,  blood, smut, implied PTSD 

an: hmmm. hm. i don’t really know what to say about this chapter actually ! 

                                               Six Months Later

“Elide it’s fine already, go to lunch - you’ve been here all morning,” Darrow chided her from behind his desk. Elide flashed him a grin and scooped her papers up, resting them against her laptop. 

“I’m going, I’m going! Having lunch with that crazy niece of yours,” she teased, laughing as he rolled his eyes and waved her out of his office. 

She sighed as she closed the door behind her and went down the hall to her little office space. It was barely big enough to have her desk and one plant, let alone meetings so hers were held in Darrow’s more spacious room. 

After she put her stuff away and grabbed her jacket, Elide would be going to have lunch with Aelin, who’d she had only grown closer with over the past half year. Nehemia too - the three of them had a standing group night on Fridays where they would all convene in what was once Lorcan’s apartment and have a mellow night in. They used to go out more to clubs and bars, but Aelin hadn’t wanted to be out late or do any sort of partying for the past few months. 

It was slightly drizzling outside today - standard for fall in Varese - as she walked to her car. Even though she could’ve driven what was technically hers now, Elide had never liked driving Lorcan’s car. It lived in the parking garage and she kept it in tip-top shape, always running a finger over the black vehicle for dust. If she found any, she would carefully drive it to the car wash and top up whatever infinitesimal amount of gas she’d used.

Sometimes Fenrys came over to take it for a drive and Elide was always happy to let him take it. He always came back with red eyes to give her the keys back and Elide never questioned him. 

The drive to Emrys’ cafe was a fifteen-minute drive, all the way on the other side of the city from Elide’s school, but it was close to the studio that Aelin practiced and recorded music at so Elide never minded. 

She found a spot just behind Aelin’s green ‘67 Ferrari 275 and waited for a truck to pass before stepping out and locking her car. She looked both ways before jogging across the road and popping into the shop. 

As she put her jacket away, Elide scanned the cafe and saw Aelin had already claimed a two-seated table and had ordered them a drink each. She looked ridiculously happy and Elide couldn’t wait to find out why. Maybe she’d be able to worm it out of Aelin before their family dinner tonight. Because that’s what they were now - family. 

Aelin stood to hug her when Elide arrived at the table and they both sat down again, smiling gently. “Elide, babes, how are you? How’s that boring uncle of mine?” 

“Darrow’s great, as usual,” Elide said with a slight eye roll at their dramatics. Darrow had always claimed to be above such things, but his flair for the dramatics rivaled Aelin’s. “My research is going well, too. I’ve really narrowed down my thesis proposal, so it’s looking up.” After… it happened, Elide’s work had taken a hit. 

She hadn’t been able to think about going to school until she imagined what Lorcan would say. How he would cajole her into going and how he would neg her until she did. 

It had been hard after that too, but she still went. Still paid as much attention as she could bear and was almost present in most conversations. 

She loathed to admit, it tore at her heart to say it, but things were getting easier. Every day, every moment it was easier to breathe. To smile and sleep and to live. In a world without him, in a world where it became just a bit more difficult to find something that reminded her of him. 

They chatted idly after ordering their lunches - a soup for Aelin and a sandwich for Elide - and Elide finished her cup of tea. “Are you going to keep me waiting? I want to know your secret, Ms. Galathynius.” 

Aelin’s eyes sparkled and she broke into the largest grin Elide had ever seen. Opening her mouth, Aelin was about to tell her when Luca interrupted them with their food. “For the lovely ladies,” the young man said, bowing theatrically. 

They chuckled and spoke to him for a couple minutes before Emrys was calling him back to the kitchen and they dug in. 

Elide took a bite of her sandwich, speaking around the food in her mouth, not that Aelin would care, “So, spill. I am not waiting till tonight.”

Aelin laughed joyously, her bright laughter flitting around the intimate shop. “Let me have some soup first, ok?” She took a spoonful of her tomato soup and dipped a torn-off piece of brown bread into it before popping it in her mouth. 

Rolling her eyes, Elide stewed and silently ate, tracking Aelin’s every move until the blonde finally put her spoon down and cleared her throat, taking a sip of water. Then, she put her hands in her lap and waited for Elide to place down her sandwich, waiting eagerly. 

“I’m pregnant with- with twins.”  

The air left her lungs and Elide gaped, her jaw dropping. “Oh my gods, are you serious? How long?” 

Tears, happy ones for once, popped up in Aelin’s eyes and she offered Elide a watery smile, “Three months today. I had my appointment earlier and… I’m so happy.” 

Elide stretched her arm across the table and grabbed Aelin’s hand, squeezing it supportively, “I’m happy for you, my love. So happy.”

+*+*+*+*+*+*

The penthouse was cold when she got home. Nobody was there to greet her and putting her one jacket up on the coat rack only reminded her of how lonely she was. 

Elide dropped her laptop and bag on the kitchen island and turned the lights on. She sighed, sitting on one of the stools, and looked to the living room, the sheets and blankets she used to make up the couch to sleep on every night neatly folded on the end cushion. 

She was definitely pathetic for not being able to sleep in the perfectly fine bed upstairs, but she couldn’t. 

That was the bed they shared. He held her in that bed, kissed her, fucked her in that bed. She’d fallen in love in that bed, with the man the sheets smelled like. 

And now Aelin was pregnant. She and Rowan would have their own little babes, made from scratch. 

She should be happy. Elide was happy, but… she wanted to cry. To scream at the unfairness. They were married, they were in love and they got a baby? No, not a baby, twins. Twins.  

How was it fair for them to have everything she hadn’t known she wanted with Lorcan? Maybe it made her a horrible person, but Elide wished for a second something bad happened to them both. She cursed herself for it, reminding herself that they, too, had lost Lorcan.

Elide couldn’t help the tears and the sob that tore from her throat. She cried loudly, her shoulders shaking as she put her forearms on the marble countertop and put her head in the crook of her elbow, her cries somewhat muffled. 

I just want you back, Lorcan, Elide thought to herself. Just for a minute, ‘cause I need some help. I need you. 

No one answered and Elide wasn’t sure if she’d been expecting it. Slowly, she got up and walked upstairs, sniffling once. Elide hugged herself, turning her head to wipe her nose on the shoulder of her sweater. 

She turned on the hall light and looked around the level hardly anyone had set foot on in months. Walking to the end of it, to the door waiting there, Elide dragged her hand along the wall, looking at the bareness of it. 

She looked to her right, out the wall of windows, reaching out to press her finger against a raindrop that hadn’t yet fallen down the glass. For a few seconds, time stopped and Elide watched the rain, letting its calming pitter-patter soothe her frayed soul. 

With one shaky sigh, Elide padded the rest of the way to his bedroom and opened the door, holding her breath as she stepped over the threshold for the first time in six months.

Nothing had been changed. The sheets were still rumpled and a visible layer of dust over every surface. 

Elide ignored the disarray and walked to the bed, fingering the black dress shirt she’d worn that last morning with him. Silently, Elide undressed and donned the shirt, the cool material practically drowning her. She didn’t mind it at all and did up a few buttons before crawling into bed and pulling the thick duvet up to her chin. 

Sinking back into the plush mattress and pillows, silent tears streaking from her shut eyes, Elide thought about him. About life with him. What could have been. 

If they’d gotten married, would they have stayed here? In the middle of Varese? She’d always loved the Wendlyn countryside, maybe they would’ve moved out there, to a large property and house settled at the heart of their land. 

Elide didn’t know how long it took, but eventually imagining a life that would never be exhausted her and she fell into a deep, grief soaked slumber. 

What had once been her refuge, a gentle, comforting oblivion, was now a tragedy, something she couldn’t look away from. 

Lorcan was in a hospital room, a glass door separating them. On the bed, a dark haired boy was asleep. He must have been seven or eight and he was the spitting image of Lorcan, except he had a soft and gentle face as he dozed. 

A smile, soft and beautiful, appeared on Lorcan’s face as he looked at the child and then he turned around, facing the door and Elide. In his arms, he cradled a precious bundle - a wee little one whose arrestingly caramel eyes were wide open and staring out the room’s window towards the night sky. 

Tears burned the back of her eyes and Elide put her hand on the handle, twisting it only to find it was locked.

“E,” Lorcan said, shifting the baby to one arm and the other he stretched out to her, beckoning her in, “come in, love.” 

“I’m trying,” she said, her voice shaking. “Lor, I’m trying, unlock the door.”

“It’s already open,” he told her, a serene smile on his face. “C’mon, meet our kids. They miss you.” 

“Lor- Lorcan,” she sobbed, her voice cracking, “stop, just open the door, please, baby, I-.” Elide tried again, yanking on the handle and pressing her hand against the glass. “Let me in, please. Open the door.” 

“It’s unlocked, just open it.”

“No, no- it’s not,” she said, crying harder, “I miss you so much, please just stay with me.” 

“I will be with you always,” he promised, giving her a smile before looking down at the baby in his arms and leaning down to press a soft kiss to her forehead. “I promise.” 

It was like a bucket of ice cold water was dumped on her and Elide woke up, the sheets and duvet twisted around her, a result of her thrashing. Her chest rose and fell unevenly as she gulped down air and pressed her hands to her cheeks, her fingers coming away wet and salty.

With a heavy sigh, Elide worked on untangling the fabric wrapped around her and looked at the clock on his nightstand. 

Rowan and Aelin were expecting everyone at their townhouse at six o’clock sharp. It was nearly half past four now and she climbed out of bed, stumbling into the bathroom and looking into the mirror. 

She saw her puffy eyes, tear-tracked cheeks, and red nose. Elide looked and felt very much like shit and she breathed out slowly, trying to calm herself before she left for dinner. 

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Lorcan Salvaterre parked his car outside a very familiar townhouse. He’d gone to his apartment first, not expecting to be welcomed by an empty apartment. 

He had wondered if Elide had even taken the apartment - it wouldn’t have surprised him if she gave it to one of their friends - but her things were strewn about the place, papers overtaking the kitchen island and half-empty mugs of tea that had long since gone cold decorated the sparsely decorated unit. 

By dumb luck, his first guess that she’d be at Rowan and Aelin’s was correct because he looked out the car window to see every light on in the house and spied Fenrys through the front window, head thrown back as he laughed. 

Lorcan got out, half-jogging across the rain slick road, flipping his hoodie hood over the messy bun he twisted at the nape of his neck. If there was one thing he was most thankful for for the old women who had found him, floating face-up in the weeds and reeds, it was that when they were fixing him up, they’d left his hair alone. 

His heart beat frantically as he walked up the short steps and winced, his left shoulder stiff and aggravated from the past few days of travelling. He’d been in a small, unheard of village nestled in the heart of the Eyllwe forest, hidden away from the world. The women of the forgotten tribe had healed him like one of their own for the past six months. 

Raising his fist, Lorcan knocked thrice and waited patiently. He heard the easy conversation inside fall silent and he could hardly breathe as the door opened and Fenrys appeared, his body half behind the door and a wary expression on his face. 

Upon seeing Lorcan, Fenrys blinked hard and his jaw dropped open. Letting the door fully swing open, Fenrys hardly dared to ask, “Lorcan?” 

“Hey, pup,” Lorcan said, smiling when Fenrys launched himself at him, wrapping his arms around Lorcan’s neck. The dark haired man’s smile grew softer and he put his arms around Fenrys. He knew Fenrys was crying and he lifted one of his arms to cup the back of Fen’s head. 

By then, the others had been intrigued with the commotion and slowly peered into the hallway, all gasping when they saw Lorcan. Aelin went to greet him, her throat constricting, but Nehemia stopped her, looking sadly at her husband and his brother, whom Fenrys had thought he killed. “Just wait a bit,” Nehemia whispered, squeezing Aelin’s hand once. 

“Is he really back,” Aelin breathed, her free hand ghosting over her stomach, where she’d just begun to show. It was a thing of comfort for Aelin and she found herself touching her belly when she was nervous or anxiety-ridden. 

Nehemia didn’t have anything to say then and they watched Lorcan pull away and say words too low for anyone else to hear. Fenrys nodded and stood up, wiping his cheeks before jokingly planting a loud, wet kiss smack on Lorcan’s cheek. Lorcan rolled his eyes in good nature and wiped his cheek before looking to the others waiting, shell shocked, down the hall. “Oh, y’all having a party? Without me?” 

Rowan let out a dry sob and the two friends met in the middle of the hall, hugging tightly. “Fuckin’ bastard, piece of shite wankstain,” Rowan muttered through his tears. “Couldn’t just stay dead, huh?”

“Fuck you too,” Lorcan said, smiling widely. They didn’t say anything else, just stood there, holding each other. It was simultaneous when they pulled apart, small grins on their faces. “I missed you.” 

Rowan nodded, too emotional to say it back. Slowly, the other guys joined them and Nehemia and Aelin took their leave, retreating back to the living room. Aelin squeezed Nehemia’s hand, worrying her brow, “N… why is he back now?” 

There was nothing good about the look in Nehemia’s eyes as she glanced to the front hall. Lorcan’s return brought on too many questions, ones she couldn’t answer and ones neither Aelin or Elide would like. “We’ll figure it out,” she whispered, gently pressing her hand to Aelin’s stomach and the babes she was carrying. “We always do.” 

+*+*+*+*+*+*

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Elide cursed herself after she thanked her driver, Ress, and hopped out of the black town car. The building had a car service and normally, she would never use it, but after she had gotten sucked back into her work and had been asked to fetch the cake, she hadn’t felt like driving herself. 

Aelin had told her to dress nicely tonight, but Elide didn’t have time to change out of her leggings and hoodie. Throwing on Lorcan’s flannel made it look intentional so she just went with it. 

The drizzle had turned into a full downpour and she ducked her head as she raced up the stone pathway and the stairs, precariously holding the bakery box. Elide looked out over the street as she dug out her keys, doing a double take when she saw Lorcan’s car sitting pretty across the road. 

It didn’t make any sense, unless Fenrys had taken it, but she could’ve sworn she saw the only set of keys in the silver dish when she hurried out of the apartment. Logically, she understood Lorcan wasn’t back and that the only explanation was that Fenrys had taken it, but she couldn’t quell the hope that rose in her. 

Hurriedly, Elide unlocked the door and rushed inside, already rambling, “Fen, did you take Ohitekah’s car? I could’ve sworn the keys were in the key dish.” Nobody answered her and Elide paused, slowly toeing off her shoes and continuing down the hall. “Guys?” 

Elide tucked her short hair behind her ear, feeling the need to touch the chain around her neck that had once been Lorcan’s and run her fingertips up and down the cool silver links. She padded further into the house, her furrowed brows only wrinkling more and more when the house fell dead silent. “Guys, what’s happening?” 

She turned the corner into the living room and froze, her eyes immediately zoning in on Lorcan, who was sitting on the edge of the coffee table, his long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. With a gasp, she dropped the box, the cake no doubt smushed to bits because of her mishap. 

Elide didn’t notice anything else, couldn’t articulate a single thought as Lorcan stood and took a step towards her, approaching her as if she were a wild animal. “Hey, Lochan.” 

Elide let out a half-crazed laugh and flew towards him, crashing into his arms so hard that Lorcan rocked back a step. He banded his arms around her waist and pulled her against him, burying his face in her hair and breathing her in. 

“Hey, Salvaterre,” she whispered, her hands gripping the back of his hoodie tightly. She pressed her face into the curve of his neck, her nose cold against his warm skin. Her lips, slightly chapped from biting them constantly, brush over his pulse as she asked tentatively, “Is this real?” 

“Yes,” he promised her. 

“And you’re not leaving?” 

“Never again,” he said, kissing the top of her head. 

Elide sniffled and cried once, still menacing when she muttered, “You better not.” 

+*+*+*+*+*+*

The dark figure had been lying stomach down on the rooftop for hours, watching through the window as a family reunited. 

His back was to the window, a perfect headshot lined up as they breathed in slowly and peered through the scope, watching the target hug the petite woman, who clung to him like a lifeline.

Their gloved finger slipped over the trigger of the rifle, the metal curve as familiar as an old friend. Willing their heartbeat to slow, they closed their eyes briefly, finding the headspace they needed for the task. 

When they opened their eyes, ready for the kill, a viper’s voice crackled through the earpiece, cool and commanding, “Not tonight, dear. Let us allow them to enjoy themselves a little while longer, yes?” 

“Of course, ma’am.”

+*+*+*+*+*+*

an: ominous, no? 

@mythicaitt​ @tinywolfofeyllwe​ @schmlip-scribble​ @the-regal-warrior​ @empire-of-wildfire​ @rhysands-highlady​ @ttakeitbacknoww​ @shyvioletcat​ @alifletcher2012​ @tswaney17​ @ourbooksuniverse​ @flora-and-fae​ @thesirenwashere​ @queenofxhearts​ @maastrash​ @mynewdreamwasyou​ @cursebreaker29​ @empress-ofbloodshed​ @b00kworm​ @amren-courtofdreams​ @minaidss​ @superspiritfestival​ @lovemollywho​ @queen-of-glass​ @jlinez​ @sleeping-and-books​ @ireallyshouldsleeprn​ @verypaleninja​ @januarystears​ @magicalunicorngypsy​ 

[phantomphangphucker]

Ectober Day 26: Aim - Would You Like Some Bullets With That, Sir?

Vlad would absolutely have a few people who want him extra dead and maybe one or two actually willing to try. Too bad that doesn’t really work when the guy’s already half-dead. In fact, it does pretty well nothing other than provide mild amusement. Danny gets more of a kick out of it than the billionaire does though.

Danny and Vlad were having a decent walk and talk, a decent bonding experience. Surprising, he knows. But one of the key words there was ‘were’, because of course him and Vlad can’t be getting along without pissing off the universe.

Danny had been pointing the straw of his green tea matcha Frappuccino, with more than a couple espresso shots mixed in, at Vlad; trying to explain the nuances of food-related puns, because if he’s going to influence one thing it’s going to be Vlad’s tendency to use foods as swears. Vlad wasn’t exactly being receptive but hey, neither was Danny on the whole ‘etiquette’ lessons the man was trying to give him. But all that got interrupted when a big ass stereotypical white van pulled up with a screech and the doors slide open to a dude with a fucking machine gun. Well fine, handheld Gatling gun is more accurate but sounds a little less cool; besides it’s still technically a machine gun. Which is, in Danny’s opinion, massive fucking overkill. Vlad would be inclined to agree.

Needless to say, they get shot. A lot. Repeatedly. It’s very loud.

All the bystanders around physically pause, stunned a bit stupid that this was happening in Amity of all places not to mention rather desensitised to violence; regardless everyone starts booking it because, y’ know, big ass gun. Vlad actually crouches and moves to cover his head while flashing angry red eyes, he’s dealt with a fair few assassination attempts but in broad daylight? Really? He’ll give them a few points for having the guts. Danny meanwhile, is way too used to getting shot at to even react beyond just standing there at first, before glancing at his cup -which is draining all its contents through the holes onto the road- and grumbling a bit. The gun man stops when Danny bends over and starts laughing though. Even Vlad gives Danny some concerned looks as Danny waves the gun guy off with one hand on his knees, “sorry! It’s- it’s just! Just that! No ones ever-ever shot me! Shot me with a real- real gun!”. Danny sits on the ground and continues laughing while effectively bleeding out of multiple holes as flesh starts moving to slowly repair itself; which clearly the men have noticed and are scared shitless by, as both he and Vlad can feel, see, and smell the fear coming off the truck.

Vlad huffs, stands himself upright and goes about brushing off and inspecting his suit. Huffing again and turning to the van, crossing his arms, “I do believe you owe me a new suit, young man”. Someone inside the vehicle chokes. Danny thinks that’s a pretty reasonable reaction here. But there’s literally zero fucking point of them acting human here, because fuck they were both riddled with bullet holes and their blood was very literally splattered around the ground. Might as well scare these assholes a little.

Hence why Danny sticks a finger in one of the larger holes due to multiple bullets going through the same general area and giggles, “huh, that tickles”, and grins meanly at the driver who looks absolutely disturbed and too far into shock to try driving away yet. Though thinking of it, Vlad might actually try to kill them; tit for tat was absolutely Vlad’s primary go-to in any situation. Hence their arguably insanely prank wars. So Danny stands up and promptly launches himself inside the vehicle, knocking over the man with the bloody machine gun -seriously, how is that not overkill- and landing with his feet on the guys chest. Danny’s pretty sure the guy wet himself. Which, ew, but understandable.

“Okay I’m feeling nice because this is absurdly hilarious and would qualify as some ridiculous ass overkill for normal folks. Kinda pointless against immortals though, dontcha think?”, turning his head to look at Vlad -who’s quirking a single well-groomed eyebrow while his eye goes about repairing itself- through the door, “what do ya think?”.

Vlad walks over calmly and humming, “well I’ll give them points for accuracy, they hardly damaged the surroundings at all. Which I find I can appreciated since that avoids me having to make yet another dip into the damages funds. And I’ll be generous and give another point for dramatics; board daylight, middle of the city, biggest high-powered rapid-fire weapon anyone’s ever aimed at me, the sudden loud noise. Why I’m almost impressed. But I do find the overall end result to be rather lacking”. Vlad kicks one of the front tires hard enough to puncture it while the driver starts scrambling and fumbling to attempt at driving off. The psssssh sound the tire makes actively increases the smell of fear filling the van. Understandable, these guys had effectively just lost their getaway vehicle.

Danny chuckles, “aww, looks like someone’s not going anywhere anytime fast”, Danny grins meanly and flashes his green eyes. The guy passes out. “Ah damn, he passed out”, shrugging, “eh, hopefully he’ll think this was just some bad dream”.

Vlad hums as he climbs in, ecto-beaming another guy in the head to knock him out. Huh, guess Vlad’s really truly genuinely chilled out some in the evil villain department. “Yes that would be preferred, Daniel. I take it Phantom will be delivering these men to the jailhouse after having shielded the mayor and a young boy at the last second”.

Danny snorts as he gets off the gunman and kicks the driver in the head; the guys head bouncing off the steering wheel and obviously knocking him the Hell out. “Obviously. And hey, why not say Phantom healed any injuries to boot. Not like anyone’s sure about the power set of that spooky bastard”, and smirks. Talking about himself like a different person was arguably not necessary right now, no one was around after all, but hey it was kinda funny.

Vlad nods, riffles through the mens’ pockets and pockets all their cash. Which Danny rolls his eyes at, “old bank robber habits die hard?”. Vlad rolls his eyes, “hardly. This is simply to repay me for the damages. This was a nice suit I’ll have you know”. Which Danny rolls his eyes right back at him over while Vlad hops out of the vehicle, looks around, readjusts the remaining scraps of his suit, and saunters off; grabbing a surprisingly intact handkerchief from a definitely not intact pocket and starts dabbing blood off his face, hair, and hands. Danny’s not going to question why the man doesn’t just phase it off or reabsorb it into his body again.

Danny closes the vehicle doors purely to attempt at not transforming directly in open view in the middle of the street. Grabbing up the three guys before pausing and deciding eh why not and telekinetically floating the freaking machine gun onto his back and making that invisible. Flying off through the vehicle's roof.

-

Danny unceremoniously drops the men on the jailhouse floor, “gotcha a present. They tried to unload, like, a bazillion bullets into the dear ol’ mayor”.

Officer Jay sighs, “we were getting some calls about a shooting? But with regular guns”, motioning a few other cops to drag the guys away.

Danny chuckles and nods, “try machine gun”, the cop almost chokes while Danny continues, “not that that is particularly effective on intangibility”.

The cop looks him over, obviously noticing the healing bullet wounds here and there. Healing however many bullet holes takes time you know! “Obviously you weren’t quite fast enough”.

Danny shrugs, “eh, blowing a bunch of holes in a ghost doesn’t really do much other than make a mess. Mayors cool though”.

“That’s... good”, Jay shakes his head, “well, we’ll take care of these guys and I doubt they legally had a machine gun. You didn’t just leave that out in the street did you?”. Danny waves the guy off nonchalantly, “Fenton was there too, took it as his plundered booty”, he makes a point to make that last bit sound pirate-like. The cop sighs and rubs his temples, “so there’s a seventeen-year-old running around with a machine gun”.

“Yup”, absolutely popping the ‘p’.

Danny easily hears the guy mutter, “somedays I would really like to quit”, before looking back to him, “well that family has every weapon license known to man, so I’m not even going to bother. Have a good day and a fulfilling afterlife”. Danny salutes with a cheeky grin before phasing up through the roof.

-

Sam and Tucker don’t so much as blink from Danny suddenly appearing from around a corner and barging in-between the two of them, “hey guys, some guys left me a little present”

Both give a mildly interested and slightly worried, “oh?”. Which is fair, Danny has described getting a taser stuck in his leg as ‘a present’ before.

He grins a bit psychotically, makes the gun visible, and whips it around to be holding it in his hands, “a machine gun!”.

Sam slows her pace slightly, just enough to no longer have a freaking mini-gun pointed at her stomach, “that’s nice Danny”. While Tucker looks much more excited, “Holy frick that’s awesome. Where’d that come from though?”.

Sam sighs, “or more specifically how and why. Ghosts don’t exactly use human weapons and ‘some guys’ is vague as shit”.

Danny chuckles, because that who ordeal was still stupid funny. “Curtsy of one poorly informed assignation attempt in dear ol’ uncie Vlad”.

Tucker blinks, “wait, someone actually tried to assassinate him”, then pauses, “wait no, of course someone tried to assassinate Vlad. He’s Vlad”. Making all three chuckle while Danny fiddles with the massive ass barrel.

All three grin viciously when they spot Dash and co. across the street. Danny deciding to yell, “hey Dash!”, and easily tilting the machine gun up due to, y’ know, super strength, and fires off a bunch of bullets into the air; extending his intangibility to the bullets of course so that they don’t actually hit anything and forming some ectoplasm ‘round his friends' ears so he doesn’t, like, blow out their eardrums or some shit.

Dash stares at him a little bug-eyed before scowling, sticking his arms out to the side, and shouting back, “I haven’t bullied you in a year! Why you still giving me vague ass death threats!”.

Danny cackles, aims the gun to shoot the sign over the assholes head, and riddles it with bullets, “it’s payback bitch!”. Sure Danny would never have done that if he wasn’t absolutely certain his aim was so fucking flawless that there was zero chance of him hitting anything other than what exactly he wanted to. And sure, maybe he swirled some invisible ectoplasm around the bullet trajectory too but no one needs to know that. Dash predictably staggers back, flips him off, and books it down the road.

Danny lowers the gun with a chuckle, “that was fun. So worth getting shot a few times”. Sam blinks at him and looks more than a little not impressed, “you actually got shot, Danny”.

Danny rolls his eyes, “what, in any world, would make you think I didn’t get shot”. Sam just huffs, obviously having no argument for that. Because yeah, Danny always got shot or stabbed or electrocuted or set on fire or a lot of other things.

Tucker shakes his head, “and yet you look totally fine”.

Danny rolls his eyes, “Tuck, what can a regular ol’ bullet do to me”. That gets both his friends to blink and give him disbelieving, “wait, they weren’t even ecto-bullets”. Tucker shaking his head with a laugh at Danny’s nod, “wow, whoever really did, like, zero research”.

“I know right. We scared them real good though”.

Tucker laughs a bit more, “never before have I actually wished to be at a shooting”, shrugging, “first for everything”.

“Amen to that”, Danny emphasises that statement by smacking the gun.

End.

[opalescent-cheetah]

I Don’t Know What To Do (About This Dream And You), 4/5 - Methydoll

Summary: Baseball players and mythical beings are a potent combination. After Crystal catches her eye on the baseball field, Nicky makes a decision that turns her entire world upside down. Meanwhile, Crystal is caught in a mysterious dreamscape, chasing a creature with eyes like liquid gold.

Inspired by these songs: “She’s So High” - Tal Bachman; “Digital Love” - Daft Punk; “Baby” - Francesca Blanchard

Chapter Summary: Crystal is an ordinary girl with messy hair and a baseball cap, and she’s not sure how to feel about that. Jan is the ultimate wingwoman.

A/N: Here is the penultimate chapter of my fic for @cobblestaubrey​ ! In which Aiden and Brita make a very random (but - at least in my mind - a very necessary) cameo.

Ao3 // Previous Chapter

Chapter 4 - Crystal

She’s back in that moonlit field, standing beneath the same tree, its leaves rustling softly in the breeze. Glancing up, she looks for the feathered shape she’d seen last time, but the branches whisper with nothing but emptiness.

Crystal takes the opportunity to gather her surroundings. Nothing has changed since her first visit, several nights ago. There is nothing to see save for an expanse of rolling hills, dotted with huddled thickets of trees. It’s nothing special, and she can’t help but wonder why she’s here again.

She turns, slowly, and that’s when she sees them: the bird person who healed her. They’re sitting on the crest of a nearby hill, feathers twitching in the wind, silently looking out into the distance. 

So it was them, last time I was here, Crystal realises. She can’t help but think that they have something to do with this recurring dream. Ever since the night they healed her, they’ve been an ever-present force in her mind, and now she’s seeing them in her sleep, too?

Almost impulsively, she begins running towards them, desperate for answers. She knows they’ll probably fly away again, but her undying confusion moves her forward.

Crystal slows when she reaches the foot of the hill, taking the trek upwards one silent step at a time. It feels as though she’s closing in on a wild animal; something unpredictable, something delicate and defensive. She can still see the silhouetted shape at the top, the edges of their feathers shining silver in the watery moonlight. They’re ethereally beautiful, yet tragically untouchable. 

When she finally reaches the crest of the hill, she finds herself only a few paces away from them. They haven’t moved - it is as though they are frozen, statuesque beneath the stars. Crystal takes a tentative step closer, but when her shadow falls over them, they stiffen, feathers spiking in alarm. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Crystal tries to assure them, but they have already leaped to their feet, every muscle in their body pulled taut. In the fleeting moment before they spread their wings, Crystal catches a glimpse of their face, their golden eyes ablaze with terror, and it stops her short.

They take off in a blur of feathers, their dark silhouette vanishing into the night, swallowed by the endless expanse of starlight. Crystal stands in their wake, dazed, her throat too tight to even call out for them.

All she can see is the fear in their fiery eyes, their hard stare burrowing deep into her soul. It haunts her; why are they so scared? Why would they heal her, and then run away from her as though she’s some kind of monster? She rubs at a hollow ache in her chest, biting back exasperated tears.

What’s more, they share a striking likeness with Nicky, from the gentle slope of their jaw to the perfect arch of their lips. The downy feathers around their eyes weren’t enough to mask the soft curve of their eyelids, or to hide the shining gold of their pupils, as bright and beautiful as Nicky’s eyes. 

Nicky.

Crystal slumps to the ground, the grass prickling at her bare knees, but she hardly notices. The thought of Nicky makes her chest tighten, her throat closing with unspoken feelings. 

She’s never met anyone like Nicky before. There’s something about her - something special, something different, and it’s not just the iridescent gold of her eyes. Crystal can’t even bring herself to hate the fluttering flames in her chest whenever Nicky smiles at her. No, what hurts the most is that she’s Nicky: she’s perfect, so put-together, and completely out of Crystal’s league. She doesn’t even know why Nicky gives her the time of day; to her, Crystal must be nothing more than an ordinary girl, with messy hair and a baseball cap. She isn’t like Nicky. She’s not special, or interesting, or funny, or cool, she’s just…

She’s just Crystal. And that never feels like enough.

~

You’ve got it, you’ve got it…

It’s a high ball, carving an elegant arc through the air, and it’s coming down, down, towards Crystal’s waiting mitt. She hops a few steps backwards, eyes never leaving the incoming missile.

This is it - if she catches this, the game is hers.

THWACK.

The ball lands heavily in her mitt, and she swings her hand downward, securing it in her grip. 

“OUT!” the referee shouts. The bleachers - and Crystal’s teammates - erupt into cheers. It’s the third out of the last innings, and they’ve just won the game. 

“Crys! That was so good!” Jan shrieks, running up and tackling her in a hug. Jaida follows close behind her, lips quirked in a smile. 

“She must’ve been visited by the magical bird person again,” she jokes good-humouredly. “Hey, Crystal, you should ask them to visit the rest of the team, too.” 

Crystal falters, her mind drifting back to her last dream. 

“I mean, I would,” she finally says, “but I don’t think they want to talk to me right now.”

Jan giggles. “Alright, alright, keep them all to yourself then,” she says, swatting Crystal lightly. 

“You’d better get yourself some extra luck for our next game, though,” Jaida adds, clearly stifling a laugh.

“No, like, I actually think they’re mad at me right now,” Crystal insists, unable to erase their terrified eyes from her mind. “I keep seeing them in my dreams, but they always run away. They seem… they seem really scared of something.” She trails off, biting her lip. 

“I--” Jaida hesitates. “You’re not serious?”

Even Jan has taken a step back and is looking at Crystal quizzically. Crystal tries not to shrink under her gaze - if Jan thinks she’s going insane, then she might just have a problem. She decides not to mention that the bird person wears Nicky’s face beneath her feather-lined eyes.

Forcing a laugh, Crystal waves them off.

“I’m just kidding, you guys! You should see the looks on your faces. I got you good.” She shoots finger-guns at Jaida and Jan, trying not to sigh in relief when they both visibly relax.

“Whew, for a second there, I thought we were going to have to get your head checked,” Jan jokes, elbowing Crystal playfully. 

“Excuse me! I am perfectly sane,” Crystal sniffs, but she isn’t even sure whether she believes that anymore. 

“Yes, and pigs fly,” Jaida comments wryly. Beside her, Jan dissolves into giggles, while Crystal sticks her lower lip out in an exaggerated pout. As they begin walking back to the locker rooms together, Jaida adds, “by the way, I’ll see y’all tonight at the team sleepover, right?”

“Yes ma’am,” Jan says, and Crystal nods in affirmation, hoping that this will give her a much-needed break from her worries. 

~

“Truth or dare.”

“Truth.” 

Crystal watches nervously as Jan’s expression turns sly. 

“Crystal Methyd, have you been… seeing anyone lately?”

“Apart from your mystical bird person,” Jaida adds, lips quirked in a wry smile, and the team giggles.

“I - uh--” Crystal stammers, caught off-guard. Her mind drifts, first, to the bird person of her dreams, but it’s quickly replaced by an image of Nicky’s perfect smile and her iridescent eyes, glowing softly in the cozy cafe. Did that count as a date? She feels her face flush at the thought.

“Someone’s blushing,” Jan teases her gleefully. “Come on, Crys! Tell us who it is!” 

“No-one,” she mumbles. “I’m not seeing anyone.” 

It was probably a one-off thing, anyways. Just something casual. Nothing worth overthinking.

Besides, if she let slip that she’s falling for one of Jan’s best friends, she’d never hear the end of it - Jan would want to play every role from wingwoman to bridesmaid.

“C’mon, sis, we can all tell you’re lying,” Brita laughs, elbowing her playfully. “You look like a tomato.”

“You’re one to talk,” Jaida cuts in, her dark eyes gleaming with mischief. “You and Aiden ain’t ever set anything straight.” 

“Because they’re not!” Jan adds, shrieking with laughter. Crystal giggles, finally relaxing slightly. Across the circle, Aiden’s pale face turns crimson, and Crystal is hit with an idea. Stifling an impish smile, she turns to Brita.

“Okay, Brita, truth or dare?”

She almost feels bad when she sees the way Brita’s eyes widen with knowing, but the feeling is outweighed by her own relief - at least the attention is off her shoulders, for now.

“Dare,” Brita finally decides, her voice hesitant, careful.

“I dare you to kiss Aiden,” Crystal says, and the entire circle breaks into whoops and cheers. 

“Fuck,” Aiden mutters, covering her scarlet face with both of her hands. “Brita, you could’ve just chosen truth--”

“Oh yeah? And be bombarded with questions neither of us wants to answer?” Brita rolls her eyes exasperatedly. “Come on, you can’t tell me that’s any better. At least we can get this--”

“--Over and done with,” Aiden says at the same time. She sighs, finally relenting. “Fine. Get over here, then.” 

Crystal watches, deeply amused, as Brita stalks across the circle and crouches down in front of Aiden. There’s a strange fire in both of their eyes - Crystal knows as well as anyone that their argumentative nature masks something deeper, but Brita and Aiden themselves are the only ones who refuse to acknowledge it aloud. 

Oh well. If anything, it makes them more fun to tease - so much so that it’s almost become a team tradition. Crystal rakes her gaze across the circle, taking in every gleeful grin and sly smirk, as Brita leans in to give Aiden a quick peck. The room erupts in shrieking laughter and cheers, and Crystal can’t help but join in, her own issues momentarily forgotten.

They don’t resurface until after the game, when Jan joins her in the bathroom as she’s brushing her teeth. 

“Hey,” she says, meeting Crystal’s eyes in the mirror. She’s pursing her lips, like there are more words still lingering on her tongue, but she doesn’t quite know how to say them. 

“Hey,” Crystal mumbles back around her toothbrush.

“I know we’re not playing Truth or Dare anymore, but I have a question.”

Though already suspicious, Crystal hums her acknowledgement, nodding for her to continue. Jan drums her fingertips on the countertop, hovering in a brief silence, before she finally speaks. 

“Is it Nicky?”

Crystal almost spits toothpaste into Jan’s face. Reeling, she splutters into the sink instead, hoping Jan can’t see the blush that’s permeated her cheeks. How could Jan possibly know? Am I really that obvious?

She straightens again, her mouth still foamy at the edges, every indignant word she wants to say lodged in the back of her throat. The silence weighs heavily on her skin as Jan watches her, her eyes round with curiosity. 

Finally, Jan breaks the silence with a giggle. 

“It doesn’t take a genius to see that you two have something going on, you know,” she comments, arching an amused brow. 

“Really.” Crystal washes the residual toothpaste from her mouth, refusing to meet Jan’s eyes. “I’ve barely known her for three weeks, so I’d love to see where you’re getting your evidence from.” 

“Are you kidding?” Jan gawks at her in disbelief. “She’s been going to every one of our games since she met you. She hated baseball to begin with - you should’ve seen how much convincing it took just to go that first week, and Jackie said she loathed it. Until she saw you, at least.” 

“She could’ve been admiring anyone on our team,” Crystal mutters, refusing to let herself be convinced. “Yeah, yeah, I bet she was looking at Jaida. I mean, who wouldn’t?” Jaida is not only beautiful, but she’s a sensational player. It would make so much more sense for Nicky to be admiring her, Crystal thinks.

“Well, Jaida’s not the one she went on a date with,” Jan counters. 

“It wasn’t a date.” What if it was? “Also, how do you know about that?”

Jan snickers. “In case you forgot, Nicky is, like, one of my best friends,” she explains. “She was fretting to me and Jackie over the phone the entire morning before your date.”

“And she called it a date?”

“Well, yeah. She said it was a coffee date. I think she really likes you, girl.” 

Crystal’s heart skips a beat. 

She’s still just an ordinary girl with messy hair and a baseball cap, but maybe that’s all she needs to be.

~

Next Chapter

[chyrstis]

WlP Thursday

I swear, I’m not completing these late on purpose! I was this close to having it ready only to blink and realize that posting it around 11 PM wasn’t doing myself any favors. But this was a much needed break from any and all resume frustrations, and between that and wanting to pick every word apart right now, I feel like stress is definitely having a field day.

Tagged by a bunch of amazing people: @softmillers @sharky-broshaw @tommymillers @amistrio @teamhawkeye @scarlettkat86 @fadedjacket @fromathelastoveritaserum​ . Thank you all, by the way! <3

Tagging: @shallow-gravy​ @seedlingsinner​ @risenlucifer​ @tomexraider​ @redroci @finefeatheredgamer​ @geronimo-11​ @ma-sulevin @guileandgall​ @painterofhorizons @sneaky-apostate​ @ofravensandgenesis​ @dirtgirl​ @raisinghellinotherworlds​ @shelliechen​ and @ariestals​! I’d also love to extend the tag to anyone interested as well! If you’re excited about your work I don’t want you missing out on a chance to post it.

-

First up, I figure I should share some more Sharky/Hana, because it’d just be wrong not to. And this is immediately after the accidental kiss that they decided needed to happen which I’m 150% on board with

---

That should’ve brought his cheek in range. Instead, she got his mouth. Felt his comment as it cut off abruptly so his lips could press against hers, and it lasted all of two seconds before they broke apart.

“Oh, God. I-“  

Hana’s hands flew up. Not to actually do anything, but they hovered in front of her as she took a step back and kept her eyes aimed in front of her. Parked right on his chest, right on the words that stood out on its front, and felt her mouth open and close a good couple of times before anything actually came out.

Shit. Shit.

“You’re telling me,” Tracey replied, and dear lord, that had actually slipped out of her mouth without her meaning to.

From off to the side Hana could see Tracey stifling a laugh, and it took a Herculean amount of effort to chance a look up past Sharky’s chin. But seeing him wide-eyed and with his jaw hanging open at her killed whatever nerve she had left, and she started pointing towards the door.

“I’m just…let me get back to you on that.”

She was out before another word could be said, and tried not to stop until she’d cleared the hall and heard the door close behind her.

Stupid. Just… God, why would you-

She knew her face was burning, and couldn’t shake the feeling off. None of it, as it settled in her stomach, tying itself into a series of knots that never seemed to end, and knew that throwing coffee on top of that was probably going to be a disaster.

But she’d do it. All while knowing just how ridiculous she was being, and just how fast she was walking.

You’re an adult. Just cool it, take five to clear your head, and you can fix this. Talk your way through it, tell him it was an accident, and everything’ll go back to normal-

“Hey, H? Hana, seriously! Wait up!”

She cut into a side room and pressed her back to the wall. Didn’t move a single thing as her heart hammered against her ribs, and she listened. Running footsteps sped past that spot, Sharky’s voice following them through the hall, and she waited until both faded.

---

Second, I feel like I already posted this a while back, but I’m not about to check my tags from last year. Also from Hana’s next big fic and incredibly rough around the edges too, but let’s not worry about that right now, self

---

The roaring of the plane’s engine faded, leaving the immediate area. It would likely come back for round two, but for now it was far enough way for her to actually take stock of her current position.

She stood still, running through the past few seconds as they remained braced against the wall, and when she finally looked up at him, she noticed John’s sunglasses were missing. They had been knocked clear off of him sometime in the last minute, with no hope of ever being found at this rate. Even his hair was starting to look worse for wear, no longer fully slicked back and neat.

John, on the other hand had his eyes set right on her. So blue, and so damn perplexed it would’ve been hilarious in any other situation than this. But this wasn’t a one-off moment where they were messing with each other over the radio and he was miles away. No, he was right here in front of her, and rapidly looking more and more pissed off by the second.

Her mouth went dry. Fuck.

She scrambled to back off, but he kept on her, only a beat behind. Her revolver was right by her side. If he went for a gun, maybe she could swing it in front-

The floor ran out from beneath her before she could think to do anything else.

Part of the wall had been blown out in this area of the building, leaving a hole large enough for anyone to fumble through. Or in her case, to fall through, as she felt herself tumble backwards. She idly caught a second instance of confusion gracing John’s features, and wanted to laugh.

Two for two. For that she deserved a prize.

---

And finally, something from the No-Cult AU, because 1) the fic in question here’s one section short of being done and 2) it’s the kind of lighthearted nonsense I’m badly in need of right now.

---

“Having trouble?”

With his sunglasses still down, he’d angled his head just enough to be able to keep the lone eye he cracked open on him, and Sharky side-eyed him as he dragged his tank off.

“Yeah, it’s hot. I’m fucking swimming over here and you’re telling me you’re not?” He twisted it between his hands and squeezed, and John’s nose wrinkled at the gesture. “I’d have shed more than half of that shit after ten minutes.”

“Clearly, judging from your current state,” John said, opening both eyes to look at him. “But I wasn’t referring to any of that. It’s hardly been five minutes, and you’re all but vibrating in place. Is it really that difficult to stand still?”

Sharky gave him a withering look. “You kinda forget the part where I’m working to pay you off? And the longer I take, the longer I gotta do any of this?”

“You can take ten to rest. You can take fifteen even. If you’re tired you get injured, and if you’re injured you can’t work. Defeats the purpose of any of it, doesn’t it?”

“Well, yeah. But-”

“Believe it or not, I don’t want to see you hurt again.” John sat up, and leaned towards him. “And I’m in charge here still, aren’t I? I could order you to sit here for however long I wanted, but I won’t.”

A frown had crept in, but Sharky let it go. “Yeah?”

“Yes, because that won’t get either of us what we want, and right now I want you healthy and thinking clearly. You, on the other hand, want to be debt-free, and I think I may have found a compromise. Now, I did mention that I wouldn’t be throwing orders at you to sit still. That’s still true, but a bet? That might be more to your liking.”

“…A bet?”

John’s lips curved into a wicked smile. “That’s right. A bet. Interested?”

[solitariusdeluna]

Opinion time: Whether or not Coyote Starrk is deserving of his rank as the PRIMERA

Spoiler alert: he’s completely deserving. 

As the title of suggests, this is going to be a very very very long part rant part facts piece about why Coyote Starrk deserves to be the Primera Espada, contrary to what sp many in the fandom think. Brace yourselves, fam. 

So it’s no real surprise that way too many people have taken it upon themselves to question if he was ever worthy of being the first Espada and that’s simply because he’s super underrated and hardly got any screen time except when he duked it out with Kyoraku. 

Let’s begin with the guy himself. I mean he’s not your regular baddie now, is he? And that makes him rather original in the bleach universe tbh. For a “villain” and given his stature, he’s not all that antagonistic. Like at all. Not even a tiny bit. Out of all the characters in bleach, he’s practically the only guy who actively doesn’t give a sh*t or even care about the HUGE battle that he was taking part in. 

And it’s because of that very sentiment that people often mistake him as being lazy and just wanting to get it over with so he can go nap since well, that’s like the only other scene that we saw him in. By design, he’s also quite the understated character and given his position as the first Espada, he’s meant to come off as the underdog. 

Especially when you consider that Barragan is the second Espada. Okay, and we all know that Barragan is supposed to be that ALL POWERFUL RULER OF HUECO MUNDO! We’re supposed to think that Barragan is supposed to be number one then and when it turns out that Starrk actually is, it’s supposed to subvert your expectations as to what makes a powerful character within this army. 

But going back to his design, even if it looks less flashy than most, I think he has the best design among many in the series. He’s definitely quite the looker, i mean look at those cheekbones! And that wavy brown hair and his striking grey-blue eyes and his tall stature. He’s not flashy but he’s definitely handsome. 

He’s also the forgotten Espada, unfortunately. Because despite his position as being numero uno. He really doesn’t show up quite a lot in the Arrancar arc and his fight with Shunsui actually doesn’t take that long either. Not only that, he doesn’t get a volume cover, and he’s also one of the only Espada, it’s only him and Aaroniero that don’t face a single bad guy in the story. 

And this is just one of the few reasons that people seem to think that maybe Starrk didn’t really deserve his position at the top. When compared to Espada like Barragan and Ulquiorra who have very extravagant attacks and abilities, Starrk in comparison comes across as a wee bit plain. 

So when think cero attacks, they’re so over the top and cool, right? But even though Starrk can practically wield his ceros in manner that none of the other Espada or arrancar can, no one seems to notice. I mean he just has to stand there and it just happens, all on its own. No pick up your finger and point like pew pew pew the way Ulquiorra does, or just rage shoot it out of his entire hand as though he’s shoving someone into oblivion the way Grimmjow does. 

As noted by Shunsui, unlike other Arrancar, he can apparently fire a Cero without a "fighting pose", meaning he can fire it without any warning from body gestures. Starrk can do it without any gestures. He can fire it from various points on his body such as his chin or chest and he also charge and fire it rather quickly without any warning, leaving even less time for his target to react. 

Starrk’s got guns. Big guns. and they’re pretty badass too especially when you consider the details on the sides and all. But when you compare them to a skeleton with a crown that can dissolve you to the bone, well... it can pretty much be hard to justify why starrk is numero uno while barragan is number two. 

Now yeah we all heard the age old argument that all over the fandom that Barragan is actually meant to be number one and is only number two because Aizen put him there to insult him and wanted to deflate his big fat ego plenty. I can see that and it might make some sense but it totally and completely isn’t doing Starrk as a character and a fighter any justice.

Now in spite of his relatively short amount of panel and screen time and given that his abilities are not as impressive as some of the other Espada and by impressive you know i mean showy as heck, I’m gonna lay the facts why Starrk is deserving of his rank at the top of the Espada ranks even if he was not the most memorable character ARGUABLY. 

Point#1 Let’s talk reiatsu:

Going off the main canon reason we have to go off the ranking of the Espada is that they are ranked by their reiatsu. Starrk has an abnormally large amount of it compared to almost every other character in the series. His reiatsu was so vast that it killed mountains amounts of hollows and that’s even after he split his power into, an entirely second person, Lilynette. And unlike every single other arrancar and that goes for mister surprise bullshit twist zero espada yammy, Starrk’s zanpaktou is not his power. That was more of a prop for him as wiki states; Sheathing his sword, Starrk, calling Lilynette over, reveals he and Lilynette are one: while other Hollows split their power into their sword and body, they split into two bodies instead, and once they are one again, their full power will be released. 

Now whether it was starrk or lilynette that was the original body -- which is going to be a case of the chicken or the egg type of deal tbh. but my headcanon in this regard would be that their hollow being was a huge collection of souls amassed over time and it existed for ages upon ages. but then starrk and lilynette’s souls seemed to be the strongest out of the whole bunch so basically that’s why it’s them who’s the representative power of that original hollow they were a part of and now with starrk being the stronger one of the two since he’s the older one. 

But getting back to Starrk’s zanpaktou, lilynette is his source of power and basically his zanpaktou. While every other arrancar turned their power into a blade. According to bleach lore, the size of a person’s zanpaktou is relative to their reiatsu. Going off of that, starrk has managed to condense his reiatsu into the smallest form that it could be and that is that of a human child. But also again the two them combined even after being split up, are enough to kill mountains of hollow. That’s how powerful they are. 

special note: when starrk decided to follow aizen, he did it out of his reasoning that, hey i know this guy isn’t going to die because our killer power so yeah, why not? let’s do this. 

Anyhoo, since their reiatsu is absolutely and utterly crushing for any hollow that comes within their proximity. hollows that aren’t particularly powerful but still okay. still. no one else can do that so suck on that, haters! Not even this guy:

the self proclaimed and all powerful king of hueco mundo aka barragan louisenbairn. who just so happened to be sat in a court of hollows, like a whole bunch of them. and yet, none of them were getting killed. none of them. not with his reiatsu alone. so. yeah. 

moving on.

Point#2 Starrk’s battles:

So this is where the real meat of the argument of why he’s deserving of being the primera espada comes in. Putting aside the fact that starrk wasn’t the least bit interested in the whole battle thing and didn’t have the blood lust or duty bound attitude like the rest of the espada -- and that’s because he’s pretty much indifferent to things in the first place. We know that he’s unmotivated which comes across as very lazy to most people aka that whole omg starrk is a fucking lazy bitch thing that most of the people in the fandom go on about...

He’s not lazy. He’s unmotivated. There is a difference. It comes with his nature of being very apathetic and uncaring. I personally like to think that he doesn’t care to exert energy into things that don’t really matter.  But I digress. 

At the start of his fight, starrk is very clearly not even trying and he says so himself a bunch of times. Even though kyoraku was trying to pretty much kill him and get this thing over with, starrk not once retaliates in kind. Which makes this INCREDIBLY UNUSUAL for a bleach fight and villain. And a top tier bleach villain at that, and that’s what makes him interesting. He’s not your regular sort of villain. If one can even call him that really. 

Anyhoo, let’s stop and actually consider the caliber of opponent that starrk is up against. It’s one of the oldest captains of the gotei 13 and a disciple of old man yama-jii himself. So that’s something in itself, okay? 

Let’s take a quick detour though:

And bring back barragan into the picture, mostly because he’s the one who’s supposedly meant to be the primera espada right? (psst, wrong. like really.) Barragan is all about the pizzazz and show and bling bling. I mean look at him, he’s pretty much decked out in the best gold complete with a little crown on his head too. 

Barragan is powerful, there’s no denying that. And he knows it. That’s the contrast between Starrk and him though. He knows his power and his unrelenting about his use of it. Because he wants people to know that he’s strong unlike starrk who just doesn’t give a flying monkey’s arse. And when barragan activates his release form we get a tremendously awesome and stunning display of power in the way in which he manages to reduce Soifon’s hand into nothing but it’s bare bone. That was frightening and it was one of those moments that was meant to stay with you as a observer. Because it oozes the sentiment that, this guy should not be trifled with. 

The difference is however, unlike starrk, barragan is not consistent. Barragan’s fight goes downhill right after that kickass moment of him dissolving soifon’s hand muscles away. and that was the best part of that fight.

detour over. 

Okay, now back to starrk (the one and only and deserving primera).

Starrk in his battle with Kyoraku manages to stay consistent. Something that Barragan failed to do. Barragan is just not on the same level as starrk for a number of reasons.

1. Starrk has a personality that is just not seen among all the other arrancars. He’s cool. He’s calm. And he’s collected. But he’s also incredibly intelligent and ridiculously observant, on a level that we just don’t even see in the series. He was quick enough to observe that Kyoraku was actually ambidextrous despite his trying to hide that as best as he can. He was also able to figure out that Ukitake’s zanpaktou was able to do after seeing it three times in action. 

2. He is strategic. That’s exactly why he was able to figure out how to best beat Rose and Love WHO BY THE WAY WERE ALSO CAPTAIN LEVEL OPPONENTS SO STARRK FOUGHT NOT ONE BUT FOUR CAPTAINS -- Again, suck on that, haters! Ahem, anyhoo. A battle is won not only by force and power but also by strategy. But also in one’s ability to keep a cool head and be quick enough to able to adapt to the situations as they arise. Which starrk was able to do throughout his encounters with those four different captains. 

3. He is not an Urahara/Askin type of character, those guys are more known for being able to continually use their wits and are something of deus ex machina in their own right in that regard. The type of characters who you know are really really powerful but are downplaying it or hiding it so much. 

4. From the start of his battle with kyoraku to the time ukitake (the other discipline of yama-jii and old timer captain of the gotei 13)  turns up, Starrk didn’t take a single hit. He doesn’t get hit, once. And that is just badass, especially given the fact that he was going up against ukitake, kyoraku, rose and love. In his resurreccion, starrk was able to keep a level head and access the situation all while dodging every single attack he was thrown with. And despite kyoraku’s tendency to fight dirty and sneaky. Still, starrk managed to dodge, everything. Starrk’s ability to control the battlefield with his ceros and simultaneously dodge everything these two old and very high level captain class characters throw at him is pretty much nothing short of impressive if you ask me. But wait, there’s more. 

5. Once ukitake and kyoraku are taken out of the fight, starrk goes up against Love and Rose. You know, the hollowified and presumably strengthened tremendously because of that fact captain level guys that were exiled to live in the world of the living. So that’s back to the point I made early which is pretty badass in its own right and NO ONE ELSE HAD TO DEAL WITH MIGHT I ADD! He was dealt with the TOUGHEST fighters around. Clearly. But you know what was cool? Starrk was literally toying with them, the entire time. He did take a hit because of Love when barragan died but it was like him just laying there and being something of a comedic moment and he wasn’t the least bit hurt. He wasn’t even being serious the entire time and then his awesome bomber wolves wiped them out -- even though it’s still highly doubtful he was fully into the fight even then but. that was that. 

Speaking of those awesome bomber wolves;

His resurreccion’s other special ability aside those mad cero shooting skills and he summons his army of spirit wolves and that was his moment to shine pretty much. These wolves decimated Rose and Love with ease and starrk didn’t even have to move from his spot. not once. 

Now if we go back to barragan though, he was pretty much freaking out and got half his skull clearly wiped out of his head when he got hit and he was pretty much losing his mind. But that’s because of his personality and that pompous being he is that ended up holding him back. Compared to starrk who remained in control and completely so, the entire time he fought with all these strong opponents. 

BUT CONVERSELY;

Okay, so he held his own against four captains but then he didn’t fight a bankai and ended up losing to a shikai. When we take that into consideration, well, yeah. that does sound really bad. not gonna lie. Being the first espada in Aizen’s army killed by a shikai.

Except, we have to take into account with everything that was mentioned thus far, Starrk was winning the fight with ease. He was in control of the entire battle from start to finish, hardly took any damage even though he went through kyoraku, ukitake, love and rose. He was always on top of his game throughout and he wasn’t even into the whole fighting thing okay. that’s the main point here. 

He was crushing it. Starrk was winning it. Especially after he wiped out Rose and Love. Until Kyoraku emerged from the shadows and took a stab at him. It was in this battle that we learned more about Kyoraku’s personality when in battle and we find out that he’s pretty much not afraid to be sneaky and low-ball his opponents. And that’s because according to me, he’s pretty much got that mindset that “all is fair in love and war, baby.” 

Kyoraku’s unapologetic and that’s pretty awesome of him. Plus, given that he was up against starrk and he noticed how things were going, he decided to up things and go all out without using his bankai. Which he was actually considering by the way, but Ukitake was all no, man. don’t you dare at him so he didn’t. But this was why Kyoraku decided to literally...

...stab starrk in the back. 

And just end this once and for all. And there was no way starrk could have gotten out of that scenario because it played perfectly into kyoraku’s hands. And even Rose and Love didn’t expect it, because in the world of bleach, it’s just not etiquette to come crashing into someone else’s fight -- which was exactly what Kyoraku does. 

Love and Rose were just superbly outmatched and kyoraku saw an opportunity and he just goes ahead and stabs starrk in the back. And it was that stab that finished it. Game over. 

It takes starrk right out of the game. Because from that moment onwards, starrk’s head just wasn’t in the fight anymore. It was so dirty and he didn’t like and he was supposed to be the bad guy. 

Tut tut, kyoraku. 

Anyhoo, Starrk didn’t want to be there. He didn’t want to fight. He gets a little bit into it and takes out Love and Rose. But when Shunsui stabs him in the back and rattles him. It caused Lilynette to step up and sacrifice herself for his sake but from then on it was just what was the end all for him at that point. He was thrown into an emotional tailspin that shook him to his core, ended his reasoning and that entirety of calmness he had throughout his battle. 

That was seriously heartbreaking to watch too. He lost the other half of his soul and one can only imagine the type of pain that brings about. It weakened his resolve and when your opponent’s resolve to fight is weak, well then, of course you’ll be the victor and that was exactly what happened. 

Shunsui won. But he won dirty. 

But if you consider that he went up against two of the oldest and high level captains and two hollow strengthened captains and still held his own until he was dealt that unfortunate blow, starrk is pretty damn well deserving of his rank as the primera espada. He is not the primera because barragan was slighted by aizen. He’s the primera because he held his own pretty darn well despite not feeling it at all.

 And that’s the end of that, friends. Show respect for starrk. He’s the primera and he deserves it. 

#PROTECTSTARRK2020

[floatingcatacombs]

Top 10 Sexiest Mechas

12 Days of Aniblogging, Day 4

Mecha is one of the most intimidating genres for anime newcomers. The plots seem overly complex, the episode counts too long, and the giant robot war settings difficult to relate to. I think that all of these are valid concerns, but that mecha often gets a bad rap when most people don’t even want to try it. What both newcomers scared of the genre and hardcore mecha fans often fail to recognize, though, is that on top of the messages of the series, mechas always represent bodies. They are giant robotic representations of their pilots, the visions of their creators, collective psyches, and/or the work’s central themes. The degree of anthropomorphism, the level of abstraction with which the pilot controls the mecha, the colors and shape and size…all of these bodily elements directly tie back to the mecha’s role in the story. Of course, if mechas are bodies, then they are also vulnerable to sexualization. So let’s take all of that into consideration and chart the top 10 sexiest mechs! I’ll be keeping it capped at one entry per series, and will talk about all media, not just anime and manga.

 10. EQUUS from Concrete Revolutio

Starting off the list we’ve got a pretty weird pick, but I wanted to make sure that I shouted out this show. Concrete Revolutio is a kaiju and superhero-deconstructing delight, but when it comes to mechas it really plays things by ear and aims for the coolest setpieces possible. The protagonist’s mecha is essentially a Transformer that unfolds from a car into a centaur mecha. While the car body middle leaves a little to be desired, overall the design is a very good synthesis of Car and Horse. It’s certainly a better implementation of the centaur mecha design than say, Overwatch’s Orsia, who has a very visually muddled walking pattern because her legs are far too tiny and packed closely to each other. I’m especially a fan of the wheel joints on the knees and hooves on EQUUS, as well as the unicorn horn. Much as a centaur is an identity crisis between man and beast, Jiro is constantly in self-conflict over whether he can be a heroic protector of all superhumans or if he’s just a monster in disguise.

 9. Metal Gear Zeke from Metal Gear Solid: Peace Walker

Metal Gear Solid is one of the most iconic mecha series out there, so picking one specific Metal Gear over all the others proved challenging. The classic boxy REX, the smooth aquatic RAY, the upright Sahelanthropus, the arachnid EXCELSUS…there’s lots of good ones to pick from! It was a tough battle, but ultimately I had to go with ZEKE, the first named Metal Gear chronologically. Designwise, the railgun and Z-shaped legs are a nice touch, but it’s the story arc around ZEKE that interests me the most. A lesbian-sourced war crime machine, ZEKE was created by MSF, the nationless nation of soldiers run by Big Boss. It ended up being hijacked by terrorists from within and nearly caused a globally eradicating nuclear exchange, which is as good of a metaphor as they get for why deterrence is a fucked ideology. Accidents happen, stockpiles become more and more sunk costs, and sometimes anime girl triple agents infiltrate your military base and steal your cool robot.

8. Char’s Zaku II from Mobile Suit Gundam

Confession time: I haven’t actually seen any Gundam. I’m more of a Macross gal myself. But I felt like not having any Gundam on this list would be like ignoring Star Wars on a space opera list. Anyways, Char seems like one of the most awful bastard characters of any series ever, so I’m happy to use a spot on this listicle for his mecha. The Zaku II is infamous for being “three times as fast” as its generic counterparts despite its only difference being its red paint, but c’mon – that’s Char’s absolute moral purity buffing his ship. You deserve that stat buff if you’ve Never Betrayed Anyone In Your Entire Life, Ever.

7. Deus Ex Machina from Promare

--Promare spoilers ahead--

Promare ends, as all Trigger works should, with a whole lot of Act 3 Bullshit. Plot twist after plot twist until all of the themes dangled at in the first half no longer matter, with nonstop fighting getting more ridiculous by the second. At our protagonist’s darkest moment, their problems get handwaved away and they are handed a deus ex machina of a mecha literally known as….Deus Ex Machina. A fusion of Lio’s jet black triangle armor and Galo’s knightly firefighter mecha, the design of this mecha represents their connection and understanding of each other. Yes, of course they’re gay. Why else would it be glistening in rainbow colors?

6. Terminus typeR909 from Eureka Seven

Another mecha anime I’ve hardly seen.. but one that I definitely want to get around to! Eureka Seven just seems like a genuinely delightful time, and I’m a sucker for romance-based mecha shows as well. Anyways, the piloted mechas in Eureka Seven are named after Roland drum machines, with the typeR909 is named after the classic TR-909. They’re nicely proportioned and there’s something sweet about the cutesy magenta robot of the fleet being piloted by a 30-year old man. I guess I’m just a sucker for the gentle undoing of gendered associations and music gear.

5. Eva Unit-01 from Nylon Genesect Evangelical

All of the Eva units are quite tall and bestial and wonderful, but it’s Eva-01 in particular that really stands out due to its conspicuous tendency to disobey its pilot and go berserk, fully unhinging its jaw. NGE takes the “mechs as bodies” thing pretty damn seriously, but throws in the delightful wrench of “what if it’s not your body that’s being represented?”

4. VF-1 Valkyrie from Macross

Macross was the first popular mecha series to utilize transforming robots. What makes Valkyries so sexy is that they’re not just limited to Spaceship and Gundam forms – they have an intermediary form. In GERWALK mode, the cockpit remains exposed having not folded into the mecha headpiece yet, and the wings are still popped out. However, the Valkyire has sprouted its arms and legs already, making it capable of landing, walking on the ground, and wielding a gun pod as a rifle.  It’s kind of adorable! Stuffed to the brim with weapons and tech, Valkyries are the perfect blend of stylized and realistic robots. The Itano Circus will live on forever in our hearts as the go-to tactic when you have plenty of talent on your animation team and your mechas are armed with way too many missiles.

3. Jehuty from Zone of the Enders

While the VF-1 mecha is sexy because of its utility and folding form, the Orbital Frames of Zone of the Enders are sexy because…they’re designed with a sexual angle. They’re famous for their literal cock pits, but combined with their broad shoulders, slim hourglass waists, and pronounced thighs, they exude a strong androgynous energy. Jehuty is one of the most recognizable frames simply by virtue of being the playable mecha, but definitely one of the hornier ones too. Case in point: at the end of Zone of the Enders 2, it receives an upgrade after absorbing its sister frame to become Naked Jehuty, a stripped-down but ridiculously powerful mecha with gold sections emulating bare skin. Yoji Shinkawa’s brain is simply too big.

 2. Bohrok Pahrak

Look, I can’t just not include any Bionicle on this list. They’re some of the most formative lil’ robots to me. But which one is the sexiest? That’s not really something I’ve had to consider before. While some of the titan sets such as Roodaka and Axonn have a certain sexual angle to them, it feels contrived, carrying the same kind of creepiness as horny OC designs. The Great Spirit Robot might be the super robot of the series, but its design is rather barebones and reminds me too much of The Iron Giant. So I ultimately settled on the Bohrok, the hivemind villains from 2002’s story. While most Bionicle are a combination of biological and robotic, the Bohrok are strictly mechanical – and piloted by the masklike Krana, making them mechas! You really shouldn’t fuck the Bohrok, but there’s just something so perfect about their design. They’ve got it all – not only transformability and an orb design, but transformability into an orb design. Their hunched-over stature reminds me of GERWALK Valkyries – it’s cute and functional! As for why Pahrak in particular, well, the shields it wields are vibrators. Just ignore the fact that they’re powerful enough to seismically level mountains, and you’ll be set.

1. The Entirety of Heaven Will Be Mine

You can tell that Aevee Bee and Mia Schwartz did their homework for Heaven Will Be Mine. They understand better than anyone else that a mecha is a representation of the pilot’s psyche and body, and that damage to the mecha is indistinguishable from that to the pilot. This is reinforced by the mechas being referred to as Ship-Selves – they are literally an extension of oneself more than anything else. By looking at a ship-self, you can almost immediately infer what kind of person the pilot is, what her position in bed is, and what her fetishes are. The layer of abstraction between pilot and mecha ranges from wafer-thin to nonexistent depending on the character. The side effect of this is that since HWBM is about a bunch of gay girls in space having sloppy ideologically charged hookups, the mechas have to be designed just as sexually as everything else. And by god did they deliver on that front. Some of the ship-selves, such as Mare Crisium and String of Pearls, take clear direct inspiration from Zone of the Enders frames. The Krun Macula takes some inspiration from Char’s Zaku II in terms of color and shape, but its face chimes give it a uniquely divine and powerful feeling with no mecha parallel. This perfectly mirrors Pluto’s powerlevel advantage over all of the other pilots, and her humanoid-but-not-quite ship-self perfectly represents her faction’s goals. On the other hand, the assimilationist Memorial Foundation believes in ending the space program and grounding all ship-selves to prevent the splintering of humanity. Their mission manifests literally in that each member of the faction wears some form of bondage gear to represent their shackles to the Earth, and even their Ship-Self has a spreader bar. Heaven Will Be Mine is ridiculously horny, and it has the vision, design, storytelling, music, and everything else to back it up. Truly, the best of all worlds. And if anyone who worked on the game is reading this post.,.thanks.

[enigmatist17]

Longing (Rhys Strongfork x Vaughn)

I really really love Rhys and Vaughn.

I was really really happy to see them in Borderlands 3.

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

Vaughn had been having a nice day. The Calypso Twins had been killed a few weeks ago, and the universe seemed to finally be lulling back to its old self. Pandora was only full of Crimson Raiders and the slowly dwindling COV, the lack of bandits almost startling to the planet. He couldn’t remember the last time random packs of bandits were just running around, shouting about blood and skulls. No, Pandora seemed to finally have tipped the change from bloodthirsty bandits, to a potential planet ready to build an actual society. 

The change almost was saddening to see.

Yet again, a life Vaughn had tried to make for himself was slipping from his fingers. He was a lonely bandit in the wastes again, and this time he wasn’t sure if he could change again. Hyperion and that oppressive corporate atmosphere had nearly smothered him, Vaughn wasn’t going to go through that again. No, he was confident in himself and able to tear a person apart for trying to ever imply as such. Paperwork, meetings, and selecting who to tear down just for a step up just made the bandit chief feel ill. He had gone for a walk and now regretted it as an Atlas ship landed nearby. Vaughn could have sworn that Atlas had been some third-rate corporation, not able to afford the armor and spectacular guns those unloading from the transport seemed to have. Then again, his news was seven years out of date, so anything could have happened during his tenure on Pandora he supposed. 

The man stepping out, dressed in a suit and sporting a blood-red cybernetic arm, brought any train of thought Vaughn had at the moment to a rather spectacular crash.

There was no way that was Rhys Strongfork, there is no fucking way. Still crouched behind some rocks, Vaughn watches as Rhys puts his hands on his hips, saying something to a soldier with a grin. The last seven years had been very kind to Rhys, Vaughn feeling suddenly very aware he was only in his underwear and cape. It usually didn’t bother him, but seeing the tailored suit and blood-free face of his former friend just made Vaughn feel subpar. Once again his thoughts were scattered when some skags, previously going about their business, seemed to find the Atlas troops worthy of dinner. At first, he just watched as they easily dispatched the animals with ease, but quickly moved when one snuck up and made an advance at Rhys. The businessman only had a gun partially withdrawn before the skag seemed to just explode, raining misty blood down over him. Glancing over, Rhys forgot about the bodily fluids all over his suit as he took in the man who was reloading his gun. Despite the blood, grime, and bushy beard that could use decent grooming, the man standing feet away was all too familiar to Rhys.

“Vaughn?!” The bandit looks up, locking eyes with Rhys before a huge grin stretches across his face. The CEO is taken up into strong arms a moment later, pressed against a toned body that he only dreamed of late at night. 

“Rhys! You’re alive bro!” Vaughn laughed, squeezing his friend tight before releasing him. Rhys looks as he always has, a bit bewildered and adorably confused, steadying himself by using Vaughn as support. 

“I-I can’t believe it!” Rhys looks absolutely delighted, taking in his oldest and dearest friend. Seven years had seemed to pass in the blink of an eye, and for Vaughn, it had changed him so much. He had seemingly thrived as a bandit chief, no hint of nervousness nor social awkwardness that Vaughn had had their entire friendship. The bandit just grinned away, shifting into a fighting stance when the Atlas soldiers raised their guns.

“No no! No, he’s a friend.” It was strange seeing someone stepping in front of Vaughn, Rhys clearly not thinking much of the protective stance as much as Vaughn did. The guns were lowered without hesitation, and Rhys turned with a cheeky expression. “Say, know any good coffee shops?” Vaughn can’t help but laugh, Rhys letting out a distressed cry to learn that coffee was rare to come by on Pandora. Thankfully, Sanctuary III was able to supply some through Rhys' stay, and Vaughn finds himself hooked back on the liquid by day 2. The two are usually in a booth laughing about something, looking so strange a pair, yet these days hardly anyone batted an eye. Atlas had promised to help rebuild sections of Pandora that had been destroyed by the CoV, and the task that had once been almost monumental to Rhys suddenly felt so easy. Vaughn was able to get people to work at ease, Rhys sometimes watching with a slightly envious look. Despite leading Atlas, he still suffered from his own lack of self-worth and envied how confident Vaughn was. Soon the few months Rhys had come to stay were coming to an end, and both men felt some tension in the air.

Rhys, bless his heart, is the one to ask Vaughn to come with him.

The bandit gives him a disbelieving look, wondering if it was some sort of strange joke. The company life had been left far behind, but it was back and asking him to come into the fold. Rhys waves away concerns when Vaughn asks about investors, pacing back and forth. They were both currently in the remains of his old Sun Smashers camp, Rhys having asked to see it before finally spitting out his question. He sat on the dirty bed, watching as Vaughn switched between disbelief and uncertainty. Seeing Vaughn so unsettled reminded him of their days in college and Hyperion, and for once Rhys decides that maybe he should finally do something. Standing up unnoticed, Rhys waits until he can slip in front of Vaughn, words dying on the bandit's lips when a cool metal hand caresses his face.

“I want you to come with me, I don’t want to leave you again.” He usually isn’t good at this sort of thing, but at this moment he couldn’t have been any more sure of anything in his life. Vaughn doesn’t say anything, just looking into Rhys’ eyes as if searching for deception. He seems to find what he was looking for, and before Rhys can blink, cracked and dry lips are on his own. His brain just seems to short circuit, and as fast as his bravado had swelled, Rhys just felt so lost as Vaughn kissed him soundly. He’s got the sappiest grin on his face when Vaughn takes pity, looking very amused.

“Sure you don’t mind a bandit coming back with you?” He isn’t sure what potential investors would think, but Rhys is nodding before his thought is even out of the gate.

“Of course! You’re my closest and dearest bro, and I know that you can pull your weight if need be.” Rhys flashes a dazzling smile, and Vaughn finds himself accepting the offer. He leaves Pandora with a bandit’s goodbye, pouring some blood from a skull before joining an intrigued Rhys on his private ship. It felt like a lifetime ago since he had been off-planet sans Sanctuary III, and he’s quiet as the planet fades from view. He would feel sad, but hearing an excited Rhys pouring over some sort of blueprint behind him only makes the bandit smile. He spends most of the journey to Promethea sleeping, feeling the nervous energy he used to ooze back in his Hyperion days coiling in his gut. Would he be good enough? He hadn’t done any sort of “work” in over seven years, would he even remember how to?

The building they land on is huge, the dazzling city almost too much for Vaughn. The neon glow and varying robots carrying out repairs stretch into the distance, and he is shaken from his observation by an arm slipping around his waist. Rhys is smiling down at him, that sweet and goofy smile that just makes any of Vaughn’s worries fade away. The gigantic building they enter doesn’t feel cold and stifling, instead, it’s inviting, workers waving to Rhys all with smiles. Of course, there are strange looks at the man wearing nothing but boots, underwear, and a tattered cape, but they never linger for long. Rhys’ office makes Vaughn laugh, seeing the aquarium reaching up to the ceiling like they had discussed over last night studying long ago.

“What?” Rhys tilts his head slightly, and Vaughn just gives him a grin.

“You remembered the aquarium, of course, you did.” Rhys just grins, and Vaughn flops down onto the couch. It was so strange to be inside an intact building that was well maintained, unable to smell anything less than what appeared to be coffee and whatever Rhys liked in the air. Was it vanilla? Vaughn couldn’t remember what vanilla even smelled like, watching from the corner of his eye as Rhys caught up with some emails. The way the CEO sticks his tongue out slightly while scanning through dozens upon dozens of threads just reminds Vaughn of their happier days at Hyperion. There weren’t many of them, but the late nights crafting their plan back then, usually spent in their cramped office laughing over takeout never failed to make Vaughn smile. Zer0 comes in to find the bandit passed out on the couch an hour later, Rhys having moved to be by the other. The man is sitting on the floor, legs crossed as he leans back against the couch. His cybernetic arm is displaying some sort of hologram, and his normal hand is enclosed in Vaughn’s closest hand. Rhys has a content smile on his face, the assassin noting this was the first time he had ever seen Rhys so at ease. Zer0 takes the hint and slips out of the room as silently as he had arrived, and locks the door behind him just in case.

[bigskydreaming]

Imagine:

The Batfamily is all assembled in the Batcave working on some case, when Alfred intercoms them from up in the Manor. He says there’s a man on the phone for Master Dick, with it being a matter of some urgency. Bruce starts to ask if he’s established whether its an actual emergency or something he can take a message on, but Alfred continues...

Alfred: Err, the individual in question ensured I was aware he knew Master Dick was on the premises and available to take his call...even if I did need to patch him through to our....downstairs line, as he termed it.

Bruce: Our downstairs line? He phrased it exactly like that?

Alfred: I’m afraid so, sir. He was circumspect, no doubt in deference to our....privacy in such regards, but there was little margin for misinterpretation as to his meaning. This may come as some surprise, but I have considerable practice in the art of reading between the lines, and like to imagine myself somewhat of an expert at the craft.

Bruce: *sighs* Patch him through, Alfred. Did he give a name?

Alfred: Very good, sir. And yes, he did say Master Dick refers to him as Boone.

All eyes swivel to Dick, as Alfred transfers the call to the Batcave’s ultra encrypted top secret super hush hush line. Dick pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs.

Dick: If I get an ulcer from the next five minutes, I’m absolutely naming it after him.

Bruce: You don’t seem surprised this person has knowledge of our identities. Why wasn’t I informed of this individual, as a potential threat of exposure?

Dick: Umm, it didn’t seem relevant?

Bruce: ....what.

Dick *shrugs*: I mean, to be honest, I mostly forgot. He’s known forever, and its not likely to ever be an issue for the same reason he’s never done anything with the knowledge before now. He’d never give our identities to someone who could potentially compromise us or harm us, because that risks someone other than him killing me before he can say he’s beaten me and proven himself better than me once and for all, and that like. Pretty much would defeat the whole point for him.

Bruce: ....I’m almost afraid to follow your logic.

Jason: I’m so happy right now.

Dick: If it helps, he’s known since like, I was eleven. So I mean, I do feel pretty confident if it was going to be an issue, he’d have made it one way before now. Hence why I....kinda just forgot. I mean, I didn’t really forget, forget, but like I said. It just didn’t seem relevant.

Bruce: ....that does not help, no.

Tim: Wait, what? Who is this guy!?

Damian: ....Grayson, did you hit your head on patrol? You’re not making any sense.

The speaker crackles to life again before anyone can press Dick for more questions.

Boone: Hello? Are you reading me loud and clear in the top secret Batcave you got there? 

Dick: Boone. What the hell do you want, and how do you even know we have a Batcave, let alone call it that? And also, what the hell do you want?

Boone: Freddy! My buddy! My pal! Long time, no ass kicking! 

Dick: Not that long. Usually you like to wait a few more months than this before ringing me up to ask for another one.

Boone: Any chance we swap this connection out for a video call? You sound irate, and that’s easily one of your top ten facial expressions. You can’t tell but I’m fanning myself just thinking about it.

Dick: I am going to kill you. It is going to hurt.

Boone: Promises, promises. You always say things like that and yet here I am, my masochistic needs still unmet....

Dick: Boone!

Boone: Freddy! Alright, unclench. No need to get your jockstrap in a bunch. I figured you had a Batcave because you obviously have to have some kind of lair on site, and your Daddy Warbucks seems too fond of his toys to fit everything in the attic, so downstairs seemed a safe space. You can relax. I’m not spying on you via a periscope sticking out of your toilets or something suitably archvillainous and cliche.

Dick: And you just happened to know its called the Batcave?

Boone: ....well on that score I mean, I have met you, and your old man does have a theme, and it wasn’t actually super hard to add two plus two and get four there. Thanks for the confirmation though. Its always nice to know I’ll still be able to make it on my brains once all this beauty begins to fade. Ah, time, that bitch. The absolute Murder Icon we all aspire to, with a body count none of us will ever match.

Dick: Did you call just to wax poetic or whatever the fuck it is you think you’re doing, or is that just a treat I’ve earned with all my good karma.

Boone: Actually, funny you should say that, because I’m calling with an exciting investment opportunity that could reap you loads of karma reward points on the back end!

Dick: ....what.

Boone: I need your help. Sorry, was that not clear? I don’t have a ton of practice on that line. My profession’s not big on the whole communal effort sort of thing.

Dick: ....what.

Boone: Oh come on, don’t be like that. It can’t be that shocking to you, I mean, you’re a hero. Helping people is what you do. You have to hear that line all the time!

Dick: Yes, just usually not from mass murderers.

Boone: Oh, you damn me with faint praise.

Dick: As long as we’re clear on the damnation part.

Boone: Besides, I mostly just murder in a singular fashion, you know, as in one at a time. There’s hardly ever any mass.

Dick: Well that changes everything.

Boone *laughs*: Oh, Freddy. We do have fun. Speaking of, how about it? You wanna hop on over to the far side of the world and bail my finely curved and plushly padded ass out of the fire, before the nefarious evildoers who are after me do unseemly and deplorable things to it and also to my organs?

Dick: And here I thought nefarious evildoer was your job description. Someone’s gunning for your head and your title? Tough day you’re having, chum.

Boone: Its the world we live in, mate. Job security just ain’t what it used to be.

Dick: Not sure if that’s the world’s fault or more just something to do with your particular line of work. If only there had been someone at some point in your life who could have warned you about your profession’s usual stats on job security. Oh wait.

Boone: I know, I know. Listen, as dazzling a pairing as my pecs-tastic physique and scintillating intellect may be, I pale before your perfection, old buddy. Be a pal and try not to hold that against me, will you? Tell you what. You come help me out of this little old bind I’ve gotten myself into through no real fault of my own, and I’ll let you give me one of those judgmental stares you’re so fond of, and you can say you told me so. Actually, you know what, for a limited one time only offer, I’ll even throw in a free spanking!

Dick: You’re an idiot.

Boone: I know, who am I kidding. I’d let you put me over your knee any day. Really, its your own fault. When all your stern talk of discipline and punishment makes bad boys like me go weak in the knees and swoon, how can we possibly be expected to keep to the straight or narrow?

Dick: ....why do I get the feeling you didn’t just know I was here, but that my whole family is present and listening too?

Boone: In my defense, I distinctly recall you being the one to tell me to get a hobby, last time we tangoed in Paris.

Dick: I was talking about things to occupy your time without killing people, not inviting you to occupy your time making my life miserable. And it was Chicago, not Paris.

Boone: Well then you should have been more specific. And I know it was Chicago, you moron. Ugh. I may kill people, but you’re murder on a theme. God, you can be such a peasant sometimes.

Dick: This from the guy who....you know what? No. Stop. I’m not getting sucked into this again with you. Get to the point, Boone. Fine, you landed your ass in more trouble than even you can handle, for once. Why is this my problem, and what would possibly make you think I would help you out of a mess you made and probably more than deserve to reap the consequences of?

Boone: Because you’re a goshdarn hero, Dickie, and a better man than me, remember? And because you’re not doing it for Shrike the mercenary, you’re doing it for your old buddy Boone. That you couldn’t save from himself and will hate yourself for not saving now, if I do wind up dead and you happen to ask yourself if you could have stopped this. Which, of course, we both know you will. So should we just skip to the part where you do what we both know you’re gonna do in the end anyway, because you can’t be anyone other than who you are anymore than I can be anyone other than who I am, no matter how much either of us wants to pretend otherwise? Or do you want to dance this out a few more songs first?

Dick: Send the situation details and coordinates to the email address I gave you last time. I’ll be there as soon as I can, and if you so much as think as killing someone while I’m there, you won’t like where I drop you off.

Boone: Mmm. Fair enough. For all the perkiness of your perky parts, your taste in venues has always been shit. You can cool your jets by at least five degrees, Mister Superhero Sir. I’m in no rush to enjoy the accommodations of Bludhaven Penitentiary a second time. They didn’t even have HBO. Barbarians.

Dick: And Boone? After I do this, you and I are through. You stay out of my way from now on, and I’ll do the same. Clear?

Boone: Oh, Freddy. Tell yourself whatever you want to, but we both know that you and I won’t be through until the day one of us dies. I’ll owe you one, let’s go with that. Alright, check your email, just sent the sitch. I’ll see you when you get here, til then this booty’s gotta bounce! Ta!

The speaker hisses static as the phone disconnects. There’s awkward silence as nobody has any clue what to say and Dick very conspicuously checks his email on his phone.

Bruce: This Boone...he’s the mercenary and occasional assassin Shrike? 

Dick just nods, his shoulders tense and uncomfortable. Everybody else eyes each other warily, except for Cassandra and Tim who exchange particularly confused glances. They fought a mercenary named Shrike once, years ago, but nobody had ever said there was anything significant about him, or hinted there was any reason he and their oldest brother should have any basis for having a conversation like...whatever that just was. 

Not to mention, even Bruce sounds weird now. Like he’s just as awkward and uncomfortable as the rest of them look and feel. And Bruce only sounds uncomfortable when talking about like. Feelings and stuff. Family situations. Never cases. Never....the bad guys.

Bruce: ....he was one of the other students at Vengeance Academy, I take it.

Dick still doesn’t look up from his phone. His voice is resigned and weary. This is not a discussion he wants to have, his siblings can tell that much. Even if the rest is all just gibberish to them.

Dick: He ended up with the League after Shrike died. Trained with them for a few years, then eventually broke off to do his own thing. Called himself Shrike in honor of....our old teacher. He was. Particularly attached to him.

Bruce: ....you...kept in touch, then?

Dick barks out a startled laugh, full of too many other emotions to put a name to.

Dick: Hardly. We’ve just....run into each other over the years since then. He figured out who I was a long time ago, when he recognized my picture in some puff piece online, about you taking me in and your charity work with kids’ programs after that. And he recognized my fighting style as Nightwing, so. It was just inevitable we’d cross paths, I guess. There’s just. There’s stuff between us that never got settled, you know?

Bruce: ...I’d almost forgotten that was where you first honed your skills with your escrima sticks. Why didn’t you ever tell me? Who he was...that you’d encountered him? Since...those days.

Dick finally looks up and studies Bruce carefully. Then he looks off to the side and sighs.

Dick: Because you’d forgotten that was where I first honed certain skills. And I didn’t particularly want to remind you, I guess.

He sighs again and shakes his head as Bruce looks about to respond.

Dick: Bruce, I....look, we’ve both put a lot of years and effort into not talking about this. Seems a shame to break our streak now. Can we just....this is just something I have to do, and I kinda need it not to be anything more than that right now. It’s just. I have to go.

Bruce: ....I understand.

Dick barks out another uncharacteristic laugh, sharp and reproachful, but at who, it’d be impossible for even him to say.

Dick: I doubt that. I don’t even understand. But I appreciate you trying to, and...letting this wait for another time. Like I said. I have to go. Sorry I can’t help out more with the case. I’ll see you all later.

Damian: Grayson, don’t be absurd! You can’t go! Whoever that man was, he’s clearly manipulating you!

Dick shakes his head and laughs one more time, but here, at least, its a bit warmer, a bit closer to his usual humor. He stops to ruffle his youngest brother’s hair as he passes him, before continuing on towards where his motorcycle is parked along the main causeway to the cave’s entrance.

Dick: Trust me, kiddo, I know. He’s not even trying to be subtle. It’s so....tacky.

All too soon, his engine roars to life, and then his cycle and its passenger speed out of the cave leaving behind only shadows, echoes, and the backglow of his headlights, all of which soon die away themselves.

In their wake, all eyes turn as one to Bruce, still seated in front of the Batcomputer.

Duke: I have questions.

Jason: I have comments.

Tim: I have concerns.

Bruce sighs.

[lonelyheartsclubhaze]

We Sold Our Souls to Instagram

September 2020 // Chapter 2

“No, I’m not going to pick you up.” I shook my head, visibly and audibly annoyed. “You know damn well that I’m not getting behind the wheel. I’m hanging up, sorry.”

Converting potential energy into kinetic, the iPhone X left my hand, skimming across the wave-front of my bed. My hands ruffled through my hair as I inhaled then sighed, absentmindedly channelling the virtues of cellular respiration.

Tired of this perpetual bullshit, my fingers slithered across the Ikea desk before me, eventually detecting the apple of my bedroom’s Eden: a lychee ice Puff Bar. My fingers honed in on the device, ensnaring it, raising it to my lips. A deep breath saved me from the agony of sobriety, the nicotine buzz lasting a moment. Then, it was lost.

Six soft, knuckled knocks rapped at the bedroom door. “It’s unlocked,” I shouted.

A creak later, the door swung open, revealing Adam. There was nobody else in the house anyway. With a global pandemic at large and wildfires blazing on deep into September, neither Ajay nor Cam had seen Dwight House since March. Just Adam and me.

“Yo, we out,” he said, pulling a reusable, black cloth mask under his chin. “Can’t see shit outside but we still drinking, dawg.” Ah, the charming vernacular of a Korean-American friend from the elite suburbs of the East Bay.

“It’s good. What’re we feeling today?” I had actually enjoyed the past six months with Adam—it had been a good bonding experience. Despite his rough tone around me and the rest of the guys, Adam was quite versatile in social settings, weaving between upper-class gentility at investment banking info sessions and middle-aged rednecks at gun ranges. With classical Berkeley-liberal ideologies and Wall Street Journal-reading, center-right-leaning, finance friends, Adam defied social realities.

Adam shrugged. “Could go for some Chimay. I’m feeling classy.”

“Not a bad idea at all, my friend,” I said. It had been awhile since I’d had a good beer like Chimay, and I was getting sick of Coors Banquets. “On the other hand, your timing just might be—a bad idea, I mean. Air looks cancerous outside.” Marmalade light cast by the wildfires of a fuming Earth engulfed Northern California, held in suspense by cool, Pacific layers of atmosphere. It was like we were on planet Arrakis, from Dune, or trapped in the world of David Bowie’s Ziggy Stardust.

“The air low-key is cancerous. AQI is pushing 180’s right now,” said Adam, raising his eyebrows.

“Looks like an N95-kinda day. I’ve got a spare, you know,” I said, gesturing to a pile of three or so N95 masks by the lamp on my desk.

Adam waved it off. “Eh, I’m good. That’s some puss shit. Let’s just run over to Crafts and Grapes or some shit, shouldn’t take long.”

I shrugged. “So be it.”

Tossing on a pair of five-and-a-half inch inseam Lululemon shorts, I joined Adam as he hopped downstairs.

“Got keys?” he asked once we reached the door.

“Yer, we out,” I said, shaking my keys out from my shorts’ pocket to lock the front door.

“Fuck,” griped Adam. “It’s actually hot as shit out here.” Smoky, red air obscured him from sight as he craned his neck to see me.

“Hence the shorts.”

Adam squinted his eyes, pursed his lips, and jutted his head back and forth, mocking me. “For sure. Forgot your MCAT-lovin’-ass could predict the future. But really though—it’s the middle of September, dude. This shit is wrong. It’s hot as balls and California is on fire and the sky is red and fools are straight-up dying off this COVID shit.”

“And you’re still an idiot,” I said, flashing a cheeky smile.

“Are you qualified to diagnose me as an idiot?”

“Maddie would say so.”

“Hence the pet names.”

“Precisely.”

“We gotta do something about this, bruh. This shit pains me to see,” declared Adam.

“Let’s start by drinking these brews. We’ll recycle the bottles after.”

We walked east on Dwight toward Telegraph, dodging cars as we skipped across the one way street. Adam was quieter than usual, for the most part, looking up from his iPhone 11 Pro Max periodically to comment on something he’d read in the news, or the glum weather. He wore a khaki short sleeve button-up, Kapital raw denim jeans with smiley face patchwork on the back left pocket, and a pair of slip-on Nike Janoski sneakers. The jeans were nice—quite expensive, from the looks of it—but looked baggy on him. He didn’t seem to mind. In fact, all of his clothes  wore a bit loose on him, akin to a fiery adolescent who’d picked out hand-me-downs from an older sibling. Who that older sibling might’ve been, I’d never know—with his unwavering demeanor, Adam always seemed like the eldest in the room.

Banking right onto Telegraph, we bore the full brunt of the veiled sun, which, though hidden behind dense clouds of smoke, now revealed its penetrating UV rays. We ducked under corrugated foam polycarbonate sheets, which lined the rooftops of mom-and-pop Telegraph shops, fending off the sun’s cancerous radiation. The insanity of the world mingled with the smoky, copper air, making me delirious. I imagined I was Mel Gibson or Tom Hardy in Mad Max, feigning off flashbacks in the Wasteland. At the corner of Telegraph and Blake street, Adam pushed and held open the door to Crafts and Grapes. Nodding my head at him in small thanks, I entered, squinting my eyes as the light shifted from hazy red to bright white inside. It was a tiny store, with two aisles directly ahead lined with candy, nuts, and other inconsequential (unless you ate too many) snacks, followed by two refrigerators: one in the back, the other on the far right. Cool, wispy air emanated from the cold storage, contrasting with the late summer atmosphere only meters behind us. A bell rang as the door squeaked to a halt, prompting the middle-eastern cashier, directly to our right, to rise from his stool and greet us. We nodded back silently, all three of us clad in masks.

Per usual, Adam took the lead, striding toward the fridge directly back. He popped open one of the see-through doors with his left hand, mapping his way through its items with his right pointer finger. Finding my eyes, Adam shook his head, indicating a lack of Chimay.

“Blue moons?” I suggested. “Mango wheats?”

Adam screwed up his face. “Fuck that. Let’s go with Lags.”

“Sure, why not.”

Adam kneeled and looped his hand through the cardboard handle of a Lagunitas StereoHopic IPA six-pack. We walked over to the register where Adam made small talk with the cashier. Eventually, he tapped his iPhone 11 to an Ingenico payment terminal, finalizing our transaction. Drinks acquired.

The bell jingled as the door shut behind us once more. We hurried home, eager to crack open our drinks, intent on droning out the blistered yonder. Adam tried to explain his enthusiasm for hoppy beers while I pretended to listen. He was distracting me, though; we both knew I couldn’t care less.

Arriving home, my keys found their way to the door, and we found our ways to the couch. A tenor beep resounded through our living room as Adam’s iPhone connected to an old speaker via bluetooth. “Street Lights” by Kanye West filled the air, followed by carbon dioxide bubbles freed by an unlikely liberator—the bottle opener.

Let me know

Do I still got time to grow?

Things ain’t always set in stone

That be known let me know

I found myself back in the hand-me-down BMW 330i, with her, the white wire packed into the lightning port of my iPhone, transmitting cosine waves that replicated the robotic voice I was listening to in my living room.

“Stop!” she cried, thrusting herself back against beige, leather seats. She wanted me to press the brakes. I had to stop the car, right, stop the car. Where were the brakes?

She was beautiful, of course.

Dark, brown hair fell over eyes of the same color, guarded by double-lids that I wish she hadn’t paid for.

Hardly anyone would notice the difference, but I did, and it hurt to know that she didn’t love them.

I loved them, unconditionally, but she loved the brakes.

Needed to find them.

We’d shared a large bowl of Marafuku’s acclaimed Hakata Tonkotsu DX ramen. I’d let her eat most of it, sneaking my chopsticks in for bites at intervals.

“Pennsylvania?” I shook my head.

“What, you’ve never been?” She tilted hers. “You’ll love it. Come with me.”

“You’re crazy,” I said, smiling. “My MCAT summer is coming up.”

She rolled her eyes. “Then I’ll help you study for it. Duh.”

“I’m sure Brandon would love that.”

“Will he? All the way from San Francisco?”

“He’ll make the trip.”

“Not if you do,” she said, melting my mind.

I was dizzy, sleepy, lost, a newborn. Vulnerable. And I couldn’t seem to find them.

I’m just not there in the streets

I’m just not there

Life’s just not fair

Life’s just not fair

Sonorant chimes reverberated in my ears as Adam clinked his glass bottle to mine. “Cheers,” he said with a nod.

“Cheers,” I echoed. Leaning my head back, I swallowed, allowing the cool liquid down my esophagus and into my gut.

“You good?” he prodded.

“Yeah,” I replied, my voice cracking a little. I cleared my throat.

“Pretty hoppy, huh?”

I took another sip, licking my lips after. “Quite. I suppose we knew what we were getting ourselves into. You know, given the ‘StereoHopic’.”

“You right.”

“Yeah.”

“Yo,” said Adam. “On another note—might be going in on an addy deal with Grace if you’re tryna hop in.”

I scratched my head. While I wouldn’t have any major exams in the near future (although midterms for my biochem course [MCB 102, for my fellow pre-med students at Cal] were slated for October sixteenth), I certainly had errands that might be eased by a twenty milligram dose of extended-release Adderall. There’s nothing like a thorough room-cleaning session when you’re high on stimulant drugs.

The first time I ever tried Adderall must’ve been during my freshman year, back in 2017. Midterm season was approaching—come to think of it, that was around this time that year—and our generous friend, Grace, was kind enough to grant me a ten milligram pill of instant-release Adderall. Grace and I, along with Adam and perhaps Ajay, too, were partaking in a midnight study session at Moffitt Library, which was open twenty-four-seven—prior to the pandemic. I popped the pill, chased it down with a Javiva drink from Peet’s, and got to work.

Twenty minutes later I began to feel its effects as the amphetamine altered monoamines in my brain, releasing surplus dopamine into my many synaptic clefts. Optimism filled me to the brim and my vision bent inward. I saw nothing but the iPad in front of me, my mind enamored by golgi apparatuses and various protein structures. The stimulant saturated me with a profound appreciation for all thoughts that meandered into my head; a giddiness originated in my heart, spreading down my arms, my legs, and outward across my skull, contracting then expanding once more. It was artificial love.

Eventually, I was distracted. Grace’s dilated pupils stared into mine as she chattered away  about Lin-Manuel Mir-something and a hurricane in Puerto Rico. After a second or two, my attention snapped away from cell membranes, landing instead on her words. The words of a girl from Colorado with a soft spot for the snow. I’d met Grace via Adam during Orientation Week and she’d quickly become one of my favorite people.

Gingerbread specks stippled her face like a George Seurat painting, fractal constellations arising as my eyes outlined her cheekbones. Gaps between long, chocolate locks revealed sepia collarbones, lined with descendants of the freckles on her face. A white Nike Alex Morgan soccer jersey overlaid the loose sweatpants that hung from her hips, held up by drawstrings I almost hoped would fail, concealing proportions that emulated golden ratios. Stained, white, laceless Vans hugged unpainted toes that tapped together when she spoke. Lips that scorned the artificially enlarged mouths of Instagram influencers communicated messages I was only barely beginning to listen to. She was the love interest of a nineties’ coming-of-age motion picture. But she wasn’t mine.

You know, I thought Adam might’ve loved her, but it was hard to tell when he was cycling through hookups with three different girls at a time. Come to think of it, I didn’t know if Adam loved anyone. A talker, yes; a charmer, certainly; but a romantic, I really didn’t think so.

He spent a lot of his time with her, no doubt. And she cared for him—anyone could see it. But she knew as well as I did that his head wasn’t in it. He wasn’t looking for love. He wanted to graduate, make money—to be someone. Sex seemed like nothing more than a physical need to him. I don’t think anyone would’ve described Adam as an emotionally vulnerable guy, and I don’t think anyone thought that emotion was what he kept those girls around for.

But at the same time, anyone could’ve seen what I saw in the way he bounced when she was around. Anyone could’ve heard the way he spoke about her. She meant something to him. But when you asked him about it, he’d brush it off; she wasn’t his type, or he had commitment issues (jokingly—but hey, grain of truth in everything).

Maybe she was his distraction from ambition—his distraction from latex-wrapped, emotionally removed nights and Wall Street Journal mornings, just as she was my distraction from cell structures.

For a good hour-and-a-half, Grace entertained me with conversation regarding natural disasters across the West; Broadway musical comparisons between Hamilton and Sunday in the Park with George; and the latest updates on Cal’s women’s soccer team, of which she was a huge fan. The Adderall certainly kept me focused, although not necessarily on my coursework.

“Let me know,” said Adam, tipping the bottle into the corner of his mouth. “I’m boutta text her back.”

I looked up from my lap at Adam. Right, I thought. “Sure, I could be down. Why not. Think you can pick me up two? I have some errands to run.”

“Twenty milligram XR work?” he asked as he tapped along the screen of his iPhone.

“That’ll do.”

The room went quiet for twenty to twenty five seconds as I was confirmed as an accomplice in the drug deal.

“What’s she been up to?” I asked.

“Hm?” he noised, raising his eyebrows without looking up.

“Grace,” I said. “Haven’t seen her much.”

He shrugged. “Not much, I guess. Drinking a solid amount though, from what I’ve seen.”

“Makes three of us.”

“Yeah,” he said, feigning a smile. “What about yours?”

“Maddie?”

“Yeah.”

I took a deep breath—inhaling, holding to the count of four, exhaling. “Not much of a difference, to be honest.”

“It’s not her fault, you know.”

“I know,” I breathed.

“Then talk to her.”

“It’s not like that,” I mumbled.

Adam paused.

I stared at my feet. “I’m sorry, Adam.”

He squinted. “The fuck you sorry for?”

“You know.”

He waved his hand aside, brushing it off. “I’m not tripping. Talk to her. Before I do it myself.”

I forced a smile. “Maybe it’s better off that way.”

“Here,” he said, handing me a two-foot-tall bong and lighter from under the coffee table. “Take it.”

Couldn’t stay away. My fingers gripped the paraphernalia as he withdrew. My heart quickened as the impending drug interaction approached. When it reached my lips, I lit, then inhaled, holding to the count of four, and then some. Blurry feelings rushed my mind as states of sufferance gave way to sedated nebulas, teaching me forgetfulness.

[deltaengineering]

Imagine there was a summer 2020 anime season

Sorry I bailed on the season impressions, it just got depressing. Though that does mean I actually watched only decent and up shows this season.

No Guns Life

Well, “decent” is somewhat debatable. No Guns Life is still nothing but its key visual voiced by Junichi Suwabe. But it’s a very cool key visual, and a very cool voice actor. The noir mood, when present, delivers - the long and short of it is that every scene with saxophone music is good. I didn’t feel the rest much though, because I just can’t bring myself to care about Tetsuro, or Mary’s brother, or fucking Pepper of all people. And a lot of the season, including the climax, sure did revolve around them a lot, huh. Not to mention that there is of course nothing that could be considered an ending, but I knew that already. And I knew the rest of the problems already too, to be honest, so I’m hardly disappointed. Everything about Juzo, character development, flashbacks, having a gun for a head, etc, was still good. 6/10

Diary of Our Days at the Breakwater

Well guess the fuck what, Doga Kobo made a Kiraralike about fishing. 6/10

Okay, okay, fine. Breakwater is well above average for this kind of show (better than Koisuru Asteroid if nothing else), but it’s still not outstanding or even memorable - It’s not as good as Yuru Camp, and that’s not mentioning examples I think are actually significantly better than Yuru Camp. On the other hand, it does nothing wrong (drunk teacher character probably gets the closest, but it doesn’t amount to a whole problem) and several things right, such as, yes, being chill and unexciting. So it’s better than expected, but the score doesn’t change. 6/10

Deca-Dence

Hey, Deca-Dence is cool. Not the most innovative, but a nice mashup of action anime things with some cool visual flair. It’s pretty fun! Even if everything related to the tankers (including Natsume) eventually turns out to be nothing but a prop for Kabu’s development. Oh and the monster CG is fucking terrible, so I can’t call it a feast for the eyes. But yeah, fine seasonal consumption anime.

Of course that’s not the story with this property though. D-D is fine, good even, but it was hyped up to nauseating levels because the creative team Mob Psycho 100 and other overrated nonsense was involved. I don’t want to talk about MP100 yet again but D-D looks nowhere near as good, not does the writing stink as much. The point of this isn’t MP100 anyway, but that this review is dedicated to the people who convinced themselves that D-D was amazing before they ever saw a frame of it, continued to call it amazing when it continued to not be, then fantasized about it was the most savage takedown of capitalism since Das Kapital when the best it had to offer was some generic “authoritarianism bad, yo” takes (not wrong, but also something so tepid that even noted thematic tire fire Darling in the Franxx managed to do it), and finally docked it half a point from perfection when the ending wasn’t at all about the thing the show never was about in the first place. A moderately clever, mostly good looking, generally entertaining anime with an insufferable fanbase. 7/10

Appare-Ranman

So here’s where we get to the real good stuff. Appare-Ranman has low to moderate ambition (the idea here is to be goofy and fun first and foremost), but the execution is ace - especially the writing, which is essentially perfect for what it wants to do and introduces just enough realness on the edges to not turn into a complete frivolity. Once you get used to the character designs (which are definitely an acquired taste, but I can’t say they don’t fit the show), it’s smooth cruising. The pacing is on point as well, turns out that there’s something to the idea of writing an original TV show in a way that perfectly fits its episodic presentation. And yes, Kenjiro Tsuda completely obliterates the scenery in the role of mild-mannered, low-key gentleman racer Richard Riesman, which seems oddly outside of his wheelhouse but okay. 8/10

Great Pretender

Now this is a hard followup to write, because most of what’s rad about Appare-Ranman is also rad about Great Pretender. Except GP is just, on average, even better at it, and it features a more interesting conceit and more ambition to boot. I love how it looks (yes, really), I love the character designs, and I love me some heist movies. This is the closest we ever got to a real Cowboy Bebop of this generation, and by that I mean that it’s another instance of “Lupin III, with some contemporary updates, and what if we just make every episode good”. There’s still some problems that keep it from being excellent, but it’s mostly minor things and not core issues -  things like the occasional overuse of insert songs. Or that the villains are set up as being more than just a bit too evil for how lighthearted everything always plays out in the end (this matters less than you’d think because it doesn’t lead to whiplash, it’s very gradual). And yes, more ambitious than Appare-Ranman, but hardly very ambitious on an absolute scale. In the end, all of those are fridge problems – something that lowers the score when I gots me thinkin’ trousers on, but not much of anything that dampens the enjoyment in the moment. In fact, it’s better than Kaguya S2 so  fall season will have to try unusually hard to keep this from AOTY. 8.49998/10

[iwouldratherprocrastinate]

TroyxReader/Borderlands 3 Rewrite

Growing up on Pandora was rough to say the least, I learned early on that it was kill or be killed. Add on top of that being a Siren and I had a small chance of survival. With my tattoos being across my chest and both arms, I got accustommed to wearing my signature turtleneck long sleeve, to help combat the heat of the surrounding area, I at least cut it into a crop top. On the plus, living in constant fear of bandits attacking had kept me fit through the years.

Currently I was running for my life from some psychos and tinks who decided I was their next target. Breathing heavy, I ran around a bend and face planted into a firm body, falling flat on my ass. "Fuck!" Looking up, I saw the familiar uniform of the Crimson Raiders, 'I'm saved!! Fuck yeah!' Scrambling to my feet, I jump behind the soldier and see two more of them behind, they quickly took out their guns and dispatched the bandits after me. That my friends is how I owed my life to the Crimson Raiders.

Living with the Raiders was the best time of your life until Handsome Jack ruined it all. So now you and Lilith were on your way to meet the new Vault Hunters as they cleared out a COV post. I told Lilith I could have done it myself, but she insisted on bringing in help, her words were exactly "I get what you are saying kid, but I can't afford to lose you too." She had become like a mother to you and losing Roland hit her really hard. She was protective of me even before he got killed, but afterwards she really tightened her grip around me. Hardly letting me out alone, if I was allowed out my pet skag pup, not that he could do much really. Montag as I call him, I rescued him when his mother wandered a bit too close to Lil. Both moms got a bit aggressive, so I had to save him before he acted on instinct. Ever since he has been attached at my hip, it baffles everyone who meets us.

Enough story time, back to what you all came here for. Lil grabbed my hand and we flashed to the new 4 Vault Hunters, they were pretty impressive. The leader I presumed was a buff Siren, she was really pretty. I felt myself swooning a little and had to real myself back in. The second one was a small girl about my height who wore military gear, she looked tough as hell. The third was an older man who appeared to be slightly drunk with a hologram of himself behind him. The fourth was a robot who seemed pretty ordinary until my eyes met the skag at his side wearing a bandana. Monty ran to it and began winding through its legs making as close to a bark noise as a skag can get. Giggling, I ran forward and pet the new skag, "What is his name?" The robot seemed confused by this, "His name is Mr.Chew and I am designated FL4K" I grinned up at him, "He is cute, you all can call me Medic! I will be your mandatory healer." Lilith went a bit stern, "We never discussed this. You have to stay with me."

Grumbling, I pouted, "B-But, I can do so much more helping them! Come on, I am an adult now. I wanna help..." The buff Siren spoke up, "I wouldn't object to a healer helping out." She turned to me and smiled, "By the way I am Amara." My face turned bright red as I nodded, "Thank you and pleasure to meet you.."

Lilith sighed, "I will think about it." Looking at her with a hopeful face, 'That is the closest to a yes I have gotten! Yes!' The short one chuckled gravelly at my face and stuck out her hand for a fist bump, "I am Moze, good to meet ya kid!" I grinned and bumped her fist while the older man turned and his hologram spoke, "I am Zane, now that we have introductions out of the way, should we go inside and plan our next move?"

Lilith smirked and nodded, "Yeah, their is a space we can use further inside this place, let's go." We all followed her while Monty continued harassing Mr.Chew. Mr.Chew was surprisingly tolerant of the little one. It made you glad inside to know that Monty finally had another one of his kind to play with. He was too scared to leave your side, so he never met any skags except the ones you killed. Even those were few and far between due to not wanting to kill them in front of him.

Once we arrived at the back room, Lilith discussed with the Vault Hunters what they had to do before we coudl all leave and go onto Santuary. She remained firm that I had to stay with her or Ellie until we got to Santuary. She knew I was a Siren, but no one else did, she wanted me safe until we had a home base we could run to in case of danger. I decided to go hang out with Ellie for most of it. She has always been my favorite person to spend most of my time with, she helped me develop my tech that allowed me to be a Medic.

See, I knew I had to have another skill if I was gonna hide my powers. I needed something else to make me a good team member, so Ellie and I made some nanotech to heal others. It is similar to Hammerlock's sisters tech, We actually studied hers to make the base for mine. I am happy with how it came out, I just had to touch my hand to the persons skin to activate it. It came in handy alot, it automatically attempts to heal me. It just made me more frustrated by the fact that I couldn't leave and explore.

Anyway, at least Ellie let me hunt down bandits near her garage, she called it 'Spring Cleaning". Monty enjoyed it as well, he got to snack on the bodies. It is gross if you think about it too hard, that's why I try not to. It makes him happy, so I let him do it. By the time I got done with another Cleaning, Santuary was ready to go and Lil was transporting everyone to the ship.

We were waiting for the Vault Hunters to come through the door when suddenly it closed on them and I gripped onto Lilith's arm out of habit.

Following Lilith's eyes, we had the Calypso twins prowling around us, 'Fucking great! Just what we needed..' Lilith held onto me protectively while also gripping the vault key as tightly as she could.

Tyreen stopped on front of us and Troy behind, when I looked back to keep an eye on him, we locked eyes. I froze, both of the twins were not what I was expecting, but the taller male twin had really pretty eyes. 'Did I seriously just think about how pretty his eyes are when they are probably gonna kill us?? Get it together y/n..' He had me locked in a stare off as he smirked like he knew I was admiring him.

Tyreen spoke up snapping my attention forward, "Firehawk. Just give me the map." I looked up at Lilith worried for what she was gonna say next, "No. Way." Tyreen smirked happily, "Cool. Let's DO THIS!"

Lilith as if knowing what was gonna happen, teleported me up onto a platform to keep me safe. Just as she did that, Tyreen took advantage of her lack of focus and launched Lilith with her powers. The Vault key got launched into the air and Troy caught it doing a little trick.

'Fuck, Lilith is in trouble and I can't fucking do anything! If I show my powers, they will know I am a Siren and probably kill me..'

Then Troy sent out two surveyor bots, one to watch Lilith and Tyreen fight presumably to stream it to their followers and one to watch me. 'Why the hell is there one watching me?'

Drawing my attention to the fight, it seemed that Lilith was getting the upper hand until Tyreen punched her, by this point I was trying to hide the tears pouring down my face. Watching my mother figure get beat down like this with no way to help fucking sucked. It felt like a bowling ball to the gut.

Troy chuckled at the face Lilith made in pain, "Ohohoho, this is gold!" My eyes fixated on Lilith, I didn't notice Tyreen charging up a ball of energy until Lilith completely blocked it with a pillar of fire. Without thinking I yelled, "Yes!" and immediately shrank back when Troy smirked up at me.

Lilith took this opportunity to teleport behind him and punch him down, as he struggled to move away, she grew shocked to see Siren tattoos on his arm. Ny nouth was hung open as I gasped and covered my mouth.

"You're a Siren?" This couldn't be the case, Lilith knew of all the possible Sirens at the moment. Troy wore the smirk that seemed to be permanetly glued to his face, "Heh. Yeah... well... Runs in the family."

I looked up and barely had time to yell out, "Lilith, behind you!" before Tyreen had her by the neck. I chocked back a scream. Tyreen looked pissed, "I'm the Siren. He's just a parasite. Literally." I flinched at her choice of words, 'Wow, rude.' Lilith tried to break free as best she could, but it seemed that Tyreen was using her powers. "When we were born, our father had to cut him off of me! Now I'M the only thing keeping him alive."

Lilith looked paler than usual as she managed to speak, "What are you....doing?!" Tyreen seemed smug, "I can leech the power from any living thing. Even you, Firehawk."

"Legendary Vault Hunter, Slayer of the Destroyer, Firehawk. So many titles, so little impact!" Lilith's hand slid down from a fist to hang weakly at her side, this brought me to my knees with worry. 'Come on Lil, hang in there. I got my nanos ready.' I tried to project this into her head as best I could, she had been trying to teach me how to, but she only had time for so much teaching being the leader of the Crimson Raiders.

Tyreen shrugged, "Well, I've taken your powers--might as well finish you off." My body jolted up and yelled, "No!" She didn't even glance my way, but the tallr twin did, if only for a short second. He grunted "Ngh... Ty... Tyreen!" It seems he needed her to help him up. She groaned, "Fine.."

Dropping Lilith, she turned to grab her brothers hand and help him up. It looked like she was transferring some of her energy to him as she did so. Lilith weakly crawled towards the key, 'Stop Lil... Please... Just play dead, so I can help you...' Troy came over and kicked her in the gut before she could reach the key, "Ooooooh! Uh-uh-uh. Man, you should've seen your face. You, you, you were like, "Oh, my powers! Boo-hoo!" Ty--Ty, c'mon! We're live in three, two," You decided then that you hated these bastards. Mostly for hurting Lil, but also for that shit joke he made.

Tyreen got in position in front of the camera and put on her stage persona, you zoned out until you heard them talking about you afterwards while bandits prowled around. Tyreen pointed up at me, "Should we do something about her?" Troy shrugged, "Eh, she seemed like small fry. Leave her to the bandits." They both teleported out, or so you thought. As you jumped down from the platform, they were nearby watching you to see what your deal is.

"Fuck! Lil! Stay with me! The nanos are powered up.." Putting your hands on her stomach, you let the bots get to work as Monty ran over to you, "Shit! Fuckers are gonna pay for this.." Monty curled up against her while I healed. The Vault Hunters busted in just as some bandits were rounding up on us, while they defended us, Lilith grabbed my wrist, "We gotta get to Santuary." I nodded and helped her up while calling for Monty, "C'mon boy! Let's go."

The twins were intrigued to say the least, Tyreen smirked, "Maybe we should take her. Hmmm.." Troy smirked, he could think of some ways to play. Tyreen grabbed his hand, "Another time, we got a Vault to find."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Arriving in Promethea was an insane experience for me, I had never left small parts of Pandora, let alone the entire planet. I was still worried about Lil, but my bots did as much as they could in the situation. Now that I had my chance to explore, I decided to stick close to FL4K, he was the most like me, we got along the best, plus since he is a bot, Lilith didn't mind us sharing a bedroom on the ship. The pups had a blast. Turns out he had other pets as well, they were just in a digistruct type container, he gave me one as well. He said it can only have one beast out at a time.

Every time I fight, I have to resist the urge to just fight with my powers, it would make my time easier, but it isn't a good time for people to know. My travel companions don't even know, only Lil and Ellie. I needed my powers now, especially since she had lost hers. Any time my mind drifted to that moment, my mind reminded me of Troy's eyes and how mesmerizing they were. 'Stop! You are the Medic! Keep your head in the game, he is the enemy..' I shook my head and heard a voice swearing at the bandits and shooting, for a moment I forgot about my group and fought my way over to a girl with black and turqouise hair. She was gorgeous and her accent. It sent a shiver down your spine, 'Gotta stop admiring everyone I meet..' I hated how I fangirled over any pretty face, but I couldn't help it.

She grinned excitedly at me as the rest of the bandits were taken out and my team caught up to me, "Heya! The name's Lorelai. Pleasure to meet ya!" She explained the situation to us all while walking towards her safe spot with Atlas soldiers. I have heard some stuff about the Atlas CEO, apparently he has a robot arm. I am dying to take a look at it.

Lorelai wanted us to take back a building where we could contact Rhys from. Approaching the location of the building, everyone prepped their weapons and I got my sniper off my back and peaked through it, "I see about 20 Maliwan men outside, 5 of them are heavys, hard to tell from here with the others. I can take out some of the small fry, if you all focus the heavys." Everyone was surprised at my sudden take of control, but nodded nonetheless. Amara and Moze took the front charging at the heavys while the rest provided them with cover fire. I focused on the flash troopers I could see, expertly shooting into their back chargers. When they started exploding left and right, my team whooped and started working harder with the added motivation of successs.

After they finished cleaning up the rest of the Maliwan men, I hoisted Monty into my arms and jogged over to them, "That was amazing! I have only ever fought bandits, this was so different!" I twirled in a circle holding Monty in my arms giggling. Amara smirked and patted me on the head, " C'mon kid, we gotta talk to that CEO."

Lorelai chuckled and led the way, "So Medic, why do they call you that? You seem like an ordinary Vault Hunter to me." I smirked and summoned a cloud of my nanobots, "These are my pride and joy. Healing nanobots, I touch someone skin to skin and they get healed, I have some chips inbedded in me, that activate them when I touch someone. Took Ellie and I 3 years to perfect." Lorelai seemed really impressed by this, "Damn, I didn't think you were a child protege looking at you."

Everyone laughed while I had my mouth open in shock, " I'm not a kid! I am 21!" Lorelai broke out laughing, "Oh god! I am sorry, you are just so small!" I huffed and walked over to the control panel in the building, "Let's just call Rhys.." Crossing my arms, Rhys came up on the screen, "Hello, you have reached Rhys CEO and owner of Atlas corporation. Who are you and how did you get this number!?" He freaked out a bit at the sight of the Vault Hunters, his eyes drifted to Lorelai as she spoke, "Rhys, these are Vault Hunters and they came looking for a Vault or information on it."

He looked down at us, "Well I don't know anything about a Vault, but my operative out in the field can probably help you if you seek him out." Lorelai then noticed the mustache on his face, "What is that furball on your face Rhys??" I giggled at her wording, "I think it looks okay." He smirked at my comment, "This is my seige mustache, it garners moral with the troops. Plus she likes it, who are you by the way?"

With blush on my cheeks, I smile at him, "I am the Medic, I'm with the Vault Hunters." He seemed intrigued by this, "Are you a Siren?" I jumped on the inside while avoiding the question, "I have medical nanobots. They activate on contact." He seemed impressed by this and nodded, "Huh, we might have to discuss tech sometime." My insides lit up at the opportunity to talk to more people about tech, not many people growing up were interested in it.