#its largely there to keep these two idiots interacting

[serasfanfiction]

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

The next few days were peaceful. The kind of peaceful Lucifer hadn't experienced since the Hotel was in the process of being rebuilt. He hadn't realized how much stress Alastor was causing him until he backed off.

Lucifer might even have gotten a full nights sleep last night! That hadn't happened in an especially long time!

(He wasn't thinking about the fact that his sleep had been haunted by the caress of teeth along his neck or glimpses of red, red sated eyes.)

The images threatened to steal his attention, even as he tried to bury them down with all the other things he was refusing to think about at this point. He forced himself to pay attention, tuning in as Charlie said, excitedly, "She's already spending half her time here! It's really only a matter of time before she agrees to join us full time!"

The campaign to get Cherri Bomb to join the Hazbin Hotel had been having mixed results since the fight with Adam and her participating in the rebuilding. She was clearly here mostly for Angel, but it seemed that the other denizens of the hotel were growing on her. Charlie was correct in that the cyclops spent just as much time at the hotel as she did were ever else she landed when she wasn't with them. She even had a room of her own, even if she didn't officially claim it. It definitely helped it was right next door to her best friend.

Lucifer patted her shoulder. "She'll come around in her own time. Remember, for this to work, they have to actually want it."

Charlie placed her hand over her father's, biting her lip and near bursting with excitement. "I know, but it just feels like we're so close! It'll be so great when she agrees."

"Yes, but in the meantime, we'll just continue to make her feel welcome." He smiled at her proudly. "Which you're already doing so well at!"

Charlie's returned the smile, pleased with his feedback.

The moment, like so often when one lives in Hell, was suddenly and abruptly interrupted by the entire building shaking.

Angel appeared on the landing of the second floor, the one that overlooked the main entrance and foyer. "What the hell? We haven't had any shady guests lately, have we?"

Alastor stepped out of the shadows near the entrance, a loud boom ringing out as something large and heavy hit the door.

Lucifer was suddenly glad he had reinforced the structure. It wasn't impossible that someone could break in through brute force, especially if someone was extremely determined, but the sheer effort would give the hotel guests ample time to mount a defense.

Loud shouting came from outside, words unintelligible through the thickness of it. Alastor ignored the hostile aura premating from outside as if he couldn't even feel it, throwing open the door.

"Oh my, you are quite annoying," he greeted the group at their door. The two fellas up front, stooges and the muscle by the look of them, were holding a large battering ram. Alastor eyed it distastefully. "Whatever business could you have with us that is worth all this racket?"

A nervous looking demon cleared his throat, unwisely drawing the Radio Demon's full attention. "We." He swallowed, complexion growing paler the longer Alastor stared at him. In a rush, he stated, "We were sent here to send a message!"

The radio host tilted his head to the side. "Message?"

The group glanced at each other, clearly psyching themselves up. Nodding, the 'leader' proclaimed, "Yeah, 'give up this shitty mission, or else.'"

"Or else what?"

The group collectively drew their weapons, an assortment of guns and knives. "Or else we're going to have to use force."

The widening of Alastor's grin should have been a warning. Lucifer would have felt bad for the little idiots for not seeing the flaming pile of shit they had just stepped in, but they were in the process of threatening his daughter and that was just a big no go for him.

"Oh, you really don't want to do that." Lucifer came up to stand beside Alastor, hands coming up in a shooing motion. "Like, seriously. Go back to whoever sent you and tell them they don't get a second warning."

The leader blinked down at him. He must have been new to Hell, because he asked, "And who are you?"

"Oh, little ol' me?" Lucifer's wings and horns appeared in all their full glory. "I'm the Devil, bitches."

The group barely had time to do little more than gape before they were sent tumbling arse over head from a powerful gust of wind, curtesy of the before mentioned wings. Fully prepared to rough them up a little before sending them on their way, Lucifer stepped out of the hotel.

Only to be halted by something wrapping around his waist. He glanced down at what appeared to be a shadow about the thickness of a vine. Now, where had that come from?

"Now, now, your Majesty, that won't do."

Ah, yes. Of course, it was one of Alastor's shadow tentacle things.

"Oi! Put me down!" The blond protested as he was picked up and then deposited on one of the second floor balconies.

Alastor didn't bother looking back at him. His tone was that of a parent talking to a particularly petulant child as he ordered, "Why don't you stay up there for a bit? There's really no need for you to get involved."

Lucifer had half a mind to take not just the goons out, but Alastor as well, but ultimately decided to let the Radio Demon have his fun. Besides, he was looking a little peckish lately. "Just leave one alive so they can tell their boss to back off!"

Down below, Charlie chimed in with, "Or we could leave all of them alive?"

Alastor near cackled as he grew in size, the invaders suddenly realizing they were in serious danger and attempting to make a run for it. Shadow creatures began to rise out of the ground, breaking off their get away. "Nonesense!" Alastor disagreed cheerfully. "Everyone mysteriously disappearing is a much more delicious way of keeping people on their feet!"

Lucifer rolled his eyes. Oh, he bet it was 'delicious.'

A noise behind him drew his attention. Lucifer looked over his shoulder, finding himself eye to eye with a wolf demon he'd never seen a day in his life. Especially not one that had no business sneaking into the hotel with a knife he was clearly intending to use.

They started at each other for a long moment. The guy must have been an idiot, because he apparently decided he wanted to take his chances and attempt to stab the King of Hell himself.

Lucifer reached up, fully intending to catch the blade. Under normal circumstances, weapons made in Hell couldn't hurt him and would have just shattered on contact.

But this blade wasn't just an ordinary blade made it Hell. Lucifer realized it must have been made from Angelic Steel when the knife cut straight through his hand like a hot knife through butter. He winced, despite himself. Somehow, he'd forgotten how much that could hurt.

The wolf demon made the mistake of not pressing his advantage, seeming to think that the pain of something as simple as a knife through the hand would be enough to make the first being to ever lead a rebellion against a real army to pause. Oh no, all it did was infuriate him.

Lucifer pressed his hand down the knife further, allowing him to take hold of the hilt. The demon's grip went slack with shock, allowing the blond to wretch it out of his hand. With his good hand, Lucifer yanked the offensive object out, carelessly tossing it onto one of the other neighboring balconies, where it would be of little use during this battle and could be retrieved later. "Oh, that was a very poor decision." Giving no quarter, he darted forward to wrap his hand around the demon's throat, wings flapping to give him the hieght to do so. "Tell me why you're up here, before I decide to be rid of you regardless."

The wolf grunted, hands clawing uselessly at his arm. He managed to choke out, "Like we said: we're just here to send a message."

Lucifer looked down at where Alastor was rounding up the last couple of stragglers, tossing a third into his mouth. The little nervous demon from before appeared to have peed himself from fright. The seraphim turned back to his captive. Something told him that those boo zoos were a mere distraction and this was the real leader of the group. Shaking him a little, Lucifer demanded, "Who sent you?"

A sneer came in response. "We're just for hire. We get a call and we do the job, no questions asked."

Lucifer realized he wasn't going to get anything of use out of this guy. And since he was likely the only real threat of the group, the blond didn't feel comfortable letting him be the return messenger.

A beat of his wings had them air born, bringing them to hover over Alastor, who's ears perked up as he realized he was about to get another morsel. "Whelp, in that case, it sounds like you're useless to me. Guess I'll just hand you over to the Alastor--"

"W-wait!" The wolf demon frantically choked out, "Isn't this p-place for s-second chances! Your d-daughter believes in that s-shit, doesn't she?"

Lucifer's eyes narrowed. "You're right. My daughter does have a gift for seeing the best in people, even when there isn't any. But me? My curse is that I'm damned to always see the worst in all of you." Between one blink to the next, he let his form bleed into it's most demonic, hellfire igniting and his broken halo taking form as the true crown of Hell manifested. His True Eyes opened along his coat, Seeing right through this worthless soul and all of his sins. "Tell me, honestly, do you regret, even a little, for pushing Elizabeth in front of that train? Did you care in the least that her husband only had a handful of voicemails to remember her voice by? That her son grew up without any memories of his own mother?"

The wolf demon gasped for breathe, eyes wild. "The- the reporter? I had to kill her." He squirmed and yanked to no avail, Lucifer's hand like steel around his neck. Frantically, he added, "She was no-no one! She- she was going to ruin everything!"

Lucifer sneered. "Wrong answer."

Without hesitation, he opened his fist. The wolf demon shrieked as he fell, the shrill sound abruptly cutting off as Alastor closed his mouth around his treat.

The nervous little demon, perhaps smarter than they gave him credit for, took advantage of the distraction to make his get away. Alastor let him in favor of watching his king, eyes alight and calculating.

Lucifer hovered above him, every one of his eyes trained on the sinner below him. He realized that while he had seen Alastor in his full eldritch form during their first meeting, this would be the first time Alastor was seeing him in his own full demonic form.

Alastor, like in every aspect of his life, neither blinked nor cowered. He brought up a hand, the motion that puppet slowness he'd showed when Lucifer had manifested the pair of deer ears. He brought it up until it hovered just below the Devil's feet.

Lucifer squinted at him, not trusting that if he let himself land in Alastor's hand, the latter wouldn't just drop him out of spite.

He never found out either way, as he became distracted by Charlie's alarmed shout of "Oh my goodness, Dad!"

Alarmed, Lucifer spun around, his demonic features melting away into his normal appearance. "Charlie? What's wrong?" He came down to land in front of her, reaching out to make certain nothing had gotten past them to hurt her. "Are you okay?"

Charlie grabbed onto his hand, causing him to wince. Horrified, she cried out, "Forget me! Your hand is hurt." She hissed as she assessed the full extent of the damage. "Oh shit, it went all the way through!" She twisted around to shout back at the other behind her. "Vaggie! Bandages!"

Lucifer held up his free hand. "It's fine, sweetie, really. It'll heal up in no time. Really, I'd be more worried about any survivors. Alastor is way too enthusiastic for a guard dog." He glanced over his shoulder at Alastor, who had shrunk down to his normal size. Lucifer caught a glimpse of a gold coated tongue past the the hand the red head had up to his mouth. Lucifer found himself reassessing if Alastor had been offering him a hand after all or if he had just been taking the opportunity to get another taste of angel blood.

Judging by the pleased look on the deer demon's face, and the fact that he was letting 'guard dog' comment slide, it was most likely the latter.

And this was why Lucifer had trust issues when it came to this little shit.

Charlie tugged him towards the inside of the hotel, saying something about bandaging his hand. He was forced to break eye contact with his rival or keep his daughter from carrying on with his fretting. Really, it was all too much. It would take longer than the usual for injury to heal - the scar would barely be noticeable in a few days! - there was really no need for all this fussing! He even tried to say as such, which turned out to be a bad idea, because now Charlie was making sad eyes at him and really he was just going to be quiet and let her do her thing because it was so much better than her crying.

In the mess of the clean-up, Lucifer completely forgot about the angelic blade.

tbc

Part 5

[thefailedabortioon]

|| Carlos de Vil & a crush • X F!Reader

warnings: n/a

authors note: it isnt mentioned who your parent is its up to you for that! mb if its messy i havent written an x reader in like an eon LMAO.

summary: carlos de vil tries to deal with a crush and has his first interaction since first seeing her. (alternate title: jay is an amazing wingman.)

word count: roughly 900 words

A red ball bounced off the wall of Carlos’ and Jay’s shared dorm. Dude chased after it, tongue sticking out as he panted. When Carlos received the ball back, it’d been completely soaked in dog slobber, earning a disgusted groan from him.

“Ugh, Dude.”

“What? I don’t have hands for paws!” The Brussels Griffon retorted.

Carlos rolled his eyes and turned over to Jay, who’d recently set up a little punching bag for training. It’s all he ever came to the room to do besides sleeping.

“What am I gonna do, man? Do you think she even likes me?” Carlos had recently taken a sudden interest in a girl that’d passed by him in the Great Hall… flowing dark hair, elegant clothes (she actually managed to make the uniform look good), and her face. God, her face. Carlos could stare at her for days. She’s seriously all he’d been thinking about.

“Chillax, she probably doesn’t even know your name.” Jay realized what he’d said and stopped hitting the punching bag for a second to look at his woeful friend, “Or… she does! And she’s curious about you too!” He tried to keep his spirits high and uplifting, surprising behavior for the guy if Carlos was being honest.

“I’m doomed.”

“Just talk to her, you coward!” Dude yipped, beady black eyes piercing into Carlos’ own. “You need to get to know her name first before you start thinking way ahead, you know?!”

Jay cut in, “Wait, you don’t even know her name?!” He cackled, running his both hands through his hair in amusement.

“Shut up! Oh my, God!” Carlos threw a pillow towards Jay, hiding his face behind his hands.

“It’s pathetic. Really!” Dude barked out, making biscuits on the pillow Carlos threw at Jay.

Carlos turned to his side, facing the wall. He hugged himself tightly, crossing his arms over his chest for comfort. He brought his knees down, letting his legs hang from the foot of the bed.

It didn’t take a while for Jay to finally take pity on him. He sat beside Carlos on his bed, muscular arms resting behind his back. “Sounds to me you really… like her.” If it wasn’t any more obvious. Jay snickered to himself. “What if I lend you a hand?”

At that, Carlos immediately shot up. “What?! What’re you going to do?! Talk to her?!”

“No, you idiot! You’re talking to her.” Jay said with a smug smile. Carlos wasn’t too fond of the idea, what if he messed up? What if the wrong words slipped out? Everything and anything could go wrong!

“No. No! I can’t! She’ll hate me!”

“Carlos.” Jay pulled Carlos to face him, hands gripping his shoulders, his eyes dug deep into Carlos’ own, staring back intensely at two circles of brown. “Man. The hell. Up.”

The other let out an exasperated groan, pulling away from Jay’s grip to let himself fall back flat on the bed.

It shouldn’t have been that hard, right? Jay had already given Carlos a set of questions he can start off with, scribbled messily on the palm of his hand. So the conversation can go smoothly from there.

He turned to look at Jay who hid in a potted plant not too far behind, an earpiece tucked under his long hair. Carlos also wore an earpiece, a lot more visible than Jay’s but it shouldn’t matter.

Jay gave Carlos an assuring thumbs up signal as he ducked down in the leaves.

Carlos took a deep breath, raising a fist to knock against a dorm room, when suddenly it swung open violently, revealing you. The De Vil boy had nothing to say, words getting stuck in his throat.

You both continued to stare at each other before you finally broke the awkward silence. “Uh, can I… help you?” You asked tentatively, fixing your hair at the sight of a visitor.

“Ah- Y-Yes! Uhh…” Carlos swallowed a large lump in his throat, eyes darting back and forth towards a large potted plant and the girl that stood before him. Her. “I’ve… I’m sure I’ve seen you around before, I never c-caught your name though.” He finally spoke, peaking not-so-discretely at his palm.

You gave him your name uncertainly, “And you are…”

“C—“

You cut him off abruptly with a snap of your fingers, “Carlos De Vil! Yeah, I’ve heard of you.”

Carlos winced, “What have you heard about me exactly?”

“Oh, uh…” You hesitated in answering, fidgeting with your fingers, “Not much. You play Tourney right? You’re on the team?” Carlos lit up at the mention of the sport.

“Yeah, yeah! I play! Do- Do you?”

“Um, they don’t allow girls on the team.” You smiled sheepishly and god, did Carlos almost faint on the spot.

“Right…”

“Is that it?”

Carlos paused, dusting his clothes off and straightening up. “Yeah- That’s- That’s all.”

You tilted your head to the side in curiosity, as if waiting for Carlos to say more, but you shrugged and closed the door behind you, excusing yourself. “It was nice talking to you. Bye.”

You shot him a grin, and you could swear his cheeks started turning pink. A giggle only left your lips as you walked past the boy and a mysterious potted plant that suspiciously had a familiar beanie thrown over it. But you paid no mind and strolled away. Cute.

requests are open!!

[vyainide]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ౨ৎ satoru, suguru, shoko, kento & older s/o's

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ2024 ©1864RERUNS

includingㅤ━ㅤgojo satoru, getō suguru, ieiri shōko, nanami kento

tag(s)&warning(s). drabbles, gn! reader, slightly suggestive, unspecified age gap

from vyon. writing nanami's hurt tbh.... he likes his lovers younger, trust me (his no. 1 favourite, sweetest, cutest, unrealest younger one true lover 🎀) on the other hand though..... he deserves to be babygirl'd so hard 😝

satoru, the strongest sorcerer in the world, goes out of his way to find older lovers; he admits he has a problem and he'll never be cured of it. he doesn’t even know he has a track record for picking out more disciplined figures, with an air of maturity that taunts him across the bar; he doesn’t know he ignores the cheeky winks that are thrown at him from the giggly bar patrons who look too young to even be there in favour of staring at the figure sat alone at the bar, making pleasant conversation with the bartender until shoko is kicking him, telling him to stop eye–fucking the poor stranger and just go up to them. he balks, stumbling through excuses when shoko hits him again and tells him that if it doesn't go well and they're not into wide–eyed virgins (ouch and just untrue) that he could always just leave with one of the many girls who were still giggling at him. she slides him the rest of her cocktail for courage and then sends him off, with a smile that is almost proud.

he does, strangely, feel like a virgin when he manages to catch your attention and he blames it on shoko for putting it into his head. satoru tries his best to come off as presentable, a smile on his face as he leaned on the bar and tells the bartender your next drink is on him. he realises later that you were just entertaining him, amusement coloured your face under the dim lighting around the bar. he manages to get your number somehow. the first few dates are great and he has to beg you to let him play for them all; you always give into him, a displeased look on your face as you tuck your wallet back into your pocket and he ignores the fact that he feels both ashamed to be faced with that scolding look and giddy that he gets his way.

what really helps him realise that he's completely smitten with the maturity and care that comes promised with an older significant other is when you're on your first official date. satoru, ever the gentleman, tries to pay. you narrowed a smile at him, calling him 'toru so, so sweetly and telling him to put his wallet back. now. and the order goes straight to his pants, whoops!

suguru is completely unashamed about it. it's a realisation that's slow in its trickling, suguru just realises that growing older, he had no patience for bumbling fools. it was fun when he was young, having a pretty little thing by his side to feel important, to flaunt his abilities as a man to keep an inexperienced thing happy. then, he gets to a certain age and he realises, it's more trying to keep someone who knows what they want satisfied. suguru loves it. strangely, he loves being the pretty little thing attached to the arm of someone older, more experienced, with shoulders set back, head tipped upwards, a clean, businesslike smile always polite on their face. your eyes always stern— even when trailing over suguru regardless of the position.

it's wonderful it is; the fact that he could allow you to mingle through the large hall without worrying that you'll let something slip through a loose mouth, he doesn't have to keep you by his side for fear of you ruining his life's work. you can mingle with the idiotic patrons he's accumulated throughout the years, you know how to interact with them, how to sway their beliefs, and rid them of any hesitancy they may have had about follow suguru's ideals. it's also perfect when it comes with dealing with nanako and mimiko; you love the two just as you love suguru. you've enough experience and patience to deal with two young girls on yourself, lessening the burden on suguru's shoulders.

you've got a wicked tongue that knows how to tell exaggerated promises, how to assure an unsettled mind. not that he likes you for what you've done for his ideals, but it is a plus. the experience you have also means you know when your tongue needs to be held back. because although suguru adores when he's chasing after the words dripping after your tongue, falling victim to your sweet orders, there's also stressful times where he needs to forget that you've your own tongue, powered by your thoughts and not his.

for shōko, age has rarely ever mattered. for a hedonistic woman like herself, she likes what she likes and allows little things to govern those likes. dating for her never comes long–term in all honesty— there are too many unspoken rules that grate her nerves, needing to share her location, reply in a timely manner, fancy dinner dates more than once a month? the ending of her relationships always seemed so one–sided. most of the time, it'd end over text or with them showing up to her apartment or where she worked and finally shouting all their frustrations at her.

though it might seem heartless, shōko rarely ever feels regret for the way she's behaved. she's made it clear on multiple occasions that she wouldn't be any of those things they wanted yet they stayed, probably thinking they'd be the one to change her and shape her into the attentive, caring figure they could show off to friends. even so, she still falls into relationships— it's never her fault that people spin their own fantastical storyline about their future together so she needn't punish herself for it. a recent relationship she gets into is one that she enjoys; it bares more resemblance to an adult relationship, she assumes that it's because you're older than her.

you're more realistic in this manner. you understand that shōko isn't one for fancy dinner dates, she doesn't have time to respond as quickly as you may want due to her job, she can't meet up whenever you want on a whim. you text at your own leisurely pace and let her texts stream in whenever she has a break or two. after a week of no contact, she begins to think the inevitable— further cemented by the fact that her doorbell is ringing at an unfathomable 1am and she knows no one else would be at her door but you. she grimaces, mourns the short–lived but pleasurable relationship, and then opens the door, bracing herself for your rant. it never comes. instead, you slump into her arms with an apology for showing up so late and showing up at all without saying anything beforehand, you tell her you miss her, and you'd like to stay the night. for reasons unknown to herself, she lets you in.

age isn't something that is high on nanami's radar when he looks at potential lovers. as long as it isn't dramatically different from his own, he allows himself to indulge. in his defense, it's not as if he'd turned a certain age and began swearing off those younger than him; nanami found that he still got along well with those who were two, three years younger than him, but never romantically. nanami's ideas of a relationship was fairly traditional; he found that this wasn't the case for many partners who had been younger than him. their ideals, morals, what they placed importance on, long–term plans were all too different. so nanami begins, subconsciously, striving after those who are closer to his age.

atleast, that's how it starts. it gets worse, you see, after he realises that dating in a more refined, mature, jaded age group brings something altogether different into his life. for the first time in a while, nanami is reminded that he's not even thirty yet and he starts to understand why so many doe–eyed, inexperienced girls flocked to him. there's a certain satisfaction he gets from being the apple of someone's eye— someone much older than him, who's lived long enough to have their pick of the litter yet decidedly stays with him, sensible and confident hands dragging down his sides.

nanami kento, all the way into his 20s, learns that he enjoys being pampered. he loves it. adores the unwavering focus he gets when he comes back home to your penthouse and gets to fall into your arms as you work out kinks in his shoulders; he gets to lay there, weightless, as you undress him, soft and slow, pressing kisses on any skin you get exposed before you're urging him up to put on something more comfortable so you can cuddle. that, or he gets to sulk on your bed, sending you pictures of what he was doing throughout the day whilst you were at work, only feeling worse when your texts are late. it's all worth it in the end, when you finally get home, allowing him to do as he wanted. though the wait is gruelling, your warmth surrounding him when you finally sink into bed with him, your touches more wandering and perverse as your mouth presses over fading bruises on his neck.

[3liza]

saw someone talking about "scary dog privilege" on here today and cant find the post again but i guess it refers to when women are bothered less in public when accompanied by a large dog, and bypassing the quibble i have with calling that a privilege, i can absolutely 100% confirm it is true.

i was approached by a 30s-40s single white man wearing the Dipshit Uniform (guy in a baseball cap who looks like he drives an f-150 and has voting opinions i would not agree with) on the street the other day and all he had to talk about was Churchgrim. that he was VERY large, looked like a good boy, obedient, what breed is he, etc. this is the only interaction i get from men in public anymore unless i do not have the dog with me, at which point it goes back to the usual bullshit. however it has to be an actual scary-looking dog and you have to visibly have control of it. this is not why i got a large dog, it's just a side benefit. it probably has a lot to do with the masculine cultural coding of any large dog breed that isnt a poodle or a sight hound more than it does the actual violence potential of the dog, but those two things are related. notably, not a SINGLE man has tried to mansplain dog care or handling to me for five years. not one. i cant explain this because its not like being visible capable at a task or skill will stop them in any other circumstance, including when you are holding a literal firearm.

i remember reading some stupid op-ed from some idiot woman who got a dog "for protection" on her jogs and was baffled when men were not intimidated by her golden fucking retriever (although they should have been; goldens bite a lot, statistically, probably explicitly because people do not take them seriously)

the fact that men's body language and tone of voice has changed so drastically from before when i had a 90lbs black shepherd mix standing next to me is pretty damning tbh. all people both intentionally and unintentionally modulate their communication styles around that type of dog to display respect, interest, or fear, experienced dog people can be identified instantly by their comfort and confidence with the dog, and people with dog phobia are the opposite. the dog instinctively puts himself between me and approaching strangers, probably not out of a defensive instinct in grim's case but because strangers are interesting and he wants to be closer to the object of interest, but the physical barrier this creates is a great benefit to me.

specifically, men talk to me much much much more like they are speaking to another man when the dog is there. part of that is men are often genuinely interested in knowing information about a large dog of grim's type and are not using the dog as an excuse to flirt with or harass me. grim has a phenotype that is familiar to certain experiences within the united states as a "porch dog" or "yard dog" or "farm dog" that everyone who has lived in rural areas has usually known or owned a few notable examples of, and thats a general class of dog that tends to be good at listening and responding to humans and has a lot of opportunities to display intelligence or good judgment, so people with rural experience tend to associate him with good memories. he's also "handsome" in the dog sense because he got to keep his balls until he was 3, on the advice of his vet, and as a result he developed nice-looking musculature and a big thick neck which you dont get on city dogs much. he gets a lot of positive attention from older ladies as well, who you'd think would be afraid of being knocked over, but who are always just besotted with him for reasons i havent quite figured out yet. maybe they like seeing a youngish woman with a dog like this, i know that i feel good and happy when i see younger women and girls in situations where they seem safe or protected to me. i think to myself, "i don't have to worry about her" and i feel relief. observing young women and girls often triggers anxiety for women who are even just a few years older than they are, out of pure empathy. its one reason it's so important to be kind to younger people than you are.

anyway it's damning to the men because of course men don't think rationally that the dog would understand and be offended or angry if they sexually harassed or disrespected me. but they are still on their best behavior because the dog is an implicit threat that i can defend myself. and perhaps not only did they have nothing real to discuss with me before now because they assumed we had nothing in common and that i was an idiot or not human, but they are watching themselves carefully to only express normal human civility. i dont get that from random men without the dog. mostly (not entirely but mostly) i get either casual disrespect/disregard, or outright sexual harassment. when i was younger and less experienced with men and had fewer cycles of these interactions, i was completely unaware of how disrespectful these approaches or comments were, which is the interpretation i can see less-experienced women making now, even if they're my age. and when i was 20, my 30 year old friends seemed pathologically misandrist and defensive to me. it was purely the difference in our actual mileage. that sucks man. wish we could just be normal around people and not have to expect the worst constantly.

anyway, good dog

[crucifiedfaerie]

Kylo Ren — SFW Alphabet

no warnings, just lots of fluff and lil bit of angst !! however, just bc its SFW, doesn't mean i want minors interacting w this, BEGONE !!! TO THE GLUE TRAP YOU GO !

— AFFECTION (how affectionate are they?)

in the beginning of your relationship, affection was very scarce. kylo wanted so badly to open up to you more, but was too afraid to, so when he would catch himself getting too close or too affectionate he would pull away and become that cold and calculated kylo again who you knew all too well. when he did finally admit his feelings, he couldn't get enough of you, as if he were making up for all of the lost time he spent pushing you away.

"i cant believe i waited so long to do this, what a fool i am."

— BEST FRIEND (what are they like as a bestie?)

the only hc i have for you as best friends would be if you grew up together in jedi training... and you guys would fuck w each other CONSTANTLY. like practically bully each other, it's all in good fun though. luke would refer to the two of you as partners-in-many-crimes because of the several messes you'd make doing stupid shit. one time ben almost burned the hut down because you dared him to light fireworks outside of luke's window while he slept. bad fucking idea.

"you idiot, he's going to kill us, you know?"

— CUDDLES (how do they like to cuddle?)

kylo loves holding you. his favorite is when your head is on his chest because it makes it easy for him to play with your hair. he also loves being the big spoon, wrapping his strong arms around your small frame. in those moments you were a tiny, precious thing that he wanted only to love and keep safe.

— DOMESTIC (thoughts on settling down? how would they be helping out around?)

kylo wanted nothing more than to make you his and his only forever. despite how kylo treats literally everyone else, he is a very doting partner and has a huge soft spot for you and only you. he's better at helping with cooking than he is cleaning. anytime he would try to clean, he'd never do it right or fully and you'd end up telling him to stop and do it yourself lol.

"what do you MEAN i'm not doing it right?!"

— ENDING (how would breakups go?)

its simply not happening. if he broke up with you, he didn't actually mean it and said it out of anger in the heat of the moment. if you broke up with him, he would probably lose his mind. his cold façade would shatter into a million pieces and he'd promise he would change, do better, do whatever it was you needed him to do. you were his and the mere thought of anyone else ever having you filled him with insurmountable rage and sadness.

— FIANCEE (how do they feel about commitment?)

kylo is devoted to you wholeheartedly. being his empress and ruling over the first order by his side would only solidify that.

— GENTLE (how gentle are they?)

when he isn't being a freak, he handles you as if you are made of glass. a pretty, precious thing that could break at any moment. if you fall asleep next to the fireplace, he will pick you up and carry you to bed, making sure the blankets are tucked around the both of you in the way you like, so you don't wake up cold in the morning.

— HUGS (do they like hugs? what are their hugs like?)

kylo loves hugging you, and you love hugging him. bc of his height, you are dwarfed by him and his hugs feel like getting tightly wrapped in a large, warm blanket. usually he just bends down to hug you, but sometimes he picks you up.

— I LOVE YOU (how long does it take for them to say the L word?)

again, kylo is terrified of showing weakness, so in the beginning of your relationship he's very cold towards you. every time he was around you he had to fight the strong urges telling him to be honest with you. after a long while, he did finally say it though. he was so nervous when he first said it, his eyes scanning your face for a reaction and his palms sweating. now he reminds you that he loves you all the time, especially if he's going out on a mission and won't be back for a couple weeks.

"don't look so sad, my star. i love you, you know i always come back to you."

��� JEALOUSY (how jealous do they get?)

kylo is as jealous of a man as you can get. the mere thought of someone trying to take you from him fills him with a rage that rivals the fire of a thousand suns. one time he heard a guard having very loud, impure thoughts about his empress so kylo killed him. you have always been much more passive than he is, so you were not happy to see that he had killed someone on your living room floor.

"but my love- his thoughts were so loud! what else was i supposed to do?!"

— KISSES (do they like kissing? what are their kisses like?)

kissing you is kylo's favorite past time. if you both are out and his helmet is on, all he's thinking about is getting home so he can kiss you. sometimes if no one's around, he will lift his mask up just enough so it only exposes the bottom half of his face so he can get a quick kiss or two or eight in. his kisses are warm and never fail to send tingles down your spine, and you always say kylo tastes of cinnamon and smoke. to him, you taste of summer fruit.

— LITTLE ONES (how are they around kids?)

he's indifferent towards other peoples children, thankfully he's less harsh on them than adults, but he isn't pleasant to them either. one time he blew up on a servant boy that was no older than eleven, and you scolded him afterwards. "he's just a child kylo, don't be so hard on him." he has such a soft spot for you and admires the empathy you have for others that he will never have. he promised you he would try to be a little nicer. yours and his children however, he treats as well as he treats you. they are an extension of his beloved, after all. i hc that kylo is a wonderful father, making sure they receive the fatherly love he never got.

— MORNINGS (how do your mornings with them go?)

sometimes on busy days, he's gone by the time you wake up. you always look so beautiful and peaceful when you're sleeping, so he doesn't dare wake you up. instead he kisses your head and whispers that he loves you and that he will return shortly. he knows you can't hear him, but he likes to tell you anyways. on days he doesn't have to leave so early, you stay in bed together. kissing, cuddling, talking, other things. kylo is content doing anything as long as it's with you.

— NIGHTS (how do your nights with them go?)

this is a sfw post, therefore i cannot describe how your nights with kylo would go lmao. please refer to the nsfw abc's. afterwards though, kylo is a doting partner that takes care of you, cleaning you up and tending to every single mark he left on your body that he worships so much.

— OPEN (how open are they? when will they tell you more about themselves?)

the first few months of your relationship is like dating a brick wall, it is not easy getting kylo to open up. once he does though, he makes sure not to hide anything from you anymore. it took a lot of work and patience, but he loves and trusts you wholeheartedly.

— PATIENCE (how patient are they with you?)

kylo has a temper, and he tries so hard, but he does have slip ups sometimes. any time he blows up on you though, he apologizes immediately. you know he loves you because he absolutely hates admitting he was wrong.

— QUIZZES (how much do they remember about you?)

everything. every detail, every like, every dislike, your favorite color, your favorite flower, your blood type, your fears, hopes, and dreams. this man remembers EVERYTHING about you. at least fifty percent of his brain is an archive of facts about you.

— REMEMBER (what is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

the first time you told him you loved him. it was the first time anyone told him they loved him, and you made him feel like he was ben again. he used to be so scared of being that boy he tried so hard to kill, but you held that part of him so tenderly, that he knew he'd be an absolute fool to try to push that away.

— SECURITY (how protective are they of you?)

kylo protects you with his own life and would kill thousands for you, despite your disdain for unnecessary violence. you are the most important thing to him, and he would have to be dead before he let anything happen to you.

— TRY (how much effort do they put into dates/special occasions?)

kylo ren has an ungodly amount of rizz and i stand by that. this man buys you your favorite flowers, he sets up candlelit dinners, he watches the sunset with you, he makes you personalized playlists like every other fuckboy except he doesn't send it to seven other women. whether you're his empress yet or not, he treats you like royalty. @enviedear and i also have a hc that kylo is the type of guy to pick out your nail polish color for you, and then buy a tie to wear that matches.

"you'd look so heavenly in this shade of red, my star."

— UGLY (what is a bad habit of theirs?)

kylo has an awful temper and is prone to outbursts. he tries SO hard to not have a temper with you, but everyone makes mistakes. he always apologizes to you though. i also hc that kylo is a nail biter, idk it just makes sense ?? that man is a caged animal and emotionally damaged, he definitely has anxiety.

— VANITY (how insecure are they? what are they insecure about?)

our poor babygirl is sooo insecure about everything, no matter how much you tell him how beautiful he is. your loving words of affirmation always make him feel a little better though.

— WHOLE (would they feel incomplete without you?)

without you, kylo would return to the broken, shell of a man he was before you. if he somehow lost you, hundreds of innocent lives would be lost due to the rampage he'd go on.

— XTRA (a random headcanon about them)

another hc that liv and i came up with was kylo's and ben's music taste. kylo listens to typical male manipulator music like radiohead, the smiths, and deftones with some angrier shit like slipknot and korn. ben is a different breed of male manipulator that listens to the weeknd and pulls up blasting solo by future. we also hc that both cry alone to lana del rey.

— YUCK (what are some things they dislike?)

anything and everything that isn't you. his least favorite thing though, is when he can hear people's rude or impure thoughts about you. he hasn't told you this, but he's killed at least fifteen people for doing just that.

"personally, i think fifteen isn't enough."

— ZZZZ (what are their sleeping habits like?)

for the first few months of your relationship, he did not sleep around you. you were convinced he didn't sleep... like ever. after he became more vulnerable with you though, he would. you love how peaceful he looks when he sleeps. i also hc that sometimes he gets terrible, vivid nightmares that he wakes up crying from :(

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I'm not good at writing these but can we please see an interaction between Rollo and Trein and maybe Lucius? I really like the idea of Trein being a mentor figure to Rollo since Trein says he will keep an eye on him at the end of Glorious Masquerade. I don't know how the interaction would be structured but I'll leave that up to you if you choose to write this!

Yessss 😭 YOU GET IT, Trein could be a great mentor to Rollo…

For the last hour, Rollo had been nursing a growing migraine. The bumping music, the horde of guests, his inner voice counting off all the work still yet to be done. Each was another icy nail driven into his skull. Two glasses of grape juice were not enough to dull that buzz that clouded his mind.

Rollo had excused himself from making social rounds to fill up on refreshments—but he knew it wouldn't be long before someone came by to drag him back into the fray.

He slumped forward in his seat, catching his forehead with one hand. In his other hand, he clutched onto his third serving of grape juice. His only solace in these trying times.

Rollo exhaled deeply, squeezing his eyes shut. A silent prayer was at his lips.

Lord help me persevere. I am surrounded by idiots, beseeched to engage with them…!! Why must I endure this madness?!

A sudden softness came down on his nose.

“Mrow.”

Startled, Rollo immediately shot up. His grape juice nearly spilled, had a quick paw not catch the rim and keep it upright.

A plump cat had appeared on the table, staring at Rollo through sharp golden eyes. Its coat was a glossy black, the tip of its fluffy tail, chest, and muzzle a fine white. The cat meowed again, releasing its hold on the almost-fallen cup.

“Good day to you, Flamme.”

An older man appeared, scooping up the feline in his arms. His stern, bony face had been carved out with lines like the rings in a tree's core, his hair--streaked in shades of salt and pepper--slicked back from his forehead. He was dressed in a sharp suit and cravat, long maroon robes spilling over them.

“Mozus-sensei.” Rollo automatically straightened. “I was not aware that you were among those in attendance. To what do I owe this pleasure?”

"Quite a large number of students wished to leave campus for an important function. I am serving as the chaperone to them. Were it only one or two boys wishing to leave, I would not be needed to supervise." Trein gave a papery smile. "Ah, but it looks as though you have too many companions to keep them away."

Rollo attempted at a polite laugh behind his handkerchief. “Yes, it seems they feel the need to shower me with their attention.”

“I take it you do not favor these circumstances.”

“… Is it that easy to tell? I thought I was hiding it as best as I could.”

“You are sitting alone in a corner with nothing more than a drink in hand to keep you company,” Trein tactfully pointed out. “I understand. These events have the potential to wear one down. A moment of peace and quiet can be restorative.

"As for myself, I find that sitting down and stroking my dear Lucius helps after a long day. Would you like to give it a try? It just may soothe you as well."

Trein shifted, holding out Lucius to Rollo. The cat stared expectantly at the student, its tail swishing back and forth like a metronome.

Rollo's eyes widened. “What? No, I couldn't possibly...!"

Too late, Lucius had already been placed into his lap. The cat's body was almost liquid, pooling and settling into his new resting spot. Lucius was warm and soft, like the wings of an angel.

Rollo grimaced.

A familiar was on him, some mangy animal that had been mucking around who knows where before making contact.

"He likes to be scratched behind the ears and under the chin," Trein coaxed, demonstrating. "The head and back are safe too."

Rollo reluctantly followed Trein's instructions, his fingers sinking into the depths of Lucius's fur and awkwardly petting. Soon, the cat was purring contentedly.

“Aaah, Lucius. You’re so adorable and good with children," Trein cooed. "I think he likes you, Flamme."

"Does he?" Rollo looked doubtful--not that he had any particular interest in befriending a mage's familiar to begin with. Am I meant to feel flattered by that comment?

"Of course. I don't mind if you wish to stay a little longer and become better acquainted with Lucius." Trein motioned to the empty seat across from Rollo. "May I join you?"

He hesitated, considering. Between returning to the raging party and remaining in respite... Rollo warily glanced between his two options, and his answer immediately became clear.

"... I don't see why not," he said at last, relenting. Rollo had a fistful of Lucius's fur in his hand as he got the words out.

"Excellent. I've been meaning to catch up with you." Trein sank into the chair and folded his hands together. "Now then, how have you been? It's been a while."

The conversation that followed flowed like wine. Easily poured, and just as easily downed. It tasted clean and smooth upon his palate, clearing away the bitterness that had pervaded all day.

The glass of grape juice sat there, forgotten.

[jeanystillbeany]

BillFord Fic 3

yippee no pacing.

 “What do you mean the portal is destroyed?!”  The triangle sat atop a large throne made from the majority of Gravity Fall’s residents.  The lacky ticked nervously at Bill’s clear annoyance.  In fact, the whole Fearamid was silent in response to the demon’s rage.  

  “It-it was smashed-“ the green monster explained with a shudder.  His eyeballs were blackened with eight-balls as his pupils.  

  “Well thanks!  That’s exactly what I was- NOT asking for!  Details eight-ball.  Details.”  Bill Cipher seethed.  Eight-ball shook as he tried to explain without suffering from his ring-leader’s unhinged mood.  

  “We- m-me an-and Pyronica- we- we were g-going to move t-the portal here- like you said- but- but it- something smashed it.  N-nothing useful.  We-we haven’t found the creature-“

  “Get out.” Bill Cipher’s face darkened.  

  “Boss- look we-“

  “GET OUT.”  Eight-Ball was quick to rush out of the room as Bill’s typically yellow form turned a fiery red and twice its already exaggerated size.  

  After his henchman scampered out of the room, Bill let out a heavy sigh and laxed into his chair.  If he had temples he’d be rubbing them, but for now the space above his single haunting eyeball would do.  

  “Thirty years… thirty fucking years Stanford…”  Bill began talking amongst himself, “I waited.  I actually thought you weren’t dead!”  Bill’s voice breaks off into a cluster of unstable laughter.  The worst part of all this is that he knew it was his fault.  He pushed Ford.  He pushed him away.  He might as well have been the one to push him into that damn portal.  Ford was gone.  He always was.  That was it.  He has no one holding him back now.  Bill believed that the lack of anyone would push him forward.  He thought he’d be free… but if that were the case, then why does he feel so restrained?    He thought that if all connection to that nuisance was lost- he’d rather have the world than him.  Why is it the other way around?

  “FUCK!”  Bill yelled abruptly in frustration.  The world around him morphing with his emotions.  

  “Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck- you stupid dumb- IDIOT!”  The demon groaned as he slumped back into his chair defeated.  Stanford was gone.  There was no denying that.  Cipher decided that it was time to stop throwing his little temper tantrum and cut himself off with a stubborn sigh.  

“I have living Pines to worry about. But first…”

  Bill snapped his fingers and two of his ‘friends’ popped into the room.  One of them looked like a pair of dentures with legs while the other was a pink woman with flaming clothes.  

  “Teeth, Pyronica.  I have a job for you two.  Go find the dumbass that destroyed the portal.  And make it pay.  Have fun!  -and I don’t want to hear that it’s even twitching!  Or I’ll be the one ‘having fun’.  Buy gold!  Bye!”  Bill didn’t give them a chance to respond as he teleported them to the remains of Ford’s lab with a maniacal laugh.  As soon as they were gone he ripped off his mask and groaned back into his chair again.  Or was that a sob?  He couldn’t tell anymore.  It’s not like it mattered anyway.  

  Sixer was gone.  

  And he was going to make everyone pay for it.  

~

  Sixer and Dipper conversed excitedly in the TV room.  It was as though they were two old friends reconnecting, even though they haven’t had much conversation until now.  The interaction began with Ford approaching Dipper about the modifications he made to the shield to keep Bill out.  Dipper explained that he found gnome hair to have a sort of repellency to unicorn hair- this caused the shield to nonchalantly cause the target to forget the shack was there. 

  “It actually ended up being surprisingly useful this far in!”  Dipper chirped, “it keeps us from getting any sort of Eye-Bat’s attention from up to 100 feet of the mystery shack.”  Ford nodded and began writing the new discoveries down in his journal while mumbling other theories.  Eventually the pair trailed off to talking about other topics and somehow got caught up on their favorite nerd game ‘Dungeons, Dungeons and more Dungeons’.  

  “Hey- if you’re up for it- I wouldn’t mind playing with you sometime.”  Ford grinned at his nephew.  

  “Yeah… after all this is hopefully over…” Dipper sighed.  

  “We must indulge in playing immediately!”  Ford claimed rising from his chair in enthusiasm.  Dipper was a little startled at the sudden attitude- yet appreciated the change from everyone else’s hopeless expressions.  While Dipper did seem to find some condolences in the gesture, fate planned on getting Ford back for his little scare anyway.  

  As Ford began to help Dipper search the shelves for their game, the door to the Mystery Shack suddenly slammed shut  rather clumsily.  Ford jumped in response and glared at the direction the door was in with a raised eyebrow.  

  The man took his curious expression with him for a moment as he paused his task and traveled to a nearby window.  Outside, he could easily distinguish where the barrier ended.  A trail of some of the survivors living inside the shack followed a certain Stanley pines out of the barrier.  

  “Stanley…” Ford muttered under his breath in warning as if the other could hear him.  

  “What is it?” Dipper asked curiously and followed Ford to the window.

   “Oh…” Dipper observed his Grunkle and his team leaving to get the supplies in the bunker.  

  “Does he even know where it is?  What if the shapeshifter is loose by now!”  Stanford sputtered.  Despite being much younger than the other twins, Dipper understood the feeling.  

  “You should go after him!  I can help too!”  Dipper said.  

  “No.  Absolutely not.  You are going to be staying in the shack where it’s safe.”  Ford commanded.  

  “C’mon!  Seriously?  I can do stuff too!  Why does Grenda get go then?!  She’s the same age!”  Dipper complained in response.  

  “I’m still your great-uncle Dipper.  We will play D, D and more D when I get back.”  Ford retreated from the window and began scouring around the shack for his coat- then realizing it was torn.  He grabbed all the items inside of it and placed them into his satchel.  In the meantime, Dipper followed him around like a lost puppy begging to come along on the adventure.  

  “Please Grunkle Ford!  I’ve been sitting around here for weeks!  Do you seriously expect me to just sit here?!”  Dipper pleaded.  

  “Yes.  Yes I do- now try and set our game up while I’m gone.”  And with that final sentence Ford left Dipper in the Mystery Shack.  

  Ford discreetly traveled behind the group set to the bunker.  He hid behind trees and trudged out of sight from his brother.  As the survivors and Stanford traveled, he noticed many familiar landmarks from the new Gravity Falls everyone was trapped in.  Weirdly enough, it seemed Stanley was leading everyone back to the lab.  Stanford supposed it wasn’t the dumbest idea.  The pure insanity of the state of the world has caused their usual surroundings to change immensely.  It was a decent idea to have a safe point in case someone got separated or they found the terrain has changed too greatly for them to find the bunker from memory.  It has only been a day and Ford found himself missing his now completely trashed lab.  After a few hours of walking, group finally made it to the lab.  The ghost of the mystery shack still stood atop of it.  The group decided to take a short break. 

  “I can’t believe boss did that?!  What’s up his ass today?”  

  “Yeah I know!  Seriously!  What’s so important about this dumb portal anyway?  We’re already out of that damned dimension.  I don’t see what’s so important about it.”  Everyone froze at the voices heard from the remains of the underground lab.  No one dared move a muscle as Wendy signed a few things to Stanley and everyone stayed silent.  For a moment all anyone could hear was sounds of Bill’s henchmen complaining while rummaging through debris.  Everyone began to slowly retreat away from the mystery shack silently- careful not to step on any sticks.  Ford observed with a clenched jaw, and he’d find five half-moons imprinted in his palm if he looked at his hands later.  One by one, each survivor made it out of the clearing and into the cover of the brambles.  The man still continued to stay in hiding until the final group member was out of sight.  

  Everyone was breathless as they silently waited for the monsters to leave the area.  It was quiet other than the loud clacking of metal from underground in the lab.  

  “Hey- where’d they go?”  A pre-teen boy emerged from the same direction the group and Ford had come from just minutes before.  He ignorantly stepped out into the clearing with a huff.  The entire group’s eyes swarmed the familiar voice.  Ford felt his hair stand on end at the tense atmosphere.  Ford began to sweat as Dipper carelessly walked away from all cover.  Wendy popped her head out from the bushes.  

  “Dipper!” Ford acknowledged the panicked look in her eyes as she frantically waved him over back towards the forest.  He also noticed Stan had poked his head out of the brush as well- attempting to aid Wendy in trying to get some sense of alarm into Dipper’s skull.  

  “Oh!  Hey Wendy!”  Dipper exclaimed- being too far away to accurately read her facial expressions.  Ford found himself among the two others that desperately tried to get Dipper to safety.  It was only about a minute when Ford realized the pace of Dipper’s understanding was much too slow for him to accurately comprehend the danger in time.  The boy’s newest uncle took note of the way his twin’s eyes widened in shock before scowling in disappointment as he revealed himself into the clearing.  

  “Hi Grunkle Ford!  Why are you all over there?”  The named Grunkle winced at his nephew’s volume as the noises in the bunker abruptly stopped followed by chattering.  

  “Did you hear something?”  

  “Yeah actually!  Almost sounded like one of those brats…” Ford grabbed Dipper’s arm and pulled him behind himself.  He carefully backed away in order to not make any noise.  He held his breath as he looked back at the distance between himself and the forest.  

  “Well, well well!  Look what we have here Pyronica!”  Ford’s attention darted to the voice that came from the teeth demon.  It then went to the named pink one who towered over him.    

  “Look, it’s the old man and his nephew!  Love the new look… didja… do something with your hair?”  The pink demon flicked the floof of his hair as he pushed himself further in front of Dipper.  

  “What do you say we do with ‘em?”  Teeth asked.  

  “I say, we feed it to the wretch that destroyed our best friend’s portal!”  Pyronica grinned- pinching Stanford’s cheek.  He glared as his hand slowly moved to his satchel.  

  “Aww… I wanted a few bites…”  Teeth said disappointed.  

  “Oh, I’m sure you can have your fair share-“ Pyronica cut herself off as she noticed Ford’s movements towards his bag, “oh!  That could’ve been bad now couldn’t it?” She gleamed as she tore Ford’s satchel off his shoulders and tossed it to the side.  Ford fell backwards- pushing Dipper aside and held his shoulder to lighten the impact.  

  “Hey!  You leave my Grunkle alone!”  Dipper exclaimed fiercely.  He sat up- but Ford held him back.  He gave his nephew’s shoulder a squeeze to signal to him to stop, but the fire in his relative raged on.  

  “Oh!  So we got ourselves a yapper!  How cute…” Pyronica said tipping Dipper’s hat as she leaned menacingly over the pair.  

  “I say we eat them now!”  Teeth jumped in.  

  “Oh- but Bill would be so much more pleased if we brought Stanley back… you know how much he despises him.”  Pyronica pointed out as she reached for Ford and Dipper.  

  “Hey!”  Everyone’s heads darted towards the new voice- shocked to be seeing double.  Stanley stood fiercely and moved in front of his brother and Dipper.  He had Ford’s bag draped over his shoulder and his brother’s gun pointed at the monsters.  

  “Is- is this just me?  Or am I a little crazy here?  I think I had too much Time Punch…” Teeth exclaimed.  He then got abruptly shot right on one of his front teeth.  

  “AHH A CAVITY!”  Teeth exclaimed taking shelter back in the lab.  

  “You stay away from my family.”  Stanley said sternly before pointing the gun at Pyronica who continued to look between the two.  She grumbled with her hands up and rolled her eyes.  

  “And what is that stupid little gun gonna do huh-“ Pyronica was caught off guard as a zap of an unknown blue energy zipped past her face- giving her a nasty burn on her cheek bone.  She hummed before snapping her fingers expecting the injury to heal immediately.  When she still noticed a burning sensation, she snapped again.  The pink demon began snapping repeatedly until realization finally got through her thick skull.  Pyronica huffed in defeat.  

  “Teeth!  We’re leaving these cowards.”  She growled before following teeth back into the abandoned lab.  A large force of pink energy shot out of the top.  Ford presumed this to be an indication of teleportation.  

  Stanley still stood there tense long after the demons retreated.  The gun was still pointed at the lab where the demons never reemerged.  Ford brushed himself off and helped Dipper up before placing a hand on his twin’s shoulder.  Stanley sighed before lowering the gun and standing there for a moment.  

  He slowly turned around and pulled Ford into a hug.  

  “See?  I told you!  I would’ve thought you remembered…”  Stanley mumbled.  Ford hugged his twin back- knowing exactly what he was referring to.  

  “What that you’re always right?”  Ford asked.  

  “Yeah,” Stanley pulled himself away, but firmly gripped Ford’s shoulders, “Now can someone tell explain to me what was going on inside of that stupid head of yours!  I told you to stay in the shack!  But then you not only go off but bring Dipper with you?!”  Stan glared at his brother. Ford opened his mouth to respond before Dipper cut in.  

  “…it’s my fault Grunkle Stan… Grunkle Ford told me to stay in the shack.  I followed him.”  He admitted with his eyes aimed at the floor.    Stanley let go of his brother’s shoulders and sighed.  

  “Hey Dipper… look at me…” Stan said in an earnest manner.  Dipper followed his instructions as his uncle put a hand on his shoulder.  

  “That was stupid,” his uncle said bluntly, “very, very, very, very stupid.”  Dipper awaited a second stanza to his Uncle’s statement but received none other than a sly ‘you too’ towards Ford.  Stanley gave Ford’s bag back to him and the gun (with slightly more hesitation and borderline begging to keep it).  The group emerged from the forest.  Wendy even came up and slapped her boss on the back in victory.  

  After that fiasco the resource retrieval team decided they needed a proper break.  They all sat down in a group and quietly chatted amongst each other, sipping water, and savoring rations.  Ford took to savoring the peace.  He leaned his back up against a tree as he began writing the recent events into his journal.  His knees propped the journal open sufficiently, tucked about a foot from his chest.  Dipper was huddled closely beside him, anxiously asking questions with the excitement of Mabel.  Eventually Ford caved in and stretched out his legs- putting the journal at a better angle for Dipper to see.  The boy quaffed the words  written as soon as he was given a chance.  As Dipper read, Ford ruffled through his bag.  

  “What are you looking for Grunkle Ford?”  Dipper peaked from the book for only a second.  

  “One moment Dipper… ah.  Here we are!”  Ford’s six fingered hand removed itself from the bag, holding out a second pen to Dipper.  The boy looked at it questioningly.  

  “Well, I wanted to write about our encounter just now.  I thought that maybe you could help.”  Stanford shrugged, still having the pen held out to Dipper.  The 13-year-old took it eagerly, looking up to Ford in admiration.  The Grunkle put the book between themselves- giving each other about a paragraph.  The first few sentences were messy trying to figure out some sort of system in journaling with twice as many people.  Though, they both figured it out just fine in the end.  

  Stanley sat by a tree across from them- nonchalantly eating a can of brown meat.  Ford couldn’t help but notice the occasional longing glances his brother stole from them.  Ford sighed with a fond smile before motioning for Dipper to pause when they got to retelling the events that just occurred.  

  “Is something wrong Grunkle Ford?”  Dipper asked stopping mid sentence.  

  “No, no Dipper.  In fact- everything is great.  Though… I thought that maybe the man of the hour should write his own part.”  Ford shrugged.  

  “Really?”  Dipper looked skeptical before shrugging, “Fine.” 

  Ford nodded satisfied before calling his brother, “Hey!  Stanley!”  He waved his brother over.  

  Stan perked up as soon as he heard his brother call him, but then immediately slouched again.  It was as though he wanted to suppress the smile that came from a feeling he thought he lost with his brother 31 years ago.  Stanley lazily sauntered over.  Though Ford could see the gleam in his eye whenever he chatted with his family.  

  “So what’d you nerds need?”  Stan sat down in front of them.  

  “Oh!  Grunkle Ford wants you to help us write an entry in his journal.”  Dipper exclaimed- sliding the book over to his other great-uncle.  

  Stanley’s eyes widened at the gesture and gave Ford a questioning look.  He never let him touch his work.  Stanley always thought it was because he believed that he’d mess it up somehow.  Ford only nodded in responds and handed Stanley a pen.  He grinned and began jotting where the other two left off.  

[jackson-imbecille]

Only 900 words, still looking for a title, art at the end. @schnuffel-danny @lemon-snake

Jack Fenton was a peculiar man. Intelligent, yet idiotic. Intimidating, yet soft. He was the most normal and easy to understand man that Vlad had ever met in his life, yet he made absolutely no sense.

For twenty two years Vlad had resented Jack, hated him even. He had tried to kill the man, but what had Jack done in return? He laughed, invited Vlad over, sent him gifts, letters, cards with dumb jokes on them, he even sent a cat when he worried that Vlad wasn’t getting enough social interaction. No doubt Daniel was the one to give him that idea, but the way he proudly smiled when Vlad accepted the offering rather than slamming the door in his face. Why couldn’t he stop thinking about it?

A peculiar man indeed. No other was able to get under Vlad's skin in quite the same way. It was easy to hate him, so why was it getting harder to enact his revenge plans as time went on? Why was it harder to keep away since the reunion? Why was it so much harder to hate Jack when he was sitting right in front of him?

For years, all he wanted was to eliminate Jack, and live out the rest of his life with Maddie by his side. For so long, this was the only route to happiness. But now? The path didn’t seem so clear. 

He had believed he could never be as happy as he was before the accident, not without Jack dead and Maddie by his side. But recently that ideal world has shifted. Just as his dreams changed last year to include Daniel as his son, they were changing again to bring Jack by his side. But this made no sense. It was Jack who ruined him, Jack who destroyed his life, Jack who killed him. 

But the more he thought about it, the more complicated it became. 

Yes, it was Jack that activated the portal. Yes, if not for Jack, he would still be human. Yes, it was because of Jack that he went through years of medical torture, but Jack was not the only variable. He could just as easily say it was the hospital’s fault for allowing its doctors to run those tests and experiments, that it was his fault for getting so close to the portal, or even dear sweet Maddie’s fault for having a large hand in developing the technology necessary to create the portal. 

It seemed so silly to pin everything that went wrong in his life on one single man. A man who had, in truth, meant none of it. 

Of course, there was the matter of Jack leaving him alone to rot all those years. Not one single phone call in twenty two years. But Maddie didn’t call either. He had resented Jack for abandoning him, but didn’t Maddie do the same? He always excused her absence, reasoning that she was unable to contact him while he was in the hospital, and then may not have known how to contact him after his escape, so why didn’t he excuse Jack’s absence the same way?

And why was he learning to excuse it now?

Vlad stood up and made his way to the library. Maddie, his cat, close at his heels. She really was quite the affectionate animal. Though he did feel a tad bit insulted by the gift at first, he had grown to appreciate her as a companion. It was nice to have someone to take care of. 

He knew she should be an unwelcome reminder of his old friend. But strangely, when he looked at her and thought of how excited Jack was to gift her to him, how it didn’t take thirty seconds before the man revealed what he was hiding behind his back, the way his hands shook and his entire body bobbed up in down in anticipation for Vlad’s reaction, he felt amused, endeared even. 

This was all so confusing. For twenty two years he had hated this man. For twenty two years, Jack Fenton had been the bumbling idiot that had cost him his life, his love, his freedom, but when he thought of the man now, it wasn’t hate he felt. 

He didn’t hate Jack Fenton. 

As he sat in his armchair, Maddie the cat in his lap, and a book he didn’t remember picking up in his hand, he realized that his entire world was changing.

He didn’t hate Jack Fenton. 

Shit.

———

Jack Fenton sat at his kitchen table, trying to make sense of the strange readings the scanner he was working on was emitting when he heard a small knock on the front door, followed soon after by the doorbell. 

He stood up, chair scraping against the floor and made his way towards the source of the sound. “I’ll get it!”

He reached the door and was met with the most peculiar sight upon opening it.

There stood Vlad, standing straight up, breathing heavily, dressed in the nicest suit Jack had ever seen, hair frazzled (yet obviously expertly styled not long ago), a fistful of flowers and the odd blade of grass in hand, many petals missing, stems bent, and what looked like roots with clumps of dirt still attached at the bottom of some.

“Hello, do you know about polyamory?”

[themarginalthinker]

@enquiringangel @kentuckycaverats

OK LET'S GO VAMPIRE OC TIME BAYBEE

So, there are a couple of groups that I'm gonna detail! Some will only appear briefly in the main stories of YCCM and its aside Flight Feathers, and others will play a larger role.

Also, @roseate-lagomorph I have considered turning these into vtm ocs! We shall see. :>

Group 1: The Santa Carla Scroungers

This group is based off of the scrapped idea that the kids Lucy tells Sam to give money to in the opening of the movie are vampires too, as well as that one shot of the girl...licking? kissing?? the rat. I've combined the two into the Scroungers.

Andy (Andrea), and Zeke. Andy is the girl with the large army jacket, and Zeke is the rat she's holding. Andy's main ability is the gift of being a daywalker - a very rare boon that allows her to be in direct sunlight (though usually only for an hour or so, before she needs to get out of it.) Zeke's power is animal transformation, and his shape is a rat.

The pair end up in Santa Carla due to some pretty unfortunate circumstances. They're missing the third member of their pack, killed by a hunter group in San Jose when another, larger pack rolled into town and were idiots, attracting attention, and their little three-man-band was simply caught in the crossfire.

Group 2: The Band Nomads

This is a pack The Boys will encounter on their trek across the Rockies and back into David's home territory of the northern great plains. While deciding to pick some people off during a music festival, they run into another pack who had the same idea, and in fact, have been following the tour of some of the groups playing like hunters following the herds of prey.

Martin, Delilah, and their sire Maya. I have not decided what their abilities and banes are, mostly because the Boys don't really interact with them enough to see much of them, but an interesting detail I have decided is that Martin is blind. It goes along with the headcanon that becoming a vampire can heal some things, but not congenital issues.

The Boys end up sharing a hunt with them, and exchange information, possibly getting intel on what the situation is like where they're headed, and giving the Band nomads info on what they can expect further west. It's also a chance to expand the worldbuilding of different kinds of vampire lifestyles.

Group 3: The Sarahs

Ironically, I'm not going to say too much about them, as there are things I want to keep for the actual story ;)

The Sarahs are a coven, rather than a pack or clan. Another group of three vamps, all of them named..well. A form of 'Sarah.'

Elder Sarah is over three hundred years old, Mother Sara being about as old as David (150-ish) and Weird or Silent Serra. being the youngest. She also doesn't speak, using her boon of telepathic communication to speak to people (which is. very disconcerting).

There's a lot more too them, but they interact the most with the Boys in the story, so unfortunately, I can't say much more for them.

[winvyre]

[Valerie's Story] Chapter 1: Omie (1/6)

“Valerie, you are on sweeping duty today.”

“But I’m always on sweeping duty!”

“This is history that we are preserving,” The old lady smiles, “Careless hands…”

“Doom the world.” I begrudgingly take the broom. I’m ten years old, not an idiot. My older siblings are already at work maintaining foliage and restoring art. Well, two of them. Even with Maurin missing I’m still stuck with the broom.

For as long as I can remember, Bernadette has dragged us to Omie’s temple on the sea cliff once per month to help her keep it from falling into ruin. To be honest, it’s already pretty ruined.

It’s a small building, especially when compared to other temples in the region, about the size of a sloop. There’s no door; I don’t think there ever was. Faded murals run along the inside but you can’t see the entire picture because parts of the walls are missing. The arch roof caved in before I was even born and when you walk through to Omie’s statue on the other side, there’s a specific path you have to take to avoid cutting your foot or falling through the floor. The back is open so ocean spray keeps the back side of the statue permanently damp. Plants grow through every crack and hole, wrapping around pillars and obscuring the details in the white stone.

We’re the only ones who ever come up here if you don't count the teromynies, rabbits, or many, many insects. They’re going to be worse this summer because winter was so short. Omie’s worshippers mostly attend the Megachurch in the capital. No one cares about a shrine in an outskirt village that even the locals have forgotten. Bernadette is an exception. She probably lives here. She talks about Omie like she created humanity.

I kick up dust near Omie’s feet. She’s twice as tall as our mom and looks a lot like her. Mom has long, curly hair so blonde it’s almost white kept out of her face by a bandana. Omie has the same style but a much more elegant headband. She wears an off-the-shoulder dress with a collar low enough that her hands clasped over her heart touch her bare chest. Her downturned head makes it seem like she’s looking at you but her eyes are always closed. Bernadette says that Omie’s watching over us.

I hope she’s watching over Maurin. It’s too quiet here without him. Usually he’d be cleaning the grime off the statue but since he’s gone Bernadette’s doing it. The only other person she lets touch Omie is him.

When I’ve swept every part of the temple Bernadette hands me six red candles to place at Omie’s feet. I’m not allowed to light them, though. Bernadette sets her cane against the wall and hobbles through the temple with a thurible, muttering to herself. She’s not praying. That old lady might treat Omie like Francesca treats the young watchman stationed by the docks but she’s not a Believer. The candles light on their own when she’s done. Witch magic is uncanny.

I scan the mural on the right wall. It shows various images of Omie interacting with humanity. Healing the injured, officiating weddings and blessing babies, singing and dancing in a large group. We do the same dance during Omie’s Festival accompanied by a song that she apparently wrote. Kell hangs up the red banner with Omie’s symbol, a human heart made of fire, that fell off the middle pillar.

The left mural is more about how Omie fits into the Six Immortals. It depicts things that they did together like establishing the United Regions, Demon's Lock, and taming dragons. Modern temples are built to hold service but this one, like most older temples, was built to foster a personal connection with its deity. There are no pews and no altar, just stories up to interpretation.

Francesca peeks through one of the holes in the wall, “I finished trimming the bushes.”

“Good. Kell, Valerie, help Francesca pick the hearthblooms.” Bernadette gathers her things.

I can't look at the flowers without feeling nauseous. They remind me too much of him. “If the wreaths are so important why don’t the other villagers grow hearthblooms themselves?” I cross my arms. “Why are we the ones who always have to do it? For once it’s actually warm enough to go swimming in early spring and we’re stuck making wreaths!”

“C’mon, Valerie, don’t be like that. We all want to go swimming but these flowers aren’t going to crown themselves.” Kell offers a smile.

“Well said, Kell. We have responsibilities that we must uphold. Supplying the festival with hearthbloom wreaths is one of them.”

“Guts! Why are you so obsessed with Omie? You’re not even religious! You-“

“Valerie, that is enough. I have my reasons. You would not understand.”

“Because you never explain anything to us! It’s always ‘Time to visit the temple,’ ‘Be careful around the statue,’ ‘Omie watches over you!’ We know nothing about you aside from the fact you’re friends with our mom. You just show up every once in a while to gush about your celebrity crush then disappear again. I witness enough of parasocial relationships when Francesca rambles about that stupid watchman!”

“Hey, I love him!”

“He doesn’t even know who you are!”

“It’s true love!”

“That’s dumb!”

“I’m going to marry him one day!”

“You’re an idiot! All of you suck! I want Maurin back!”

Silence. “And there it is.” Bernadette mumbles. “Why don’t the two of you head home? We can visit Graciela later.”

Francesca and Kell take one last glance over their shoulders before descending the hill. Fran’s face scrunches in anger. She tosses her hair and leaves with her nose in the air. Kell’s eyes dart between me and the witch worriedly but he still follows.

I can’t stop shaking. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep myself from crying but tears have already blurred my vision. Bernadette is a colorful blob as she cups my cheek with her hand. I swat her away when her thumb sweeps across my skin. There is an energy burning inside me and I’m not sure if I can keep it in there.

“Maybe nothing I say will ease your pain but just know that it is okay to feel this way. Your grief is valid in whatever form it takes.”

A sound catches in my throat and I feel that ember surge. “GUTS!” I whip around and punch the tree behind me, regretting my decision immediately as I buckle, cradling my fist as the sobs break through my throat.

Bernadette gently takes my hand in hers, “It is broken. Let us get you to Oakley.”

When Mom sees my sorry state through the window of the healing room, she rushes to the door. “Goodness! What happened?”

“I can heal it myself.” I grumble.

“This is too severe for you, darling. Now, tell me, what did you do?”

“I hit a tree.” I take a seat at the dining table with my lip out.

Mom sighs. “Fran said that you’ve been having some big feelings, is that right?” She definitely didn’t say it that nicely. I nod. “You miss Maurin, don’t you?”

I feel the tears return but the ember is finished. “Yeah.” I choke.

“The Crown is doing everything they can to bring the missing children home. We’re all sad, we’re all scared,” Mom’s glistening eyes meet mine, “But we have to have faith. Your brother… is okay. He’s smart and he’s strong. We’ll all be reunited soon.” She lets go of my hand, now all better. “I have to get back to my other patients. Please, go with Bernadette and finish the wreaths.” Mom goes back to the sitting-room-turned-workshop, leaving us to return to the temple.

----------

Hello! Winvyre here. I thank you for your faith and patience even when I have nothing to show for my progress so to express my gratitude I will be posting the entirety of this draft's [Valerie's Story] chapter one on my page today in segments scheduled to upload on the hour. Stay tuned and please feel free to ask questions!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

[adamwatchesmovies]

The Family Man (2000)

Around the holidays, you’re probably sitting around the TV with your loved ones, exchanging gifts and creating warm memories. Your heart is probably a bit mushy - your head might be too from too many glasses of “egg nog”. This makes you the perfect target for The Family Man, which is essentially a retread of other, better Christmas films with a couple of knobs tweaked. It’s got appeal but it’s no classic.

Thirteen years ago, Jack Campbell (Nicolas Cage) said goodbye to Kate Reynolds (Téa Leoni) and swore he’d come back for her after his twelve-month internship with Barclays in London. They never saw each other again. Now a bachelor living as a Wall Street executive, Jack gets to see the life he never got to live when he wakes up one day, married to Kate with two children.

We’ve got a kind of body-switch movie meets a reverse “It’s a Wonderful Life” scenario. Jack was used to lighting his fancy cigars with dollar bills. Now, he’s sleeping next to the same woman every morning, trying in vain to bring his daughter, Annie (Makenzie Vega) to school while keeping an eye on his newborn son. He sells tires at his father-in-law’s business and has a pathetic wardrobe compared to the luxurious suits he used to wear. The scenario is played for comedy until (of course) Jack begins to warm up to his new family. This is where the film wobbles. There’s a reason why body-switch movies usually feature someone at the bottom thrust up. A kid becomes an exec at a toy company, a daughter gets her mother’s body, a woman whose marriage is falling apart goes back in time to when she and her future husband first met. When you have it the other way around, it creates a divide between you and the protagonist. Firstly, Jack is hard to relate to. He went from a luxury suite in New York, working at a job that meant setting up meetings on Christmas day to what most of us would call an ordinary life. No one watching would ever think "This is not an upgrade". Secondly, Jack is an idiot for a large chunk of this movie, unable to handle even simple household tasks. It’s comical for a bit but this film leans heavily on the emotional side and the two should mix… but they just don’t.

A hint of what this picture could’ve been is seen briefly whenever Jack and his daughter interact. She recognizes immediately that something’s amiss - it’s pretty easy to tell but she’s the only one who does - and volunteers to help her “father” get through the day. Those scenes bring a smile to your face. More of those, please!

That said, the film often hits the emotional notes well enough for you to forgive its predictable storyline. For one, Téa Leoni and Nicolas Cage have fantastic chemistry. From their interactions, you’re immediately sold on the new lifestyle that’s been thrust onto Jack’s lap even though most of the movie doesn’t have the two of them properly in love. Maybe its the Christmas sentiments making your heart soft but whenever Jack has a revelation about his new life, you agree with it. In the back of your mind, you know the ending will be big and dramatic, that this glimpse at an alternate reality isn’t going to last, which fills you with sadness. You like this family. You want to see more of them and you want Jack to figure out what you knew from the second you saw him wake up next to Kate.

How you ultimately feel about The Family Man depends on how carefully you scrutinize it. Compared to the films it most closely resembles, it doesn’t hold up. Even without the comparisons, its nature prevents the film from creating the kind of emotional swell that sweeps you away. If you’re watching it with the whole family - the kids are there, your cousin who only watches Steven Seagall movies is there and grandma too - and you don't overthink it, Nicolas Cage and Téa Leoni work together well enough for you to enjoy The Family Man. (On Blu-ray, November 30, 2019)

[pesterloglog]

Dave Strider, Vriska Serket, Rose Lalonde, Tavrosprite, Karkat Vantas, Kanaya Maryam, Arquiusprite, Jake English, Terezi Pyrope, Gamzee Makara

Act 6, page 7457-7462

DAVE: is it time yet

VRISKA: No.

DAVE: oh

DAVE: how about now

VRISKA: No!!!!!!!!

VRISKA: Dave, we've 8een w8ing for three years.

VRISKA: Three years is a pretty long time. Long enough for me to have picked up the ha8it of calling them years instead of the far more sensi8le unit of measurement, sweeps.

VRISKA: I think you should 8e a8le to survive just a little longer.

DAVE: i still dont understand whats supposed to happen

DAVE: hes just supposed to like

DAVE: appear?

VRISKA: That's my understanding, yes.

DAVE: you mean

DAVE: here

DAVE: on this frog circle thing

VRISKA: I don't know!

VRISKA: Somewhere in this session. At which point, if he has any 8rain at all, he'll seek us out.

DAVE: so jade came on a gold ship through a tiny window apparently

DAVE: but john wasnt on it??

VRISKA: Well, his corpse was, somewhere.

VRISKA: 8ut that John doesn't matter anymore.

VRISKA: Kind of like how there was a 8ird version of you out there, now presumed dead, who also didn't matter.

VRISKA: The "real" John and the other Lalonde girl will spontaneously appear from a different reality.

VRISKA: I determined a lot of this through my time travel reconaissance work upon arriving in this session.

VRISKA: Sorry to steal all the timey thunder from the gr8 "Knight of Time", end quote, 8ut someone had to take the initi8tive and go on a fact-finding mission.

DAVE: no its cool

DAVE: you can have that thunder if you want it

ROSE: When exactly is this supposed to happen?

VRISKA: Soon!

ROSE: And she's...

ROSE: Unhurt?

ROSE: Will she remember our brief encounter?

VRISKA: This is a totally different Lalonde girl. Things went differently for her, so she'll have different memories.

VRISKA: I have no idea if you and she interacted at all in her timeline.

VRISKA: I don't know the full extent of John's alt-reality experiences either. 8ut apparently things went raw for them in a8out as many ways as you can imagine.

VRISKA: Presuma8ly 8ecause I wasn't around to keep everyone's shit in order.

TAVROSPRITE: oHHHHHH,

TAVROSPRITE: sNAP,!

VRISKA: ::::)

TAVROSPRITE: aHAHA, bUT YEAH, i AGREE WITH THE SENTIMENT LARGELY,

TAVROSPRITE: oF YOU BEING MORE COMPETENT, tHAN MOST PEOPLE IN GENERAL, vRISKA,

VRISKA: Thanks, Tavros!

TAVROSPRITE: }:)

KARKAT: HEY, LOOK

KARKAT: I KNOW I'M NOT CONSIDERED "IMPORTANT" ENOUGH TO BE "IN THE LOOP" ON CERTAIN KEY TACTICAL DECISIONS ANYMORE

KARKAT: AND THAT I DON'T REALLY KNOW WHAT'S GOING ON MOST OF THE TIME AND THEREFORE AM FORCED TO TAKE ANY BULLSHIT THAT HAPPENS WITH A GRAIN OF SNACK MINERAL BIG ENOUGH TO BLUDGEON A MAN TO DEATH

KARKAT: BUT IF IT'S NOT TOO MUCH TROUBLE VRISKA, MAYBE YOU COULD TAKE A MOMENT TO EXPLAIN WHY TAVROS IS NOW A SPRITE?!

KARKAT: AND EQUIUS TOO, AND ALSO, WHY EQUIUS IS WEARING A NEW PAIR OF MORONIC LOOKING SUNGLASSES.

KARKAT: THANKS IN ADVANCE!!!

VRISKA: Sorry if you're having trou8le keeping up with the times, Karkat.

VRISKA: I didn't explain it 8ecause I thought the nature of the development was fairly self evident?

VRISKA: I mean, no offense, 8ut I didn't hear anyone else voicing any confusion.

VRISKA: What a8out you, Kanaya. Did you think it was fairly self evident?

KANAYA: I Thought It Was Fairly Self Evident

VRISKA: Yeah. See????????

KANAYA: You Apparently Took It Upon Yourself To Prototype The Three Year Old Cadavers Of Two Of Our Deceased Friends

KARKAT: NO, I GOT THAT!

KARKAT: I'M NOT A FUCKING IDIOT.

KARKAT: I MEAN, WHERE DID YOU FIND THESE UNPROTOTYPED KERNELS? DIDN'T THESE PEOPLE ALREADY ENTER THEIR SESSION?

VRISKA: Yes, they did MONTHS ago, from the current frame of reference. 8ut this is a VOID session, Karkat.

VRISKA: I thought we talked a8out this?

KARKAT: ??????

VRISKA: A void session 8y definition is one where the players enter the game with the kernels unprototyped.

VRISKA: As such, it 8ecomes totally dysfunctional. It can't 8ear fruit, 8ecause there's no 8attlefield in Skaia, unless you go to the trou8le of putting one there of course.

VRISKA: Which the Condesce has already done for us! Via "Grim8ark Jade", prior to our arrival. Quite consider8te of her, really.

VRISKA: This is aside from the point though. The 8ottom line is, this session comes courtesy with four unprototyped kernels, waiting to 8e put to use.

VRISKA: So, not 8eing one to let a sweet perk go to waste, I took initi8tive and put two of them to use myself.

VRISKA: Really, this is some 8asic stuff, and I'm SURE we went over it all at one point during our trip.

ROSE: We did.

ROSE: Karkat, don't you remember when I walked everyone through this?

ROSE: I was making extensive notes in my journal. When I looked away for a moment, you and Dave wrested the tome away, and began scribbling phalluses in it while giggling like children.

KARKAT: UM, MAYBE?!

KARKAT: I GUESS THAT RINGS A DONG SHOUTER.

DAVE: (a what? dude lmao)

KARKAT: (WHAT? SHUT UP.)

KARKAT: LOOK, A LOT HAS HAPPENED IN THREE YEARS. WE'VE ALL BEEN THROUGH... STUFF.

KARKAT: AM I REALLY EXPECTED TO REMEMBER EVERY TEDIOUS MORSEL OF EXPOSITION FROM OUR RESIDENT LIGHT-BORES?

VRISKA: Rose, get a load of this ungr8teful philistine! He doesn't deserve our fucking acumen.

VRISKA: 8etween your nerdish o8session over the knowledge granted 8y our aspect, and my unprecedented a8ility to weaponize said knowledge with ruthless gamesmanship, we are dou8le-handedly saving the asses of everyone on this team.

ROSE: I'm glad at least one person here appreciates this categorical certainty.

KANAYA: (Hey I Appreciate That Categorical Certainty!)

ROSE: (Whom do you think I was referring to?) ;)

KARKAT: WOW OK, WHAT THE FUCK EVER TO THAT VAINGLORIOUS LOAD OF CRAP.

KARKAT: I'M STILL SPOUTING OFF HERE!

KARKAT: I THINK

VRISKA: That's fine, Karkat!

VRISKA: Take all the time you need to collect yourself, and continue frothing at the mouth whenever you're ready.

KARKAT: OK, I FIGURED OUT SOME STUFF I'M STILL EITHER PISSED OFF AND/OR CONFUSED ABOUT.

KARKAT: YOU SAY THERE ARE FOUR KERNELS HERE...

KARKAT: YOU KNOW, WE *DID* LOSE MORE THAN TWO FRIENDS ON THAT METEOR.

KARKAT: WHICH REMINDS ME, I GUESS I SHOULD SAY... HI TAVROS AND EQUIUS, AGAIN??? NICE TO SEE YOU GUYS BACK WITH US, SORT OF.

KARKAT: PARDON ME IF I CAN'T GET TOO SENTIMENTAL ABOUT THE REUNION, SINCE ALONG THE WAY HERE, WE RAN INTO ABOUT TEN DIFFERENT VERSIONS OF YOUR STUPID GHOSTS.

KARKAT: THAT KIND OF LETS A LITTLE AIR OUT OF THE POIGNANCY BALLOON, SORRY!

TAVROSPRITE: hEY BUDDY, };)

KARKAT: DON'T WINK AT ME

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> Greetings old friend

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> Not to worry, I have stored enough poignancy in my heaving, balloon-like pectorals for the both of us

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> Though I should clarify that appro%imately half of my personally couldn't give the faintest fidgeting horse dump about you or your sentimental notions

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> Also I am very busy here, so stop talking to me completely

VRISKA: Hahahaha!!!!!!!!

VRISKA: Oh man. Classic.

DAVE: haha...ha

KARKAT: OK, THAT WAS WEIRD?

DAVE: (um... yeah)

KARKAT: AND SPEAKING OF WEIRD, ONE THING THAT BUGS ME ABOUT THIS IS...

KARKAT: I GUESS IT IMPLIES YOU'VE BEEN HORDING THE BODIES OF OUR DEAD FRIENDS FOR THE PAST THREE YEARS?!

KARKAT: THAT'S A BIT FUCKED UP! EVEN FOR YOU.

KARKAT: AND NOT TO GET TOO MACABRE, BUT I WOULD HAVE THOUGHT THEY WOULD HAVE LIKE, ROTTED BY NOW OR SOMETHING.

VRISKA: Yes, there was some moder8te decomposition.

VRISKA: I did my 8est to preserve them for the journey, after quickly rounding up the 8odies while people had their 8acks turned.

KARKAT: WELL SHIT

KARKAT: THAT'S A HELL OF A MYSTERY, THAT I ALWAYS THOUGHT WAS A MYSTERY, BUT FOUND IT TOO DISTURBING TO CONTEMPLATE SOLVING

KARKAT: BUT DAMN IF IT DIDN'T JUST GET SOLVED, SO THAT'S FUCKED UP.

VRISKA: If you would stop 8eing a wuss for a half second a8out a 8unch of corpses, I'll explain my reasoning.

VRISKA: These are the only two sprites I had any intention of using for resurrection purposes.

VRISKA: I 8rought Tavros 8ack, 8ecause let's face it, that was kind of my fault, for unnecessarily impaling him with his own lance and all.

VRISKA: It was my responsi8ility to make amends for that! So I did.

TAVROSPRITE: aWWWWWWWWWWWWW, yEEAAAA-

VRISKA: Tavros, don't interrupt.

TAVROSPRITE: wHOOPS,

VRISKA: Then, I made Arquiusprite happen 8ecause, first of all, he's a national fucking treasure.

VRISKA: Literally everything he says is perfect and hilarious, and if I hear a single word to the contrary from the peanut gallery, the motherfucker with a 8eef rockets to the top of my shit list. So please, I enthusiastically invite one of you no-taste mouth 8reathers to talk smack a8out the A-man. Make my day!

DAVE: vris yo nobodys arguing with you on that everybody here thinks hes pretty cool

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> 🕶️

DAVE: like just enough freakshow steps removed from being my bro i guess enough to make me not feel like-

VRISKA: Dave, don't interrupt either.

VRISKA: No8ody's allowed to interrupt me when I'm talking up Arquiusprite! That's the rule.

TAVROSPRITE: (owNeD!) (woW, oWned,)

DAVE: (oh stfu)

VRISKA: SECOND, the guy is a fucking tactical genius.

VRISKA: Totally conniving and calcul8ting, and unafraid to use methods that are just a 8IT morally du8ious to achieve his o8jectives.

VRISKA: And since I can't stick around for too long, your party is going to need someone like that.

VRISKA: 8esides, it seems like a really fitting f8 for Equius. He genuinely seems to 8e more comforta8le with this st8 of existence, and seems a lot happier than I ever remem8er him 8eing when he was alive.

VRISKA: So I'm perfectly willing to do him this solid. After all, he did help me out when I 8lew my arm off. So now we're square!

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> You mean triangular

VRISKA: What?

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> Triangular

VRISKA: I don't...

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> It's the shape of my clopdamned glasses

VRISKA: Oh.

VRISKA: OH!

VRISKA: Ahahahaha! See what I mean, guys??

VRISKA: He's a fucking riot!

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> Agreed

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> Thank you for the STRONG endhorsement, lowblood slash person I've never heard of and don't care about

VRISKA: HAHAHAHA!

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> I'll be finished my work here momentarily

JAKE: Excuse me...

JAKE: Mister arquius?

JAKE: What exactly are you... doing to her?

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> I am disabling her tiara top

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> It is e%tremely delicate work, not to be trusted to human hooves

VRISKA: Yes.

VRISKA: I've also decided it's imper8tive to reclaim Crocker from the Condesce 8efore she can wake up and cause more trou8le.

VRISKA: Her powers will 8e incredi8ly advantageous to winning the 8attle ahead. If you can keep her out of harm's way, in addition to providing her general purpose resor8tive capa8ilities, she also represents one extra life for every8ody.

VRISKA: And since heroic deaths could 8e getting handed out like inexpensive to8acco flutes pretty soon, I'm guessing this 8oon is gonna come in handy!

TEREZI: SO UM

TEREZI: WH4T 4BOUT OUR OTH3R D34D FR13NDS?

VRISKA: Huh?

TEREZI: YOU KNOW... N3P3T4, 3R1D4N...

VRISKA: Oh right. Them.

VRISKA: I was getting to that!

TEREZI: OH OK

TEREZI: 1 KNOW W3 T4LK3D 4 LOT OF STR4T3GY 1N 4DV4NC3, VR1SK4

TEREZI: BUT 1 R34LLY DON'T R3M3MB3R YOU M3NT1ON1NG 4 PL4N TO PROTOTYP3 OUR FR13NDS' CORPS3S

TEREZI: M1GHT H4V3 B33N N1C3 TO G3T 4 H34DS UP!

TEREZI: UM, NOT TO M4K3 4 B4D PUN, ON 4CCOUNT OF TH3 F4CT TH4T MOST OF TH31R H34DS W3R3 L1T3R4LLY S3V3R3D >:[

VRISKA: Yeah, sorry!

VRISKA: I had a lot of logistics 8uzzing around in my 8rain.

VRISKA: It's hard to keep you apprised of EVERYTHING that crosses my mind.

VRISKA: I promise I'll 8e as thorough and transparent a8out my motives as I can from now on, ok Pyrope?

TEREZI: OK >:]

VRISKA: So after prototyping Tavros and Equius, that leaves four remaining dead friends, 8ut only two empty kernels.

VRISKA: O8viously this presents quite a dilemma!

VRISKA: Well, ok, technically three and a half friends, whatever the fuck that means.

VRISKA: Nepeta, Feferi, Eridan, and Sollux's... dead 8ody? With his "half ghost" floating out there with Aradia.

VRISKA: I know that caveat sounds stupid as hell, 8ut let's not get hung up on it.

VRISKA: The fact is, we've got four corpses, 8ut only two slots remaining.

VRISKA: And there's no way I'm going to lump their 8odies into the same sprite to make a pair of freaks resigned to an existential hell worse than death.

VRISKA: Except in Arquiusprite's case, since those two nutjo8s mesh with each other's personalities so phenomenally.

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> I must complimount the e%quisite judgment you've shown in this matter

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> But if I may suggest, neigh, perhaps, command?

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> You should prototype the two royal bloods and be done with it

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> They deserve it

VRISKA: No!!!!!!!!

VRISKA: Arquius, your reserv8tion is noted, 8ut the hemospectrum is 8ullshit.

VRISKA: It's not going to factor into this decision!

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> I STRONGLY disagree, but also, sort of don't care

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> As you were

VRISKA: So considering there are four left, and I can't personally say that any is more deserving of life than the others, I intend to let them all rest in peace.

VRISKA: That is my ruling, and I'm inclined to call it final.

VRISKA: They can live out the rest of their afterlives in the dream 8u88les, which still need to 8e saved from Lord English, lest we forget.

VRISKA: 8ut of greater importance HERE is the fact that this leaves two empty kernels as a resurrection 8ackup, in case one or two of you jokers dies in the line of duty once too often.

VRISKA: 8elieve me, you'll thank me later for thinking this all through so well in advance.

TEREZI: OK, TH4T'S 4 GOOD R34SON TO H4V3 SP4R3 K3RN3LS, BUT...

TEREZI: M4YB3 W3 SHOULD B4CK UP 4 B1T!

TEREZI: 1'M NOT SUR3 YOUR V3RD1CT ON OUR D34D FR13NDS 1S TOT4LLY 41R T1GHT, OR TH4T YOU H4V3 TH3 4UTHOR1TY TO M4K3 4 F1N4L RUL1NG!

VRISKA: Come on, Terezi. I'm not saying I'm an "authority" on mortality here, I only said my ruling was final 8ecause my logic was so impecca8le!

VRISKA: It was kind of like, a figure of speech??

TEREZI: Y34H R1GHT

TEREZI: L3T'S TH1NK 1T THROUGH 4 L1TTL3 MOR3

TEREZI: SOLLUX'S H4LF GHOST 1S P3RF3CTLY H4PPY OUT TH3R3 W1TH 4R4D14

TEREZI: W3'V3 S33N H1M 4ND CONF1RM3D 1T OURS3LV3S, SO TH3R3'S NO R34SON TO CONS1D3R H1M

TEREZI: 4ND 3R1D4N???

TEREZI: H3 MURD3R3D F3F3R1, 4ND TR13D TO K1LL K4N4Y4 4ND SOLLUX!

TEREZI: H3 DO3SN'T 3V3N D3S3RV3 TO B3 1N TH3 RUNN1NG

TEREZI: BUT N3P3T4 4ND F3F3R1? WH4T D1D TH3Y 3V3R DO TO 4NYBODY?

VRISKA: Yes, this is my point exactly!!!!!!!!

VRISKA: I don't want to 8e the ar8iter of Eridan's value as a person 8ecause of the mistakes he's made!

VRISKA: Or Feferi's or Nepeta's or Sollux's or ANY8ODY'S!

VRISKA: The only reason I chose these two over others is on account of taking responsi8ility for some nasty shit I PERSONALLY did, plus also some tactical consider8tions for the gr8ter good, 8ut that's different.

VRISKA: I would think you of all people would 8e on the same page as me when it comes to taking responsi8ility for your own actions, while in the same stride, not judging other people for their misdeeds too harshly.

VRISKA: 8ut if you feel comforta8le continuing to crown yourself as the Queen of Justice, then 8e my guest!

TEREZI: OH G1V3 M3 4 BR34K

TEREZI: 1 TH1NK W3 BOTH KNOW TH3 JUST1C3 1SSU3S H3R3 4R3 PR3TTY CUT 4ND DR13D

TEREZI: SOLLUX *W4NTS* TO B3 WH3R3 H3 1S

TEREZI: 3R1D4N 1S 4 MURD3ROUS DOUCH3

TEREZI: TH3 G1RLS 4R3 1NNOC3NT

TEREZI: 1 S4Y W3 BR1NG TH3M B4CK!

VRISKA: Terezi, please. Let's not 8icker in front of the party.

VRISKA: We need to 8e showing solidarity here!

TEREZI: W3 DO?

VRISKA: Yes. We are equally important to the party as its overarching executives. The ones with the most experience in the department of guile and ruthlessness.

VRISKA: I may project my voice louder than you, and 8orrow the spotlight for a little longer, 8ut you were always the soul of Team Scourge!

VRISKA: I couldn't 8e doing this without you. I wouldn't even want to!

TEREZI: 4W

TEREZI: Y34H, OK

TEREZI: YOU'R3 R1GHT... 1'M B3H1ND YOU 4LL TH3 W4Y!

VRISKA: ::::)

VRISKA: I st8ted my case, 8ut if you REALLY want to revive them, that's fine with me.

VRISKA: I've got the torso parts with me right here, so feel free to round them up and prototype them any time.

TEREZI: YOU DO?

TEREZI: ...WH3R3?

VRISKA: In the hunger trunk!

VRISKA: I've stashed all the spare remains there to keep them fresh, along with our, ahem. Final living party mem8er.

TEREZI: HUH?

TEREZI: OH

TEREZI: OHHHHH

TEREZI: HMM

TEREZI: WOW, Y34H

TEREZI: 1 TH1NK, UM

TEREZI: 1 TH1NK 1'LL R3V1V3 TH3M... 4 L1TTL3 L4T3R?

TEREZI: Y34H.

TEREZI: L4T3R.

VRISKA: Suit yourself!

DAVE: so

DAVE: am i inferring correctly from some shit i just heard

DAVE: that uh

TEREZI: 1NF3RR1NG WH4T?

DAVE: that vriska is like the de facto team leader now

DAVE: or vriska and terezi...

DAVE: i dunno i never understood the scourge shit

DAVE: you two have always been like this scheming giggling enigma huddled together in peapod for hella self-tickled murderdorks

DAVE: couldnt for the life of me figure out what youve been getting up to on that meteor

DAVE: is this it

TEREZI: 1S WH4T 1T??

DAVE: the plan you were hatching all along

DAVE: is this like your big move

DAVE: your power play to usurp karkat as team leader finally

VRISKA: Oh 8rother.

VRISKA: Dave, no, this isn't a coup. It's just common sense rearing its ugly head for a change.

DAVE: oh got it

VRISKA: Good.

DAVE: wait no dont got it

VRISKA: Argh!

DAVE: it sounds like youre just like

DAVE: being the leader now cause you want to

DAVE: and making all the plans because nobody else wants to or really cares

DAVE: i mean not that i even care either i just want to set the record straight

DAVE: karkat are you cool with this

VRISKA: Sigh. ::::|

DAVE: karkat

DAVE: karkat

DAVE: karkat

DAVE: yo karkat

KARKAT: WHAT!!!!!!

DAVE: oh my god

DAVE: dude were you just not listening to any of that

KARKAT: TO WHAT?

KARKAT: WHAT

KARKAT: WHAT'S HAPPENING NOW?

DAVE: hahaha

DAVE: man how long have you been tuning all this shit out

DAVE: i mean i literally just said i dont give a fuck about any of the shit vriska is saying so maybe im not one to talk but at least i had the decency to actually be joking about that

DAVE: what the fuck are you even doing

KARKAT: SORRY!

KARKAT: YEAH, SORRY, I'M GUILTY!

KARKAT: I ZONED OUT ON SOME OF SERKET'S SELF IMPORTANT BLITHER, AND WAS CARRYING A *PRIVATE CONVERSATION* WITH THE MAYOR.

KARKAT: IS THAT OK??

DAVE: dude you dont have to get the go ahead from me

DAVE: shoring up a lil one on one time with the mayor is literally always acceptable

DAVE: what were you talking about

KARKAT: IT'S PRIVATE!

DAVE: i didnt hear you mumbling anything though

KARKAT: WE WERE MOSTLY COMMUNICATING THROUGH A SERIES OF SIMPLE GESTURES

KARKAT: I WAS TALKING SMACK ABOUT CERTAIN PEOPLE HERE, AND CHOSE TO REMAIN DISCREET ABOUT IT!

DAVE: no yeah i know what thats all about

DAVE: how when you talk to the mayor and most of the time words arent even necessary like he just *knows*

DAVE: man the mayor is just so wonderful i love him so much

DAVE: hey lets all take turns hugging him

KARKAT: NO!

KARKAT: THAT'S FUCKING STUPID, JUST

KARKAT: WHAT WERE YOU SAYING? WHEN I WAS SPACING OUT JUST THEN?

DAVE: oh nothing really

DAVE: just wondering how you felt about vriska usurping your leadership role

DAVE: and if maybe you wanted to throw a vintage shitfit about that or...

KARKAT: OH!

KARKAT: OH!!!!!

KARKAT: HAHA!

KARKAT: HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

KARKAT: THAT'S A GOOD ONE DAVE!

KARKAT: WOW! HAHA, HA, HAHAHAHA! ME LEADER?? TOO FUNNY!

KARKAT: I AM ENTIRELY AND SINGULARLY BAFFLED THAT IT COULD STILL EVEN *OCCUR* TO ANYONE TO ENTERTAIN THE NOTION THAT I MIGHT STILL BE PLAYING *ANY* ROLE EVEN WITHIN SNIFFING ORBIT OF A LEADERSHIP POSITION OF THIS RIDICULOUS PARTY.

KARKAT: WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME I DID *ANYTHING* OF A LEADER-LIKE NATURE, WITHOUT BEING TRUMPED BY VRISKA'S MACHIAVELLIAN LIMELIGHT GLUTTONY?

KARKAT: OR FOR THAT MATTER, WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME THERE WAS ACTUALLY ANYTHING LEADERY *TO* DO, THAT DIDN'T INVOLVE SNUGGLING UP ON THE COUCH TO WATCH "GOOD LUCK CHUCK" FOR THE FIVE HUNDREDTH TIME?!

KARKAT: I HAVE SERIOUSLY JUST BEEN ASSUMING HER COMPLETE TAKEOVER OF ALL LEADERSHIP DUTIES WAS SOME FAIT ACCOMPLI SHIT FOR THREE SOLID YEARS, AND HAVE SINCE BEEN ENJOYING THE PEACE AND QUIET OF ZERO RESPONSIBILITIES, WHICH IS WHY QUITE FRANKLY, I HAVE BEEN ABLE TO KEEP MY BLOOD PRESSURE DOWN, AND NOW RESEMBLE THE LIVING EMBODIMENT OF PEACE AND FUCKING TRANQUILITY WHICH PRESENTLY BASKS BEFORE YOU IN A STATE OF FROTHING, EUPHORIA-HOBBLED TURDVANA!!!!!!!!

DAVE: ok so vintage shitfit it is

VRISKA: Karkat, that was a 8eautiful soliliquy of acceptance and understanding of your role, due to acknowledgement of your overwhelming personal limit8tions.

VRISKA: 8ut 8e that as it may, you still ACTUALLY DO need to 8e paying attention here, so you can keep up with the plan.

VRISKA: While I may 8e the leader now, this may 8e the last day I see any of you for a very long time.

VRISKA: Someone's going to need to step up when I'm gone!

KARKAT: ALRIGHT SERKET, THEN I'LL MAKE THIS A LOT EASIER FOR YOU, AND THE TEAM AS A WHOLE.

KARKAT: STARTING NOW, I HEREBY RENOUNCE MY ROLE AS A LEADER OF THIS GROUP, OR ANY, FOREVER!

KARKAT: VRISKA ALONG WITH HER TACTICAL VIRTUOUSITY AND MONSTROUS EGO ARE MORE THAN SUITED FOR THE ROLE.

KARKAT: AND IF, WHEN, AND TO *WHEREVER* SHE EVENTUALLY DECIDES TO FUCK OFF FOR MYSTERIOUS, YET-TO-BE-EXPLAINED REASONS, THEN ANYBODY ELSE WHO FEELS INCLINED CAN SLIDE RIGHT INTO THAT POSITION, SO LONG AS IT ISN'T ME!!!

VRISKA: Gr8! It's settled, I'm the leader.

VRISKA: I gladly accept the 8aton you are going to such lengths to pass to me, Karkat. Honored in fact.

VRISKA: Not everyone is nearly as passion8 a8out la8els or ranks as you. In fact, I'm pretty whatever a8out the distinction. 8ut your melodramatic endorsement of my a8ilities is appreci8ted.

KARKAT: LJSDLKFJASDLALKJASDKLSHDKLAHSFKLASHB

KANAYA: Excuse Me

KANAYA: Miss Leader

VRISKA: Hmmm????

KANAYA: Not That It Would Ever Occur To Me To Cast The Slightest Doubt On Your Strategic Expertise

KANAYA: But I Was Wondering When You Were Planning On Getting To The Actual Strategy Part Of This Meeting

VRISKA: Glad you asked, Maryam!

VRISKA: Way to keep the meeting on point. Remind me to give you a promotion.

KANAYA: A Promotion To What

VRISKA: Nothing. No8ody's getting a promotion, it was a joke.

KANAYA: Fuck

VRISKA: The answer is very soon!

VRISKA: As soon as Eg8ert and Lalonde get here.

VRISKA: Which should 8e...

VRISKA: Riiiiiiiight a8out...

VRISKA:

VRISKA: Riiiight a8out........

another second or two!

VRISKA: Riiiiiiiight...

DAVE: vriska

VRISKA: Riiiiiiiight!!! About...

DAVE: yo can we maybe bust out some refreshments while we wait for this totally imminent thing to transpire

DAVE: can i take a look in the fridge

VRISKA: There are no drinks in the fridge!

DAVE: whats in the fridge

DAVE: sorry i think i missed that part of the conversation

DAVE: oh

DAVE: yeah never mind

VRISKA: Shh! Sh, shh-shhhh, SHHHHHHHH!

VRISKA: Shut the fuck up.

VRISKA: They're here!

[eldritchcreatureofwords]

LOL OK, babes, I was nice and polite to you because I thought you were a decent person, just a little on the stupid side, but now? Now, you get the horns. It is not 'mental gymnastics' or 'jumping through hoops' to say that the reason why Ozzie and Fizzie being in a relationship is bad and Bee and Tex is fine is because Bee and Tex have different dynamics then Ozzie and Fizzie.

Here, I'll go ahead and just copy and paste what was said so that everyone can read and see what your idea of 'mental gymnastics' is. Ozzie is the embodiment of lust. Not love. Lust. The idea that LUST has settled into and fallen in love with one person is WEIRD. Bee is Gluttony, which has nothing to do with relationships or love or lust- it just means she wants a lot of everything. Not only that, but no where is it implied that Bee and Tex are in a monogomous relationship; they could be fucking each other and everything and everyone else in the room. Ozzie and Fizz? Seem to be down bad exclusively for one another.

Consider the actual episode Ozzie's; they weren't hiding that they were fucking, but that they were in a loving, committed relationship. It's Ozzie's reputation they're protecting as a viral, wild Sin of lust and sex- not the idea that he's in a relationship with an imp but that he's in a relationship at all. Mammon is a fucking idiot. That much is made pretty clear to us from the jump. He's stupid. It takes him until he is specifically called out by name before he realizes Two Minutes' Notice is for him. There is every chance that this moron thinks that outing Ozzie will do a lot more harm than it actually will because- and exclusively because- Ozzie makes such an effort to keep it under lock and key.

Such wild 'mental gymnastics', right? Totally that, and not logical deductive reasoning that anyone above the age of a child should be able to comprehend! But according to you, because the show did not spell this out in black and white, it is bad story telling.

See, the thing is, babes, that spelling things out in black in white is actually the bad story telling.

If a story has to explicitly tell you every single detail for you to be able to understand and comprehend it and its nuances, either you are remarkably unintelligent and lacking in media literacy to an alarming degree or the media itself is badly written and/or designed for people that are. Or maybe you're referring to those wild, wild mental gymnastics that we used when talking about Striker? You know, when you said- lolol- that the only reason you could possibly see for him to hate nobility and blue bloods is because of money?

And people went 'uh, actually, it's pretty clear from the way he speaks that he hates nobility because nobility hurt him, deeply, and his anger and hate is likely born from grief and trauma?'

You know, that thing that's very clear if you have an idea of media literacy and subtext and understanding of characters or, in fact, people, and the way they react to things? The thing that the fandom at large agrees on because most of them don't need this shit spelled out for them? Look, I get not loving that a lot of lore comes from off-screen interactions. That's fine. You do you! I personally don't have a problem with it but some people don't enjoy it and that's fair. But to sit there and literally state with your whole chest that you refuse to take anything not in the show as canon is absurd, pure, plain, and simple. Is Blitzo Buckzo fucking bisexual, then, not pan, because he hasn't come on screen and yelled 'HEY EVERYONE, I'M PANSEXUAL!'? and only slept with a woman and a man as far as the show tells us? And to claim that anyone who is capable of analysing, understanding, and diving into things that are not 100% explicitly stated is doing 'mental gymnastics'- and then not even have the balls to say it to their faces but go behind their backs and vague blog about it like a fucking teenager- is also absurd. This behavior absolutely shames you, Afro, and as someone who thought of you as something of a friend before, I am deeply, deeply fucking disappointed.

When I get famous I also need people to perform mental gymnastics to justify my lack of consistency and come up with lore reasons for it.

[millenialfanfictionaddiction]

Being Team Japan's Manager:

🦉 Bokuto Has a HUGE crush 🦉

*I know this isn't "technically" Team Japan Bokuto but it's close enough 💅🏼

Bokuto Kotaro featuring Team Japan x Gender Neutral Reader (they/them pronouns)

Warnings: NONE ! Pure fluff 🥰

A/N: Only the best for our sweet angel 🥰 Happy Birthday Big Owl 🥺🥺

How you managed to become Team Japan's Manager still baffles you to this day

It's one of the many mysteries of the world honestly

When you interviewed for the job, you knew immediately you wouldn't get it

There were like 500 people interviewing!

Seriously the odds were not in your favor

Actually, come to think of it 🤔 you getting hired might have had a little something to do with a certain interaction you had by the bathrooms prior to your interview

You see, you were washing your hands when suddenly you heard a loud commotion coming from outside the hallway

You dried your hand and peeked out the door to see four large men arguing

"Keep it together will you!"- a tall, untoned blonde yelled

"Seriously Bokuto, what's wrong now? This is kind of important!"- a man with spikey hair said

"He's just upset because Kuroo teased him about not making the starting line up"- a red headed shorter man said

You figured you shouldn't interrupt their conversation so you wanted to quickly sneak out and head back to the interview

Unfortunately you opened the door and ran smack into the chest of the owl-haired man

"Oh my goodness, I apologize!"- You said, bowing to him a little

He was bigger than you but he was a professional volleyball player

The man looked at you, eyes wide and mouth open 😲

You 👉🏻👀😅😬 umm hi

The tall owl 👉🏻😳😳😳

"Bokuto for God's sakes! I'm really sorry about him! I'm Iwaizumi, the teams athletic trainer"- The spikey haired man said

"Oh its not worries! I'm YN LN, I'm interviewing for the managers postion!"- you 🥰

"Damn you're hot"- the untoned blonde says as Iwaizumi turns, staring daggers at him

"I'm Hinata and this is Atsumu! I'm a wing spiker and hes our setter!"- the red headed man says joyfully

"And this is Bokuto, he's a wing-spiker as well"- Iwaizumi says, smacking Bokuto's back

Meanwhile Bokuto is still just standing there, mouth agape 😳😲

"It's very nice to meet you! Again I'm sorry for running into you, it was very nice meeting you all!"- You said, sliding past them and waving a little

Bokuto is still staring 😳

Literally, everyone starts walking away and Bokuto just stands there 🧍‍♂️ 😳

"Oh my god, come on ya idiot!"- Atsumu says finally dragging Bokuto the other way as you laugh a little

You head back to the waiting room just as your name is called

You interview, thanking everyone as you head out to leave

Suddenly Iwaizumi appears next to you

"How did it go?"- He asks as you stare up at him

"Umm I think it went well? I mean I have some experience. I use to play volleyball in high-school and college"- you say as Iwaizumi nodds

He opens up Kuroo's door, the Kuroo you just interviewed with and says "Kuroo we found our manager no need to do more interviews!"

"Thank God! I'm exhausted"- Kuroo says as you just stand there 🧍‍♀️

"Ummm what?"- You say looking at Iwaizumi 👁👄👁

"You will be a perfect fit YN, now come on let's go meet the team"- he says as you still stand there

Sir, YN is in shock you must help them

Iwaizumi 👉🏻🙄 come on YN let's go

And thats the story of how you ended up managing our precious Tean Japan 🥰

Wait, did I say precious? I meant demonic 🙃

Because YN, this job is not for the faint of heart

Seriously it's like managing a kindergarten classroom with the least cooperative kids

Kageyama and Atsumu are constantly fighting over who gets to be the starting setter 🙄

Sakusa always has a complaint

Yaku and Komori are always rolling around on the floor

Hinata and Hoshiumi have a daily battle of "who can jump the highest"

Hakuba and Hyakuzawa are constantly teasing Hinata and Hoshiumi

Aran and Iwaizumi are stressed

Ushijima literally has said hardly two words to you

And most of all, Bokuto has been hanging on you since day one 😅

Literally this man has clung to you like glue YN

The first day of practice, he dragged you everywhere just to show you around

Then you watched him shoot liners and cross court shots for what seemed like hours

"Bokuto you are so amazing! Those are some wicked hard shots to pull off!"- You, praising our owl angel 😇

Please Bokuto is already smitten with you YN lay off 😅

Literally this man is already in love with you YN and you've barely started working as the team's manager

Everyday, he runs up to you and greets you with a big hug 🥰

You love your Bokuto hugs because that man can hug like no other 🤚🏻

The other guys get jealous that Bokuto is hogging you all the time

"Hey Bokuto, let YN go!"- Atsumu

"YN, can you help Atsumu and Kageyama with their sets today?"- The coach asks

You 👉🏻 oh of course 🥰

Bokuto 👉🏻 instant deflate ☹️

"But- but YN always helps with spiking drills?"- Bokuto

"YN is really good at helping Kageyama and Atsumu adjust their sets so I want them working with the setters today"- Coach

Oh boy 😬

Iwaizumi sees it coming from a mile away and so does Hinata

Hinata develops a Bokuto sense 😅 not unlike Akaashi's but Hinata is way less proficient at reading it

"Bokuto I'll help with spikes"- Iwaizumi says, trying to save this

"Yeah! I want you to teach me that wicked cut shot you did last week!"- Hinata

Bokuto 👉🏻☹️🥺 ok 😔

Now, you've gotten a little use to Bokutos Emo modes, having seen one happen the week prior

However seeing Bokuto sad still hurt your feelings

"Come on YN! Let's go!"- Atsumu and Kageyama yell

"I'll be right there!"- You say running up to Bokuto, who is now standing in the center of the gym deflated

You literally run to him, and give him the biggest hug ever 🫂

You 👉🏻🥰 🫂

Bokuto 👉🏻☹️😐😳🥺 🫂

"I can help you with individual practice tonight Kotaro. How about that?"- You

Bokuto 👉🏻😳🤯 YN said my name 💀

"HEY HEY HEY!"- he shouts as he spins you around, you laugh and hug him back

Please Yn the team is so thankful for you

But honestly, you had no idea Bokutos love of you extended beyond that of friendship

The entire team could see it but you must have been completely clueless YN 😅

You actually become a topic in the locker room after practice 👀

"Bokuto! You need to stop hogging YN all the time!"- Atsumu yells

"I can't help that YN loves me more than they love you"- Bokuto 💅🏼

"No Bokuto, you just have a huge crush on YN and you only want them to help you"- Sakusa

"I DO NOT!"- Bokuto

"Do too"- Kageyama

"NAH UH!"- Bokuto

"Dude you are down so hard for YN!"- Hoshiumi

"Bokuto and YN, sitting in a tree!"- Atsumu

"K I S S I N G!"- Yaku, Hakuba and Hinata in tangent

Aram, Iwaizumi, Komori and Hyakuxawa are all like 😐🙄

I present Team Japan Men's Volleyball 👏🏻 👏🏻 👏🏻

"Why don't you just tell YN you like them?"- Ushijima 😐

"I CANT DO THAT WHAT IF YN DOESNT LIKE ME BACK"- Bokuto 🥺😭

Please for the love of God 🤦‍♀️

The next few weeks continue, much like they normally do

Bokuto occupies 99.99997% of your time in and out of practice

He's taken to making sure you get home ok, having coffee dates and even having dinner

However it's one night when you have a movie date that you "accidently" fall asleep on Bokuto

Please YN, he's dying 😫

He's taking all the pictures and sending them to everyone he knows

Team Japan ✔️ Akaashi ✔️ his doctor ✔️ some random person he barely knows ✔️ ✔️

Bokuto is so in love YN 🥰

And what he doesn't know is that you are falling for him too 😍

That's right, as annoying as he might be, he's freaking adorable and WE LOVE HIM!

However you don't know how to tell a giant owl man you care for him

Like you don't know his reaction so it could go one of a few ways

1) he could literally just due on the spot

2) he could scream

3) he would cry

4) he would break you and/or himself

Literally the possibilities are endless

However it's a good thing you don't have to worry about confessing 👀

Because you see, a certain someone has been noticing Bokuto's feelings towards you...

A certain tall haired rooster 😏

At a press even for the olympics, you are busy running around trying to keep all the boys on schedule

Thankfully Bokuto is busy with an interview right now so it's giving you time to catch up

"Hey Yn! How's our favorite manager doing?"- Kuroo says, he's evil smirk crossing his face

"Oh hi Kuroo! I'm doing great just waiting for the guys to finish up!"- You, our clueless angel 😇

"Say I was wondering, I wanted to talk with you about another opportunity after the olympics, maybe we could have dinner?"- Kuroo

Ok he definitely put you on the spot there

You rn 👉🏻😳😅 oh ummm-

Luckily or Unluckily (?), a certain someone just happened to overhear said conversation 👀

"KUROO!"- Bokuto shouts going next to you and pulling you behind him 😬

Possessive men am I right 😏

"What the heck do you think your doing with my YN?"- Bokuto

Wait a minute 😃

"I was just talking with YN about an opportunity for after the Olympics Bokuto"- Kuroo 😇

"Yeah well, stop!"- Bokuto

Kuroo 👉🏻 stop trying to advance YN's career 🤨

"That's not what I meant! You know I like YN so stay in your lane rooster head!"- Bokuto 😠

You 👉🏻👁👄👁 whet-

Kuroo 👉🏻😏😏😏

Bokuto 👉🏻😃 crap-

"Bokuto you like me?"- You

"Umm well- yes...."- Bokuto blushing and rubbing the back of his neck

You 👉🏻😐🥺 I like you too!

Please YN you literally give him the biggest hug and he all but dies on the spot 💀

We probably won't have to worry about emo mode for several weeks YN thank you for your service 🙏🏻

"You two crazy Kids!"- Kuroo says

Bokuto 👉🏻 😑 what did you want to talk to YN about?

"Well I wanted to see if YN would be interested in taking over an manager for MSBY but if they aren't interested..."

"YES OH MY GOD YN WILL DO IT!"- Bokuto screams

You 👉🏻 umm sure 😅

Please YN he's so happy right now 😭

Bokuto will parade you around to the team telling them how you returned his feelings

"YN LIKES ME ATSUMU SUCK IT"- Bokuto 😜

Atsumu 👉🏻😐🙄 whatever

Have we told you how thankful we are for you YN 🤣

[no-droids]

Ask Me Again Tomorrow

gif credit @pedros-pascal​

Part Sixteen of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 16.3K

Warnings: SMUTTTTT, following/stalking, some fluffy moments but mostly just a lil action and interaction, I don’t think there’s any other warning besides language and the smut (comm sex WITH A TWIST YALLLLL) but if you happen to find something else that warrants a tag, please let me know and I will do so accordingly!

A/N: The response to this story has grown beyond anything I could’ve ever imagined and I genuinely thank you all from the bottom of my heart for the privilege of writing for you.  Hope this one ends up being okay and I’ll get to work on the next chapter soon!

***

Headstart—12:17pm:

The sky is so pretty.  There isn’t much to look at on the surface—rolling hills and plains, grassy but with dry bare spots breaking up the green stretches, but the sky.  It’s an oil painting above you, pastel swishes of yellows and pinks and purples with an enormous ringed planet taking up half the horizon and another sizable moon hanging high.

You should probably be running.  Like, for real sprinting, but you can’t push yourself to go faster than a brisk walk.  It’s so… free out here, more hills springing up every time you get to the top of the next, warm air filling your lungs.  Even though you know realistically that the beginning will likely be the hardest—where you need to focus most on running and putting distance between you instead of hiding—truth be told, you’re not foreseeing making it more than a full day.  You’re going to try, obviously, but in the grand scheme, you wouldn’t be surprised in the least if he finds you tomorrow.  So, instead of wasting all your energy going as fast as you physically can right out of the gate, you just decide to stroll and think for a little bit.

You know what your goal is.  Obviously, to last as long as you can, but more specifically… well, if Din is going to chase after you, then he’s going to try to think like you.  Anticipate your movements, if he can’t already see the tracks you leave plain as day.  Very soon, he’ll be walking this same exact pathing, following the footprints you’re leaving behind, but if you’re ever able to shake him or throw him off course, he doesn’t have a tracking fob.  He doesn’t have any mechanical device that points him in your direction—if you can lose him with the footprints, then he’ll have to rely solely on predicting you. Which means you need to think… exactly the opposite of yourself if you want to outsmart him.

That’s harder than it sounds though, because… is he going to predict you predicting him?  At what point does it stop?  You somehow have trouble seeing this as an advantage the way he said it would be—you almost wish you had someone else chasing you, someone you didn’t know and someone who didn’t know you if only so this paradox could end before it begins.

You’re walking for about ten minutes before spotting a dirt road in the distance.  There’s a person following it in the direction of the sun—you don’t know this planet’s magnetic field but you do know it’s after noon and the sun would set on Arvala-7 in the west, so that’s what you’ll call it for now.  You call out to them as soon as you’re in range, and the stranger turns to you.

“Excuse me!”  It’s a woman, you see it as you get closer.  “I’m so sorry to bother you, but can you tell me where this road leads?”

She removes a sheer yellow shawl covering her dark hair and gives you a friendly smile.  “Hello,” the lady greets, before spinning around and pointing back the way she came.  “Osiruu is a few hours that way.  There’s not much there, but it will take you to G’ila, a transport hub with many opportunities for drifters, or Nariss, the capital.  I’m on my way to Shabeth,” she points in the other direction.  “It’s far—a day’s walk, but it’s a holy place and offers quite the view.  I would be glad for the company, but I understand its lack of practical appeal.”

So this place is safe enough to be inviting strangers along on your travels, noted.  You’re going to have to make the decision right now, then.  Which path should you take?

Something deep inside you tells you that you want to see this holy place, and just from a few sentences, you already like this woman and feel safe with her.  But then all of a sudden, you remember something.

Last known locations tell you a lot about a quarry, Din’s voice drifts back to you, sounding soft and distant from the dark forests of Naboo.  Smart ones go to populated planets, planets like Coruscant, planets that make it nearly impossible to find people.  Brave ones go to dangerous planets, suicidal ones try their luck in the Unknown Regions, idiots continue to go about their business on their homeworld without caring.  But planets like this—like Naboo… those are the pacifists.  The ones that don’t ever put up a fight.

You suppose you should decide what kind of quarry you want to be.  Friendly company and a view is something you normally crave—it’s something your soul speaks to after going without it for so long during your previous life.  You never pictured yourself as the fighting type.  When Din first asked you, you told him you wouldn’t run from him if he was chasing you, and choosing to accompany this kind stranger to her destination is essentially just that.  Sacrificing a chase for a pretty view.

“Does Shabeth have a sizable population?”  You ask her, and she shakes her head.

“It’s the sight of an annual pilgrimage that happens in a few months, but it’s beautiful there and I like to go whenever I can,” she tells you with a soft smile.  “But there’s nothing for miles outside it, I’m afraid.”

Your footprints will lead directly there.  He’ll find you easily.

“It sounds very nice, but I need to find somewhere with a lot of people,” you give her an apologetic smile.  Truly, you think she would’ve made for a nice friend.  “Thank you for your help, though, and good luck with your journey!  I hope we meet again.”

“Do you need any food or supplies?”  She asks you, and you stop short of passing her by.  “I don’t have much with me, but know what it’s like to be a newcomer to Sanctuary II.  I’d be glad to help.”

Good Maker, is this how everybody is here or did you just hit the jackpot with this lady?  She seems like… you, almost.  Her voice is gentle, she looks like she’d give nice hugs.  You’re about to politely turn her down, but then you realize the brilliant opportunity that’s presented itself in her image.

“Actually, this might sound like a really strange question, but…” you tell her, before looking down at her feet.  “Wanna trade shoes with me?”

***

Headstart—6:12pm:

You don’t think it’ll work, but as you walk into a small settlement a few hours later in a unfamiliar and worn pair of sandals, you decide that you’ll need to do this as often as possible.  You can’t come up with anything else that’ll throw him off your physical trail besides constantly switching shoes—is that bad?  Are you just an idiot with no hope?  You’ve had—you check your watch—like, five hours to think of a game plan, and all you’ve come up with is shoes?  You’re screwed.

At least there’s food here.  Plenty.  There’s vendors stationed along the street, multiple people passing by and going about their business.  Osiruu, that nice woman said—not much here, but you think she was wrong.  There’s children giggling and jumping rope on the corner, a shopkeeper sweeping her storefront, a graying man with an empty cup plucking an unfamiliar melody on an unfamiliar instrument—and while your tummy growls and you know you should quickly buy supplies and be on your way, you still stop for just a few minutes to listen.

It’s a lovely tune.  You drop a few credits in his cup after he finishes and find yourself humming it as you look at the plethora of goods being offered by the vendors.  Water, food—you buy enough of everything to sustain you for at least a couple days, not wanting to go hungry but also feeling realistic over optimistic.  The cuisine is foreign and you just point to things that look appetizing since you’re not sure about the name or pronunciation, but after paying and taking a bite into a rather large piece of purple fruit, your eyes nearly cross at how sweet and tasty it is.  Holy Maker, that might just be the best thing you’ve ever tasted.  You ask for two more after you finish the first, tucking one in your backpack next to your blaster and munching on the other as you keep browsing.

Suddenly you see shoes—yes.  Fucking shoes, your salvation.  You take a good look at all your options, of which, there aren’t many.  Generic men's, women's, and children's, all in the same color and design.  It’s good in a way—you see most people walking around in the same type of clothing here and you pray there’s not a way for him to track your gait or the whole thing is a bust, but truthfully, what you’re most worried about is the fact that you’ll create a brand new set of footprints wherever your old ones disappear.  Unless you trade with someone else, you won’t ever have a back pathing, you know that Din will probably be able to easily spot it.

“Three pairs of these, please,” you point to the correct shoes and tell him your size, but then—“Oh wait, actually, can I actually have one of them that’s the next size up?  And another that’s the same but in men's?”

The man behind the counter gives you an odd look but acquiesces, measuring the size of your preferred pair to multiple men’s shoes to find one that looks roughly the same—you doubt he’s ever had a request like this, but you’re also a generous tipper.  His smile is grateful when you tell him to keep the change and then you’re stuffing the new shoes into your backpack and moving onward.

Would there be some kind of map here, you wonder?  One that shows distance so you won’t waste time trying to reach a place you won’t be able to walk to?  That lady said a transport hub and the capital are through this settlement, but she didn’t provide much information beyond that.  You don’t want to be in the middle of nowhere when he finally catches up to you, you’ll need some place to hide.

When you stop to ask an elderly gentleman as he passes by, he freely provides you a basic gist.  There’s a large forest beyond Osiruu—after it will be a road that passes through a few notable places, with a town called Sijua to the west that leads north to G’ila, and Devain to the east that leads northeast to Nariss.  Both are within walking distance, though it may take a couple days to reach your destination.

Alright then.  Through the forest, you suppose.  You probably should’ve asked which way is east, but he’s already leaving and you don’t have the nerve to ask him to stop again.  You have a finger point, that’s all you need.  Making sure to use one of the small restrooms near the square before heading out, you eventually decide to make your way towards the direction he said this forest would be.

***

Headstart—6:58pm:

A bus.

You’re not going to take it, of course, but it’s the perfect solution to the problem you’ve been mulling over.  It’s at the very edge of the small settlement, and you quickly speed up into a half-jog as soon as you hear its engine running.

“Last call for the seven o’clock!”  A large man stationed near the doors yells as you approach.  “Last bus to G’ila until tomorrow!”

The sun is setting and you have to extend your hand out in front of you to not be blinded by it.  “Hello,” you give him a smile, before grabbing one of the handles on the side and stepping up onto the metal platform.

“Ah!”  The man quickly stops you, moving to stand in front of the open doors.  He’s as wide as he is tall, big enough that he blocks the entire exit.  “That’ll be ten credits, miss.”

“Oh,” you say, patting your empty pockets and pulling your eyebrows inwards, trying not to move too much in case the sizable amount of credits you have stashed in your backpack happen to rattle.  “Oh, no.  I think I lost my wallet.”

He sighs.  “Off the bus then please, miss.  Come back tomorrow if you find it.”

You nod, leaning your forearm against the paneling and beginning to take your shoes off.  “Will it be parked in the same place exactly?”

The driver looks curiously at you, clearly confused at both the strange question and your strange actions.  “I’m sorry?  Please—off the bus.”

“One second,” you tell him, now barefoot on the platform and digging into your backpack for the slightly larger sized shoes you bought earlier.  The sound of credits clink against your blaster, but you hope he takes your lead in purposefully ignoring them.  “Does the bus to G’ila park in this spot every single day?”

“Yes,” the man tells you impatiently, eyeing the way you’re stepping into the new pair with a subtle look of distaste.  Everyone is polite here, it seems.  “It will arrive back at seven am sharp with passengers from G’ila, in the same exact place.  Please get off the bus.”

“Thank you, sir,” you tell him with a smile, watching him step to the side to allow you to drop down into the dirt again and continue on your way.

Brilliant, if you do say so your fucking self.  Eliminate the need for a back pathing.  All footprints facing this direction are going to be the first footprints, and all of them facing the opposite way are going to be the last; if Din manages to figure out you didn’t take the bus, then he won’t be able to tell which new set are yours and which belong to the other passengers.  You pray the helmet can’t track gaits, but while you’re still paying enough attention, you make sure to keep your steps just slightly longer and even try placing more weight on the edges of your feet to make it look like you have a slightly higher arch than you actually do.  You’d put a pebble inside of them or something, but you know you’re going to be walking through the night and you don’t want to commit to having your feet hurt more than you already know they’re going to.

Eventually the quaint shops and small houses disappear behind you, and the sun setting over the horizon turns the clouds above turn more dusty green and brown than yellow and pink.  You hope Din opened up the ramp after you left.  You want him to see the sky.

***

Headstart—9:34pm

The forest here is different from Naboo, too.

Maybe it was because you only saw it while you were in crisis-mode, but that forest seemed much scarier and darker than this one.  The vegetation there was thick and overgrowing, but these trees look like they’ve never had leaves on them at all.  No twigs or small branches that sprout from the trunks—the branches are all thick and gnarly, criss-crossing with each other with how close they’ve grown together.  You bet their roots are practically one at this point, stretching for miles and miles but all sharing the same system.

Because there aren’t any leaves, there's nothing to block the moonlight shining clear and crystalline through the twisting maze of branches.  Sanctuary II appears to have a sister moon—Sanctuary I, perhaps?—that’s likely a similar size, because it’s the same one you've seen all day and it’s barely moved a few degrees that you can tell.  It must orbit incredibly close and be tidal-locked with this one then.  Two massive satellites swinging around each other as they circle a ringed gas giant, but it makes a stunning view and reflects more than enough light to see.

The sky is deep blue and maroon and you’ve been walking in a straight line for hours, using the stationary moon overhead as your guide.  The only issue with this plan that you’ve been able to come up with is that there’s no widely traveled path through the trees—even you can see your footprints and the clear trail you’re leaving behind.  You’ve been trying for a while to figure out another clever evasion tactic, but it’s harder than it sounds.  Can’t just change shoes again, that’ll be a dead giveaway.  How do you lose him?

You stop for a second, reaching into your bag to grab some water and stay hydrated.  Looking up once more at the beauty of the swirling colors peeking through the branches above you, you find yourself pausing after returning the bottle to your pack.  There are… an atrocious number of branches up there, and all of them are long and tangled and thick.  Sturdy.

You’ve… never climbed a tree before.

Without thinking much beyond that, you decide to bend your knees and jump, grabbing hold of one of the strong wooden tubes over your head and then swinging your legs up.  Ouch—the bark scrapes against your palms and you have to hold on tight with your thighs while you shimmy yourself upwards, but at least the wood is solid as fuck.  It takes you a minute or two, but you’re eventually able to shuffle yourself around so you’re straddling the thick branch, and then you look out to see the large collection of them criss-crossing in every direction around you.

Oof, this is dangerous.  You know it even before you start.  The gaps leading to the ground are bigger and more numerous than your potential pathing forward, but the only thing that gives you reassurance is how thick the wood is—you’re almost certain the branches aren’t going to break as long as you’re careful.

Okay.  Shoes, these are too big for the kind of dexterity you’re going to need.  You take them off slowly, being extra careful not to drop them, and then exchange them with the better-fitting pair you bought earlier, making a mental note that the sandals and the larger shoes are the two you’ve already worn.  If your pursuer manages to catch on to the multiple footprint changes, your most recent ones should ideally just… disappear right there, shouldn’t they?

You grin, before struggling into a low crouch and looking around your wooden cage for a safe way forwards.

***

Headstart—11:37pm:

Water.

A blessing, and not because you’re thirsty.  You have clean water in your bag and decades of habits formed in the desert to ensure you’re taking breaks and drinking enough—what you need is a way to disguise your footprints once you get back on the ground again.  This was good; scuttling your way along thick and twisting branches for as long as you have was time-consuming and exhausting, but it allowed you to avoid touching the ground for at least a mile or so, which means he’ll have to comb that entire radius to look for your drop.

And it was fun.

You even found yourself giggling as you ducked and scooted, ignoring the bark scraping your skin and your panting breaths, the way your face got sweaty and hot.  You had to do some brave maneuvers at tricky spots—jumping, balancing, hugging—but it almost just felt like an exciting little obstacle course for you and you’re honestly having a fucking blast right now.

Water, though.  Water is an unexpected beauty, even more than you’ve always considered it to be.  Water is an eroder.  Not only powerful enough to smooth down the rough edges of strong elements over time, but it will hide your footprints as soon as you create them and leave no indication that you were ever there.

Eventually you see it—a babbling stream cutting a considerably wide line through the trees.  You creep forward and hang tight to a branch above you to make sure you won’t fall, wiping the sweat on your brow with your other hand as you study the terrain.  The water is… a considerable distance below you, maybe about ten or so feet, and there’s quite a few branches on either side that extend and hang out over it.  You could probably find your way to the other side somehow, but something tells you to avoid the road beyond the forest if you can.  It leads to multiple places, it would be better to follow the stream until you can eventually merge with it later.

That means you’re… fuck.  You’re going to have to jump, aren’t you?

It’s the only way—you can’t leave footprints which means you’re going to need to land in the water.  The trees clear too far from the shoreline, so you can’t shimmy down the trunk of one for a shorter fall.  You’re going to have to climb out on one of those long branches until you’re suspended over the stream, and then you’re going to have to lower yourself as far as you can and then let go.  With your height already accounting for at least half the distance plus the length of your arms as you hang, you should only have to drop two or three feet before reaching water, and then maybe another two feet to the floor under it.  It looks forgiving enough—the moonlight shines and the stream is clear and you can mainly just see sand at the bottom, no sharp rocks or other potential dangers to be found.  This… this is doable.

Okay.  If you pull this off, you’re a badass.  If you don’t break any bones or seriously injure yourself in any way, you deserve some kind of commendation.  This is probably kiddie shit to Din, who keeps literal rockets strapped to his back and jumps out of ships flying thousands of feet above the ground, but this is a challenge for you and you’re feeling just excited enough to be up to it.

You’re eventually able to climb onto the thickest, sturdiest branch you can see that happens to hang over the water, straddling it and beginning to scoot.  Your thighs are killing you at this point but you’re holding deathly tight to the wood, your movements becoming more and more cautious the further away from the trunk you get.

You’re directly above the water now, but you need to go out a little further.  Aim for right in the middle so you don’t accidentally leave any tracks or prints on the shoreline if you need to catch yourself.  The unfamiliar wood in this forest is admittedly sturdy, but the branch begins to subtly sag with your weight as you keep slowly scooting forward, and you’re just about to the correct spot when—

Day 1–12:00am:

“Sweet girl.”

—You nearly fucking fall.

“Maker,” you gasp, suddenly scrambling to catch yourself on the branch before you can plummet.  It creaks and groans under your weight but supports you nonetheless, and when you’re one hundred percent certain it isn’t going to break, you jerk your head down to the communicator and see that it’s midnight, on the dot.

Shit.

Your heart slams against your ribs and your arms shake with adrenaline while you study it for just a moment longer, trying to calm the fuck down.

“Hey,” Din’s voice comes sharply from your wrist, crackling and tinny through the comm, nearly scaring you again.  “Answer me.”

You don’t want to sacrifice your grip right now, but you have no doubt he’ll fly the Crest out to you if you don’t respond.  So you quickly let go to press a button on the front face and then latch onto the branch tight once more, raising your voice because you can’t risk bringing your wrist up to your mouth to speak.  You hope he’ll be able to hear without the microphone picking up the sound of the stream below.  “Uh.  Ahem.  Hello.  Yes?”

“You’re too quiet,” Din’s disembodied voice immediately informs you.  “Or something on your side is too loud.  There’s an earpiece built into the side of the communicator, take it out and use it instead.”

You study the wrist brace without moving, until you finally see what he’s talking about.  It’s a small, wireless piece of machinery hidden on the left side of the electronic display, and you quickly pop it out and stuff it into your ear just in time to hear the sound of hydraulics clanging through the speaker as you clutch the branch again.  You’d know that sound anywhere, it’s the ramp of the hull closing.

“Are you already on the move?”  You ask him incredulously, your thighs starting to go numb with how deathly tight you’ve been squeezing this tree.

“Can’t sleep,” Din murmurs, sounding so much closer and deeper than before.  Does he have his earpiece on under the helmet or something?  Stars, is that why his voice sounds that good?  It’s like it’s coming from inside your own head, bassy and rough.  “Ready or not.”

You huff, your tummy going warm.  Of course he can’t sleep, of course he’s going to look for you as soon as he’s allowed to.  If he waited until morning, you’d probably be slightly offended.  You try to slow your heart rate into something acceptable, but being this far above water and hearing his baritone murmur directly in your ear make it difficult.  “But I’m… sleepy.”

“You’re always sleepy,” he tells you, and though you can’t actually hear him walking, the sound of his footsteps shake through his voice just slightly as he speaks.

“Hang on,” you huff, ducking your head to drag it against your shoulder, keeping the sweat from your eyes without using your hands, “you’re gonna make me stay up all night just because you do?  This isn’t fair—”

“Fair wasn’t part of the rules.”

Well.  Fair.

Stars, you can’t stay here.  You don’t know how long he wants to check-in for, but you’re also not confident with this branch’s ability to hold you for an extended time when you’re this far out from the trunk.  You need to get in that stream one way or another, but now that he’s here, you have an extra problem.  Din is going to hear you no matter what.

“Um.  Can you give me a second?”  You ask him, glancing around to make sure there’s no better way of doing this.  Nope, you realize very quickly—this is the best idea you’ve got, and you don’t really know what that says about the quality of all your other ideas.

“What?”  Din grunts shortly, but you just clear your throat.

“I need to… mute myself.  Give me like… five minutes.”

“What are you talking abou—”

“You of all people cannot be upset about asking for five minutes of quiet,” you return testily, looking down at the distance to the stream once more.  That’s a long way.  You… you can’t swim obviously, but again, the water doesn’t look too deep.  Just a couple feet likely, shouldn’t go past your knees.

It’s fitting that he doesn’t say anything, which you eventually take as disgruntled acceptance, so you quickly press the proper button on your wrist to silence the mic and then take a few deep breaths.  You have a time limit now, you have to do this.

With incredible patience and precision, you eventually slide until you’re clutching the branch upside down like an only slightly quicker and less coordinated sloth, before slowly dropping your legs and hanging over the water.

It’s… admittedly a bit further down than you anticipated, or maybe that’s just you making things worse than they actually are, but you’re committed at this point and there’s no going back.

You close your eyes, count to three, and then you let go.

The sandy floor meets your feet with considerable force and you make a hell of a splash doing it, nearly falling but just barely managing to keep yourself balanced and upright at the last second.  The water is cool and comes up just over your knees, your backpack miraculously didn’t get wet and all your limbs remain shaky but unbroken.

Okay.  Okay, fucking success.  It feels… thrilling, accomplishing a dangerous feat, and you quickly let out a loud whoop before clearing your throat, trying to sound normal as you press a button on the communicator’s face once more.

“Mando?”  You ask, slightly out of breath.  “Sorry about that, I’m back.”

Okay, now which way do you go?  Downstream seems like the easier path after getting in so much unexpected exercise, so that’s the one you go with.  As soon as you lift your foot from the sand bed, you watch your footprint almost immediately disappear through the moonlit water, and you bite your lip at just how well everything turned out for you.

After a moment though, you realize he hasn’t answered you.  You look down at the communicator again to make sure you pressed the right thing.  “Hello?  Shiny?”

“Did you trade shoes with someone?”  Din’s voice suddenly comes through the earpiece, sounding absolutely incredulous.

“Shit,” you tell him, trying not to smile.  “Hoped that was gonna buy me more time.”

“It… might’ve, if you kept walking in the same direction as they were,” he informs you after a moment.  “Your shoes went south, but this other pair got all the way out here just to turn back around again?  Good idea, but the execution needs work.”

Maker, he’s smart.  It was the first attempt at a footprint change so you weren’t thinking much beyond tricking the tracking mechanism in his helmet, you ignored his logic completely.  Essentially, the exact opposite of what he told you to do.  You like to think you’re getting better at it by this point, thinking beyond just the original exchange, and you’re hoping you’ll be able to trick him with at least one of the other fifty times you changed shoes today.  You’ll have to see tomorrow night, if you can make it that long.

Also, the road you were on apparently goes north-south, that’s important information you make sure to take note of.  The man in Osiruu said Devain and Nariss are to the east, and that Sijua and G’ila are westward, right?  Remembering that you thought south was west earlier, you do some quick calculating and immediately come to a stop in the moving water as soon as you figure out your positioning, turning around and walking upstream instead.

You want to go to Nariss.  The capital, and the biggest city in walking distance.  Smart quarry go to populated places, places that make it nearly impossible to find people.

“Alright.  Mando: one, Me: zero,” you finally acknowledge, swinging your backpack around and unzipping it to dig inside for another piece of fruit.  You’ve been hungry for hours but had to use both hands to stay safe and far above the ground, it’s the perfect time to eat.  “How’s the baby?  Behaving himself?”

“He kept trying to follow you after you left,” comes Din’s response, and you stop with just your teeth piercing the flesh, wondering if you heard him right.  You actually open your jaw and pull the fruit away with just a bite mark in it.

“You’re joking.”  No fucking way, not that little demon.

“Wish I was,” he tells you solemnly.  “Made a fuss, tried to open the ramp a few times.  Didn’t cause any trouble after, just… pouted.”

That’s… that’s exactly how he responded the very first time Din left the kid on the ship with you instead of bringing him along.  He threw a fit, tried to ditch you for his dad multiple times, and then ultimately just looked cute and mopey with his limp ears until Din came back.  Do you think it’s just him rebelling against change?  That has to be it, right?

“He better not be giving you any hints about where I am,” you warn his father.  “I’d tell you to put him on but I don’t want the earpiece getting lost forever.”

You hear it.  The softest laugh—barely a breath, coming after years of learning to make it just quiet enough not to be registered by the helmet.  It gets picked up by the communicator in all its understated beauty when normally it’d be silent, and it’s just jarring enough to make you careless.

On your next step, you accidentally lift your foot too high and make a splash, and you already know you fucked up before he can say a single word.

“What’s that sound?”

You immediately stop moving, allowing the cool water to move as silently as possible past your stationary knees.  Shit.  “Uh.  What sound?”

You think he purposefully doesn’t say anything.  Probably because it feels a little like cheating, doesn’t it?  It’s to your disadvantage, having him be able to catch hints from your environment when he’s the one who made check-ins mandatory, but then again… how smart do you think he is?  Something tells you that he might not need to track you at all—what are the chances he stumbles upon this little stream and just naturally assumes you were clever enough to use it to hide your trail?  Did you waste time trying to engineer a vanishing act when it’s not going to matter regardless?

Oh well, too late now.  You quickly decide to change the subject.

“You should try the big purple fruit that one vendor sells when you get into Osiruu, by the way,” you tell him pleasantly, taking a big chomp out of it and then letting out an extended hum of delight that only really fucking good food or sex causes a person to make.  “I’m eating one right now, it’s so good.  Be the best thing you’ve ever tasted.”

“Mm.  Doubt it,”  immediately comes his low response.  Fucking immediately.

“Mando,” you gasp, scandalized and giddy enough that juice dribbles down your chin a bit.

“Are you having fun?”  Din asks, instead of pushing the conversation any further in that direction.  You don’t know if you’re thankful or disappointed with how quickly he decided to abort, but you take a moment to consider his question while swallowing and wiping your mouth.  Not the answer, you know the answer—but why he bothered to ask.  Did he know you were going to enjoy yourself as much as you have?  Your only possible lament is how you’re talking to him through a communicator instead of having him next to you.

“I am,” you say warmly.  “Be… be better if you were here, though.”

“Give me your coordinates,” Din proposes, and his voice is just low and rumbly enough to make you pause.

You’re really, really proud of yourself for only considering it for a few seconds before scoffing.  “Psh.  Nice try.”

“Was worth a shot,” he sighs through the earpiece, and you smile, taking another bite of fruit.

“Ask me again tomorrow,” you offer, grinning at the implication.

“We’ll see,” you hear him return, and though his tone doesn’t really change, you know he’s probably rolling his eyes.  He won’t have to ask for your coordinates because he’ll already be there, but it’s nice to pretend for a while longer.

And then you both walk all through the night, sharing casual banter with each other for hours.  He never once implies he wants to disconnect, even when you hit him with more nonsensical questions—

“What’s your favorite food?”  (“I don’t have one.”)

“Okay, well what about just a food that you like?”  (“I don’t like food that much.”)

“What do you mean?  Everyone loves food.”  (“Not me.”)

“Alright, well um.  What’s your favorite color, then?”  (“I don’t have one, either.”)

“Come on, you must have some kind of color you like.”  (“What’s your favorite color?”)

“…Brown.”  (“Then that’s my favorite, too.”)

—until the sun rises and you both say your goodbyes.

***

Day 1–6:15am:

You resolve to waiting until you see another person to allow your feet to touch dry land, figuring the longer you stay untraceable, the better off you’ll be.  Your toes are wrinkly and your pantlegs and shoes have been drenched for hours, but then you finally spot a few fishermen standing upstream with their backs to you, speaking to each other in the dawning light.  Two look to be full-grown, but there’s a smaller one in the middle, maybe a teenage boy, and you pause for a second, looking at the riverbank next to them.  All their valuables—water, food, bait, extra rods, but also… their shoes.

Quietly, you reach into your backpack and remove the pair of men’s shoes you bought earlier.  The ones closest to you on the shore seem to be the smallest, so you sneak over as silent as possible and rapidly make an exchange, fitting the new ones on your wet feet before allowing yourself to touch dry land and then speed walking away.

The ones you left him are newer and roughly the same size anyways—yikes, maybe slightly smaller now that you’re thinking about it—but at least you have a back pathing.  If that kid decides to take your offering and the shoes fit, Din will follow him, and if he decides to go barefoot instead, he should still follow him, right?  You’re not really aiming to trick him outright, mostly you just want him to waste more and more time.  This likely wouldn’t work if there wasn’t a time limit attached to this hunt, but you’re going to do everything you can to disappear while he’s still far enough behind you.

***

Day 1–7:06am:

You get to Devain remarkably quickly after finding the correct road.  The pit stop is much bigger than Osiruu, big enough to call an actual town instead of just a settlement, but still not large enough to feel concealed.  You want a city.  This place at least has cars and ships moving about and overhead respectively, but you’re looking for somewhere with lines.  Somewhere that feels as cramped and busy as possible.

Still, you find a restroom to use and then decide to grab some more food for your trip, happily spotting your new favorite purple fruit in one of the shop windows.  As you’re reaching out to hand the storekeeper the appropriate amount of credits, Din’s gruff voice comes through the earpiece so suddenly that you jump, nearly dropping them all on the counter.  “Hey.”

“Holy shit, what?”  You gasp, earning a confused look from the lady in front of you.  You quickly shake your head at her and mouth an apology while Din grumbles in vexation.

“You were supposed to stay on foot.”

Ah.  So he got to the bus, then.  Okay.

“Oh,” you answer ambiguously, exchanging the money for your bag of food and giving her a polite smile.  Din stays completely mute while you grab your snack, stuffing the rest of the goods in your backpack and then turning to leave—mute for so long that you have to double check you didn’t accidentally do it yourself.

“…Smart girl,” you finally hear him say.  Quietly muttered under his breath, half proud of you and half frustrated for making his job more difficult.  “Which one of these is yours then?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you announce, before taking a large bite as you leave the establishment and talking with your mouth full.  “You really gotta try the purple fruit, it’s great.”

The communicator abruptly clicks to silence on his end without anything else and you laugh so unexpectedly that a few pieces of it fly out of your mouth.

***

Day 1–1:32pm:

Somewhere miles away from you, Din jerks to a halt in the middle of a forest.

He looks around the dirt floor, walks a few paces and hears the kid coo gently from his cradle.  Behind the visor, the red footprints he’s circling are the last ones around for hundreds of meters, as far as his display can read.

His helmet slowly tilts upwards, and follows the endless maze of thick branches overhead.

With the beskar hiding his face, no one can see the way he slowly breaks into a beautiful grin.

***

Day 1–9:51pm:

Oh.  Oh stars, you’re tired.

You’ve been walking all day without really seeing anything, not having any place to disguise your tracks in the wide open plains.  You could’ve stuck to the road, but you started to feel the exhaustion creep in during the early afternoon and you wanted to be far away from other travelers and potential danger if you needed to rest.  You knew this would be a long journey when you left Devain earlier—over a day’s walk, a group of children told you—you even tried skipping or jogging a bit to see if that would inspire more energy in you, but it didn’t help much.

The large cup of caf you bought while in town was drained hours ago and it didn’t help much either, probably because your exhaustion is more physical and not necessarily mental.  It just felt like a sweet warm drink to sip before you go to sleep, that’s how much the caf helped.  Still, you kept walking, kept moving forward even as you squinted in the setting sun, your feet aching from traveling for this long wearing unfamiliar shoes.  The last time you changed them was hours ago, pulling another bus maneuver but with an air shuttle instead.  Still, you don’t think it’ll be enough.  You don’t even know where Din is but you already feel like you’re losing ground just knowing that he’s the one in pursuit.

You feel it—the hair standing up on your neck, the tingles in your hands, the stirring of your tummy—whatever the incessant gogogo that your instincts happen to scream when you’re in first place but you know the person behind you is quickly closing in.  It’s day fucking one, it’s day one and you feel him in the wind as it brushes through your hair, you can’t even pause to rest because nobody knows better than you that he’s an absolute fucking machine when he wants to be.  The kid may have powers beyond that which can be explained by the laws of nature, but Din is a force all his own.  He drives you forward when everything inside you is telling you to stop.  He keeps you awake and determined when you just desperately need to rest.

But that only goes so far.  You’re bordering on two full days without sleep, and though you’d normally be able to suffer through, the constant movement is just brutal after being confined to a stationary ship for so long.

There’s a lone tree in the distance, you think.  It’s hard to see.  Not because it’s dark—well it is, just a bit darker tonight compared to last, but mostly because your eyelids have grown heavier and more burdensome than the bag around your shoulders.  That looks like a good place to just sit for a second, right?  Maybe eat some more food, try and wake yourself up?  Yeah, that’s a good idea, you’ll head towards the tree and just… sit…

***

Day 2–12:00am:

Completely dead to the galaxy and sitting on your ass with your back against rough bark, the comm clicks and Din’s voice comes through the earpiece.

“Wake up.”

It startles you enough to make you lurch forward and jerk your head around in a panic, looking for any flash of beskar so you can instantly break opposite to it.  You scramble on all fours to look around but you don’t see anything, not even behind the trunk when you crawl, and then you take a deep breath and use the bone of your wrists to rub your eyes vigorously after a moment, knowing your hands are filthy.  “Fuck, how’d you—”

“You’re always sleepy,” Din repeats, and you collapse back into the tree with an exhausted groan, not entertained but not even having the energy to get mad about it.

“I… I gotta sleep,” you tell him, already feeling your body let go of its tension and search for the darkness of unconsciousness once more.  “Shit.  How d’you… mm.  Stay awake all the time…”

“Sleep,” Din encourages, you can still hear him walking.  “You need rest.  I’ll see you soon.”

No—

“No,” you whine like a child, moaning and shoving yourself upright.  Maker, you’re trying to focus, but asking that of yourself is almost impossible right now.  Everything swims—you were dreaming, you think, but you can’t remember and it’s not important other than to emphasize how woozy you are.  Things still feel like a dream, somehow.

You think he can hear your struggling through the comm, because the sound of his footsteps pause.  “Go to sleep.”

“You go to sleep,” you tell him bluntly, giving your head a violent shake to try and wake you up.  You want to slap your own cheek but you don’t want him to hear it.  “I can’t sleep if you don’t.”

“I’ve have at least a couple more days in me before that happens,” Din murmurs, and you bet he knows exactly what the fuck he’s doing to you.  You start to slouch, hearing the voice he uses when he’s curled around your body in the darkness of the hull.  So warm, so gentle.  If you use your imagination, you can feel his fingers drawing slow circles on your back, the vibration of his low voice rumbling against your ear as you lay your head on his chest.  “If I hunt you the way I’d hunt a quarry, I’m going to find you before you wake up.”

“Then I’ll jus’ have to… not let tha’ happen,” you slur.  Even this close to unconsciousness, you try your best to throw in a misdirect.  “Already… paid for the bed an’ everything.”

“Sure you did.  You in another tree?”

You immediately frown even as your eyes drop closed, too tired to fight but still managing to sound upset.  “You makin’ fun of me?”  You ask him with a harumph.  Genuinely, you’re not smart enough to figure it out right now.

“Not hardly,” Din sighs, sounding… you don’t know.  Is that displeasure or not?  It’s not immediately clear.  Does it sound that way because you’re just dumb stupid right now?  Or because Din can’t actually decide how he feels about it?  “Lucky I heard water over the comm last night, I would’ve wasted hours in that forest.”

“Noooo,” you whine in response, trying to push yourself off the tree but tipping sideways in the process, “that’s not fair—”

“Fair wasn’t part of the rules,” he repeats himself again and… nope, you don’t even have the energy to snark something back.  You just grumble your best imitation of him while you do everything you can to heave yourself upright.  It’s pitiful, you lose your balance not even halfway through and just plop on the grass for a second and groan.

“Stop,” Din eventually orders through the earpiece, tired of it.  “What’s sixteen times itself?”

You’re loopy to the point where you don’t even question why he decided to ask you that.  You just furrow your brows for a second and try to think about it, before suddenly realizing you… don’t know, you can’t remember.  Multiplication tables and squares up to twenty are elementary to you, you know them by heart.  Sixteen times sixteen.  One forty-four.  No… no that doesn’t sound right, is that twelv—

You take way too long answering what would’ve been an immediate response two days ago.

“I’ll stop here for tonight,” Din tells you with a resolved sigh.  “I won’t move until you wake up.  Go to sleep.  You’re putting yourself in danger, you can’t even do the basics.”

Later, this moment will come back to you.  That problem isn’t basic, not many adults would be able to tell you very quickly that the answer is two fifty-six.  You don’t even think Din would.  You would, though.  On Naboo, you used rapidly applied trigonometry in your head to find his location, and that was barely two minutes after waking up.  You should know this.  And he knows you.

But for right now, you don’t pay it a single lick of attention.

“You promise?”  You ask quietly, voice incredibly small as your head tilts back towards the sky, already feeling yourself beginning to fall back into the darkness again.

“I promise,” he vows in return, gentle but a promise nonetheless.  He doesn’t have to do this.  You wouldn’t be able to keep going even if he didn’t offer up this temporary truce, but knowing he isn’t currently gaining ground on you makes the idea of sleep so much more welcoming, something you want to seek out instead of fight.

“Will you, um…” your expression furrows.  How do you say this?  You sigh, giving up before even trying to figure it out.  “I’m… not in a bed.  I’m outside.”

Din doesn’t say anything when you pause, and even through the haze wanting to take over, you know it’s going to sound needy.  You want him to stay.  Even in the midst of an adventure, you want him to stay, you want to hear him breathe as you rest, but there’s not really an integrous way to ask.

You don’t need to ask.

“I’ll keep the comm open and wake you when the sun rises,” comes his lulling baritone before you can elaborate anymore, enveloping you in comfort in this dreadfully uncomfortable bed of grass and dirt.  “Sleep, sweet girl.  I’m right here.”

***

Day 2–5:34am:

The sun shines over the hills and you lift your head up to squint your eyes at it, confused as fuck.  Looking down at your wrist to check the time in the warm rays, hands and clothes dirty from laying on the ground that long—you stay groggy and clueless for just a moment longer, before your heart lurches when you remember Din’s promise to you.

You open your mouth to address him but then catch yourself just in time.  Wait.  Don’t panic.  Listen.

Breathing.  Slow and relaxed through the earpiece, a rhythm now branded into your memory from months of nights spent in pitch black.  He’s… asleep.

Din is asleep?  Seriously?

You can count like… twice that this has happened, and one of those was because he got you to touch him just right after closing up a wound on his back, and his body couldn’t handle the strain and passed out.  You’re never awake when he’s asleep—you’re just not, it doesn’t happen.  Din… sleeps like it’s just a choice for him, he doesn’t ever really need it.  Almost like how he used to eat before he started sharing meals with you, he said he doesn’t even like food that much.  You think he just severed all of those things long ago, things that are basic fundamentals of survival and operated like a bounty droid that lost its voice box.  It’s… nice, feeling like you’re somehow giving back some of the things he lost.  Unintentionally encouraging him to find sleep again.  Making sure he eats more, listening to him speak.

You struggle to your feet as quietly as possible, hearing him continue to breathe slow and relaxed through the communicator.  This isn’t purposeful, you don’t think he actually allowed it.  He promised you, and Din doesn’t take shit back.  If he tells you he’ll do something and he doesn’t follow through, it’s either out of his control or a mistake, it’s never been purposeful.  He didn’t mean to fall asleep.

And, in other circumstances, you most definitely would not find some way to take advantage of this.  You’d let him sleep and do other things in the meantime—make some food for you and the kid, find something on the Crest that isn’t spotless and clean until it is, or just… lay there next to him until he woke up.  But… these circumstances are their own.  You have to capitalize now, this is your chance.  You passed out last night around… ten pm, you think it was, and then he promised to stop at midnight.  That means you have to walk at least two hours before he wakes up if you want to prevent any loss of ground—you don’t know where he stopped, he could be a few miles back even.

You have to find Nariss—you have to.  It’s your only option, if you keep trying to run, it’s just going to make it so much easier for him.  Now is the time to hide.  You know it hasn’t been long, it’s barely been two days since you first left the Crest but it feels like you’re already in endgame, already making moves in self-defense instead of actually planning your maneuvers ahead of time.

The capital should be half a day’s walk from here, then.  As long as you get there, you think you’ll be okay.

***

Day 2–8:28am:

Din’s groan suddenly comes through your ear.

You immediately stop, seeing a busy road in the distance and glad you haven’t quite made it there yet, before trying to disguise your voice as drowsy.  “Mm?”

“Shit,” he breathes, and you hear him get up, the sound of beskar moving as he grunts.

“Mpph,” you groan back, squinting your eyes to see if that’ll help sell the act.  “I thought you… Mando, fuck, y’said you’d wake me when the sun came up.”

“I… fell asleep,” he admits, voice rough with it, sounding just as confused as you felt earlier.

“You said you had days in you before that happened,” you murmur, taking a deep breath and stretching your arms up above your head.  Stars, your back hurts, how does he possibly manage to carry a fucking jet pack around all the time?

“Yeah, I…”  He pauses for a moment and you bite your lip, not liking the quiet as soon as you hear it.  “How long have you been up?”

Op.  Not good.  “Wha?”

He’s not falling for it.  “How long?”

How in Maker’s name?  This is impossible.  How can you hope to hide from him when you can’t even manage to hide the smallest fucking truth from him?  Can you salvage this somehow?  “…Like ten minutes.”

“Least a few hours, then,” he sighs, and you get ready to hit him with the same line he used when you complained about his leg-up, opening your mouth as soon as you hear him speak.  “That was smar—”

“Fair wasn’t part of—”

Oh.  Well.  Apparently you didn’t have a reason to feel shitty about deciding to haul ass while he was passed out even though you kind of ended up doing so anyways.  There was no agreement besides that he wouldn’t move until you woke up.  Reason is on your side, but it still feels a bit like you fucked him over.  Is that valid or are you just so used to being nice that putting yourself first feels like a wrong you’ve committed?

“Don’t feel bad,” Din tells you, and you hear a soft coo in the background.  It makes you smile the smallest bit, your shoulders relaxing even as they ache from carrying your pack around.  “You should feel bad about stealing that poor kid’s shoes, though.  He walked home barefoot.”

You smack your forehead.  “It was just….”

“Yeah,” he scoffs when you don’t finish your sentence, and you can’t keep back a giggle.  “Alright, I’m up now.  See you when you get here.”

And then the communicator clicks, and you’re…

Uh.  What the fuck was that?

No.  Nope, you’re not going to get played.  That was a brilliant attempt at fucking with you, but you’re not falling for it this time.  You’ve grown since that night on Canto Bight, you know him, he can’t just say shit to fuck with your head and then smile at your flailing response from under the helmet anymore.  You normally would stew in that last comment until it got to you, made you make a mistake most likely, but the more you think about it, the more certain you are that he has nothing.  He was just trying to see if you’ll abandon your entire plan just by implying he already knows it.  That’s beginner shit, you’re not falling for it.  Din wanted to leave the conversation with the upper-hand since you gained at least an hour of extra ground while he slept.  You’re certain of it.

***

Day 2–12:35pm:

Nariss is big.  Nowhere near the size of Coruscanti sectors of course, where billions of people are packed from surface to exosphere and require oxygen recirculation towers to breathe at the very top, but just slightly bigger than you expected.  It’s bustling and you haven’t even made it through the city gates yet—you’re approaching them and the large number of people waiting in line, seeing buildings stretch out for miles in front of you and grinning.  Yes, this will work nicely.

As you peek over shoulders in the sizable crowd, you see only two or three people allowing people to enter one at a time… is that a biometric scanner?

Oh.  That looks good and it also doesn’t look good at the same time.  If Din’s safety meant nothing to you, you’d have no trouble whatsoever getting in line and waiting to do a retinal scan, but you immediately pause and consider the potential consequences.

Your dumb ass almost weighs the option of clicking the communicator on and asking his opinion.  You’d give away your location in a heartbeat (if he doesn’t know it already) just because you’re worried he’d… what, exactly?  Stand in line for an hour, take his helmet off in front of a crowd of people, have the system ping his scan, and then hang out and wait for New Republic reinforcements to show?  You have to stop worrying about him.  He’s not a baby, he can handle himself and you need to stop considering the possibility of taking a loss just so he doesn’t have to, even if the self-destructive sentiment feels ingrained in your nature to do so.

So you wait in line, moving at a slow pace but at least moving.  While you’re standing there quietly, a man in front of you decides to strike up a conversation.  You don’t come from a place with an excess of people, but the ones in your sector were friendly and did this kind of thing often, so perhaps for that reason, you decide to chat.

“Do you have some place to stay?”  He asks at one point.  So far the conversation has revolved around him—every time he asks about you, you deflect.  He doesn’t need to know.  “Nariss isn’t kind to drifters.”

This catches your attention, though.  This is relevant.  “What does that mean?”

“It’s expensive?”  He scratches his blonde hair, giving you a soft smile.  “Food, housing, all of it is way out of my price-range.  I stay with my uncle and work overnights at the eastern docks.  It’s not much, but it’s enough to keep a roof over our heads.  We used to live in Gibrath, but then we moved to the city because he’s a good architect and they’re always expanding.  It’s nice, of course, but really expensive.”

He’s handsome, you think… in kind of a boyish, charming way.  Blonde hair, sparkly blue eyes.  He doesn’t look much older than you, and maybe in another lifetime you would’ve found him appealing, but… you like darker features, you think.  Someone a little less expressive.  This guy… talks a lot.

“I thought this moon was a safe world for people displaced by the Empire,” you offer, taking a step forward as the entire crowd shifts.

“Sanctuary II is,” he comments.  “The capital is safe, too—what, with all the orangies walking around,” he tilts his head to two jumpsuited guards trying to organize the glob of people so the line can move faster, rolling his eyes as if they’re some kind of joke.  “But not… welcoming, not if you’re looking for a place to settle.  You would’ve been better off in G’ila.”

“Is there anywhere you know that would take me for free?”  You ask.  You have quite a few credits left, but you don’t think it’s a good idea to stay in an inn.  It’ll be the first place Din checks.

“Are you a virgin?”  He returns, and you immediately pull back at the unexpected question, your heart thudding at the possibility of danger.  The man’s sandy eyebrows shoot up at your response and he quickly apologizes—“Heavens, I’m so sorry to ask like that!  It’s just… the only place I know is the Holy Keja Orphanage on the northern outskirts.  Their signs say they only house children and teenagers, but I’ve heard from other girls your age that they’ll accept any woman as long as they’ve stayed pure in the eyes of the Maker.”

“Oh,” you say after a moment, leaning sideways to see just a few people standing in front of him.  Good, this is almost over.  “Um.  Yep.  That’s me.”

He smiles at you once more, giving you a nod.  “When you get to the city, just go straight through.  It’s about a mile outside of the gates, no more than a day’s walk from this side of town.”

Okay, that’s… interesting.  You think about it while you thank him and begin to exchange polite goodbyes, moving up another step until he’s next in line.  That might actually be a good move.  Din could spend a long time in the city without ever finding you.  Smart quarry go to populated places, but… smarter quarry defy the expectations placed upon them, right?  He knows you’re smart, and even though you’re confident his “See you when you get here” was purely psychological fuckery, that also implies… at the very least, that he’s assuming there is a here to get to.  Meaning, he knows you’re not going into the wilderness to evade him.  He’s not going to comb the outskirts when there are so many places to hide within the city gates, with an entire perimeter of New Republic guards stationed around it.  Even if he does, the signs will say only children and teenagers—categories you do not fall into.

The unnamed man is soon ushered forward but you stop him quickly.  “Oh, by the way.  I doubt this will happen, but if a man in a big metal suit with a tiny green baby happen to ask you the same thing, please don’t tell him what you just told me.”

He furrows his eyebrows at you and cocks his head, but smiles and agrees nonetheless.

***

Day 2–5:43pm:

You have an idea.

You’ve been working on it all afternoon, but you were hit with it the second you were looking for another pair of shoes to buy and find a clever way of putting on.

The cheapest ones were ridiculously overpriced, blonde dude was right.  You blinked down at the tag and asked the salesman where the cheapest shoes in this part of town were, and then he just wrinkled his nose at you and shooed you out of the store.  Granted, you slept in dirt and spent two days walking—you bet you reek, but he didn’t have to be like that.

Though, the man’s displeasure with you had an upside.  You were holding a possible pair of pants and a shirt to buy when he threw you out, not yet having checked the atrocious pricetag on them, but it appeared as if he’d rather let you have them for free than rip them from your… admittedly, pretty filthy arms.  Oh well, you weren’t complaining.  Fancy clothes for free, score.

But now you’re here, and you have the best idea.  You don’t need to change shoes, not yet.  Why?  Because you’ve figured out how to turn your incessant detriment into an advantage.

You’re in the middle of downtown, you think, maybe just some random crowded square, and there’s an inn in front of you.  It’s fucking enormous, and you already know it’s gotta be incredibly expensive just looking at the sheer number of stories.  It’s an eyesore, it sticks out.  But that’s okay, because you’re only planning on staying for a night.

It’s also… right next to New Republic headquarters.  Or fuck, at least a station of some sort, because they’re swarming in and out of the constant crowd, passing by the valet doors.

At first you naturally wanted to steer away from the jumpsuits, since you know they’re bad news for Din, but then you remember what he said before you left.  I’m only telling you so that you’ll know your advantage and find a way to exploit it.  I can’t be seen by any officers, or they might arrest me.

It’s to your advantage, he said so himself.  Everything lines up perfectly—the street is bustling, the inn is well protected, it’s nice—it’s everything you’re looking for.

And there’s another upside, see.  An omnipresent, omniscient ghost in the form of a communicator clipped to your wrist right now.  If Din is always going to be able to predict you, he’s always going to know when you’re lying, always be able to read you… then you’ll just have to let him.

Let him know.  Let him know exactly where you are.  Right in the middle of the most populated street you’ve seen thus far, a constant barrage of people walking by and New Republic officers patrolling.  If you were planning on staying in the city, this would probably be your best option to hide.  He could waste days here if you’re smart about it.

The concierge doesn’t appear too pleased with your lack of cleanliness and neither do you, honestly, but at least he allows you to book a suite for the night.  It’s… not as bad as you were originally assuming, credits-wise, but it’s worth more than half your stash and you’re going to have to conserve from this point on.  It shouldn’t be too bad—your destination is a holy orphanage, you’re sure they’ll have some extra food and a bed for you even if it won’t be ideal.  Still, you think you’re going to enjoy some lavish experiences for once in your life before you go.

***

Day 2–11:54pm:

Alright, so this was the best idea ever.  This is the shit.

You’re leaning back against a fluffy stack of pillows, squeaky clean from an absolutely glorious bath and watching the flickering drama on the large holonet display in front of you.  You don’t have any idea what’s going on, as it’s being broadcast in Rodian, but you haven’t been able to change the frequency because it’s so fucking intense—somebody’s sister is their mother, you think?  No, that must be a mistranslation, right?

You’re also in a robe.  Yes, there is a motherfucking robe in here.  And… and slippers, it’s like a dream.  Do people normally wear slippers in bed?  You do.  Hell, maybe you should stay here, screw the credits and the chase.  This mattress is even better than the one on Naboo and you’re basking in the luxury after being outdoors for so long.

The lights are off other than that and you’ve opened the drapes wide, knowing you’re on something like the fifteenth floor and nobody would be able to see you anyways.  You just like being able to turn your head and look out at the sky.  Violent and periwinkle tonight.  You wonder if he’s looking, too.

Luckily, you snap yourself back out of it and glance down at the time on your communicator, quickly pressing a button on the remote to mute the Rodian show and then opening the line the moment the hour changes.

Day 3–12:00am:

“Hiya, Shiny,” you say before anything else, laying back and running a few fingers through your damp hair.  Your eyes close against the flickering light, taking a slow, relaxed breath.  Maker, this feels nice.

“You sound happy,” Din comments.  Astute, you feel happy.  Well… you’d obviously feel happier if he was here.  Your eyes flick over to the open bathroom door, still steamy from your bubble bath earlier, imagining him walking through it completely naked and then climbing over you on the covers.  You can only really picture it from the neck down—no, hang on… you can see his shaggy brown curls, that one spot on his forehead you know, how his facial hair would be dark and frame his mouth.  No face, though.  Missing just one fraction of him from your imagination, feeling incomplete but also somehow… complete in a way.

“I feel better after sleeping last night,” you tell him, purposefully leaving out the softness of the sheets underneath you, the sheer comfort of all this extravagance.  You don’t need it, you’ll never need it, but it feels nice to have for once.

“I do, too,” he replies quietly, and your eyes flutter closed.  You… miss him.  This mattress would feel softer with him next to you.  He’d probably be able to translate this show for you, even though you already know he’d fucking hate it.  You can imagine it—you with your eyes closed, him propped up on an elbow next to you and grumbling vague descriptions of the nonsense happening on screen just to hear your chuckles.  Adventures are great, but maybe they aren’t as great by yourself, you think.

“You should sleep tonight, too,” you encourage, but he scoffs.

“Not a chance,” Din mutters.  “Oh, before I forget, we need to charge the communicators today.”

“How am I supposed to do that?”  You ask him, glancing at all the multiple wireless charging outlets stationed around you.  “I’m in the middle of nowhere.”

He doesn’t even take a fucking second before responding.  “Good one.”

You grin up at the ceiling, warmth flooding you.  You love him.  Literally every single time, he just knows.  Your curiosity is too overwhelming after this happening so often.  Your plan to distract him relies on him being able to read you, but that doesn’t prevent you from wondering how he does it so accurately, time and time again.  “How do you know?”

“You slept outside last night,” he immediately tells you, like that should mean anything to you.

Does he… does he truly know you well enough to know how much your back and shoulders hurt today?  How much you were aching for a shower and clean clothes?  A bed to sleep on that isn’t dirt or metal?  You give into the accurate prediction with shameless honesty, not caring if he knows it’s the truth.

“This bed is soft,” you murmur gently, dragging your hand across the mattress next to you.  “You should be here.  I’d make you feel good.”

Admittedly, your comfort is making you a bit drowsy and you said it in the easiest way possible, but you didn’t necessarily mean it sexually.  Well… you sort of did—you’d make him feel so good in this bed—but what you meant was more… comforting.  He could take a bath, or a shower, and get all the grime off him.  He could feel clean and unburdened, take a break instead of constantly moving around.  The baby could have a whole bed to himself if he wanted, though you know he’d probably want to be on this one instead.  You could all look at the sky together.

Din is quiet for a little bit, before his voice comes back through the earpiece.  “Are you in an inn?”

“No,” you say, a little too quickly.  Perfect, that sounded just right for a lie.  You are lying, you absolutely are in an inn, the only difference is that you want him to catch on that it’s a lie, so… why does he take way too long before responding?

“Hm.”

What the fuck—why… how is it even physically possible?  He read you that deeply from one single word?  You’re not sure if he’s somehow psychic and figured the whole fucking thing out or if he just knows there’s something off, but it’s still enough to blow you away.

“Are you doing this on purpose?”  You blurt without thinking.

“Doing what?”  He grunts, sounding like he’s stepping over something, his breath changing intensity as he walks.

“If I look out this window right now, am I gonna see you standing out there just messing with me?”  You don’t even know what to believe anymore.  How do you beat this?  If you don’t want him to know the truth, he’ll figure it out, and if you do want him to know the truth, he’ll still figure it out.  His perception is unbelievable.

After a moment of silence, he murmurs gently through the comm.  “I thought you said you were in the middle of nowhere.”  It sounds like he’s smiling.

“I…”  your eyes shift around awkwardly, “am…”

Din lets out a deep sigh.  He’s right, that was bad, even for you.  “I found your bed a few hours ago,” he admits.  You close your eyes as you listen to him make his way closer to you, step by step.  “I’m nowhere near the city yet.  You have time to sleep.”

Your expression furrows and you frown.  “Why are you helping me?”

“Why do you want me to think you’re in an inn?”  He tosses back, and you huff.

“Because I’m trying to outsmart you but you make it really fucking difficult,” you grumble, not happy about him catching on so quick.

“You’ve also gained about four hours on me since we started.”  His voice is gruff.  You don’t know if he thinks it’s a good thing or a bad thing.  “You should give yourself more credit.  I thought I would’ve found you by now, never expected you to get all the way to Nariss.  It’s… not good for me.”

The honesty creeping in makes you go soft.  It makes you want to reciprocate, even if it’s dumb and you haven’t thought it all the way through.  “Wanna know a secret?”

“Tell me.”  His voice is a bed all its own, deep and gentle and safe.

You say it before you lose the nerve.  “I might just turn around and walk back.”

His footsteps stop and you hear a small sound in the background, a quiet little baby noise that suddenly makes your heart ache.  You’re comfortable but incredibly aware of how alone you are.  People pass by on the streets below, cars and hoverbikes honk in the distance and you’re by yourself.  For the first time in over a year, like you have been for years, you’re by yourself.

“Sweet girl,” Din sighs, and all of a sudden… you can feel his arms around you with it.  You feel so… known, somehow.  Every sentiment you could’ve possibly given in your last sentence, he relays his understanding back with his.  He makes you feel loved with it.  “Never wants to run.”

You don’t say anything, because you suddenly realize you’re totally fucking whipped, up down and sideways for his metal ass and the little floating grimlin that follows him around, and you would throw away the fifth quarry, adventure, the sky—literally everything if you could be with the both of them right now.

But again.  You don’t have to say anything, he already knows.  “Give me your coordinates.”

Your eyes pop open and you bite your lip.  Oh, stars.  You hate that you do genuinely consider it.  He could be here, and very soon.  With the jet pack, both of them could be here in less than an hour, probably.  He could take a shower.  Watch these stupid shows with you all night without needing to be on the move, help you build a bed of pillows for the kid on top of this one.  You could be with both of them again, even if it’s only for a little while.

“Ask me again tomorrow,” you finally whisper, looking down at the soft white fabric of your robe, the way one of your slippers is falling off your foot as the holonet program continues to play on mute.

Din’s footsteps eventually start up again, and you both relax in silence together.  You, squinting at the screen because your eyes are getting heavy; him, continuing to travel step by step and gain ground on you.  Let him come.  You’ll be long gone by the time he even makes it to the gates.

It’s been about ten minutes of shared, quiet existence before you hear him bite into something and chew, and your face suddenly lights up.

“Are you eating the purple fruit?”  You ask, your slipper falling off with excitement.  You don’t know why, but it’s like… you’re stoked for him.  Just as proud of him for doing normal things as he does when you step out of your own comfort zone.  You like to think you’re both better that way.  Balanced.

“Mm,” Din replies with his mouth full, and you grin down at your bare legs peeking through the robe while he swallows.

“Is it not the best thing you’ve ever tasted?”  Your voice goes a little breathless with it, and you hear his footsteps stop once more.

“Close,” Din murmurs lowly, sending a small shudder through you.  It suddenly feels a bit warm in here, doesn’t it?  This morning was one of the rare times you were awake while he was asleep… it’s almost always the other way around, and just from the implication in his tone, you’re reminded of the thing he likes doing most when you’re resting.  Maybe he’ll let you do it to him, next time around.  The thought gets you hot enough to warrant the other slipper falling to the floor.

“You’re alone, right?”  You whisper, knowing he must’ve pulled the helmet up to take a bite of the fruit.  He must still be following your path through the hillside, then, not yet reaching the road.

“The kid is awake,” Din tells you, sounding like he’s trying to stop everything before anything starts.  His words are short and clear in their meaning, but…

This has a very small chance of success, you already know.  “…Do you want to—”

“No,” he responds quickly, already way ahead of you.  “We can’t.”

Something in his voice… you don’t know, there’s just something there that makes you feel just a little reckless.  Should you push it?  You’re by yourself in this suite, what can go wrong?

“You can’t,” you correct him quietly, shifting around on the bed just a bit and biting your lip.  It’s a thrill—being able to tease him without having him in front of you, drive him crazy knowing you’re just out of his reach.  “But I can do whatever I want, can’t I?”

There’s a pause, a tense and knowing silence suspended between you before he eventually speaks.

“I’d be real careful,” Din mutters low in warning, but what is he gonna do?

“What are you gonna do?”  You whisper to him devilishly.  Quiet and breathy, beginning to snake your hand down.  Stars, your heart is already pounding.  You’d only likely mouth off like this in person just to see how hard he’d fuck you, but this feels extra dangerous for some reason.  He’s stuck, he can’t do anything about it right now, and you know it’s playing with fire.  “You could hang up if you don’t want to hear me.  Or you could find me before I’m finished.  Come make me stop.”

Din doesn’t say anything but he very much does not hang up, nor does he come busting into your room like you imagine he’d like to.  The sheer fact that your door is still closed and locked tells you for sure that he isn’t just hanging out in the hallway, just letting you have your fun.

You start pressing your fingers against your robe at the apex of your thighs, humming at how nice the pressure feels.  You don’t even spread your legs or push the fabric away, you just sigh into it and wiggle your hips a bit, pressing hard against your clit and listening to him breathe.

“Do you want to listen?”  You ask quietly after a moment, and Din still doesn’t respond.  Likely because there’s not a real answer, both yes and no would imply the wrong thing.  “I’ll talk.”

Still, nothing from him.  Dead silence through the comm.  You’re starting to understand.  For two days, you’ve felt like he could read your every thought just by the cadence of your voice.  He’s staying quiet so you can’t even attempt to do the same to him—if he doesn’t talk, you can’t find a weakness and pounce on it, you can’t feel any more confident or reassured about your own ability to read him.

You’ll just have to push a little harder, then.

“Hm.  If only this fancy communicator could…” you pause to look down at your wrist for a second, studying the menu.  You don’t think you’ve ever really looked at it, you never had the time.

Din’s growl is sudden and sharp through the earpiece.  “No, don’t even think—”

“Ah,” you smile, tapping the face and immediately finding the correct screen.  “Take pictures.”

He’s deadly quiet for a moment, and you bite your lip with excitement.  When he does speak, his voice is a pure threat, chilling you to the bone as much as it burns deep in your tummy.  “…You wouldn’t.”

Ignoring him, you suddenly locate a menu option that sounds phenomenal right now.  “Oh shit, does this holocall?  Or is it a video option?”

“Holo,” he says very seriously while you study the lack of complexity of the built-in camera in skepticism, “and the kid is awake, so you can’t—”

“Oh, it’s definitely a video,” you unclip it from your wrist and he curses as you sit up, and then you press a button and wait impatiently for him.  “Pick up.”

Din takes forever before responding, and you hear the continuous beeps as it attempts to connect, before his quiet baritone rumbles in your ear.  “What if I don’t?”

You feel your mouth pull down at the corners, not so much frowning as you are dubious.  He’s going to turn down the opportunity to see you and your surroundings when his whole goal is locating you?  Really?

“You sure?”  You ask softly, raising an eyebrow.  “You’d get to see me, where I am.  What I’m…” your eyes dip down to the loose robe riding your curves, your skin glowing against the white fabric, “…wearing.”

The beeps continue on for a few more seconds, until they finally stop.  You frown down at the black screen of the communicator, not seeing anything at all.  Did he decline the transmission request?  No… there’s a little red light next to the small lens that wasn’t there before.  Why can’t you see him?

“Why can’t I see you?”  You ask.  You want to look at him looking at you, you don’t want to always be stuck on the other side of a one-way mirror.

“I… have it linked to my helmet, but it only has a front-facing camera,” Din tells you after a moment, and he sounds… slightly out of breath.  “Easier to see, the watch is useless now besides the controls.”

Wait, does that mean you’re… being shown on the inner-display of his helmet instead of his wrist?  Right in front of his eyes, as if he were actually here with you?

“Nobody can see me but you?”  You clarify, and when he doesn’t respond, you bite your lip and lean back into the pillows.  You lift the watch up slightly, extending your arm out until you can get the angle as wide as possible.  “Can you see… this?”  You ask softly, before hooking your fingers in the collar of your white robe and slowly pulling it open for him.

“Where are you?”  Din asks instead, and you hear his footsteps through the earpiece, as if he’s walking away from something very quickly.

You don’t answer him, parting the soft fabric until your breasts are completely exposed and you sigh, closing your eyes and snuggling back into the pillows once more.  “I’ll tell you where I am if you keep watching me.”

“Why?”  Din grits in frustration, coming back around to the same dangerous question he had earlier.  “Why would you do that?”

“I don’t know.”  You slowly tilt the camera down until you can spread your legs and the robe falls open with the movement, letting him see your pussy peeking through in the flickering light of the muted screen in front of your bed.  “Can you see that?”

“Yeah,” he says shakily on the end of a breath, and you feel yourself get wet.  Fuck, he sounds so fucking tempted, the sight making his voice come without any of the self-assuredness as it usually has, but… he could also just be saying that.  How do you know he’s telling you the truth?

“What am I doing?”  You test him, lifting your knee just the slightest bit so you really give him something to look at.

“Spreading your legs for a camera,” Din responds without hesitation, voice scraping against your ear, making you shiver and your nipples harden.  Fuck, the way he says it, like it’s wrong and bad even though he’s the only one who can see or hear you do it… it makes you feel even more naughty and emboldened.

You bite your lip and reach your hand down to spread your lips for him, too, hearing his breath immediately catch on the other end.  Already your pussy makes your fingers slick against your soft skin, the sash of your robe still holding the fabric together on your body but also loose enough to allow it to part in the right places and reveal everything you want him to see.

“I am in an inn,” you whisper teasingly, letting your finger drop to brush against your clit and then sighing in soft delight.  Oh stars, that feels nice, it feels so good to treat yourself after being completely nomadic for two days, getting to be clean and soft and comfortable while you feel this pleasure, and Din’s voice growls through your communicator like you’re doing something painful to him.

“Fuck,” his breathing picks up while you begin circling your clit.  “Where?”

“Nariss,” comes your quiet moan, turning your head on the pillow to blink slowly at the camera.  Wanting him to see your eyes as well as your finger slowly dip into where you’re the hottest, caressing the sensitive skin there knowing he’s watching.

“Where in Nariss?”  Din’s voice is as pleading as it is sharp, desperately trying to keep either you or himself on track.

“I don’t know,” you say again.  Truthfully, you don’t—you don’t know the cross streets, you don’t know the part of town, you don’t know much of anything at all besides physical descriptors.  You quickly move the camera to the side as far as you can hold it and let him see you from a different angle with the window as a backdrop.  “But the window is open.  And there are lots of people outside.”

“Can they see you?”  Din immediately challenges.  Of course they can’t, you’re fifteen stories up and the room is darker than it is outside with all the city lights and swirling colors of the sky, but you suppose he doesn’t know that.  You think he just needs to relax—if this is what he’s always like during hunts, you now know exactly why he comes back to you all riled up and tense.

“I don’t know,” you murmur back, starting to rub your clit a little faster, trying to make it feel like him.  It doesn’t—your fingers aren’t large or strong enough to give you those perfect circles; you just feel like you’re meandering yourself towards ecstasy instead of picking you up and hauling your ass there like he does, but it’s okay.  Hearing Din’s rough breathing come through the earpiece, knowing his hands are probably clenched tight into fists, wondering if he’s hard yet… all of it culminates into a power trip unlike any you’ve experienced recently.  It makes you bold, tells you to open your mouth.  “Does it matter?  I’d still let you fuck me against it if you were here.”

“Stop it,” comes his growl, but what is he gonna do?

Your leg lifts a little wider so you can slowly slide your fingers down and push two of them inside yourself, and Din swears as you moan, “Come find me.”

“Give me your coordinates—”

“Are you giving up?”  You offer breathlessly, lifting your eyebrows and your hips up slightly at the question, but you’re… not expecting the extended silence following.  You assumed a growled no would immediately come next, or just another empty threat said with enough force to make you tremble with excitement, but not… nothing.

The response makes you pause just for a second, easing your fingers out and dragging them across your thigh to clean some of the wetness off before extending your arm out towards the communicator.  Din stays quiet while you navigate through the menu with trembling fingers, eventually finding your coordinates and hovering over the unchecked share location box.

You wait with your lip bit, confident he knows what you’re doing and you don’t have to narrate or repeat yourself.  Fuck, you knew you were considering abandoning this entire adventure just to be next to him again, but you had no idea.  No fucking idea that it could ever be a thought in his own mind as well.  You… assumed he likes this, hunting is what he does for a living and he’s the one who conceived of the idea in the first place.  Is he just that aroused by you?  Or is there something more?

“No,” Din eventually murmurs, and you immediately navigate out of the menu so you don’t accidentally press anything catastrophic, before pulling your hand away from the communicator with a resolved hum and settling back into the pillows again.  Making sure to look directly into the lens even if your eyelids are heavy with heat and desire, you slowly lick your fingers and then reach down once more.

His deep, shaky breath is so telling.  Exhausted after all this, but still not hanging up, still doing his hardest to tough it out when he’s only miles away from you and has jets attached to his back.  You don’t want to drag it out but you also do, you want to be kind but something about Din makes you also want to be as formidable as possible.  You’ll never be able to threaten like he does, you’ll never have anyone cower just because you walked into the room, you’ll never be as powerful or strong as he is, but you can still put up a fucking fight against him in your own way.

You whimper softly, your breathing beginning to find a quicker pace as surely as your fingers do.  It begins to spark and build, a red hot flame being kindled by the knowledge that he’s as close as possible without actually being close, right here with you when he always seems so far away.

“Mando,” you whisper, though your expression pulls inwards just slightly because it… in a scenario as sensual and intimate as this, it almost doesn’t sound righ—

“Din,” he whispers back, so quiet you almost don’t hear it, like he almost doesn’t want to but has to anyways, and then you just start to fucking burn.

“D-Din,” you whisper instead, trying to keep your voice as quiet as possible through the rising swell.  He’ll be able to see it, you think.  The way your tummy and chest start to heave, how your body begins to brace for it—and yeah, Maker, he sees it, because his voice suddenly changes.

“Stop,” Din growls roughly, knowing exactly how you cum—knowing exactly what it looks like, the way it sounds in your breathing, what it tastes like, how it feels on the inside.  It’s been so long since you’ve touched bliss without him, months and months since you brought yourself to completion on the floor of the Crest by yourself, and though he’s rarely ever denied you, your own high on newfound control causes it to slip.  He barks your name and tells you to stop once more, but it’s too late.

“I’m gonna cum, Din,” you breathe out—

“Don’t—”

It tears through you, rapid and surging, and he snarls a curse, something loud snapping and thudding and… did he just punch something?  You can’t think, it’s delicious and hard as fuck and everything you needed after two days of near constant movement and thought with little rest, and you bite your lip to keep quiet but a pained whimper still shoves its way out of your tense vocal cords regardless.  It sounds like it hurts because it does hurt; the orgasm shatters your body into pieces and you’re left trembling by yourself on this soft bed, wishing he was with you on a metal one.

You sink into the mattress in the moments following, sluggish and exhausted and just conscious enough to keep the watch facing you.  You bet the camerawork was terrible, shaky at best, but you can’t find it in yourself to care right now.  You just lay there and listen to his harsh breathing while you work to slow your heart rate, reveling in the filthy little show you just gave him and wanting to finish it out properly.

“Come find me,” you breathe out once more, lazing soft and naked for him, blinking dazedly at the watch as you pan it over you.  Your thighs are still twitching and there’s a thin sheen of sweat clinging to you, but you drag a finger through your swollen lips and carefully wipe the wetness across one of your nipples.  “Clean me up.”

“Fuck,” Din suddenly spits through the earpiece, furious.  “You think—y-you think—”

“What?”  You hum, basking in the afterglow and so, so curious.  Truly, you’re dumb as fuck, you have no clue what you’re thinking, but if anybody would be able to tell you, it’s him.

There’s a moment where his breathing stops.  It’s completely silent on the line, before you hear another few heavy footsteps on his end pick up and then halt just as quickly.

“You think you can taunt me?”   He murmurs, dangerous and deadly quiet.  “Show me exactly where you are, disappear and then make me waste forever trying to get there?  You think that’s gonna work?”

Your eyebrow lifts, considering.  He… may or may not have predicted your strategy perfectly, but his insight has stopped surprising you by now.  “Maybe…”

“Maybe you shouldn’t fall asleep tonight.”

Ooh.  That one sends goosebumps down your arms, but you’ve gained four hours on top of a twelve hour headstart.  He can’t scare you with that tone, not when you’re still woozy with pleasure and he isn’t right in front of you.  Instead of wilting beneath the hard threat, you just blink gently at the communicator, finding strength in being the only one to get him this mad when he’s always so composed, this talkative when he barely says a word.  “Maybe I’ll just stay here then?”

“Maybe you wanted me to know you’re in an inn because you already found someplace to hide that isn’t one,” Din reasons very, very adeptly.  Stars, your heart subtly begins to pick up, your legs continuing to tremble as the small red light next to the lens stares you down.  “Can’t be planning to stay with someone you just met because you’d already be there, can’t be going to a hostel because you found the one city on this moon built for commerce and not aid.  Not staying in another inn, you can’t afford it—the view looks high up, that robe is expensive, and you already bought food and at least five pairs of shoes in two days.  I don’t think the place you found is even in Nariss.  You think you can outsmart me, sweet girl?”

The chill down your spine doesn’t reach your eyes, you won’t let it.  You just feel yourself smile, tilting your head at him and licking your lips while your finger brushes one of your nipples, but Din doesn’t accept your silence the way you’ve always accepted his.  He wants an answer from you, right now, and it’s clear in the dark rumble of his voice, the danger slowly brewing beyond what you originally planned for.

“Tell me,” he orders, unamused and leaving no room to disobey.  “How long do you think you can keep running?”

Your eyelashes flutter, suddenly deciding… why not?  What have you got to lose?  Nothing that you didn’t already go into this situation completely expecting to lose anyways.  What’s the worst he can do?  Find you?

You close your eyes, pinching one of your nipples and wondering if you might just go for another one since he’s still here.  “Ask me again tomorrow.”

But then, instead of immediately responding, you just hear Din’s footsteps suddenly pick up, faster than any pace you’ve been able to keep over the past few days.  You don’t think it sounds like a run necessarily, but you know that his legs and strides are far longer than yours and it’s probably pretty much equivalent to a run for you.  You hear the rhythm of your demise speeding up, coming closer and closer, and everything in you both fears it and welcomes it.

“We’ll see,” he tells you, and then the red light vanishes and your earpiece clicks to silence.

***

Day 3—2:23am:

Even though it takes you much longer to do so than it normally would on a bed so large and comfortable, after such an exciting interaction and not being used to flickering light when you try to sleep but wanting to experience the rarity anyways, you’re eventually able to pass out.

But, not even a few minutes into a restless dream, you turn over and accidentally knock your communicator off the wireless charging station on the side table.  It blinks with four percent battery life.

***

To be continued!!

[erodasfishtacos]

Not Your Charity Case

prompt: Harry is a frat boy - who doesn’t need sympathy from anyone. He makes Y/N feel a sense of home when they’re together. But is Harry just like every stereotypical frat boy?

word count: 6.2k 

warnings: minor violence, language, deaf!harry, smutttt

other: when Harry is talking to Y/N or any other characters - it is to be noted that he is signing. When Y/N talks to Harry - she is also always signing

Let me know if you’d want to see anything else from this verse:)

+++

You were rushed - you really shouldn’t stop at the local coffee shop for a sugary, delicious mocha chip frappuccino.

Despite what people say, professors are much more lax and carefree in college.

It was about two weeks into the new semester, - your third here- and the seasons were changing - becoming autumn.

Chilled breezes, falling leaves, and vivid colors of nature made you happy.

When you arrive in line, there are two people ahead of you. A girl currently in front of the cashier and a tall male with a red and black flannel on behind her- typing away on his phone.

When she moves to the left, the broad man steps forward. His snapback facing backwards, brown curls dancing around his neck. You can’t help but notice how tall and lean he is, shoulders broad and straight.

You definitely haven’t seen him before on campus. You’d remember.

From what you can see, he shows the young girl behind the counter the screen of his phone without saying anything at all.

The raven-haired girl’s face pinches in annoyance. “We don’t accept orders like that. You need to tell me what you want.”

You’re a little surprised by both the rude cashier but also the man who doesn’t respond right away.

He attempts to show her his phone again but she shakes her head - annoyed.

You become interested in the situation when I watch him sign, a few gestures before pointing to his ears. In the most obvious form of saying “I can’t hear.”

The clueless girl gives him a blank look, “Listen, there’s a line. I don’t have time for this.”

You hoped you weren’t overstepping your boundaries when you slide up next to him, tapping him on his shoulder to get his attention.

It is a bit startling how gorgeous the boy is. He was tanned with bright green-eyes and a defined jawline that was currently clenched in frustration.

You sign, “What are you trying to order?”

He studies you for a second with hesitance before his long slim fingers begin to move, slowly as if he thinks you may be inexperienced in the form of language.

He replies, “Large coffee with a little cream and two sugars.”

You squeeze in front of him, “It is not only rude but illegal to not serve based on disabilities. Refusing an order from a deaf person isn’t moral or acceptable.”

The girl has enough decency to mumble an apology and turned bright pink, “Sorry, he doesn’t look deaf. “You roll your eyes - how can you tell that someone is deaf based on solely appearance? This girls a fucking idiot, you think.

You repeat his order to her, along with yours - sliding your debit card towards her and give her your name for the order.

The man trails behind you to the small waiting area. “Thank you,” he signs simply. You nod and return the pleasantry. The. hand him his steaming hot coffee.

“Thank you again. I’m going to be late to class, so I have to go,” he tells me, seeming a little out of place signing with a stranger.

“Go ahead, I’ll see you around.” It was the first time in a long time you’ve signed to anyone outside your family.

+++

Sipping your drink as you are only five minutes late and the class hasn’t even started yet. The man you just helped was sat in the back of the classroom, unloading his laptop.

With a little bravery, you wriggle your way through and plop into the wooden chair easily. Letting your backpack fall to the ground. Curly looks over at you with a frown, he signs, “Why are you sitting next to me?”

You blush, “I don’t know? Thought it’d be good to have someone to talk to.”

His hands are tense as he replies, “I’m not a charity case, so you can leave me alone.”

“Never said you were,” you huff when you tell him. Not appreciating how rude he was being. Signing had its own tones and expressions so to speak. For example, when someone is happy their signs and movements are different than when they’re sad or frustrated.

Harry seems to be the latter. You wrestle out your laptop to the PowerPoint that was going to be discussed today in class. You noticed Harry stared very intently at the professor to read his lips and expression.

You was surprised he didn’t have an interpreter with him but you’re sure he got special accommodations elsewhere. Even though that was absolutely none of your business.

His shoulders are tensed and he makes sure your arms don’t brush like you have cooties for the entire two hours. The nameless boy is up and out of his seat as soon as the professor shuts off the projector and turns on the lights - signaling class to be over.

Well fuck him then.

***

You don’t make the mistake to sit next him again. But that doesn’t mean you could ogle his strong muscular back and big hands.

It wasn’t your place to care but you felt twinges in your tummy when you noticed him struggling to keep up with the fast-speed class on certain days.

You were in the large, rustic library that smelled of old books and damp wallpaper. It was dead silent as people furiously studied or worked on papers due.

As you paced the shelves, you could not find the book you needed for your American Literature class. Fuck the Dewey Decimal System.

Part-time uni students probably just stuffed returned books in any open space they saw fit. But you need this book in particular, a discussion board post due by midnight and it was currently eight-thirty. They had ran out of copies at the on-campus bookstore.

After a valiant effort, you trudge up to the checkout counter. A little sign reads, “ring me if no ones here!”

You impatiently ring the silver bell. But no one comes. You give whoever is working a minute or two but nothing. Another ring it is.

Silence. No one. Of fucking course, luck is not on your side tonight.

You dramatically clunk your head onto the high counter top in front of you - groaning at the fact you may fail the assignment.

A tentative pat on your shoulder makes you snap your head up. To see the boy you’ve been constantly avoiding standing behind the checkout desk.

“Are you okay?” He asks. He had a name-tag on - Harry. He honestly looked a bit out of place. Harry appeared to be a frat boy. He was still had a boyish air about him but an intensity that was unmatchable.

He didn’t look like he would work in the library. He looked like...well he looked like he would be a beer pong referee or something.

You couldn’t see below his torso but he had a plain black snapback on and a vintage Elton John concert tee. A cross necklace dangling over the worn shirt.

You smile, embarrassed, but reply, “Just being dramatic. I can’t find a book and I was waiting here.”

There’s mirth in his eyes when he points to the bell,”Did you ring the bell?”

Your brows furrow, “I did.”

“Well I can’t hear it, I’m deaf,” he deadpans with a straight face and a dry sense of humor.

You roll your eyes, laughing nervously, “I didn’t know you were working!”

“What do you need?”

He helps you locate the book in two minutes flat before checking you out and you rushing home to finish the homework.

You felt bad ignoring your little sister’s FaceTime calls but you promised to call her back tomorrow. 

***

Though once again, you hadn’t interacted with Harry since last week - you constantly found yourself studying his stoic profile or fast moving fingers.

You would never befriend Harry because you feel bad for him - like he presumed. You enjoyed American Sign Language and it actually made you feel back at home.

You’re little sister was born completely deaf. She was much younger than you - eight years old. Fifteen years apart to be exact. You learned the language along with her and your parents.

When you were at home and your sister was there - you guys tried to only sign so she didn’t feel left out. So Harry felt like home - a little despite his completely off-putting demeanor. It made you a little bit more persistent than with any other frat boy.

***

The bulletin board in your advisor’s office caught your eyes. None of the little tabs ripped off in interest.

‘Student with ASL experience and above a 3.5 GPA needed for tutoring sessions - twice weekly. $16 dollars an hour.’

After your meeting, you tugged the little scrap of paper off and tuck it into your pocket. You couldn’t know for sure if it was Harry but you didn’t know of any other deaf students in the program.

You say ‘fuck it’ and type out an email to the advisor of academic affairs and accommodations to throw your hat in the ring.

***

You don’t hear back for three days - nearly forgetting about it in the mean time. Your eyes scan quickly over the email to grant you the position. They include contact information for no other than Harry Styles.

After psyching yourself out a little and a few paces across your kitchen tiles - you text him.

Hey! I’m your new assigned tutor. Would you like to set up a time and place? As well as what kind of help you’re looking for.

The reply text comes shortly after

Hello, thank you very much. I am just in need of hearing ears. I am deaf and have a hard time keeping up with the my professor. I have begun recording the lectures in hope that you can sign then to me.

Sure thing. That won’t be a problem!

I live in Alpha Sigma on 3rd street. I have my own room. I’d rather not have the tutoring session in public. However, if that makes you uncomfortable - we can figure something out.

You take a minute to debate. You understand why this would be a task too loud for the library and why he’d want privacy. You didn’t feel like I’d be uncomfortable with him.

I saw twice a week so does Tuesday and Thursday at seven work?

Sounds great. Thank you again x

Did he know it was me? Was he expecting it to me?

***

He was definitely not expecting you. You automatically knew that by the way his friendly smile dissipated into a frown when he opened the door for you.

You attempted to look nice today without trying too hard. A loose crop top with the university’s name, a pair of tight black leggings, bulky white socks bunched at your ankles, and white sneakers. Very 80’s.

You try to keep your composure, “Hi Harry, I’m going to be your tutor.”

He slowly nods at you, huffing out a breathe of irritation before inviting you into the frat house.

You’d only been here once or twice for a party so you had no idea what the house actually looked like when there weren’t bodies and booze everywhere.

He’s walking you past a group of boys playing FIFA on the flatscreen in the living room, white claws open everywhere.

“Y/N! Hey babe!” You look over to see Niall - one of your good friends from your part-time job at the bookstore - trotting over to you guys.

The blonde pulls you into an overexcited hug. He reminded you of a cuddly, soft puppy dog most of the time.

“Are you Harry’s little tutor?” Niall coos, leaning over to pinch Harry’s cheek. 

Harry- who was observing the conversation, focusing in on our lips, immediately bats his friend away. A small scowl forming on his face.

It automatically turns into a playful brawl where Niall tugs Harry into headlock. But he has no strength on the brunette.

Harry turns out of it quickly and pushes Niall to the ground. He straddles his stomach and begins to jokingly pinch and slap at him.

Niall hisses, “Ouch! You motherfucker! Big oaf!”

Then you don’t know why you find this endearing but Niall signs the word, “uncle” a few times to signal he’s accepted his lost.

The fact that they wrestle so much that Niall learned to sign how to give up made you giggle more than it should.

Harry crawls off of him, running a hand through his messy curls, his face a little flushed.

“I’ll talk to you later!” You tell Niall as your trailing behind Harry up a flight of stairs.

His room is extremely neat. A fluffy navy comfort decorated his bed with a few photos of flowers and nature on his wall. A tidy desk tucked away in the corner that had all of his school work loaded on top of it.

He chooses to sit in his desk chair, motioning for you to perch on his bed. You look at him expectantly when he pulls out the tape recorder and sets it on the surface.

He pulls his laptop into his lap and begins signing, “I need you to transcribe the lecture for me so I can follow it. We can skip through the bits where he is rambling or off topic.”

You nod, letting him know to begin whenever he’s ready. He presses the side button and the recording starts but it super unclear and garbled.

“Did you record this from your seat?” You ask, the professors words nearly inaudible and fuzzy.

“Yes.”

“You need to bring it to the front of the room. Ask Dr. Morrison  to lay it on his desk before class. I can’t hear anything but static and mumbles,” You tell him.

He laughs and shakes his head. His movements rough and angry, “Of course its fucked up. I get you as my tutor and then the recorder is shit.”

You glare at him, offended as you haven’t done anything to this boy. “Excuse me? I’ve literally been trying to help since I’ve meet you. What is your fucking issue?”

“I’m not a charity case! I don’t need you to feel bad for me. I’m not helpless! You’re probably just a silly little girl who took ASL in high school because it was cool and trendy. Go back to focusing on psych.”

“Fuck you, Harry,” Your gestures getting sharper and your face sour, “You know nothing about me so don’t act like you do. I don’t feel bad for you or think that you’re helpless.” You put up a hand and tell him to not talk.

“I was just being nice because I thought you were handsome and at first, seemed friendly. It turns out you’re just like every douchebag frat boy I’ve met. What a disappointment,” You chuckle, swinging your bag on your shoulder and storm out of the room without another look.

***

The cafe was jammed packed - it was Waffle Wednesday. You had said waffles in your tray and were about to plop down on a stool when you hear your name being called.

“C’mere, come sit with us!” He hollers over the commotion of the crowd. Niall.

You’re about to decline when some dude slips behind you and snags the stool. Shit.

A bit unwillingly you slide into the booth next to Niall, cracking open your sparkling water. “Mates, this is Y/N, we work at the store together and she’s Harry’s tutor,” he tells them. “Y/N, this is Liam and Louis.”

“Hello,” you try your best to come off as friendly even though you can feel Harry’s glare on the side of your face. You ended up falling to easy conversation with the boys. Niall has a very limited ASL vocabulary but tries.

The boys are also trying to talk slower and more pronounced so Harry can watch and understand. A couple of times he taps Niall on the wrist to repeat what was going on.

Your phone begins buzzing and you apologize for the interruption. It’s your little sister, Mazie, FaceTiming.

You answer the phone with a frown, signing “Aren’t you suppose to be in school?”

Mazie looks upset, eyes a little watery. She gestures back, “I left early. I’m sick.”

“Are you really sick or where you getting bullied again?” You asks her.

Your sister hesitates before sniffling, “You already know. I hate my school.” 

Mazie has had other children bully her for her disability since she started preschool and it as still happening in fourth grade.

“What can I do to help?” You frown, never wanting to see your baby sister cry.

You chat for a few minutes to help her calm down. When the phone call ends, you don’t realize that all the boys were watching you in interest. Harry in particular, keeps his focus on you with a wrinkled forehead.

“My sister’s deaf,” You tell them. The whole time you’ve been sitting with them you’ve been signing and verbally speaking to help everyone be able to be included in the conversation.

“That’s sick!” Louis says, smacking Harry’s arm. “Just like our lad Harry.” 

Harry grumbles when Louis shakes him a little. It seems like the boys loved to physically interact with Harry which was endearing.

Harry allows him to for a moment before he flicks his cheek hard and laughs when Louis flinches. The conversation goes back to normal.

***

Harry jogs up to you after your group shares farewells and a few punches. You pointedly ignore him as you trek to the class you two have together so it’s not like he can’t walk this way too.

“Please, wait,” Harry asks. He walks in front of you.

“What do you want?” You huff, keeping my glare firm and directed alley at him.

“I’m sorry. I made the wrong assumption.”

“You made a lot of wrong assumptions. The fact that you think of me so lowly is sad. I’ve been nothing but nice,” You try not to focus on his large palms that curve over the caps of your shoulders.

“I’m not very trusting of people.”

You snort rather unattractively, “No kidding”

“Can we please start over?” He asks, stepping back to give you space. He didn’t realize how close he’d been standing to you until your hair wisps across his nose.

“One more chance, Styles.”

Harry lays a hand on your upper arm and squeeze lightly before signing the simple gesture of ‘thank you.’

***

It turns out Harry is very handsy and physically affectionate. It wasn’t creepy though or something that ever made you feel uncomfortable.

You were still tutoring him but you hung around the frat with Harry nearly everyday. The days you just wanted to lay in bed resulted in a grumpy FaceTime from Harry.

Harry once stated during a tutoring session, “It is easier for me to show how I’m feeling with touch than words. If I ever make you uncomfortable - please tell me and I will stop.”

You smile slyly at his words that sounded more like a question, asking if he can touch you. “I guess I’ll let you feel me up every now in again.”

He giggles and looks down wolfishly - like an entertaining thought is dancing around in his mind.

You tuck your finger under his chin to gaze at you. “In all seriousness, I give you my consent to show your feelings with physical touch. I trust you and know you won’t do anything to make me uncomfortable.”

The curly-haired brunette smiles happily, his hand cupping the side of your neck and brushing over your pulse point.

He hadn’t touched you here before and it seems like it was his first goal to do so once he got permission. You can’t help but take in a deep gasp of air. You prayed he didn’t notice but by the small lift of his lips he did.

The simple touch made a flame of arousal swirl in your lower stomach. You felt like you were about to start sweating.

“Anyways,” You clear your throat and snatch back up the recorder. It now had better quality after Harry listened to you about placement.

***

The frat house was ridiculously full of drunk college students. Everybody on the dance floor was sweaty and sticky with a variety of different substances.

Niall had invited you - so you were searching about for him. Pushing through the crowd and nobody was able to hear you say ‘excuse me.’

You finally found fresh air in the backyard where beer pong and cornhole were set up. Niall was tossing his ball across the table, trying to splash in Liam’s red solo cups.

Harry was sitting on a cushioned patio chair, watching the game commence. Maybe he was a beer pong referee after all. 

He looked so fucking good tonight. He had a yellow snapback taming his curls - backwards of course. A black Rage Against the Machine shirt and his signature black skinny jeans. **

You made eye contact and were about to wave when a girl plopped down in the seat across from him.

Awkwardly you turn away, greeting the other boys and taking a seat in a lawn chair to watch them start their third round of the game.

Your eyes keep darting over to Harry who is staring blankly at the girl. She starts stroking his biceps and tracing across the tattoos like they belong to her.

Harry is attempting to let her know he’s not interested. His signs uselessly as she’s staring at his lips and not hands.

You’re moving before you know it, without another thought, you squeeze in between the two - separating them. You dramatically slide into his lap, funnily enough one strong arm wrapping happily around your middle.

The pretty blonde pouts out her lips, “Is he your boyfriend?”

Before you’re able to reply, Harry signs the obvious signal for ‘yes’ to the girl. Then rudely makes the shooing gesture. She’s up with a huff and stomping back towards the house.

Harry turns you sideways on his lap so that you two can see each other’s hands, “You saved me.”

“You’re just such a stud, have to protect you,” You joke - but not really.

He raising his eyebrows and smiles, “You were jealous.” It was a statement not a question.

You blush wildly, avoiding eye contact which you know he hates. He hates anytime you cut off ways of communication.

Harry taps your lips until you look up at him, “it’s really fucking sexy when you are.” A perk of sign language. He could dirty talk just about anywhere and mostly no one would ever know.

His thumb drags on your full bottom lip, signing clumsily with one hand so you had to use context clues to piece it together “Don’t think I forgot when you called me handsome a few months ago.”

“I don’t remember, doesn’t sound like me,” You boldly lie, snickering and nipping at the top of his thumb

His eyes become a shade darker when your teeth meet his skin. He presses his thumb further in until it’s in-between your teeth. The moment is broken when Niall screams, “Styles! You’re up next!”

**

You and Harry become separated after you spent nearly two hours watching all these drunk boys play beer pong. Harry was ridiculously good at the game and only had to drink two cups from the table.

You had wandered back into the house where the party had died down. There were only a handful of stragglers left but mostly just the fraternity brothers and their close friends.

With a fresh alcoholic seltzer in your hand - you didn’t trust open bottles at parties like this - you gaze at Harry through the back window.

Harry was being jumped by Liam and Niall. He was snarling playfully as Liam toppled them all over into the grass. Niall tries to stand up but Harry’s hand wraps around his ankle and makes him fall right back on his bum with a girlish squeal.

Niall leans over to give Harry a wet-willy but Liam manages to throw a plastic cup directly at Niall’s forehead. Harry and the other boys dissolve in childish giggles. Faces red from laughter and liquor. You feel a smile painted fondly on your lips from watching them.

“Hey, Y/N right?” A voice interrupts from behind.

You spin to face a guy you barely recognize from a previous class you shared. You smile nonetheless, “Hi...”

“Jake, Jake from Social Constructs and Society last semester.”

“Oh yeah, that’s right,” You smile and allow him to talk your ear off because you struggle to say ‘no.’ He was fine, nothing special, typical business major who thought he was hot shit because his daddy owned a golf course he wanted to take you to.

It was a normal conversation until his voice gets lower as if he’s trying to be more seductive, “Want to head to a room with me?” He nods towards the staircase.

You chuckle in disbelief at his bold and forward question. “No thank you, I’m good.” You really had eyes for one person right now and he was currently cussing out Niall in sign language in the backyard before tackling him once again to the ground.

“C’mon, I can really show you a good time,” He persuades persistently, stepping into your space - causing your nervousness to spike.

“I said - no thank you,”You bite out, starting to feel scared when he blocks your way out of the kitchen and presses himself against you and the counter.

“You’re really something gorgeous, you know?” He asks, ignoring my struggles to get away from him.

“Stop touching me!” You scream, hoping Niall or one of the boys would hear your wail. He puts a hand up to your mouth to muffle you but that only results in you biting him.

“Fucking bitch!” He cries out, pulling his hand back and winding up to either punch or slap you right in the face. You prepare for the impact.

Then in a blink off an eye, it becomes a blur, a muscular figure is crashing into Jake with full force and knocking him straight into the linoleum floor with a loud crash.

It’s Harry. Broad shoulders and thick but lean tattooed biceps. He’s standing over the harasser and drops on top of him. It shouldn’t look as graceful and tactful as it does.

You’d never seen anything like this from Harry before. Once you really got to know him - he was a gentle giant who liked romantic comedies, soft blankets, and vanilla cupcakes with rainbow sprinkles.

Harry’s fist is repeatedly connecting with the dark-haired boy’s jaw with full force. The only noise is from Jake as Harry is dead silent but his eyes zeroed in on the target.

When blood begins gushing from the man’s nose - Niall and Liam decide it times to physically pull Harry up. Harry had a slight red mark on his jaw when Jake had managed one punch before being defeated quickly.

Harry signs to Niall, “Tell him.”

Niall places his foot on the dude’s chest to keep him down, “My mate wants to let you know if you touch her again we’re not going to pull him off and he’ll gladly beat you to a fucking pulp.”

Jake groans, clutching his nose to stop the bleeding, “Fuckin’ asshole.” 

You were still blown away as you watch Harry’s heaving chest as he glares down at the boy. His fist clenched and knuckle bloody and swollen. Harry’s attention turns towards you. His furious expression melts into worry. You can read his face so clearly. He’s afraid he’s scared you off.

It was hard to believe you had this drop dead gorgeous frat boy defending you past midnight on a Friday night. A boy who didn’t need to hear but just to see you needed help to step in.

All your desires and lusts after the man in front of you burst like a rubber-band and the urge to have him felt uncontrollable. “Take me upstairs,” you demand quickly, arousal creeping up your spine.

He doesn’t understand you’re extremely turned on. Instead he looks like a kicked dog who’s about to get in trouble again.

Nevertheless, he takes your hand and maneuvers out of the kitchen and up the stairs until his bedroom door is closed.

Harry lips are turned down unhappily as he begins, “I’m sorry, love. I...” he pauses a moment before continuing. “I just wanted to make sure you were safe. I hope you don’t think less of me.”

You look him dead in the eye and sign, “Kiss me.”

He blinks slowly at you like he just hallucinate the gestures.

So you repeat your motions, slow and with intent, “Kiss me, touch me, do something.” No more time is wasted as he is stepping in front of you and cupping your face in his hands.

Without any hesitation now, he pressing a bruising kiss to your lips - taking your bottom one between his and sucking.

Your hands are immediately tugging at the hem of his vintage shirt, pulling apart to bring it over his head. Dark ink decorates his torso, for some reason something you weren’t expecting. A butterfly on his abdomen, two fern branches, tattoos on his side.

Harry chuckles, “This is new to me.”

Your eyes go wide and you sign, “You’re a virgin?”

Harry snorts and rolls his eyes before telling you, “God no. I mean I’ve never been able to really communicate during sex.”

Then before You can speak, he cuts in a bit frantically, “I’ve always gotten consent - not like that. I mean-“ You cut him off with a kiss - knowing he would never do anything you didn’t want.

You wanted everything from him.

“If you’d believe it, I like a bit of dirty talk when I fuck - but no one understands what I’m saying,” He tries to crack a joke but for some reason seems insecure and nervous.

“Hey,” You take his chin so he shyly meets your eye, “I can’t wait to hear it - you’ve already made me so wet.” His eyes light up like a kid on Christmas.

“You’re such a good girl,” he signs before tugging off your shirt and instantly finding your lips again. His hands are skillful as they unclasp your bra without any struggle and tosses it.

You tugs a bit as his hair to show your enjoyment as his tongue finds your nipple - lapping before taking it between his teeth. As good as it feels, you want him to feel even better.

You push him back until he’s sitting in the edge of the bed, legs spread and hands behind him on either side holding him up. Jaw clenched with arousal and restraint.

He’s pressed against the zipper of his jeans. And all you wanted to do was see him in all of his glory. You’re quick to undo the button and determined to get the finicky zipper down as well.

His fingers come beneath your chin until you’re looking at his sparkling eyes, a look of lust made his lids a little droopier and his mouth slack from heavy-breathing.

“Are you sure you want to? You don’t have to - I want to eat your pussy either way, pet,” He signs, leaning in for a slow, wet kiss.

You sign back with a pout, “Shut the fuck up.” He huffs out a laugh, letting go of your chin and wrapping a hand in your hair to keep it out of your face.

As soon as he’s helping you wriggle his briefs and jeans down his narrow hips, you’re met with the prettiest cock you’ve ever seen.

When you make eye contact with Harry, he raises a eyebrow and grins cockily, “Is it nice enough for your liking, love?”

You nod breathlessly - wasting no more time before ducking down to take him to your mouth, a slight burning in your throat from how big he is.

His hands keep ahold of your hair, thumbs pressed against your temples as you bob down his length with sloppy, warm licks.

Harry’s moaning as you pop off to kiss and suck at the underside of him, hands coming to cup and roll his balls. It is a few moments later when he taps your cheek to get your attention, one hand leaving his hair to sign that he’s close.

Your mouth speeds up, wanting to give him all the pleasure you could. Your hand coming to stroke at what couldn’t fit in your mouth, pumping quickly.

Before you know it, Harry’s rutting his hips upwards and coming with a long, deep moan from the rumbles of his chest. He’s pulling you up into his lap, pressing appreciative kisses to your cheeks and jawline.

Big hands palming at your breasts before slipping down into your leggings, brushing softly over your mound. 

You whine and hitch forward to grind against his palm as soon as he cups you. He smiles widely at your desperation, pressing the heel of his palm harder against you to create more pressure.

You were already so wet and turned on that it wasn’t going to take much. The ball of your climax was burning low in your tummy. However, you wanted him to taste you like he said he would.

You sign, “I’m close. Please, I want your mouth on me.”

With that, he’s flipping you until you’re laid out on the bed. His hands tugging off your leggings and underwear with no further ado. “Holy shit,” He gestures, gazing all over your body and not stopping on one spot for too long.

“What?” You ask, fishing for the compliments you know he’s about to shower you in.

“You’ve got such a pretty pussy,” he signs, dimples popping in his cheeks and a curious finger traces your entrance before dipping in.

You lightly kick at his stomach, “Get on me.” He pouts, crooking his finger against your spot before pulling it out. Fucking tease.

Then his face is disappearing between your spread thighs and a strong lick is delivered from your clit all the way down to your bum.

Since he can’t hear you, you grabs handfuls off his hair. Tugging at the roots, scratching your nails into his scalp to let him know how good he is. So fucking good.

When you accidentally buck your hips hard against his mouth, you curse and run a apologetic hand through the locks. He doesn’t look up at you but lift a hand and signs, “Again.”

You absolutely whine, begging to ride him with determination - climax on the brink. He hums causing vibrations on the sensitive nerves. With that, your hips are meeting his tongue and you’re coming. His face dampening with your release - happy as a clam when he pops back up.

You can’t remember the sign for condom, so you sign, “Protection?” Harry understands right away, rustling through the drawer until he finds a stray packets, “It’s been awhile.”

“Same,” You gestures - watching as he slides it down his length and crawls overtop of you. He was pink and swollen - having to be a bit sensitive from just coming a little while ago.

“Ready, love?” He asks, pressing soft kisses to your jawline. You nod, reaching down to guide him in.

And you weren’t lying, it had been a while and he was big. The stretch wasn’t uncomfortable, just a lot. But his wet, open-mouth kisses made you stay grounded.

Harry’s moans were absolutely obscene as he slide all the way in before stopping to give you a moment. His arms strong, holding himself over you. The cold metal of his necklaces brushing against your tight nipples.

When you have him the okay, he begin giving you deep, hard strokes on each thrust. His noises so loud they had to be able to hear them downstairs. They were deep and low - rumbling in his chest with pleasure.

Then his hand is coming to your throat. For a wild moment you thought he was going to choke you but instead he rest it lightly, palm flat.

It takes you a moment - then it hits you.

Holy fuck. He is feeling the vibrations of your moans - erupting from your vocal cords. Feeling out the movement from your throat so he can feel how much you’re enjoying it.

You should be embarrassed but you can’t find it in you when you come again right on the spot. His fingertips nudging into the skin to feel the intensity as it wracks through you.

When you’re done riding out your orgasm, he reaches for the headboard behind you with his other hand, gripping it tightly as he begins to pound in with all his strength.

The bedframe is hitting the wall so loud that the whole house must be able to hear it. Hitting with every directed thrust until his mouth is dropping down into a long, timbred moan and he’s coming.

---

Later, when the two are you have settled for the night in the warmth of his bed. Harry seems a little nervous, once again. It takes him a moment to meet your eyes and brushes a strand of hair off your forehead.

“What is it?” You ask, tucked into his side. His body so solid and comforting.

“It’s corny,” Harry frowns, eyebrows furrowing as his eyes flash across your face.

“Tell me,” You insist, bringing his hand to your lips to kiss his fingertips.

“I feel like you were made for me. Like...we were meant to be together,” Harry signs, hesitant to share his thoughts. But it doesn’t scare you away. You can’t help but agree.

“I think so too,” You reply before pressing another kiss to his puffy pink lips.