#like are you gonna spend all that money in the afterlife when you get there from a premature heart attack or

[sangsaracycling]

class consciousness is so stupid low among medical professionals. the amount of them that are willing to work and enforce systems that force their colleagues to work 90+ hours a week (putting them at risk, putting their PATIENTS at risk) because if they instead accept normal worker protections and demand that hospitals/governments hire more specialists for better coverage then they have to go from mid-high six figure earnings to like idk lower six figure earnings?

[anchor-ice]

ok since the overall response was positive i'm gonna tell you a bit about this project!

this is a series of jokey mini-comics detailing the (after) lives of a band of ghosts who are stuck in an abandoned summer camp near omsk location pending in 2005. this is basically bbc ghosts but russian and with more gore.

katya is the only one who's alive! she's 15 and started seing ghosts after her shitty boyfriend crashed his bike with her in the back seat. she's trying to help the ghosts mediate their relationships with eachother and the world, and they're helping her with homework (sometimes) or being general nuisances (more often).

the pilot died in 1944 when his plane crashed while he was test-flying it. he was wounded in the frontlines and sent home to recover, but decided to help out in the poiloting school in the meantime. the guy on whose watch the plane crashed was shot for sabotage afterwards, and his ghost in turn is pretty resentful about that, because it was just the lack of funds and old equipment going out. plot: katya helping them meet and make peace with eachothers deaths. the pilot had a daughter himself and thus is feeling very paternal towards katya. most organised and helpful of the ghosts. died with one broken cigarette whick they all now share and an officers notepad with his papers and maps, where he sketches from time to time (it all disappears after he stops concentrating 😔) has ideological beef with the suit and ex-beef with the sailor (they are besties now).

the sailor died in 1921 during the kronstadt rebellion and was very surprised when he woke up near omsk. he had a precious cigar case that was lost a year before his death, and in the chaos of th civil war found itself in a magpie's nest in the woods near omsk. his soul is tied to this case, and he spends a lot of time trying to get to the case and taunting the magpie family (unsuccessfully). has a tin of cocaine, 4 machine gun belts, no machine gun and an attitude. loves asking katya to marry him and run away to saint-petersburg together. plot: katya finally getting him his cig case back. obsessed with space and in love with yuri gagarin, wants to find and meet his ghost

the suit died in 1997 during a buisness deal gone wrong, shot and buried on the abandoned camp territory, is still a bit pissed about that. is disgusted by the starry-eyed belief in the happines of all mankind the pilot and the sailor exibit and in general is tormented by the fact tht he will have to spend his afterlife in a summer camp surrounded by these people. loves to come harass the monk living in the lake nearby to get some sort of ideological closure and figure out how afterlife works. plot: getting katya the money to move to another sity when she goes to uni

the bomber died in 1896. tried to sicide bomb a govt official but was discovered and sentenced to death, later pardoned bc of Nicholas 2 acending to the throne, sentence switched to siberian exile for 25 years with no rights to return. killed herself out of boredom and despair. gets along well with the sailor (he is slightly intimidated by her), would really like to talk to the monk but he doesn't answer to anyone. plot: idk so far 😔

the bear victims - a lego of bear victim parts. that's it. a comedic side character.

the monk died alone on an island in the lake in ????, the island was later blown up to increase the water capacity flowing from the lake to a water reservoir. doesn't talk to any of the other characters bc of his seraphimic schema and vow of silence & solitude. slowly warming to the idea of breaking his vow and trying to help the other ghosts move on, because if god's not letting him go, that must be for a reason, right? plot: speaking to katya

[drowninginblox]

Thoughts on Fit's Last QSMP stream- spoilers ahead

It is Thursday, May 23rd, 2024. 2:36pm EST when writing. And I am disappointed in myself. Not for anything Fit, the server, the admins, or anyone besides me has done.

I hoped. And once again, I am expectedly crushed. I had a feeling that Fit would take himself out of the equation in the way he did. There would be no Pac Camio (ghost or living), no sight of Ramon either. Just business, as Fit is one to do.

But god did I hope for something out of a fanfiction. The biggest contenders were Pac's ghost or a hallucination speaking to Fit at the bottom of that damn hole to prep and escort him to the afterlife where everyone was waiting for them. OR the idea that Fit, after returning to the island, would kill himself in a similar but unique way to Pac and Mike. Regardless, neither happened. But I am very happy in what I witnessed.

I won't get into too much there will be vod watchers who accidentally stumble into Tumblr- to which I tell you, GO WATCH THE DAMN VOD.

Nonetheless, I enjoyed the Fit abused in-game mechanics to justify his survival down there. However, it calls into question whether or not he took up cannibalism again (writers you know what to do) in which I digress cus that a conversation within itself. I also appreciated that Fit made the effort to check up on more people other than just Pac and Ramon. It sounds like "Yeah, ofc." but let us remember that most of us (and I could be wrong) are shippers, and our yearning for Hideduo kind of blindsided the other relationships q!fit has. (This applies to me to just so yall know)

What fit did to justify or at least give credence to Ramon's character was sweet and I really hope we get some Ramon-centric fics about the possibility of his survival in an otherwise abandoned world, similar to his father. I may do that on my own but definitely not today. Mr. Fit Em See fucking wrecked me and I really could use some fluff right now. Whether it be at my own hand or someone else's, I could not care less.

Hueveitos, we are all going through it. And I bet on all the money I have that Twitter is going insane, Tumblr is dying, and Fit is either taking a well-deserved break or laughing his ass off at us. Probably both knowing that fucker. The brilliant bitch he is. I apologize for not liveblogging, I was enamored with what was going on. But we all were lol

Anyway, I'm probably gonna listen to the music Fit included in the finale and daydream of better days for q!Fit. Ones where, maybe, in another life, something happened on Madagascar's end where the tech didn't work and Fit was suspended in the QSMP for the rest of his natural life. Maybe Ramon is fine enough and just wondering, looking for Fit in an otherwise empty world. Hell, in another life, Pac waited longer for his American boyfriend. Maybe everyone did. Maybe the kids didn't get sick, maybe they all died a week or so after they were found. Who knows!

But with what we were given, and who we had to spend that time with, I know that I'll always look back on the Qsmp in a similar vein to another sorry sap of a sever I know. The memories will persist, the story will continue to be told. The world will keep spinning, and I will keep writing.

Thank you to everyone who was involved in the experience whether it be seen or unseen admin, CC's who somehow found this post on a hellcite, any and all fandom goers that I have stumbled upon in search of solace from the canon, and my girl over discord! I DON'T KNOW YOU AT ALL BUT YOU'VE HELPED ME GET THROUGH THE LAST LEG OF THIS JOURNEY!!

Here's to tomorrow everyone, regardless of what happens! I love this community and I sure as shit hope you guys don't become strangers!

[sharoscylla]

it's been over a year since BG3's full release so i'm gonna say it

i don't think myrkul actually did resurrect isobel thorm from the dead. based on her description of what happened - and the facts that in that same cemetery they made a point of having a tomb with someone wearing Boots of Feign Death + malus had that sharran paralysis amulet - I think she was put in a form of Feign Death either by an agent of Shar, Shar herself, or Malus as a way to prod ketheric into joining malus in shar worship. (also that shar specifically didn't let isobel die JUST to spite selune and melodia who would naturally be waiting for isobel in the afterlife) I think it's as simple as somebody realizing 120~ years later that she only SEEMS dead in there and lying their ass off to convince ketheric that they resurrected her instead of waking her up, with myrkul backing up the lie because honestly he doesn't have very many active worshippers at any given time, and none so powerful as ketheric is or was.

i also don't think isobel is ketheric's only child! dialogue + ingame journals make it pretty clear to me that gerringothe and thisobald are ketheric's chlidren, based on the fact that they're more elfish than isobel and ketheric I'm guessing those two maybe had a different mother than isobel, and ketheric was a shit dad but neither selunite or sharran even though his uncle malus was a sharran. Ketheric meets melodia, converts to selunite worship for her, eventually they have isobel and he's supposedly a pretty good dad to her, which, you know, probably raises the hackles on his adult children who had to live with a cruel and demanding father. thisobald had his own terrible shit he was up to prior to being trapped there forever in the shadowcurse, but other than being a bitchy embezzling boss gerringothe was just... trying to save up money to flee town and never come back, and the shadowcurse trapped her there before she could find the courage to actually make the leap.

speaking of which, the thorms are czarr-levels of incest coded. I know I've been saying I'll write the Thorms Were All Molested By Ketheric And Malus manifesto for a year now, but that will have to wait for when I'm slightly less busy. ... or, well, it'll feature in the Ripley Savage AU, but they're just now getting into the Underdark in that one, so, you know, it's a ways away.

This is not Gortash Apologia (...probably just a bit) but do you really expect me to believe Zariel went "Yeah sure, I'll take this 21 year old tiefling with no specific skillset that's exactly like a million other mortals, and not only will her soul not be in danger from this deal but I'll make sure she doesn't die of shit that would normally kill a person to death, just so i can spend a couple years grooming her into a super strong warrior that will do cool tricks for a few years before her inevitable mortal demise, at which point i still won't have possession of her soul so it'll be fucking off to the fugue plane at that point, here's A Big Pile Of Super Rare Infernal Metal I Invented During My Reign Over The Last 130-140 Years, I'll also let you study the blueprints of the guy who is designing her heart engine because that's definitely the kind of information I want floating around the Material Plane where anybody could get their hands on it/you".......... no man. I think Gortash paid/convinced Zariel to take Karlach and make her strong. Zariel probably did not want Raphael building himself a stronghold in what should have been her domain, so I can believe that they came to an agreement as a way of mutually spiting or undermining him, and I think - considering the steel watchers were just in the prototype stage when Florrick last was in Baldur's Gate within a tenday or two, i do not believe for a second gort just sat around on the materials and plans for a decade without *starting* the project - that he didn't actually get his hands on the plans or materials for the watchers until his durgeheist much much more recently, say 1-2 years ago at the most. "But karlach said Zariel said XYZ when-" zariel lied. why would the archdevil of avernus be the one telling the whole truth here. at that moment Gort was Karlach's Main Person (her parents dead, she flat out says she loved him and respected him and was happily building her life around being his trusted bodyguard) and Zariel needed to make sure Karlach would be easier to control re: depending utterly on Zariel to survive etc. once she had the engine installed it'd be even easier to control her - soul coins, keeping her in the middle of the blood war front lines instead of screwing around asking questions or making alliances - and of course, zariel couldn't have known that karlach was ultimately indomitable, even if it took a decade for her to slip her chains.

I know... I know, it was already the product of years of labor, and stuff like multiple act 3 storylines didn't end up getting the amount of attention they deserved... but i wish there was a magical item crafting system beyond "1 sussur weapon/eye of the absolute spear/mourning frost/exactly 2 grymforge items"+alchemy. We found all that mundane jewelry and all those gems and I don't care if it would have all been mid equipment, I want to have been able to make the campers all wear matching Rings Of +1 Besties. I also hunger greatly for "hey, if you're going to spend 30+ hours in Act Three anyway, and you have the money for it, why not just buy an apartment or house for you and the squad and decorate it as you see fit" + the fallout 4 style settlement creator post-game. Even if I couldn't get past the level 12 cap I'd still be out there hunting monsters to make my village safe + get supplies to make my village/house cool looking + attract stronger villagers. please let me create a city-state. i desire it so much.

[allthemusic]

Week ending: 7th June

It's a tough job following Elvis, but the song we've got today is legendary, so if any song's going to be able to do it, it's this one! We're also firmly into rock and roll, with one rocker replacing another, which is kind of cool to see!

The Saints Rock and Roll - Bill Haley and His Comets (peaked at Number 5)

Don't let the title fool you, this song is a reskinned version of Oh When the Saints Go Marching In, which, for the uninitiated, is a Christian gospel hymn that's become a jazz standard, all about looking forward to the end of times, when the saints go marchin' in. Dating back to at least the early 1900s and first recorded in 1923, it's been done by just about everybody in the world of jazz, but most famously Louis Armstrong in 1938. So this is a really well known song.

Still, this feels like a fresh take on it, adding a sort of rock and roll sensibility that sets this version apart, but also connects it to rock and roll's jazz forebears, establshing that yes, these are part of the same tradition. You can do a rock and roll version of a jazz standard - in fact, it's not only possible, it's a good fit. You see it from the start, as Bill adds in lyrics about rock n' rollin' 'til the end and a proper saxophone, which I'm beginning to realise is the rock and roll instrument par exellence at this point. That and electric guitar, I guess? If you could pick a single sound as "most rock and roll" at this point you couldn't do much better than a sax and guitar solo, with guitar taking over from the sax midway through. Heck, I think this song has one exactly like that.

That said, my favourite solo break is the one at the end when you just get double bass and drums. It feels like a proper link back to jazz, with these instruments that have carried across and are used for both genres of music. This is rock and roll going back to its jazz roots, in a way that really respects and honours both styles.

And the lyrics really emphasise this link between the styles of music, above and beyond any real concern with getting to the afterlife and being among the godly folks in heaven. Sure, you've got lyrics about when the saints go marchin' in, but mostly Bill spends the back half of the song making heaven sound like a rock and roll gig, dreaming of when that guitar comes wailin' in, then when Rudy begins to blow, when that sax man starts wailin' in, when that rhythm comes wailin' in and finally when old Rapper starts to wail. Which, now I look at it, is a whole lotta wailing.

I'd also be remiss not to mention the sort of meta almost-arrogance of the line where Bill sings about wanting to be in heaven when the band plays rock 'n roll / Well, when the Comets rock 'n roll. It takes a certain swagger and confidence to put yourself in that picture, but I admire it, you know? That's what rock and roll feels like it's about, honestly, at this point, the sort of performative claim that rock and roll as a phenomenon is just something else, something special and fun enough that yeah, of course everyone in heaven's gonna be jamming to it! I can't imagine any artist prior to maybe 1955 making claims like this, you know?

The song was also apparently featured in a 1956 film, called Rock, Pretty Baby, as part of the soundtrack. The summary sounds like the most 1950s thing ever, all about a boy in a band whose dad wants him to be a lawyer. He goes to a wild party, breaks stuff, and enters a battle of the bands to get to money to pay it back, and thus earns his dad's respect. It's such a classic teen movie plot - a new type of movie, for a demographic that's only just finding its own identity at this point. We're right at the start of "teenagerhood" as a concept, and as such, of course they had to have rock and roll. What else could get that sense of youthful exuberance and rebellion, you know?

Yeah, this is good fun. Again, we've got the "solid song, decent cover" effect going on. It diverges a bit from the original song, adding a bunch of extra stuff, but it's all very on-brand, and honestly, I like to think that 1950s me would have been bopping away to this.

Favourite song of the jazzy, rockin', somewhat self-aggrandizing bunch: The Saints Rock and Roll

[robins-on-lea]

Since I already made an Og!ChoiCale au thats pure angst, time to make an angst + crack + slight fluff one :-)

So, during the 20 year war that was going on in TBOAH, Og!Cale and Og!Choi Han ended up meeting again at one point. And when they did meet, they decided to reconcile and apologise to each other.

After that, they started to spend more time with each other. And the more they did, the more Choi Han realised that he’s starting to fall for the (former) trash.

He didn’t say anything, of course, because he’s afraid that It’d break the small thread that they call friendship. So as a result, he never did confess.

That was a mistake.

Cale ended up getting killed by White Star. Choi Han makes sure to kill White Star permanently after. Even after White Star’s death, Choi Han still falls into despair. Because the last person who understood him is gone, and he didn’t even get to confess.

But because one of Cale’s last wish is to not only rebuilt Henituse Territory, but to also have Choi Han survive until the end, he decided to live. He decided to live, not for himself, but for the one whom could’ve been his lover.

Since Choi Han’s lifespan is equivalent to a dragon’s, he decided to slowly rebuilt the Henituse territory for Cale. After like, 50 years or so, Henituse territory is now called Henituse City.

Choi Han lived there until his death. When he did die, he expected to go to the afterlife, not wake up as a baby. Not only that, when he woke up, he found himself back into his own modern world.

Needless to say, Choi Han was very upset. He’s tired. He’s been living for over 1000 years without one of his loved ones. All he wants is to rest. Is that too much to ask?

Anyways, he was upset and depressed the first 10 years into his new life, but after some therapy and love from his family, he got back up on his feet and started to get better.

Not too mention, one of his older siblings is going to have a kid, which means he’s gonna be an uncle! :D

So he made sure to fix himself and wanted to become the best uncle. Thats when Choi Jung Soo is born. Because Choi Han and CJS has a 10 year age gap, instead of referring to each other as uncle and nephew, they always instead introduce themselves as cousins instead.

So, after Choi Han graduates, he moved into the city, opened a dojo and lived there for more than 5 years. The house he bought is big enough for 3 or 4 people to live in. It’s just incase CJS wants to stay there.

So one day, CJS, who’s 17 btw, said that one of his friends, whom he calls his dongsaeng/whom is also his crush, is gonna come over to do a school project.

According to CJS, the one who’ll be dropping the kid to his house is the kid’s older cousin, who’s apparently, around Choi Han’s age. Choi Han is not ready to meet whomever this person is.

Because based on CJS’s description, the older cousin owns a whole ass corporate, is a CEO at a young age, and is insanely rich. Like, the kind of rich where you can buy a country and your bank account will say that you still have unlimited money.

He wasn’t even more ready when he found out that this particular cousin is a woman, because Choi Han has been afraid of woman even during his past life. He does not want to deal with an insanely rich woman who could (and might) possibly have his ass accused by some fake news that will destroy his family. (even though that sounds highly unlikely)

However, CJS calls the woman noonim. Which means whoever she is, she probably won’t do anything for the sake of his family.

So, later that afternoon, Choi Han patiently waits for his nephew’s friend/crush/dongsaeng, while CJS goes and cleans his room for the first time. While he was waiting, he’s also preparing himself mentally. (for what? he does not know, but he feels like he has too, for some reason)

When he heard the doorbell ringing, he went to the door, slightly ignoring CJS’s “That must be her!”

He opens the door and goes to the gate, only to stare at a young, Korean girl with black hair and familiar reddish-brown eyes. And the first thing that comes to his mind is “Cale?”

But that was broken when the girl spoke; ”Umm, are you Choi Jung Soo’s uncle?”

Choi Han could tell that this isn’t Cale. Cale isn’t shy, he’s someone who would outright call for the waiter the moment he got the wrong food. So with an inward sigh, he told the young girl that yes, he is CJS’s uncle.

Apparently, the girl’s name is Kim Rok Soo. KRS then told him that she needs to go back to the car to tell her cousin that this is the house. Choi Han, of course, let’s her.

He opens the house gate for a bit so that he can go outside. The car that KRS came in is expensive, and Choi Han swears that he wouldn’t be able to bought that kind of car even if he dedicates himself to working 24/7 for then next 50 years.

So as he was spacing out, he heard KRS saying “If you really wanna know, the you should come out yourself.”

And Choi Han swears that at that very moment, his heart stopped. A familiar shade of red hair stepped out of the drivers seat. For a moment, he wonders if its him, but that guy is a guy. Is it possible to reincarnate as a woman?

The red-head had sunglasses on, (the expensive ones, his mind notes) and he wishes he could see her eye colour, just to confirm something. The red-head walks over to him before leaning backwards towards her car, while KRS mutters something under her breath and taking out a bag from the cars trunk.

“So, are you really Jung Soo’s uncle?” The red-head asks him with a raised eyebrow.

God, even the voice is the same. The only difference is that it sounded way more feminine. He swallowed some saliva before answering her question.

“Yes, yes I am.” He’s nervous, but why is he nervous?

“Hmm…You look way too young to be his uncle though?”

Before he can answer that question, a voice from behind the gate(CJS’s voice, his mind notes) calls out.

“Cale-noonim, why didn’t you tell me when you were gonna arrive. I would’ve stand outside if I knew.”

“You punk, you standing outside when I’m just about to arrive is exactly the reason why I didn’t text you before hand.”

Cale? Cale. Cale is her name. Her name is Cale. Could it really be? He doesn’t want to hope, but…

“By the way, I thought you said you live with your uncle? Isn’t this guy your cousin?” As the red-head Cale said so, she pushed up her sunglasses, revealing the same (oh god its the same hewantstocrytoyellisittrulyhim?) reddish-brown eyes that he oh-so loved years ago.

“Oh, Hannie is my uncle. He looks young, doesn’t he noonim?” CJS said with a small laugh.

“Indeed he does.” A familiar smirk, one that he cane to love, was featured on Cale.

The red-head hold out her hand towards him and said;

“Nice to meet you. Sorry for the late introduction, wasn’t really that sure on whether you’re this Punk’s uncle or not. You know, looking all young, and all,” She said while tilting her head a bit to CJS, who’s already escorting KRS into the house. “I’m Cale, Cale Henituse. What’s yours?”

“…Choi Han.”

Cale smiled.

“Nice to meet you, Choi Han.”

(I have too many words to type out (because I’m using my phone), so the crack + fluff part is coming in part 2 instead)

[hoolequinn]

Cap-Ironman Rec Week Day 1

Here are some recs I have for Day 1 of cap-ironman Rec Week! Today’s theme was Multi-verse Monday, so here are some recs of mine from various Stony universes, or ones that feature multi-verse crossovers. I tried to avoid the larger universes of 616 and MCU, focusing on the smaller ones instead:

Worth a Damn by @saber-wing

Avengers Assemble

That was what it always came down to, wasn't it? Money. Who had the most of it.

Tony has a rough day. The Avengers hit a nerve.

The world spins madly on by goodmorningbeloved

1872 & MCU

This isn’t about the beginning.

This is about the bullet that slices through Steve Rogers’s heart, neat and clean, and leaves him for dead in the dust. This is about the gun that suddenly feels cold, colder, in Tony’s hand as he lunges to his feet and lurches forward, screaming and screaming.

_

Or, Steve and Tony meet again in the afterlife.

The Jar by @sineala

Marvel Adventures: Avengers

The Avengers are ridiculously competitive people, and what starts out as a silly late-night team discussion quickly becomes a contest: their names. Not the code names -- the nicknames. Who can go the longest without using them? They pledge to spend a week not nicknaming each other, and they'll pay up every time they mess up. This hits Tony the hardest, and not just financially. Tony's got a lot of nicknames for everyone, but most of all for Steve -- and when Tony can't use the names he's already got, the names he uses reveal feelings he had no idea he had.

Like stepping on the sun by Red, @starksnack

Avengers Assemble & Marvel Tsum Tsum

When the Sorcerer Supreme asks the Avengers to go investigate a potential multiverse incursion, Tony is less than impressed. The weather is foul, and it's not even a Tuesday. The multiverse portal, when it does occur, seems to be a bit of a fizzer, so Tony isn't expecting anything to happen. He certainly isn't expecting an oversized fuzzy jellybean to come and meddle in his personal life.

I cried a constellation for you by lmao_thunder, @starksnack

Marvel’s Avengers (video game)

Star Tear Disease. The internet tells him it’s deadly. It's not a very well-documented disease, officially at least, because it's been romanticized in the media for years but it's very real. As real as the glittering abominations clumped in his palm and soaked in tears. A grin curls onto Tony’s face. Maybe he’ll have enough to make his own American flag of unrequited love. Perhaps Steve would get a kick out of it.

Epic Love Story by @captainneverever

Marvel Adventures: Avengers & Marvel Tsum Tsum

Tsum Tsum Steeb dreams of becoming a hero and an artist and falls in love with a mysterious song. Then he's kidnapped and doesn't know if he'll ever find the tsum tsum of his dreams. Can the Avengers help him?

Double Time by @sineala

616 & Marvel Noir

Cassino, Italy, December 1943. Special Agent Tony Stark, former Marvels adventurer, is sent to investigate a Cosmic Cube found by the Invaders -- and it's the perfect opportunity for him to rekindle his secret romance with Steve Rogers. But when Hydra attempts to steal the Cube, an inadvertent wish for help leads to the appearance of a Tony from the future of another world: Director Stark of SHIELD. This Tony is a man with a lot on his mind. He refuses to tell them anything about the future, but he seems to know much more than he should about Captain America. And something's happened that's clearly killing him inside, but he's not talking. When Director Stark's failed attempt to return home leads to the unexpected appearance of another visitor from his universe, all the lies come undone. Now there are two wars to fight, and the second one could ruin all of them.

And I think it’s gonna be a long, long time by @elysian-prince

Marvel’s Avengers (video game)

“Well, since we’re going to die anyway, you have any, I don’t know… Last confessions?”

Or what would have happened if Steve and Tony had been more open about their feelings in the escape pod.

Inevitable by @naxa1818

Avengers Assemble

After Tony lost a bet to Steve he has to go through a week of basic training. If only he hadn't just had a revelation about the super soldier. It was going to be a long week.

The shadow of a dream by @laireshi

1872

Tony can't make it right again. Steve can.

[twisted-in-wonderland-jay]

Birthday from the boys (NRC)

Something to know for reading all of this is that I’m going to try my best to write platonic relationships that can be implied as romantic. Because some people may like a character but not feel romantic feelings towards them but still would like to know how they would act on their birthday.

Part two is the teachers and RSA

Riddle

He would prune the garden himself, regardless of the queen of hearts laws he would paint the roses your favorite color

He would lead you to the garden where the two of you would have tea and talk for hours

Eventually taking you around the garden

Ace

Out of all of these boys, he’s the one that’s most likely to forget your birthday

This man did not write it down

He overhears you talking with the other first years and them saying happy birthday. Then it finally clicks and he remembers that today is your birthday and he plays it off like he remembered

He’s not being mean in any way he just honestly doesn’t remember birthdays well

He talks with the first years while you’re not around and plans a little sleepover of sorts at your dorm

When you come back to your dorm for the night you find all of the first years there and they’re just kind of chilling in the lounge

They bring out a cake for you saying that they all baked and decorated it themselves but with the experience that the first years have it’s a strange-looking cake but it does it taste all that bad it’s just a lot of frosting and decorations because each one of them wanted to add a personal touch.

You guys have fun run around the dorm causing trouble

Then once it turns 12 you guys decide to settle down for the night and plot twist you don’t actually go to bed but instead play Mario kart till 3 AM

Deuce

He would try his hardest the whole day to make it the most perfect and kind of relaxing day ever. But utterly fail

In his eyes, he failed but it’s not that big of a deal

He’ll try to hold the door open for you or carry you around for fun and either, drop you, or trip

He feels really bad the whole day that he keeps messing everything up and it keeps getting less and less romantic

At the end of the day, you assure him that you had the best time and it was very fun. Which he doesn’t really believe because again he feels like he failed but he’s glad you had a good time.

He also stays the night hanging out with you until you fall asleep.

Trey

He would bake you a cake from scratch and decorated it with little flowers of your favorite color

He’s a really sweet guy so he would invite a couple of your close friends maybe three or four of them so that you’re not alone on your birthday and you also won’t have any leftover cake because you’ll eat it all.

A very nice and sweet get together messing around having fun

Cater

The morning would start very easy with the simple happy birthday and him taking you skateboarding you don’t have to go to a skating park or anything like that he’s just gonna teach you a couple of tricks.

But progressively throughout the day, it gets more centric and fun

At the end of the night can you both watch fireworks after you’ve just got done bungee jumping...

Leona

He’s not going to skip his morning to afternoon nap to tell you happy birthday even if he does care

A prince got to get his beauty sleep

When he wakes up he goes and attempts to find you and if he doesn’t he just goes man and gives up but if he does find you he tells you happy birthday and then walks off

Depending on your relationship with him he could be very distant and not caring but if you go and hang out with him during the afternoon when he’s not sleeping he’s pretty chill about it not really caring that you’re there if you have a negative disposition towards him he might care and tell you to leave.

Ruggie

He would take you shopping for the day

You might think he doesn’t have any money but those are jobs that he’s been working aren’t for nothing

He took all of the money he could for an entire month of work and saved it up spending it on your birthday

“What?! this is only part of my savings, not my entire Life funds” hehe...

Jack

Since magic mirrors make travel very easy he decides to take you back to his hometown

Not to meet his parents or anything but just to hang out because he talks about home a lot and wants to take you. What better time than your birthday

He takes you around his town and tells you about all of these places that he has memories that as well as putting you in the general direction of where he lives

He takes you to do all the fun things you can think of where he lives

When you both go back tonight NRC he quickly takes you by his dorm so he can grab something

He comes back with his gift to you which is a little cactus for you to take care of.

Azul

He wouldn’t have a birthday party for you

He would however have you meet him in the lounge

you two would have dinner together

Just the two of you...

you’ll take a walk through dorms halls just to talk in this moment you share alone

Jade

He would hang out with you if you wanted him to if you didn’t want him to he would tell you to go hang out with your friends since it is your special day

He would give you some sort of terrarium or if you’re not into those he would give you a rare plant for you to take care of as a gift

If you did want to hang out with him and you didn’t care where you went he’d invite you to a botanical garden for the day.

Whether you like it or not he’ll probably talk on and on about each plant and its properties in medicine and poison

Floyd

He would throw a great surprise birthday party for you

He’s got all of your favorite foods your favorite drink an awesome cake

And somehow he surprisingly kept this under wraps until the time of your birthday party

It would be in you’re dorm, and don’t worry afterward he would help you clean up the mess

When you walk in the door he has everyone holding confetti launchers... which he 100% is going to help you clean up after a lot of convincing

Kalim

This man knows how to throw parties and that’s terrifying

He would throw a massive party for you

He’s inviting all of NRC as long as they’re friends with you. Hell if you had friends in RSA he would invite them too.

He would have one of your other friends distract you for the day because it’s going to take the entire day to set up this banquet

He’s got everything a giant cake, fancy lights, a lounge area, a DJ, a chocolate fountain anything and everything that you would need for a successful party

Throughout the day if you try to go see him at all somebody’s always there to stop you and to distract you

You guys party for the whole night

Jamil

He would not throw a birthday party for you

As we all know he’s not really a people person

Chill about it passes you in the hall and says happy birthday

He offers to make you dinner but if you want to you can always decline

Although there is one thing you can’t decline and that’s the magic carpet ride he wants to take you on

He wouldn’t ask to borrow the magic carpet he’d just do it

Vil

He would throw a big banquet for you regardless of what you want

He’ll probably say something along the lines of “Fufufu do you think I have the time to do all this? someone else said it was a good idea and they did all the work it’s not as if I care or have time to.” But we all know he cares

He about all of Pomefiore if you have to invite any of your friends outside of the dorm he would be a little irritated and save fine I guess you can about your “other friends”

Epel

It would be the beginning of the day and he’s down the hall in spots you. He would immediately not yell your name but scream it and run to you yelling happy birthday. It would make quite the scene but he wants everyone to know that it’s your birthday and also Vil would probably hate the fact that he just screamed.

He asks you if you’re ready to “rock and roll” (for anyone who doesn’t know this is just a saying to ask if you’re “ready to go”)

He’s taking you on a trip to go do a bunch of fun stuff in town and to probably prank some people because why not.

Rook

Wouldn’t throw you a party instead he would probably stop by your dorm and announce his presence and sing you happy birthday.

Bring you some sort of small gift

He would tell you that he will follow you the whole day and you can do whatever you want with him

Rook is rather chill compared to some of the other boys. However, if you want him to he can take over because he’s kept note of what you like to do so he would take you to do things that you like.

Idia

He wouldn’t do anything special for your birthday

In fact, he’d probably have Ortho buy three slices of cake only, for the three of you

Throughout the day he doesn’t say anything about it

When you go to his dorm later he tells you happy birthday you guys eat the cake together

He kind of half-heartedly apologizes for not being able to throw a proper birthday party for you and that he’s sorry but his anxiety kind of got the best of him.

To make up for it he offers to play games with him until you want to leave

Before you leave he gives you a flower. An Asphodel The primary symbolic meaning of the Asphodel flower is peace after death and the afterlife, but this is not the meaning that is implied it is a white flower which generally symbolizes purity also it’s a symbolic flower of Hades

Ortho

He throws a big party at your dorm (if your dorm is Ignihyde he’d take it somewhere else), not ignihyde. Because the students are quite antisocial and it would be very disruptive.

He would invite all of your best friends

It is the cutest surprise birthday party ever

There would be fireworks, trick candles, and so many fun childish games that you would play at a party

Malleus

Malleus is somewhere in between depending on what you want so no this won’t be a surprise birthday

He’ll either throw a big party for you in the diasomnia dorm inviting basically everyone from all the dorms as long as they know you

Or if you’re more on the reserve side or you want a smaller party he’ll have a couple of your close friends join him and going to your dorm and having a get-together little party for you.

If you want to though he is 100% okay with just you and him hanging out for the day

Sebek

This man is crazy

He wrote down your birthday and planned weeks in advance

He would write down everything that you like in hopes that when it becomes your birthday he has everything that you could ever want on that day

He tries his best to bake a cake but then realizes that he’s actually really good at it

On the day of you’d think that he be really loud and excitable and overbearing but in fact, he is the complete opposite being very considerate and not quiet but an inside voice because he doesn’t want to stress you out or seem disingenuous.

He doesn’t host a party for all of your friends it’s just you and him. The reason for this and putting in so much effort just for you and him is because he’s rather shy when it comes to not just romantic feelings but platonic feelings as well not showing people how he really feels especially when it’s around other people as well. So it’s kind of to make himself feel more comfortable as well

Silver

Silver isn’t the party kind of person so he’ll probably get you a cute little gift like a bouquet of roses specifically white roses to symbolize purity or maybe a charm bracelet.

It’s not that he doesn’t want to throw you a birthday party it’s just that he doesn’t know how to go about it since the only parties ever really celebrated is his own because of Lilia when he was younger.

If you say something about not having a party or a cake he’ll get a little sad thinking that he might have failed you.

He’ll probably just follow you around doing whatever you wanted for the day as long as you didn’t have class.

He would also have a cute little lunch with you of food that he made before. You guys would probably go sit in the courtyard and eat next to a tree. Be careful though he may or may not fall asleep...

You might have to wake you’re sleeping, Prince

Lilia

He’ll invite you to a concert and then right as the performance is about to start he’ll say something like he has to use the restroom or he’s going to get a drink and he’ll be right back he promises.

As the performance is starting and the lights turn off you start to worry that he’s going to miss it

And then as the stage lights turn on and you see him on stage getting ready to perform

He’s going to perform an entire album that he and the light music club came up with for you as a birthday gift

Knowing him at the end of the performance he’s probably going to get off the stage to go and kiss you (Not necessarily on the lips if it’s a platonic relationship it’s probably on the forehead with the cheek as a sign of affection no love).

[remakethestars]

CABIN 7 — APOLLO

Headcanons.

❝There ought to be more drama, I think. A musical crescendo. Confetti.❞

— Jess Cooper, I Am Still Alive

Headcanon masterlist.

Oh, boy — this is my cabin, y'all; buckle up! 😁

Not all Apollo kids are good at everything their dad's good at, okay? I sure as heck can’t paint or play an instrument. 

TRIGGER WARNING: mentions of violence?

They run an underground tattoo parlor.

That's where Will & Butch got their respective sun & rainbow tats.

Apollo kids with lyrics tattooed into their skin.

Rick says there isn't much by way of décor inside, which is f*in' B.S. Apollo's the god of art; those walls have been graffitied Tangled style.

🎶 i'll paint the walls some more — i'm sure there's room somewhere! 🎶

The east wall is covered in a landscape of a sunrise, & the west has a sunset (because the sun rises in the east & sets in the — yeah, I'll see myself out).

The north & south walls & the ceiling are white, though, because it really brightens/opens up the space (C7 has the 2ⁿᵈ most campers under C11 because Apollo's a slut; things can get a little crowded in the summer).

When there’re celebrations, the artistically inclined kids bust out the face paint. Especially for the younger campers.

The artistically inclined are the ones that paint the camp beads for the end of the summer. Despite the numbers, it doesn’t take them as long as one might think.

Rick said the ceiling had cedar beams, but we're not gonna do Cyparissius dirty like that. Cypress wood is good for building; the beams are cypress. You know what? F*ck you — the whole dang cabin's cypress!

There’s a massive, potted aloe vera plant by the steps that gets moved into the C4 greenhouse in the winter. It’s one of those old ones — because everyone knows the old aloe plants work better for burns & blisters than these sh¡tty new ones. (It’s constantly getting broken off to heal burns & stuff.) 

Rick said there are potted red & purple hyacinths in the window & yellow flowers from Delos. That's true.

I'd say the flowerbeds around the cabin are full of healing plants, but I feel like they'd be better off around the infirmary for obvious reasons.

I do feel like there's a laurel tree planted outside C7, though, because Apollo's a pining b¡tch.

And there's an actual infirmary building, okay? Rick's kinda inconsistent about that. Sometimes he says "infirmary," sometimes he says the Big House is running over with injured, & apparently there's a cot dead center for injured in C7? B.S.

Or maybe I've just read too much fanfic, and the authors don't get it right?

Either way, there's an infirmary building with surgery & delivery rooms. One floor. Locker room for C7 kids to store their scrubs & sh¡t.

They go for yellow scrubs, though, because orange C.H.B. scrubs make them look like escaped convicts.

Fun Band-Aids™

They give out little orange stickers with laurels around the edges that are like I voted! stickers, but they're injury-specific.

I got my leg(s) reattached! & Percy Jackson shot me in the butt! & I ticked off Clarisse! & I made out with an Aphrodite kid in the poison ivy! & I fell off the lava wall! & I got pranked by the Stolls!

After a war or just when there’re a lot of campers in the infirmary, there seems to be a constant flow of Apollo kids singing one hymn to their father in unison to heal someone.

Sometimes, an unconscious camper wakes in a cot & thinks they’ve died & gone to the wrong afterlife for a moment because their singing sounds like angels. 

The medically inclined wash their hands like surgeons. 

Kind of germophobic?

They also go around tying surgeons knots in everything.

In the summer, they’re walking Banana Boat sunscreen & after-sun aloe lotion dispensers.

The medically inclined also have the world’s sh¡ttiest handwriting.

They have to work hard to fix it if it bothers them. 

Can check your vitals & run a blood test just by touching you.

A lot of them casually touch their loved ones (at least, the ones that aren’t in C7) every morning to check their vitals & see how their health’s doing.

They do it subconsciously every time they touch someone & don’t notice it until they pick up something’s wrong.

They can do this for themselves as well. Though it may not be as accurate? And they take daily vitamins depending on what they need.

Organize their lives via pill box (never lose an earring).

Fight surgically. Every blade in their hands becomes a scalpel, & every time they’re going in for a kill against an armed anthropomorphic monster, they slice the tendons in its arm required to grip its weapon to disable it before going in for the kill.

Back to C7, it’s got a little porch with a porch swing. The kids sit on it sometimes & teach people how to play instruments.

They leave the porch light on at night when they’re waiting for one of their siblings to come home from a quest.

Jumping into the depressing sh¡t, they never found Michael’s body, so they only presumed him dead. They leave the porch light on every night now, hoping he’ll come home.

Apollo kids are afraid of the dark. They use the buddy system after the sun goes down. 

The cabin’s central light fixture is a papier-mâché sun that’s been charmed to glow when someone sings 🎶 clap on 🎶 & stop glowing when someone sings 🎶 clap off. 🎶

The curtains are a gold fabric. They’re only closed at night. Because, again, C7 kids are afraid of the dark.

The Wikipedia says Apollo kids are cursed to be afraid of snakes (I assume by the Python Apollo killed). I feel like they’d burn a lot of aster leaves then. I read somewhere it was said by the Greeks to ward off evil spirits & snakes.

They play Go Fish with their tarot cards. They’re really good at tarot games.

Hand-drawn tarot decks featuring figures form Greek myth.

There’s a target on the back wall they practice throwing cards at. They can throw them in combat for a distraction with terrifying accuracy. 

There’s a Magic 8 ball that’s passed around on the Winter Solstice (the longest night of the year), when — as a headcanon I’m sure I’ve read somewhere has indicated — they’re up all night.

Crystal balls are allowed. However, they must be covered with a cloth or placed in a box when not in use because they’re double-convex lenses, & we don’t want another incident like the fire of 1993.

Sometimes, they make little predictions throughout the day other campers may find disturbing. Such as whipping around and catching a stray arrow without warning (spidey sense?). Or cutting you off when you’re talking about someone moments before they walk into the room.

There’s a tea cart in the corner. Because tea is good for healing & they’ve accumulated an addiction.

The cart has a radio on it that’s always on at night because a lot of C7 kids can’t sleep without noise. (Inspired by @sugarandspiceandkindanice.)

Most of the time, it’s on a nearby country station that actually plays good country at night. But sometimes they switch channels — especially when there’s a new kid settling in & they could use the comfort.

There’s a portable record player there too. The shelves under the cart are full of C.D.s & records.

I’m sure I’ve read a headcanon somewhere that they sing every morning while getting ready for the day. That’s true.

The number of times it’s been “When Will My Life Begin” from Tangled is disturbing, though. 

🎶 seven a.m., the usual morning lineup! 🎶

Luke said in The Lightning Thief C11 is up at 07:00 & breakfast is at 08:00, I think, but we all know Apollo’s waking his kids up when the sun rises. 

A lot of the time, someone will just start out with whatever song they have stuck in their head & everyone else will pick it up.

Sometimes, this leads to members having the aforementioned song stuck in their head for the rest of the day.

Even the people who aren’t musically inclined will sing along, as they’re usually drowned out by the music kids that get really into it.

So sometimes those not-music kids will find themselves singing by themselves during the day years later & are surprised to find — they actually sound good?? Or at least not bad??? And it’s because singing is a learned skill & they picked it up.

I’m sure I’ve also read a headcanon somewhere that they sing “Look Down” from Les Mis when they have to do menial chores, but I'm adding “It’s a Hard-Knock Life” from Annie, “Whistle While You Work” from Snow White, “Happy Working Song” from Enchanted, & the Smurf song.

They break into song all the time.

Lee was glaring at Tantalus once & made the mistake of saying, “Sometimes, I wish —” and the entire cabin broke out with “Bohemian Rhapsody.”

🎶 — i'd never been born at all! carry on, carry on… 🎶

As mentioned in at least The Lightning Thief & The Lost Hero, they spend a lot of time playing basketball. You can bet your butt they do a rendition of “Getcha Head in the Game” from High School Musical every time there’s a new camper passing by.

They have a sister named Jubilee, and every time someone greets her — "Hey, Jube!" — the entire cabin breaks into “Hey, Jude” by The Beetles.

🎶 hey, Jube! don't make it bad. take a sad song & make it better… 🎶

Sometimes, if there are two campers that really need to get together, C10′ll commission C7 to sing “Kiss the Girl” from The Little Mermaid (or the same song with different pronouns, obviously). 

It’s usually a capella unless someone happens to have an instrument on them.

Rickrolling. 

The “Macarena.” 

Apollo takes clandestine recordings of their jam sessions & distributes them professionally. Whatever money’s made goes directly into their college funds or they periodically find it under their pillow tooth-fairy-style.

There’s a lot of denim because the artistic members like to paint on the backs of jackets & the pockets of jeans.

A lot of them have excellent aim with most projectiles, so they toss stuff to each other a lot. This results in them being oddly in sync, so they can catch something from another sibling without warning & without looking like Sam & Dean Winchester do in Supernatural. 

Their life looks like a Dude Perfect trick shot video. 

It also results in some funny looks when they hurl things halfway across camp to each other. Namely, the whistling Nerf football. 

C7 is two stories. The second story has paint on every wall. 

The east wall upstairs has arrows mounted that got Robin Hooded along with a little tag with the name of the C7 kid & the date it happened.

They also have arrows mounted from the first bullseye if there’s a member being taught. 

Lots of musical instruments & art supplies up there.

There’s an old T.V. up there. They have all of Bob Ross’s show on V.H.S.

C7′s south wall (ground floor) holds the door to the bathroom on one side & a door leading to the stairs. 

It also hosts framed photos of Charlotte, Lee, & Michael.

Instead of saying “shoot,” they say “loose.” For everything. Instead of saying “Shoot!” when they drop something, they say “Loose!” 

It's kinda one of those things — like your friend starts saying something & you just integrate it into your vocabulary subconsciously.

They like to play a game where you shoot an arrow straight up & try to catch it as it comes back down.

That sounds really stupid on their part, but it actually comes in handy when someone tries to shoot them in combat & they catch the arrow, dumbfounding whoever's attempted to skewer them.

The cresting on their arrows is in Morse code of their nickname (·—— ·· ·—·· ·—··). They can take one look at an arrow & tell what’s whose.

And the paint color of the cresting tells them what kind of arrow it is — bullet tip, broadhead, explosive, etc. 

Every bunk in C7 is made with hospital corners. No exceptions. The kids who aren’t medically inclined learn because all the beds being made the same way makes it look cleaner for inspection.

I can’t decide if Apollo kids have really good eyesight so they fit the Hawkeye bill or if they’ve all just read — Apollo’s the god of knowledge — & painted so much they’ve messed up their eyes.

The number of times one of them has used bowstring wax on an art project in a rush instead of glue is hilariously large.

I use String Snot, and it comes in a container that looks like a glue stick.

A lot of them wear bracers all the time.

When the time it takes to sling one’s quiver onto one’s back, grab one’s bow, knock an arrow, & draw is so long, one really doesn’t have time to also strap on their bracers before rushing out of the cabin to threaten a giant bronze dragon.

Not to mention if they use a recurve, they’ll also have to string their bow.

And a number of them do use recurves due to the abilities to both knock multiple arrows at once & to restring in the field.

Bows with risers coated in golden, reflective paint & limbs painted with artistic strokes.

Trick arrows are their jam. C9 is constantly being asked for new arrows.

Explosive arrows, sonic arrows, grappling hook arrows…

That’s another saying they’ve all taken to: “___ is my jam!”

There’s a bookshelf or reference material on Apollo for new C7 kids (as Rick’s indicated), but the rest of the case is full of medical journals & textbooks & books on art & poetry & divining the future.

A lot — if not all — of them have either gold flecks in their eyes or central heterochromia.

Freckles across their noses & shoulders & on the tips of their ears. Tans. Sun-bleached hair. 

Long, nimble fingers perfect for playing musical instruments.

Either they hate the winter because the sun's out for less time (so you’ll find them walking around with blanched skin & faded freckles & with both a hoody & a parka on), or they’re perfectly fine with winter & are used by everyone around them as walking space heaters. 

They spend a lot of time with Castor & Pollux. 

Rachel sits at T7. She’s practically an Apollo kid at this point. 

While her cave was being renovated, she stayed in C7.

Their dad’s the god of truth; none of these M.F.s can lie worth a sh¡t. 

But, by the gods, they can tell when you’re lying.

And they take it as a personal insult. That you (A) would dare do something as immoral as lying in the first place & that you (B) would dare to insult their intelligence in such a way because you thought they couldn’t tell.

C6 & C7 are both known for reacting outrageously when their intelligence is insulted (see: chapter 10 of The Battle of the Labyrinth). 

The more civil of the reactions of a C7 kid being lied to is cursing the liar to tell the truth, which I believe they can. 

They can curse you to speak in rhyming couplets; they should be able to curse you to tell the truth.

You mean to tell me none of these kids have created a functioning Lasso of Truth yet?

This one's really long. 😅

A lot of people fancast Sam Claflin as Apollo, but I'm going with Ross Lynch. 'Cause I do what I want. 😎

Visit my Apollo cabin Pinterest board or my headcanon masterlist.

DISCLAIMER ━━━ These headcanons are what I consider to be canon in my fanfictions. They may be others’s headcanons I’ve subconsciously filed away in my noggin. If one’s yours and you want it removed or credited, please send me your post and let me know.

[kinnsporsche]

no words for this episode!! i’m absolutely speechless!! it killed me and i went to heaven. typing this from the afterlife. this was the cutest, softest most perfect episode ever. god I love the honeymoon phase. they were so giddy and in love and horny <3. it was a much needed episode for my heart. their date was adorable and I loved how p was asking for advise because he wanted it to be perfect <3 but kinn was just happy to spend time with him and indulge him with his photos bc he loves him 1/4

I also love the running joke of the other bodyguards thinking he always gets punished. yeah I’m sure his legs were shaking but not why you think :) also, who’s doing product placement like kinnporsche? I never wanted to buy bread so bad in my life. I literally can’t say anything else except that it was a perfectly cute episode. one thing that was a little weird is kim saying p could be korn’s son or something? wtf is up with that? I really hope that was just a throwaway comment but idk why they would even suggest that. anyway, I don’t even want to think about the possibility so I will choose to ignore it. and kim!! boy you’re on thin fucking ice. I just know he’s gonna break porchay’s heart real soon and I’m not ready for it. however, I’m more than ready for a little tawan drama. I’m actually feeling better about this storyline since we found out that k didn’t shoot him out of jealousy. he deserved to get shot for betraying him like that lol I’m curious how he survived or what went down exactly and why he’s back. also, I was dying to see some vegaspete but that didn’t happen so I’m a little disappointed but oh well. it was a perfect episode for kp’s relationship so I’m not complaining. looking forward to the pool scene next week 👀

kp anon unfortunately its illegal for u to die how do u expect me to live without your asks hm? illegal come back to me right now

porsche asking for dating advice because it's his first real relationship and he wants it to be good for kinn is something that can actually be really personal. god and his little self-deprication creeping in at the end of it when his plans kinda got ruined and kinn's just there with the fattest fucking grin on his face because this is the best date he's ever had. and i thought about this during the week but, porsche being the one to take kinn out is probably something he's also never had before, you know? he has money, he's fucking loaded, so he's always the one buying people things, probably was the one who took tawan out, etc. but porsche is like nope, fuck that, it never ben occured to him that kinn would be the one to do all this, HE'S the one who wants to take KINN out and i bet kinn's never had that before i bet it made his heart do dangerous things!! and yes!! the photos god, the way his mafia boss persona just drops around porsche when they're alone, he's just this guy who'll do anything to make his boyfriend happy, he's so whipped for him im 🥺🥺

NOVEL SPOILERS NOVEL SPOILERS NOVEL SPOILERS

from what i've seen/can remember from what i've been told in the novel (🤮) there's an actual angsty sub-plot about them potentially being related (they're not in the end) so im guessing the show was just lowkey throwing shade at that? bcs i really doubt boc would go there after all the changes they've made to the series so far. and also, re: vegaspete, in the novel that starts around the same time as the tawan sl so it will probably pick up this episode or next episode!!

i know a lot of people were calling this episode a filler which is such a disservice because it's such a necessary episode? how are we expected to root for a couple that are only thrown together in life-or-death situations without getting to see their progress, without getting to see their softness when they're with each other, without getting to see their feelings, without getting to see how the two of them could just be if their lives weren't entangled in such a mess, you know? just because it didn't necessarily drive the plot forward a huge amount doesn't automatically make it a filler episode!

and i know a lot of people are also worried about tawan coming between them but i genuinley dont have a single worry about that. kinn is so GONE in porsche, and he's aware of the fact that tawan never loved him, idk why people think he would possibly even think about going back to him? is tawan going to get into porsche's head? yeah, absolutely. but i have no doubt that kinn's gonna prove his devotion and probably bang all of porsche's insecurities out of him so he cant use his legs for approximately 48 hours 🥰🥰 whether that pisses tawan off more and makes him do something more drastic to get to them both idk im not sure yet but everybody even tawan's actor keep saying how much of a bastard he is so 👀 lets go villain arc

[vanaera]

Defining Epilogues (ksj)

Synopsis:  Seokjin thinks he could always see the end of something before it even comes. When an annoying girl starts to rent the weirdest books from his shop, all Seokjin could see is how she will be the one to end him.

Characters: Seokjin x Female Reader

Trope/Au: Book rental shop owner!ksj x animator/artist!you (onesided enemies to lovers)

Genre: Fluff, comedy that’s close to crack

Wordcount: 6.3k

Warnings: Books with weird titles and secondhand-embarrassment-inducing sfw sex jokes (PG-15 Rating)

A/N: Happy birthday to my best girl @sophrosinn!!!  This is my gift for you! This fic is done with the great help of the ever wonderful @senfleurs who edited this story and stayed with me for the past 24 hours while I cry, laugh, and panic writing this fic! This fic also ended up helping me ride out a massive writer’s block.

            If Seokjin ever prides himself for something, it’s on his ability to tell how things will end the moment he sees them. He can tell when someone is about to fail their exam. He can sense a fight within a crowd before it even happens. He can stand at the end of the street and know the woman with the umbrella is about to break up with her boyfriend. And it always ends with Seokjin being right.

          Seokjin’s thankful for this skill because he’s been able to learn when it’s the right time to pursue something or when it’s time to give up. If it weren’t for this ability, he would have not been able to accomplish his dream of having a book rental shop that actually sells. Seokjin just didn’t expect he would have to start thinking twice about this skill soon after his shop’s opening. All because of a Y/N L/N who appears in his life like a wild Pokemon.

          From the start, Seokjin was already certain of one thing: Y/N is far from his type. For one, he didn’t even like having her as a customer.

            “Hey, I think that girl’s been staring at our way for three hours now. Are you sure I’m not supposed to go help her out?”

            Seokjin turns around to face his assistant and he hates that he’s able to see that girl from his peripheral. Seokjin shakes his head and turns back to the new books he’s been putting on the database, “I’m sure, Jungkook. Go back to work.”

            “Are you really sure? I think she’s the type who’s too shy to ask for help and instead, hopes to send a telepathic message by burning holes on our heads.”

            “I’m sure, Jungkook,” Seokjin repeats with a sigh. “Now why don’t you try working on that next book instead of stalling?”

            “I’m not stalling—”

            “Hello. I want to borrow this book.”

            Seokjin looks up from his counter. The girl stands in front of him, staring straight into his eyes as she pushes the book his way.

          Natural bust enlargement with total mind power: How to use the other 90% of your mind to increase the size of your breasts by Donald Wilson.

            Seokjin looks back at his work and sighs, “Jungkook, get this.”

            Jungkook picks up the book. He must have been taken aback as he looks at Seokjin, confused.

          Seokjin closes his eyes and waves him off. “Don’t even ask. Just do the usual.”

            “Okay,” Jungkook says. “Uh, ma’am, please write your name here. Okay, so Ms. Y/N L/N, you’re gonna return this—wait, you’ve been borrowing this book for three weeks?

            “Yes. Why?”

            “U-um, n-nothing. Just curious. It only has 141 pages and you’re not, um, finished yet?”

            “Well, I want to learn more about how to mind control my breasts to make them bigger.”

            “Uhh…”

            “Alright,” Seokjin stands up and nudges Jungkook away. “Ms. Y/N L/N, you’ll need to return this book five days from now, on March 23rd.” Seokjin slams his date stamp on the paper. “If you fail to return this book on time, we’ll have to charge you $1 for every day past the due date. And if the copy gets destroyed or lost, we’ll also have to charge you. Understood?”

            “Yep.”

            “Now, that will be $17.”

            Y/N places the money on the counter and heads for the door. But she doesn’t leave without sending one last stare into Seokjin’s way.

            Seokjin plops back down on his seat and clicks his tongue. “She didn’t read the book again.”

            Jungkook rolls his chair next to him and asks “Aren’t you being judgmental? Maybe she’s just a slow reader.”

            “No, she does not read it. The author didn’t mean literal mind control as she said. The book is about conditioning your mindset to a more positive view of your body image.”

            Jungkook looks at him with his forehead scrunched, “Wait, you’ve read that book?”

            Seokjin’s lips turn into a frown and he rolls his chair away from his assistant. “Don’t even ask.”

            When Seokjin first met Y/N L/N, he was convinced that she’d be the type of customer he’d hate the most. The type that comes in, picks a book, stays for god knows long, and leaves without borrowing anything. She used to do this back when she first came to his shop within its first week of opening. She kept the tradition strong for a solid month, and Seokjin was convinced that some highschoolers noticed her behavior and attempted to use his shop as their new hangout spot. He’s glad his shop was getting packed as the days went on. It’s just a different story when a hoard of teens started flocking around his shop without renting anything and prevented actual renters from entering his shop. Seokjin had to put up “No loitering” and “Maximum of 3 hours stay” signs on his windows to end this money-ripping tactic once and for all. 

          That didn’t seem to stop Y/N, though, as she would still come to his shop to pick a book to read right in front of his face without ever renting it. This time, however, she made sure to follow the three hours maximum to avoid getting called out. This went on for another week until Seokjin decided he had to talk with her about this. That didn’t end as well as he had hoped, as Y/N just looked at him straight in the eye and left immediately after he got his last word out. 

          Seokjin remembers getting so embarrassed at how he unknowingly did a monologue to a single-person audience. He wasn’t left mulling over it for long as Y/N came back the next day and actually began to rent a book. She still stays the three hours max limit most of the days but she doesn’t let a week pass without renting a book. She also manages to lower her ‘miser’ type level to the ‘weird borrower’ level in Seokjin’s annoyance scale. Having a customer with a renting history surrounding the most ridiculous-sounding books is much better than having them rent none at all. 

          Albeit, that’s a bit of a stretch, too, as Seokjin finds out that Y/N’s not exactly the weird borrower type, but the weird borrower who comes again on time just to rent the same book for weeks. And she doesn’t even read them. Seokjin confirms it one night when Y/N came to his shop a minutes-breadth away from the closing time.

          “Wait!” Y/N screams, running towards the shop.

          Seokjin stops pulling down the metal gate to give her a glare, “I’m already closing, L/N. Come back tomorrow.”

          “But I have to borrow something!”

          “Oh no you don’t—”

          It’s too late though, as Y/N slips under Seokjin's elbow and pushes the unlocked glass door open.

          Hearing his bell on the counter ring for consecutive times from the incessant taps of the infamous L/N, Seokjin knows he’s already lost the fight. He sighs as he makes his way back to the counter.

          “What do you want?”

          “This,” Y/N smiles. 

          The Beginner’s Guide to Sex in the Afterlife by David Staume.

          Seokjin eyes her as he picks up the book, “This again? You’re still not done reading 164 pages after, what, two months?”

          Y/N gulps as she clasps her hands in front of her, “Well, um, I still don’t get how people engage in sexual intercourse in the afterlife.”

          Seokjin decides not to reply and continues to do his job.

          “If they believe in a god. Or gods. Wouldn’t they worry about their god seeing them do...lewd stuff?”

          Seokjin feels his right eye start to twitch.

          “Unless...their god is a sex god?”

          Seokjin closes the book louder than necessary. He pins Y/N with a glare. “Look, Y/N. This book is about sexual energy transcending material life and even moving to the astral world. Just like how people pass away. What made you think that this book was about literally having sex in the afterlife?”

          Y/N looks at him with wide eyes, “You read the book?”

          Seokjin scowls. “Don’t turn this on me. We’re talking about you. Why do you keep borrowing books you don’t even read?” 

          Y/N looks at him then back at her clasped hands. “You don’t have to know,” she mutters under her breath, taking Seokjin by shock when she slams the payment on the counter and leans over to stamp the renting slip with the due date herself.

          Seokjin tries to call after her retreating figure by the door. “Wait, I didn’t even tell you the—”

          “Yeah, $1 for each day after the due date and you’re gonna charge my card if I destroy the book,” Y/N yells over her shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’m gonna come back on time!”

          Seokjin pales in his seat. Her announcement sounded like a death sentence.

          He wishes he wasn’t so easily bothered at the slightest of things Y/N said. He wishes he didn’t spend too much time deciphering a way to stop her. Most of all, he wishes he didn’t become too intrigued by her to the point he’s started to care about what she’s actually doing.

          And Seokjin hates it. He hates how he stresses himself reading the books Y/N borrows. He hates how he wastes his time trying to re-arrange the books in the shelves just so Y/N would start picking books with titles that actually made sense (which he learned is futile as Y/N had a penchant for finding weird books around his shop whenever and wherever). And, Seokjin hates how he basically studied her long enough to memorize her pattern. Long enough to realize that underneath all that weird borrowing behavior, Y/N just comes to his shop to stare at him. Moreover, Seokjin hates how he confirmed it with a friend.

          “Y/N must be making you quite busy, no?” Jimin asks over a mug of coffee.

          “You know her?” Seokjin asks in disbelief.

          “Yeah,” Jimin nods, “I’m friends with her. I consulted their animation company for the ad I told you I was making for Books to Tell. She was the one who assisted me and we just clicked. Especially after I learned that she’s also friends with Namjoon.”

          Seokjin’s eyes go wide, “She’s also friends with Namjoon?!”

          “Yeah, they kinda knew each other in college. Why are you so shocked? You were in the same major as Namjoon. You could have seen her with him around uni.”

          “Uh, no, I didn’t.”

          Jimin rubs his chin and shrugs, “Well, it’s a small world then. So, how is she? I actually told her to go visit your shop when you first opened.”

          Seokjin chokes on his coffee and Jimin hurries to pat his back. “God, why are you like this today? Is something wrong—"

          “How come you’re just telling me all of this now?!” Seokjin cuts his friend with a glare, making Jimin jolt in surprise.

          “W-what? Was I supposed to tell you about this earlier?”

          “Yes! Y/N’s been annoying me for four months now!”

          “I…didn’t know about that,” Jimin steps back and sits in his chair. “I just told her to take a look at your shop and she said ‘okay.’ She didn’t say anything after that so I figured it left her mind. I didn’t know she was a regular in your shop. She just brought it up again yesterday when she told me how…” Jimin zips his lips and shrugs.

          “How what?”

          “...how she likes your face.”

          Seokjin chokes again. This time on his own spit. He should have seen this coming. He was long aware that some of his renters only went into his shop to get a look at his face. Even if he had to suffer through the tedious cycle of rejecting their queries for his number and offers of coffee, some of them ended up as his regulars. Seokjin didn’t mind. Money is money after all. He just didn’t expect Y/N to be like them after all the months he spent trying to decode her actual intentions.

          Seokjin tried to brush Y/N off just like he did with the previous renters. Although she hasn’t pulled off anything yet, Seokjin believes it’s better to set things straight before it happens. The sooner he ends this, the faster he’ll find his peace again.

          Seokjin hired his neighbor, Jungkook, who’s been bugging him for a part-time job for so long and made him his assistant. He entrusted him with entertaining the customers so Seokjin wouldn’t have to deal with Y/N bugging him anymore. And like always, that plan goes down the drain because Y/N always, always ends up in front of Seokjin even when he’s countlessly told her to go to Jungkook.

          Seokjin’s tired of stressing over her so he forces himself to ignore her and the ridiculous books she borrows. But even that proves to be hard when Y/N hasn’t even done anything untoward but to stare at him from time to time. And give him a headache with the books she borrows like The Stray Shopping Carts of Eastern North America by Julian Montague, 50 Sad Chairs by Bill Keaggu, and Collectible Spoons of the Third Reich by James Yannes. For after all the progress he thought he’s put in, Seokjin still finds himself reading these books all because of a goddamn curiosity he couldn’t put down.

          It becomes harder when Namjoon and his friends pick up Seokjin’s weird setup with Y/N. And mutual friends being the annoying mutual friends they are, Namjoon and the gang begins to invite him and Y/N to hangout.

          “Why is she here?” Seokjin mutters to Namjoon the moment he sees their table.

          “Who?”

          “You know who.”

          “Oh, Y/N,” Namjoon prolongs the syllable as if her name is the most amazing thing ever. Seokjin grimaces. “Why? You got a problem with her?”

          “No,” Seokjin instantly denies. “I’m just asking why you invited her. It used to be just us for so long.”

          “Yeah, it’s always been just us that’s why it became boring.”

          “Boring?”

          “Yeah, I’m getting tired of your face,” Namjoon chuckles, stepping ahead of Seokjin. “Besides, what’s wrong with adding a new friend? Y/N is cool.”

          Oh hell yeah, Y/N is cool. She beams at Seokjin like she always does as if their legs weren’t just casually touching after their friends made it a point to choose a cramped barbecue restaurant and sit the two of them next to each other.

          “So Seokjin, I heard you and Y/N are getting close,” Namjoon starts and Hoseok hoots in support.

          Jimin, being as annoying as ever decides to ride in too. “Yeah, why don’t you tell us how you met.”

          “I was doing my business and Y/N just rented a book. That is all,” Seokjin says dismissively as he grabs his shot glass and downs the gin in one go.

          “Are you sure, that’s all, Seokjin?” Rose leans forward, grinning, “Maybe you’re hiding something from us.”

          “I’m not—”

          “He’s not hiding anything. That’s true.”

          The table pauses as all eyes dart to Y/N. A wave of self-consciousness washes over her and she directs her focus back on her clasped hands on the table, “S-Seokjin’s right. I just rent books from him.”

          Seokjin glances at Y/N then back at his drink. It’s the first time she actually addressed him that night after engaging animatedly with Namjoon, Jimin, and Rose for the past hour. The table nods slowly and Seokjin guesses they’re already about to drop the subject. Seokjin’s lips tug in a small smile. Maybe tonight’s not gonna go as bad as he initially thought.

          However, Jungkook,  being the ever-living oblivious fuck that he, must’ve not gotten the memo, decides to stir up the subject again.

          “No, I don’t think so. Seokjin and Y/N do have something going on. I catch Y/N constantly looking his way and Seokjin for some reason, knows every single weird-ass book Y/N borrows.”

          Seokjin’s lips part in shock. Jeon Jungkook did not just give him away like that. “Of course, I’ll know those books. I bought them to rent them to people. That’s my business!”

          Jungkook blinks. “But you know every single detail about them.”

          The table goes silent. It doesn’t last very long, though, as Rose and Jimin break into simultaneous laughter while Namjoon repeatedly slaps his thigh. Hoseok shoots, “Oh my god, you must’ve kept on buying books with weird titles just to keep Y/N borrowing!”

          “What? I did not!” Seokjin yells but his voice is lost in the sea of laughter and teasing. Seeing as there’s no hope in making his friends stop anytime soon, Seokjin decides to lean on his seat and cross his arms in silence. His friends are going to jump onto another topic eventually. Looking at his empty plate, his eyes glance at the person who’s equally quiet next to him.

          Y/N is busy fiddling with the seams of her jacket. She looks up from time to time to their friends to wave off their playful jibes at her with a laugh.

          Seokjin feels an annoyance prick on his skin. His friends invited him over just to tease him. Seokjin is sure it’s only him because he’s the only one who’s gotten frustrated over this debacle while Y/N sits chill beside him. Y/N doesn’t even break a sweat laughing with the others as if she hasn’t been bothering him for months now. Seokjin swears he’s gonna decline the next time his friends invite him again. Or at least try to, because he’s gullible to their promises of “Hey, they’re giving out free drinks. Free is free!”

          It’s the same as that one fateful night.

            Seokjin stops in his tracks and grabs Hoseok by the shoulder. “Why is she here again?”

            “Who?”

            “Y/N.”

            Hoseok raises a brow, “Why do you keep asking this question when you already know the answer?”

            “I don’t,” Seokjin shakes his head. “I don’t know why you keep inviting her whenever I decide to join you guys.”

            “Oh, don’t be such a grump. Y/N’s our friend, too.”

          Feeling Seokjin still in his spot, Hoseok turns around and sighs, “Hey, we only see each other ‘bout twice a month, you know. Let’s have some fun, okay?”

          Seokjin should have known Hoseok’s definition of ‘fun’ is far from his as he sits across Y/N in the restaurant. All their friends out of sight.

          Hoseok started a game after dinner where everyone had to draw a piece of paper from the cup being passed around. The partners would then have to leave together in a form of a friendly date. It’s similar to seven minutes in heaven but messed up because instead of seven minutes together, they had to spend the rest of the night with the person they’ll end up picking.

          Seokjin should have known that this was all planned when Namjoon oh so coincidentally pulled Rose, who everyone knows he’s been secretly crushing on. Meanwhile, Hoseok, Jimin, and Jungkook obviously ended up drawing each other’s name just to purposely get Namjoon and Rose together. And well…him and Y/N together. Seokjin sighs as he stands up. He just had to get this done and over as quickly as he possibly could.

          “Look, Y/N—”

          “I know a good place near here.”

          Seokjin halts. He looks at the girl who’s already looking up at him with wide eyes. "There's a cafe down the block and I heard it's really nice."

          "Uhh, that sounds amazing. I guess. Look, Y/N-"

          "They let you play with board games and borrow books, too."

          Seokjin scratches his head, "Uhh, I don't know about that, Y/N. I haven't had the time to check them out yet...I mean...if those cafes are good...or bad," Seokjin internally cringes at his words. Making believable excuses was never really his forte.

          "Oh, it's good!" Y/N smiles, “I’ve tried it before and I had a really good time."

          "Uhh-"

          "It's really good. You can trust me on this.”

          “No, I can’t,” Seokjin says before he could think about it and he immediately feels the guilt pang in his heart when he sees Y/N’s eyes drop to her feet

          “That’s…okay. I'm sorry. I just wanted to make up for the days, and uh, nights I probably made you uncomfortable. I thought, maybe you'd enjoy having a few drinks at the cafe since I always see you with a to-go cup on your counter."

          Seokjin looks at her with surprise written on his face and Y/N flushes. "Sorry. I tend to observe... stuff. I’m sorry," she repeats again, voice dripping with remorse.

          Seokjin bites his lip. He didn’t mean to make her sad. He just wants to…run away from her. The reason? Well…Seokjin doesn’t exactly know why. Maybe it had to do with the feeling that nagged at him since the night started. The feeling that something may happen tonight that he wouldn’t like. He tends to prioritize his disposition because more often than not, his gut feeling has saved him countless times from unnecessary drama and unpleasantries. But for tonight, Seokjin decides to shake them off. It wouldn’t hurt to take up Y/N’s offer, right? It’s just some coffee.

             “Okay. Um, I forgive you.”

             “You do?” Y/N perks up, lips curving up again.

             Seokjin looks away, “Yeah. I think I’m being difficult, too. I’m sorry if I also made you uncomfortable.”

             Y/N waves her hands, “Oh no, don’t apologize. You don’t make me uncomfortable. Far from it, actually.”

             Seokjin doesn’t know what to say to that so he clears his throat, “Okay, so...let’s go to the cafe?”

             “Sure,” Y/N grins.

             It feels weird to walk side by side with Y/N when he’s gotten used to having a counter between them. It’s even weirder that he actually enjoyed their time together inside the cafe. The cakes were delicious, the coffee was amazing, and the books and board games were a wonderful addition. Seokjin didn’t know he'd actually have fun playing scrabble against Y/N.

             “I can’t believe I lost again!”

             Seokjin chuckles at her, “That’s because you kept using short words.”

             Well, it really is fun when he’s winning.

             Y/N pushes the game to the side, “I don’t want to play scrabble anymore.”

             “That’s okay,” Seokjin chuckles, “I can find another game I’m sure to win again.”

             The two of them fall in a comfortable silence. It’s the first time Seokjin felt this way around Y/N. For all the months she came to his shop, he did nothing but be forever on his toes around her.

             “You know...I really like your face.”

             Or maybe not. Seokjin tenses up in his seat.

             Y/N puts her hands up, “Oh, I didn’t mean it like, in a bad way. I mean, I like your face. It’s so...expressive.”

             Seokjin looks at her, confused. Expressive?

             “You’ve asked me before about why I keep on borrowing books I don’t even read and I told you that you didn’t have to know. It seems right to tell you the reason behind it now..” Y/N fiddles with her hands, “Since you’re now paying attention to me.”

             Seokjin knows this isn’t true but he doesn’t say anything.

             “You see...I’ve been fumbling around my work for so long. Well, it’s more like a personal project for now. I’ve been meaning to pitch in the idea of a lighthearted romcom series to my department. I just wanted to have a solid draft first so I could at least let them see my vision. I’m pretty bad with words. I need things to be spelled out completely and I don’t think I can do it with this one so I will have to get the drawings complete instead,” Y/N scratches her head. “I want this pitch to have a solid chance. I’ve been working on it for almost three years now. I just can’t seem to finish it because I didn’t know what to do with my lead male. Until I heard about you from Jimin.”

             “Me?” Seokjin points to himself.

             “Yeah. You have this look in your face that just exudes…greatness. It’s like you’re telling me...‘I’m a star.’”

             “Huh?”

             “What I mean is, your expressions are perfect for a leading guy!” Y/N squeals, “Oh my god, I just found the right words.”

             Seokjin laughs nervously, “Y/N, just so you know, you’re not making any sense right now.”

             Y/N cautiously fixes herself again, “Uh, what I’m trying to say is, you have this aesthetic around you that’s just perfect for the male lead I am envisioning. It’s easy for you to make various expressions that stretch from annoyance to glee and beyond. I’m really surprised at how well you could do that. If you think about it, you can be an actor if you’d like. You’re even handsome.”

             Seokjin flushes at the sudden compliment.

             Y/N continues, “And that’s that. You became my muse and I kept visiting for inspiration because I obviously couldn’t take pictures without your permission. That’s illegal.”

             Seokjin should be appalled. He’s never met a person before who said such...things aloud in the open as if they’re just talking about the weather. But here he is, looking at Y/N, and feeling at peace. Maybe it had to do with him finally getting the answers he’s been looking for for months.

             “Well, you should have just told me from the start. I wouldn’t have been...too weirded out by you.”

             “Yeah, I’m sorry. My bad,” Y/N softly laughs.

             “I thought you’re purposely messing with me with the way you pick the weirdest titles from my shop.”

             Y/N awkwardly shrugs, “Yeah, sorry ‘bout that.”

             Seokjin chuckles but halts. Why does Y/N bother to pick the weirdest titles when she can just pick from the hundreds of normal-looking books he has? She won’t even read them anyway.

             Seokjin clears his throat, “Um, Y/N, why do you always borrow the weird-looking titles?”

             Y/N’s eyes grow wide. She darts her eyes at her lap, “Uhh, I just, uh, do.”

             Seokjin isn’t convinced. No one spends time finding the weirdest of books in a shop ‘just because they do.’ Seokjin feels the familiar itch of his curiosity. He needs to know why. Only then will he probably stop finding a pattern in the ridiculous-titled books Y/N borrows.

             “Okay, you can keep doing your...inspiration thing.”

             “What?”

             “I’m not angry about what you said. You don’t have to worry. Everyone has their own inspiration. You can keep coming to my shop. After all, you’re my regular renter.”

             Y/N’s smile immediately grows into a grin, “Okay. Thank you, Seokjin.”

             Seokjin feels his chest lighten with satisfaction. But at the same time, he can’t deny the feeling that he’s probably signed himself up to something he’s unprepared for. He presses his lips together. His gut feeling was right. He doesn’t like this night.

          Seokjin confirms this when tomorrow comes as well as the following days. Y/N comes in like usual in the afternoon, maxes her three hours, and finds a book with a weird title to rent. Nothing had changed much except now, Seokjin had to see her stare at him openly and not behind a book, as she intermittently looked towards his counter then back to her sketchpad. He regrets having ever welcomed Y/N because now he thinks he’s the one who’s weird for feeling his heart pound in delight whenever Y/N looks at him.

          Seokjin hates what he’s become. He hates how he simultaneously dislikes and likes Y/N’s presence in his shop. He likes how Y/N has begun using her three hours to tell him another story from work. He likes how she makes him laugh even when her jokes don’t make any sense. He likes how easy it is for him to tell her his own stories—his dreams, his fears, his past relationships. He could even say the most ridiculous musings he ever had without feeling ashamed of it because Y/N understands. But at the same time, he can’t help but dislike how he’s started to constantly wait for her return in his shop. He hates how he instantly feels so down when he realizes Y/N won’t be able to make it to his shop. He dislikes how he finds himself oversharing stuff without feeling any guilt when all his life, he made it sure not to say to let people know too much. The more they know, the easier it is for them to inflict hurt. Because they know what part is gonna hurt the most. And so, Seokjin tells Y/N everything other than the things he feels about her. The things he really wishes to say.

          All his life, Seokjin has always anticipated seeing how things will end up. Because he knows he’s right. And he always almost is. He knows that this relationship he has with Y/N is purely transactional. Y/N just kept coming because she needs someone who’ll give her inspiration. Seokjin knows if he ever lets his feelings out, he’ll only end up breaking his own heart. He knows how this will end and yet he can’t but wish he isn’t always right. Now, he sits fearfully in anticipation of the day Y/N stops her visits as soon as she finishes what she started coming to his shop for.

          Turns out, Seokjin didn’t have to wait very long. Because on one Thursday morning, he finds a copy of Y/N's final draft on his counter and no presence of the girl. Y/N doesn't appear during the following week. Or the week after that.

          "What do I do?" Seokjin mumbles. He covers his face with his hands as he slumps on Jimin’s dining table. The rain thundering outside fits his current mood so well. Seokjin hates it.

          "Well, you shouldn't have been so hostile to her from the start," Jimin says with crossed arms.

          "Don't you think I already know that? I've already played through all the different things that could’ve happened if I didn't pick on her borrowing habit."

          "It's not that," Namjoon says. "We meant how you usually react when we invite her over to our hangouts."

          "Yeah, you always look so stiff next to Y/N even after we set you guys up on a date," Jungkook remarks. "Anyone would have looked at you and would’ve commented on how uncomfortable you looked right next to her."

          It's true. He felt uncomfortable whenever he sat beside Y/N. In his defense, it no longer felt like the uncomfort he felt when they had first met. This feeling of uncomfort felt different, it’s brought by the heat that fills his body when Y/N's leg brushes against his.

          And it didn't help that earlier that day, Y/N pulled quite a stunt on him.

          "Hey, you have something on your hair," Y/N points at his head. But before he could pick it up on his own, Y/N had already leaned over the counter and picked it away for him. She came so close that Seokjin could clearly see how long her lashes actually were and how pink and soft her lips looked. He feels his Adam's apple bob up and down.

          "There," she smiles, "All handsome again."

          Seokjin feels heat rush to his ears as he looks away.

          Seokjin looks at Jungkook, “Well, I can’t control how I feel. You know how bad I act when I’m not okay.”

          “So you’re not okay being by her side in public but you’re okay when you guys are alone?” Jungkook eyes him, “Don’t you dare deny it because I saw you guys getting chummy across the counter.

          Seokjin gulps. He knows what Jungkook is talking about. He didn’t know where and when but somewhere along the way, he and Y/N started to blur any nuance of personal space around each other. He just found it natural to tuck her hair behind her ear when it falls on her face as she draws. He found it natural to let his fingers brush on Y/N’s own as he grabs a book from the upper shelf for her.

          “You must have been watching too many romantic movies.”

          “Why?”

          “You’re really acting like a main lead now. You’re making me feel as if I’m the female lead.”

          Seokjin freezes and tears his eyes away from Y/N. He pulls the book and unceremoniously pushes it to her. “Here’s your book,” he mutters before walking back to his counter.

          “Hey, don’t just leave me here!”

          And Seokjin found it natural to let his actions do the talking for him instead.

          “Do you trust me?” Y/N asks as she looks up at him. “I already made you look good on paper. What more if we go to this amusement park together?”

          “I don’t trust you,” Seokjin says but his hand grips on hers tighter. 

          “Of course, I’d feel better when we’re alone,” Seokjin grunts as he grabs his coffee, “Who would want to see two people touching each other in public? Not to say people who engage in PDA too many times will eventually break up since the pressure from the public-”

          “We’re not telling you to engage in PDA,” Namjoon cuts him. “What we’re trying to say is that, why do you refuse to act on your feelings?

          “Yeah,” Jimin seconds, “It’s obvious that you like her. You wouldn’t keep on buying weird books and reading what Y/N borrows just to check if Y/N will indeed read it. You wouldn’t keep asking me if she’s alright at work whenever she doesn’t show up or leave you any messages under the pretense of ‘ensuring she wouldn’t come to your shop to disturb you’. You keep asking me because you’re worried about her. You keep buying her weird books because you’re happy seeing her smile happily about them. You keep welcoming Y/N into the shop even when you hate getting distracted because you like her!. It’s so obvious! Why can’t you say it?!”

          “Because I know how this thing between us will end. What we have is purely temporary. Y/N came in to find a muse and that’s that. She comes to my rental shop just to finish her project. Y/N never intended to stay long, and I made sure she didn’t. I knew she was leaving the moment she finished. If I said I liked her then, it would’ve only made us awkward and I would’ve ended up absolutely miserable.”

          “Well, she already did leave,” Namjoon deadpans. 

          “And you didn’t say anything but you’re still miserable,” Jungkook says.

          Seokjin closes his eyes and nods. He’s fully aware that Y/N is gone, but it’s not like he can act like nothing happened. It was his fault, after all. “Yeah, I know now. I’m stupid. I’ll just have to deal with it on my own and move on.”

          “You don’t have to deal with it on your own.”

          Seokjin jolts at the familiar voice. He turns around and finds the very person he’s been missing for weeks. Y/N. With the deep bags under her eyes and her hair all mussed up, she looks far from Seokjin’s type. But she’s still the most beautiful person he’s ever seen in his life. 

          “Okay, I guess this is our cue to go.”

          Seokjin whips his head to Jimin, his eyes wide, “You planned this?”

          “Obviously. It looks like you still needed a little push after the last stunt we pulled. Jungkook, stand up from your goddamn seat.”

          Y/N stays in her spot until their three friends leave them alone. Seokjin looks at his feet as shame and self-consciousness mingle in an unsettling mix in his stomach. Y/N is here and he must look like the stupidest idiot in the world right now.

          “Did you mean it when you said you liked me?

          “Yes,” Seokjin sighs.

          “Then why didn’t you say so from the start?” Y/N says in a soft voice. “You kept blocking my advances. I was trying to let you know that I liked you, too.”

          “You like me, too?” Seokjin asks, shocked and confused.

          “Of course! Did you really think I just picked weird books out for fun? Okay, I did have a lot of fun picking them — but the point is, I did all of them to get your attention!!! For god’s sake, did you think I sat through your lecture on divine afterlife intercourse “just because”? No!! Okay,” Y/N closes her eyes, I first went to your shop for inspiration. But that all changes when I started liking you. You’re just so hardworking and smart and even if you’re grumpy on bad days, you actually care so much. I just want to stand out at least a bit so you could see me, too. And just when I thought I had finally succeeded when you agreed to let me draw your face, you started giving me mixed signals. You’d come near me and touch my hand and would let it go right when I started to talk about it. You’d act so affectionate then say the exact opposite. Do you know how bad it hurts when I ask you if you’d trust me—even when I sound like I’m joking—and all you’d ever answer is ‘no’?”

          “I thought...you already knew the answer.”

          “No, I don’t, Seokjin. I told you I’m bad with words. I need things to be spelled out. I-”

          “Y/N, I trust you. I thought you figured it out already when I told you everything about my life.” Seokjin looks at his hand, “But it turns out it wasn’t enough. I’m sorry we had to take the long route like this because I couldn’t say what I really wanted.

          “And what is it?”

          “You.”

          Y/N flushes at his sudden confession. The surprise in her eyes morphs into a satisfied glint as Y/N’s lips curve into a soft smile. “It’s okay. You have me now,” She steps into his arms and Seokjin immediately engulfs her in his embrace. For the very first time in his life, he doesn’t anticipate anything. His mind doesn’t conjure any endings. All he could think of is how he wants to prolong this moment as much as he can. Seokjin smiles into her neck as he tightens her hold on her. This must be what it feels like to be finally at peace.

          “So you like me now, huh?” he feels Y/N murmur at his chest.

          “Yeah.”

          “And you trust me now?”

          “2000%” Seokjin grins.

          “Good. I’ve been wanting to try out something that I read.”

          “Oh, so you’ve finally read something,” Seokjin chuckles by her ear.

          Y/N giggles, “Yeah. I wanted to do it right this time for this book.”

          “What book?”

          “Edward Jaye’s The Cookie Sutra.”

          “What?”

          “Cookies and Kama Sutra.”

A/N pt. 2: Hello my dear @sophrosinn. Happy birthday! First of all, I love you. I LOVE YOU SO SO MUCH. AND MY LOVE FOR YOU CANNOT BE CAPTURED ENOUGH BY THESE WORDS. You’ve been with me for four years of my life and I couldn’t believe it’s just four years when it feels like I’ve been living my whole life with you. Yeah, you made a super large mark in my life and I couldn’t imagine what my life would have been if I didn’t meet you. You’ve helped me out in so many difficult times of my life. Through all the shits and slumps I had in school, in my family, and in my writing journey, you’ve stayed with me throughout all of those things. Gave me the advices I needed to hear. You’re still here, helping me heal from the pain I’ve suffered and still suffering. You’ve always been a rock of support in my life, @sophrosinn, and I wouldn’t have come this far if it weren’t you. When I look at you, I still wonder how life managed to let me meet such an astoundingly wonderful person like you are. These days have been tough but I hope you know you don’t have to suffer through it alone. I and @senfleurs will always be here to hear you rant, listen to your basog moments, and help you lighten your load as much as we can. Whenever life brings you down, I hope you always remember I will be here for you to give you an ear that will listen to you, to give you a shoulder you could cry on. I want to also be your rock of support you could always go to without hesitation just like you’ve always been for me. So Happy happy birthday my dear best girl! You have gotten a year older today but don’t worry, you’re not gonna be alone. I and @senfleurs will be by your side as we grow old with you! Here’s to more amazing years! I love you!

P.S. Yes, this fic is inspired by this reddit post you sent to us.

I just changed it up a bit bc my mind went blank when I first drafted the “we’re married” concept. Hope you like it, anyway! I tried writing both your serious and quirky sides through Seokjin and the OC!

P.P.S. I’m sorry I couldn’t get this fic out much earlier. My writing slump is still as bad as it can be but oof, I managed to get it out just before August 11 ends! I hope the wordcount and the feels and laughs make up for that   > u <

All Rights Reserved © Vanaera. Reposts, modifications, and translations of content are not allowed without direct permission

[heartofsnark]

Can You Feel The Sun? (Chapter Six): Do I Sink or Do I Float Now?

Notes: Still posting my little backlog of chapters!~  In this one we get Maelstrom, along with some Vik and Misty interactions that were really fun to write of course heavy on our precious boy Jackie too. 

Word Count:  9004

Chapter Warnings: Canon typical violence, cursing, installation of cyberware.

If you haven’t yet, you can read the previous chapter here!~

With a tightness in her chest and a heavy sigh, V answers Dex’s call. She’ll play it by ear and maybe wait until they’re in person to drop the news about Evelyn. The client really had to drag her into this bullshit, didn’t she? 

“How're things lookin', Miss. V?”

“Client had a recording that helped us out, Konpeki Plaza.”

“Beautiful. T-Bug already called, said she's workin' her magic. And the Flathead?”

“On it now and quick question, how are we getting into Konpeki?” 

“Through the front door, how else? I'm no leadhead. Ain't gonna leave no trace for them to follow 'cause we gonna do this clean an' on the hush-hush,” Dex confirms her beliefs, she needs cyberware, something. 

“Got it, on my way to get the Flathead, now.” 

“T-Bug says no chance at the chip without that bot. To work, then, Miss V.” 

He hangs up and V leaves Lizzie’s bar, night air cold on her exposed skin. She’ll swing by her apartment, drop by Vik’s, and then meet up with Jackie at All Foods. V makes a beeline to her car, starting a call and patching a call to Jackie through the radio speaker. 

“Jackie,” she signs one handed as she drives, “Met the client. Her name's Parker. Evelyn Parker.”

“OK. Whatcha waitin' for? Gimme the deets. Who is she? What's she like?”

“Shady as fuck. Doll, I think, fucks Yorinobu Arasaka and now she wants to fuck him over.” 

“Don’t seem that odd.” 

“She’s...off, Jackie. Hiding something, big, I just. Don’t trust her, don’t think she’s a bad person, just… not to be trusted.” 

“Yeah, sounds like nerves talkin' to me. Makes everyone seem suspect. Stress can kill you, y'know.”

“Yeah, yeah, so you tell me.” 

“What about Militech?” 

“I met with the corpo.” 

“V… “ 

“Hear me out, woman gave me hell and a spiked chip, wanted me to pay on Militech’s dime but the chip would have fried Maelstrom and left us cleaning up the mess.” 

“Of course, I told you, V.” 

“But, I managed to crack it. Maelstrom plays nice, I got a clean ten grand off of Maelstrom. Chrome snorters pull bullshit; we fuck them and send a middle finger to Militech while we’re at it. We can talk it out more when we meet.”  

“Alright, waitin' for ya at All Foods, ya know. Not gettin' any younger.”

“Well, grab something to eat, going to be a while longer.” 

“Chingada madre, V, what now?” 

“Konpeki Plaza, hotel we got to get into. They have a no weapon policy and way Dex talks that the only way in, is through the front door. “ 

“And?” 

“And, if shit goes sideways, I don’t want to be caught with my pants down,  in a gunfight without a weapon. Need cyberware, something they can’t confiscate, so I’ll be ready for worst case scenario. So, I’m grabbing my savings and making a trip to see Vik.” 

“Stress stress, all you do is stress, but I’m glad you’re finally spending your fucking money. What you trying to get?” 

“You’ll see when we meet up, who knows, might end up using it on some Maelstrommers.” 

“Hehe, see you soon, V.” 

V hangs up and parks outside her megabuilding, sliding her mask off and into her bag before running in. She keeps her head down and doesn’t talk as she rushes to just get her stash of cash out from under the bed. Willing the elevator to move faster and annoyed when she presses her hand to the intercom to unlock her door and it takes a second too long for the lock to validate her SID chip. She opens the under bed  compartment, finding her money stash next to her toy stash. Then it’s back out to her car and driving out to Vik’s. 

She parks in the same place Jackie did that morning, keeping her head down as she wades through the crowd, trying not to stare at the strippers in the club window across from Misty’s store and avoiding eye contact with Gary; the slightly crazy homeless man who likes to yell about conspiracies.  V peeks into Misty’s shop and smiles when she sees the woman at the little register and desk. Her face lit by the cyan neon sign advertising her prices for chakra readings. 

“Hey, V.” Misty smiles at her, she’s the cutest little thing, granted she’s a bit taller than V. A short airy chin length bob of bleached hair, heavy black makeup, and big green eyes. 

“Hey, Misty,” V signs as she walks in, her choker translator already turned on

“Heard you and Jackie have a new job.” There’s a hint of something sad to her voice, a pain to her eyes. 

“You don’t seem excited.” 

“Just...worried; bigger jobs, bigger risks.” 

“I know, I’ll do my best to watch out for him, promise.” 

“I know you will, V.” 

“You’ll have to read our cards when you get the chance.” Its become a tradition, the little peek into the future easing some of Misty’s nerves. 

“Please, Jackie’s heart chakra was a little out of whack and his aura needs tending. Keep him away from mean reds, if you can.” 

“I’ll do my best.” 

“Speaking of which…” 

“Oh no.” 

“You need to let me adjust your chakras, V!~” 

“Yeah… I don’t know about that one…” 

“Your crown and throat chakras are so messy, heart chakra too actually, you’re just spiritually kind of a wreck, V.” 

“You can tell that just by looking at me.” 

“I could tell after my first conversation with you.” 

“Funny, I’ll think about it. For now, I got to see Vik.” 

“He’s in the clinic, go on in.” 

V gives Misty a pat on the shoulder as she walks around and goes out the back door of the older woman’s store into the alleyway behind it. A soft meow rings out, just before the stairs that go down to Vik’s is a little sphinx cat with big golden eyes. The merc crouches down and scritches it’s back, smiling at the cutie, softly meowing back at it. Its such a cute kitty. One more little pat and she separates herself from the cat and goes down the stairs to Vik’s clinic. She’s not sure how Vik can stand to stay in the dank basement level clinic all day, but she’s thankful he’s always easy to find when she needs him. Through the little metal gateway door she can already see him at a workbench, watching a boxing match on a small TV. 

“Viky! How’s my favorite ripper?” She greets him as she walks through, grinning as the older man spins his chair to look at her. 

The ripper’s eyes drop down for a second seeing the box she has held to her stomach with one arm. He smiles softly, the expression forming wrinkles around his eyes. He’s an older man, dark hair just starting to thin on the back of his head. Tattooed forearms with memories of his boxing days and tinted glasses on his nose. 

“Good to see you too, V. It's been a while. To what do I owe the pleasure today?”

“Got a new gig, new fixer, sure Jackie’s already talked your ear off about it.” 

“Dexter Deshawn…  Known quantity, from the Afterlife. No denying you're movin' up…” Vik tells her but there’s a drag in his voice, V is starting to get the distinct impression that no one is as excited for this as her and Jackie are. Hell, she’s not even as excited as Jackie, Evelyn’s offer still heavy on her mind. 

“Something you’re not telling me?” 

“Keep your guard up, that's all. I've heard some things about Dex. He's not as "chill" as he makes himself out to be.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she nods, Dex doesn’t seem to shady at the moment, but she trusts Vik’s opinion, “as for right now, plan is for me and Jackie to get into a hotel, pretend we’re guests. Hotel’s got a strict no guns policy, so… need a weapon they can’t take off of me.” 

“That so? You finally caving and getting the projectile launcher?” 

“No, I was thinking Mantis Blades, actually. Quieter, if shit goes off the rails it’d be better to have something that doesn’t tell everyone where we are.” 

“And you get to add two more blades to your collection,” Vik teases, knowing her affinity for swords, knives, and daggers over firearms. 

“Hey, doesn’t hurt to stick to what I know, besides with shit getting real… need better tech.” 

“Well alright,” Vik stands and kicks away his wheeled seat, walking towards his work station, and getting the injector, “but lemme guess- hasn’t paid you yet.” 

“No, but, I brought what I got. I know it’s not enough but, if you’re fine with me paying so much now and the rest later, I-” 

Vik puts a hand up and stops her from pushing the little box of cash at him, a soft smile on his face. Jackie likes to say Vik has a soft spot for her, sometimes she doubts it but when he gives her that soft almost kind fatherly look, she can’t help but think Jackie might be right. 

“Keep it.” 

“No, don’t be ridiculous, I should at least give you something upfront, I-” 

“We'll work something out later. Right now I'm just out to make sure you get back in one piece. Keep that back for now and we can figure it out once you get paid, alright?” 

“Got no idea what I did to deserve you, Vik.” 

“Who knows?” He laughs and shoots an injection into his forearm, to help steady and loosen up his organic hand, flexing the fingers on his ripper glove, “go ahead and get comfy.” 

V nods and puts her cash stash in her bag before climbing up into the doctor’s chair, taking a deep breath. Even with Vik, the only doctor she trusts, she always finds herself nervous in his chair. She’s slowly grown more accustomed to the importance of cyberware and tech in Night City, but it still just feels overwhelming at times to think of carving out pieces of herself for it. V is fairly sure other than monks she’s one of the only people past the age of eighteen who doesn’t have optics, kids carving their eyes out as soon as a doc is willing to do it. This is important, she needs to be prepared for the worst case scenario, but she is about to have a significant portion of her arms removed to be replaced with swords. The gravity of that still sits heavy on her chest. 

“Jack in and lay those major league arms down for me.” 

Vik pulls up two tables on each side of the chair and V lays her arms down for him, trying to steady her breathing. Her eyes linger on the brand on her left wrist, the one that marked her place within her nomad clan.  She wonders if that part of her arm will be taken off, skin removed with synthetic Real Skin stuff.  He sits in his little wheeled stool, looking over her scans. 

“Looks like you’ve actually been taking your meds.” 

“Got an alarm on my phone now, nearly forgot just this morning,” she switches to spoken English, though her hands twitch to sign, she doesn’t want to move them just in case. 

“Whatever helps, last thing you need is your body trying to kill itself.” 

“But it's so good at that.” 

“Oh I know it is,” he pushes himself to get to the other side of the table, pushing a sharp injection into her arm just below her elbow, “a bit of anesthetic.” Then he pushes her sleeve up higher, so he can reach her bicep, another shot. 

“What’s that one?” 

“Anti-anxiety, though judging by the wide eyed look on your face, it’s gonna take a second to kick in.” 

“Oh, yeah… sorry.” 

“It's okay, know this ain’t your thing. Most arm cyberware is fairly invasive, but I got some tricks up my sleeve. Do my best to give you the tech you need and leave as much ‘ganic material intact as I can.” 

“I know, I trust you.”

Slowly, her body numbs. The strong anesthetic spreads into her blood and impacting every inch of her. Her breathing feels more stable and her heart rate seems to slow back to normal, a sense of calm coming over her. Vik is a good man, she knows that, he’d never do anything that isn’t needed and wouldn’t ever try to hurt her. He starts to roll out the tech to carve her arms open and put blades inside. 

She closes her eyes and lays her head back, because she doesn’t want to see, it will just freak her out more. Put her trust in fate and more importantly Vik to take care of it. V feels nothing, only soft whirrs of tech. 

“Feel anything?” 

“Never do. Ask me that every time, you know. Not as if things are gonna be any different today.”

“Sure thing, kid, I mean not like there's any risk of a stroke or paralysis. But... heh, what do I know? I'm just a doctor.”

“Okay, okay, I getcha.” 

“You got your contacts with you?” 

“Yeah, in my bag.” 

“Once we get your blades in, I’ll take a look at them, think we can bump them up with some Kiroshi tech.”

“You’re the best, Vik.” 

“So, I’ve heard.” 

“Oh, nearly forgot, you’ll get a kick out of this. Coach Fred in my building wants me to do some fights.” 

“Does he now?” 

“Mmhmm, really tried to sell it too, he believes in me. Dude, I’m fucking five feet tall, but okay.” 

“Well,” Vik chuckles, “to be fair, you may be small, but I’ve seen you take down guys twice your size.” 

“That’s merc work, Vik; don’t think they’d let me stab my opponent in the ring.” 

“That is usually frowned upon.” 

They make small talk as he works, the chatter easing her nerves, the little traces of anxiety the medicine can’t touch. Vik tries to convince her she could hold her own in a boxing fight, though unlike Coach Fred, it feels less like a sales pitch coming from Vik. From him it feels more like a dad trying to convince their kid they’ll be good at soccer if they just get out there and try it. 

“Alright, we’re done, kid. Take a look.” 

V takes a deep breath and does just that, Looking down at arms that still seem to be very much her own but with silver detailing from her knuckles to her elbows. They look nice, the Mantis Blades and Projectile Launcher are the better looking arm cyberware options in her opinion. Like accents, little detailing, rather than making arms look more tech than flesh. It’s her nails still, painted her favorite bright blue, she can still see her freckles. And when she twists her forearms she finds her brand still there. 

“Wow, really did save as much skin as you could.” 

“Mmhmm, still you, just a few added touches. The blades act on intention and reflex, stand up and give it a try. Just don’t cut anything I need.”

V gets out of the chair, taking a few steps to the most cleared off portion of the room. Vik scoots himself back on the stool. Just what she’d need, to finally get cyberware beyond the basics and end up accidentally gutting her favorite ripper. With the thought and a tensing of her forearms, the blades extend out. 

“Woah.” 

She marvels at it, the way her flesh has opened up, can see the metal compartment almost where the blades were stored and hidden inside. Carefully, she retracts the blade in one arm to touch the other. Curiously she touches where the skin meets metal, nerves in the flesh still, but when she touches inside of the compartment she feels nothing. She presses down into the steel and when she does so hard enough, she can feel it start to put pressure on real organic tissue. She pulls her fingers away and retracts the blade; extending and pulling them back a few times, getting the feel for them. 

“Take it you’re a fan?” 

“Its so cool.” 

“Still wish you got the Launcher instead?” 

“Maybe a little bit,” she tests out signing, thankful the metal additions don’t interfere with her ability to do it, “I’m good with knives and katanas, so having a cannon in my arm would add a bit of variety.”

“Maybe your next job.” 

“You can take them out and do that?” 

“Mmhmm, now-a-days even the military grade stuff is designed to be adaptable, you can rip ‘em out and change it up whenever you see fit. So, you can have whatever new tech you want when you want it.” 

“The innovations of consumerism, huh?” 

“Something like that,” he laughs, “hand me your contacts and I’ll upgrade them for you.” 

She does just that, watching him take the contacts and put them in a device. While he tinkers with those, V keeps playing with her new toys. Making sure she knows exactly what will and won’t trigger the blades. Flexing alone won’t extend them, folding and twisting her forearms. It requires the intention too, linked to she assumes her neural plants and cyberdeck.  Which means she should be able to hug someone without decapitating them, a skill she does occasionally enjoy having. Even if Jackie says her hugs are half ass.  Got to hug people like you’ll never see them again, because in Night City that might be the case; according to him. 

“All done, test them out,” Vik hands her back the contact case and she carefully places them in. The interface lights up for a moment, adjusting to the new tech.  She looks around, her vision a bit clearer. 

“Image looks clearer.” 

“Installed threat detection and weak spot detection tech too. Anyone who isn’t known to you, who the soft picks up as an enemy sees you, it’ll highlight them and tell you what their weak points are.” 

“That’s awesome, I don’t know what to say Vik, this is incredible.” 

“Figured, if you needed the blade for some hotel, you’d probably have to ditch the mask. So, it doesn't hurt to bump up the contacts.” 

“Yeah...oh…guess your right, can’t play corp hotel guest in a mask, can I…” 

“Just now realizing that?” 

“Maybe… but more importantly. The blades, the contacts. I don’t know what to say, Vik, I…”

“Say you’ll take this and remember the dosage. Two whiffs now and another two in an hour,” he hands her a medicine inhalant, “mild stim. Should boost neurotransmission in the short term and muffle some of the side effects while the implant takes.”

“Thanks Vik, seriously, I owe you big. You sure you don’t want some cash up front? I really don’t mind, I-” 

“Won’t hear it. Go on, kid. Show 'em what you're made of,” he grins at her, rolling back over to his desk, “And once you hit the big leagues, don't forget where you came from.”

A part of her wonders if it’s meant as a joke or a serious concern, knowing how much he seemed to worry about her getting a job from Dex. No matter if she hits the major leagues, Vik will always be her go to ripper. She comes up behind him where he’s gone back to watching TV and throws an arm around his neck in a sort of hug, squeezing him close. The kind of hug Jackie would mock, but full scale embraces are still...weird. 

“Couldn’t if I tried, Vik, thanks again.” 

“No problem, kiddo,” he pats her hand where it sits on his chest, “grab your candy and get going.”  

V giggles, and  pats his shoulder as she pulls away. She wonders if any of his other patients end up grabbing candy from the bowl on his desk. If Vik does the same joke with anyone else now that she kicked it off, a part of her hopes not. She grabs a handful of honeyed candies, popping one in her mouth as she leaves his clinic through the metal gate. The cat is still there when she gets back out to street level, she gives it a few more scratches, then takes the pathway back through Misty’s shop. 

“Vik take care of you?” The bleached blonde greets V as she comes in. 

“Sure did, I got swords in my arms.” 

That gets a giggle out of her, V showing off the indentations and designs of the Mantis Blades. Misty runs her fingers along them, smiling at the merc. 

“Very nice, take it you’re off to meet Jackie, now?”  There’s still some worry in Misty’s eyes, a sadness to her tone. 

“Yeah, got to get a combat bot. Shouldn’t take too long, Maelstrom isn’t anything we haven’t handled before. You know that.” 

“I do, I do,” Misty fiddles her fingers together, “its not them I’m worried about, it’s just this whole… thing with Dex and this heist. Just got a bad feeling. The bigger your jobs get, the more risks, you know. I’m sorry...sure you don’t want to hear me whine.” 

“Hey, hey,” V touches Misty’s shoulder, “its not whining. You love Jackie, it’s only natural to be worried.” 

“Thanks, Jackie thinks this job will set us up for life, that he’ll finally be able to take care of me like I deserve… “

“And what do you think?” 

“That is dreams are gonna get him killed one day and he doesn’t seem to care…” 

“He cares, he does. He just...thinks the risk is worth it, that if he does this he can build a better future.” 

“I know, just can’t shake the feeling he’s flying too close to the sun, I guess,” Misty says, wrapping her arms around herself. V knows that anxiety well and can’t say she even has the best feeling about this job. But, this is too good of an opportunity to pass up. 

“Hey, want to go ahead and do that tarot reading? Might make you feel better, see what the fates got in store.” 

“Yeah,” Misty smiles softly, “I’d like that.” 

Misty grabs her deck, the one V and Jackie picked out for her, as the merc comes around to the other side of the table. Jackie and V will be with each other the whole time, so if V’s future comes up clean, it means he can’t be too bad off. If nothing else, it offers a little distraction from anxiety and it won’t kill Jackie to wait just another ten or so minutes. 

“If my future’s clean, Jackie’s won’t be too bad. Guy’s always had better luck than me, anyway.” 

“I think he’d say otherwise,” Misty laughs, shuffling the cards, “now, focus on the recent past and what you expect in the future.” 

First card down, a man walking towards a cliff with a dog trotting along after him. 

“The Fool, that’d be you.” 

“So the cards think I’m an idiot, cool,” V rolls her eye, not missing the shadow of a smile across Misty’s lips. 

“The Fool symbolizes the beginning of a journey. You brim with enthusiasm, yet remain unaware of both your capabilities and the threats you face.”

“So...the cards think I'm an idiot.” 

“Just a little bit,” Misty teases, laying down the next card, “The Wheel of Fortune,. The danger is greater than you think. It will come suddenly, without warning. Conflict is unavoidable.”

“Fair enough.” 

Another card down, this one upside down. 

“The reversed Chariot reveals that such danger is tied to your love of risk. Do not aim too high, V.”

“I’m short, got nowhere else to aim.” 

Misty looks up at V under her brow, despite the hint of a smile, the meaning is clear. This is serious and V should take it with some level of seriousness. But, if she’s honest, V’s just happy to see Misty smiling at all. 

“And finally, The Magician… interesting.” 

“Why’s that?” 

“You may meet someone fascinating, someone charismatic. Maybe even someone you will grow to love?”

“Ew.”

Misty laughs as V makes a face at the word love and how Misty dragged the word out; the implication clear and gross. Why the fuck is fate concerned with V’s romantic life when she’s about to pull off a heist on Ara-fucking-Saka. 

“You can’t ‘ew’ fate, V!” Misty scolds her between giggles, smile now wide and bright. 

“I can when fate is being fucking gross.” 

“Love isn’t gross, V. It's beautiful.”  

“Ew.” 

“Get out of my shop,” Misty laughs and rolls her eyes, putting the cards back in her deck. 

“Talk to you, later.” 

Misty waves her off and V leaves out, content that she lightened Misty’s mood if only for a moment. She avoids eye contact with Gary as she makes a beeline back to her car, putting her new contacts back in the case and that in her bag. As useful as they are, she’ll use her mask for the Maelstrom job. For the usual reasons; enjoying her anonymity and well, people tend to take her a bit more seriously when they can’t see her baby face.  

V pulls up outside of All Foods, an abandoned food plant that Maelstrom has turned into their newest HQ.  Jackie is already parked sitting on his arch, poor guy has been waiting on her for entirely too long.  She puts her mask back on and hops out, walking up towards him, seeing his posture brighten up when he spots her walking down the street. 

“About time, V. Mi madre always said patience pays off, but christ.” 

“Sorry, a lot of shit to take care of. Most prepwork we’ve ever had to put in.” 

“Well, fill me in.” 

“Ran through the BD with the client and T-Bug, know where the chip is and where we’re trying to get too. But we need the bot from Maelstrom to nuke the hotel’s subnet and make sure we don’t catch lead from a turret. Dex paid them for it, but we got no idea if they’re going to honor that.” 

“He paid up front, hijole.” 

“Yep, I met up with the Militech rep too. Gave me the spiked chip, but I reworked it. Got a chip with clean eddies on it and a newly...adjusted… chip that will spike Maelstrom and Militech.” 

“So, what’s the play?” 

“Doubt they’re going to just honor the original buy, but if they play nice, figured we return the favor. Give them the clean eddies and call it done.” 

“But Maelstrom don’t play nice.  Gang world ain't too complicated, Might's right, the strong survive. Either you fuck others, or you get fucked.”

“Then we fuck them over right back, they want to play dirty, give them the spiked chip and take what we want. Spike chips in my left pocket, clean one in the right,” she pats her pockets, “so if you see me get the chip from the left, get ready.” 

“Understood and the new chrome?” 

“Mantis Blades, like I said, hotels got a no iron policy and if shit goes wrong, I want to be ready. And, hell, if Maelstrom plays dirty, I might get a little practice tonight.” 

“How the hell you swing those?” 

“Vik, gave me chrome on credit, again. Too nice for his own good, I swear.” 

“Pff,” Jackie laughs, “only when it comes to you, chica.” 

“Don’t know why.” 

“Told ya, he says you got a good heart. Probably give you a second one for free just for that.” 

“Enough, enough; lets get this taken care of.” 

“Into the borgbeasts den, then.” 

“Onward.”  With that Jackie climbs off his bike, leading the way and she follows behind. 

“I hate these 'borg fuckers. Just had to be them…” 

“Gang like any other,” V tells him. 

Night has fallen over the city, lit by streetlamps and fires in a trash can. Northside all but abandoned, one of the only places where the night isn’t colored by neon citylights. They walk past trash and shrapnel, towards the door. An intercom button on the wall. 

“Take the Valentinos. They follow God and the Santa Madre. Honor means something to 'em. You know what they want, how they get it, and what pisses 'em the fuck off. With Maelstrom, you just never know.”

“Think you might be a touch bias?” 

“Heh, maybe,  go on, let 'em know we're here.” 

With the V presses the intercom button waiting for it to ring, a few moment pass before a low growl of a voice finally responds. 

“Hm, don't know you.”

“Dex sent us.” V is increasingly thankful his name is easy enough to quickly finger spell. If they keep working with him, she may have to come up with a name sign though. 

“Main room. We been waiting,” the Malestom member tells her and the front doors slide open. 

The first room is dark with only a fluorescent light and the red glow of active turrets within it. There’s a distinct stink of mildew, rot, and mold. The stench of it choking V as she steps in after Jackie. 

“Cozy place. Could use a few plants, though,” Jackie makes a snide remark, as his heavy steps ring through the room, tech lines the walls and is stacked up on shelves, “Oh yeah. They look damn well prepared.”

“Food factory turned into a fucking armory, lovely.” 

“Gear from the Jacked convoy, gotta be… Must've been all over it like maggots on dead meat.”

“Everything’s marked Militech,” she confirms as they take a corner and walk down a short flight of stairs. 

“Psycho borgs chromed out with military-grade hardware worth millions... Should be fun.”

“Yeah, a real party.” 

They take a turn past a cluster of steel lockers, grime coated, with old abandoned anti-contamination suits still inside. Another turn past a neon red lit elevator shaft, the old factory is a mechanical maze. No doubt a reason why the chrome gang picked it; walls covered in their graffiti. They walk up another staircase; mines on every step, deactivating before them. 

“Anti-personnel mine,” V comments, “directional shrapnel spitter.” 

“Subtle…” 

Around a corner, through another passageway, and up another flight of stairs. Each step echoes, the entire place dark except for blips colored by red and the odd white fluorescents. Jackie stops when the steps lead to a door. Nodding his head at it, giving V the go ahead to open it. She rolls up the shutter door and is suddenly blinded with bright stark white light, chill curling around her and creeping through her thin cropped top. It makes sense, the former meat packaging plant needing a room to stay cold. 

“Stay cool… They’re just tryin’ to spook us,” Jackie tells her as she steps forward. 

Bright yellow forms patterns across the metal floor, spot lights, and stacks of crates marked Militech. Security cameras and she sees the first glimpse of Maelstrom members since they’ve stepped into the plant. One sitting on a crate, armed and watching with their signature red glowing optics. Another on a platform over seeing them. 

“Get in the elevator, fuckin’ sheep,” the Maelstrommer barks at them. 

“Thought those cabrones only swiped a couple crates, not a whole fuckin’ semi,” Jackie comments under his breath as they walk past the crates and to the end of the room. Double doors open up to a freight elevator. 

“This is going to be a hoot, ain’t it?” The doors to the elevator close and it starts it’s journey upwards. 

“It’s all right, keep chilled, V. Remember, we're on their turf.” 

“Yeah, because I’m the one who loses their chill.” 

“I’m always chill-” 

The elevator comes to a stop before Jackie can finish his though, the door on the other end opening and a Maelstrom member staring at them. He has the red glowing spider like optics and little mechanical dreads on the back of his head. What’s visible of his arms and chest is a mishmash of scar tissue and metal.  Over his shoulders, she can see two other gang members. One holding a shotgun and the other plugged into a netrunner chair, glowing under the light of red screens. 

“What do you want?” He’s the guy who spoke to them over the intercom. 

“Got a bot we need, model MT0D12, Flat Head. Our fixer already paid for it, we’re just here to pick it up.” 

“Hmm, names Dum-Dum,” he points to the side with his gun and starts to move back into the room, “Now, couch. Plant it.”

She walks into the room, and it seems like this could go well. They’ve been mostly chill, gruff sure, but nothing bad. In the center of the room just before a large roll up garage door is a table and two torn up red leather couches. Another Maelstrom member sits on the table. She doesn’t hesitate, sitting down on the couch closest to her, looking at the bright vending machine the gangers have graffitied over. Dum-Dum puts one foot up on the other couch and follows his line of sight to Jackie, who moves a little slower, his arms crossed as he moves next to the other couch and only stands. 

“Ahh, well, shit. Goes for you too,” Dum-Dum tells him and she expects Jackie to listen, he said himself this is their turf and they should keep try to stay chill. 

“I'll stand.”

Or… he’ll let his pride get the better of him and refuse.  Its hard to read the emotions on a Maelstrom member's face, so chromed you can tell what the hell is going on. But the shift in volume is telling enough. 

“This so fuckin' hard? Fuckin' ass on the fuckin' couch!”

“Make me,” Jackie says, voice low as he gets into Dum-Dum’s face. As much as he can while being nearly a head taller than the Maelstrom member. 

“Thought you'd never ask. Sit your ass down 'fore I plant a bullet in your skull.’

“Jackie,” she signs with one hand and pats his shoulder,  catching his attention, “think it’d be best to just sit down, keep everything chill, remember?” 

“This ain't gonna end well but… shit…” And with that Jackie finally sits down, sinking into graffiti covered red leather. 

“Well, all right,” Dum-Dum gets a drug inhalant from his pocket, sitting down on the table in front of V and offering it to her,  “Come on, gotta lighten up. Take a hit.”

The inhalant is red and purple; if she had to guess, Black Lace. An upper that’s high is said to feel reminiscent of manic Cyberpsychosis. Corps used to feed it to their troops by the gallon, cuts off pain receptors and made everyday men into unstoppable killing machines. 

“Appreciate the offer, but weed’s the hardest shit I touch,” V dismisses the offer as politely as she can. She knows it’d endear her to them, maybe, but… drugs aren’t really her thing. And when it is, she prefers mellow to mania. 

Dum-Dum huffs the inhalant, dipping his head back and smoke billowing from his nose. Then exhaling a steady stream of it. She can see Jackie cringing and trying not to breath in the aftermath of Dum-Dum’s high. 

“Whatever you say, straight edged princess.” 

The member sitting next to Dum-Dum moves as nother brings out a large Militech case, black with a yellow lock. It’s put down on the table with a heavy thud. 

“Here we go. The Flathead, model MT0D12.”

“Need to see it.” She’s not going go off of good faith, assuming it’s all there and works. 

“Suit yourself.”

He opens the case and she sees the spider like bot inside, it's almost cute, Dum-Dum shakes the control shard at them as he talks. 

“Fuckin' tricked out this thing. Dynamic, thermo-optic camo armor.”

He puts the control shard into a slot at the base of his skull, all but the middle of his optic eyes going dim as the bot comes to life within the crate. It stands at attention, moves it’s head and shimmies it’s legs. Just a cute mechanical spider; why did they make military combat tech cute? 

“Full cognitive immersion with a Raven controller.”

The bot goes invisible which is impressive, but V’s eye is drawn elsewhere. A steady creak and she sees the garage door behind Dum-Dum is starting to roll up. Screens and the back of a leather chair, a man sitting down visible. She can’t truly tell, but if she had to wager a guess, Royce. 

“Pimped out, prototype actuators made of titanium-vanadium-Kevlar composite.” 

Dum-Dum continues to sell them on the bot as the door fully opens behind him, the chair turning and her seeing that she was right. Royce, the newest Maelstrom leader looking into the deal with the same glowing red optics, though his set so far back in his skull he’s missing gray matter. 

“'N' watch this,” Dum-Dum says he sends the bot to move around the base,  “Fully integrated link, too, so when the spider starts crawlin' up walls, danglin' from ceilings…” He starts to sound sick, his stomach churning as he sees the view of the bot. 

“Could lose your lunch?”  V can’t help but tease, Royce is up now, one hand on the garage door. Like he’s waiting,  ready to pounce the second he hears something he don’t like. Those red optic staring V down. 

“So, what you think?” Dum-Dum asks as he returns the bot to its case.

“Exactly what we’re after, we’ll take it.” 

“Preem, sure, yeah,” Dum-Dum puts the control shard back in the case, “let’s see your cred.” 

“Brick already got paid for it.” 

A metal boom rings out, those words snapping Royce into action as he punches his fist against the door. Stomping forward and Dum-Dum jumps, rushing off the table as Royce marches towards V. 

“Brick got it…heh,” the red shine of metal, a gun pressed to her head, “I don't see any fuckin' Brick around here, do you?!”

“Fuck Brick then, lets cut a new deal,” she doesn’t hesitate, refuses to flinch or show fear. 

He presses the gun in tighter, leaning down into her face, the red optic nearly blinding. So close she can see the scars around the tech and just deeply imbedded they truly are, He lets out a low hum as he leans in, testing her and she doesn’t pull away, doesn’t break eye contact. Then he pulls back. 

“Hah! Now that's good business sense! All right, you want the Flathead? I better see some eddies.” 

She reaches into her left pocket. She would have done this clean, would have paid and been on her way. But Royce wanted a fight, wanted to put iron to her head and try to shake her down. So, she’ll burn his whole goddamn operation to the ground. 

“Got them right here,” she hands him the credchip. 

“Just like that? Without battin' a fuckin' eye?! Hahah!”

“Need the bot, just take the cash and hand it over, no trouble needed.” 

“Look at this fuckin' girl scout! You know all your knots, got all your badges?! Hahaha!”

“Hilarious, you want the money or not?” 

“Y'know, ya never did say who sent you, never did say who you're workin' for?” 

“Yes, yes I fucking did, Dex.” 

“Dexter DeShawn… The lard ass who punching-animal-fucked half of Pacifica? Mean he ain't dead?”

“Swear to god, I’m going to blow my own brains out before you can! You want my fucking money or you want to bore me to death?” 

“Fine,” he starts to grab the chip when there’s a shake in metal, a rumble and an alarm starts to blare. Walls of the factory shake, the faint sound of gunfire. 

“What the…? Shit Militech!” Dum-Dum yells out, they must have known the corp was on their tail. 

“Rusty fucking cunt,” Royce curses and the Maelstrom members start to rush out and V moves; grabbing the Flathead case and stuffing it into her backpack as soon as eyes aren’t on them.

“Shit, Militech got antsy” Jackie tells her over the alarm. 

“Who gives a shit, we got-” 

“Hey!” Dum-Dum yells back at them, from a higher platform, and for a moment she thinks he’s going to fight them for the bot, “lets get the fuck out of here, follow me.” 

Her and Jackie exchange a look, V just shrugging, if he wants to help out why not. V quickly climbs up the yellow ladder up to the platform, following behind Dum-Dum, Jackie not far behind her. Dum-Dum opens a door and it opens into what a room with consoles and the stench of meat hanging in the air. 

“Ay, huele feo, this meat! Ack.. I can taste it,” Jackie sounds like he’s on the verge of puking his guts up. 

“Production line, besides, thought you liked meat?” 

“We'll ride the line. Flip it on.” 

V follows behind Dum-Dum, climbing up a set of crates and onto a scaffolding. The production line is blocked, unmoving in years she’d assume. But on a console is a large red button lined with yellow, she punches it and metal sheets moves from the way, production line whirring to life as red lights color the metal passageways.  Dum-Dum jumps across the small gap and climbs down the ladder. 

“Hey, Doo Dum or whatever your name is, why you even helpin' us??” Jackie asks as V jumps the little gap and platforms but skips the ladder, jumping down the short distance. 

“I'm not. Helpin' myself. Soon as the shootin' starts, I got two walkin' bullet sponges with me. Sponges who'll shoot back.” 

The three walk through the narrow corridor, production line billow steam at them as the pathway opens up to another raised section of scaffolding, a section of it missing and allowing them to drop through and down onto another that surrounds a large hangar, gunfire rings out. Malestrom and Militech soldiers screaming at one another. 

“C’mon let’s go!” 

“You say come on one more time!” 

Dum-Dum rushes down the platform and into the thick of it, quick to fight alongside his fellow Maelstrommers. And god, she’s not a fan of the gang, but watching soldiers with military grade armor and equipment trying to shoot down the group of mini-borgs… Maybe she just hates corps that fucking much.  They could sneak out, let Maelstrom and Militech tear each other part, run with the bot and the eddies. 

“That whackjobs got no chance,” Jackie says, “maybe we give ‘em a hand.” 

“Lets.” 

And she jumps the banister of the platform, landing clean onto a Militech soldier’s back and extends her Mantis Blades. They slice cleanthrough his neck and he goes limp underneath her, bleeding onto the production floor.  V is up the next instant, running full charge into another man’s chest, knocking him off his center of gravity, landing on his chest and stabbing her blade through his heart before he can throw her off.  Back on her feet and fighting in the next moment. 

There is no stealth here, no technique or strategy, just kill or be killed. She moves quick, swinging a blade up to slice a soldier navel to throat. Bringing a blade clean down into another’s shoulder. Takes another’s legs out and they slice clean off, the tactical armored clothes like butter to the Mantis Blades. 

A Militech boot lands square on her chest before she can slice through them, the kick knocks the air from her lungs, staggering her backwards Her head collides with a metal door, Mantis Blades retracting as she hits the ground. The Miltech worker points his gun at her. But before his finger can pull that trigger, a machete is brought down into the junction between his shoulder and neck, ripped back out in a spurt of blood. The man goes down, Jackie behind him. 

“Got you, chica.” He says, pulling her up, a layer of blood has started to stick to both of them. And as she gets to her feet, she catches a glimpse through the window in the door. Bright red lights of servers, a large computer. 

She looks past Jackie into the room, a large swath of Militech agents taken down. Maelstrom still battling the few left in the area. She doesn’t know what will be waiting for her when she breaks through, Meredith’s promise of seeing her soon if V pulled anything like this. 

“C’mon,” V opens the door and quickly yanks Jackie into the server room. 

“The hell are you doing?” 

“Want to check something, bargaining chip, just in case,” 

Blood coated fingers swipe open the computer screen, pulling up the messages and files Maelstrom has saved. A message named Transports- LOA catches her eye, any Nomad worth their salt knows LOA is used by corps who intentionally “lose” their cargo.  She opens it, the message from Anthony Gilchrist telling one of the gang members how to get their hands on the convoy. Meredith has her mole.  V jacks into the console and downloads the fill to her neural implants. 

“What’s up?” 

“Militech rep wanted to find her mole. She tries to get payback, I got intel,” V jacks out of the terminal, “lets go.” 

They rush out of the server room and throw themselves back into the fray, slicing through Militech soldiers, as if they were never gone. V goring a soldier with both blades as Jackie blows the brains out of the last one. 

Dum-Dum leads them through the rest of the plant, turns and curves and stairways, a maze of metal. The three cutting their way through Militech soldiers one body after the other, clearing the room after room. Until they open a door at the top of a stair case, showing what may have once been a massive garage portion of the plant. 

“I’ll melt your fuckin’ skin off!”  Royce screams and laughs from inside a Militech armored exoskeleton, using it to fire off a massive gun that bursts flames around the feet of the soldiers. They shoot and fire at Royce along with a large automated robot

“We gotta help him!” Dum-Dum yells out, rushing into the fray to help his boss, Royce cackling as the soldier try to shoot him. 

“He's fuckin' happy! That's almost contagious!” Jackie laughs, him and V jumping in to help. 

Dum-Dum, Jackie, and V focus on the soldiers; trying to get their fire off of Royce, so he can focus on the heavy duty robot blasting back at him. Pure reflex as bullets fly, blades slash, and body after body falls down at their feet. Chaos, adrenaline; Royce’s manic cackling making them want to laugh too. Last bit if human soldiers down,  Its all on taking down the hulking robot that, it’s armored outside burned and damaged, but not destroyed by the heavy fire Royce blasts it with. V sheaths her blades within her arms, getting her gun from it’s holster and firing round after round into the tech. Jackie and Dum-Dum do the same; five guns, it sputters and sparks, one finally piercing the core of its circuits. The heap of metal collapsing. 

“Khe. The hell're you still doin' here...?” Royce scoffs when he sees Jackie and V are still there. 

“Helping, apparently,” V signs in response, she doesn’t expect much in the way of gratitude. But a little acknowledgement that her and Jackie did a lot of heavy lifting here would be nice. 

“Take your fuckin’ bot and go.” 

She was going to anyway, not caring about nor needing his permission to steal what they need, but the fact that he’s giving it to them is not lost on V. Maybe it’s his own odd way of showing gratitude for helping tear through Militech soldiers. Or maybe he’s just too tired to give a fuck. 

“I'll walk 'em out,” Dum-Dum offers.

“You here to kick our asses out” 

“Huh? No. Wanted to let you know I like your style,” he points them down a hallway, a door marked exit, “here you go.” 

“Can’t fucking believe that guy,” Jackie grumbles as him and V start out the towards the exit. 

“What is your problem with him? First the couch and now this?” 

“Don’t like the fucker’s tone,” Jackie says opening the exit door, “guy rubbed my dick the wrong way.” 

“Well, maybe you should stop letting random dudes rub your dick,” V teases him for his choice of words as they finally get a breath of fresh air, well, as fresh as Night City air gets. 

“Fuck- oh shit.” 

“Oh fuck.” 

Outside the All Foods gateway is Meredith Stout, surrounded by Militech marked vans and a handful of guards. They block the only exit, standing between the mercs and their vehicles. Meredith’s eyes land squarely on V; lips pulling back in a sneer, eyes brimming with contempt. 

“That the Militech bitch?” 

“Un-fucking-fortunately.” 

“You.” Meredith all but snarls, glaring V down as the mercs walk closer, standing before the corpo. 

“Me.” 

“Hmm, bet you didn’t expect to see me here, did you? Thought you could fuck me over, kill your tail and you could just do whatever you wanted?” 

“You gave me a spiked chip, were going to leave me cleaning up Militech’s mess. You tried to fuck me over first.” 

“And somewhere at the start someone fucked the corp, but in the end the corp always wins. Try as hard as you want, all you’ve done is proven I got nothing to lose by getting rid of you.” 

“Oh but you do,” V’s word make Meredith’s eyebrow raise, “I mean, if you want to know who your mole is.” 

“You know?” 

“Yeah, Maelstrom was so busy trying to fight off your men, didn’t even notice me looking through their computer. Got the file on me, could send it to you, but if you’re just going to kill me, not much point.” 

“Send the file and I’ll let you go.” 

“And how do I know you won’t blow my brains out the second it goes through?” 

“You don’t, but you do know I’ll kill you if you don’t send it.” 

V rolls her eyes and her mask interface lights up as she sends the data to Meredith; the corpo woman’s eyes glowing a bright blue light as it transfers. 

“I fucking knew it,” Meredith blurts out, “Gilchrist you sack of shit.” 

“We good?”

“I got what I needed… you know, this was pretty clever of you.” 

“Was it?” 

“Throw me off, get me to attack the plant, get Maelstrom on your side, but get the info to keep Militech happy too. Bet you’re ten thousand eddies richer and got your bot, didn’t you?” 

“Maybe.” 

“Mind like that, maybe a couple years down the line, you could be standing where I am.” 

And V’s stomach churns, her actions being compared to corporate skullduggery and backstabbing. V did what she had to and in the end she didn’t side with the corp. She bites the inside of her lip and she glares through her mask at the corporate cunt. 

“Think I’d rather ride a sandpaper dildo, actually.” 

Meredith scoffs, “let them through.” 

The sea of Militech soldier parts; the two mercs allowed to walk through. Jackie all but collapses, leaning against his motorcycle, there’s still blood sticking to his hands. She’s still coated in a heavy layer herself. 

“Not going to lie, wasn’t sure we’d make it out of that one. But, hey; no begging, no debt, eddies in a pocket and we got the bot. That’s the way to do biz, V.”

“We make a good team, plus I’m starting to think we’re just really lucky.” 

“Ain't you a ray of sunshine. But, V, it ain't a matter of luck. You decide, chica. Remember that, part of why I love this town. The city of endless opportunity. And brotherly hate. But if you got the cojones and know how to use ‘em, you can do damn near anything.”

“Or die trying.” 

“Even then you go out with a bang! And the street'll talk, the street'll remember. Win-win.”

“Rather the street talk about me while I’m alive to hear it, but maybe that’s just me; so what next?” 

“Call up Dex, let him know we got his bot for him.” 

V does just that, pulling up Dex’s contact and calling him, patching the call into Jackie’s too. Her friend’s optics glowing as the holophone rings. Dex answering after just a moment, puffing away on a cigar in the video panel. 

“How're things lookin’, Miss V?”

“Managed to grab the bot.” 

“And how’d it go? Run into any trouble? And what about the Militech angle, Bug told me you hacked some sort of cred chip?” 

“Course there was trouble, but ended up not even needing the chip. Was ready to spike Maelstrom, when Militech got antsy. While they were ripping each other’s throats out, we got the bot and an extra ten thousand eddies for our trouble.” 

“You got some balls, Miss V.”

“So, what now?” 

“Now, we get to work on doing the job I hired you for- grabbing that biochip. Get some sleep, you and Jackster. Because tomorrow, we start prepping for the real heist. Have a car picking you up in the morning.” 

With that, the fixer hangs up, Jackie and V exchanging looks. 

“What you think he’s got in store for us?” 

“I don’t know, we’re gonna have to play corpo to get into that hotel, should be interesting.” 

“Either way, I’m off for the night,” Jackie says, climbing onto his arch, “hasta luego, V.” 

She waves him off, watching him drive off down the streets of Night City. Her body and mind feel tired, limbs heavy and still caked with blood. But, she’s not sure how well she’ll sleep tonight. Nerves and excitement, there’s no telling what tomorrow will hold. 

[han-shinsuke]

Grand King’s Painting

🥀 o i k a w a x u s h i j i m a 🥀

Do you ever feel tired of everything like really tired that you just wanted to lay in peace on a soft bed and close your eyes for eternity?

How I wish dying is as easy as sleeping.

I’m an accomplished man. I got everything. That's what people around me always says. But I’m not happy. I wished I could tell them. Instead, I am running away. From those people who thought that I’m a happy man.

After all these years of pretensions, I would like to know how it feels like to remove the mask I wear all the time for other people's satisfactions.

“Welcome home, young master, Tooru.” Oh, to be the real Oikawa Tooru once again.

/// t h i r d p e r s o n p o v

Fifteen Years Ago...

Odd. That’s how he sees the boy in olive brown hair and olive green eyes. His character matches the eerie feeling of the house he’s living. Tooru would never want to associate himself with a kid like that. If it wasn’t for the request of his dying grandmother, he won’t be in an old village, living in a mansion where his ancestors used to reside when they were alive. The mansion itself is a home of grandeur but Tooru cannot be persuaded by luxury. Even though he has been living a life of comfort that every kid his age would cry for, Tooru want something else. Something that could not be bought by money.

And the boy standing from the clearing in the woods, is a great example of thing that even him cannot buy.

“You are Grand Raya’s grandchild.” Every denizens in this town knows about it. The St. Vincent’s heir, Tooru Oikawa has arrived. That’s what the local newspaper posted in the front page.

Tooru extrudes his tongue at the boy he have tried bribing with his money, “stop tailing, you damn dog or I’ll throw you and your family out of this old and shitty village.”

Manners, Tooru. Manners. If his mother were here, that’s what she would be saying to him. St. Vincents’ are good people. His father, too. So, why he can’t be like them?

“I am not following you, Tooru. I lived here.” Wakatoshi turns his back at the boy he finds peculiarly beautiful. He would accept him. As long as he stay good and real. Tooru Oikawa will soon agree to be his friend. “Go home, little prince.”

“Freak.” Tooru bites back, walking drastically away from the clearing with Wakatoshi’s timid half-smile face lingering in his mind.

|••|

“I had no choice.” As if his answer matters to the unsaid question, Tooru just shrugged his shoulders and instruct his butler to hand the canvas and paint kit to Wakatoshi who did nothing but just nod.

“Why are you hanging out with him? I’m really curious.” Shigeru finally voiced out his thoughts, stopping the heir from descending down the foyer.

Wakatoshi who have been doing his best to earn Tooru’s trust also stopped on his tracks. What would he say? He thought. Would he deny him?

“I had no choice.” Tooru answers, licking his lips.

The two young boy walks out of the mansion. Passing through the enormous porch and straight on the path towards the garden.

“Why do you keep saying you don’t have a choice? You’re not a corpse.” Wakatoshi lays the canvas and the kit under the bird bath. He face the peculiar beauty in front of him, buffled. “You are alive. Why can’t you choose?”

“I have hundreds of choices. I just don’t know how and which to choose.”

“Have you been dead?”

“What’s with the question?” Tooru dusts the canvas and put it on the easel. Motioning Wakatoshi to move away from the bird bath. What a strange boy for his age. Tooru wanders his mind to the query. Has anyone been dead and came back to life? The idea was crazy.

“If you really treasure your life then you will fight for the choices you are afraid to make. Even the dead get to choose in the afterlife, Tooru.”

Tooru pursed his lips in thin line. Orbs battling against Wakatoshi’s olive ones.

“I let you know a secret, I’m a coward that’s why I chose not to choose.”

|••|

All his damn life, Tooru has been letting his mother and few of those people he trust to choose for him. Whether it’s about the clothes he would wear, the food he would eat or the individuals he would associate himself with, it all depends on them.

To put it simply, Tooru doesn’t trust himself enough to make a choice.

“Of all the worst choices sprawled on the table, why did you pick the worst of them all?” Grand Raya asked her grandchild who have been painting his subject on the wall of his bedroom.

“Do you think he’s a bad choice, grandma?” Tooru pauses, scrutinizing his unfinished work for any additional details. “It was my first time though, choosing what’s best out of the substandard options I had.”

“He may be a substandard for you but have you noticed yourself lately, Tooru? You are changing.” The old woman sat in comfort on the wheeled chair, resting her head between the mounted pillow atop of the soft backrest. “I will sleep for now, wake me up when dinner is ready.”

Grand Raya never opened her eyes again that day when she fell asleep. Tooru have done everything he could to shake his grandma back to life but the old lady had chosen death.

|••|

He is nowhere to be found. At times like these, whenever he feel tired or out of focus, Wakatoshi would appear out of nowhere to give him the boost he might needed to accomplish his task. Tooru dropped his bag on the teak bench in their garden and decided to look for Wakatoshi in the woods where he lived.

“Hey.” Tooru calls the attention of the boy who is currently chopping firewoods in the backyard.

Wakatoshi sways the ax once more, dividing the wood into half before acknowledging the other boy’s presence, “Tooru.” He says, drying the beads of sweats running from his temple down to his face.

“You skipped class.” Tooru and Wakatoshi are both attending the same academy that’s why it was easy for Tooru to notice if his substandard friend is not around.

“I have fever and headache.”

“But you are chopping firewoods.” Oikawa notices that Wakatoshi’s lips is more red than usual. He has fever indeed.

“This will keep me warm later once the temperature drop at midnight.” Wakatoshi gathers the chopped firewoods and bring them inside the cabin.

Oikawa lend a hand and follows the taller boy inside, carrying the remaining woods.

“Have you eaten?”

“Not yet.”

“I’ll make you a porridge. Go to your room.”

It really bothers Tooru why his friend chose to live in the woods when he can afford to purchase a property in the town proper. From what he have heard, Wakatoshi’s parents are both miners and owned a mining company that operates in different countries.

“Still alive?” Tooru asks as he makes himself comfortable to intrude Wakatoshi’s peace.

The brunette sets the porridge on the bedside table and signal his friend to rise and eat the food he prepared.

“Barely alive.” Wakatoshi answered.

The two young souls ate in silence. Eyes stealing glances when one of them is not looking.

That night, Tooru had decided not to go back in his home. Instead, he spends the night attending the sick Wakatoshi who had nightmares due to his high body temperature.

“I’m sorry.” Tooru apologizes, realising his inappropriate action.

Wakatoshi touches his lips. Surprised by Tooru’s sudden lips press on his, “what were you apologizing for?”

Tooru hides his face, too embarrassed to face the boy he used to call freak.

“I kissed you.”

“I like it.”

He was surprised by his reply so he ended up staring at Wakatoshi’s face and lips.

“Wakatos—” Tooru did not get to finish his name. He was pulled by him, down to the bed and underneath his surging warmth.

Wakatoshi looks at him like he is the most exquisite creature in their world, “you are beautiful.” That’s what he said before claiming the brunette’s lips and let the four corners of the room to witness the fiery kiss they shared in the middle of that cold midnight.

|••|

A week later ...

“I can’t find my father’s necklace.”

“Where was the last place you visit?”

“the river near your house, Wakatoshi.”

The next day, he was found dead under the river. Foot jammed between the massive rocks underwater.

Wakatoshi

died

finding

his

miracle’s gem.

|••| P R E S E N T

“Welcome home, young master, Tooru.” Oh, to be the real Oikawa Tooru once again.

The brunette motions the butler to leave him alone and the man obeyed.

“I will see you now, freak.” Tooru smiles, setting down the wheeled chair where his grandmother died with a smile on her lips.

It was a great dream. Tooru saw his young self arguing with Wakatoshi in the garden. The freak was smiling at him while leaning against the bird bath.

“Stop moving, Wakatoshi! You’re gonna ruin my painting!” Tooru yells.

Wakatoshi flashes his rare eye smile and says, “you are really beautiful, Tooru.”

It was just a dream.

But it felt real.

Tooru had chosen.

He’ll stay there.

That’s where he belongs.

Inside Wakatoshi’s warmth.

Tooru Oikawa with the gem pressed tight on his chest... died in his sleep.

|••|

“We’ll get that one,” said the two men who both pointed the decades old painting of a bird bath with a green gem on it.

The old man who sells painting on the street had to bite the inside of his mouth to prevent himself from crying.

The old man is Shigeru, the St. Vinvent’s former butler.

While the two men are Wakatoshi Ushijima and Tooru Oikawa... and this is their another life.

🥀🥀

[levyfiles]

Last week the @skepticbeliever-bookclub prompted us to post a selection of our favourite shyan fics so there’d be a nice little way to highlight all the hidden gems of favourites we might already recognise and love while sharing a few we might never have found otherwise. Last December I posted a little list of some of my favourites so I figured I’d dust off that list with a few new additions of particular favourites I treasure. 

Be All My Sins Remembered by spoopyy

Summary:  In every lifetime, they find each other.

Review: This fic manages to take you on a long journey through what feels like a series of AUs and they all weave in and out of the wealth of their relationship with some vivid descriptions of the historical settings their journey takes them through. As someone who grew up reading Anne Rice’s epics through historical events, this fic is right up my alley. A vampire Shane passing through the wave of human society’s climb searching for a reincarnated Ryan again and again, trying to hold on to him and keep him through great tragedies and timeframes that just don’t let them be together. This was one of the first fics I read when I was only a lurker and to be quite honest, I need to give this one a nice re-read, maybe for the book club which would be loads of fun. Either way, 10/10. Would be Hurt in the heart again.

Perfect Fit by @beaniegara

Summary:  There’s a legend that says anyone able to take all of statue Shane’s cock will summon the god to the mortal realm. Given the statue’s excessive size, no one has ever succeeded to prove or disprove the story. Until Ryan that is.

Review: Listen. You wanna talk actual fandom legends. This fic is one of them and it pulls out all the stops on being delicious and evocative. Also features one of my favourite incarnations of size queen bergara. Good stuff and you’re really rooting for Ryan in this lol.

a prize for rotten judgement  by sarcasticfishes

Summary: “You’d drive each other crazy. You sit together at your office all day, and then you’d be commuting home together, eating dinner together, watching TV together, going to bed — well, not together, but you get it, right?”

It doesn’t sound so awful to Shane. There are worse people he could be spending all his hours with than Ryan Bergara.

Review: The moment I happened to glance at the notes of this and saw that Fie’s secondary title for this would have been Ryan and Shane move to the Suburbs, I about lost it with excitement. Primarily because the show this references is one of my favourite comedies and that is one of my all-time favourite episodes. Let me tell you though, even if the reference is lost on you, this story is so much gold rolled into a heart-gripping tale of two best friends who spend every waking moment together taking the plunge to share a home and they were roommates oh my god they were roommates. Shane is pining and you’ll pine right along with him as you’ll yell and holler for him to stop being so damn real and full of doubt. It really is worth every gasp of pain and all the more for the execution but the delivery will leave you in delight. Certainly had me yelling at the author. This fic is gonna be one of my timeless favourites; I knew it the moment I began.

Everything’s Weird and We’re Always in Danger by beethechange

Summary: Ryan perches on the edge of the bed, an indistinct shape that Shane can only just make out in the dark, so he turns the lamp back on. He wants to see Ryan’s face, wants to know that he is alright. Ryan’s cheeks are damp, his hands fisted in the hideous flowered duvet.

“It won’t go away,” Ryan says miserably. “I’ve been like this since we got here, basically, and it won’t fucking—”

“Ah,” Shane says. “Well, you know, sometimes fear…adrenaline…they can affect people. Physically.” He waves his hands indistinctly crotchward. “It’s a, a scientifically known phenomenon.��� Shane feels a little better staying in the realm of scientifically known phenomena.

Review: Word of advice. You see a fic is authored by beethechange, run don’t walk because you’re absolutely always going to be treated to the best of banter, the best of prose, chemistry, organic execution and feels right up the bottom end of your heart. This fic, this changed everything I thought I knew I wanted out of a bed-sharing fic. It’s got a little bit of two treats here. You got a sex-pollen-esque situation mixed with bed-sharing and holy fucking damn that is more than you think you deserve, but read this because you do deserve the best of the best. The build up, the dialogue, the surprisingly hilarity of it, the hotness woah, and The Aftermath. When you think you know what you’re in for, you’re wrong and you’re most pleasantly surprised. Get this fic in your life and honestly? while you’re at it, you could do a clean sweep of every fic in her list of works and while my less than adequate reading time management may still be short on some of her most well-recommended pieces, I have an adamant faith that Bee doesn’t disappoint. Go get y’all juice.

Maelstrom by thewindupbird

Summary:  Here’s the thing about driving halfway across the country to see someone. You can’t really deny, after that, that you’re pretty much head over heels for them.

Review: Listen. One morning on a day off, I just laid in bed and read this– all 40k+ words– while lying there clutching my pillows, hurting and loving every moment of it. The descriptions of Americana, the slow steady metronome rhythm of Ryan’s feelings as frightened and helpless as they feel when you’re relating deeply to them juxtaposed with the deep-seated struggle of understanding what it is to be with someone you love so much but your mental health is burning quiet holes in your ability to express it in a way that can be understand. Ryan’s fierce determination, breaking through the silence of their non communication is really Everything to me in this fic. i think I really left my heart in the scene in Shane’s parents kitchen. That finished me. Read this fic and understand the deep relief you get when you’ve finished a fight with someone you fiercely care about and they understand you and you understand them and it’s OK; it’s gonna be all right. Augh.

5 times Shane had to overrule Ryan’s “No Homo” + 1 time he didn’t have to by ghoulboyboos

Summary: There was only one thing that would truly drive him up the wall with Ryan, much more than any debate about ghosts ever could: Ryan’s consistent twitches of “no homo” when any sort of physical contract between them happened.

Review: I have such a soft special spot in my heart for this fic particularly because Lud manages to examine a trope I tend to avoid in such a sweet and honest way I couldn’t not love this fic. The story takes a painstaking and very real look at the “no homo” issue as it weaved through the journey that was early days Ryan and Shane. Shane’s reaction to in this and how he communicates with Ryan has such a very heartfelt and once again, real quality to it. I get in my feelings all over again about how far they’ve come and what it meant for Ryan to have Shane there. Lud really nails this piece and it’s a classic in my eyes.

A Burial on Box Hill by InkStainsOnMyHands

Summary: The Celtics believed that the yew flower symbolized both immortality and death. Meanwhile, for centuries, the buxus flower was seen as a symbol for safe passage into the afterlife.

Or,Shane and Ryan were never the same after investigating the Black Forest of Germany alone.

Review: Let me just quote my bookmark comment here. Usually I flee from tragedy like a cat spotting a cucumber but the brevity and the prose dragged me in and now I’m a functioning mess. Bless this fic. Oh my god it’s short and reads like one of those quick horror stories you’ll read to your friends just as the scary stories are transitioning from the urban legends to the ones that feel real. Big warning for main character death but still read it if you appreciate a good story told.

Body Farming by shiphitsthefan

Summary: Failed suppressants and a surprise heat: the worst of cliches, and here Ryan stands, living the trope on location with the alpha he’s hopelessly in love with. Even worse, they’re spending the night in the famous Bell Witch Cave, completely alone and with no way to contact the outside world.

Ryan knows he can survive and keep his preheat a secret, as long as Shane will stop being so protective and concerned. After all, it’s not like Shane wants to bond with him.

Right?

Review: Now judging from the reactions of many people I’ve spoken to, big heavy ABO kink is not popular here but guys, GUYS. This one. Let this one in I promise it is not what you think it is. The dynamic is organic and the worst side of the trope is subverted in all the best ways and lord help us, the smut is hot, like swelteringly smoking. It’ll stay with you.

Believer by cellard00rs

Summary:  Some demons and otherworldly creatures love climbing up the power ladder. Shane is not one of these. He likes where he is (thank you very much) and has no interest in moving up. All he wants is to give his friend Ryan a nice birthday gift. So, naturally, everything goes to hell.

Review: This fic is another fandom legend. When I think demon!Shane. It’s this and one other one that always pops right into my mind. This was my first exposure to the bureaucracy meets the supernatural!Shane trope and I was sold from the get-go. The Shane in this fic is everything I imagine a demon!Shane is and his ginger care for Ryan, the concept of their bond and how even though Shane is a demon and responsible for keeping the supernatural a firm secret from Ryan and the rest of the world, his skepticism is relayed through his status as a demon. I want to talk more about it but I think so much of the enjoyment comes from the surprises as the plot unfurls.

hey boy, take a look at me by weakspots

Summary: Ryan is 27, for Christ’s sake, and he’s not exactly hideous, so there’s really no reason to spend his money on a dude — a dude — whose face he’ll never see but whose livestreams he’s been jerking off to for roughly 4 months now. He should be going out and partying and fucking random chicks. Or a guy, whatever, just to get it out of his system and confirm to himself that he really is 100% straight.

Because he is. This is morbid curiosity, if anything.

Review: I’ve been a long-time fan of this universe and it was a universe I didn’t know I needed until this author gave it to us. We or rather me, a desperate audience, just devoured this with every update. Not only is it hot, but it has the delicious intrigue of secret identity, anonymous stuff and a LOT of blush-worthy prose therein. This version of Shane makes me thrive but the titillating nature of straight-identifying!Ryan being bowled over by the turn of events that leads him to his world tilting into the gravity of a camboy just--you Have to read this one!

Heartbeat by quackers

Summary:  So the guy Ryan sits next to at work is a vampire. That’s no big deal, right?

Review: I could talk your literal ear off about this fic. Vampires, man. I love the trope; you don’t know me as a person if you don’t know this at least. And this fic kept me fed all damn year. It was a readable garden. If there is one thing I can guarantee about quackers’ work, it’s that their world-building is a festival of detail. The realms and alternate universes they work with while still managing to keep Shane and Ryan’s voices so familiar and real is a talent not attributed to your everyday author. This fic propelled me into wanting to write more and more because quackers makes stories so much fun! Reading their work is, to me, not unlike the feeling I got when I was younger and finding series that speak to my need to escape this crummy existence, made me want to believe in fun spicy things like a vampire that lived through centuries, cynical but still searching, navigating a world where people are still people, adjusting to differences and prejudices, finding comfort in a guy that understands that and more. I’ve talked about this fic in more than a few different posts so I’d just be reiterating a lot of things I loved about the more historical aspects of Shane’s journey, the way Ryan is so firmly curious and inventive in ways to connect with Shane. Look, even if vampires aren’t your thing, I can promise that if you visit quackers list of work, you will find something for your supernatural-lovin’ palate that speaks to a gentler side of your own curiosity about monsters and the jocks that love them. lol.

I’ll Crawl Home by carrieonfighting

Summary:  “Shane was almost unnerved by how quickly he’d settled into this body, this name, this life - his friendship with Ryan was the most time he’d spent with any human before, and yet the man fascinated him.”

Review: This is the second fic I think of when someone says the words ‘demon!Shane’ to me because ohhhh my word, this fic is a masterpiece. I really am hard-pressed to find anything better than the feeling I get when I think of demon!Shane headcanons interwoven with the irl Buzzfeed reality and the idea of the Ryan as we know him being protected and watched and loved so deeply by a demon that found him so long ago and wanted nothing but to protect him. I feel an almost vicious glee reliving that moment when Ryan and Shane are on goatman’s bridge and man, I just really love canonical fic mixed with a slight twist. The writing in this makes it work so well with lines that still haunt my heart and soul like “Ryan liked popcorn. So did the demon. Genuinely, not just out of a desire to please the human – he liked the way it crunched between his vessel’s teeth. There were some aspects of taking a corporeal form that were… nice; laughing, coffee, feeling warm. Ryan made him laugh.” FUCK! The beautiful agony of it, watching the demon fall in love with Ryan through the eyes of his vessel. Just stark with pain and unspoken, well-written angst and pain with a perfect ending, I wouldn’t change for anything. I love this for us as a fandom and will always love that author crafted this piece and shared it with us. (Also every time I hear Work Song by Hozier, I think of this fic again and sigh).

[justalarryblog]

You’re in San Paulo?! That’s like 13 hours behind from me. Also, I was just curious of our timezones that’s why I asked but I don’t mind extra information 😉. Apologies for the late response, i’m currently on the Laboratory so busy busy. I like rich fics like Escapade, they’re just something about them that are powerful and sophisticated (this is just basically my excuse to reading something about spending all their moneys) though not many have given justice to the Rich tags. Once I get home, I’ll send you the list of my comfort fics and the ones I can still remember the entire plot (rare because my memory can be shit) and we can talk if you’ve read them already! And a list of my favourite writers whom whose works I have read more than once!!

It took me forever to understand how they’re gonna give birth and I was so confused how they get pregnant because you know primary biology but then I realised it’s fictions therefore it’s anything and everything!! Who knows, maybe in another Universe Harry finally achieved his dream of becoming pregnant and finally had 20 children. (I personally don’t like children nor am I interested in having sex and getting pregnant).

Also, don’t worry. Arrow and I won’t be dropping names of fictions because our opinions are unpopular and we can’t have the entire kids from twitter bothering us here in tumblrs because we’re having a go at their favourite fiction. And Arrow, same! 30 pages and 500K words with and entire 20 series of pinings, shitload of misunderstandings/miscommunications is a no no for me, slow burn is a waste of time for me. Though I genuinely appreciate stories that are full of beautiful beautiful descriptive languages. Arrow and I are definitely gonna have a go at your Slow Burns, i’ve read some major character deaths though with afterlife shit.

- J

Oh my 13 hours away? You're far ahead of me! AND GO BACK TO WORK/STUDY! hadkshasdhjaks

No worries, you have nothing to apologise for. :)

I agree with you about the Escapade thing, it's really nice when you're rich and can do whatever, right? At least we can dream. hahahaha

Oh please send me the list, I'm curious to know it!

Same with me about how mpregs worked LMAO. It's just a matter of letting your imagination go and it's fine. I don't intend to have kids myself too, but I'm a sucker for kid fics and mpregs.

About you and @arrowpointshome it's fine, it was just a reminder because things were getting a bit too specific so I didn't want to risk, but it's fine. But now that I know that Bree doesn't like slow burn fics, I know what kind of fics do not rec her HAHAHAHAHAHAHA Bree, you had one job... our friendship was supposed to be great. LMAO

Oh, afterlife fics I'm.... mmm not a fan... (I know, I know... I can be picky with some stuff). Nothing against them, just not interested. 🤷‍♀️ (I have a weird taste okay?!?! LMAO)

[dontasktheradiodemon]

Emotional Support, $500/hour

Alastor hires Angel for his services. No, not those services. The "provide sympathy and advice for some poor loser who's found himself unwillingly stuck in a soap opera" services. Although Angel would far rather do it as a friend rather than for pay.

Tumble mobile is a piece of crap that won't let me post an entire chat log in one post, and I don't want to wait eight hours to post this when I get home, so gonna post this in two chunks. Part one:

Alastor

A text arrives at one of the numbers written up on the walls around Pentagram City:

"Is this Angel Dust's business line?"

Hella formal.

Angel

An identifying ring sounded from Angel's drawer. Not the type that'd fire warning bells in his head, but the sort he preferred to hear from his hotel room.

Time to go to work.

[ The one and only, Toots! 💋 What can I do ya for? 💕 ]

Alastor

"What are your rates just for private conversation? Nothing sexual. I need somebody to talk to."

Angel

Angel reread the message. Once. Twice. A couple more times. Usually he didn't get this type of request on this number, but a part of him was relieved.

[ Ya talkin' companion rates, Babe? I typically run that 500 by the hour, but dependin' on the kinda secrets I'm gonna be keepin', I could drop or ask fa a tip. It's a pretty accurate ballpark, though. Have I lost ya? ]

Alastor

There’s a longer pause before the next reply.

(The pause is for Alastor to go “Five hundred dollars?! FIVE HUNdred DOL*LARS*?! *FIVE—*”)

“I can manage that.”

It’s not going to be *his* money.

Angel

[ Sounds good! Where ya gonna be wantin' me, Sweetheart? Just so ya know, I'm gonna need those bills in my hands before we get down to any business. ]

Alastor

“I’ll have them. The hotel just outside Cannibal Colony’s northern entrance. I’ll let you know the room number.”

It’s a middling sort of hotel. It’s alright.

Angel

[ Alright, I know the area. I'll be there in about fifteen. ]

He didn't know the area. But Angel couldn't let an unknown client know that. Furthermore, last he was there he had himself QUITE THE WELCOMING. So by his better judgement, he asked Bel for directions without running the risk of getting shot this time. He'd find his way.

Alastor

And Alastor is gonna spend the next fifteen minutes cordially threatening the first people he sees who look well-dressed and stupid enough to be carrying around several hundred dollars, and then bolting for the hotel.

He’s settling down on the room’s couch and texting Angel the number at about the same time Angel probably ought to be walking in the front door.

Angel

_Rap rap._ He's not the police, so he saves announcing himself. Nonetheless his senses are alert, his limbs folded deceptively casual before his torso. Anxieties aside, he's expecting an easy job. As soon as he can confirm it's a real job and not a hold up.

Alastor

Alastor’s shadow opens the door for him.

He glances over from the couch. “Right on time.” He gestures to an arm chair across from the couch. Surprise!

Angel

Angel looks at his phone. The room number. His phone again. They surely match up exactly, don't they? A rather robotic wave to Alastor's shadow, just to be polite, before he pokes his head in without crossing the doorframe.

_" ... What. Am I bein' punk'd 'ere!? "_ Arms flail wildly as his eyes dart about the room in search of clues he might not get from the real deal on the couch. " THIS where ya been holdin' the crock pot hostage?? "

Alastor

“Do come in and shut the door before you start shouting, would you? I *am* trying to be discreet, here.” Proof of that claim: he’s actually using an indoor voice for once.

There’s no crock pot. No nothing else, either—he got the room less than five minutes ago just for this, he hasn’t touched a thing and he didn’t bring any personal effects. Just him, sitting cross-armed on the couch.

He uncrosses his arms, fishes a wallet out of his pocket, and slides several bills half out. See? He’s legit. “I have enough here for—let’s see—about three hours and twenty-five minutes. Hopefully I won’t need that much, but.” A jerky shrug.

Angel

His face fell and stiffened into a vague sternness. Wordlessly he stepped around the shade and soundlessly shut the door. This energy was too weird. He didn't trust it. He didn't like it. Either he or Alastor was running the risk of being made a bigger fool than Narcissus in the pond. Fittingly, neither one of them would risk their egos for something so trivial.

He was MORE than serious.

Angel passed the arm chair, instead taking a knee before him and lowering a hand over the wallet. " I'm not takin' ya money, Al. The fuck's goin' on? "

Alastor

“Oh, don’t worry about *that,* it’s not my money. It properly belongs to...” He pulls a card out of the wallet and squints at it. “Mr. Bee. Ironically, he looked more like a parrot.”

But he doubts that’s going to satisfy Angel. “I’m not talking to you as a friend. I’m hiring your services as a professional. I need your expert advice on a matter. And if I’m asking you to do your job, I *am* going to pay you for it.”

Angel

Angel rose a brow higher than his last hit. At the very least he could relax, but he was still dumbfounded -

_... as a friend?_ If he weren't a professional, he'd be asking him as a friend? The corner of his mouth twitched. It seemed more likely that he wouldn't be asking him at ALL if he weren't professional.

Regardless, he was wasting his energy trying to figure him out on his own. " What in the Nine's could ya be askin' _me_ for? " A short exhale before shifting his back against the armchair. " Save fa givin' yaself a day coma, I thought ya... pretty good at keepin' ya shit together... "

Alastor

Alastor rifled through the wallet to see if Mr. Bee had any interesting membership cards worth stealing—museums, day spas, secret societies, etc.—before sitting forward and holding the wallet out to Angel. “Are you taking it? Because I’m not telling you why I’m asking you unless you’re on the clock.”

Angel

" Alright alright, lemme see, " Angel lied with little to no intention of sitting on it. He flipped through the bills and counted them off by the hour before placing them on the table beside him. " ...120, 180, remainder a 25. 205 minutes of complete and undivided attention, in part or in full. You're set, Smiles. "

Alastor

Alastor watched as Angel counted. “All right.” He took a deep breath, let it all out. His gaze didn’t move from the table to Angel. “I could use—relationship advice.”

Angel

He could BURST with the sheer force of that bombshell, but Angel kept his cool as he made his sprawl of limbs comfortable from the floor. " Ya... gotta secret squeeze around 'ere or somethin? Cannibal gal ya came out t' see? "

Alastor

Alastor laughed ruefully. Wouldn’t that be convenient—some cute little lady to have a predictably heterosexual little afterlife with, sharing all of his shallow surface-level preferences—home era, musical theater, cannibalism—he could pick from any of a dozen ladies he’d passed since arriving in the Cannibal Colony that afternoon who would leap at the chance.

“Not a squeeze,” he said. “Not a gal, either.”

Angel

Well, he was _laughing,_ but it wasn't the good kind. Angel leaned an elbow over a seat of the sofa, keeping all signs of his own personal glee from his face.

Most of it.

" Do tell. "

Alastor

By this point, he wasn’t looking anywhere near Angel. Okay. Now or never. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, twisting his laced hands together. “Advice.” Like saying it again would keep this to some emotionally neutral info-gathering consultation. “What do you—How should one handle it, if... one has... sentiments, for one’s best friend, that he doesn’t reciprocate.” His stomach churned. “Andhe’s found out.”

He had very few people he publicly acknowledged as friends, particularly not somewhere Angel would have seen it. Only one of them was a man. He braced himself for an outburst of shock/amusement as Angel worked out who he was talking about.

Angel

Oh this was FAR from strictly transactional. They all pretty much lived together. Their interpersonal lives would be intertwined for the unspecified future. Said best friend was ENGAGED... to Angel's own best friend.

Again, Angel's eyes flickered about the room. This wasn't a Lifetime movie. This wasn't a hidden camera show. This was gonna be their life now and he'd be DAMNED if that sort of mess could be sorted by a few hundred dollars or so.

He just took a deep breath and stated the facts. Any generic advice he had on hand wouldn't be helpful. " You're his best man, Al. _What_ were ya thinkin'? "

Alastor

He squeezed his eyes shut as if Angel had just reared back to sock him in the face. He would have preferred amusement. “*I didn’t want him to kn—*”

He choked on his own static. He took a shuddering breath. “I don’t want—They make him happy, *that’s* what I want. Him happy. I don’t want to interfere, I just—“ He had to stop again. Unprofessional. Management would’ve given him a stern talking to after a performance like this.

He lifted his laced hands, pressing the knuckles of his thumbs to his eyelids. “I didn’t tell him. He figured it out.”

Angel

Angel expected defensiveness from trying to pry some more from him, to pass an air of judgement for the sake of pulling out whatever emotions he was trying so hard to hide beneath professionalism. He thought Alastor would HANDLE IT.

Not fall into whatever _this_ was. The Alastor he knew was nothing short of _UNBREAKABLE._ It was as surreal as it was painful to witness. _What could be possibly offer him?_ A simple question suddenly felt loaded and heavy.

" _Hey hey hey._ " Angel rose from the floor and perched upon the sofa facing him. " He's a smart guy. You're expressive as shit. Even performin's got... some of ya in it... Ya can't help ALL OF IT. " He leaned forward, just enough to duck below Alastor's falling level. " ... What he... have t' say about it...? "

Alastor

In a week, maybe he could have been calm and collected and above it all. But it was yesterday. It felt like it was an hour ago. The wounds were still raw, literally.

A sharp nod. “It was unavoidable.” He’d realized that the moment it happened. He still hated, hated, hated it.

“Oh, you know.” Another humorless laugh. He dropped his hands and stared tiredly down at them. “He’s furious, he feels betrayed, he feels used... he believes he still wants to be my friend but if he so much as *looks* at me before he’s ready for it he’ll hate me forever...” He shrugged wearily.

Angel

" That's why ya out here, " he stated with a toss of an arm over the backrest, " I DON'T know. How's he feelin' used? Ya never... did anythin' to 'im, did ya? I mean, since you was tryin' so hard to just keep it in, I can't imagine you HAVE. " Angel racked his memories a moment, but drew blanks. He couldn't think of any reason, for both not knowing enough and such a notion conflicting his own direct experience.

" It's... YOU hurtin' 'ere, from what I see. He's got Valera, they gonna be tyin' the knot soon. You've been... " He swallowed thickly. " There fa him. Tell me why. There's - " Words caught in his throat. Words that may have saved him from damnation had they been said to him when he needed to hear them. " Ain't nothin' wrong... wit' feelin' what ya feelin'. "

Alastor

A nod. That’s why he’s out here.

“Because any time we interacted, there was more to it—more than he was bargaining for. More than he knew about.” He had himself back under control, but his tone was subdued. Almost emotionless. Not very Radio Demon. “We hugged, we cuddled. Napped together.” And was he justified in feeling used over that? All Alastor could say was that he’d felt guilty about it the entire time—that he’d dreaded that maybe he *was* using him. “I *tried* to make sure he was always the one who initiated. It didn’t always end up that way.” He remembered holding him in his arms when he’d fainted, telling himself it was justified because he was just supporting him until he woke back up. He’d been *unconscious.* “He said he couldn’t really consent to anything we did because he didn’t know what he was consenting to.”

Angel

" And he's puttin' that on you? Smiles, ya owed 'im nothin' more than ya wanted 'im knowin'. It didn't change nothin'. Ya still gave him everything he wanted and needed from ya. You think ya owe him a reengineerin' of the parts a ya you can't change, too? He may... own ya... but he can't... change ya. Not like that. "

Realizing he may have been projecting a little too much, Angel cleared his throat. " Lovin' 'im a lil' different don't take away from everythin' ya already had. I dunno why he'd feel so... THREATENED by ya unless he... ain't cool wit' you bein' a guy, but any guy who's that comfy wit' his friends can't be straight 'imself, ah? " He forced a chuckle, but he knew that wasn't the point.

" Ya still... didn't have motives, Al, ya didn't take advantage of him. Ya didn't go underminin' everything he's workin' for. Right? No matter how you was feelin'... he still came first. Now if ya ask me, that's PRETTY FUCKIN' STUPID. But he has ya. Had ya. Whatever happens. He's got it all an' then some just t' kick ya to the curb... " Angel crossed his arms. " Ya don't deserve that. He's got some apologizin' t' do to you. I'd drag ya back to the hotel an' give 'im a piece a my mind right NOW... but y'ain't gonna want that, huh? "

Alastor

*He may own you.* Something inside Alastor twisted in pain and boiled up in fury—because it was true. Some part of him had been seized away and he was never getting it back, and that was the *worst* part of this. He muttered, “I wish I could reengineer it. Not for *him* but for *me.* I don’t want this.”

He shook his head. “It’s not because I’m a man, that never came into it. He isn’t straight.” He says this with the confidence of somebody who definitely absolutely totally knows that this is a fact, despite the fact that he has not, actually, been told so.

No, of course he’d never undermined him, he would never—but that didn’t necessarily mean he hadn’t, at the same time, taken advantage. Taken liberties he shouldn’t have, here and there. The idea that *he* might be owed an apology was laughable. Alastor wasn’t laughing. “No, absolutely not, don’t say a *single* word to him. As soon as this conversation ends, I never told you anything and you don’t know any of it.”

Angel

" Didn't think so. " Angel dropped his cheek into his hand and studied him. Something changed. He was being short with him. He perused his words, robotic and unnatural, searching for what did it. It was the price he paid for rambling.

" But ya _do,_ want it. You'd want it if things were different, if he felt the same about you. Tell me I'm wrong an' I'll eat my words wit' a side a fries. " He closed his eyes and hummed into his palm. " Whatever closure ya needin' ya gotta find it. " Angel hesitated to volley ideas, as he knew they'd be leaving his mouth astronomically hypocritical. But he wasn't being paid to play by example, was he? " Ya can count on Penny t' come around and give it to ya, but if ya do that you could be fuckin' exiled forever an' give up the front seat to watchin' Charlie's redemption plans go to shits. Sure it's a lotta fun out 'ere, but it ain't no 1929 fun. "

" Or, ya can wipe ya face. Get off ya ass. Make sure ya got all that's goin' on outta ya system. An' find somethin' new to pour yaself into that's got nothin' t' do with him. And keep doin' it until he's got less an' less a hold on ya until... you're feelin' free an' yourself, again. An' he'll just 'ave to deal with whatever that means if he wants to be stayin' friends with ya. 'Cause ya done ENOUGH. "

Alastor

"You *are* wrong." There's an edge of desperation in his voice. "If he said he felt the same and he made me that offer—yes, I'd take it. But if I could actually choose, if I was given a *real* choice? Between being with him and—and having this taken out of me and being *free?* I'd want to be free! I'd choose that in a heartbeat! I'd rather be his friend!"

And he *knew* that was what he'd choose because he *had* chosen it. Back before he realized that freedom was no longer an option. He'd lost a piece of his heart he was never getting back.

He listened to Angel's suggestions. Let out a long, slow sigh. And asked tiredly, "Is that it?"

Angel

" Then ya gonna have to prove it to yourself first babe 'cause ya ain't soundin' convincin'. " Angel ducked below his line of sight again as if it'd grant him a different perspective. " If this sorta thing had a magical fix, you'd know a lot better than me. But it don't. Ya just gotta... "

He frowned. He wouldn't be able to keep the promise of pretending this never happened. " ... keep at it... keep talkin'... maybe you'll wake up tomorrow feelin' inspired. Maybe you'll wish ya never woke up at all, but... it's all ya can do, Smiles. It's gonna take time. " Angel didn't like leaving it at this, but he found himself unsure. With other clients, he could leave them with the best and never hear of the results. So long as he stayed at the hotel, _he was going to end up WATCHING HIM every step of the way._

But he still didn't know how he needed to be taken care of. If Alastor knew himself, he wouldn't have solicited. " Good thing we got all the time in the world down 'ere to find new things to fuck ourselves up with, ah? " He reached out and gently pat the sofa cushion in place of his knee, in place of taking his hand. " You'll... get there. You're the fuckin' Radio Demon. I dunno how ya do half the shit ya do but this is gonna be one a them things. Say it. "

Alastor

"Would it sound more convincing to you if I destroyed everything he'd ever worked for *just* to ensure we could never have a life together? Would that be convincing enough for you?" Alastor snapped. "*Because I did.*"

He shoved himself off the couch to start pacing. "I've *tried* pouring myself into something new to keep him off my mind. I've *been* trying it for the last *fifty-four years.* That's why I'm at the hotel in the first place! It's why I know *how long* you can *kill yourself* with a bottle of 190 proof booze!" He flung his hands up in despair. "I've been trying to *feel like myself* again since 1966, and all I can do is—distract myself! Distract myself and suppress it until the next time I'm reminded of him!" He let out a brittle laugh, "And smear what I feel for him around to all of his duplicates!"

He rounded on Angel. "I've joined musicals, worked in restaurants, moved to a cultish commune, been an alcoholic, gone to therapy, traveled the nine circles, signed onto every harebrained scheme and plot in Hell—including the hotel!—and more things I can't even remember off the top of my head, and on top of *that* put over half a century between me and him, *and he's still stuck in my heart.* I've tried every piece of advice I've ever heard for how to fall out of love and they *haven't worked!* So give me something *new!* Give me something I *haven't tried!* You're the professional!"

He collapsed onto the armchair Angel hadn't taken. He wasn't sure if getting all that out of his system had really helped. He kind of felt like he'd just projectile vomited.

Angel

" Dupli-? ... _Fuck..._ " Angel dropped his cheek into his palm with the rest of his body taking up the empty space on the sofa. This ran much deeper than he thought. The root of his issues didn't even have anything to DO with the Pentious he knew. Likely beyond anything he could possibly say. Hadn't Alastor been so sweepingly BROAD when he came in, he could've been more careful, but- _ah seemed like he tired himself out._

**_Ya DONE?_**

" That kinda miracle workin' ain't on my resume, " he said bleakly with a broad sweep of an arm, " Ya called me fa someone to talk to, not t' be the answer to all ya problems. " As much time as he spent hearing out the woes of the damned, usually all that was really wanted from him was a crank. An easy enough temporary fix. Not here.

He stood up now. Trying to build him up from below didn't seem to be working. Alastor responded only when he called him out, questioned the half-hearted assertions playing from his mouth like a weathered record. Was that what he needed? To be spiritually disemboweled until he purged all the poison from his soul onto the tarp? He didn't like this. He didn't like it at all. He wanted to call the job off. He couldn't do it. This was too personal and psychologically visceral.

But even moreso, he couldn't give up on and leave him there for much of the same reason he couldn't leave him at the bar. Self destruction was a BITCH to be going through alone. And at the root of it all, Alastor made it clear enough he didn't want to be alone by calling him there.

Angel braced a long arm over the back of his chair so he could drill him in the eye. " Believe me, if I had it all I'd give it to ya, but all I got is this. If ya want ya stolen money back, fine, Al. If ya wanna keep yellin', 'ave at it, Al. Lay out all the shit that's been dry doggin' ya since '66. So I can get it. REALLY GET IT. 'Cause ya holdin' out on me. An' if ya really wanna get the most outta ya hours. Ya gotta keep goin'. "

Alastor

A corner of his mouth twitched. Miracle working. "Of course. Of course, you're right—I'm not expecting a miracle. Not in Hell."

He slouched forward, elbows on his knees again, running one hand through his hair—it was still partially stiff with the hair gel he hadn't managed to shower out at Rosie's, he hadn't bothered to restyle it.

He hadn't liked... that. He still felt sick. "No, I don't want a refund," he said. "I—don't think I want to keep yelling, either." He was silent a moment, trying to figure out what he *did* want from all the things he didn't want, mentally chasing something elusive. It had made perfect sense when he'd tracked down Angel's number—talk to a professional, someone whose job was all about desire and attraction, someone who'd probably dealt with thousands of broken-hearted clients; while Alastor's had only broken once, and just never been put back together.

And now that they were talking Alastor couldn't quite figure out what he wanted. Maybe he really had been hoping for a miracle.

*Ya gotta keep goin'.* All right. "I don't particularly want to talk about '66, either—but..." He took a deep breath. "There was a day when I had a choice—happily ever after with him; or run for the hills, toss aside those emotions, and go back to being who I'd been before I—fell. I chose to run. Destroy everything and run. So—when I *say* that I'd choose freedom over requited feelings... even if it doesn't sound convincing to you, I need you to know that I'm telling the truth. Because I *did* choose it. Or—tried." He looked at Angel, waiting for his reaction—waiting to see if he was believed. Because he needed to be believed. Everyone else in the world only said they didn't want love when they couldn't make it work out—and if Angel lumped Alastor in with them, then... then they would be speaking two different languages that had the same words but different meanings, never actually communicating. If Alastor couldn't make himself understood, he was still alone.

Angel

Angel took a deep breath before sinking to the floor again. " I believe ya. Just gotta say it with conviction, ah? " he said heavily with a fold of his arms over the armrest. As Alastor spoke, he tried to put himself in his place. When he was posed with as monumental a choice, he made the opposite decision. And regretted it with everything he had. Not only was there no miracle working in Hell: there were no choices for the better, either. You were damned whether or not you believed something was too good to be true or fell into the trap. Angel had dived headfirst when he should've trusted that he knew himself better than to believe it'd end well for him.

" How'd it fall through? " he posed with a drop of his chin into his arms, " He bait ya back? " Angel found himself listening with new acoustics. They'd both been in ruins for decades for strikingly similar reasons: trapped by the clutches of toxic loves neither of them want, when they never felt anything of the sort prior. A tragic First they were still fighting. Perhaps he had something to offer him afterall. Perhaps he could support him in a way only few could. He could only hope it'd be enough.

Alastor

“No.” Alastor slid off his chair, too; it didn’t feel right, sitting higher. They should be on eye level with each other. “No, that was—that was why I destroyed everything before I left. To ensure he *wouldn’t* try to bait me back. To make sure he wouldn’t want to. And he didn’t want to. He hasn’t.” Huff. “You saw him on my first day at the hotel! And that’s the longest conversation we’ve had since I left. No, he didn’t do anything. It just...” He shrugged helplessly. “Didn’t fade for me. It’s *supposed* to fade, everyone tells you it’s supposed to fade. It never did.”

Angel

" Oh. That was. " _Let's just pretend he knew from the beginning that they weren't the same demon._ Angel darted his eyes to the corner of the room as he slinked off the armrest. _Yeah. TOTALLY KNEW,_ he lied to himself as he faced Alastor and made himself comfortable. Odd of him to follow his habit. " ... him. " He then cleared his throat. " Yeah, it... doesn't... really... " Angel echoed with a perch of his arms over his ankles. " So... what's ya plan...? Ya gonna just... camp out 'ere 'till ya figure it out? "

Alastor

“That was him,” Alastor said grimly. “My *ex.*” The word was sour on his tongue. Such a fitting word. “And what did I do, I immediately blew up his ship again. Terrific work on my part. Well done.”

A shrug. “Wait at Rosie’s until either he comes calling or I decide he never will, I suppose, and then figure out what to do from there. The—the new ‘he,’ I mean. The one I’m friends with now.” He paused, considering that. “Was friends with.”

Angel

" I'll say. " Blowing up an exe's property sounded perfectly justifiable to him, and it wasn't just Cherri's influence. But he guessed if Alastor felt bad about it that only meant he preferred other ways of moving on.

" Rosie... she... busy a lot? Ya got enough company out 'ere? "

Alastor

“Oh, everyone loves me in the Cannibal Colony. All the ladies swoon and all the men beg me to come over for dinner. I can’t go half a block without getting roped into small talk and dance numbers.” He didn’t sound terribly enthusiastic about it. But he added, “I have better company here than I do anywhere else in Hell,” and *that* was completely true.

Angel

" Well... sounds like a good place fa ya to be... " Angel pondered some. Of course Cannibal Colony was his personal wonderland. But there must be something missing for him to leave, he figured. " Pause the clock for a sec, " he said with a clear of his throat, " Rosie got room fa one more? "

Alastor

“I don’t want a roommate.” He gave the answer immediately; and then, after a moment, grudgingly, asked, “Are you trying to get away from the hotel?”

Angel

" I ain't askin' t' be ya roommate, " he growled, " YOU'RE the one turnin' tail 'ere. " With that, Angel snapped his fingers. " Clock's back on. I ain't ya friend no more. "

Alastor

Alastor stared at him, lost. “Th—No, pause the clock—Then what *are* you asking?”

Angel

He crossed his arms and eyed him sternly. " If ya... " A sigh. He already knew the answer. " If ya need a friend, Al. Ya gonna be out 'ere for fuckall knows how long. Ya goin' through it. Would be much easier if all I had to do was turn a corner instead a hikin' all the way over whenever ya felt like stealin' a wallet. "

Alastor

All right, that was what he’d originally thought. He didn’t know why Angel got *offended* that Alastor hadn’t wanted a favor that had been offered for Alastor’s benefit—but then it wasn’t the first time, was it? “I don’t want a friend nearby. I don’t want to be *watched* while I’m... thinking things over. I need to have that distance.” He unconsciously glanced toward the wallet as he said the last word.

Angel

" That mean ya done? " he asked with a toss of his chin down Alastor's line of sight.

Alastor

He snapped his gaze back to Angel. “No. No, just—have to look somewhere, don’t I?” Deep breath. “Sorry. Distracted. Where were we?”

Angel

He actually pulled him back. Color Angel surprised. " Ya blew up his shit, it didn't do ya no good, ya made a mean jambalaya... "

Alastor

“*Right.* Yes. That’s not the one I wanted to talk about. *He’s* not the one I wanted to talk about. I just—needed you to know the context, but... The one I’m friends with now. That one.”

Angel

" Yeah. The one who kicked ya to the curb after ya tore yourself the fuck apart tryin' to be who he wanted ya to be instead a seein' an' appreciatin' ya fa who you are, " he stated matter of factly with a moderate sweep of his arm, " _That one._ Pen. "

Alastor

It stung to hear. Another little needle jammed into his heart, right alongside all the others already buried in. "If I was tearing myself apart to be who he wanted, then he *couldn't* see who I really was, could he? I've been more or less lying to him as long as he's known me. He's got every right to distrust me."

Angel

" More or less, " Angel echoed, " So ya _not_ entirely convinced you were completely in the wrong. " His eyes challenged him. Though the secondary six didn't have pupils, an eerie weight carried through. " It's 'cause you're not. "

Alastor

"I *meant* in the sense that even when I wasn't *actively* lying, I was lying by omission." He shook his head. "Even if I... It's nothing I don't deserve anyway—in general, in a... you know, a karmic sense. Years ago, I stabbed a version of him in the heart; now he stabs me in the heart. He was probably... *selected,* on some celestial level, to be my punishment." He'd been doing a valiant job of keeping at least a ghost of a smile on his face, but it was starting to waver now. "I knew this wasn't going to work. Of course we couldn't be friends—he was just thrown in my path to rip open the wounds I'd gotten too good at ignoring. If it had a chance of working, we wouldn't have been allowed to meet."

Angel

" What's the point a harpin' on about what ya do an' don't deserve if there ain't no redemption to be had? That cross on ya chest ain't ever gonna flip. " _Catholic,_ he heard Alastor's voice echo in his head. How he _loathed_ those places of worship. Even before being damned his skin burned with rancor every time he crossed an altar. And he did so many times with and without a Colt tucked into his coat. " What'cha expectin' to be comin' outta sufferin' like a good lil' sinner? 'Cause no matter how many times I dunked my wank hand into the holy water, " he said curtly as he signed himself, " I kept missin' the memo. " Intentionally. But he could play dumb for now if it helped him drag some religious trauma out of him.

Alastor

"I don't expect anything to come out of it but more suffering. I don't expect a reward, redemption, or respite. But—and here's the key part—I don't expect anything to come out of denial and resistance, either. Either way, I'm going to suffer and nothing's going to improve. Because this is *Hell,* and *nothing* gets better, and only a *damn fool* tries to improve his lot. Even if he succeeds, it's only because Hell is letting him set himself up for an even greater fall." He crossed his legs loosely, propping his elbow on a knee and his chin in his hand, letting his fingers half cover his mouth. "This situation is just further proof of that."

Angel

" So ya called me just so you can fuck yourself over a lil' more? Ya " damn fool " ? 'Cause if ya lookin' to get fucked UP an' do it RIGHT, that's up my alley, too. " Angel flashed a crooked smirk and waved a his hand. He wasn't serious. However, he _did_ fundementally disagree. " I'm kiddin'. Kiddin'. But ya know. So long as we're stuck kickin' around, sufferin', may as well keep things interestin', " he droned with a shift to his knees so he could reach Alastor's shoulder, " Keep takin' chances. Keep chasin' the next best thing. Keep doin' what'cha do. It ain't gonna matter an' it's always gonna suck, but at least ya get ya kicks outta watchin' other demons handle it a lot worse than you, ah? "

Alastor

He laughed weakly. "I've tried getting f#%ked up." A muffled beep obscured most of the word. "Funny thing though, once you get tired of that, you still have to pick up the pieces. And I never have liked cleaning up messes."

A lump formed in his throat when Angel touched his shoulder. "Next best thing," he muttered. "That's what I've been doing. All this time." He could hear his voice trembling, but he couldn't stop it. "If I can't be *happy*, at least I can be *entertained.* Ha! I just w—!" He couldn't finish the sentence. He slid his hand up to fully cover his mouth and squeezed his eyes shut.

Angel

Angel chuckled in time with his laugh. Was that part of his act? Was the bleep conscious? He had so many jokes at the ready. He was MORE than ready to start trying to make him laugh...

... but instead, Alastor shattered like glass. Just a touch of a hand was all it took? He always took extra care to respect his space after their first conversation. Right now he was just leading him by example, showing rather than just telling him to take chances.

_" ... Al... "_ He thought he should pull back. Maybe it was a bad call. But if he let go, there'd be nothing there to catch his pieces. _And Alastor surely didn't like cleaning up messes._ Angel took a short breath before raising another hand. He gently squared his shoulders towards him. _" Hey... You ok there buddy? "_

Alastor

He shook his head. But he also didn't pull back. Just this once, apparently, this was what he needed.

Angel

Angel almost felt like he'd be more comfortable holding a hornet's nest, but at least providing this sort of comfort was more his speed. " C'mere. " Cautiously, he slid his arms past Alastor to angle his head over his shoulder and avoid a pair of antlers to the throat. In the same motion, he slipped beside him to support any weight that would fall. _Was it too much?_ He kept his secondary arms on the floor for now, a small crunch of product in his ear as his cheek tilted into his hair.

Alastor

Yes, that *was* what he needed. He'd be surprised at himself if he wasn't trying so hard to hold himself together. He leaned his weight into Angel, pulled his knees up to his chest, and covered his face entirely, one hand over his mouth and one hand over his eyes.

Voice cracking, choking on every few words, he said, "I just—wish—I could stop—dragging him into it. I don't want to be the—the one assigned to—make him suffer. That would be enough."

Angel

_You're NOT..._ Angel took a deep breath and pulled him closer, all arms around him now, a couple subtly rubbing his back. This wasn't a point of argument he could win. He couldn't contest or even tell him it'd be ok. So every time he choked, he gave a little squeeze. Every time he cracked he gave a more deliberate stroke. He could cry into his fluff. It'd be ok. He wouldn't look. Instead of protest, he affirmatively hummed along.

Alastor

He couldn't quite bring himself to cry into the fluff, that was a step too far. That would be the point where chronic touch aversion won out over acute touch starvation again.

But he *was* willing to press his forehead into the fluff—oh wow that was really soft. That was. Insanely soft. Holy shit. It lived up to the advertising.

Angel

He seemed to still. That was good. Angel brought a hand to the top of his head to gauge where the antlers were again, but _god_ was his hair a mess. Roots showing, old pomade... at least it didn't feel an awful brand. Keeping his chin up, he relaxed his hold on him and stayed put, listening closely for potentially muffled words.

Alastor

Just one word for the moment, croaked out from beneath a hand and a wall of fluff: "Thanks." He'll work a few more out, just—give him a moment first. It's been a long time since he's let himself be touched by anyone but the person he's currently a wreck over.

Angel

" Yeah... I won't mention it, " he said quietly before brushing a thumb over the base of his ear. Alongside the softness, it was almost en_deer_ing how small he managed to make himself. But he was a broken man. Angel hoped he'd never have to see this side of Alastor again regardless of how used to his frame he was getting. Less a hornet's nest, more a vulnerable demon just like any other.

Alastor

And Alastor sincerely hoped to never be seen like this again; but that wasn't totally in his control, was it?

He took several deep breaths, white noise hisses; and then asked, "Should I—even try again? Being friends? Or would we both be better off to—not?"

He desperately wanted a *yes, try again.* But he couldn't give himself one. He'd been trying, for days; all his excuses and rationalizations rang false. They all sounded selfish and naive.

Angel

Angel bit his lip. _No,_ he wanted to say, _Not if ya gonna keep runnin' yourself into the ground. Not if you're gonna cling to this idea of suffering._

_Ya just gonna be back 'ere again._

But so would he, wouldn't he? Angel already decided. He wasn't going back to the studio. If nowhere else... he was going to be here. Playing redemption.

" ... He. Should try, " he said sternly as he traced waves, " You don't do a fuckdamn THING to get in his good graces until he makes it up to ya. That's the only way this could work. Ya gave 'im everythin'. It's his turn. "

Alastor

Alastor's throat tightened. He didn't like that answer. "But being loved by a friend is *horrible.*" Voice of experience. "He didn't *want* everything from me. I can't blame him for being upset at having so much shoved onto him. How could I?"

Angel

Angel sighed heavily. Temporary fluff suffocation. You'll survive, Alastor. " I ain't sayin' ya gotta do that. Just that he should f'give ya some. Y'ain't no scarlet fuckin' letter. Just a guy. Wit' a complicated past. Wit' some complicated feelin's. If he's gonna be givin' any bit of a damn about you, he's gonna have to wade through some of it without judgin' ya or blamin' ya. It's what friends do. "

Alastor

That's fine, breathing is optional. He can wait.

"Oh, no? If I had a big red letter pinned to me, are you sure you could tell? B for backstabber." He sighed. "Right—of course. If he doesn't decide to forgive me, there's nothing else I can do. It's out of my hands until then."

Angel

" You'll be _fine,_ " he relented with a sink of his chin onto his head and a wide circle over Alastor's back, " You'll get along again. You'll get over y'selves. Even if ya don't, you'll still be fine. "

Alastor

They'll get along again. They'll be fine. His throat squeezed shut. He doubted Angel had any real way of knowing that was true, but he clung to it anyway.

He tried to nod, found he was buried too deep in fluff to complete the movement, and instead managed a garbled, "*Mhm.*"

Angel

" Mhm, " he echoed affirmatively, fingering a wayward curl back into place. At least as close a place he could figure. Angel then squeezed him tight around the shoulders before loosening into casual sweeps. " ... ... Ya smilin'? "

Alastor

He doubted it, but he prodded his cheek with the fingertips of the hand still over his mouth to check. "Mm-mm." That's a negative.

Angel

His lashes fluttered. He wasn't actually expecting him to say no. " Ok... I'll stay here, long as ya need to. If ya comfortable bein' a lil' ball. "

Alastor

"Mhm." Just a few more minutes. In a few more minutes he'd be able to collect himself. They'd get along again and they'd be fine, and if they didn't—if they didn't he'd face that when he had to.

Angel

" Mhm. " He wanted to chuckle. _Grunt after grunt._ Should he feel guilty about how _funny_ he found this? Probably. Only for the next few minutes as he cycled through the usual motions: playing with his hair, ears, rubbing his back, shoulders, the typical things clients found soothing before and after. Alastor had yet to protest, so he felt certain enough to venture he wasn't _bothered._ Nonetheless, they remained light, idle, all but absent minded. Working, but for a friend.

Alastor

He stayed there for several more minutes, until the idle background sensation of disembodied touches on his back and head slowly returned to what they usually were: prickly, uncomfortable reminders of another thinking feeling person pressed up against his body. He felt his shoulders start to tense and he pulled back a bit from the fluff. "Okay, that's—that's all I can handle."

Angel

" Handle? " Angel questioned as his arms dropped from Alastor's person in favor of leaning back on them, so he could remove himself on his own accord. " Interestin'... choice a words, there. " He tipped his sights to the corner of the room for a spell as he thought. " You ok? "

Alastor

He drew back and started straightening his clothes and brushing himself off—he had a smile back on, but God was it a tired-looking one. Dryly, he asked, “In what sense?”

Angel

" Er... relative sense. " Angel then cautiously leaned into the empty space. " Whataya mean, all ya can handle? "

Alastor

“My personal space bubble turned back on.” He stood up and continued tidying himself, brushing off his pants.