#like if multiple people are near front or if it's just one in that memory

[nexus-nebulae]

suddenly remembering how we used to write down conversations between our old host and their "ocs" (see: headmates) during school when we were super stressed out. hmm.

[mysticalserenity-tarot]

🌟 What's coming for you in the next few months? (Pick a pile)

{How to pick a pile? First, take a deep breath with your eyes closed to clear your mind. When you open your eyes, don't hesitate – pick the image that immediately grabs your attention or stirs up a memory. Remember, you can pick more than one pile if you feel called to. If none of the images stand out for you, it means there's no message for you at this time. You can always come back to it later.}

𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣

Pile 1, Pile 2, Pile 3 (from left to right)

Hello, and always a huge thank you to everyone for your incredible support, it means a lot to me!

In this collective pick a pile reading, we'll explore what's in store for you in the upcoming few months. Let's see where your energy takes us.

Disclaimer: This is a collective reading I picked up on multiple energies, so please only take what resonates and leave the rest. When something resonates you usually feel a light energy and in your heart you can feel it's your message, and the pic that attracts you is a clearly sign.

𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣

🕗 PILE 1

5 of Cups, 10 of Swords, The Emperor

(I'm sorry, this is going to be pretty long 😅)

Hello Pile 1, and welcome to your reading. Let's dive in!

First thing I notice: Your cards have all the energy of freedom, and I sense many free-spirited people in this pile, those who do not conform to any strict rules. I also sense some writers amongst you. You prefer to struggle on your own rather than asking for help - oh, my dear Pile 1, I feel you. You need to know that asking for help is not a shameful thing to do. Your loved ones will be more than happy to hold your hand and guide you. You don't listen to anybody, but those that have your best at heart are willing to bring you to higher heights. I sense that you're currently experiencing a period of stagnation, even some conflict with yourself. You may have been hurt by something or someone which put you in a state where you feel like you don't want to do anything, but please do not neglect yourself. I promise better days will come for you. While some of you may be experiencing a dark period, remember that the light is always at the end of the tunnel. Therefore, my advice to you is to never give up and let challenges faze you, as challenges are all lessons, and I promise you'll come back stronger.

What's coming for you are better days indeed - brighter days! I see you getting in a position of authority, and leadership, which will make you stronger and proud of yourself. For others, but a just a few, you may encounter a masculine figure with leadership qualities, it may be your boss or even a potential lover, perhaps your boss will turn into your future lover – I sense a connection here. In the spread in front of me, you're literally looking at this person. They could be a fire or earth sign or have those prominent in their chart. [ friendly reminder, tarot is all about energy and not gender ] Either way, there's going to be stability in your life. This is highlighted not only by the numbers present on the cards, but also by the prominent colors of brown in your spread, which symbolize stability, earthy vibes, and peace. You may also undertake shadow work, which will help you connect with your inner child and foster happiness and peace within yourself, making you stronger and resilient when facing hardships. I also sense orange, which indicates success and encouragement. You're being encouraged to move forward, and steer clear of negative energies which can only bring misfortune.

In conclusion, whether it's a pushing or a willing move, I foresee calm waters in your near future, allowing you to regain lost peace and energy. Some of you may physically travel to another country for holidays or even move permanently. I sense that you may be feeling a bit anxious about this, which is natural when stepping out of your comfort zone. However, these changes will be advantageous to your well-being and overall happiness.

Freedom, transformation, and struggle are crucial themes for you in the coming months.

Thank you for allowing me to read your energy, Pile 1.

Note: -If you enjoyed this and my other readings, and you'd like to support me further, you can do so on my ko-fi, I'd greatly appreciate it. It's not mandatory.

-For further guidance or a personalized reading, feel free to book a reading through my Tumblr DM or email [dvinecrystl@gmail.com]. I'm here to help you navigate life's challenges and find clarity. We can decide the price together. [I will be providing more details on my paid readings in the future. Keep an eye out for it]

🕗 PILE 2

2 of Pentacles, the High Priestess, Temperance

Hello Pile 2, and welcome to your reading. Let's dive in!

I sense that you're currently juggling multiple things, stuck between two distinct paths. It could be about love or career. Some of you are indecisive about job opportunities, while others are uncertain about whether to stay or leave a relationship. Trust your intuition if it feels toxic, and listen to your heart. I feel like many of you are evaluating whether to confess something to loved ones.

In the coming months, I foresee you regaining balance. You'll place more trust in your intuition and listen to yourself more than ever. You'll find balance in various aspects of your life, possibly juggling between career and love. Many of you have detached from the divine/universe, perhaps even abandoned it. However, in the coming months, you'll reconnect with the divine and strengthen your relationship with it. Overall, you'll prioritize your own needs, and the universe (or your beliefs) will bring you to a point of desperation so that you can learn from this lesson and focus on yourself. I'm casually singing on my mind the song "a flash in the night" by Secret Service may signifies unexpected insights or moments of revelation that help you navigate the challenges ahead - which is confirmed by the Ace of Swords coming twice in your reading, and for some also a sign that it's your pile - maybe you listened to it lately or you were born in the 80s, same period when this song was released. Take it how it resonates. It also indicates a need to work on your root chakra for those who aren't, which will be beneficial for grounding and connecting with the earth - the High Priestess may indicate a blessing in disguise involving the Akashic Records; self-discovery - you're going to learn more about yourself, which will also bring you to make better decisions and beneficial only for you.

2/22/222 may be significant (and ironically this is pile 2! 😁) also, it indicated clever decisions which you'll make or have to in order to get close to your goals and reach success. I believe in you, guys!

Balance, inner strenght, reconnection with the divine are important themes for you in the upcoming months.

Thank you for allowing to read your energy, Pile 2.

Note: -If you enjoyed this and my other readings, and you'd like to support me further, you can do so on my ko-fi, I'd greatly appreciate it. It's not mandatory.

-For further guidance or a personalized reading, feel free to book a reading through my Tumblr DM or email [dvinecrystl@gmail.com]. I'm here to help you navigate life's challenges and find clarity. We can decide the price together. [I will be providing more details on my paid readings in the future. Keep an eye out for it]

🕗 PILE 3

8 of Cups, 2 of Wands, Knight of Wands

You're leaving something hurtful behind, aren't you? I feel like you're fed up with suffering and moving towards the bright light - well done, beautiful! But there's still uncertainty about whether to accept that job opportunity or that potential romance. You're seeing others realizing your dreams and you're here like "when it's going to be my turn?" Both of these choices have a waiting period, as the saying goes, 'good things come to those who wait.' This is exactly what your reading represents. If you're evaluating a decision, go for it because it will free you from the burden. You may resonate with pile 2, check it if you felt attracted to it.

In the upcoming months, you'll experience the sweet breeze through your hair, the feeling of lightness in your feet, and the warmth of the sun on your skin. Many of you are stuck in your comfort zones, and I know it isn't easy to leave them. However, if you don't try, you'll never know what opportunities await. Your passion will be reignited, and you'll find joy either with your loved ones or alone. Some of you will finally take this "risk" and you're going to celebrate this big achievement and finally be proud and love yourself more, which is also the key of manifestations coming into fruition. Others of you are going to meet a youthful energy, like a knight taking you on adventures. This person, whether a lover, friend, or family member, will bring you new experiences and might even pull you out of your comfort zone. Take it as a sign from the universe that you need to step out of your comfort zone. My dear, you're too focused on work/studies and likely have exams, you need some relaxation and experiences/adventures that will light your mind. Keep pushing yourself, but remember to take breaks to not get stuck in this negative energy causing you to burn out sooner or later.

Leaving what no longer serves you, stepping out of your comfort zone, and finding exciting new opportunities, are all important themes for you in the coming months.

Thank you for allowing me to read your energy, Pile 3.

Note: -If you enjoyed this and my other readings, and you'd like to support me further, you can do so on my ko-fi, I'd greatly appreciate it. It's not mandatory.

-For further guidance or a personalized reading, feel free to book a reading through my Tumblr DM or email [dvinecrystl@gmail.com]. I'm here to help you navigate life's challenges and find clarity. We can decide the price together. [I will be providing more details on my paid readings in the future. Keep an eye out for it]

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

ANY LIKE/REBLOG/COMMENT IS APPRECIATED, ALSO IF YOU LET ME KNOW IF IT RESONATED.

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST MY WORK.

ALWAYS THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR EACH ONE OF YOU'S SUPPORT, I'M GRATEFUL 🤗🤍

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

Please note that I used AI language bot to help improve grammar and spelling in my readings, as English is not my first language. However, the interpretations and insights provided in my readings are all my work, based on my intuition and the cards' symbolism.

Disclaimer: Tarot readings are for entertainment purposes only and are not meant to predict or dictate your future. The cards provide insights and guidance, but the ultimate power of choice lies with you.

[jeridandridge]

For Lovers At Night pt 1

Melissa meets someone that makes her reevaluate her marriage and life choices. Pre-doc crew at Abbott. Part 1

Melissa Schemmenti is miserable. Sitting at her kitchen table mindlessly flipping through a book her eyes catch the gold band on her finger. Joe had promised her when they first got married he would get her a diamond as soon as they got money. That was twenty years ago. She thinks back to before she got married, how carefree and happy she was. She spent her free time in clubs, bars, and artists dens, meeting whoever she wanted and most importantly being a mysterious woman that did whatever she wanted.

Sitting at the table she closes the book and stands up knowing Joe won’t be home for dinner anyway. Heading through the house she goes to their rarely shared bedroom and opens the closet door. Pushed to the side of the closet sits an old leather jacket she hasn’t worn since… god she can’t remember. Most likely since she and Joe got back together the last time.

Running her hand along the tough leather a small smile spreads across her lips as memories are brought back to her. The last time she wore it she opted on the back of a gorgeous woman’s motorcycle and flipped Joe off as they rode off into the night together.

That feels like a life time ago now.

Pulling the jacket out she slips it on and fluffs her hair looking in the mirror. She notes the crows feet by her eyes, the way her freckles are more prominent now in her forties. Looking at her hand she flexes her fingers for a moment. Taking a breath she slowly slides her wedding ring off setting it on the dresser.

When Melissa gets in her car she’s not sure where she’s going, but she knows she’s going into the city. Somewhere alive and lit up. Sticking her hand out the window as she drives she moves her fingers along the chilly night air, her ring finger bare for the first time in many years feels weightless against the wind. She can’t help but smile to herself, something she realizes is happening at random.

Driving through the busy streets she goes to an old haunt of hers not even knowing if it’s still open or not. In an old building on one of the bustling streets of Philly sits an old bookshop, The looking Glass, one that she went to many times in her college days and even after. Pulling up she beams seeing the store still there and the open sign on. She could go for a fireball hot toddy and a new book tonight.

Going up to the door a whiff of fresh books and coffee hit her, throwing her right back to her college days. Walking inside everything’s the same. The hot drink section with its bar behind it, the small counter on the opposite side holding the register and other little items for purchase, multiple seating areas, and of course the shelves and shelves of books so cramped together that if it were any other place it would be a problem. Melissa feels at home.

Walking past people she glides through the rows of books looking around and getting lost in her little chunk of paradise she hasn’t had in so long. Across the establishment behind the bar, you nudge your friend nodding towards the row of books the gorgeous redhead is standing near.

“Just your type. Good luck with that one.” He pats your shoulder as he goes to the back room. Looking across the room with a smirk on your lips you watch the redheaded stranger reach up for a book, her hair cascading down her back in waves. She was beautiful.

Across the room Melissa turns around book in hand, flipping through the pages as she walks up to the bar not bothering to look up until she’s standing right in front of you. “Hi, what can I get for ya?”

Melissa looks up with a friendly smile playing with the spine of the book she found. “Can I get a fireball hot toddy, hon?”

“Name for the order?” You ask moving around the work area, black warm cup in hand.

“Melissa.”

“Melissa, I’ve never seen you in here before.” You smile writing her name on the cup in gold flowy letters.

Setting the book down on the counter so she can open her purse, Melissa shrugs. “I haven’t been here in a long time.”

“I figured. I’d remember someone like you.” You smile making the drink and sliding it on the counter.

Melissa catches the comment and the way you’re looking at her, and feels a warmth spread through her. “I doubt it, hon.” She chuckles handing the money over for her drink.

“If you need another or just wanna have a riveting conversation, I’ll be here.” You gesture to the counter with a laugh.

Melissa looks at your name tag with a smile.

“Thanks, hon. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Moving across the room with her drink and book in hand Melissa sits on a sofa near a dim lamp, just far enough to glance up every so often to the woman behind the bar. Sipping her drink the warmth from the alcohol spreads through her chest giving her a comforting feeling she hasn’t felt in a long while. The woman behind the counter is stunning, and something about her eyes made Melissa feel something deep within her that she can’t place just yet.

Eventually, she gets lost in her book and before she knows it she’s more than halfway through it and the woman from the bar is gently tapping her arm.

“Melissa, we’re closing up.” You hum with a soft smile.

The bar is quieter now, people are heading out and the main lights are on. Melissa looks around the bar and begins to gather her things. “Sorry, I got lost there.” She chuckles.

“Don’t apologize, I would too if I were reading Jane Rules greatest love story,” you smile.

“You’ve read it?” She asks curiously.

“I have, it was a big deal for me in high school.”

“So when, last year?” Melissa teases making you laugh in return.

“No, more like fifteen or so years ago.” You hum. “Something about an older woman breaking free of a metaphorical cage and finding herself with the help of a wild younger woman always intrigued me.” You admit with a smile. “Let me buy it for you.” You offer.

“I can’t let you do that, hon.” Melissa shakes her head.

“Sure you can. I own the place, I can do what I want.”

Melissa looks at you in awe. You looked so young yet here you were with a business and a personality wise beyond your years. Before she can say anything else you’re already wiping down the coffee table with a rag.

“Wow. It really has been a long time since I’ve been here.” Melissa sighs. “Thank you, for the book and the environment.”

“You don’t need to thank me, just come in more often.” You smile.

And that’s what she does.

The next night Melissa makes sure her hair and makeup are to the nines, her jeans are tight, her nails are painted, and she may or may not spray on an extra shot of perfume. Standing in front of the mirror she fluffs her hair once more and takes a breath.

“Where are you going all dressed up?” Joes voice sounds from the bathroom, a rare thing now.

“Barb talked me into a book club.” She offers with ease. He still hadn’t noticed her wedding ring was off and he didn’t ask any questions- just how she liked it.

“That sounds nice. Have a good time.” He says closing the door.

It doesn’t take long for Melissa to grab her keys and make her way to The Looking Glass. Walking through the door there are more people than the night before given the fact it’s a Saturday night. The redhead can’t help but frown, a pang of sadness hitting her as she makes her way in and doesn’t see the woman from the night before.

Slipping through the crowd she gets to the bar looking up at the menu despite being ready to order her wine.

“Melissa!”

Across the floor near the back doorway the mysterious woman from last night appears.

“Hi, hon.” She lets out with a giddy grin, her heart leaping in her chest as you beckon her over with the wave of your hand. “I didn’t think you were here.”

“I’m always here.” You chuckle. “I didn’t think I’d see you again.” You admit with a smile as you lean against the side of the bar.

“Why’s that?”

“I dunno,” you shrug. “I overthink too much I guess.”

“Yeah, I know the feelin.”

“Come with me, I want your opinion on something.” You hold your hand out to the redhead.

Gently taking the younger woman’s hand Melissa feels her cheeks heat up at the simple touch. Walking to the back hand in hand she can’t help but feel butterflies in her chest.

“So it’s dark and cold now,” you start flicking a single hanging lightbulb on, “but I’m planning on expanding the sitting area to here. Less storage, but more room for pretty girls to browse through the books.” You smirk.

Melissa tips her chin up with a matching smirk meeting your eyes. “Do you flirt with all your customers this way?”

“No, I can’t say I do. Just the one I find incredibly beautiful.”

Smile not faltering, Melissa ducks her head realizing your hands are still entwined together.

“Careful, I might think you’re interested in me.” She chuckles lightly.

“And if I am?” You smile.

“I think,” Melissa whispers, her ringless hand still in the woman’s, “I’d like that.”

Everything Melissa knows goes out the window when she sees the look in your eyes. She thinks of all the shit Joe has put her through the last twenty years and how she can be happy if she allows that for herself. It’s what she desperately wants.

“I can’t stay long tonight, but I’d really like to talk to ya while I’m here.” She offers with a gentle squeeze to your hand. “If you can that is.”

“I can,” you smile. “Come with me.”

As Melissa is lead through the back room once again she gently squeezes the woman’s hand as they get to the office in the back of the building. It’s simple, a desk, a large couch, and of course a couple bookshelves.

“Make yourself at home,” you offer letting your hand slip away from the redheads, fingers brushing as you go to the small fridge in the corner. “Do you like wine?”

“It’s usually my go to. I bet you have the really good stuff.”

“I do, but this is regular stuff.” You chuckle taking out the chilled bottle. “I’ll have to break the good stuff out another night.”

“Already thinking about seeing me again?” Melissa grins watching her hands move. The lust she felt for the woman was something she’d not felt in her marriage in over ten years and she forgot how much she missed the warm feeling.

“Not to scare you off, but I haven’t stopped thinking about you since last night.” You admit handing her a glass of wine.

“Trust me, hon it takes a lot to scare me off.” Melissa was terrified of what she was doing, but she didn’t need to share that.

“Interesting.” You grin into your own glass. “You seem really mysterious, Melissa.”

“Private mostly,” the redhead shrugs. She’d always been private. Her family and connections were usually all she needed in her life, it even took a full year at Abbott Elementary before she let her best friend, Barb, into her life and that was ten years ago.

“So if I gave you my phone number could I expect a call from a restricted number?” You joke.

“No,” Melissa smiles fishing the device out of her purse, unlocking it before she hands it over. “It’ll be just a number.”

Taking the phone in your palm you type your number in followed by your name handing it back after you hit save.

“I haven’t done this in a long time.” Melissa chuckles nervously, so uncharacteristic of the hard exterior she presents.

Sipping your wine you lick your lips setting the glass down. “Someone hurt you pretty good didn’t they?”

“Yeah, you could say that.” Melissa offers thinking of Joes cheating and lack of presence. “I’m kinda gettin over it though.”

“Well, whoever they are, I feel sorry for them.” You smile as the redhead finishes her wine.

Melissa can’t help but duck her head a bit at that. “Thanks, hon.”

“Tell me about them,” you prompt leaning back in your seat.

Melissa sobers up immediately at the question. How could she tell a practical stranger, one she was incredibly attracted to, but still a stranger none the less, that she hated her husbands guts and wanted out before she got any older?

“If I answer you have to tell me something important about you.” She shoots back.

“Deal,” you nod with a smile.

“I-“ Melissa breathes out unsure of where to start, “My ex husband made me miserable. He cheated, rarely came home, expected all the cliche housewife cliche things.” She shrugs through the lie. Yes it was a lie, but not entirely.

“What an idiot.” You shake your head unable to break eye contact with the woman. There was something behind her eyes that you couldn’t yet place, but would soon find out.

“How did you buy this place?” Melissa asks breaking the tension.

“It was left to me. I started working here when I turned eighteen and I’ve been here ever since.” You smile. “The original owner helped me out a lot in college and when she retired, she sold ir to me cheap.”

“That’s amazing,” Melissa smiles. “I always loved it here and I’m happy to see it’s the same.”

“I do my best to keep it up and get more people in here. As much as I love talking about my job, what do you do?”

“I teach second grade.” She offers. During your back and forth, Melissa keeps that same look in her eyes and it only changes when she says she has to leave. It changes from whatever it was before to sadness.

“Let me walk you to your car?” You ask hopefully.

“Yeah, hon. I’d like that.”

Getting up you rest your hand on her lower back as you two walk out to the main part of the building and out the front door.

“That’s it there?” You ask with a laugh spotting a black two door truck.

“That’s me.”

“You get more and more interesting.” You grin as Melissa unlocks the truck. “I hope I hear from you soon.”

“You will, hon.” Melissa smiles while she climbs in.

“Drive safe.” You offer with a nod, settling your hands in your back pockets as you watch the truck drive off into the busy night. Turning around you go back into the bar with a smile knowing you met someone special.

Part 2

[jeonjaemark]

christmas sweater || boo seungkwan

content warning: mentions of death // masterlist

“guys! c’mon! let’s start secret santa!” soonyoung shouts, pulling me to the couch.

i stumble between my feet after trying to bite into my cookie. it crumbles as soonyoung sits me down near him on the floor. i huff a breath of disappointment at my broken cookie and pushed it on the coffee table. everyone gathers around the living room bringing their food or drinks. soft christmas music was playing in the background as quiet conversations break out.

“you just want secret santa to happen already so you get your gift and prove to everyone you gave away the best one.” i teased, nudging him with my elbow.

“my reasons are not selfish for wanting to start secret santa already.”

“no, they’re definitely selfish.” seungkwan chimes in backing me up as he sits next to me.

“if you two are just gonna team up against me the entire time then maybe we just skip the two of you this year.” soonyoung hissed waving us off.

“soonyoung, just start reading the names out for everyone.” seungcheol hissed from the other side of the couch.

he grabs the gifts from under the tree distributing them one by one to each person. i stare up the tree admiring the blue and pink decor covering the white tree. a few pictures of the members were hung around as ornaments making me giggle. of course the tree had the members all over it.

soonyoung reaches for a rectangular blue snowflake box wrapped with a silver sparkly ribbon. he calls out my name and i happily take the gift from him. i try to shake the gift around gently hoping to give away any hints, but i couldn’t really hear anything. the box was light and full which meant there wasn’t going to be a block of gold inside.

once soonyoung passed out the gifts to everyone, each person took a turn opening their gifts. a collective oooh’s and ahhhh’s broke out every ten minutes making it seem like i was watching the minion’s movie.

seungkwan holds up his new hair dryer that he got along with a bag of vitamin powder. all the members took turns each teasing him about how he is going to be a menace having the dryer everyone wanted. he tried to make a few guess on who gave him the gift but one glance around the room gave it away for me. in the corner i noticed jihoon quietly hiding behind jun. his ears were red when seungkwan guessed joshua as his secret santa and went on a whole spiel about why he believed it was joshua.

“why wouldn’t it be him? he likes me.”

“everyone likes you but that doesn’t mean they’ll get you a nice gift.” soonyoung snickers.

“this has joshua written all over it.” seungkwan stood firm on his choice. “i have talked about the hair dryer multiple times in front of him.”

“it’s not me, i swear.” joshua holds his hands up in surrender. “but you’ve talked about the hair dryer in front of everyone a million times.”

“enough guessing. we have five other people to go through with gifts. seungkwan stop taking away the spotlight.” mingyu says. “y/n, it’s your turn.”

i untied the ribbon and slide open the box finding a maroon cardigan with snowflake and reindeer pattern decorating the mid section. i hold up the sweater in front of me and turn it finding the year 1998 stitched in the back.

my heart stops while staring at the cardigan in disbelief. many memories flooded my brain at the person wearing this cardigan.

“y/n, help me with setting the table before grandma arrives.” mom says, placing the food in the center of the table.

the doorbell goes off making olaf bark at the sound to alert us. dad walks past us to the door telling olaf to go to her bed and to quiet down. loud laughter fills the house making my heart jump with a joy. one by one my cousins, aunts and uncles pile into the house. each time the doorbell goes off the clutter of voices gets louder and louder as everyone slowly arrives. i always love the holiday season because it meant being together my family.

i set the plates down when a small wrinkled woman with short curly hair dressed in a maroon with snowflakes and reindeer walks in. the scent of cinnamon fills the dining area making my inside go warm. i abandon what i was doing and rush over to her.

“grandma.” i gushed as she pulls me into a tight embrace. “i missed you.”

“y/n, are you okay?” seokmin asked, breaking me out of my thoughts. “you look like you’re about to cry.”

the pads of my finger reach my eyes and a tear escapes. i quickly wipe away the tears clearing my throat while i tried to compose myself again.

“y-yeah. i just really love the sweater.”

everyone moved on to the next person to open their gifts as they reacted over a pair of jeans and sweater. the chatter of the members faded as my thoughts grew too loud to focus on the rest of the gift opening.

———

for the past twenty minutes joshua, seokmin and soonyoung were hogging the mic for karaoke while the others were drinking while playing a board game or were playing with their new gifts they got. i stayed out in the balcony wanting to get away from the chaos. no matter how long i stared and held the sweater in my hands, i was still in disbelief. i never thought there would be a day that i would have this sweater in my hands again after losing it.

“hey, do you mind having some company?” a soft voice asked.

i look up finding seungkwan holding two mugs filled with steaming hot chocolate. i nod and he carefully walks out handing me a mug. he takes a seat next to me on the bench. i adjust the heater moving it closer to his side so we both can stay warm.

luckily the air was only chilly instead of freezing cold like usual and the night was a little brighter compared to it being pitch black. it was hard to see the stars from here but it was nice and quiet out compared to the chaos inside. seungkwan doesn’t say anything after adjusting himself on the bench and just stares up at the sky.

“so did you ever figure out who got you the hair dryer?”

“yeah, everyone confessed who got who while you were out here. by the way j——“

“can i ask you something?” i bit my inner lip looking at him.

many thoughts race through my mind whether to ask or not. it would bother me if i didn’t ask but at the same time i didn’t want to ask. there’s too much emotions to unpack. seungkwan clears his throat breaking me out of my thoughts. he straightens his posture seeing a glimpse of something in my eyes. he must have realized how heavy the conversation was going to be. he sets down his mug in the space between us.

“how did you find this?” i held up the sweater to him.

“how are you so sure the gift is from me?”

“seungkwan, i wasn’t born yesterday. no one knows about this sweater except you.”

“i could’ve hint it to someone else to get it for you.”

“seungkwan! you’re my best friend. as much i believe that any of guys would get me a thoughtful gift, it wouldn’t be this special.”

seungkwan and i both stare at each other. as much as he denies it, i know he was the one who got me this sweater. there is no one else in the room that would’ve thought about getting me this. none of them were to know the significance of the sweater. i stood firm on my guess waiting for him to weigh down and confess.

“okay, fine. you guessed correctly. it’s me.” he smiles. “i know how much that sweater means to you. that is the only thing you have that makes you still feel connected to her.”

the holiday season was the one time a year where i felt like my family was normal and got along. the laughter and loud voices of my cousins all talking together as we open our gifts and play games. my aunts doing their zumba to work off the meal they just ate. my uncles all sat at the table together playing poker while drinking and shouting over the call of the game. grandma drifting between hanging out with all the moms or checking up on us kids to make sure we’ve eaten enough food for the next three years.

she recently passed some time ago. i could still remember coming home from class with seungkwan. my mom’s eyes were red and puffy. her face pale like she had seen a monster. seungkwan wouldn’t leave my side the entire week.

the holidays feel a little empty without her. every year since she passed i would wear the sweater believing that she was still here with us around this time. a year ago mom had accidentally sold it during a garage sale back around summer. my heart broke when she confessed to me about it even after trying to track the buyer. at the end of the day she couldn’t find it and i was heartbroken. i kept reassuring mom that it’s okay and it’s not her fault. it was an honest mistake, but it felt like i was losing her all over again.

“it took me a while to find it. i may have been charged a little bit more than the original price but it’s worth it.” he smirks, squeezing my hand.

“thank you. seriously thank you.” i sniffle wrapping my arms around him. “you don’t know how much this means to me.”

“of course. i am happy that i can bring back a little bit of your christmas magic.”

he helps me put on the sweater. he adjusts a few strands in my hair. a rush of warmth floods my veins as i run my fingers off the soft design stitch into the sweater. i lean my nose closer to my shoulder. cinnamon and apples flood my nose and i get taken back to many memories of grandma in this sweater during this season. the way her eyes crinkle in the corner as she claps her hands singing along to the christmas songs. i spin around showing off the sweater to him and he giggles as i tried my best to model.

“beautiful. i am sure you’re grandma would be happy to see you in the sweater again.”

i look back to seungkwan squeezing him tightly. he wraps his arms around me patting my back. i had the most amazing best friend in the world. i couldn’t have picture a more perfect gift.

“uhmmm guys? can you get back in here? seokmin and soonyoung are drunk. they took over the karaoke and now i am scared to take the mic away.” jun says.

“i think we should go save our friends from the drunk karaoke singers.” i laughed tugging seungkwan behind me. “or maybe we can join them.”

[pandorasprongs]

PROLOGUE | hold on to the memories.

'it's nice to have a friend' fic masterlist + playlist

PAIRING: jamie tartt x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 5.0k

SUMMARY: stories of jamie and reader's friendship over the years, from age 7 to 17.

WARNINGS: language, slight body image/appearance issues, slight panic attack, vague descriptions of sex

A/N: yay! finally starting this fic with sort of an overview/background on their relationship, but there will be more flashbacks throughout the chapters. no gif for this one cause tbh i could not find one that fits the vibes here, but regardless hope you all enjoy the prologue!

Age 7

"You mind handing that back over?" You hear a voice coming from the other side of the fence as you pick up a loose football.

You turn to find a boy around your age in a football kit. His hair was completely waxed to one side, probably to keep it from covering his eyes while playing. You recognize his uniform as your school's football team's, though you're not sure if you've seen him before. Then again, you didn't know anyone in town yet. You had just moved to Manchester a few months ago, just as the school year started and while you had a few people to talk to in class, you didn't have any solid friends really.

You toss the ball back to the boy, who catches it swiftly. You think that's the end of it, so you start heading back to your house when he calls out to you again.

"Hey! What's your name?" You answer him, with him nodding in acknowledgment. "I think I've seen you around the school. I'm Jamie."

He reaches over the fence and extends his arm for you to shake it, despite the fact that you were already at your front door. You walk back and shake it, as he asks, "Do you wanna play football? I got a game tomorrow, but Mum's too busy to play goalie."

You had hoped your look of glasses, multiple layers of clothes, and generally un-sporty demeanor was enough to dissuade offers to play, but this Jamie didn't really seem to care.

"Maybe another time," You reply, but this boy is persistent.

"Okay, do you wanna watch me score goals?" He offers before glancing at the book tucked under your arm and pointing at it. "You can read while I play."

Once you realize that he wasn't going to quit, you finally agree. You head back inside to tell your mom that you'd be playing with your neighbor for the afternoon and since you already finished your homework, she was more than willing to let you go. She always said you needed some fresh air, which was why you were outside in the first place.

You walk back to your yard to find Jamie still standing where you left him, but this time he was practicing his dribbling. He was pretty good from what you knew about football, and walk over to his side of the fence. He stops when he sees you and starts leading you to his backyard. There was a goal net in the far back and some cones set up, probably to practice maneuvering the ball better. 

Jamie turns to see if you're still following him and drags you to a small table with two chairs near the door to the house. "You can stay here and count my goals," he instructs you and you nod your head in understanding.

While Jamie kicked around the football, you continued reading your book, occasionally looking up at what the boy was doing. It was easy to keep track of the score since Jamie would be cheering like he just won the Premier League when he scored. 

After getting bored of reading, you decide to ask Jamie to teach you how to play. You see his eyes light up and immediately drags you up from your seat. The first thing he teaches you is how to dribble the ball. He held your hands the whole time to stop you from falling over, but that only seems to make it harder for you to move around.

Once you finally got the hang of that, — meaning you no longer tripped over your own feet — the next few hours were then spent teaching you the other basics of football like passing and shooting. You only started to get decent at shooting when you realized that the sun was already setting.

"I think I have to go home now," You tell Jamie, whose expression suddenly fell at your statement. You go and grab your book from the table and wave at the boy. "It was nice playing with you!"

If he said anything in reply, you didn't hear it because you sprinted back around the fence and into your house. You take off your shoes, relieving the ache of kicking around the ball, and go to tell your parents everything you did that day.

—

The next time you see Jamie was Friday morning. He spotted you leaving your house for school and invited you to his team's football game that afternoon. "You just have to stay in school a little later. My mum said your mum might get worried, so she told me to tell you now so you can ask her."

You run back inside to do just that and after informing her that the other parents would be chaperoning the game, she agreed. You also take the chance to get your scarf and gloves because you hadn't realized how cold it was outside. She went out with you to tell Jamie the good news.

"Thank you, Ma'am," he replied, causing your mom to let out a chuckle at how polite the boy became. She finally sends you off to school and Jamie decides to walk with you too.

—

You couldn't help but be amazed at how well Jamie was playing. You knew that he was at least decent based on how well he taught you that day, but he was practically scoring all the goals for his team. None of the opposing players could even catch up to him, at times. You wonder how he kept his energy up despite the fact that it was freezing outside and he was only in shorts.

After the game, his team got hot chocolate to celebrate their win. You go to congratulate him, but find it hard due to the number of people surrounding them. Jamie was looking for you too, so the moment he spots you trying to make your way through the crowd, he heads to you instead and pulls you aside.

"Did you like the game?" was the first thing he says to you.

You immediately nod, "Yeah, it was really fun to watch! Congrats on winning."

Jamie shrugs, "Thanks, but it's really nothing, we've been on a streak for a while." You don't know if he's just being humble or bragging about his team, but either way, you're happy they're doing well.

Afterward, Jamie decides to bring you to meet his mom. She's quick to embrace you and mentions that Jamie's been talking about you non-stop, much to the boy's embarrassment. She hands you a hot chocolate of your own and you're grateful to be able to warm your hands. You lost one of the pair around lunchtime, so you've been keeping your hands in your jacket pocket the whole day.

While Jamie goes to change, you stay with Georgie as you savor your drink. She notices the lack of cover on your right hand and gives you an extra pair that she kept in her bag. It's clearly too big for you and its orange color clashes with the blue and white on your left hand but you're grateful regardless.

Soon after, Jamie's rushing out of the locker room looking cozy in a sweatshirt under his winter jacket. He's wearing gloves as well and when he notices your mismatched gloves, he takes one of his off and switches them with the orange one. 

They're a much better fit and you thank Jamie for it. The boy adds, "My hands are bigger, so they won't slip off as easily." 

"Come on, let's go home!" He adds, grabbing one of your hands with his left and his mom's with his right as you walk off the pitch.

After coming home, your mom notices your new glove and decides to bring some cookies for the neighbors as a thank you. That started a months-long gift exchange between the two moms for reasons ranging from watching over their kids on weekdays to lending their kids a pencil for a standardized test. 

You didn't really mind it though, because it usually meant you'd get to hang out with Jamie longer. You spent countless weekends riding your bikes around town, playing football, and even camping in your backyards. The boy who threw that ball over your fence was quickly becoming your best friend.

—

Age 15

“Aww, my little girl is so grown up, now!” Your mom exclaims as she opens the door to see you in a pink knee-length sundress. You don’t know why she’s so shocked you’re wearing it considering that she was the one who bought it for you. “Hmm, but do you think you need a necklace?”

“Mom!” You whine and she immediately backs off. It’s not like you minded the suggestion, but you had your own issues to deal with and didn’t need your parents to get involved.

When you said yes to Tim asking you on a date, you knew you’d be both excited and nervous. But you didn’t realize how insecure it would make you. Your parents say all the time that it’s normal for kids your age — being insecure about your looks and body, — but that advice never seemed to help. As your mom leaves the room, you turn back to the mirror and sigh. Something was just off. The dress was pretty, the shoes matched, and your mom did great with your hair, but even then, you still aren’t satisfied.

You weren’t as experienced with make-up and fashion as the other girls in your school and you had long since accepted that. You just didn’t realize it would backfire on you in times like these. You sigh sharply again. If Tim really liked you, it wouldn’t matter that much right? You add the necklace your mom was suggesting before heading downstairs.

After a string of ‘oohs’ and ‘awws’ from your parents, you start heading to the restaurant. Most popular restaurants among your schoolmates were walkable and you didn’t want an even more awkward introduction with your parents there, going there by yourself was the best plan. You had gotten there early, so you settled on the bench outside the restaurant to wait for your date.

Maybe around the first half hour, you should’ve suspected something was off. But you stayed for another hour in case Tim actually showed up. God, you shouldn’t have believed he was sincere. Why would someone ask you out? You always kept to yourself in class, spent most of your time studying, and never even tried to go to parties or anything.

You check your phone again because some hopeful part of you thought he’d text you with a valid excuse, but all you see are some messages from classmates asking for notes and a missed call from your mum. You were not ready to face your parents right now, not after the hopeful looks on their faces that their daughter might be sociable for a night.

Instead, you call the only other person you can. Jamie makes it to the place in record time and the first thing you do is hug him. The moment you make contact with his body is the moment you let the tears flow from your face. It didn’t really matter at that point if people were staring: you just needed someone. You needed Jamie.

“I’m gonna murder that prick,” Jamie threatens as he reciprocates the hug.

“Please don’t,” you whisper into his chest. “I can’t have you going to jail right now.” Despite trying your best to say it jokingly, your voice is too hoarse to properly convey it.

After what felt like hours in that position, you finally let go. You soon realize that your streaming tears had stained Jamie’s shirt. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

The boy looks down and just shrugs. “It was getting too small for me, anyway.” That’s enough to put a smile on your face.

The two of you get into the car – Georgie’s car, since technically, Jamie only had a provisional license – and start driving back to your house. Maybe it was your wrecked emotional state, but you decided to outright ask, “Jamie, do you find me attractive?”

You gasp as Jamie almost crashes the car. You quickly clarify as he steadies the vehicle, “Fuck, I didn’t mean it like that! It’s just, I don’t really know how I look to guys.”

“Right, sorry.” He says but doesn’t look away from the road. “I mean, you are pretty. As long as you don’t let it get to your head.”

You roll your eyes. “Oh, fuck off Jamie, I’m not you.” You could list the number of times Jamie’s flashed that cocky smirk to girls at school during breaks. Those were some of the very few times you were embarrassed to be seen with him and you laugh at the reminder. But your smile quickly disappears when you look down at your outfit. “Do you think other guys think I’m pretty?”

Your voice is as soft as it’s ever been, not wanting to show how insecure you’re feeling at the moment. But Jamie can tell like he always does. You turn the corner to your house and he stops the car in the road and fully turns to you.

“Fuck those other guys. Fine, if you need someone to say it, I will. You are fucking gorgeous, especially tonight.” You cringe at his words, not used to having anyone say that about you, but he gets you to look at him again. “I’m serious. And Tim’s a fucking idiot for ditching you.”

Despite his harsh tone, the soft look in his eyes as he tries to comfort you almost makes you tear up again. As if it’s become a routine, you reach over and envelop him in a hug once more. To make up for the failed date, the two of you spend the rest of the night eating a tub of Neopolitan ice cream and soon enough, you forget that Tim even existed.

—

Age 17

Your teachers always said you were a good writer. But no one ever told you how fucking difficult it was to start your personal statement. You'd never realized how hard it is to prove you should go to university until you forced yourself to sit down and actually try and write something. You started with the outline route, trying to note all your academic achievements, extracurriculars, and things like that before you ended up boring yourself.

You've written 9 possible starting lines at this point, and in the end, you decide to just shut your laptop in despair. Try again tomorrow, you said to yourself. The same thing you said yesterday and the day before that. 

You go to lie down on your bed when you hear something hit your window. It's a light clinking sound, and you ignore it till you hear another one. You finally decide to check outside your window and hear shouting from above.

"God?" you ask hesitantly.

"Nope, just me," you look up to find Jamie Tartt sitting on his rooftop, almost giving you a heart attack.

"Get down from there!" You tell him immediately and instantly cringe at how similar your tone is to your mom’s. Jamie rolls his eyes at the order but obliges anyway. He starts going down the roof into his bedroom — carrying an empty bottle of beer in his left hand — and makes it through his window.  Once he's safe with his feet on the floor, he turns around to face you in your adjacent bedroom.

"Why'd you even go up there?" you question and Jamie, like always, simply shrugs.

"Felt like it," you shake your head at his reasoning. You knew your best friend could be reckless, but you didn't think he'd do something as stupid as that, especially before scouting season.

"So falling off and breaking your legs wasn’t something you thought could possibly happen?"

"Well, that’s why I have you to warn me," He exclaims, before going back to the conversation. "I'm coming over."

Both your sets of parents were out for the night and they'd known each other long enough to trust each other's kids enough, so neither of you needed to message them about it. You watch him sprint out of his room and after a few minutes, you here the doorbell ring.

You head downstairs and open the door to find a panting Jamie leaning on the frame. "3 minutes, new record time."

"Well, they do say I'm one in a million." He jokes as you let him inside and he takes off his shoes.

"Who's they, in this situation?"

"Mum." He says blankly, collapsing on the couch. "And Simon."

You laugh, before lifting his legs and shuffling on the opposite side of the couch. You rest them on your lap for a second, before a wave of stench from his feet hits you and you shove them off. Jamie goes back to sitting upright and he instead leans his head on your shoulder.

You turn on the TV and start browsing for a movie as your entertainment for the night. Most weekends were like this; hanging out in one of your houses, ordering pizza — which Jamie did as you looked through channels, — and relaxing on the couch.

The order was placed and you settled on the Hunger Games this time. You watched the first part of the movie in silence as usual, but once the pizza arrived, Jamie decided to change things up.

"Wanna play 20 questions?" You look at him curiously. You knew practically everything about each other, so why on Earth would you play a game that's every person's go-to icebreaker?

You don't have a chance to protest because after taking a bite of the pizza, he asks, "What were you doing before I got here?"

Your eyes widened at that. Maybe the one thing you never really talked about with Jamie was your future. Neither one of you would admit it, but there wasn't any chance that you two were going to be doing the same things in your career. You had academia and Jamie had football. It's hard to imagine something that kept the two of you together and also made both of you happy, so you never brought it up.

"Uh, I was having a wank," you joke but Jamie isn't amused. He continues to stare at you with an expression that you rarely ever saw; he was being serious. "I was trying to write my personal statement."

 You look cautiously at your best friend who is quiet for the first time tonight. He takes a bite of his pizza again and with a full mouth, says, "And? How's it going?"

You groan and lean your head back. "Fucking terrible. I can't think of anything to say about myself."

"The fuck do you mean? You're like the smartest person I know." He points out and while you're touched he thinks that, you sigh.

"Unis don't just look at grades anymore. They want substance and worldly impact from their applicants. How the fuck am I supposed to change our societal landscape at fucking seventeen?" You admit, and it's like a weight has been lifted off of you. You drop your plate of pizza on the table and lean into Jamie's side.

"You want me to write it for you? I've got a bunch of great things to say about my best friend." He offers and you finally let out a laugh. "I can put how fucking amazing you are at Scrabble, how you can predict the ending of a movie in the first 20 minutes, how loud your voice can get when you cheer me on at a football game, and how you can hear a song once and already figure out how to play it on the piano."

You look up to find Jamie giving you a wide smile and his happiness is contagious. But that feeling is almost instantly replaced when you remember the position you two are in and feel your heart beating faster.

You don't ignore the fact that Jamie has grown up a lot more in recent years: finally passing you in height, having more defined arm muscles, and definitely growing into his features. It's harder to feel normal when you do the things you did as kids like when he rests his head or arms on your shoulders, pulls you into his chest to stop you from walking in front of a passing car, or just like right now when you're leaning into him, his arm pulls you closer to his body.

You slowly pull yourself away, but then he grabs hold of your hand instead. You've held hands before, but again, there's just something different about now. You decide to leave it there before finally replying, "I'm sure with that kind of stories in it, they'll let me into fucking Oxford." The two of you laugh before you grab your plate of pizza again and turn to back to the movie.

—

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” You hear someone say, as you turn the corner to your school’s locker room.

It was normal to hear the players get nervous before the finals, but hearing Jamie Tartt panicking was a whole new thing for most of your classmates. Some league teams had sent scouts for the striker in this game and while everyone knew he’d do great, it seemed like the school’s support still wasn’t enough to convince him of that.

When his teammates couldn’t snap him out of it, their Plan B was to call you.

“Sorry, I’m looking for my best friend, Jamie Tartt. Brown hair, blue eyes, kind of conceited, but pretty nice if you get to know him.” You start out jokingly, but when his panicked eyes landed on yours, you quickly shift gears. “Shit, sorry. Not the time for jokes, I guess.”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m off my game right now,” He starts, still trying to catch his breath as he moves around frantically. You take his hands into yours in order to steady him, but when that doesn’t work, you grab him by his shoulders.

Usually, Jamie would be towering over you, but with his slumped posture at the moment, you were almost eye-to-eye with the guy. “Jamie, take a deep breath. Focus on me, okay?”

You’ve gone through this enough times — usually with you in Jamie’s place — to know how to calm him down.

He follows your directions and you slowly nod your head. “Keep breathing, just do that for now.” Jamie closes his eyes and slowly starts to steady himself. Your hands move from his shoulders to his hands like you initially planned.

“I know it’s fucking terrifying, but believe me when I say that you are incredible. You know how you always tell me that I’ll smash it as Model UN conferences? This time, I’m the one telling you you’re gonna be the best fucking player out there.” You pause for a moment in case he reacts, but all Jamie does is nod his head. “I believe in you. Georgie and Simon believe in you. Hell, this entire school fucking believes in you. I swear, I saw people planning a chant for you outside.”

That gets the player to laugh and you smile, seeing a glimpse of his usual self. “Also, I know I’m complimenting you right now, but better savor it cause I’m never inflating your ego like this ever again.”

“Not even when I help Man City get another win in my first year?” Jamie finally speaks up.

“I’ll be complimenting Pep, not you.” You playfully roll your eyes. “But to be able to do that, you have to get out and play today.”

Jamie straightens up and starts shaking away the nerves. He turns to head to his team, but not before giving you a quick hug and a ‘thank you.’ Once he enters the locker room again, you start heading back to your seat.

—

Age 18

"Do you really want to do this?" Jamie asks carefully, but you've already made up your mind as you pull him closer.

You were going off to university in a few months and Jamie would be doing his summer training soon. Both his and your parents were out of town on a couple's retreat, so it was either now or never.

You knew that going off for college would increase the chances of your first time being with a random guy you met at a frat party infinitely, so you could say it was a calculated decision to jokingly ask Jamie when you talked about it if he'd be willing to sleep with you.

You didn't really expect anything and for the first few seconds, Jamie was too in shock to actually reply. You immediately tried to dismiss it as a joke, but before you could, he replied, "Sure."

You knew that Jamie had already had sex with girls before, — hearing him try and sneak the girls out of his bedroom window was always a fun story to bring up the next day — so you thought that it would just be another one for him.

But that night was the most delicate you've ever seen him. He didn't rush you or make you feel uncomfortable. He checked up on you constantly, making sure it didn't hurt and you were actually enjoying yourself. You made sure to hug him after, — not being able to say any words of gratitude out loud, — and you eventually went to sleep like that.

You woke up the morning after, still with him beside you, but after you got changed and he went back to his house, neither of you brought it up again. You went back to your old routine of hanging out in the afternoons and movie nights as if nothing even happened.

And it really was for the best, considering that the next time you had sex really was in a frat house’s bathroom.

—

Now, you were loading the last of your things into your car for your family road trip to Cardiff, which was to also move you into your dorm. Your mom was recounting the boxes, making sure you didn't forget anything because in her words, "We are not driving 3 and half hours twice just to bring you your toothbrush." Your dad was in the kitchen fixing up snacks for the trip, so you decide to take this chance and finally say goodbye to your best friend.

You barely saw Jamie in the weeks leading up to this since he spent most of his time at training. Even on weekends, he would be passed out in his room from the painstaking drills of the days prior. So as you knock on their door, you aren't very hopeful.

It reveals Simon who instantly pouts and brings you in for a hug. You always appreciated him for how he accepted Jamie into his life, despite the latter's fears that he'd be just like his father.

"Come inside," He offers, but you shake your head. You had to leave soon and you didn't want to delay the trip any longer. “Alright, but I was actually baking some muffins that you guys can take on your drive there, and you can’t say no to those.”

You laugh as you nod, before asking, "Is Georgie home?" 

Simon calls out to his wife to tell her that you're about to leave. You soon hear quick footsteps descending the stairs before you are once again enveloped in a hug. 

Simon heads out to presumably pack up those muffins, but you're too distracted by the rising feeling of sadness as you say goodbye to the woman whose practically been your second mother for a decade.

"You stay safe, okay? I know you'll enjoy your life there, but don't make your parents worry too much. Cause then they won't be able to stop talking about you," You laugh at her prediction before giving her one last hug.

Simon races back to you with a brown paper bag which he hands over, along with a pat on the back. You turn around to see if there's any sign of your best friend, but Georgie answers that for you. "He said he might be running late at practice." You feel your heart sink, but do your best to mask it. You wave goodbye to the couple before walking to the car.

You hand your dad the bag of muffins and sigh, "We can go." Your parents exchange a look but oblige nonetheless. You start heading into the car when you hear the call of your name.

You turn to see Jamie, still in his kit — shorts and all, — running towards your house. You decide to meet him halfway and once he's close enough, the football player pulls you into a tight hug, as if he's never letting go.

"Did you really think I'd let you leave without saying goodbye?" He whispered into your shoulder.

"If you're in trouble for leaving practice early, that is not on me." You try and keep it light-hearted, but his laugh only makes the pit in your stomach feel worse.

"Call me, okay? As often as you can. And send me pictures of all the stadiums you're playing in. I don't care if you send ten pictures of Etihad Stadium in a row, just do it. If you ever come to Cardiff, take some time off to see me. And," you try and think of more things to say, but Jamie cups your face in his hands to make you stop.

"I'll see you during the off-season, yeah?" Jamie's look is soft and you can feel the dam stopping your tears about to break.

"Don't you fucking forget me, Jamie." You try and say as angrily as you can, but your voice cracks as Jamie pulls you into another hug.

The two of you finally separate and you head off to your car. You stop yourself from looking back as you get into your seat. 

Jamie doesn't take his eyes off you, though. He watches as your car starts and turns the corner off your street.

A/N: hope you all enjoyed this one! if you couldn't tell, some of these flashbacks were based on the song 'it's nice to have a friend' by taylor swift which is what inspired this whole thing! see you next week for the official first chapter !!

[underoossss]

What If’s -Miguel O’Hara

pairing: miguel o’hara x fem!reader

warnings: spoilers for across the spiderverse!!!! a couple of vampire jokes here and there. kissing, yearning, idk if those are warnings.

an: there’s no better character than miguel to write a wholesome hurt/comfort friends to lovers fic. this is my first time writing for him and I hope I did a good job lmao. let me know how I did!

★★★★

“I know I said I don’t mind your company.” Miguel’s voice reaches you from the platform he’s perched on in the middle of his lab. “But do you have to turn the volume up so loud?”

Your laugh echoes the room as you press a button twice to decrease the volume for a moment. “It helps me focus. Some of us have jobs aside from being a superhero you know.”

“Oh is saving the world not enough of a job for you?” Miguel’s eye-roll is clear in his tone and it makes you smile. “Perhaps you don’t know it but here we’re trying—”

“I know, I know, Twilight.” You wave him off over your shoulder. “What I mean is I like having a job, and I’m super smart so they let me work remotely.”

“All spider people are ‘super smart’ as you put it.” Miguel says, from somewhere behind you as you tap away on your laptop.

“Huh,” You fake surprise, then speak through a grin. “Here I thought I was the only one, good to know you’ve got a brain behind your broody eyes.”

Miguel’s breathy chuckle makes your heart jump, and you turn on your seat to catch the corner of his mouth lift in a half smile. Going back to the report you have to finish for your regular job, you turn the music up again and rest your feet on the desk in front of you. “I can feel you judging me, Twilight.”

“I am.” Miguel calls back to you and you smile.

There’s nothing that makes your body fill with warmth like Miguel. From being his most annoying spider recruit since the day you met —you saw he had fangs, and he never lived the vampire jokes down— your relationship has blossomed  into a beautiful friendship over time. The kind of friendship where everything is easy around each other, where you anticipate the other’s needs, and the kind that started with sharing trauma. Both of you’ve lost many people, and it’s probably the reason why you cling to the other as much as you do. You’re a stubborn tangle in his hair and he's as present in your life as the breeze that hits your face when you’re swinging through the city. You bring out the best in each other —regardless of you annoying him every single day— and this deep connection you seem to have is most likely the one responsible for the lines between friendship and love to be so blurred between you. You’ve fought by his side multiple times, and you love it, but there’s nothing you love more than these quiet moments with him, where you just exist near each other, and everything feels right. Though you love seeing him in action, more often than not getting distracted by his ruthlessness, strength, and skill, you love doing simple things with him too. Miguel showing up to your place when you’re cooking dinner and refusing to dance along with you; Miguel getting coffee with you after much insistence to leave his desk; Miguel sighing at your bad jokes which only makes you laugh more; Miguel staying over at your place, his presence a warm reassurance that you’re safe.

Insistent pinging takes your mind away from its memories, and you’re quick to set your work aside and swing to the platform to see what’s going on. Lila has appeared over Miguel’s shoulder and is gesturing at the many alarms popping up on the yellow screens. A canonic event has been interrupted, a black hole has opened under the city of Mumbattan on earth 50101,  Miles Morales —the Spider-Man Miguel’s been keeping tabs on for a while— is in that dimension for some reason, and there’s a multiverse-jumping anomaly on the loose.   

Miguel’s face darkens, a mix of worry, fury, and tiredness forcing his features down into a deep frown. He pinches the bridge of his nose before talking to Lyla as he flips through the screens. “Tell Jessica to go to Earth 50101 and bring backup with her. We need to contain that black hole.”

“On it.” Lyla disappears for a moment before she’s back by Miguel’s side. “What else?”

“Bring Miles Morales to me.” He says, setting his hands on the table in front of him and looking at the screen that show’s Miles stopping the canonic event. “It’s time we stop this mess at its source.”

“Miguel?” Your eyebrows shoot up at his words, worry settling on your chest. “What do you mean?”

Lyla disappears a moment later as Miguel’s monitors keep flipping through the events in Mumbattan. Alchemax blowing up as a result of the anomaly calling itself the Spot turning on the supercollider. The building collapsing on itself.

“You know what I mean.” The man in front of you furrows his brows in anger. “He’s become a threat since the moment he was bitten. It was never even supposed to happen, you can’t expect me to let him go on like this. To keep disregarding canon as much as he pleases.”

“You know I’ve always supported you, Miguel.” You take his hand in both of yours and squeeze it tightly. “I’m the one backing you up, winning everyone over when they get mad at you… But this is wrong.”

“It’s not.” He says, taking his hand back from you and clicking away on his computer. A moment later, moments in Miles Morales’ life float in the screens around you. “We have to stop him. He’s going to undo everything we do if not.”

“Miguel,” You furrow your brows at his words, then gesture towards him with your arms. “Listen to yourself, who’s more out of canon here, him or us? We weren’t bitten, that’s strike one; we can’t stick to walls, strike two; you don’t shoot webs and my senses aren’t heightened like everyone else’s. That’s strike three.”

It’s something that’s always intrigued you, but it’s never made you think of yourself or Miguel as less of a Spiderman than everyone else. That’s not what wearing the mask means; it means protecting those who can’t protect themselves. To be selfless and kind and self-sacrificing for the world, even if no one says thank you. If Miguel and yourself haven’t broken the multiverse just by existing, then why would Miles. If his world hasn’t collapsed then there’s nothing wrong with him being the superhero that he is.

Miguel ponders your words but shakes his head, still adamant to see things your way in this matter. “The kid–”

You take a step closer to him and cut him off before he can continue. “The kid was bitten, regardless of it being supposed to happen or not! He has lost someone dear already and has basically followed every other spiderman rule, Miguel. I don’t think he’s the reason this is happening.”

Your friend, the object of your affections, turns his back towards you, going back to his screens. They show the events of Mumbattan now, the way Miles saved the captain and the little girl from being crushed by falling debris. There’s also the black hole in the city, threatening the people they tried so hard to save. The hole is so similar to the Spot’s that you’re sure an analysis would prove it right. But Miguel isn’t seeing reason. “He is.”

“It’s the Spot’s fault!” You raise your voice, frustration getting the best of you more a moment before you take a deep breath. Trying to see things from his perspective, you place a hand on his upper arm, your voice falling down to a reassuring whisper. “I know you’re scared of the world collapsing again, but it won’t.”

Your heart falls when he shrugs your hand off and turns to look at you. The many screens around you dance across his features, and after inhaling deeply Miguel speaks again. “You don’t know that.”

“I do,” You smile sadly, hoping that your confidence in him will let him see what’s right under his nose. “I know it because this time you’re here, Miguel, guiding us and making sure it doesn’t happen again. You just need to see that Miles isn’t the problem.”

“Everything started with him.” Miguel argues, his voice emphasizing the word everything, definite on his theory. His eyes are full of resentment, not towards you, but towards the situation. Days and nights of working himself thin in this office, weighing on his broad shoulders.

Your squeeze your eyes shut before you look at him again. He’s so blinded by his own past mistakes; he thinks Miles will repeat them. When you speak again your voice is soft despite your irritation. “Miguel, you know in your heart it didn’t, and I know that because we’re the same.”

He exhales and looks into your eyes; they soften only slightly as they lock with yours. You try to urge him once again to forget this theory for a moment and see things differently if only for a second. He needs to know you don’t think it has to come to this –an attack towards the young spiderman– and that you won’t be a part of it if it does.  

“If I feel it, then you must feel it too.” Though you’re talking about his plans for the young spiderman, the underlying topic of your feelings for him are clear as day in the way you look at him. You let your guard down, and say barely above a whisper, “Please. You know I can’t follow you, not this time.”

His eyes look aways from you as his shoulders tense, a clear sign of all the walls you’d crumbled building back up. “You want me to risk everything, including you, over a what-if?”

“Everything’s a what-if, Miguel.” You smile sadly at him, then set your shoulders straight as you step away from the platform and from him. “But I guess that settles that.”

Miguel takes two steps and catches up to you before he reaches for your hand. There’s a tightness around his brown eyes from the way you’re looking at him tearfully. They shift to confusion a moment later, when his hand moves upwards towards your wrist and you grin. Taking another step back, you hold your watch on your opposite hand, showing him that you knew he’d try to take it from you. You know him better than he gives you credit for.

“I’ll see you when you’ve changed your mind, Twilight.” You fiddle with your watch until a portal opens and when it does, you throw the device back at him. Though your throat is tight, emotion concentrating there as tears sting your eyes, you keep yourself from crying. “Otherwise… I guess this is goodbye.”

Not bearing to look into the new despair in his eyes, you turn around and walk into your dimension without looking back. When the portal closes behind you, you’re back in your apartment, the room dark around you safe for the lamp you forgot to turn off in the morning. Every corner you look at you see Miguel’s lingering shadow; the wall he always leaned against when you talked in the kitchen, the couch where the two of you always hung out –your legs over his lap and your laptop over yours as he waited for you to finish working. You wrap your arms around yourself, hoping for some comfort to come from it.

Hoping this mess can be fixed.

It is only a day later when the first step towards it being resolved, happens. You’ve been swinging through the city, patrolling different neighborhoods and keeping an eye out for any anomalies. Without your watch you’ve been disconnected from the Spider Society. Most importantly from Miguel, and although you try to, you can’t help but wonder what’s happening back in the HQ. You've barely been to your apartment since your fight with Miguel, your heart feels like a fading bruise –not quite broken but yearning painfully– and the last thing you want to do is spend time somewhere that will bring his memory back to you. So quick stops to shower, work, and eat, in between patrols are all you’ve allowed yourself. You’re swinging to one of these stops, when you spot a lonely figure standing in your balcony.

Even from afar you know its him, no one else has his shoulder-to-waist ratio, and no one else makes your heart skip quite like he does. Despite being vexed from your last conversation, you feel his heart call out to yours, and the way his eyes rise to see you swing towards the balcony are all the confirmation that you need that your assumptions were right. He would come around eventually, you knew it, you never thought it would be this fast though. What have you done now, Miguel?

You land on the balcony next to him, nod towards your door so he can follow you inside. Once the door closes behind you, you take your mask off and Miguel’s vanishes too. There’s no awkwardness as you stand in front of each other in the middle of the living room, only silence in an otherwise joyful room. The lights are still off in your apartment but you don’t move to turn them on, instead you shrug and motion towards the balcony.

“Nice timing.” You say, trying to keep your voice light. “What are you doing here?”

“You said you’d see me when I changed my mind.” His voice is low, like he’s worried the moment will shatter if he speaks any louder.

“You did?” Your question is followed by a step closer to him, but a frown appears on your face. “What changed it?”

“I’m sorry. I made a mistake.” He whispers, brows furrowed together creating a deep crease between them. His eyes won’t meet yours but from the city lights outside your apartment, and the glow from his suit, you can see the deep regret in them, and the embarrassment from admitting his wrongs. “Then made a mess out of everything.”

“Miguel–”

“You can say I told you so, because you were right.” He turns to you, bringing his hand to hold your cheek briefly before he sighs and walks away, closer to the balcony’s window.

“What happened?” You follow him, standing next to him. Part of you is afraid he’s going to leave the same way he arrived, and panic settles on your chest. You urge him to keep talking though, you won’t give him a chance to shut down this time. “What happened with Miles?”

“The Spot’s stronger than before and going to Miles’ dimension to destroy it and then possibly many others.” Miguel clenches his hands into fists, the muscles around his neck tensing, the stress and worry in them is clear for you to see. “But he’s not there, because of me.”

You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose, a mannerism you’ve gotten from the man next to you. Of course he scared the kid off; you love this man more than anything, but he really needs to work on his first impressions. “Where is he? How can we find him?”

“I have an idea; I think his friends do too.” Miguel starts, then shakes his head, some strands of hair falling over his forehead. “Maybe the dimension of the spider that bit him is a good place to start.”

“Then we find him, Miguel.” You move to stand in front of him, your back to the window and the city, all your focus on him. “We find him, we bring him home, and we defeat the Spot.”

He nods almost imperceptibly his gaze in the distant glimmering buildings, his handsome yet tired features washed in light blue and purple light. You know he can feel your gaze on him, burning a hole on his face but his eyes won’t look away from the window. When he doesn’t give in a moment later, you bring both of your hands to his face. Half expecting him to move away, you’re surprised when he lets you, and a small breath escapes him at the contact.

“Why won’t you look at me?” You whisper, your thumbs moving softly over his cheekbones. “Everything will be alright; we can fix it.”

“I almost lost everything by trying to prevent it from happening again.” He confesses, eyes full of torment when they finally meet yours. They glisten in the light, worry and despair making his icy layers melt for you too see him clearly. It’s enough to make you tear up. When you try to say something, he cuts you off as if knowing what you’re about to say. “I almost lost you.”

You shake your head fervently. “You were never going to lose me, we’re best friends I don’t think we’re capable of losing each other.”

“We’re more than that.” He says, voice gentle as he takes your hands from his face and holds them in his, they dwarf yours in size. “I feel it too and I’m sorry if it’s too late.” His words echo back to your last conversation, and it makes your stomach flip. Finally, after so much time, your feelings are bare in front of each other. Precious jewels you would never trust to anyone else, both broken, both put back together, and perfect for the other.

“It’s not.” You shake your head and let go of his hands, moving them instead to rest on his shoulders. A smile makes its way to your face, and the way Miguel’s lips move to mirror it makes your heart soar.

A moment later his head is tipping downwards as you step on the tip of your toes to kiss him. It’s an electric moment, a canonic event itself with the way all the pieces seem to fall into place. You move your arms around Miguel’s shoulders and hitch yourself higher to wrap your legs around his waist. His approval is hummed into your mouth as his lips move ardently against yours. One of his arms goes around your waist while the other moves up your back to bury his hand in your hair, tipping your face in the perfect angle to kiss you into a blissful state. Your sighs are unstoppable and he’s more than happy to catch them with his lips as your hands move to his hair. This is all you’ve wanted, to have him completely, for the two of you to accept the feelings that have always been there.

Eventually your passionate kiss simmers down to something slower, calmer. Miguel’s lips brush yours softly; barely-there kisses that move to the corner of your mouth, your cheek and along your jaw. His voice is rough when he whispers against your lips in a gentleness he rarely shows, “I love you, I always have.”

“I love you, you broody, cheap Twilight vampire wannabe.” You murmur, brushing your nose against his as he chuckles under his breath, before he sets you down. “We should go.”

“Only if you want to.” Miguel tells you, holding out your watch on the palm of his hand.

You take it from him and put it on with a smile. “Please, you’d be lost without me.”

His hand cups your cheek for a moment, a soft smile just for you on his face as he says, voice low. “Right again.”

In front of you a new portal appears, back to Miguel’s office to round everybody up. The future might still be up in the air, and there might be many battles ahead before this multiversal conflict is solved. But one thing you know for sure is that with the right team, the impossible can happen. You’re sure Miles’ team has his back, but a little backup wouldn’t hurt them, would it?

You take Miguel’s hand and squeeze it in yours before walking backwards to the portal. “Come on Twilight, let’s help the kids save the world.”

[witch-hazels-musings]

familiar 

Warning -> comfort, SFW - sick fic! (reader is sick: aches and pains, sore throat, general sick descriptions | reader passes out | reader is carried | reader is taken to an unfamiliar location and wakes up a bit disoriented but is safe | Childe: reader is threatened but unharmed, fingers get cut off of random person)

Includes: Childe, Diluc, Thoma

Character X GN Reader | Anthology

Your skin was burning. You breathed and the air felt like fire as it passed across your chapped, dry lips. Someone called your name and you turned, lifted yourself from a hunched position to look only for the action to make your head swim.

You smiled anyway.

"Hello, how can I help you?" The patron near the counter slid something toward you. What was it? You blinked and realized there were several items in a basket. You swore they multiplied as you pulled them out one by one. The transaction was the slowest you'd completed in your life but it wasn't the last as several more people stepped in line. You felt a bead of sweat run down your spine.

You smiled and greeted them.

--

Your head throbbed. Parts of your body you rarely thought about ached, cried out in pain as you rose from the chair.

Finally, you could go home. Could rest.

Unsteady, the world teetering as you made your way toward the door, you caught your breath near the entrance only to realize you'd left your bag and the shop key in the back office.

Coughing, you tried to clear your throat and push through the waves of disorientation as you meandered back down the hall. You labored in the doorway with ragged breaths trying to remember what you went back here for. Pressing your forehead against the trembling and clammy hand that held onto the door frame, you tried to focus.

"What did I ..." you mumbled, scanning the room. A flash of flickering light from outside caught your attention. Pushing forward you grabbed the key and made your way to the front door.

The outside air felt as refreshing as drinking a cold glass of water on a hot day. You gasped at the way it caressed your skin, at the way it soaked into the mist that speckled your brow, that clung to the edges of your hairline. You breathed deeply, welcoming the strain of your lungs before an inevitable cough tore you from the reprieve. You crumbled, caught your breath, then, with multiple uncoordinated attempts, locked the front door.

It was hard to concentrate, but you let your muscle memory carry you through the streets. You did your best to smile and keep a safe distance from those you passed, though most people didn't seem to notice you, even when you staggered and caught yourself on a beam for support.

I just have to get home, you told yourself. Eyes blurry, head swirling and disorganized. The stack of crates next to you served as a useful crutch. You did your best to catch your quickening breaths against them. All you wanted to do was sleep.

You made it through the day like this, what was a few more minutes?

A surge of strength rose in you as you pushed away from the pile of crates but as soon as you took a step your legs crumbled and you fell into a heap at the edge of the street. Your hands burned from the violent contact of the sharp, frozen ground. Puffs of steam exploded from your mouth as you struggled to take in as much air as you exhaled.

You swore you heard your name but when you turned your head to look, the world went dark.

--

Childe

His smile faded as soon as they left his office. The click of the door was the switch he needed to flip the mask he was so good at wearing. Just like he had learned - like a good boy.

He wiped his face with the palm of his hand and rose from his chair. At least they gave him a window - though perhaps it was more of a tease than a gift. A reminder that he was trapped in a room with suffocating walls. Like a caged animal, whose only desire was to feel the soil beneath their feet.

He hated when they made him do this work. Even if it was a pain, he'd rather be out in the field training new recruits than sitting in this stifling room signing off on peoples debts they'd never repay.

Childe sighed and leaned against the window. He scanned the passersby, hoping, wishing one of them would give him an excuse to leave this cramped office. Though, it was unlikely - Liyue rarely had anything fun. He missed the days before the Archon fell. At least then he had toys to play with.

A knock rattled his thoughts, "We've got three more for you, sir."

"Tell them to come back tomorrow," Childe called without looking at the massive and decorated door.

"I'll be sending in the next one shortly," they replied, clearly ignoring him. He rolled his eyes and looked back down to the street. In the corner, just out of view, he saw someone stumble through a back alley. He would have passed it off as a drunk if there wasn't an air of familiarity to the figure.

Childe pinched his brow as drifting voices spilled in from the hall.

He turned to head back at his desk but gave one last look to the alleyway and saw a small group taking the same path the stumbling person just walked.

"Childe will see you now," the voice said as they opened the door to Childe's office, head bowed and eyes closed as their arm escorted them inside.

"Um - who will?"

The voice snapped their eyes open to see an empty office with an open window and billowing curtains. "damn-it", they cursed and ran down the hallway.

-

Childe stayed in the shadows. Curiosity leading the way as he stalked the group. Further down the alley something crashed onto the stone ground but he had a hard time making out what it was. The group turned a corner and he could hear their voices echo off the tight buildings. He leapt onto a nearby walk-way hoping to get a good view of whatever was about to happen below, but when he saw who they were stalking their way toward, he finally understood why his body leapt out the window on its own.

Rage filled him as he launched forward so he could land between your gasping body and the oncoming group.

"What did I tell you guys? Easy pickins -- woah!" The group raised their hands as a wave of water splashed against them. They all stumbled, but one fell to the ground. "What the-"

"I suggest you leave."

"Huh?!" The one in the middle stepped forward, clothes soaked, hands fumbling for a knife. "T-this was ours first. So b-back off," he tried to puff out his chest but looked more like a drenched toad than anything to be frightened of. It would have made Childe laugh it he weren't currently seething, and if he hadn't looked back to see you shaking, terrified as you barely held yourself off the ground.

"If you're looking for a fight, I'll happily provide you one," Childe threatened, his blades appearing in his hands and sending out a high pitch whine as they danced in his grip, "See I've been cooped up all day and could really use a good workout."

"H-hey man, let's just go," one of them quivered, grabbing the 'leaders' arm.

"No, this is ours - we need thi-" the leaders voice died out as a slash of water cut through the fingers that had managed to grip his feeble knife in the first place. The man screamed, doubled over while his friends held onto his shoulders to keep him from falling to the ground.

"I must not have heard you correct. Because, I'm pretty sure you just called something of mine, yours?" Childe took a step toward them, his body raging, his blades growing at the thought of them calling you theirs. "So, I'm going to give you another chance to repeat yourself."

The group scurried like rats down the drenched alleyway and though he was half-temped to chase after them, to teach them a lesson, he barely made it a step when something burning grabbed his pant leg.

In an instant, his blades faded into nothing and he turned to scoop you into his still trembling arms. You were on fire, and even though he could tell you had near to no strength, you still managed to wrap your arms around his neck and hide against him.

With a possessive hand cupping the back of your head, he held you close and made his way to where he knew you'd be safe.

--

You could finally breathe without a protest from your lungs. Only a few areas ached instead of everywhere, and though you were still warm, you felt surrounded by cool waters.

Shifting, you tried to sit up, to open your eyes, but something covered your eyes and you fell back into satin.

"Sleep," a voice told you. It felt stern, but warm. Your tried to push the darkness away but found it hard, even when you curled your fingers around the palm of someone's hand. "You're still sick. So go back to bed."

"Where -- where am I?" you croaked, your voice dry and scratchy.

"You're safe." The voice felt so familiar. You breathed and though your nose was stuffy, you caught a whiff of something that made you turn your head toward the dip in the bed.

"... Childe? What's happening?"

"Don't worry your head over it. You're alright, that's all that matters."

You listened to his voice, felt his palm against your skin, sensed his presence next to you. You weren't sure how you got here, honestly you weren't sure where you even were, but Childe was here - he was right here and, as you moved closer to him and let your forehead press against his side, you felt safer than you ever had in all your life.

--

Childe turned his head from the book in his hands to glance at the sleeping figure next to him. It was the first time he'd ever seen you so relaxed, so at ease. The first time you'd ever been this near to him - the first time you'd ever been in his bed.

Carefully, he ran his fingers over your ear and let them know the taste of your skin while you slept.

He sighed and wondered how he was ever going to let you go now.

--

Diluc

The cold air reminded him another season was passing, changing. He'd stopped trying to measure the passage of time years ago, but there was something about cold, night air that felt like a ticking clock. Or maybe it was the reliable pocket watch he kept with him while he worked to help him tell when he could 'respectfully' request everyone leave so he could do more, important, work.

"Master Diluc," Charles said as he slid a heavy wooden box onto the back counter, "I think we've got another in the back."

"Great," Diluc held back a sigh but not the heavy roll of his eyes, and stashed the cup he had just pulled down for a customer. "Finish this up. I'll deal with it."

"Sounds good. What can I getcha?" he asked the drunk patron who didn't seem bothered to repeat their order to the new, friendlier, bartender.

Diluc reached for his jacket as he passed the back office. His hair snagged the coarse fabric as he pulled it from underneath. He adjusted the collar before opening the door to the back alley.

He hated dealing with drunks in the first place, but a sick one throwing up behind his establishment was somehow worse.

Scanning the immediate area didn't reveal anything to him. So he took another step into the chilly evening. Off in the distance, near the stairs that lead to the small docks on the lake, he saw a silhouette hunched over a stack of crates. Ones he had just assisted in unloading earlier that day.

"Hey, don't make it other people's problem if you can't hold your ---" Diluc froze when he saw the blob of dark shadows turn into your shape and likeness. He blinked, thinking he had made it up, but as he drew closer he knew his eyes didn't lie. Normally, you would have waved to him, called out to him - brightened his day - but right now you looked terrible. When he called to you, you didn't answer.

His pace quickened when he saw you stumble away from the crates and he was practically running when you fell to the ground. He let out a breath when he was just in time to catch your head before it careened into the cobblestone.

"... are you ok--?" Diluc turned you toward him but he didn't need to feel your brow to know you were burning up. He could see it in your pained expression, in the moisture of the night as it drifted toward him. When he realized you didn't have anything on you, he took actions into his own hands. "Hold on."

Diluc hoisted you into his arms, made sure you rolled into him as he carried you swiftly back toward the bar. With every groan and whimper he became more concerned. His muscles tensed when your fingers weakly grasped his clothes. Even though it made you whine, he held you closer to him and picked up the pace.

There were only a few sounds in this world that made his heart stop.

He took no time carrying you up the stairs to the third-floor apartment he used on nights he didn't want to make the long walk back to the Winery. As he passed by the confused, and rightfully worried Charles, word was already on its way to the church to bring a healer.

--

You were so hot. Your back hurt to the point you wished someone would rip it from you. Every breath was agonizing but you couldn't convince yourself to stop breathing.

You felt somewhere between dead and alive, and though you didn't understand it, you found yourself in a bed you didn't recognize, in a room you'd never been in before.

The shapes came and went. A halo of light bloomed in the corner. You coughed, pulled back the sheets but froze when a figure now stood where the halo once was.

"Who --"

"Don't get up," a voice, a familiar voice said. The figure moved closer to you. You tried to lift your hands in defense but they were weak and in your uncoordinated move, you slipped from the sheets. "I got you," the voice comforted you. Gentle words that floated into your ear. Something sturdy and wrapped around your stomach.

The figure, which smelled like barrels of sweetened fruit, carefully helped you back into the bed. Strands of red filled your senses and brushed against your cheek. Kind fingers caressed your jaw as they slipped to the back of your neck and eased you onto your back.

"Try to rest. I've called on a healer." The figure spoke, their deep voice like the rustle of leaves in the morning sun. "You're safe. I've got you," they said like a mantra as their fingers soothed your weary eyes closed. "I've got you."

The warmth of their touch against your skin was soothing, but suddenly it was gone and you cried out, reached out your hand to find it again. "Don't go," you pleaded.

Their touch returned to your fingertips, then your palm as they took your shaking hand in theirs. "I'm right here," the voice soothed and let you hold your captured treasure close to your parted lips.

You found it strange that your sickness would concoct such a vivid and realistic specter in the shape of the man who held your heart.

--

Thoma

"Hah, not a problem," Thoma waved them off for the third time. "It really wasn't that difficult. So don't worry about it." He took another step back and let out a playful laugh even as the person bowed for the tenth time in front of him.

Eventually, after many more reassurances, he managed to be on his way and - surprisingly - was only ten minutes behind schedule. With speed, and restraining himself to only courteous waves and passing smiles, he hastily walked down the busy Inzuma streets. To save himself more time, he dipped into a less traveled alleyway and doubled his pace.

It wasn't uncommon to see random and sometimes unsightly scenes in the back alleys. Inazuma was safe, but it wasn't immune to crime. So, as he spied a figure hunched over a stack of crates, he debated if the person looked like they did, or didn't, belong there. When he got closer, he started to recognize bits a pieces of the blurry figure.

"What are you doing back here?" he asked, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips and growing with each second. When you didn't answer him, and he saw you stumble away from the crates and fall to the ground, his joy shifted to fear.

He swore he'd never run so fast in his life.

When you didn't answer him, or react to your name, he wasted no time in lifting you from the dirty, cold ground and into his arms. He wasn't far from the estate, but he also wasn't close. Normally you had a bag - one he remembered because you'd purchased it with him the last time the two of you went to the markets - but right now you were empty handed. Something was clearly wrong.

With you in his arms, Thoma rushed through the alley. His heart raced at the sound of your labored breathing, at the way your face scrunched with every jostle of his movements, at the trembling hand that gripped his clothes.

"Hold on," he soothed, "Just hold on." Thoma burst through the alley and ran through the crowded streets toward the Kamisato Estate.

--

Something cold touched your forehead and you let out a gasp at the contact. Instinctually, you tried to push it away with weak hands.

"I know its cold," a voice said. A comforting, familiar voice that called to your heart. Whoever it was took your hand and caressed your skin with a gentle thumb. "You have a fever, this will help."

You groaned, tried to open your eyes but found it hard. Your body ached and though you didn't want it to, it moved uncomfortably under plush sheets.

After a while the covering over your eyes lifted and you heard the sound of water falling. Turning your head, you pried open your burning eyes to capture blurry and unusual shapes. Your heart raced as you tried to figure out where you were, but the longer it took, the more concerned you were.

"I ha --- to go," you tried to push yourself up but swift footsteps met you before you could.

"Easy, you're sick. You need your rest."

Why was this voice so familiar?

You looked up, even though the action made your head throb. Squinting your eyes, the blob of yellow and red in front of you started to take shape.

"T-Thoma?"

The blob made a smile and pushed strands of your hair out of your face. "It's me," he reassured you, his hand cupping your cheek. Like someone who opened up a door to a dark room, his contact breathed new life into you.

He caught you You fell into him He ease you to rest You were finally at ease

"You found me," you said weakly with a thankful smile. His hand brushed the top of your head and the cold returned but, this time, it felt soothing, refreshing.

"I always do," he hummed and soon your uneasy breaths slowed and faded into healing slumber.

[starlightkun]

⇢ word count: 20.8k ⇢ warnings: past unethical experimentation, brief blood and gore descriptions (some human and some non-human), you have to accept the premise of a single human empire in space in the future with colonies and a military and not think deeper about that, multiple needle/injection mentions, knife/injury/blood description, main characters are morally gray, and oh yeah cursing ⇢ genre: sci-fi, set in the near-ish future, humans and aliens and robots, black op mission, captain kun, ?????? reader, slow burn, fluff, dash of angst, ft. wayv as the crew of the vision ⇢ extra info: took a lot of obvious inspo for this one from isaac asimov’s robot stories, specifically his concept of positronic brains & the three laws of robotics (and if you’ve read any of his stories, you’ll probably be able to see some other places too) ⇢ series masterlist | prev. | next

“You deserve to know that I’m not entirely human.”

“Is that really how you feel? Inhuman?”

“There are parts of me that are… manufactured. Irrevocably altered. I don’t think I remember how it felt before I was like this.”

The next morning, you were awake early again. You stared into the darkness, listening to Dejun’s breathing. The distant sounds of two voices started getting closer, and you perked up at this. If some of the others were up, you’d be more than happy to join them, see if they needed any help getting breakfast together.

Just as you’d swung your legs over the side of your cot to stand, you heard the distinct sound of your name float in as it sounded like they had stopped right at the campfire. They were keeping their voices low, but it did little to help with the absolute silence all around. You paused, overwhelmed with curiosity.

“I asked Xiao last night, if he thinks Y/N will ever remember.” The first voice was Kun, and you looked at the sleeping doctor in front of you curiously. You could only imagine this conversation happened before you walked into the captain’s tent last night.

“Yeah?” It was Kunhang with him. “What’d he say?”

“He can’t say for sure at this point, since he doesn’t know what caused it.”

“Useful.”

“That’s what I said.”

“Part of me hopes she doesn’t remember.” Kunhang let out a bitter sigh with his words.

“What?” Kun responded, and you imagined that his face was as bewildered as yours was right now. Why wouldn’t Kunhang want you to regain your memories?

“Dude, you saw where we found her.”

“God, yeah. The sort of shit she probably saw.”

“Or did. She’s the only survivor. You don’t exactly get through Hell by being sweet and virtuous.”

Kun’s voice was surprisingly harsh, “We don’t know—”

“Hey, no judgment here. Who knows what she had to do to survive. I wouldn’t want to remember that either.”

“Her hands were clean when we found her.”

“A bit too clean, don’t you think?” A third voice had joined them now, Ten.

“Maybe she hid early, got out before the worst of it.” Kun was still vehemently defending you.

“You think the same person who pulls people out of the way of falling ceiling chunks without thinking is a coward?”

“I’m saying we don’t know anything.”

“And I’m just saying something’s not right about how Y/N ended up in there, Captain.”

“Nothing here is right, Ten. This facility, the experiments, the Skippers, all of it.”

“And you’re letting the only person left who might be responsible for it walk around free.”

“I wouldn’t call being stuck with all of us ‘free.’”

“But it’s not exactly a prisoner’s watch.”

“Because she’s not a prisoner. For all we know they could’ve been experimenting on her—”

“Or she’s part of that vague They we keep referring to.”

There was a moment of tense silence—or at least it sure felt strained to you from inside your tent, you had to imagine it was suffocating out there—before Kun spoke again. “We have no clue what was going on here, and no proof that she did anything. Until we know anything for certain, I’m not going to treat her like a criminal.”

“I’m not saying you have to. Look, I like her too, she seems like a nice person, but maybe—”

A loud yawn came from your roommate’s cot, and the conversation outside suddenly ceased. Dejun sat up slowly, rubbing sleep out of his eye as he let out another forceful yawn.

“Oh, morning, Y/N,” he greeted you, stretching and groaning. “Sleep okay?”

“Yeah, I uh, I just woke up,” you replied awkwardly. A couple minutes could be classified as just, you were pretty sure. “How about you? Sleep okay?”

“Mm, like a baby. You’re a much better bunkmate than Liu. Kid talks in his sleep. Recites code and equations.”

You couldn’t help but laugh a little at the mental image, momentarily distracted from the conversation you’d just been listening to. “That’s rather unfortunate for Ten and Kunhang then.”

Dejun shrugged. “Wong shouldn’t have been such a weirdo, then he might’ve been your roomie.”

He stood up then, groaning as he leaned over to touch his toes, then reached up and fully stretched his arms over his head. “Alright, breakfast?”

Ten and Kunhang had just started on breakfast when you left your tent, and apparently didn’t need any help, so with nothing better left to do and a lot on your mind, you turned down the paths between the fields. The artificial sun had already risen, full daylight around you, making it easy to keep your eyes on the ground under your feet. It wasn’t long until you heard footsteps behind you. You stopped in your tracks and turned to see who it was.

“Don’t tell me I’m late for breakfast again,” you groaned. “I’ve been gone for two minutes.”

“No, you’re not,” Kun informed you, putting his hands in his pockets as he stopped in front of you. “Can I join you? On your walk?”

You put your hands on your hips, suspicious. “Why?”

“Why do I want to walk with you?”

“Yeah. The exit doors are within view of camp.”

“I don’t think you’re trying to escape. If you managed to get out of the facility, your only two options would be a K’llor ship that you don’t know the state of, and our ship that has ZEN on it, who would never let you past the entry bay, much less off the surface. I don’t think you’re that stupid. Are you?”

“No. Glad we’re on the same page.”

“So… was that a no on the walk?”

“You didn’t answer my question, Kun,” you replied frankly. “You’re not as good at that as you think you are.”

“At what? Avoiding?”

“Yes, like you’re doing now. Why do you want to walk with me?”

“You went on a walk with Liu yesterday, did you interrogate him beforehand as well?”

“You’re still not answering my question, you’re just asking me more questions.”

He rubbed his face and sighed. “You know, never mind.”

You let out an incredulous laugh. “Really? You just fold like that?”

“Clearly you want to be alone. I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t say that. All I did was ask you a simple question that you apparently can’t answer.”

“Ten and Wong are almost done with breakfast, I’d get going on that walk if I were you.”

“Fine.” You held your hands up. “I’ll be back in five minutes.”

Five minutes wasn’t nearly long enough for your liking, but as promised, you were back at the camp for breakfast. Kun and Dejun were already discussing something when you got back, Ten and Kunhang made you a bit uneasy after the conversation you overheard this morning, so you were pleasantly surprised when the Professor intercepted you, already with two plates of food in his hands.

“Want to eat with me?” He offered. “We can talk about plans for today.”

“Sure, Professor,” you accepted the food from him gratefully.

“I don’t think the notes will be too excessive for you to go through,” he began. “ZEN came equipped with the UHN’s entire language database, including what few Outspacer glyphs they had. My notes are just additions to that gathered during this mission—it’s not my focus language back in academia, so you’re not going to be reviewing years’ worth of research or anything.”

“What is your focus language then? For your xenolinguistics?”

The Professor momentarily looked over your shoulder, then back to you. “Ourogish.”

You tilted your head curiously. “Can you… make all those sounds?”

“I speak with an accent. But it’s passable.”

So they were doing something involving Ourogos and/or the Ourogi. Didn’t help much more, but it was information.

“So any corrections, missing links, anything you can give me and ZEN will be a help,” the Professor continued.

“I mean, I don’t know how good of a teacher I’ll be… I don’t even remember learning it.”

“Don’t worry, ZEN and I are quick learners.”

The other five left right after breakfast, and you were left with the Professor and ZEN. You took the Professor’s tablet that contained all of his notes under the shade of a tree in one of the nearby orchards. Resting your cheek in your palm, you started in on the file that had already been opened for you. You doubted ZEN would let you access anything else that was on here. The AI was projecting himself as a small cube above your knees, slowly bobbing up and down like a buoy in the ocean, but otherwise quiet as you worked.

The Professor, meanwhile, was restless, asking you what you were doing every two minutes, as he did something to the tree you were under, which you could hear by the rustling of branches and leaves.

After the fifth interruption, you finally told him through gritted teeth, “You know, Professor, this would go much faster if you didn’t stop me every two minutes.”

“Right. Sorry!” And he went back to messing with the tree.

A few moments later, he plopped down next to you, breathless, and held a plum out to you. You looked between him and the deep maroon fruit before accepting it.

“You seem off,” he said.

“What?” You mumbled, setting your plum aside.

“You seem off.”

“Do I?”

“Pissed that you have a babysitter?”

“Aren’t you pissed that you got landed with babysitting duty?”

He shrugged, taking a bite of his plum. “I’m a civvie, remember? I’d much rather stick back here and talk about a dead language than go look at a bunch of alien corpses.”

You made a noise of acknowledgment, still combing through his notes on syntax.

“So… What’d you do?”

“What?”

“To get put in time out. What’d you do that you need a babysitter?”

You let out a frustrated sigh, pushing some of your hair back from your face. “I deserve it, I know I do. It’s perfectly reasonable for Kun to stick me in camp all day but—I hate it.”

“Come on, you can tell me.” He nudged you with his elbow. “Us civvies have got to stick together, you know. What’d you do?”

“We were walking through the facility yesterday, and a piece of ceiling came loose. I didn’t even think about it, I just pulled Kun back so it didn’t hit him.”

The Professor burst into laughter, a stray drop of plum juice dribbling down his chin as he coughed through it. He sat forward, hitting himself on the chest with a fist. “Oh my God, that’s really good.”

“What’s so funny about that? I’m a liability, he had every right to leave me here with a babysitter.”

“Well, yes,” he chuckled. “If you’re going to be trying to save the guy in Class-V armor as an unarmored civilian with nothing but a rebreather, that’s a little concerning. But it’s also pretty funny. I bet that’s the first time Captain’s been genuinely surprised in years.”

“I’m glad you can see some humor in the situation.” You put your cheek back in your palm, striking out an error in his notes and starting the correction. “I think I ruined my chances of ever leaving the ag bubble again until you all take me to UHN Main for debriefing.”

“It’s not so bad in here.”

“Yeah, but… everything’s out there. Whoever I am, whatever I’ve done, whatever I wanted to do, whoever I wanted to be, is out there, was out there. And I’m stuck in here grading.”

The Professor was quiet, and for a second you were worried that he was offended at your comparison between his notes and a grade-schooler’s homework until he spoke. “Would it change anything?”

“What?”

“If you remembered? If you found out who you were, what you’ve done, what you wanted to do, who you wanted to be? Would it change anything?”

“How could it not?”

“Would you decide that’s who you are now, just because that’s who you were?”

“I-I mean, it was me. I’m not a different person just because I lost my memory.”

“How do you know? You just said, you don’t know who you were, what you’ve done, what sort of future you wanted for yourself.”

“Well…”

“Y/N, what do you want for your life?”

“To remember what it is. My life.”

“And if you can’t? Right now, what do you to do? What sort of person do you want to be?”

“I-I guess I want to be an okay person. Like, pretty good to the people around me? And, live a life that I like? I don’t know a lot about what I like, but I guess I’d figure that out, and do more of that stuff?”

“That’s good. That’s a pretty good aspiration, actually.”

“Isn’t it kind of boring?”

“A little.” He shrugged. “But maybe, the person you were before you lost your memory, didn’t want that. Maybe you wanted something that you would now consider to be bad. Imagine if the you before this wanted to kick as many puppies as possible before you died.”

“Why—”

“It’s a hypothetical. Do you want to do that, right now?”

“No, of course not.”

“If you found out, right now, that you wanted to do that before you lost your memory, would that change anything? Would you suddenly want to kick puppies?”

You crossed your arms. “No.”

“And do you want to crusade for Universal Peace until the end of your days?”

“That… sounds very tiring.”

“Yes? No?”

“Probably not.”

“So if you found out that the you before you lost your memory was dedicating your life to doing that, would you suddenly want to? Would that change anything?”

You took a deep breath. “No.”

“Obviously, it’s got to suck not remembering friends or family or anything like that. But you’re still a person without those memories, Y/N. You’re still you, just whoever you are now.”

“Thanks, Professor.” You smiled a little, spinning the stylus around in your fingers.

“Now, why did you cross that out?” He pointed to the section you had been absentmindedly correcting. “I could’ve sworn I had gotten that listing function correct.”

“You were close!”

“You completely scribbled it out.”

That night, you were helping Ten and Kunhang prepare dinner again.

“Everything okay, Y/N?” Ten asked as the two of you shucked some corn.

“Yeah, fine,” you answered shortly, tossing a corn husk onto the pile at your feet. “Why?”

“You seem a bit…”

“Off?” You guessed.

“Yeah.”

“That’s what the Professor said earlier.”

“Something happen with the captain?” Kunhang questioned from where he was chopping up ingredients with a pocketknife and plastic container as his cutting board.

You pressed your lips together in a line before replying. “I don’t know. Why are you asking?”

“He uh, he said he was going to join you on your walk this morning. And then came back alone.”

“We had an argument, I guess. It was about nothing.”

“Y/N—”

“No, seriously, it wasn’t anything of substance.” You huffed, grabbing your next cob. “I asked him why he wanted to walk with me, he refused to answer. That’s it.”

There was an odd pause, and you turned your gaze up to see the other two exchanging a look.

Ten spoke next, “Well I’m sure being stuck in the ag bubble with the Professor all day wasn’t fun either.”

“The Professor wasn’t the problem. Sucked being put in timeout. Rightfully so, but it still sucked.” You had finished with your ears of corn, and took them over to Kunhang’s makeshift station.

“So you saved him from getting concussed by falling ceiling with no concern for your own safety, big deal,” Kunhang scoffed, gesturing wildly with both hands as he talked. “If you ask me, that kind of instinct is a good thing. Bit hypocritical for the captain to be punishing you for it anyway.”

Ten watched Kunhang waving the knife around warily. “Careful with that thing, Wong, you’re gonna—”

As Ten was talking, Kunhang had tried to spin the knife around his finger by the handle, but you knew it wasn’t going to be successful, grabbing the spinning blade before it could take his finger off. And before you even realized what you were doing. The action registered in your mind at the same time the sharp edge cutting open your palm did, and you let out a yip of surprise and pain, dropping the knife to the ground.

“—take someone’s eye out.” Ten finished his sentence almost absentmindedly, staring at you with wide eyes.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck—” Kunhang cursed as you all watched blood well up in your hand from the cut. “Captain Qian’s going to kill me.”

“Well don’t just stare, go get Xiao!” Ten scolded his teammate, getting to his feet. “Or—fuck! ZEN! Where’s Xiao? Tell him to get over here!”

“Shit, Y/N!” Kunhang was scrambling around for something. “God damn it! Don’t we have paper towels or something?”

“What the hell is going on out here?” Kun emerged from his tent, annoyed gaze quickly flitting over all three of you before zeroing in on your hand and turning hard. He made it over to you in three quick strides, taking your hand by your fingertips to avoid where your blood had started to drip down your forearm to your elbow.

He looked down at the ground, and saw the knife at your feet glinting in the firelight. “What happened?”

Ten took the lead, “Wong was—”

When the captain immediately turned on him, Kunhang quickly jumped to defend himself.

“No, no, listen, I didn’t—Okay, yes, I probably shouldn’t have been trying out tricks with the knife, but Y/N just grabbed it. I didn’t do this to her,” he pleaded with Kun, then look at you desperately. “Y/N, tell him, come on.”

Kun turned back to you, a frank eyebrow raised. You looked between the three of them and nodded. “He’s telling the truth, Kun.”

“Wong, stop doing knife tricks,” Kun ordered sharply.

Kunhang gulped. “Sir, yes sir.”

“ZEN, call off Xiao,” Kun commanded, making the other two exchange a worried look. The captain’s tone was still biting as he addressed the AI again, “Of course not, tell him I’ve got her.”

Then Kun was ushering you towards his tent, and you obliged. The flap had been clipped up when you entered, and you noted that he unhooked it after him, letting it hang closed and unzipped. He nodded towards his own cot for you to sit, and you did so hesitantly, holding your non-injured hand under your elbow to catch the blood that you were now very aware was dripping onto anything under you.

Kun rooted around in a pack at the end of the cot, then pulled up and sat on the container that had served as your seat last night when you administered his injection. He unhooked his canteen from his waist, putting a towel across his knees before he flushed the wound and washed your arm. He patted your arm dry, and grabbed a flashlight from one of his pockets to shine onto your hand to get a closer look at the cut. It was a thin slice across most of your palm, but the majority of it didn’t look too terribly deep at least. More blood rushed to the surface again as he clicked the flashlight off and put it away, grabbing his next materials.

Kun didn’t even need to speak for you to feel the disappointment seeping off of him. He silently pressed a gauze pad to the slice, and you felt both a dull pressure and sharp sting, gritting your teeth against it to avoid making a sound. As he started wrapping bandages around the site, you finally put some kind of words together.

“I don’t know who I used to be, before I lost my memory,” you started quietly, and he flicked his gaze up from your hand to your eyes for a moment before looking back down at his task. “And it’s going to take a while for me to figure out who I am now. Maybe my whole life. But I know that I can’t stand the thought of seeing anybody, any of you, getting hurt if I can do something about it.”

“You’re telling me you’re going to keep doing stuff like this?” He was still meticulously wrapping your palm.

“Yes. And you can keep me in camp, have the other guys babysit me, whatever you need to do for your mission. But I didn’t want to make some promise to you that I know I’m not going to keep.”

Kun sat up straight again, having finished with bandaging your hand. He held your gaze steadily this time. “I suppose I should thank you for your candidness, and not lying to me just to get out of here.”

“Was that you actually thanking me, or…?”

“Let’s make a deal, since I’m not keen on making you a prisoner in the ag bubble for however long we’re here, you’ve proven yourself useful, and I need my crew out there and not on… babysitting duty.”

You perked up at this. “Okay, what are the terms?”

“I assume Xiao has already asked you to give me the injections?”

“He’s mentioned it. I’m not sure why he thinks I’d convince you any better, but you need them, Kun.”

“You can give me the injections every night, no complaining, no skipping. And you can leave the ag bubble with at least one of us. But whenever you do some stupid thing like this, you come get me, okay? I’m the captain, which makes everyone here my responsibility, including you.”

You nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, I can do that.”

Kun held out a hand, and you eagerly shook it with your non-bandaged one.

“So, I will see you back here after mess then.” He stood, starting to clean up.

“See you then.” You nodded, standing and slipping back out of his tent.

The others had all returned to camp, and Dejun immediately threw his hands up in disbelief as he saw you coming back over.

“What the hell?” He reached for your arm to inspect the bandages. “First I have ZEN telling me you have a medical emergency back at camp, then thirty seconds later he’s telling me there’s direct orders from the captain that I don’t need to come back for your medical emergency because he’s going to take care of it? Did the captain go to med school in the fifteen minutes I was gone?”

“It was just a cut, Dejun,” you reassured him, nevertheless letting him turn over the injured hand. “Clean cut, no debris in the wound, it just needed to be cleaned and bandaged up.”

He rolled his eyes, letting you go. “God, why am I here? Everybody’s a doctor now!”

Mess was a quiet and short affair, and you swore Kunhang scooped out an extra big portion for you tonight. After, everyone tended to their post-mess duties, and you kept an eye on Dejun in your periphery. You weren’t sure how much the others knew about Kun's injections, so you figured intercepting him in your tent to let him know was the safest choice. When Dejun ducked into your tent, you looked at the couple dishes that Ten was still drying and you would then need to put away.

“Hey, uh, I’m sorry, but do you mind if I go ask Dejun for something?” You asked them sheepishly, hoping they wouldn’t have any questions for that extremely vague question.

“Oh, shit, your hand!” Ten looked down at it. “Yeah, of course, I’m sure your endorphins have worn off by now, it must hurt like a bitch. Go, we can finish up.”

You hadn’t really thought much about the dull, persistent pain throughout dinner. Sure, it felt a bit uncomfortable whenever you bent or closed your palm, but that wasn’t really in the forefront of your mind. After all, you having a cut palm right now was much more manageable than Kunhang missing a finger for the rest of his life.

You bit down on your lip, feeling a little bad about misleading them, but then shot them a quick smile. “Thanks, guys.”

Hurrying over to your tent, you barely caught Dejun before he left, nearly toppling him over, in fact.

“Jeez, Y/N, see a ghost?” He stumbled back. He was still in his casual clothes, one of his medic packs around his hips like usual.

“No, sorry, didn’t mean to hit you,” you apologized. “I just wanted to find you before you went to Kun’s tent.”

“Why? Everything okay with your hand?” He asked.

“Huh?” You looked down at your hand, having once again forgotten that it was injured for a moment. “Oh, no, I’m okay—”

“I don’t mean to be abrasive, but can it wait? It usually takes at least fifteen minutes of coercion on a good day before he’ll let me do it. If he even does.”

“That’s why I’m here. Kun agreed to let me give him the injections. Every night, no complaining and no skipping,” you explained, watching as his face turned into a deep frown. “That’ll be okay, right? It’s just med-pods, those are designed for soldiers to use on themselves and each other in the field with no medical training.”

“Yeah, I’ve just been doing it because it’s kind of a weird angle for him to get to on his own, and I couldn’t trust him to do it every night himself.” Dejun slowly unzipped the pack, still with that same look on his face.

“Then… what’s wrong? You look worried.”

“Captain Qian just agreed to let you do the injections? Out of the blue?”

“We did make a deal,” you admitted, watching as he pulled a couple things out of the pack.

Dejun’s eyes shot up to yours as he placed a med-pod and alcohol wipe in your clean hand. “And what was your end? Stop catching flying knives with your bare hands?”

“Not quite… We both know I’ll probably do something like that again, so—”

“House arrest? Can’t leave the ag bubble until the mission is over?”

“When I leave the ag bubble, I have to be with one of you guys.”

Dejun didn’t conceal his unimpressed look very well. He probably wasn’t trying to.

“And when I do something like this again,” you held up your injured hand, “I have to tell him, since he’s responsible for everyone.”

The doctor rolled his eyes and scoffed, “Uh-huh. Go, I don’t want to give snark to the wrong person.”

“What—”

“Go. You need to give the captain his injection, remember?”

“Right. Uh, see you in a bit.” You tucked the materials into your pocket before ducking out of your tent.

The entrance to Kun’s tent was still down and unzipped, and you stopped outside, having learned your lesson last night. Hesitantly, you called out his name instead.

“Come in.”

You quickly parted the flap and slipped inside.

Kun was sitting on his cot already, and when he had appraised that you were alone, you saw his features contort from their usual stoic default to a slight wince. You pulled up the container seat next to him, and gestured for him to lie down.

“How’s your hand?” He asked, staying upright as he reached for your extremity.

“It’s fine, Kun,” you informed him, letting him look over the bandages. “Honestly, I keep forgetting about it, it barely even hurts.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. Now come on, your turn.” You took your hand back and pointed insistently at the cot.

He grabbed at his lower back and huffed a little bit as he maneuvered around to lay on his front. You frowned thoughtfully as he pulled up the hem of his shirt for you.

“Is the med-pod as effective as before?” You questioned, opening the disinfectant wipe.

“How do you mean?”

You delicately wiped the area, careful not to touch his skin with your fingers. “Is it wearing off faster? Does it not relieve as much pain as before?”

“I can’t be using up all our supplies.”

“Is that a yes?”

“One is fine.”

“But two would be more effective.”

“I can’t be using twice as many as before. If someone else needs them—”

“The UHN won’t resupply your vessel?”

He sighed. “They will. I’m just—I don’t know. I’m used to scarcity and self-reliance. Must be a Dura-Jil boy thing.”

You lined the med-pod up, and like last night, didn’t give a countdown before pressing the start button. “Is this your first crew?”

“Why would you ask that?”

“Because you said you’re used to self-reliance. If you’d been a captain for a while, you would have gotten used to relying on others, wouldn’t you?”

“Yeah, they are,” he chuckled fondly. “I do rely on them. Or I’m learning to, I guess.”

There was a pause, and as you watched the med-pod drain you felt a sense of urgency, not wanting to waste the opportunity you had in front of you. The conversation you’d heard this morning was still on your mind.

“What if it turns out that I was involved in whatever was going on here? Did horrible stuff…” You asked tentatively. “Then what’ll you do?”

“I don’t think you were,” he replied simply.

“You don’t know. I don’t know.”

“Call it a hunch.”

“I won’t resist, or try to escape. Whatever the UHN wants to do with me, I’ll comply fully,” you declared, quiet but firm in your convictions.

He turned to look at you over his shoulder, brow furrowed. “Why are you talking like you’ve already been put on trial and found guilty? You just said it yourself, we don’t know anything. Either way.”

“Yeah, but we know they weren’t doing good things here… and I’m here.”

“No, we don’t even know what they were doing here. Somebody made sure of that. Besides, you could’ve been scrubbing the floors for all we know. I don’t think you deserve the death sentence for that.”

“I doubt they had people scrubbing the floors…” You pointed out.

“I’m just saying, there’s other reasons you could’ve been here, Y/N.”

“Like… being experimented on.”

“I didn’t want to say anything.” His gaze and his tone softened. “Do you… You don’t remember anything like that, do you?”

“No, I don’t have any episodic memories before meeting you. But that’s what you were thinking, right? That I was either the experimenter or the subject?”

“You weren’t wearing a lab coat when we found you, and you don’t have a neural port.”

“Dejun doesn’t have a neural port, and he’s UHN.”

“We don’t know enough to think anything about anything, okay?”

“ZEN should be finished with synthesizing the Outspacer into his translation program by morning. We can go through the computer tomorrow,” you reiterated yours and the Professor’s report from the pre-mess meeting. “With any luck, there will be employee profiles.”

“And what will you be hoping to find in them?”

“The truth.” The med-pod clicked off then, and you reached out to grab the empty device. “Whatever that is.”

Kun sat up, keeping his eyes on you as you went to stand. Your task was done for the night, so was your time with him.

“Why do you seem so convinced that you were involved?” He questioned, drawing you back into conversation and stopping you from leaving entirely.

“I… know too much, Kun.” You shook your head. “Why do you seem so convinced that I wasn’t?”

“You said it yourself, Y/N. You can’t stand the thought of seeing anybody get hurt if you can do something about it. I find it hard to believe that you’d do something like… whatever what going on here.”

“Dejun said that humans can do really bad stuff if they think they’re doing the right thing. Even to each other. Maybe I just thought it was the right thing.”

“Maybe,” Kun shrugged. “Or maybe you didn’t do anything. What were you two talking about? When he said that.”

“Your skeletal enhancements,” you admitted.

“I see.”

“Do you know how much longer your mission here will be?” You asked. “When can you get your next adjustment? Dejun said it happens at UHN Main, so it’ll be when you drop me off after this, right?”

“No, I don’t know how much longer this mission will take,” he replied. “It depends on what you and ZEN find on that computer tomorrow. And yes, it’ll be at UHN Main.”

“Then ZEN and I will just have to be quick.”

“Don’t rush for my sake,” he warned, an edge to his voice. “We need to make sure we get everything from here. I can wait.”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “Fine. But I’m bringing two med-pods tomorrow, and you’re taking both of them, no complaints, no skipping. Understood?”

The corner of his lip twitched as he nodded. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Kun.”

And with that, you left his tent. Back in your own, you gave the med-pod back to Dejun, filling him in on Kun’s condition.

“It’s getting worse,” you told the doctor, keeping your voice hushed. “The medication wears off faster and isn’t as effective. I think he needs two.”

“Damn it…” He sighed, zipping the pack up. “Yeah, start taking two tomorrow. Stupid son of a bitch. I told him not to skip his last tune-up.”

“Do you have any idea how much longer he can go without one before… it gets worse?”

“No.” Dejun informed you shortly, running a hand through his hair. “No clue. This is the longest he’s missed one before.”

“Oh no…”

“Yeah. Like I said, stupid son of a bitch.”

“This mission… He really believes it’s that important? More than him? Than his health?”

“Yes,” he answered immediately. “The program he was in… Let’s say he didn’t just get some skeletal enhancements and cool armor. You should ask him about it.”

You were quiet, and Dejun plopped himself back down onto his cot. You silently put yourself to bed, staring up at the ceiling of the tent listlessly as Dejun put out the lamp, plunging you into the darkness of night.

Resting your cheek in the palm of your injured hand, you tapped the edge of the keyboard with your fingernail anxiously as you waited. ZEN had to break off another fragment with his new Outspacer translation update, then join those two fragments together once plugged into the computer. And of course, the fragment(s) in the computer were asynchronous with the one in the crew’s HUDs and the Professor’s tablet, so there was no way for you to get an update from the ZEN that could actually vocalize anything. The computer had no microphone or speakers that you could see, only the keyboard, mouse, and monitor in front of you. You couldn’t even see the end of where the wires led, the actual computer itself. ZEN was plugged into a docking station at the base of the monitor.

The entire crew was in the robotics lab. Some milling around behind where you were sat at the computer, a couple others looking at the defunct robots in the side room.

Yangyang walked up behind you, one of the schematics books in his hands again.

“I didn’t know you were ambidextrous,” he commented conversationally, his eyes on the pages.

“What?” You looked up at him questioningly.

“Your hand,” he gestured to the bandaged one, “You caught the knife with that one, but you’re using the computer with the other. I don’t think my first instinct would be to catch a flying knife with my non-dominant hand. Well, it wouldn’t be to catch it all, but still.”

You looked down at your hand that was hovering over the mouse. “Oh. I don’t know, I guess.”

“What do you make of this?” He pointed to a drawing.

“It… looks like a hand. A prosthetic?”

“There’s no indication of anything mechanical, why’d you jump to prosthetic?”

“You found it in a robotics lab. I didn’t think they’d be doing anatomy practice for fun.”

“Robot-people…” Ten muttered under his breath.

A small window popped up in the bottom right of the right then, a chat box.

ZEN: I’m ready.

Y/N: How are we dividing this?

ZEN: I can review data without interrupting you.

Y/N: I’ll start in the first folder, you start at the last, we’ll work our way towards the middle?

ZEN: I’ll let you know if I find anything of interest.

Clicking into the first folder, ‘Robotics,’ you skimmed through the subfolder options. They were mainly named with seemingly incomprehensible codes, combinations of glyphs and numbers that made no sense. You randomly clicked into the first one anyway, and were presented with more subfolders. These were simply labeled in trial phases and sub-phases: Phase 0.1, 0.1.2, 1.0, 1.3, 1.5, 2.0.3. You again clicked on the very first one, 0.1, and were greeted with nothing. It was empty, not a single file to actually review. You clicked back out and selected the next one, 0.1.2. Empty again. Narrowing your eyes at the display, you clicked on 1.0, hoping that they had just maybe moved all of those into the succeeding phase. Nothing.

Letting out a huff, you clicked back into the chat window.

Y/N: ZEN, do any of the folders I’m looking in actually have anything?

ZEN: No.

Y/N: In the entire Robotics folder?

ZEN: No data.

You groaned, going back out to the main menu.

“What?” Kun questioned as you clicked into ‘Synthetic Biology.’

“That folder was purged. It’s just empty subfolders,” you informed them with a sigh.

“What were the subfolders?” Yangyang asked with interest.

“The main branches were just random glyphs? And then each main folder had even more subfolders with phases.”

“Must have been project names. Maybe serial numbers?” The roboticist suggested. “Can you go back?”

You did as he asked. “Now what?”

“Just read the first one for me? The individual glyphs, not as a sentence.”

“Blue, red, add, inside-of, twelve hundred. As in the time, not one-thousand and two hundred.”

“Noon?”

“Well, yeah,” you nodded. “But I figure everyone used twenty-four-hour time around here, right?”

“What are you thinking, kid?” Kunhang asked knowingly.

“Assuming it’s meant to be read as noon, translated back out and using only the first letters… B-R-A-I-N. Brain.”

The Professor lit up at this. “A code within a code! What’s the next one?”

You read it off, “Cube, add, sun, inside-of, noon, green. Casing?”

“Positronic brain casing. Like the sketch!” Yangyang practically ran to get the other sketchbook. “That must have had the actually specs and computer modeling of it. These sketches are just conceptual.”

“It’s a robotics lab, it’s not a surprise that they would’ve had positronic brains here,” Dejun pointed out frankly.

“Keep going, Y/N, he hates fun,” Yangyang urged you on, the Professor right on your other side with his tablet.

You read out all of the glyphs, every so often needing input from the others to find a more colloquial synonym in standard human that would actually make a real word. By the time that you were done with all of the folders, ZEN had popped up in your chat window again.

ZEN: I believe I may have found something of interest.

Y/N: Can you display it?

ZEN: Certainly.

And seemingly on its own, the computer went into the Facility folder, then into one of the subfolders. Before you could even begin to work through the nonsense Outspacer code, ZEN had already translated it for you.

ZEN: Employee files, by department. The personnel files themselves are no longer in here, but the comms directory survived.

“ZEN found something,” you announced to the others. “Employee directory. He says the actual personnel files are gone, but the comms directory is here.”

“So we’ve got a partial list of who was here,” Kun surmised. “Whoever had their own extension, at least.”

ZEN brought it up for you, and you skimmed through the names quickly, looking only for one. When you got to the end, however, despite not having seen your own name there, you still couldn’t let out the breath you were holding. This was only a partial list, after all. You could’ve just as easily worked here and not had an extension on the comms directory.

“Are those… pager numbers?” Dejun asked, leaning in over your shoulder to squint at the screen suspiciously. “On the second page. The first page are all three-digit comms extensions, presumably department heads and general-use areas, but this looks like a list of individual pager numbers.”

“They don’t look different than any old phone numbers, why would they be pager numbers?” Kun asked.

“Well, cell phones are entirely outdated with interstellar travel, but in the medical field, we still use pagers for quick communication within facilities. It doesn’t get clogged up with everything that’s in a HUD, they’re a cheap and efficient way to get short bursts of information from person-to-person. Medical facilities will usually set up their own short-range tower that’s only used by pagers issued by that facility to providers,” he explained. “The only thing on this planet is this facility, pagers solve intra-facility communication issues, and prevent anything from being sent out. Nowadays, ships don’t have receivers to pick up this kind of signal, if they even got close enough. They’d only be able to send messages from pager-to-pager here.”

“Everyone can talk to each other, but can’t send information to outsiders,” the captain paraphrased.

“Hold on a second,” Kunhang announced before abruptly leaving the room.

Everyone watched the door after him in confusion, occasionally looking around to see if anybody else was going to do something. You assumed the others who still had their helmets on could see what he was doing in their HUDs, as a couple let out noises of disgust, then a few moments later Kunhang burst through the door. He was triumphantly holding up a small grey rectangle, no bigger than the palm of his hand.

“Here!” He thrust it out towards Dejun. “Is this a pager?”

“I could’ve told you that without you pulling it off a dead body…” The doctor sighed, removing his own helmet before taking the small device into his hands anyway. As he turned it over, you saw several dark splotches on it. “Yes, this is a pager. They probably gave one to everyone working here.”

Your eyes quickly went back to the screen, to reread the list more closely this time. Nothing, again.

You went back to the chat window.

Y/N: Have you found anything else? We got stuck back in Robotics.

ZEN: No data in Synthetic Biology, Administrative, and Support. Facility still has files in it.

Y/N: What else is in there besides the directory?

ZEN: Maintenance history, blueprints of the entire facility, emergency protocols.

Y/N: What sorts of emergencies?

ZEN: Fire, severe surface weather, emergent stratospheric weather, alien invasion, human invasion. I can’t translate the final one.

Y/N: Pull it up.

With the first page of the mystery emergency protocol on the screen, you immediately realized that this gibberish must be in the code again, and went back to read the title again.

“Sun, cube, red, under, blue, blue, inside-of, noon, green. Scrubbing?” You squinted at the screen. “There’s no way this is a cleaning manual…”

Y/N: Scrubbing? Does that make sense with the rest of the document?

ZEN: It does not contain instructions for cleaning.

Y/N: What is in it?

ZEN: I do not believe I was equipped with many of these glyphs, and my algorithm is having trouble extrapolating reasonable suggestions for them without enough contextual words.

Y/N: You really just have a bunch of grammar and mostly food vocabulary, not a full dictionary. It’s okay, I’ll skim.

“You’re typing a lot,” Yangyang observed. “Is scrubbing good? Bad? What’s happening?”

“ZEN found the emergency protocols. There’s the usual stuff, though the addition of a ‘human invasion’ protocol at this human research facility is rather interesting,” you informed the others, scrolling to the next page of the document. “There’s one that he couldn’t translate the name of, though. He doesn’t have enough vocabulary to make any sense of the inside, either.”

“Scrubbing,” Kunhang determined. “And you said it’s not for cleaning? Maybe it’s like a hazmat thing?”

“No…” You shook your head, looking over just the headers. “This is definitely about… computers? Wait, and fire….?”

“Data,” Kun interrupted. “It’s about purging all classified data from a facility, digital and physical. That’s what scrubbing is.”

You all looked at each other knowingly. It was Kun who said what everyone was thinking, however.

“The Skippers interrupted the facility before they could finish scrubbing. The question is why they started the scrub in the first place.”

“It says here only two people can order a… scrub.” You read off the protocol stiltedly. “The… Sorry, give me a second.”

“Are you okay?” Kun had made his way to the front of the group, next to the chair you were in.

You pushed the heel of your palm against the space between your brows, squeezing your eyes shut. “Yeah, fine. It keeps switching back and forth between normal Outspacer and that code, it’s giving me a headache to read.”

“They probably used the code whenever there wasn’t a good Outspacer approximate for the word they wanted to use,” the Professor suggested, his voice rising with excitement. “It’s like… a pidgin of Outspacer and standard human with sneaky intelligence code thrown in. God, this is so fascinating!”

“Can ZEN or the Professor do the code?” Kun grabbed your shoulder, gently turning you away from the computer.

“I’d love to take a crack at it!” The Professor rubbed his hands together excitedly.

You let Kun usher you to your feet, and the Professor hurriedly took your seat. Dejun met you and Kun at the back of the group, a frown on his features.

“How’s the pain? Same kind as before?” The doctor asked.

“Yeah, same pressure,” you confirmed, still holding your head. “Not as bad, though.”

“I keep telling you and everyone else that you need to let your brain rest. And what do you do? Teach an AI a dead alien language, decode ciphers in said dead alien language…”

“Right. Sorry…”

“You can’t give her anything?” Kun questioned. “At least for the headache? She’ll rest tomorrow.”

“I’m fine,” you insisted. “It’s already going away. Save your supplies.”

“Y/N—”

“I don’t really have anything for minor bumps on me,” Dejun interrupted before Kun could escalate your bickering. “That’s back on the Vision. Just took the essentials down.”

“Admiral!” The Professor yelled out enthusiastically. “Only the Admiral, and the… Research Director can order a scrub.”

“Is that all it says? Just Admiral? Not Rear Admiral, or Vice Admiral, or Fleet Admiral?” Kun questioned.

“The Admiral, or an Admiral?” You added.

The Professor looked back at the screen as if double-checking his work. “Definitely the Admiral. I’m assuming that would be whichever one was overseeing this facility? Doesn’t give a name. And it’s just Admiral. But there’s two kinds of scrubs, actually. A partial and a full scrub.”

“What’s the point of a partial scrub?” Ten asked. “Why would you destroy only some confidential stuff, but not all of it? Isn’t the point to leave nothing behind?”

“Don’t know, but the partial scrub protocol only has them spare one thing.”

“Must be pretty damn important,” Kunhang commented. “What is it? A port-drive or something?”

“I doubt many of the personnel here had neural ports,” Dejun said. “They were scientists. I’ve only seen a couple on bodies since we’ve been here, and they were clearly soldiers.”

“Well? Does it say?” Yangyang prompted the Professor.

“Yeah, but it’s about as helpful as ‘Admiral’ was,” he sighed. “‘Proof of concept.’ A partial scrub preserves the proof of concept, with some of its own security protocols in place.”

“Proof of what concept? We don’t even know what they were trying to do here,” Dejun scoffed, rubbing a hand over his face.

Yangyang seemed interested again, though. “The proof of concept has its own security protocols? Is there any indicator if they’re internal or external? Like if it’s locked up somewhere, or if it might be… programmed into the proof itself?”

“No, it doesn’t say,” the Professor answered.

“What are you thinking, Liu?” Kun prompted the younger man.

“If it’s some kind of… robot, then they could program whatever security protocols they needed into it to make it secure for this partial scrub, without completely destroying all their years of work. But if it was… biological, it would probably need some kind of external security to not only prevent the wrong people from finding it, but also stop it from uh, escaping…”

“And what if it was a person-robot?” Ten replied.

The roboticist shook his head. “They just say proof of concept. That’s usually not anywhere close to the final product. I can’t imagine they actually made a person-robot, whatever that entails. After all, the ag bubble was still set for humans when we got here. And proofs of concept aren’t meant to be a fleshed-out prototype of the final product, either. They’re just supposed to test one or two functions of it and be thrown away after.”

“But this one was worth risking a security breach over,” Kun pinched the bridge of his nose. “Professor, in the full scrub protocol, does it say when the proof would be destroyed? First? Last?”

“Uhm…” He went back to the screen, scrolling and squinting at it for a moment before answering. “First.”

That garnered a few groans from the soldiers around you, but you saw the Professor suddenly perk up as he continued through the document.

“What is it?” You asked. “Something else?”

“That’s not the only difference between a partial and full scrub. The order’s different. I guess since a full scrub is a little more scorched-Earth and a partial scrub has to leave at least some kind of either digital or physical infrastructure for the proof… I think we can figure out if they were doing a partial or full scrub before the Skippers got here.”

“What’s the difference?”

“There’s a lot of things that happen simultaneously, Robotics destroying digital data while SynthBio destroys physical specimens…” The Professor hummed as he continued skimming. “But in a full scrub, the entire facility would be burned at once. In a partial, they only have directions to burn certain areas: the two labs, the Research Director’s office, places like that.”

“So there’s no individual fires in the full scrub?” Kun clarified. “It would all go up at once?”

“Yeah, just one big boom at the end.”

You all looked at each other knowingly, then at Kun expectantly.

“So they were doing a partial scrub,” he declared. “Which means we need to find that proof of concept.”

“We don’t know what it could even be, what it looks like, if it’s physical or digital,” Ten pointed out.

“It’s the best lead we’ve got. Has anybody seen anything out of the ordinary?”

“Uh… Everything?” Kunhang said pointedly.

“Very helpful, Wong, thank you,” the captain retorted. “Come on, guys, anything?”

“Was there anything in that safe room with Y/N?” Yangyang offered. “When you found her? Only survivor… might’ve taken the proof into the safe room with her.”

Kun immediately shot it down, “No.”

“Wong?” Ten focused on the other Marine. “You might’ve had a better… perspective than the captain. You see anything in there?”

“I don’t remember seeing anything, no,” he shook his head. “But it can’t hurt looking a second time. We’re going to have to search the entire place anyway, right, Captain?”

“Yeah, top to bottom,” Kun confirmed shortly. “Again.”

“Yippee…” Ten grumbled.

“But I want that entire document translated first, and for us to finish going through all of the files,” he added sternly. “We need to know everything we can about what we’ll even be looking for before we searching.”

“ZEN and I will get right on it,” the Professor nodded.

“And the rest of us are just going to… watch him read?” Kunhang asked.

Kun took his helmet off and set it down on a nearby counter. “Afternoon off. Congrats, don’t kill yourselves.”

The others started celebrating, Kunhang, Ten, and Yangyang already launching into discussions of what they’d do with the free time as they headed towards the exit. They stopped at the door as they seemed to notice that you, Kun, and Dejun hadn’t moved.

“Hey, you guys coming?” Kunhang called out. “I don’t think the Professor needs you three watching over his shoulder.”

“I figured I’d stay, in case he needed any help,” you admitted.

“No,” Kun shook his head. “You’re going to rest. Doctor’s orders, remember?”

“I won’t be the one translating, just in case he hits a snag with a glyph or something,” you argued.

“He’s got ZEN. Two of him, technically. If he really needs you, he’ll let those at the ag bubble know and you can come back.”

You let up with a huff. “Fine. Are you coming then, Kun? You haven’t reached for your helmet.”

“I will.”

“So you get to stay but I don’t?”

“Yes. Because Xiao hasn’t said I need to rest my injured brain.”

“But you—” You bit your tongue before you could bring up his enhancements. He raised his eyebrows almost in a challenge, and you simply narrowed your eyes at him. “I will come looking for you if you’re not back at the ag bubble in an hour.”

“I get a whole hour? How gracious.”

As you went to join the other guys by the door, you saw that Dejun was still in the same place. “Dejun, come on, not you too?”

“I’ll be there in less than an hour, swear it. Just need to talk to the captain about something,” your tentmate reassured you. “I’ll be right behind you.”

“Stop worrying about them, Y/N,” Yangyang ushered you towards the door. “I told you, Xiao hates fun, and the captain’s a workaholic.”

“The river’s fine for swimming, right?” Kunhang questioned, pulling the door open.

“We’ve been drinking from it, I would hope so,” Ten snorted, following after him.

“No, I mean, there’s nothing living it, right?”

“If there was, don’t you think we would’ve had a smoked salmon dinner at this point?” Ten and Wong’s voices faded away as the door closed behind the four of them, leaving just the Professor, the two ZEN fragments, Xiao, and the captain.

“What do you need, Xiao?” The captain questioned, leaning against a countertop.

The Professor was utterly locked into his task at the moment, and Captain Qian was used to seeing the civvie in such a state. Practically impossible to disturb, even by his own normal bodily needs—sleep, food, hygiene, it would all go to the wayside if he was allowed. So really, it felt like it was just him and Xiao. And ZEN, of course, but the AI’s constant presence was an unspoken fact of their lives at this point, so ingrained that he accepted that there was pretty much no privacy from ZEN at the end of the day, only from the other humans aboard the mission. Which was interesting as to why Xiao had picked this moment to get such privacy.

“Your deal, with Y/N,” Xiao began frankly.

“What about it? I’m getting the injections, figured you’d be thrilled,” the captain replied with a tilted head.

“I’m trying to figure out what you actually get out of it, Captain,” the lieutenant wagged a finger at him. “Because Y/N gets to give you your injections, which was a concern of hers, not yours; she gets to leave the ag bubble; and you didn’t even make her promise not to catch knives with her bare hands anymore.”

“She does stuff like that without thinking, it would’ve been pointless to make her promise not to do it anymore.”

“Which makes her a liability, Captain.”

“She’s an asset,” Captain Qian retorted.

“Because she can read Outspacer? She’s already taught ZEN and the Professor,” Xiao gestured to the man still at the computer pointedly.

“They’re not fluent.”

“Barely. And anything they don’t know, they can bring back to her. Like you just suggested.”

After the Professor, Xiao was the team member that the captain had known for the longest, he could tell that the doctor was slowly circling his actual argument. “What is your point, Xiao?”

“Is she really more of an asset than a liability?”

“I can’t afford to have one of you on babysitting duty every day.”

“We can switch out. Morning and afternoon shifts.”

The captain arched an eyebrow curiously as he studied the other man. “I figured you would’ve been one of the last people to be doing this. I thought you liked Y/N.”

“I do, which is why I don’t want her to do something worse than cut her palm,” Xiao sighed.

“I don’t either, but she told me quite plainly that she won’t stop.”

Xiao looked like he was about to pull his hair out. “Captain, a civilian tells you in no uncertain terms that they will endanger themselves and your mission, and you strike a deal to continue letting them?”

“She’s not… It was a judgment call, Xiao,” he declared sharply.

“And I’m still thinking about what you get out of the deal…” The doctor was pacing now, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “Whenever she gets hurt, she has to go to you?”

Captain Qian shifted in place, stretching out his neck and crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m the Captain, you’re all my responsibility—”

“Injured people are my responsibility. What do you get out of patching up a civvie every time she hurts herself?” Xiao scoffed.

“I need to know how often she’s—”

“You like her,” Xiao breathed out in realization, coming to a stop.

“Excuse me?”

“That’s the only way for that stupid deal to make sense. You actually like her as a person instead of her just being some civvie that’s in the way of the mission. So she can leave the ag bubble, but you still want one of us with her for protection. And when she does stupid things—which you’re smiling about right now, you like that about her—” Xiao pointed to the faint smile on the captain’s face victoriously, “—you want to personally make sure she’s okay after.”

The captain had regained control of his features, staring at his teammate neutrally. “Are you done?”

“No denial?”

“I’m not going to engage with your baseless speculation,” Captain Qian replied, his voice sounding unnaturally tight. “So if that’s all, then you can go.”

“Didn’t really sound like a no to me.” The doctor was grinning now.

“That would imply that your theory was something worth denying. Which I’ve already established, it isn’t.”

“Oh my god, you’re an awful liar, Captain,” Xiao peered at him, delight on his own features. “At least about this, because I know you’re way better on missions.”

“Since you’ve forced my hand…” he sighed, Xiao leaning forward to listen eagerly. “You’re dismissed. Formally. Officially. Goodbye.”

Xiao chuckled as he hoisted his own helmet back up and onto his head, meandering towards the exit. “Alright, alright. See you in a few, Captain.”

And that just left him, the ZENs, and the Professor. The captain rubbed his face with exasperation, turning his focus back towards the computer screen. The utter silence that he had been hoping for was short-lived, however.

“So… Y/N, huh?” The Professor asked, and despite the fact that his back was still to him, Captain Qian could hear the grin in his voice.

“Aren’t you supposed to be translating?” He snapped.

“I can multi-task.”

“And be slower than if you didn’t. So focus.”

You were sat by the riverside, dangling your feet into the cool water as Ten, Kunhang, and Yangyang all swam around. Dejun had come back some time ago, alone, and was sitting next to you as he continued reading On the Ethics of Robotics. You were straining your ears as you listened for the sound of the door of the ag bubble to open, occasionally looking over your shoulder at it.

“He’ll be here, Y/N,” Dejun stated after the fourth time you had glanced at the door. He hadn’t looked up from the text, but apparently could read your mind.

“It’s been fifty-two minutes,” you replied derisively. “According to Yangyang, he’s a workaholic, and according to you, he’s a stubborn, bad patient. Excuse me for doubting that he’ll be eagerly participating in taking an afternoon off. Especially when some of his crew is still working.”

“That’s all true. But you forgot one crucial part.”

“And what is that?”

Dejun flipped a page. “He told you he would.”

“He said he’d be here, at some point in time. I’m the one who put the hour-limit on him, which he didn’t exactly agree to.”

“And yet, he didn’t tell you no, either.” Your companion said, the corner of his mouth twitching, as if he found something amusing. You doubted there was anything in that treatise that was exceptionally humorous. “He’ll be here, Y/N.”

“Can I ask what you needed to talk to him about?”

“You can ask. But that’s a different question than if I’ll answer.”

“I just… wanted to know if it’s about—” You looked at the other three, thoroughly engrossed with trying to splash and dunk each other in ways that were definitely unfair to poor Yangyang, who lacked anywhere near the same combat experience that Ten and Kunhang had. You leaned over to whisper to Dejun, “—the enhancements. If he’s okay.”

Dejun let out a chuckle, as if any of this were funny. “No, it wasn’t about that. He’s quite alright.”

You were able to relax a little with this confirmation. “Okay. Thank you.”

“How’s your hand, by the way?”

“Oh, it’s fine. I don’t even think about it,” you said, flexing your injured palm. “Doesn’t hurt.”

“Good. You should ask Captain Qian to change your bandage tonight.”

You looked at the doctor next to you with confusion. “Why…? But you’re… You were just ranting about how you’re the doctor here, not him.”

“Like you said, it’s just a cut. Don’t need an MD to change a bandage. Captain’s perfectly capable for something like that.”

“I suppose. But what’s with the change of heart of all of a sudden?”

“I have a feeling he’ll want to check on you personally, even if I were to change your bandage now. No point in changing it just for him to reapply a fresh one in a couple more hours anyway.”

It was then that you heard the front door to the ag bubble open, and you snapped your head around to look. You immediately recognized Kun by his gait, before he even took his helmet off.

“Fifty-four minutes…” You muttered to yourself.

“Told you,” Dejun said in a sing-song voice.

You continued watching as Kun disappeared into his tent, zipping it shut behind him. After a couple minutes, he reemerged, out of his armor and in his usual casual clothes. Instead of joining you and the others by the riverside, you frowned as you watched him take off on the trails between the crops, in the opposite direction from you all.

With a frown, you scrambled to your feet, giving the doctor a distracted goodbye as you went off after Kun. It didn’t take you very long to catch up to him as you cut through the grass as you made a beeline towards him.

“Hey,” you called out when you got close enough to him.

“Hey,” he replied over his shoulder, not slowing down or stopping for you.

“What are you doing?”

“Going on a walk.”

“Can I— Can I walk with you?”

He abruptly stopped and pivoted on his heel, turning to you curiously. You skidded to a stop in front of him.

“Why do you want to?” He questioned.

“So you don’t have to answer that question, but I do?”

“Just curious.” He shrugged, then jerked his head in invitation before he started walking again. “I won’t make you answer. It would be a bit hypocritical of me.”

“So how’s it going? The translation?” You easily kept up with his much more meandering pace now.

“The Professor seemed to be enjoying himself.”

“Anything useful? About what the proof of concept is? Or otherwise?”

“Not that he said. But he’s not very talkative when he gets like that.”

“Oh, okay.”

After a few moments of silence, Kun spoke again, “I’m sorry about this morning. It was… I had no good reason to not answer your perfectly reasonable question. I was just caught off-guard. I shouldn’t have been so abrasive about it.”

“Well, thank you. For apologizing.”

“The truth is, I don’t know why I wanted to walk with you. It wasn’t any sort of suspicion, I just saw you going and wanted to go with you. Nothing more.”

“Oh.” You looked down at your feet, once again struggling to not let it immediately go to your head. “I can understand that. When I saw you start walking, I wanted to go too.”

He smiled in just the slightest. “And here we are.”

“Would you mind telling me more about Dura-Jil?” You asked hesitantly.

“Why are you so curious about Dura-Jil?”

“I suppose… I’m curious about you. And where you came from,” you admitted quietly. “And you talk about it so fondly, it’s nice to see you not stressing about what’s going on right now.”

“You know, this really isn’t fair,” he shook his head with a chuckle. “You can ask me all sorts of stuff, but you never have to tell me any embarrassing childhood stories.”

“I didn’t ask specifically for embarrassing ones!” You protested. “And I would tell you if I could remember!”

“That’s okay, I’ll supply the nostalgia for now.” Kun looked up ahead, eyes seemingly focused on one area in particular. “We had to get all of our food imported from Earth. We had no farms, no ag bubbles, nothing. That was the first thing smuggled in, really. Food. Specialty stuff, higher-quality stuff than what was usually imported. I still remember the first time I had a strawberry.”

It was then that you saw what he was looking at, a strawberry field that was growing closer and closer.

“I… don’t remember ever having a strawberry,” you stated. “How old were you? The first time you had a strawberry?”

“The actual fruit, nine or ten. I’m pretty sure we’d gotten our hands on strawberry jam before that, though.” He stopped at the edge of the field, the plants nearby all dotted with bright red fruit. “My mom tried growing her own plant from some of the seeds, but as soon as she had to move the seedling outdoors, the climate froze it dead.”

Kun deftly plucked a handful of strawberries off the plant, and offered the gleaming rubies out towards you. You accepted one, then he took one into his other hand by the leaves, bringing it up to his mouth. You followed his lead, taking a bite. The bright, tart, sweetness was a pleasant surprise, and you decided that you quite liked strawberries, too.

“Ooh, that’s good,” Kun commented, dropping the uneaten leaves back onto the soil. “My dad built my mom a greenhouse, a small one, in our backyard. Took a little figuring out, but she could finally garden.”

“That’s really sweet of him,” you said, taking another strawberry as it was offered to you.

“Yeah, whenever I think about what love is, I think about that.”

You bit into the strawberry, looking at him curiously as he took another handful of strawberries off the plant. “How often are you contemplating what love is?”

He once again held his hand out for you to pick from first, then grabbed one of his own. “Comes and goes. Not often, as of late.”

“Been focused on the mission?”

“Trying.”

At that cryptic answer, you decided to try another question, “Do your parents still live on Dura-Jil?”

Kun once again dropped his discarded leaves into the soil, this time nudging some dirt over them with the toe of his boot. “They’re dead.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” You bit your lip, wanting to kick yourself.

“It’s okay, you didn’t know.”

“For that, yes. But I’m also just… sorry. For your loss.”

“Even if you don’t get your memories back, I’ll make sure we do everything we can to get you back to… whoever’s missing you. Your family, your friends,” he said strongly, clasping his hands behind his back.

You looked up ahead, at the far end of the strawberry patch. “What if… What if it turns out that I don’t have anyone? That nobody’s waiting for me?”

“There will be somebody,” Kun assured you. “People like you don’t disappear unnoticed.”

“People like me?” You echoed curiously.

He started down the trail again, and you followed. “I didn’t see your name, on the directory.”

“So you were looking too,” you sighed, accepting the change in topic. It was something that had been nagging at you as well.

“You almost sound disappointed.”

“I just want answers. Good or bad,” you groaned. “All we know is that I didn’t have a personal comms extension, and didn’t have a pager.”

“Xiao said they would’ve given every employee a pager,” he reminded you gently.

“All we have is a lack of evidence of me being an employee. That doesn’t equal proof that I was… something else.”

He shook his head. “I don’t think we’re ever going to find proof of anything.”

“That’s my fear as well.”

“With no intent to stress your brain… Nothing feels any more familiar than the first day?”

“No. I mean, there’s the stuff I remember from, you know, the past few days. But nothing feels even vaguely familiar. No déjà vu, nothing.” You inhaled deeply. “I either know something or I don’t. There’s no grey area.”

“That must be terrifying.”

“I was shook up that first day, yeah. But right now I’m less concerned with the past and more with the future. You know, what I’m going to do from here.”

“I told you, we’ll help you.”

“I know, you said the UHN has programs—”

“No, we’ll help you, Y/N. We’re not going to just to abandon you as soon as we get back to Earth. Not until we know you’re good.”

“Thanks, Kun.” You offered him a genuine smile. “I… I guess I’m just worried about what to do. Who I want to be. I don’t really know if you guys can help much with that. I think that part’s on me.”

“Do you think you know everything about me and the kind of person I am?”

“Uhm, no?”

“You’ve only known yourself for as long as you’ve known me. You can’t expect to know exactly who you are yet. Or anytime soon.”

“Thank you.” You watched as Kun rolled out one of his shoulders uncomfortably, clearly trying to readjust something in his back. You furrowed your brows with concern; it seemed as though the injection from last night was starting to wear off. “How’s the pain?”

“Manageable,” he replied briskly, face relaxing again. But you knew it was practiced, rehearsed—a cover.

“Kun.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“I wish you’d be kinder to yourself,” you sighed. “Honestly, this tough guy thing you think you have to do, it’s just… pathetic.”

He slowed your walk to a stop, eyes widened minutely as he blinked at you. “You really think I’m pathetic?”

“A soldier who won’t ask for help when they need it isn’t brave, they’re reckless and stupid,” you said frankly. “And yes, I think this entire charade you do when you’re hurting is pathetic. Pain has never made anyone stronger, healing it does. I don’t know if you think it’ll make you look weak to your crew, or that you don’t deserve to feel better, or if it’s something else—but you don’t have to do all this around me.”

There was a stretch of silence as he took a steady inhale, and you met his gaze unwaveringly. Kun looked down at the ground, then back up at you. There was a slight wince on his face, and you were unsure if it was from pain, shame, or perhaps both. “Do you mind if we sat? My back…”

“Of course, Kun.” You nodded, letting him lead the way over to a grassy patch under a tree in a nearby orchard.

Kun let out a soft but noticeable, appreciative groan as he sat down. Looking up above you two, you spotted oranges among the green foliage along the branches.

“Do you know why there’s no clouds?” He questioned. “In the ag bubble? It’s a pocket dimension; I figure between the plants and the river, the water cycle should still be working.”

“Well there’s no Sun, so that’s a big piece of the water cycle missing,” you pointed out humorously. “Ag bubbles carefully regulate the atmosphere, including the water vapor. Since the fields self-water depending on the needs on the individual crops, it’d be a little inconvenient for it to also rain.”

“And it’s a perfect, mild spring day every day.”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “It is.”

“I know the guys are glad to stretch their legs without getting shot at. The Vision is a bit cramped, and we’re only off it for missions.”

“Sounds like an eventful deployment so far.”

“Very.”

You looked over at Kun leaning back against the trunk, his eyes closed for a moment. A soft breeze kicked up a few strands of his dark brown hair. You didn’t think you’d even seen him so relaxed, and you found yourself strangely happy that he felt like he could rest like this around you, even if it was partially coerced.

“Why did you join the UHN?” You asked, unable to contain your curiosity about him as usual.

“Hm?” He made a questioning noise, raising his eyebrows without opening his eyes.

“Why did you leave Dura-Jil and join the UHN?”

“Wanted to help Earth and humanity. Stars in my eyes, you know?”

You tilted your head curiously. “People from the colonies aren’t exceptionally fond of Earth. Especially those who had never even been there, and especially ones from Dura-Jil. Why would you want to fight for a planet you had never seen?”

He chuckled, and you got the distinct feeling that you weren’t in on the joke. “I—” He cut himself off, eyes opening as he sat up straight, gaze landing sharply on a spot in the distance as he seemed to be listening for something you couldn’t hear. “Okay. Yeah, got it, Professor. We’ll see you in a few.”

“Is everything okay?” You questioned, watching as Kun went to stand.

“The Professor and ZEN have hit a snag in the translation. It’s too much to bring back on the tablet, so come on, we’re heading back out.”

You stood as well, but didn’t follow him as he turned to go. He stopped and turned back to look at you, but whatever question he was about to ask you got cut short as he twisted in such a way that made him wince.

“You should rest, Kun.” You crossed your arms. “One of the others can go with me.”

He took a deep breath, then nodded. “See if Xiao can go. The others were swimming, it’ll take them longer to get back into their armor.”

“Got it. You go rest. I’ll bring you mess along with the med-pods tonight.”

“I can’t be lazing in my tent all day and have food delivered to me,” he snorted. “The crew will think I’m on my deathbed.”

“You could tell them what’s going on. Would that be the heat death of the Universe?”

“No, but—”

“If one of your crew was injured, would you want them to be doing what you’re doing right now? Leaving you in the dark? Refusing rest and treatment?” You asked steadily. “Or would you call them an idiot and send them to their tent?”

“You’ve called me pathetic and an idiot in less than ten minutes, you know?”

“I’ll call you a pathetic idiot if that’ll convince you to go lay down.”

Kun’s eyes crinkled as he laughed, hard. When he’d caught his breath, he held his hands up in surrender. “Alright, alright, I get it. I’ll go rest for a bit.”

The two of you finally started walking back towards the camp, soon coming upon the others still hanging out by the water. Kun lifted a hand in farewell to you and casual greeting to his crew as he kept walking, and you watched him until he eventually disappeared into his tent.

“Y/N!” Kunhang called from the water.

“Yeah?” You replied, not bothering to sit or get comfortable.

“What was so funny?” He paddled closer to the edge you were standing at. “We’ve never heard the captain laugh like that.”

“Oh, uh, I called him a pathetic idiot,” you said with a shrug.

Everyone’s heads whipped around to look at you. Ten then turned a mischievous grin on Yangyang. “You’ve got to try that.”

“My parents paid good money for braces for me as a kid, I’m not going to disrespect their investment,” Yangyang retorted.

As the three in the water began bickering and teasing and taunting each other again, you turned your focus down to the doctor still on the shore. “Professor and ZEN need some help. You mind going with me, Dejun?”

“Sure.” Dejun snapped his book shut. “Give me a second to put my armor back on. Then you can tell me how you got away with insulting the captain to his face.”

That night, everyone was back at camp. The Professor was still messing around with a few series of glyphs on his tablet that he wanted to try on his own before letting you reveal the translation to him. The document on scrubbing was fully translated, and the ZEN fragment in the facility computer would continue going through the remaining files through the night. The scrubbing procedures didn’t really have any extra clues about the proof of concept that you could decipher, but it was worth a shot.

As the Professor tried out the glyphs, Yangyang and Dejun seemed to be discussing the book that the doctor had been borrowing from the younger man, as Dejun held it in his hand and they had a rather impassioned conversation in one corner of camp. You, Ten, and Kunhang were cooking dinner. And by that, you mean Ten and Kunhang were cooking dinner and you were watching them, as they had officially banned you from being near sharp objects while your hand healed. And you noticed that Ten was the one cutting ingredients tonight, not Kunhang.

“So why is there no meat here?” Kunhang asked you. “Ag bubbles can keep livestock too. Why not here?”

“I… don’t know,” you confessed. “I mean, technically ag bubbles don’t need to have livestock, since the crops can be modified to meet all nutritional requirements without the need for meat. Preference?”

“You think the Research Director was a vegan or something?”

Ten snorted incredulously as soon as the words were out of his teammate’s mouth. “Anybody who can do… whatever the hell what happening here also being a vegan would be painfully ironic.”

You felt a pit grow in your stomach as you remembered the conversation you’d overheard just yesterday morning. Impulsively, you looked down at your own hands, as if expecting to see them literally covered in blood, any sort of evidence of the sins they think you might have committed. You must have committed.

“How’s your hand?” Ten asked, clearly having seen the motion.

“It’s fine,” you brushed it off, putting both your appendages down and looking back up at the two Marines. “Do you guys think I worked here?”

Kunhang at least seemed a bit taken aback by the question, looking at Ten awkwardly for some kind of cue, as his buddy raised an eyebrow at you curiously.

“Do you think you worked here?”

“I-I don’t know. Nothing’s familiar.”

“We don’t have any proof you did anything, Y/N,” Ten said plainly. “All we know is that you were here when we got here. You’re not wearing a lab coat, you don’t have a neural port, you apparently didn’t have a pager.”

Kunhang picked up from Ten’s implicit conclusion, “You’ve been pretty cool since we found you. I think if you did work here, you’d be a lot more stuck up. Never met a UHN scientist without a bit of an ego.”

“And by ego, you mean God complex.”

“That too.”

You smiled faintly at their assessment. “Thanks. I don’t know how much of this is me or the amnesia, but…”

“It’s you now,” Ten shrugged.

“Soup’s on!” Kunhang suddenly announced to the entire camp.

As servings started being passed out to everyone who had swarmed the station, you accepted one as it was handed to you, then there was one dish left. The others looked around with confusion, realizing exactly who was missing as all their gazes turned in the direction of Kun’s tent.

“Is the captain… napping?” Kunhang hazarded a guess.

“No way that man takes naps,” Yangyang shook his head furiously. “Maybe he didn’t hear you? ZEN? Did you accidentally isolate his comms?” And almost immediately, followed it up with, “Oh my god, of course, my bad, I’m sorry. You would never make a mistake like that, you’re in Kunhang’s neural port, you know exactly who he wants to be talking to.”

“Is he okay?” The Professor asked aloud as well, presumably to ZEN, the only one of you who would have real-time information on that sort of thing. “Oh. Well should we… go get him?”

You picked up the extra bowl. “I’ve got it.”

Without another word, you headed off towards Kun’s tent. The front flap was down, but unzipped, and you stopped just outside to call out to him.

“Kun? Can I come in?” You requested.

“Yeah.” Came his short reply.

You ducked your head as you stepped in, careful to shield the food from the tarp as you entered. You had already grabbed the disinfecting wipe two med-pods from Dejun before starting the food prep with Ten and Kunhang, so you wouldn’t need to duck back out for those. Kun was laying on his back on his cot, which you were honestly surprised about. He started slowly sitting up as you approached, and once he seemed settled, you handed his food to him, then pulled up your usual container seat.

“Thank you,” he said, leaning his elbows on his knees.

“Did you actually stay in here the whole time?” You inquired, picking up your first bite on your utensil. “While I was gone?”

“I felt like I was going crazy, but yes.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle. “You should borrow Yangyang’s book next. Dejun seems to be enjoying it.”

“His robotics textbook?” Kun clarified doubtfully.

“It’s on roboethics. And what else are you going to do?”

“Good point.” He ran a hand through his hair. “But hopefully, I won’t have civvie-mandated bed rest again and need entertainment.”

“Depends on how you do with two med-pods, and how soon you get tuned up.” You pointed your utensil at him accusatorily. “You should rest while you can. You’ll be useless to your crew if you’re in even worse shape somewhere more dangerous than here.”

“Noted. So you, ZEN, and the Professor are almost done with the scrubbing protocol?”

“Technically, we’re done. But it was so close to mess that the Professor asked if I could let him try some of the last sections by himself tonight before giving him the real translation in the morning.”

“Anything useful for searching for the proof of concept?”

“Not that I could tell,” you sighed. “It just kept talking about preserving it, nothing about if that was in a physical location, or digital. And Yangyang said that a proof of concept could be proving any tiny facet of the final product, so we have no clue what this thing could be. Could be a single circuit for all we know.”

“It’d be something groundbreaking. Something worth risking a security breach.”

“And what does groundbreaking look like, exactly?”

“Yeah, that’s the problem, huh?”

“Mm-hm.” You had finished your food, and set it aside as Kun had a couple more bites left of his. “I think the organic material that Dejun found will be interesting, once he can analyze it on the Vision.”

“If there’s enough,” Kun added, also putting his empty plate down.

You started reaching into your pockets for your supplies, “Lie down.”

He reached for your bandaged hand. “Let me see your hand.”

You held it away from him. “Your injections—”

“I’m not avoiding,” he promised. “I’ll take care of you, then you can take care of me, okay?”

After a beat, you relented. “Alright.”

Kun began unwrapping the bandages as precisely as he had wound them in the first place, slowly revealing the gauze underneath. He left that as he reached over to grab his canteen, preparing to rinse the cut again. As he peeled the gauze off, you saw his eyes widen as you felt your own take it in as well. The gauze itself was stained with dark red blood, but your skin was fully mended, no open wound, no scabbing, not even a scar.

“What the fuck?” He breathed out, pure bewilderment in his tone.

You weren’t sure what to say, well aware that wasn’t supposed to happen. “Uh—”

“Wiggle your fingers,” he instructed, and you did so. “Does that hurt?”

“No.” It felt normal, no pain, no residual issues from having a knife go into the skin and muscle.

“Make a fist.”

You curled your fingers into a loose fist, then a tighter one when you realized it didn’t hurt.

“That hurt?” Kun asked again.

“No.”

He took your hand, pressing one of his thumbs into your previously-injured palm, hard. “That?”

“Nothing. It… It feels fine.”

He let you go, still looking down at your hand that you were hovering in between the two of you, unsure. “Maybe you’re part-Phaser?”

“My eyes aren’t silver, are they?” You moved your gaze up to his questioningly. “I feel like you guys would’ve mentioned that…”

“No, they’re not.” He shook his head. “Maybe it’s like… your great-grandma was a Phaser or something.”

“…I don’t know.”

“I’m going to wrap this up again,” Kun declared, grabbing a fresh piece of gauze and bandage.

“Why?”

His brow was set, face serious and tone level as he addressed you, “This is between us, do you understand?”

“I… Okay.” You nodded, swallowing down all your questions, most of which Kun couldn’t even answer. “Thank you.”

After Kun had finished bandaging up your perfectly fine palm, he dutifully laid back down, this time on his front, for you to administer the first of the med-pods. As you disinfected the injection site, you once again felt a strange sense of urgency to talk to him as much as you could, ask him as many questions as possible while you had this uninterrupted, strangely personal-feeling time with him.

“Do you like me?”

Kun immediately shot up to his elbows, and you could see the muscles in his back tense with the movement then stay tensed. “ZEN, stop eavesdropping.” A moment later, he looked upwards as he rolled his eyes at nothing. “Yeah, I know you’re in my neural port, don’t make me take you out of there. I said blackout my mic, including to you.”

You looked at him with mild alarm. You’d never been entirely alone with any crew member of the Vision, you knew that ZEN was always there, and knowing that it now really was just you and Kun only added to the odd feeling of intimacy you had about the situation.

He now turned his focus to you, looking at you over his shoulder. “Excuse me?”

“Like, as a person?” You tacked on some clarification. “I’m still trying to figure out who I am, and the others have said stuff like that—”

“Like what, exactly?”

“That they like having me around, or consider me a friend of some sort. I don’t know, I’m trying to figure out if I’m likeable.”

“Word of advice, Y/N.” He settled back down. “Don’t try to define yourself by how other people think of you. It’s never going to end well.”

“I’ll… take that under advisement, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

“You didn’t answer my question.” You positioned the first med pod.

“Does it matter?”

“Not for that, no.”

“For something else?”

You clicked the button, beginning the first injection. “Your refusal to answer is rather frustrating.”

“Your insistence that I answer is fascinating.”

“I’m getting a strange sense of déjà vu right now…” You snorted, thinking about your pointless little argument over him wanting to walk with you.

“You questioned my motives for wanting to walk with you, I’m questioning yours for asking me that question. Is that unfair?”

“I only know six people. Seven including ZEN,” you pointed out frankly. “So excuse me for maybe being a little nervous about whether or not those six people dislike me.”

He paused for too long to be comfortable before answering. “No, I don’t dislike you.”

“Not an affirmative.”

“Y/N, you’re afraid that I’m being polite? That I’ve just been tolerating you this whole time?”

“Yes, I suppose.”

“Do I seem like a man who would waste so much of my time on niceties?”

“Well… no.”

“There you go. Seven out of seven, congrats,” he said dryly.

“ZEN likes me?” You couldn’t help but smile to yourself as you took the now-empty med pod off his back and grabbed the next one.

“He can’t hear us right now, but if he could, he’d agree with me.”

“Thanks, Kun.”

“I don’t know what that says for your general likeability that all of us like you, though.”

“That’s alright. You’re the only seven people I know.”

The next morning, everyone split up to look for the proof of concept. Just as you’d thought, the rest of the manual had given no more clues to its whereabouts, form, or purpose, and ZEN hadn’t found any new information in the computer to assist you either.

You were with Kun and Ten in the employee quarters, searching every nook and cranny you could for anything that seemed to be of importance. Either a fair amount of stuff had already been removed, or the employees didn’t have very many personal belongings to begin with. Often, you could only tell if someone had been living in a room if something was slightly askew, a bedsheet out of place, desk chair not pushed in all the way, lamp light left on. There was no personal memorabilia like pictures or knickknacks in any of the rooms you searched through, and you wondered to yourself if they had no family to bring a picture of, or if they couldn’t for some reason. The barren, muted grey walls were discouraging, but you still kept a secondary search going in the back of your mind, waiting to see if anything would spark some familiarity. If you could find your own quarters, maybe.

As you looked under someone’s bed, Kun went through the small dresser, and Ten rummaged around in their desk. The staff sergeant let out an incredulous noise, making you look over at him as he held up a small paperback book for you and Kun to see.

“Frankenstein,” he announced. “Bit on the nose, isn’t it?”

“Do you not like robots, Ten?” You asked curiously as he tossed the book onto the desk and went back to searching.

“Robots are fine, AI is fine. I don’t like the idea of people-robots,” he clarified. “I like all of those things—robots, AI, humans—to be very distinct from each other. Instead of worrying about turning into Victor Frankenstein, I think humanity should be worrying about turning into Icarus.”

“Icarus?”

“Old myth from an ancient Earth civilization. Icarus was a human who had wax wings built for him. He flew too close to the Sun, they melted, and he fell into the sea and died. It’s a lesson about hubris.”

“Unless they hollowed out the book to hide something in there, I don’t really care,” Kun interrupted sternly.

“No, I’ve got nothing,” Ten responded.

“Me too,” you sighed, standing back up.

“Next room, then,” Kun declared with little fanfare.

At camp that afternoon, the three teams had comparable results: Nothing. No proof of concept, or anything more interesting than the random book Ten had found.

The Professor, Yangyang, and ZEN were finishing up the secondary task you all had for today, marking off the dead employees from the comms directory, and the rest of you started on your evening chores.

“Done!” The Professor announced, drawing in the rest of the crew to gather around. “And uh, Y/N isn’t the only survivor.”

Nervous murmurs erupted around you, and you started at the Professor with wide eyes.

“W-Who?” You stammered out, your mind racing immediately.

“The Research Director, Dr. Yoon. He’s not here. Everyone else on the directory is accounted for, and we have no unidentified humans.”

“What do we know about him?” Ten addressed the group as a whole.

“Not much,” Yangyang spoke up. “Civilian only on technicality. He’s worked for the UHN for the past 40 years as a researcher. Everything else on him is classified since ZEN’s fragment has a lower clearance by default.”

“If he was here, then whatever he was doing was much worse than the rumors,” Kun interjected coarsely, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You know this guy?” The roboticist asked him, clearly surprised.

“Heard of him. At the UHN from other officers. I thought he was… retired. I suppose a guy like that couldn’t ever retire, though.”

“UHN probably told everyone he retired so they could send him out here for this super secret, super illegal experiment,” Ten suggested.

“Yeah, probably,” Kun agreed, his voice still short as his face didn’t lose the troubled look that had overtaken it since the Professor stood up.

“Don’t feel too bad, Captain, you probably weren’t even a Lieutenant back then, and it would’ve been need to know. Way above your head at the time,” Kunhang said, going to pat him on the shoulder, but one hard gaze from the captain stopped his hand in midair.

“We’re done here,” Kun declared, stepping back from the group.

“Alright, cool, before we break, what’s the plan for tomorrow?” Kunhang questioned.

“I mean we’re done here. On Aegeum. We’ve gotten everything we need. Be ready to leave the surface after mess tomorrow morning,” he turned away sharply.

Ten called after him, “Wait, Cap—”

“Dismissed.” Kun tossed back over his shoulder, taking off from camp with a fast stride.

“And he’s gone.” Ten sighed, then looked around at all of you, who were equally dumbfounded. “What the hell?”

You were still watching after Kun’s quickly retreating figure as the others erupted into uncertain chatter. Some were still discussing the other survivor, while others were elatedly discussing finally getting off of Aegeum and where they’d go next.

“Sorry, excuse me, guys,” you excused yourself hastily, rushing off in the direction you saw Kun go.

You found him by the river, on a rockier patch of shoreline. He threw a rock at an angle towards the water, the stone immediately breaking the surface and sinking. The captain silently picked up another, casting it harshly into the river.

You stopped a fair distance away as you hesitantly called out, “Kun?”

“Yes?” He didn’t look back at you, just picked up another rock.

“Do you want to be alone?”

Another throw, plop, and sink. “You can stay.”

“Thanks.” You approached, keeping some space between you. “Who is Dr. Yoon, really?”

He turned over the rock in his hand before sharply throwing it at the water, creating a spray around it as it violently broke the surface on its way under. “He was the head of the program I was put in, at the UHN.”

“With the skeletal enhancements.”

“I thought he was dead. He was supposed to be dead.”

“How… did he supposedly die?”

“Skipper raid on the facility he was working at. Entire building was destroyed. No survivors.” He stated, though his voice was hard. “Or so I thought. I should’ve known the Devil wouldn’t have gone like that.”

“But somehow he ended up here.”

“Yeah…” He replied bitterly. Grabbing another stone, he motioned you closer. “Come here.”

“Huh?” You stayed in place as you tried to comprehend the sudden shift in conversation.

“I’m going to teach you how to skip a rock.”

“No offense, but you haven’t actually skipped a single rock while we’ve been standing here.”

“Trust me.”

“How do you know I don’t already know how to skip a rock?”

“How do you know that you do?” He replied with an eyebrow arched.

“…Alright, teach me how to skip rocks,” you relented, stepping towards him.

Kun stood behind you as you took the rock in your own hand.

“Okay, so first, you want to hold it like this.” He used both of his hands to readjust the positioning of your hand and fingers on the stone. “And you’ve got to stand like this.” He made some minute corrections to the alignment of your shoulders, hips, and arm holding the rock. Then, his hand was wrapping around the back of yours that held the rock, gently guiding it through a demonstration of the throw arc. “And you want to kind of swing, flick, release it out there, and follow through.”

“And are all of your rock skipping lessons this… interactive?” You questioned, turning your head towards the side where he was looking over your shoulder.

“Are you going to do it?” He asked, returning your slight teasing tone.

You wound your arm back, then did just as he’d shown you, swing, flick, release, and follow through. The rock skipped across the surface three times before sinking.

“Huh. You’re a pretty good teacher, Kun.”

“And here you were just questioning my methods.”

“Not their efficacy, just how often you implement them.” You looked back at him again, where he hadn’t moved from his instructional position. You hadn’t been close to the captain like this before, but you didn’t really mind.

“You’re a special case,” he murmured, meeting your gaze steadily. You found yourself holding your breath, watching as his eyes flicked down, then he suddenly stepped back.

Your back felt oddly cool as you turned to face him. Scrambling for another topic, you found yourself thinking about what else he had said at the very short status meeting. “So tomorrow we leave.”

“I want you to stay with us,” he said, taking you by surprise. “We don’t know enough about what was going on here, and with Dr. Yoon in the wind… We can’t—I can’t just leave you on Earth alone.”

“We’ve never known what was going on here, and you had never mentioned not taking me to UHN Main,” you pointed out calmly. “It’s Dr. Yoon, isn’t it?”

“The program I was in wasn’t just some skeletal enhancements and nice armor,” he admitted, sitting in the neighboring grass just a couple steps away.

“What else…?” You followed, sitting down next to him.

“I left Dura-Jil when I was fifteen, for the program.”

“You can’t enlist until you’re eighteen.”

“Didn’t enlist, I was selected, along with a bunch of others.” He said the word ‘selected’ with a hint of irony. “I was one of the oldest. We were supposed to save humanity, after some training, and a few… modifications. My age was probably why my body had a harder time acclimating to the modifications. I could only take the first round of skeletal enhancements, brainstem neural port, and cardiopulmonary augmentation.” He turned his head and parted some of his hair, letting you see the small port at the base of his skull. “Neural ports aren’t unheard of at the UHN—Wong and Ten have them, but theirs are situated higher up, since implantation in the brainstem is much riskier. But we had a special purpose, and they needed access to the brainstem for ours. It was the second round of skeletal enhancements that almost crippled me.”

“Almost?” You echoed, thinking of how well he seemed, aside from the degradation of his skeletal enhancements.

“Most of us who didn’t make it through either died or were beyond repair. Admiral Lee picked me back up, put me back together, and let me enroll in the Academy to join as an officer.”

“As in… Admiral Lee, the head of Intelligence?”

“Yes. Though, back then, he was only Vice Admiral.”

“Learning that not everyone wants the same kind of life… Were you talking about the life that the program had prescribed for you? Or the one that Admiral Lee gave you?”

“All of it, I think,” he let out a cynical chuckle.

“And what kind of life do you want now? For yourself?”

“Y/N…” He turned his focus from where it had been on the river to you. “I didn’t tell you all of that as a heart-on-my-sleeve, vulnerable moment. You deserve to know that I’m not entirely human.”

“Is that really how you feel? Inhuman?”

He sighed, looking down at himself. “There are parts of me that are… manufactured. Irrevocably altered. I don’t think I remember how it felt before I was like this.”

“So what do you think you are, then? If not human?” You asked curiously.

“I think Liu would classify me as a cyborg?”

“I didn’t ask what Yangyang would classify you as. I asked what you think you are.”

“I’m… something else,” he determined, voice hollow.

“Kun…”

“Hm?” He gazed over at you.

“Thank you for telling me. I do care, about all of that. Because it’s you, it’s about you, part of who you are, whether you think that’s for better or for worse. But that doesn’t make you any less in my eyes,” you said sincerely.

“Any less human?”

“Any less… you. Don’t you get it? That’s what I care about, not your alleged humanity, or lack thereof.”

“When Admiral Lee told me Dr. Yoon was dead, I celebrated,” he said with a cold kind of humor.

“I think that’s warranted.”

“Not because a bad man who had done bad things to me and other kids was dead. But because—because finally, the part of me that still wanted to make him proud had died with him.”

“Kun… I’m going to tell you something that I think you already know. Just because he played a part in how your body physically developed, does not mean that he made you the man that you are now. You are not his creation, or even Admiral Lee’s. You are your own person, whole and complete. A sum of all the parts, everything you’ve been through, and everything you’ve learned. But you. Not anybody else.” You placed a hand on his forearm, giving it a gentle squeeze. “You do not owe that man anything.”

He looked down at your hand. “I don’t think I ever want you to remember…”

“What?”

“Knowing that he might’ve… to you. I think it might be better for you to never remember.” Kun slowly put his hand over yours.

“Oh…”

“What are we doing, Y/N?”

You looked around uncertainly. “Uh… sitting?”

“Why are you sitting with me right now? Instead of starting mess with everyone else back at camp?”

“Because I’d rather be here than there. Is that hard to believe?”

“No. I just…” He breathed out, looking down at your connected hands. “I can’t promise you any sort of normal life. Or anything, really. Other than me.”

“I wouldn’t really know what a normal life is. I have a feeling that I wasn’t exactly living one before this, either,” you pointed out. “That’s all I can offer, too. Myself.”

“That’s more than enough.”

“And so are you.” You reassured him. “So? Will you let us…?”

He swallowed, then nodded. “Sure, yes.”

“Thank you,” you said quietly, scooting closer to him.

“There will be no way to keep this from the others,” he cautioned.

“Just how many warnings are you going to try to scare me off with before you realize I don’t care?”

“I was stating a fact.”

“It was the way you said it, how you looked at me. Like you expected me to leave,” you frowned.

“It should’ve at least given you pause. All of this should’ve,” he shook his head, carefully taking his arm back to loop it around your shoulders.

“And yet it didn’t.”

The two of you were quiet for another moment, then you heard Kun scoff under his breath.

“Yeah, ZEN?” He addressed the AI tersely. “Fine, you can patch him through... What do you need, Wong? Yeah, we’ll be there in a minute.”

“Soup’s on?” You guessed.

“Yeah…” He sighed, not making a move to leave yet.

“Do you… want to go?”

“In a minute.”

By the time you got back to camp, the others were already sat around the campfire with their dishes, though it looked like they hadn’t started eating yet.

“There you are!” The Professor waved to the two of you as soon as he saw you. “Thought we were going to have to send a search party or something.”

“We had to walk all the way back here,” Kun said plainly, grabbing both of the extra dishes from the food prep station and handing you one. “You all could have started without us.”

“ZEN said you were only—” Yangyang got cut off by Ten elbowing him in the side. “Ow! What was that for?”

“Thanks for waiting,” you opted not to address whatever that was, sitting down in the single large gap left between Dejun and the Professor, in the spot closer to your tentmate.

“So what’s the next destination, then, Captain?” Ten inquired. “Dropping Y/N off at UHN Main for debriefing?”

“Oh, shit, yeah.” Kunhang shook his head. “It’s weird, I got so used to you being here, Y/N. Kind of forgot you weren’t actually one of us.”

“Yeah, we’ll miss you,” Dejun patted your shoulder, then focused a pointed stare on the youngest crew member. “And I’ll miss you extra when Liu sleeptalks.”

“Thanks, guys,” you gave them all an appreciative smile before looking at Kun out of the corner of your eye uncertainly.

Kun cleared his throat. “However, Y/N will be staying with us for the foreseeable future, due—”

“Seriously?!” Yangyang interrupted incredulously. “I got chewed out for like two hours for even suggesting—”

“Because at the time, it was the reckless and stupid option,” Kun cut him off strictly. “But, if you had let me finish what I was saying, Lieutenant, I would’ve been able to explain that I now believe it’s the safer option for her. We don’t know the whereabouts of the other survivor, and there’s a very good chance that he has the proof with him—whatever it is. There’s too many uncertainties for us to leave Y/N on Earth alone.”

“You think this Dr. Yoon is a danger to Y/N?” The Professor questioned.

“More of a danger than being around us?” Dejun added.

“Yes,” the captain replied very seriously. “We’re a self-contained vessel; our courses aren’t plotted externally ahead of time, our missions aren’t documented in a centralized record after the fact, and we’re undetectable in flight as well. Nobody will know about her unless we want them to.”

Ten nodded. “Sounds like a plan to me.”

“Hell yeah!” Kunhang grinned and held a hand up towards you. “Welcome aboard.”

You accepted his high-five with a laugh. “Thanks, Kunhang.”

“So back to my question, then,” Ten cocked his head. “Where to next?”

“UHN Main,” Kun answered. “I need to provide the Admiral with an update, in person. We also need to resupply, and you all are due for some shore leave.”

They all erupted into cheers, and you found yourself smiling down at your food, too. UHN Main, where Kun could get his much-needed readjustment.

The rest of dinner was an amiable, jovial affair as the crew spitballed ideas for their shore leave. After the food was finished, everyone pitched in with cleaning up and packing away the materials that wouldn’t be needed again. You were leaving tomorrow.

“Y/N,” Dejun called for you when pretty much everything was done, but the others were still milling about, talking to each other excitedly. “Let me take a look at your hand in the tent.”

“Oh, uhm—” You gave in to his insistent tug on your elbow, despite your brain frantically trying to think of a reason why he couldn’t inspect your perfectly healed palm.

In your tent, Dejun started rooting through one of his med packs as you were still stumbling through the beginning of an excuse.

“Dejun, you don’t need to—”

“I know,” he said simply, standing back up and handing you a disinfectant wipe and two med-pods. “Captain’s got you. Right?”

“…Right.” You accepted the supplies. “Thanks.”

“Are you okay with this?”

“With what?”

“Staying with us. You know, not getting a normal life yet. I know you can’t remember, or maybe don’t know what that’s like, but… I don’t want you to think you have to do this. The UHN can give you a new identity, hide you in other ways.”

You paused, looking at him curiously. “Why did you join the UHN, Dejun?”

“After med school, I did my residency at a rehab clinic for veterans. Thought I could make more of a difference if I got to them earlier.” He fidgeted with the holster around his thigh.

“I’m okay with this,” you assured him. “Whatever kind of life I had before, normal or not… I can never go back to it. Even if I remember, it’ll never be the same. And after the war—who does have a normal life anymore? Or gets to say what that is?”

“Alright.” Dejun patted your shoulder. “I’m happy to have you aboard, don’t get me wrong. Not trying to get rid of you or anything. Just want to make sure you know your options.”

“Thanks, Dejun.” You gave him a smile before ducking out of the tent.

You couldn’t see the others around the campfire anymore, but you swore you heard voices and what sounded like splashing in the direction of the river. One last late-night swim, it seemed.

“Kun?” You waited outside his tent.

“Come in!” He beckoned you in just a moment later.

Kun was sitting on his cot, a thin paperback book in his hands.

“Is that the book Ten found earlier?” You asked, moving over the container you usually sat on.

“Yeah.” He held it up so you could see the cover. Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus by Mary Shelley.

“I didn’t realize you’d grabbed it.”

“ZEN could probably pull it up for me, back on the Vision. But my eyes hurt looking at those screens for too long, you know?” He put in a bookmark, a folded-up piece of graph paper, before setting the book aside.

He laid down without prompting, reaching around to adjust his shirt for you. You ripped open the antiseptic wipe first.

“So why now?” You asked, disinfecting the injection site. “Why do you want to leave Aegeum now? There were lots of other times you could’ve called the mission over.”

“I need to report Dr. Yoon being alive to Admiral Lee as soon as possible.”

“Do you think that Admiral Lee knew he was alive?” You took out the first med-pod.

“No, Admiral Lee hates him as much as I do,” Kun said, staring ahead of him. “And the Admiral has never lied to me. When he can’t tell me something, he lets me know.”

“Do you think you’ll be going after him? Dr. Yoon?”

Click.

“I’ll need further directions from the Admiral.” He ran a hand through his hair. “If we don’t have any leads, he’ll probably just have us focus on our original mission.”

“And what is the mission?”

“Well…”

“I’m part of the crew now, kind of. Indefinitely. Shouldn’t I get to know what your mission that you’re on actually is?”

“No, you’re right. I’m trying to find the best starting place,” he mused. “So, the Intergalactic War ended almost a year ago.”

“Yes, I did know that,” you informed him, carefully picking through your memory. “It was the United Human Intercosmic Territories against Ourogos, the K’llor, and some factions of A-Jregth.”

You used the proper name for the A-Jregth, as opposed to the common, less-than-flattering human nickname for them—Dumbo, for their large ears that reminded the first UHN soldiers to make contact with them of elephants. In that moment, you couldn’t recall the original connection between the name and the Earth animal, but that could wait.

“Well, UHIT is much less united now; we’ve got a lot on our plate trying to keep ourselves together. Especially with some planets of Phasers and other human-originated species talking about wanting independence from humans.”

“On the grounds that they’re not humans?” You guessed.

“Exactly. There’s rumors of talks of secession.” The med-pod clicked then, and he paused as you grabbed the next one. Once you had them swapped out, he continued, “The aliens’ alliance has completely dissolved, however. Before we came here, we were on Ourogos; it’s especially nasty there. They’re almost in a civil war, trapped between two zealots vying for power ever since their leader, Busr Gorkourontorous, was assassinated. The Fisheads and Dumbo went back to their own business, and the Skippers are doing what they’ve always done.”

“You don’t sound too troubled about any of that.”

“The more time they spend killing each other, the more time we have to figure our own shit out.”

Moving your gaze from the med-pod to his face, you asked, “When did the busr die?”

“Recently,” he replied knowingly.

“Did one of you…?”

“We didn’t pull the trigger,” Kun said. “But we supplied the gun. And the bullet.”

“Arms dealing. To both sides?”

“The more of them that are dead, the fewer there will be to come kill humans.” He finally looked back at you. “That’s our mission. Less dead humans.”

“Do you think you’re accomplishing that?” You held his eye contact, leaning forward to rest your elbows on your knee and prop up your chin with one of your palms.

“That’s not my determination to make right now. Not yet.”

“You’re a self-contained vessel. That comes with quite a bit of leeway with decision-making, doesn’t it?”

“Day-to-day decisions, yes. Admiral Lee has put a lot of trust in me. But every one of my calls is supposed to be made with that objective in mind.”

The second med-pod finished, and you took it off him as well, setting it at your feet with the rest of the trash that you’d take with you to put in Dejun’s medical disposal container in your tent. For once, neither of you made a move to leave now that it was done.

“How did you end up on Aegeum?” You asked.

“Intelligence guy picked up chatter from some Skippers. He didn’t speak Skipper, but he could make out one word they kept saying over and over that sounded like human. You know Skipper, it sounds like a bunch of chipmunks chittering about, so the word ‘Aegeum’ kind of caught his attention. Relayed it back to Admiral Lee. He sent us out here.”

“Do you have the recording of the Skippers? The Professor or ZEN…?”

“UHN translators have been working on it since we’ve been down here. It might be done, I’ll have to check once we’re back on the Vision.”

“Kind of makes me think…” You mused aloud. “About what would’ve happened if you all hadn’t found me. If I would’ve ever gotten out of that shelter.”

“I know you don’t remember how you got in there, but… what do you think you would’ve done? If you’d left the shelter, you’d have been able to survive off the ag bubble indefinitely, at least.”

“I don’t know,” you admitted, messing with your fingers. “I-I didn’t know, or didn’t remember, what was going on outside of the shelter other than the smell, but I had this feeling that I shouldn’t leave it, and I shouldn’t be found, you know? But when I saw you and Kunhang, and I knew you were UHN—I knew that the UHN was safe, at least. So… I really don’t know if I would’ve ever left.”

You watched as he slowly started sitting back up, and he thankfully didn’t clutch his back, wince, or groan this time. The two med-pods seemed to be doing pretty well for him. But they were only a temporary fix.

“You’re going to get your tune-up at UHN Main, right?” You looked at him seriously. “You’ll give your report to Admiral Lee, the crew will go on shore leave, and you’ll get your adjustment?”

“Yes, Y/N,” he confirmed with a hint of a smile. “I’ll get my adjustment while we’re there.”

“Good.”

“But then what excuse will you have for coming into my quarters every night?”

You landed a soft kick against his ankle at his teasing words, making him snicker. “You say that as if the crew know why I’ve been doing it in the first place. Other than Dejun, they have no clue. Who knows what they’re thinking now.”

“That’s true.” He still had a hint of a chuckle in his voice. “Speaking of… I have a spare bunk in my cabin on the Vision, you’re welcome to it. Or you can room with the Professor, if you’d like. I’m sure he’d enjoy the opportunity to ask you more about Outspacer.”

“Wait, if you both have spare bunks, then why is Dejun rooming with Yangyang, who talks in his sleep?” You cocked your head in bewilderment. “Why doesn’t he just stay with one of you so he isn’t disturbed by Yangyang’s sleeptalking?”

“Kid can’t sleep by himself. Apparently wasn’t a problem until he got onto a ship. We’ve offered for Xiao to move, but—” Kun shrugged.

“He’s a good teammate.” You then circled back to his original offer, bringing your hand up to tap your chin as if deep in thought. “I’ll have to think about it… Staying in the captain’s quarters, wouldn’t want anybody to get the wrong idea, you know?”

“Oh, of course not.”

“And I should probably be getting back to my tent,” you sighed melodramatically, slowly getting to your feet. “I’ve been in here for a suspicious amount of time already, don’t you think?”

“Hold on—ZEN? Where are the others?” Kun was still as he listened to ZEN’s response from within his neural port. “Great. Cut out your incoming audiovisual feed from me, but let me know when they start heading back, okay? Thanks.”

You tilted your head in a silent question.

“Everyone’s down at the river still,” he informed you, offering his hand out to you. “We have some time.”

“Mm… okay.” You placed your hand in his.

Kun scooted over to make some room beside him on the cot, and you accepted the invitation, sitting beside him instead of on the container like before.

“Are you ready? To leave?” He asked quietly.

“Yeah. I don’t really have a lot of personal effects to pack up, so…” You shrugged. “Though, I was curious about getting from the facility to your ship. Is the atmosphere breathable?”

“It’s a bit thin. Unfortunately, we weren’t expecting to acquire anybody while we were down here, so we don’t have an extra suit for you on the dropship. Xiao has masks with limited oxygen supply, you should be okay with one of those for the short walk on the surface.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“But I wasn’t asking you if you were packed,” he continued, rubbing a thumb over the back of your hand. “I mean, this is the only place you can remember. Are you ready to leave it?”

You nodded in determination. “I am. It’s unfortunate that we didn’t find the proof of concept or figure out why the Skippers were here, but I have no personal reservations about leaving. This isn’t my home.”

“Okay, good.”

“What are you going to say about me? In your report to the Admiral?”

“I’ll give him a brief update when we get back on the Vision tomorrow, before leaving. I’ll say we found a survivor, and we’re headed back to UHN Main so I can make a full report, but that’ll be it. I know you’ve only met his dumbed-down safety version, but ZEN’s a very good AI, he’ll keep the connection between the Admiral and I secure while I report.”

“This has been ZEN dumbed down?” You repeated with a smile. “I’m excited to meet him fully, then.”

“He’s something else,” Kun said with a shake of his head. “Like what I just had to do, asking him to butt out to get some privacy. ZEN at full capacity understands the concept of appropriate levels of snooping. This one, you have to give some clearer direction. He understands when we don’t need to hear each other—most of the time—but can’t turn off incoming audiovisual to himself of his own volition.”

“You must be used to his omnipresence on the Vision. His main nexus is there, I’m assuming he’s throughout the ship’s systems.”

“Well yes, but I don’t really care if he hears our talk around the mess table or sees me cleaning my armor. This… is different.”

“How so?”

“Well—”

“I’m kidding, Kun,” you laughed, bumping your shoulder against his. “I like knowing that we’re really alone, too. Makes it feel more… intimate, I think.”

“I agree.”

“There is one thing I’ll miss about Aegeum, though.”

“What’s that?”

“Those strawberries were really good.”

Kun’s eyes crinkled as he smiled fondly. “They were. Do you want to go get some?”

“Now?”

“Why not? One last handful, a midnight snack.”

“I do.”

And so the two of you quietly slipped out of his tent, hurrying off in the direction of the strawberry fields. You could hear the others by the river, though their voices and splashing got more distant the nearer you got to the fields. Finally, you made it to the strawberry patch, and the air of the ag bubble was peaceful around you.

There were small, hidden lights along the pathways and edges of the fields that automatically turned on at night, affording just enough brightness for you to be able to distinguish the fruits on the bushes as Kun went to pick them. He handed you the first one he grabbed, then bit into the second himself.

“Kun, you’ve got some on your face,” you pointed out, and he went to wipe at his right cheek. You shook your head with a giggle, bringing your own thumb up to his left cheek. “No, you— Here, I’ve got it.”

“Oh now that’s not fair,” he complained with an air of teasing in his tone.

“Why’s that?”

“You don’t have anything on your face, so I don’t have an excuse to charmingly cradle your cheek like you’re doing to me.”

“How about you do it anyway—” You took his free hand and brought it up to your face, “—and while we’re here, you can kiss me like you’ve been thinking about doing since the river today?”

“Am I easy to read or have you failed to mention that you’re a mind reader?”

“The first one,” you teased.

“All those years of intelligence operative training were wasted, apparently,” he chuckled.

“Your secret’s safe with me.”

You met him halfway, closing the distance and melting into a kiss that tasted of the sweet-tart strawberry juice still on your lips. You took your hand from his face to tangle your fingers in the hair at the back of his head, definitely longer than regulation, and he continue pressing his lips to yours over and over, as if making up for every moment tonight that he had wanted to kiss you but didn’t. You lost track of how many strawberry sweet kisses the two of you exchanged between bites, conversation, hushed bursts of laughter, and even more strawberries. And you thought that if this was part of your normal, no matter how fleeting, you could be pretty happy with this.

⇢ next | series masterlist | blog masterlist

[yourgamemasterthewhiterabbit]

Did I tell you about the time I accidentally tracked an injured pigeon from multiple city blocks away?

So just after the duck incident, I had this very fresh idea of exactly what rotting bird smells like. I thought I had finally gotten the smell out of the house, but smells to me linger like they get stuck in my sinuses or something...

Anyway so I think it's finally, like gone, gone... and I am out for a walk, and I catch a faint whiff of "rotting bird blood" and I'm like "no". No I refuse to believe this smell is still haunting me, or in my clothes or My hair or whatever. I got that smell out... But I am not just imagining it right? I'm not losing my mind?

I turned back and forth a couple times and the smell got stronger or weaker and I'm like "Okay, if I follow it, I can maybe confirm that smell isn't 'coming from inside the house' so to speak, yeah?" So I do.

Trying not to look like I am obviously sniffing the air and changing my mind about where to walk based on that and maybe pulling off looking more like a crow, or more like I am listening for something, I follow that fucking smell. I follow it long enough that I would be starting to think it's getting silly of me except the smell keeps getting stronger.

So finally I walk back and forth past some store fronts and determine that the smell is strongest right between the buildings. There's an alley there that's maybe 2 feet wide if you're generous about it. And I can hear pigeons cooing. So I stick myself into this little -too narrow to be an alley, you wouldn't want to walk down it really- and there's this pigeon with a fucked up wing. There's blood on the pavement near it, old and dried out. It's mate is there with it and bringing it food. It's tucked away out of they street and it has someone taking care of it, at least, even if that someone is other pigeons. It looks like a cat got at it's wing maybe, or it got clipped by a car. It doesn't want me coming near it.

So there's my answer. The 'rotting bird blood' smell I had just tracked through all the other smells downtown and past main street isn't some big massacred bird corpse stinking in the sun or 20 pigeons that were gunned down with pellets the way it smelled like... It's a living pigeon with an injured wing. The smell that was driving me nuts from blocks away because it was so strong to me and because I knew what the smell was enough to recognize it and be bothered I didn't know where it was coming from.

The fucking look I gave myself.

[Like good job buddy you found the smell! You tracked a little bird! Do you want a reward? Dumbass go back to your errands... Like before the store closes, and tell no one]

It felt so silly. It was silly. Probably, but I did learn something about myself and how human senses are that day.

The biggest obstacle to most people being able to pick up on really subtle smells is a combination of bothering to pay attention, being familiar enough with a smell to recognize it, and having an emotional reaction to it enough that it comes to your attention at all, instead of begin written off unconsciously as meaningless noise. Part of my good hearing and sense of smell might be thin nerve endings and sensitive nerves [connective tissue, hormones and autism], but part of it is also the autistic inability to turn off 'junk' sensory input, and just being an observant person prone to noticing patterns. Maybe I have a particularly strong memory for smells in particular for recognition type recall, even if my proactive/intentional recall is shit.

Real life human noses can just be like that too.

really I prommy.

And that's without conscious training! There are people who intentionally expose themselves to all the smells and "notes" they can to learn to identify things that way, like cigarette brands by scent, or wines, or whatever!

If you have a character who's a "nose" who has had training and lots of experiences or is a spy who was trained -knowing- they have super senses... I am not going to be impressed if they can only manage the kind of party tricks I can!

And that's why my biggest gripe about writers trying to write characters with a super-sense of smell is twofold:

What you have described isn't outside the range of things I can smell myself [okay I wouldn't say I am an unmutated human exactly like I do have genetic mutations, but you know what I mean]

You haven't given the character a -reason- to be familiar with what that smell even is! There is no inborn ledger of what smells are in the human psyche! They have to be familiar with the smell from a known source to know what it is! Stop forgetting that! Your character needs a reason to have noticed what these things smell like! They won't know what radiation damaged flesh smells like unless they've smelled that before! They won't know what liver cancer smells like unless they have smelled it before! The have to know what a person smells like and that the smell on something -was- from that person to begin with -for someone they haven't met- before they can notice their scent on the wind! Otherwise all they are getting is "a human who used hotel soap" or "something off".

It isn't hard to establish a background comparison they can make to what a smell must be. They spent time in hospitals or medical facilities or old age homes and talked to people enough to identify patterns in what smells are, or they worked at a gas station for a while and know the difference between different fuel smells, gasoline and diesel, leaded, unleaded, etc...

Maybe even they smell something and their brain instantly says "a helicopter was here" and they have to take a moment to be like "why the fuck do I know what a helicopter smells like [or what combo of smells registers as 'helicopter' like machine lubricant, the right fuel, the material of the seats, etc...], obviously there's something I am not remembering, because unconsciously I knew what that smell was when I shouldn't"

I have gotten entire memories back, as someone with amnesia and repressed memories -including of being in a car accident- because I unconsciously ordered what used to be my old coffee order and the smell and taste slammed me back 10 years deep into a memory... A lot of human memory is closely linked to smell and even the writers who -think- they are taking advantage of that aren't thinking big enough.

Yeah it's an experience that's hard to fake if it isn't how you live, but like... Try really testing out your own sense of smell sometime, consciously, [I mean if you smoke or keep exposing yourself to corona I can't help you]. Make a habit of picking out smells around you and taking note of what they are. Carry a notepad around and start to notice trends. Maybe ask a friend with a sensitive nose and sensory issues what their experiences are like.

[ghoulfuckersincorporated]

I have a desperate need for more ghoul!Joshua Graham. I just finished Honest Hearts again, and the brainrot has thoroughly set in 🫠🫠

Love your headcanons and fics!

Ghoul!Joshua Graham (Fallout: New Vegas, Honest Hearts DLC) NSFW Headcanons

[Minor TW for discussion of the concept of marital rape/unhealthy views of consent typical of Caesar's Legion.]

As I've touched on before, you'd be hard-pressed to get this man to even consider the idea that his constant pain and open wounds are the result of active ghoulification and not some sort of spiritual affliction. Ol' boy would believe he's the new Cain before he'd believe that being exposed to radiation when you're freshly, near-mortally wounded would turn him into a ghoul. He'll only believe you if you prove to him that radiation will help to heal his lingering wounds, and he'll only even entertain such a thing if he trusts you quite deeply, and Joshua Graham is not a man who trusts easily. You'll see this man's dick long before you ever hear him admit that he may be turning into "something else". I suppose you could trick him into radiation exposure to prove your point, but I think he'd react really poorly to that.

Once his pain is consistently well-managed, he still won't be enthusiastic about the idea of ditching the bandages, even when the two of you are alone. Yes, part of it is because his skin is still quite fragile, regardless of if he's largely healed of any significant wounds. Fresh scar tissue isn't very strong and he'll be easily re-injured. But that isn't the only factor that motivates him to keep his body and face largely hidden away, or even the primary one; he's also more vain than you'd suspect (or he'd ever want to admit to). As fearsome as his reputation had been before, as monstrous as he was (and is), he still thought himself quite easy on the eyes at one time. Being with someone so beautiful, and likely significantly younger than he is, will not soothe this insecurity, shockingly. The most he'll give you, generally, is unwinding the wrappings from the places you want access to; his mouth, his hands, his groin. That's about it until there's a reason for him to remove more in front of you. However, I think that once he was fully exposed in front of you once, he'd be more agreeable to do it again. The feeling of your smooth, plush skin against his own is actually quite intoxicating. In public, though, I'm not sure he's anywhere near a place where he'd feel comfortable not being wrapped head to toe.

Since he's already several years into the ghoulification process, his senses are already heightened; his sense of smell is especially acute, even through the bandages. He will use this against you as often as possible. Snuck off to have a secret joint or cig? Not a secret from Joshua. Turned on and trying to keep it under wraps? He sees right through you. He can even smell other people on you if he makes the effort to commit their smell to memory. God help you if you come back to him smelling a little too much like someone he doesn't approve of or want you around...you'll have some groveling to do.

Almost embarrassed by how active his sex drive becomes once the two of you are intimately acquainted and he's generally pain-free. It ebbs and flows a bit, but generally he finds himself wanting you to the point of action about every other day. However, when things are going especially well, he finds himself wanting you every day, sometimes multiple times a day. During these intense "on" periods, he tries his best to give you plenty of time to rest (and heal; he frets about the idea of his boldly fluids hurting you now that his whole body is slightly radioactive, so if you complain of any soreness after penetrative sex, he won't touch you for days afterwards, even if you plead...the fact that he can be quite rough doesn't seem to factor into the situation in his mind) and will "suck it up" as often as possible. The man is damn near sixty; he isn't gonna complain about having gas in the tank, but he does find himself feeling some chagrin when it seems like a strong enough breeze suddenly gets him going.

Has never been an especially deep or sound sleeper, and once he begins to accept what's happening to him, he sleeps even less. Not at all some nights. Many ghouls give up on the idea of sleep because they don't want to be haunted by dreams of the past; Joshua is constantly thinking about the past, so that isn't a big deal to him. He simply has a terminal case of Protestant (Mormon) Work Ethic and thinks its a waste to sleep if he doesn't feel the need. Of course, more time awake means more time for his desires to tempt him, and he quickly finds himself plagued by lust while you sleep. Trying to respect your need for rest, he doesn't often act on these feelings much, save for an occasional grope or kiss to your sleeping body. He finds this overwhelming temptation an indictment on his self control, and for that reason, he abstains from acting on his feelings outside of that. However, once you're married (and this man will marry you if you're sleeping together/dating; he isn't the type to date casually for many reasons that I don't think need describing), his thinking on the subject slowly evolves. You'll go from waking up to him staring a hole through his open Bible with an erection he refuses to address to waking up to him on top of you. Like I've said before, that Legion mindset still frames his opinions on many fronts, and in the Legion, the person you marry is basically your property to utilize as it pleases you. I mean, you love him, right? Don't you want to take care of him? Do not ask this man if he thinks it's possible to rape your spouse...you will not like his answer.

Already has the typical ghoul obsession with hair on his partner, whether he realizes it or not. Loves to play with your hair, subtly but affectionately; twirling the ends around his fingertip, smoothing it with his broad palms. Will braid your hair if you let him. Equally loves to thread his fingers into it at the roots and use it to yank you around while he fucks you, bury his face in it as you both come apart together. Also quite intrigued by the soft downiness of any pubic hair you may have. Likes to spend time sucking and nibbling at your inner thighs as an excuse to rub his cheek against it.

[seventeenpins]

violet pairing: older qz!joel x f!reader

word count: 5.8k

summary: follow-up to forget-me-not. it's been seven years since you last saw joel in the boston qz, and a lot has changed. you find yourselves reunited in jackson.

warnings: smut, actually contains a lot of plot (sorry), tommy, maria & ellie all exist, allusions to/discussion of abortion, reader has a kid, joel is insecure about being an old man (you're only 63, it's ok buddy), reader is mid-thirties to early 40s, lil bit of daddy kink, face sitting, multiple orgasms.

a/n: okay first -- header or no header? like, it's a bit ridiculous but i also kinda love it? instead of packing up for a move, i've been writing this 🤷 thanks for all the continued love on my fics, it's so sweet and means a whole lot. working on a few other stories, and i hope to have more out soon!

this chapter is dedicated to the dumbass at the club who didn't quite manage to ruin a first date i was on by asking us what we thought about gay rights (as two fem-perceived folks caught smoochin) and then telling us "you're clearly so in love, i respect that" before yeeting off in the moonlight.

you could have sworn the terrain had been totally empty only moments before, but now in the blink of an eye, you’re surrounded by a small group of riders, armed, their horses huffing down at you. 

“shit,” you gasp, trying to shield your girl, but realising there was little use. can’t put your body in front of hers when there’s people on every side of you. instead, your hands grip tighter on the shoulders of your daughter and you take a breath, trying to steady your breathing.

“you been near infected?” a man calls down at you, and his accent reminds you of joel, so much so that your heart flutters for a moment at the memory. you’ve met lots of people on your travels, a few of them from austin, too, and every time you think of him.

“no,” you call back, “last we saw them was back in the dakotas and there weren’t many there. that was weeks ago, haven’t encountered any since.”

the man nods, and you’re not sure what he’s thinking under his stetson, but the fact you’re not shot yet seems like a good sign. hopefully.

"frankly, we've had much more trouble from people than from infected on our way. but we've been able to take care of ourselves," you say, and you're hoping your words have an underlying edge of danger, but you're pretty sure you just come off as scared and defensive.

the man nods, and looks you up and down. “well, we've gotta make sure,” he says, almost apologetic, and you tense. it takes a moment before you see the dog, but then a dark blur comes bounding towards you, snarling. You tense and pull your girl close, but after a few moments of incredibly stressful sniffing, the dog leaves you alone and trods back to his owner, panting happily.

“good,” the man says, “now we've got that cleared up, what’s your business here?”

it's a good fuckin question, but not one you have a direct answer to.

"we came from boston," you tell him, "it was okay for a while, but the qz changed--got worse. more bombings. more hangings. if it was just me i might have stayed put, but i have my daughter."

there's so much you could say, but you're pretty sure you're advocating for your own life right now, so you keep it short and simple.

"we're just trying to find... somewhere better. travelling through all the places i've ever known people, to see if there's somewhere safe out there at all."

he nods, and the group surrounding you seems to back down a little.

"come with us. i think we might have what you're looking for," he tells you, and then one rider jumps down from their horse, mounts another, and the first man helps you and your daughter onto the vacated horse.

you follow the group, cantering along, and the man keeps an eye on you, and a woman in the group rides up next to you.

"so, you're from the boston qz? that's quite a journey," the man says, and nods his head towards the young woman, "she and i both travelled here from boston, years ago. i left back in, oof, '13? remind me, when did you leave?"

the woman nods, "left when i was fourteen, in '23."

"oh wow," you say, "i honestly didn't expect to meet anyone from boston round here"

there's a pause.

"what did you say your name was?" he asks, and you tell him.

"and this is violet," you say, giving your daughter's shoulder a squeeze, and she nestles back into your chest, ever shy around strangers.

"nice to meet you both," the woman grins, "i'm ellie"

"and i'm tommy," the man says. you're sure it's just a weird coincidence, a common name, just cos he happens to share the same name as joel's brother it doesn't mean anything, but you can't help but ask-

"this is probably silly, but you're not tommy miller are you?"

both tommy and ellie halt, so you do to, as they communicate something through quick glances and furrowed brows.

"wait," you say, "are you? tommy miller?"

he stares you down, and all of a sudden, you see it in his eyes. joel's eyes. violet's eyes.

"i-" your heart is pounding now with the realisation, "i knew your brother. i knew joel. he was a-" you hesitate for only a split second, "friend."

"well shit," tommy says. he caught the hesitation when you landed on friend, and he's looking at you, brows furrowed. "when was the last time you saw him?"

you shrug. "guess it was seven years ago." you look at your daughter, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear, and then back up at tommy. "it was when he'd stopped hearing from you, actually. he came out to find you. did... did he find you?"

tommy doesn't answer, his eyes widening, and you can see him put the pieces together as he looks at you and then at your daughter, to you, and to her again.

"how old did you say she was?" he nods at violet but keeps his gaze fixed on you.

"i didn't."

"humor me."

"she's six."

"huh," he says, and ellie's looking between you two now and you can see realisation dawning on her, too.

"wait a second--holy shit," ellie cackles, "joel's gonna lose his fuckin' mind."

a sudden flare of panic and excitement floods through you. "wait, you know him too? he's nearby? i'm sorry- he lives around here? he made it?"

ellie snorts and tommy lets out a noise that's almost like a cross between a deep exhale and a strangled moan.

"yep, he lives in town. made it here with ellie a few years back. been living here a while now."

you don't know if you're thrilled or terrified. to be honest, your brain suddenly feels like it's filled to the brim with bees that were muffling out any thought more complex than AAAAHHHHHHHH.. you'd always hoped you might see joel again, but it wasn't till now you realised you never really believed you would.

he's alive. he actually made it.

as if sensing your racing thoughts, tommy pulls up beside you and claps a strong hand on your shoulder.

"one step at a time, sweetheart. seems like y'all have a whole lotta catchin' up to do."

after you're brought through the gate and finish up at the dining hall for a bite to eat, tommy and ellie take you both on a tour of jackson. you'd seen lots of things in the time you'd travelled, but this is the first real community you'd seen. it made you think of the old days, or rather, your ideas of the old days. you were too young when the world ended, but the idea of people living together and supporting one another without bombs going off on street corners and scheduled hangings was something else.

"we've been workin' on makin' a functioning society here. we get energy from the dam, so actual, non-fedra electricity." tommy points along the main street at the street lighting (actual street lighting!!)

"most of the shops are along here," he continues, pointing out each place as he lists them off, "necessities, like a cobbler and a tailor over in that space. greenhouses and farms over in that direction as well as a clinic. we've got a bar, a couple o' bakeries, house of worship, stables back that way- couple fellas opening a barbershop in that space over there pretty soon. and, of course, the residential area just down here. we've got a lotta houses, and we're working on refurbishing a whole lot, too. most families have their own homes. you're welcome to take some time to decide if you would like to stay here, but y'all seem like decent people and at the very least, we can put you up in some of our temporary housing 'til we have a better grasp on what you need. we got families of all configurations here. we did that a whole lot better after the world ended. and this is a home for a lotta people."

"oh-!" ellie says, suddenly excited, "and the school's over there, if you guys wanna stay. fedra school fucking sucked but this one was actually pretty cool. we actually got to learn stuff!"

violet giggles a little, and ellie shoots her a bright smile that makes her giggle little more. it feels safe here. you don't remember the last time things have felt safe. you're trying to take it all in, memorise every storefront, every person, every moment, when the aroma of fresh-baked pastries suddenly assaults your nostrils and you let out an involuntary moan.

"been a while, huh?" ellie asks and snorts, and you nod. "i grew up in the qz so i never had one of these till the shop opened up a couple years ago. but i hear it's just like the old days!"

"mama, it smells really good," violet says, and it's the first thing she's said since you've come through the gates.

"it does, doesn't it?" you ask her, "and look at all these shops. see those clothes in the window there?"

her eyes are as wide as saucers, and you're so overwhelmed with joy that she gets to experience this that you don't notice ellie bounding up the steps to the bakery and running back a minute later with a paper wrapped something in hand.

she holds it out to you and you take it from her gingerly. you kneel down to let violet unwrap the paper and inside is a perfect strawberry danish. you're stunned.

"that's cream cheese and butter from our cows," tommy tells you, "strawberries and wheat grown here, too. all fresh. all cordyceps free. we don't risk using any of the old stuff that might be contaminated"

that's amazing. that's fucking amazing.

"here, baby," you tear off a piece for violet, and she clutches it carefully and sniffs at it warily before popping it into her mouth, chewing with furrowed brows, and breaking out into a grin.

"welcome to jackson," ellie says, and now you're laughing too.

by the evening, tommy's given you a tour of the whole settlement and left you, ellie, and violet at the tipsy bison with an invitation to join him and his family for dinner. there was a strong likelihood that joel would be there and you were shitting bricks.

what if he's totally different from how you remember him? what if he isn't?

what if he wants nothing to do with you? what if he wants nothing to do with violet?

what if he's forgotten you?

you pinch yourself to pull out of your spiral. ellie winks at violet, who's sipping at her juice, and clinks her glass against yours. together, you take large swigs of your beer.

she tells you a bit about herself. she's vague about how she and joel met, and you're not sure if it's because she doesn't want to talk about it or if she's trying to spare the gory details around violet, but she speaks of him fondly and blushed a little when she mentioned i've kinda become, like, a surrogate daughter to him. and he's my old man.

before you could gather your thoughts and ask any follow-ups, she's already blowing through different topics, grinning as she tells you about her girlfriend, about her tattoo and how she wants another one, about her favorite horse, and the way patrols worked around here, and you relax into the conversation. into the peace. into taking a break.

before you know it, the three of you are walking towards tommy's house and right as you're about to knock at the door, ellie barrels past and swings the door open with a bellowed "we're here!" reverberating off the walls.

as you step through the door, delicious food smells waft through the hallway and you hear laughter and music coming from the kitchen. ellie makes a beeline through the door on your right and you take it all in for a moment.

"you coming?" ellie calls, and you follow her.

and stop dead in your tracks.

illuminated in the light of an antique shaded lamp, sat on a rocking chair, was joel.

he's greyer and more tired, but he also looks- happy? and he's got reading glasses on as he peers at what looks to be a picture book as he points out the illustrations to the kid on his lap. your jaw drops.

the kid's probably around the same age as violet.

ellie is stood in the corner of the room, half-heartedly pretending to examine a bookshelf while she blatantly eavesdrops.

joel looks up and smiles in a way that you've only seen a few times before. it's... unguarded. he extends a hand, "hi there, you must be our guests, i'm jo-"

and then recognition flickers over his face and he stops. stares at you, wide eyed, and then his eyes flick over to violet, and back to you.

"hi joel," you say.

if you're honest, you're expecting him to be the asshole you remember. grouchy. closed off. sweet only in private, intimate, brief moments.

what you don't expect is for him to gently call over to ellie with a "we need a minute here, could you take your cousin and see if tommy and maria need a hand?"

cousin, he'd said, and you can feel your heart slow down a notch, calming down a little. oof. one step at a time, you remind yourself, one step at a time.

"sure thing," ellie nods and helps the kid down from joel's lap, holding his hand as they walk through to the kitchen.

you're stood, frozen, as joel takes off his readers, rubs his eyes, and stands up. you've forgotten how imposing he can be, but even now, he just feels like a big shield between you and the rest of the world. you stare at each other for just a moment, and then strong arms are wrapping around you and joel is laughing?

"fuck," he snorts, "i can't believe it's you. after all this time!"

he pulls back but keeps his hands on your shoulders, looking you up and down, studying you.

and then he looks back down at violet and you see his face contort from joy to something almost like fear. maybe dread, even? or anticipation.

"mama, who is this man?" violet asks, tugging at your sleeve, and you kneel down to her.

you meet eyes with joel one more time before answering her, and you see building panic behind them.

this was, admittedly, a lot. one step at a time. "his name is joel, he was a friend of mine. i knew him before you were born!"

violet extends her little hand out towards joel. "my name is violet, it's a kind of flower. i like your hair. it's sooo silvery."

you snort involuntarily, and joel gulps audibly, wide-eyed, before taking her small hand in his large palm, cradling it as if holding something precious, and shakes it. "i'm joel. it's nice to meet you."

you all have dinner and it's actually a pretty good time, as long as you don't make too much eye contact with joel, who looks as though he has an electric current running through him, keeping him wide eyed and twitchy. he's clearly trying to appear unfazed, but he's jumpy and not at all subtle, to the point that the kid who'd been on joel's lap earlier, rowan you'd learned, prods at joel at one point in the meal. joel jumps a mile and rowan furrows his brow asking why are you being so weird, uncle joel?

despite the tension, it's so domestic. this was a joel who folded his napkin on his lap before starting to eat, who minded his manners, and obviously pressed ellie to mind hers, too. the joel you patched up when he came to you bloodied and bruised felt like a shadow long since past.

after dinner, when you've made it through unscathed, tommy's watching the little ones as they conk out on the couch. maria's going over paperwork, and ellie's tuning a guitar.

joel pops his head into the room and makes a vague gesture indicating outside. "wanna chat on the porch?" he asks, and you nod and follow him.

there are a pair of handsome adirondack chairs and you each take a seat. you don't say anything, don't even look at one another. you just sit there in comfortable silence.

but then joel takes a deep breath and you know the question that's coming.

"violet?" he asks, "is she mine?"

you smile sadly.

"yeah," you say, "you're her daddy."

he chokes out a strangled noise and tries to cover it with a cough, badly.

he doesn't seem like he's gonna say anything, and you reckon he's not gonna, so you try and breeze past it.

"i know- i know it wasn't part of the plan." you exhale, "but it's okay, joel. she's only known one parent her whole life and it's common enough these days that she doesn't think it's strange. and i don't know if you ever want her to know that you're her dad, but i'm not ready for her to know. i'll tell her, but i want her to settle in here before any big life revelations come up for her. jackson's enough of a change as it is."

he nods slowly, coughs out a low "i understand. and i respect it. i just never thought-"

"neither did i," you cut him off, "and when i realized i was pregnant i didn't intend to keep it, but fedra had raided the last underground clinics that i knew about. most of the staff got hanged, and i was out of options."

he lets out a sharp exhale.

you're silent for another minute before joel speaks again.

"i'm sorry-" he says, "i'm sorry that your choice was taken from you. and i'm so sorry i wasn't there for you."

he still doesn't look at you, but he rests a hand on your knee.

"i can't believe- all this time and i have another daughter and i had no idea."

"she's such a cool kid," you tell him, "and don't get me wrong, i felt like the worst person in the world, bringing a kid into that fuckin'- fedra plague world," you admit, "but she's so funny, shy when you first meet her, but she has so much personality. every day, she's more and more of a tiny person! and she's just started doing this thing where i'll tell her something and she'll just scowl at me and she looks just like you-"

"hey, i don't scowl that much-" joel argues, scowling, and there's the joel you remember. all of a sudden you're hysterical with laughter, and then joel cracks too and he's laughing with you.

after a while, you fall into another comfortable silence. it gets later and later, and then joel's standing up and offering you a hand.

"'fraid i've got patrol in the morning, so i'd best be going to bed soon, and i'm guessing y'all are exhausted?"

you nod, feeling as if acknowledgement of it suddenly made it true. good god you were tired.

"you know what house you're staying in tonight?" he asked, and you tell him the number.

"sounds good," he nods, "can i walk ya home?"

"sure," you smile.

you head back inside, scoop up violet, and then the three of you are heading towards your temporary lodgings.

when you arrive, joel bids you goodnight at your doorstep and bobs his head a little as though he was about to lean in to kiss your cheek but then thought better of it, and instead takes your hand for a moment and mutters without looking directly at you, "it's really great to see you, baby. glad you made it here safe."

you go to bed. an actual bed, mind you.

you dreamed of joel miller.

you'd pretty much decided you and violet would stay here in jackson from the first minute you walked down the main street, but you gave it a few days before letting the council know. this is what you've been looking for, though. a home. a community. safety.

violet starts going to school. she's in the same year as rowan and apparently thrilled about it, so you're at tommy and maria's home more often than you'd imagined. you start patrolling, too. just short routes to begin with, but you didn't make it through this much without knowing how to survive, and you're good at it.

and then there's joel.

he's different.

he's aged, but he still looks great. the salt and pepper of his hair has turned more salt than pepper, and the crinkles by his eyes are deeper. you're still attracted to him, so attracted to him, but you don't wanna make any rash decisions. he seems lighter, clearly taken by ellie, and cautiously friendly towards you and violet.

he's made it clear he'd like to get to know her, but is happy to take his time, waiting until you're more comfortable with it. which is so beautifully, frustratingly thoughtful.

you never expected that cold, angry joel could be so warm and open, but he seems like such a doting family man, keeping an eye out for ellie, always there for tommy, being a good uncle for rowan. there was clearly some tension between him and his sister-in-law, too, but one evening you walked in on them doing dishes together, singing along to some old dolly parton cd. you slipped out the door before either of them saw you'd seen.

one night, violet and rowan are having a sleepover, supervised by tommy, and you have a rare night to yourself. you make your way over to the tipsy bison and relax at the bar, letting the whiskey warm you.

you chat with the bartender, and decide to put a song on the jukebox, but as you get up from your stool you knock the whiskey bottle over and watch tumble seemingly in slow motion before being caught by- "joel?"

"easy now," joel smiles, "don't want a repeat of last time."

it takes you aback for a moment, and then your face is burning with the memory.

"can't believe you remember that," you say, and he snorts.

"course i do. that was the last night i saw you."

he pulls out a stool and sits down next to you. gestures at the bartender for a glass, and pours himself a healthy finger of whiskey.

"how do you remember that night going?" you ask.

joel scratches at his cheek for a moment, pondering, and smiles, sipping his whiskey. "i was gonna be leavin' town, and i wanted to say goodbye so i checked out all your usual spots. walked in to see you smash a bottle and then try and flirt your way out of it with that weedy little bartender."

"i remember that bit, too," you say, "though on my end, i'll remind you, i was drinking because i was preemptively missing you and didn't realise you were leaving so soon."

"i do remember you saying that," joel nods, "and i was so mad because i'd spent so much time that night trying to find you, and that was time we wouldn't get back."

your eyes widen at his words. you didn't know this part. suddenly, you feel a warmth rising in you that you hadn't expected.

"do you remember what happened next?" he asks.

you nod. "yeah, you yelled at me a little, implied i was a whore, yelled at me more, and then told me you were leaving in the morning."

"jesus, i'm an asshole," joel says, and you smile.

"yeah, you are. neither of us were at our best though. but then we had one last night."

"one last night," he echoes.

neither of you say anything for a minute, and then joel breaks the silence.

"i'd be lying if i said i hadn't replayed that night over and over again in my head."

you smile. "me too," you admit, "it's honestly been a while since i've been with anyone, and when it's just me and my hand, that night's the first thing that i think of."

joel inadvertently chokes and splutters, dabbing at his mouth as he tries to collect himself. he's flushed a beautiful shade of pink and it makes you giggle.

"shit, girl, i forgot how blunt you can be."

"i think this might be the first wholly honest conversation we've had since i got to town," you ponder, still smiling, "we're always dancing around each other. in orbit but never colliding."

he looks at you with a curious expression on his face, like he's enjoying the task of trying to parse you almost as much as he's seeking an understanding.

you pour yourself another glass of whiskey and knock it back in one. you're gathering your courage. you're plotting plots now, and sure it's been a long time, but you figure it's worth a shot.

"i've been thinking, joel," you tell him, and his eyes are so focused on you, "i wanna say up front i don't have any expectations, and i won't be offended if you'd rather not-"

he raises an eyebrow at you and you could swear you see flirtation behind it.

"but, if you wanted-"

"spit it out"

"that last night doesn't have to be the last night."

your eyes are locked and don't speak, don't move, don't breathe.

and then joel miller's lips are crashing into yours, and you moan into him, one hand clutching at your shoulders, the other cupping your chin, and you melt into it.

"my place," you tell him, "violet's with her cousin tonight."

you realise that's the first time you said those words like that, so casual and normal, and you know you'll need to unpack that later but joel, shockingly, takes it in stride.

before you know it, you're walking up the porch steps with joel right on your heels and unlocking the front door.

you've barely gotten the door open before you're on the other side of it and it's slamming shut, joel pressing you against the threshold and kissing you deeply. one of his thighs presses between your legs and without thinking you rub up against it.

"shit, i've missed you baby," he says, and you're moaning against him as he helps you pull off your shirt, and you start to unbutton his. he continues, bashful, "didn't think you'd want an old man like me, anymore."

you scoff, "you've aged well, joel, and more than that, you've aged. you're still here and i can't even begin to tell you how much that means."

you tug the flannel from his shoulders, letting it drop to the floor behind him before you pull off his undershirt.

"besides," you tell him, "you're the best lay i've ever had and i don't believe for a minute you've lost your touch."

he snorts, but then he's kissing on your neck again and you know you'll need to talk about things properly at some point. for now, though, you'll get lost in the feeling of him.

you're lost in the dizzy haze of touch. joel's hands are all over you, grabbing, stroking, caressing. you stumble to your bedroom, stepping out of your jeans and helping him shuck off his pants along the way. then he's laid out on your bed, bare except for his boxer shorts, chest heaving and cock straining.

you yank off your panties and climb on top of him, straddling him so your bare pussy rubs up against his hardness. he groans and grabs you by the hips, rocking you up and down his length.

"feel so good, baby," he breathes, and his eyes are fluttering closed in pleasure. "come here," he tells you, and he pulls you down for a kiss.

you take him in. look at his body. his chest hair has greyed, and he's got more scars than you remember including a nasty-looking one that must've been a close call. you run a thumb over the one on the side of his chest, still pearly but less pink these days, from the time you patched him up.

joel watches you watch him. "i never thanked you properly for that, sweetheart," he says, "but thank you. you saved my ass that night."

"of course," you tell him, as you dip down and lick a stripe up from his happy trail, all the way to his throat.

"fuck," he whines, and you shut him up with a kiss.

when you finally break, he strokes your cheek. "sit on my face," he tells you, and you don't need him to ask you twice.

you hobble up on your knees and then rest your cunt on his open mouth. he lets out a strangled moan and hmmms into you, the vibrations hitting your clit deliciously, before grabbing onto your hips and eating you like a man starved.

his clever tongue finds your aching clit and flicks against it, hard. once you're nearly overstimulated, he senses it and starts to lick long strokes, back and forth, dipping into your drooling pussy with each pass.

it's heavenly. addictive. you've hooked with old flames before, years after you'd slept with them last, and not only does joel not disappoint? he blows your fucking mind.

you come on his tongue and instead of pulling away, he pulls you closer. licks you deep. takes a breath and tells you "one more, baby, gimme another one."

you do, using his face to get yourself off, taking your time to build back up, rocking your hips over him, his nose covered with your slick, his cheeks, lips, and chin glistening so pretty when you finally shudder and spasm all over him.

"taste so good, baby," he tells you, "i wanna make you come on my tongue all night long."

"as much as i'd love that," you say, "i need that cock in me right fucking now. it's been seven years, joel."

he smirks, but doesn't need persuading.

he flips you over and presses his cock head at your entrance. before he slides in, though, he takes a moment to look you over.

you know you look older, and your hair has a few grey strands throughout. you've got more wrinkles, and stretch marks, and more than a few new scars.

before you can second-guess yourself, though, joel is stroking a hand along all of your perceived imperfections, adoring.

"so fuckin' beautiful", he whispers, "after all this time- i can't believe-"

you let your hand lace through the hair at his nape and give it a gentle tug. he closes his eyes, focusing only on the sensation, before opening them again. looking directly at you.

you're already so wet and worked up, he slides into you easily in one stroke, making you both gasp, and he just rests there for a moment, fully sheathed in you.

you clutch one another as he starts to thrust into you, pressing you open in a delicious stretch.

he fucks into you and then pauses and readjusts. moves your legs so they're on his shoulders, rather than wrapped round his waist. then he presses into you again, tentative, and your eyes practically roll back. it's the deepest thing you've felt.

"takin' me so good," he praises, "i feel how wet and ready you are, you've been needing this a while, huh?"

you can barely speak, only enough to breath out a whiny uh-huh that makes him chuckle.

"touch me", you beg, and he does, rubbing his thumbs over your nipples, gripping your waist, your hips. he grabs at your ass and jiggles it before giving it a swat that makes you giggle, but he looks positively feral.

"this fuckin' body," he groans, and you squeak as you take a particularly deep thrust and he eases up just a little.

you reach up to grab his jaw and kiss him, and he kisses you back, deep and lovely. you drag your tongue along his jawline and pepper kisses down his neck, trace your fingertips along his pearlescent scars.

"god, joel," you moan, "so fuckin big, you feel so good."

"you even feel better than i remember, too."

"don't you dare stop, don't you dare stop fucking me-"

"never, baby. wanna have you like this always."

you can feel your eyes fill with tears, overwhelmed with the sensation, with the tenderness and the care and the big cock fucking deep into you, it's all so good.

"yes baby," he grunts, "keep it open for me, good girl, letting me fuck you so nice."

you can see how his eyes are glittering and know he's emotional, too. he's staring at you with reverential awe that might embarrass you if it didn't feel so right. this isn't the rough, hair pulling, choking, biting sex you remember from him. he presses a hand over your belly and rubs gentle circles against it. his touch is electric.

"can't believe you made it," joel whispers, "made it all the way here, and you still want me. we've got a kid, and i left you all alone, and you still want me."

"always, joel," you tell him, and you realise it's the truth. whatever life you make for yourself, you want joel miller in it.

he lets out a growl and starts fucking you harder, deeper.

your orgasm builds quickly and soon you're clutching at his shoulder, leaving half moon crescents in his skin where your nails dig in, holding on for dear life.

"i'm gonna come," you tell him, and he holds you through it, his pace steady as your walls clench around his cock.

his hips begin to stutter as he loses his rhythm, nearing his own climax. he chokes out, "where do you want it?"

"my chest," you say, "come all over my tits."

he pulls out and strokes himself twice before spilling out on your chest, his cum landing on you in hot ropes.

after you catch your breath, he gently cleans you up and then pulls you into the crook of his arm, holding you close. you lay there together, just breathing.

"so gorgeous, momma," he says.

"not too bad yourself, daddy," you tell him, and he snorts.

you know you have a lot of things to talk about. the past seven years. the future. loss and love. violet getting to know her father.

for now, though, joel miller is in your bed and you're going to cherish every minute of it. it's more than enough.

[morganbritton132]

I come to you humbly to ask that Joan the disservice cat gets a redemption arc. I read a story once about a cat that was so noisy it lead rescuers to its missing elderly owners. Maybe while Eddie is gone something happens health wise to Steve and while Ozzy absolutely has the situation locked down Joan goes and finds a neighbor (Diane?) And yells until she follows her back to the house. Steve is absolutely fine but embarrassed that his arch-nemesis was the one that helped him and Eddie copes by making increasingly unhinged jokes about how Steve is so passive aggressive and dramatic he literally tried to die (he was not near death at all) while Eddie was playing in Las Vegas.

Right out the gate, I wanna say that I love this. It’s so freaking cute. Joan doesn’t really need a redemption arc because she really is a sweet cat. She just got bad editing and she doesn’t care about her bad reputation *guitar riff* but that being said, absolutely yes.

Eddie found Joan in a storm drain one night when it was raining really hard and brought her home. She was so young that he had to bottle feed her until she was old enough so Joan does love Eddie, but she loves him the way a rebellious teenager does  - with all her heart but also with a healthy dose of mischief. She loves Steve like a baby that needs looked after.

They already had Ozzy by the time they got Joan, so she grew up watching the way that Ozzy interacts with Steve and kind of mirrors those interactions in the same but distinctly cat-like manner.

It’s not a big seizure.

Steve will say later that it wasn’t a big seizure, but it happens during meal prep and he’s holding a knife. It’s not even two minutes – probably – but he’s holding a knife and when it’s over, he’s bleeding. It’s a lot of blood all at once and Steve is probably fine, but he’s a little bit woozy. A little exhausted. He’s also probably got a bit of PTSD about seeing a lot of blood all at once on account of the time he saw his future husband nearly bleed to death in the arms of his pseudo-son/little brother.

It results in Steve sitting on the kitchen floor with a rag held to his cut hand as it gets more and more saturated with blood while Steve tries to claw his way out of a bad memories and bone-deep exhaustion. Ozzy obviously tries to take care of Steve while he’s distressed – he’s trained to do so, but it takes time.

Diane is the perfect person for Joan to go to because Steve does not like her. Steve thinks that Diane treats him like he’s ‘delicate’ and that she knows all about epilepsy because she used to work with a woman whose son was epileptic. She treats him the way that some people treat pregnant women, like he shouldn’t do anything because of his condition. It drives him insane, but Joan is a cat. She does not pick up on that.

She knows that Diane is a woman that has been at the house multiple times and that interacts with Steve. There’s no one in the house for Ozzy to alert, so Joan wiggles herself through a cracked window and makes her way down the street.

She is obviously not going to the neighbor across the street, Dan, because his house reeks of dog. Diane is not Steve and Eddie’s immediate neighbor, but she is the one that Joan goes to and meows loudly on her front porch. She is scratching the hell out of her front door when Diane finally answers it to see what the ruckus is all about.

Diane recognizes Joan as Steve and Eddie’s cat, so she ends up following her back to their house just to return the cat. Steve never remembers to lock their back door so that’s now Diane gets into the house.

Once Steve comes out of the post-ictal fog, he’s mortified that his least favorite neighbor managed to get him into a car on its way to the hospital and was talking to his husband on his phone. It’s mortifying. He’s fine. It’s a small cut that requires three unnecessary stitches.

Diane keeps going on and on about that sweet little guardian angel of a cat of theirs and Eddie declares in all his flamboyant fashion that Joan has graduated from a disservice cat to a service cat (this is revoked the first time she trips Eddie on the stairs). He even posts a picture on the Corroded Coffin official Twitter page of Steve asleep with his wrapped-up hand and Joan curled up on his head. He captions it ‘my hero’ with three emoji hearts.

He clarifies later that he’s talking about the cat, not the extremely sexy man underneath.

<- Last Post | Next Post ->

[honeyhive65]

LIST OF MONSTERS/CREATURES FOR PUNCH OUT

Someone said I should post the list. I know it was one person but I wanna do it. I’ll also make concepts for their contender and TD matches (I only have joes which I’ll probably put here)

MINOR CIRCUIT

Glass Joe- originally was the only other human. Got turned into a vampire after trying to help someone near an alleyway. Woke up in the dumpster and still trying to adapt. Unfortunately never told his doctor about his predicament (he has woken up in the morgue multiple times).

Von Kaiser- a monster similar to Frankenstein monster. Some scientists wanted to create a boxer using the body parts of some of the best boxers they knew. Unfortunately the product did not meet their expectations and is sitting comfortably down in the minor circuit.

Disco Kid- a friendly zombie who recently rose from its grave. No memory of his life but recently rediscovered boxing, disco, and Micheal Jackson. Managed to be so inspired by thriller he likes to break it down right there in the ring. He’s a bit stiff but he’s still got that spirit in him.

King Hippo- nobody really knows why he came from the sea to land JUST to box. Maybe someone threw an old poster into the ocean and made its way to him. This sea beast may not speak any human language but he sure knows how to throw a punch. Stole clothes from a drowned sailor however the pants are a bit loose even on him.

MAJOR CIRCUIT

Piston Hondo- some people mistake this spirit for a yokai, however he’s just a regular looking ghost. In his life he was an excellent boxer. Most knew his training methods were extreme but nobody ever thought that he’d take “train til you drop dead” a little too seriously. Still he manages to haunt the WVBA determined to keep boxing.

Bear Hugger- he may seem like a human at first but there’s always that one day most people avoid taking a match with him. From evening to morning on a full moon is when his schedule is almost always free. Most people don’t want to get clawed by a werewolf but there have been a few who tried…let’s just say the results in the hospital weren’t pretty. (NOTE: despite the species rivalry, he’s actually pretty good friends with Joe. Being someone who was a human himself he tries his best to give as many tips as he can to adapt)

Great Tiger- a genie who tricked its master into freeing him, tiger now spends his freedom here in the WVBA. He never gives a straight answer for why he wanted to spend his free time here of all places but hey he’s happy at least. Enjoys human opponents the most since they’re the most easy to mess with.

Don Flamenco- did he come from outer space? Was he given a little too much fertilizer? Or perhaps he is just a nymph who lied about his origin. Don was a rose who somehow gained sentience and has taken a more humanoid form. The best way to find out how to be more human to him? Well boxing of course! He may be carnivorous though so watch your back.

WORLD CIRCUIT

Aran Ryan- with Joe now being a vampire, Aran has taken the place as the only human contender in the WVBA…at least before Mac joined. Despite this he seems just as freaky as the others. His superstition keeps him from bonding with the other boxers and maybe even some humans that occasionally join. He gets a little…paranoid.

Soda Popinski- Seeing an advertisement on the WVBA, this abominable snowman quickly left home to check it out. Coming out from his home, he quickly discovered his love for boxing and sugary sodas. It’s however too hot for him to look presentable so all he wears most times is a speedo.

Bald Bull- A Minotaur who’s been at the WVBA for what seems to be forever…at least to most people here. Some don’t even know when he joined and others never bothered to ask. Only exception is doc but he never seems to want to talk about it. He tends to enjoy time alone so best not to bother him or else you might find a horn in your chest.

Super Macho Man- Most people have to avoid being in the front of him and sometimes the sides due to one of his so called signature moves. Macho is a trans gorgon who thought that going into a sport involving punching one’s face was a good idea. You really couldn’t afford his sunglasses although best not to break them. You could end up cold as stone if you do. Where do you think all those decorative statues came from?

Sandman- not much is known about his species but he claims to be something called a dreamcatcher. A creature who can manifest dreams into reality. Nobody knew about it before he came along but what does matter is he seems friendly enough and has even taken a liking to that Gorgon just below his rank (SURPRISE SUPERSAND RAAAAAAH sorry. Also credits to @wvbaandtheboys for making the species/creature I used)

Okay that’s all also I’ll probably also make tempered glass for this. Why? Cause I can and I like the ship so I have to feed myself somehow. Also here’s the concept for joes contender and TD.

Contender- Mac got lucky and doc managed to talk Joe into a day match. A good beginning for someone’s career for Joe is a bit sluggish and looking like he’s on the verge of passing out. He may not burn up in the sun but it sure does exhaust him. Constantly drinking a mysteriously red substance during intermission.

Title defense- His poor unassuming doctor can’t understand how Joe keeps coming back from the dead. His vitals are all off but Joe insists it’s just a cold. His doctor decided to put him on a different diet to help him be healthier and maybe put some weight on those bones of his…unfortunately the doctor gave Joe a not so vampire friendly diet and Joe as slowly gone in a more crazed state from it. For the safety of the other boxers, the WVBA graciously gave Joe a makeshift muzzle from a helmet and something attached. He’s faster and more unpredictable in this state and will try and lunge at opponents to get something in his starving state. Not even the sun can stop him from getting a meal but hey the helmet protects his head at least! Just…try not too hit it too hard or that piece covering his mouth might detach.

[veintrry]

winter greetings and their departures.

wanderer x gn!reader, sweet & soft fluff, emotional angst, loss, memory loss.

warning! minor spoilers for wanderers backstory and major spoilers for 3.3 sumeru story quest. 4.3k words.

an: hi this is me b4 writing this and i feel like this is gonna ruin me.

edit: I'm ruined. I hate everything. part 2!

There was never much that Winter would bring to Snezhnaya, after all, it was always winter here. From the piping hot delicacies, the layers of clothing, the deep inches of snow. You practically didn't need to wait for Winter to come. However, what it does bring is gifts, and one day you received a puppet at your doorstep, unbeknownst to you that is.

A couple of weeks ago you had found a boy slumped up against the wall of your house. Seeing this as you hummed to yourself planning to spend the day shopping, you obviously were surprised at the figure that donned a large hat and light clothing sat unconscious against the wall. At first you had assumed that maybe it was a drunk who didn't know better, however, after feeling his temperature, you decided to leave the pondering for later.

After a tough struggle of getting him into your home, you laid him on your couch, draping him in multiple blankets. Immediately after doing so you put a hand to feel for his pulse but nothing came through and panic surged through your body. You tried feeling for his heart but nothing beat underneath your palm and there was no sign of his chest ever having been raising up and down, even back when you found him outside. Had he died out in front of your house that long ago? You felt guilty for not being there soon enough but you were wondering just for how long had he been out there? Why did no one help?

You didn't exactly know what to do till you saw him open his eyes, sending your body stumbling backwards as you yelped form the horrifying sight. He's dead. He's meant to be dead. "Who the hell are you?" This doesn't happen to dead people does it? God, please, what possession occurred within your home? "You're alive?" You inched near him. "Of course I'm alive, have you ever seen a dead person before or should I show you one?" Despite his threats you were relieved to know he was well, "Oh my god, you're alive." You say as the weight leaves your shoulders. "I couldn't feel your heartbeat so I thought you had died by now." You don't notice the way his face scrunched at your words.

"Who are you?" You know, he was awfully direct for someone who was drunk prior. "I'm the person who had to drag you out of the freezing cold." You tell him your name as you expect a form of thanks or emotional gratitude but it never comes. "Do you want me to get on my knees and pledge loyalty to you?" Maybe you should've left him to die.

—

But you didn't, that's why you were here now, eating dinner together like you do every day.

You came to find that the young man, who's name you came to find out is Scaramouche, was not as bad as you thought he was despite his horrible personality. In fact, he was good company once you adapted to his way of speaking. He clearly isn't as direct about his emotions as you thought he was.

You would say you two had become good friends since the incident that occurred, although, he's never really told you how he ended up there. You always thought he was too embarrassed to admit what occurred, after all he has a lot of pride, but you've come to realise he doesn't enjoy alcohol, not unless he seems to be in a bad mood. You never wished to pry onto what happened for him to end up in such a state so you let it be.

"It tastes good right?" The question leaves your mouth excitedly as you expect to be praised. It had been the first time you were the one who made dinner because ever since the first time he met you he decided you were too careless and 'might try to poison him' if he lets you do the cooking. But, after some haggling, you managed to persuade him. Most likely because he seems to have grown a soft spot for you. "It's fine."

Your spoon hitting the bottom of the bowl. A silence overcame the room. The dish before you two was goulash, but not just any goulash, no, it was Your Special Goulash recipe. You had mastered this recipe to perfection, no, more than perfection, it is a goulash so good the Archons would be astounded. "Liar." You bitterly said. "What, you seek more praise?" He spoke, his voice was somewhat laced sweetly with honey as though to further taunt you. "Yes. Yes, I do. This is years of work, it is more than fine, it is magnificent!" You take strong pride in your skills when it comes to cooking and it won't be undermined. "I think it's pretty average." "Average?!" You repeated with astoundment.

One could say you were almost this close to jumping over the table at this blasphemy. He was clearly taking much amusement in your behaviour. "Yeah, I bet I could make a better gou-" His sentence is cut short by a spoon being forced into his mouth and he feels the warm liquid seep into his mouth, the seasonings it carries covering his tongue. His gaze stays stuck to your hands and his eyes are wide. You could easily tell he was astounded and you began to smile happily, but his shock didn't come from what you thought it did. He raised his sights onto you, and your stupid face.

Scaramouche felt his face grow warmer, and it wasn't frustration at your actions but something else. You take note of this and your eyes seem to glimmer, at this he pulls your hand away from him, thereby removing the spoon as he swallows. "So you do like it!" You're so dumb. Such an idiot you are. His hand is raised to his face as he mumbles something but you don't hear him, and you ask him to repeat it, repeat what you know will be the praise you deserve. "I said...It's too hot."

"...What." You stand still, disappointed once more. "It's goulash, it's meant to be hot!" And to your surprise, he mimics the same volume as you. "Well, it's too hot!" "You just don't know genius when you see it!" Taking a seat back down harshly. "Ha! I see it in the mirror every day." Crossing his arms as he bites his bottom lip, as though trying to keep his own resistance against something, making himself appear frustrated despite the colour of his ears. "You wish. Just eat up." You huff, biting your own food.

"Whatever." And he does the same as you, but with each bite he takes he stays more and more focused on what you did. You're so careless. Do you ever think prior to acting? He chuckles to himself, and you raise a brow but don't ask anything.

You both continue to eat peacefully.

—

Scaramouche had begun to act oddly. It's small things he does that have changed.

He used to cling onto you, he wouldn't directly ask for it but you'd give him it and he'd welcome it despite his complaints that you're too touchy, "You better not do this with anyone else." He'd say to you. And whenever you tried to leave his grip he'd pull you back in, asking you what you thought you were doing leaving him like that. He used to always keep you in his sights, he'd stay reading a book somewhere in the room just to make sure he can also keep an eye on you. But now, he seems too busy, too worried, with something, you aren't entirely sure what. You've asked him about his behaviour but he brushes it off, acting as though you're imagining things.

You question why he feels more distant nowadays, why even after having known each other for a long time now it feels like you're back to being strangers. Despite always being the more honest one out of the two you didn't want to admit to him that you missed having him there, with you. Yes, you two still lived together, but, although you don't want to admit it, you missed his touch.

It's an odd thing to say that you lost someone when they're always with you, it's kind of like having an anchor tied to you, yet the rope isn't tied around you, it is in you. You are one.

You wanted to figure out what's wrong, to sort things out. So you decided you'd try again, that you would do your best.

"Scara?" You called, peaking your head into his room. His answer was quick and to the point, not bothering to stare back at you. "What is it? I'm working on something." You pranched towards where he was sitting, attempting to peer over his shoulder, glimpsing at what he was working on before he abruptly hid it. You feel your brows furrow as you bite your tongue. Why was it that he suddenly began keeping things from you? You can recount exactly when it started. It wasn't like he shared everything with you, nor did you expect him to, but he didn't go out of his way like this.

You straightened your back. It was better to simply be straightforward with him. "What are you hiding?" Your voice was flat, there is no reason for there to be anything other than suspicion. "Nothing." Quick as always to cover up, but unlike other times he might have lied to you, this time his eyes didn't meet yours, they stayed focused on the ground.

You fisted your hands, annoyance surged through your body, but another part of you felt differently. You felt disappointed, not in him, but yourself. You somehow felt you had done something to cause this, to have him leave you behind. It felt slightly hollow. How can you blame him when you want to so badly just forgive him for whatever it is?

"Scara," You started, and the words threatened to never continue sounding out, to stay confined in your throat, suffocating you. But once he glanced up at you, anticipation in his orbs, you knew he was aware, aware that he had done something. If so, why hasn't he done anything regarding it? Regarding how he neglected you. You barely eat together anymore, he's too busy. "Please, just tell me, what's wrong?"

Truth is, he did wish to tell you, but then your idea of him would shatter. Everything you saw would fall apart. He can't have that, he doesn't want you to hate him, he can't take that. "Is it something I did?" No, no, no. God, no. He finds himself denying it repeatedly in his mind, the guilt seeping into his body, realising that you might have been blaming yourself the entire time. The last thing he'd want is for you to denounce yourself in his stead. He knows what he's doing. He knows what he has been doing to you and he knows it's cruel and awful, but he has to, he has to. He's done worse so why was this most bothersome for him?

"Did I ever say that?"

"No, you didn't. But, what else am I meant to think." You were the one who suffered the consequences of his actions. He expired a heavy breath, before admitting his thoughts, putting aside his usual act. "You're right. No, you didn't do anything. You never did. I'm simply caught up with some stuff."

"What stuff? You keep saying you're busy but you never tell me what. I'm… starting to get worried. I don't know what you're doing but if you have to go out of your way to hide it from me then it mustn't be good."

He didn't respond, only blankly blinking at you. It was hard to figure out what he was thinking till he stood up, his following words cut through not only the tension that had built up but you as well.

"I plan on leaving."

"What, where?! Why?!" You couldn't wrap your head around why he'd make such a plan, or why he would have to, nevertheless want to. "I have something I need to do. It's important to me." Important to him. Important to him? Why had he never mentioned it and why does he only bring it up now. He still continues to be discreet about his actions despite clueing you in with small tiny drops of information. But you didn't want the info, you wanted to know when it would end. "Then is it more important than you and I?"

It was as important on its own as he was. And since they were tied, if he were to say it is then he'd be saying he's worth more than you. He wouldn't want to put you down. No, you meant the world to him, you were so beautiful, you were wonderful and full of life but in a way he felt like he didn't deserve it, he didn't deserve this warmth, your warmth. You were the world but his vision was much bigger, he was a god, this is his birthright. If you'd listen to him, if you could understand, if you could trust him. Trust him blindly without a second thought. That's what he wishes to ask of you, he doesn't want to cause you any more pain but this is necessary for him to achieve. "Yes. It is."

He didn't need to hear your words to know how you felt, every part of your face said it. The misery, the burning, aching misery that swirled within those orbs of yours. How your body tensed, your jaw clenched tighter, and your brows raising higher in astonishment. A laugh leaves your throat, a scratchy bitter chuckle, and he hates it. "I see. Okay, I get it." It was clear he had already decided to dispose of you, that whatever this other thing was is more valuable, it matters most, not you. You feel as though you've been shot, the emptiness filled with disappointment and shame at him and yourself for ever thinking he'd have chosen you. You step away, and move towards the door. He says your name, it sounds almost pitiful, and you are hesitant to glimpse at him. You're weak, at this point what do you have to lose. You both know the end.

So you turn, you face him once more. Now you are the one to observe him, watch the way his face scrunches at your expression, how his fists are clenched. His mouth agape as no words leave his mouth yet you see it in his eyes, how he pleads you to stay, begs you to forgive him. You wish to think it isn't how he said it was. Scaramouche always had a tongue that defied his thoughts. But you wanted to hear him say it was you. It never came. No words came. Nothing but silent mouthing, as though he was whispering to you, knowing that if he spoke his voice would break. 'I love you.' And you see the way his shoulders drop, his orbs following the slightest of movements you make. You can't find it in yourself to say the words back. You only gaze at him as though he was the worst man you had known, and he might've been. To your disdain, you didn't hate him at that moment, you pitied him, and you hated yourself for feeling sympathy for that man.

You left without a word said, but you both knew each other well enough to know what you both were thinking.

After that, everything was quiet. There was no more tension. You didn't bother asking the Archons or a deity for help. What good would it be to ask a higher being for help, does that not only prove how dire your situation is, how pathetic it is? You didn't need the Archons, you will adapt as you always do.

One day, everything became all the more quiet. And you realised how much comfort you took in his company. You were truly alone now. It's just you.

You stare blankly at his door. You sit against it like you have done a thousand times, and you pretend he is just working again.

—

Not once did you enter his room. You didn't want to know what he took, because you feel its empty space in your chest, and you didn't care for what he left because you felt it in the silence as you monitored the items he touched for any traces of him like an owl, never blinking.

You were once again at his door, knocking thrice and awaiting any sound to erupt from the room but you only had the peace of no noise return. And yet you hated it, you felt frustrated. To you it was never placid because you could hear your thoughts echoing throughout the rooms, his name tormenting you, following you. How could one forget him, with a face like that, a personality so annoying like that? And yet you loved it; you loved him.

The day he left the snow had already erased all footprints he might've left behind, you would think that maybe that's why you feel his ghost here constantly. But it's likely your delusions.

Today, you'd enter. You wanted to feel him. To remember what it was like to have him. You didn't wish to forget him. The numbing coldness of the metal on your palm became evermore permanent as your hand seemed to refuse to budge. What had he done to have put me in such a state? You think it's funny.

You turn the knob, and push the door open.

White. So much white. The glacial weather was near enough to numb you, but that was not why you stood paralysed. You felt tears twinkle in your vision, before departing and travelling down your cheeks.

Snow. It's all snow.

He had left the window open. God, he probably never left out the door.

You stayed still as you processed this. Your mouth agape as your eyes stayed glued onto the sight before you.

It always snows in Snezhnaya, so why was this so much more painful?

It's torturous. It's horrible. It's pure torment. Yet it is such a beautiful sight to you, it is home to you and you hate it.

Your eyes wander around to where all the snow particles have fled to: The bed he slept on, the cabinets, his desk. The desk he worked at.

You walk closer, you feel your feet dip into the snow. You study his table, only a match, a bottle of ink, and a letter. He left a doll next to it.

You spent the entire day there, cleaning the snow out, and you left everything else untouched as you shut yourself in there just as he had, reading the letter where he had written it and then, you cried. You cried till your weeps went mute. Your attempts to stop your tears continuously failed. You hate him. Every aspect of him. And you hated how well you knew him.

—

'My dear,

I know it's shameful of me to say goodbye like this. I don't want to see what face you make.

I'm going to Sumeru, I'm going to fulfil what I was meant to be. Then, I'll come for you.

I'll be stronger then, I'll protect you from everyone, so this time let me save you instead. Wait for me, I won't take long.

I love you. Next time I see you I'll seriously say it. Thank you and I'm sorry, for all that I caused you. I'll make sure to repent with the rest of my life.

(I hope you like the puppet. It was made for you.)

Yours Truly,

Scara.'

—

It seemed that the weather only grew colder day by day in Snezhnaya. You had developed a pretty steady routine which was unusual for your normal self and today was your special day, today you got to spend a day treating yourself to all things nice. You've worked hard this week after all.

So, you walked out to the hallway dressed and ready to go, hurrying past the guest room and putting your shoes on, wrapping yourself with a scarf as your gloves turned the knob of your door. You leaped out of the house excitedly, only to catch yourself on your foot as you found someone standing at the right of your door.

A beautiful face was what you were met with, you felt the air knock out of you as you stumbled back. You didn't spot how the man smirked at the sight of this, nor would you know the relief it gave him to see you still the same. "Did I frighten you?" He wanted to test the waters, just out of curiosity, just so maybe, maybe it's fine, maybe you're an exception.

"No- I mean, yes? You did. I'm sorry, who are you?" For a second his face dropped into a sour expression, but he returned himself to his previous composer. "You ought to be ashamed. To think you'd forget me after I told you to wait for me." His words were a whisper but despite their gentle tone their weight laid heavy on him.

"Pardon? I couldn't hear you…"

He resented himself for what he was going to say and he was internally cringing and god he hates you for having him say something so dumb, but if this was a sick joke maybe he should appease you.

"I'm just a wanderer, that's all. Sorry, you wouldn't happen to know where I could find the best goulash?"

"The best goulash in Snezhnaya?! That's a hard thing to decide… Well, there's a diner down far by the town's heart. I'm heading there so you could join me if you'd like?"

Kind-hearted as always. An idiot to the core. But so was he for thinking that you'd offer him, a stranger, your secret recipe. Yeah, he should've cherished it when he had it. It was good, really good, and your face was pretty too, stupidly pretty.

He studied your outfit. Layered and thick as always, a contrast to his. You had yourself packed warm but that wasn't what he was focused on, you had a messenger bag strapped across your chest, and off it he saw the puppet he gave you. It was his.

"Where'd you get that?" He asked, pointing at it and ignoring your offer.

You found everything about this so-called wanderer odd. But when he asked about the puppet you had attached to your bag you couldn't quite recall when you got it. "I'm not sure… maybe it came with the bag? Sorry, is there anything else I can help you with?"

"No, nothing else. One thing though," You piped your head up, and he swallowed his pride. He didn't want to lie to you, even if you don't remember it now, he doesn't want to lie to you. But he never realised how much of a difficult thing to say it was, especially when you don't remember. Could he say he loves you, does he have the right anymore?

"Wanderer?"

"I… love you." He could feel that same heat that would always arise within him coming back once fourth. He tilted his ichimegasa down to hide his face, spitting out his next words quickly. "I'll be departing now!" This had been the first time that you knew that you saw him flustered, or that you've met him which made his words more absurd to you, but you felt almost flattered to be told that by someone so pretty. It was such a simplistic way of thinking. Then his words register once more, and you look at the chained puppet, unlocking it as you gaze at it. How alike they were.

How strange, how weird it was, the gaps in your memories, the guest room in your house, the puppet that looks like him, him acting so weird towards you, so casual.

You begin to wonder if this was really a mistake.

—

Despite the flustered emotions he first felt, he quickly let them pass, realising you'd simply think nothing more of him than him being some creep. Ha, to think he'd settle for such a thing so easily.

To think he'd settle for this so easily. What was he meant to do? What should he do? Tears welled within his eyes as he walked, and he hoped that even if the snow covers his trails it never erases what's already beneath.

He made a gigantic mistake. One he has to atone with the rest of his life. Unfortunately, it appears it isn't with you. He was ready to spend the next hundred years being pestered by you. But to be rid of that was an even worse punishment.

The wanderer won't tamper with your life. He wouldn't do such a thing to you. Despite his many wants to, his need to be with you, he won't. Because it is he himself who made himself land in such a position. Maybe rather than having shown up like that he should've recreated everything from the beginning, maybe then you would behave just as your stupid self normally would. Supplying him with warmth, dumb comments, annoyance, affection, care, humanity. Humanity. God, you had already made him a person long ago.

What should he do, what should a lost wanderer do when his home doesn't look at him the same. When those familiar eyes only return an unknowing look, a clueless, foreign stare?

How long does it take to rebuild a home, to rebuild the love you once carried for him?

The snow continues to seep into the room like sand filling up an hourglass. The doors knob has icicles on its insides and the inks long gone solid. All that remains is the opened envelope and the letter it contained, with stained tears. Another tightly sealed letter beside it.

[cbsxreader]

You go to a car rally with the mercs! Pt.1

I was at a WRC rally recently so this was inspired by that

Pt.1 ; Pt.2

Notes: Gn!Reader, can be interpreted as romantic or platonic!

Scout

Rally or motorsports in general is probably his second-favorite sport behind baseball, so you bet he wants to take you.

He makes a point to buy the overpriced food and merchandise, he says that it's a part of the experience. You end up leaving with nearly empty wallets and well-fed on fast food.

Scout insists on getting the front row and getting as close to the track as possible, but when he gets hit with a cloud of dust or rocks, he acts like it doesn't even bother him to impress you and then proceeds to cough his lungs out.

Also he probably gets trampled by a bunch of people somewhere in the whole experience, that's what I imagine could happen at a rally.

It comes back to bite you two in the ass when you realize getting the car as close to the watch area as you could makes you stuck in traffic from everyone trying to leave.

Soldier

As a proud, red-blooded American, of course he loves fast and loud cars, and especially so when they're competing with each other.

Brings his patriotic merch along to show his support and love for rally, it's especially prominent if there are other countries competing in the race. He'll be the one cheering the loudest for the American drivers.

Even if you arrive late, he pushes through the crowd to get you two the front. He also keeps the rocks and pebbles that hit him as souvenirs, no overpriced shirts for him, thanks.

Just keep an eye out for him and be a voice of reason because he might go to do something that's against the whole etiquette of the event like stepping over the barriers where you're not supposed to go.

If you want an autograph from one or multiple racers, he'll go out of his way to push through the line, pull the racers aside just for them to give you an autograph.

Pyro

Pyro would rather watch from a distance, it's a bit overwhelming for them with all the loud noises and closeness of many people around you. Yeah, they're a mercenary, but it's different when they can't do anything about it.

It's better for them to watch the big screen where they fly over the car in a helicopter or it's the drivers' POV and not mind the actual cars driving by.

After the rally, help them clean up their goggles from the dust that hits them.

They will draw a drawing of going to the rally with you afterwards and will keep the attendee bracelets (if the organizers hand them out) for the memory.

Just make sure you're not watching near where the cars start driving. Pyro might get an idea that might...upset the rest of the live viewers and if you lose sight of them, some drivers would not be in for a fun time.

[square-pancake]

Have a Nice Trip (2 of …)

Meanwhile, in the Batcave

(1 of …)

It was 6 PM. Cold and gloom reigned over the city. Patrols weren’t scheduled to start for another 4 hours, but yesterday’s breakout meant Batman, Nightwing, and Robin were all lingering in the cave.

Mr. Freeze had already celebrated his escape, resulting in the snow storm still hitting the city. Fortunately, he was unlikely to do anything more serious without more planning. The focus was on the far more unpredictable threat.

The screens projected a map of Gotham with various points of interest highlighted. Most of the icons were a distinctive purple. All of Amusement Mile was lit up, with darker spots showing past lairs. Previous locations where Batman fought the Joker were pinpointed in green.

The map looked like a poor forgery of a Jackson Pollock painting. Rather than underlying fractals, tracing the Joker’s past actions just revealed chaos.

Bruce had been ruminating for hours. He knew it wasn’t productive, but any time he considered resting, he found himself in front of the glass memorial case. As always, he sublimated his grief and anger.

Silence was pierced only by keystrokes and shuffled paper. Tim avoided meeting Bruce’s gaze. Again, Bruce knew he should offer some reassurances to his young partner. The stink of blood and taste of ashes filled his throat anytime he tried.

Dick wasn’t any better. His clenched jaw perhaps the only thing keeping an argument from breaking out.

Other than bringing down food and drinks, Alfred declined to intervene. Everyone knew he was just as emotionally compromised as Bruce and Dick. Any attempt to reassure them would certainly be heard as falsehoods.

The dark miasma of emotions was finally broken by Oracle.

“Oracle to Batcave, I have an update,” the voice sounded confused even with the digital vocoder preventing most inflection.

“Copy Oracle. Batman, Nightwing, Robin, and Agent A in the cave,” Batman responded. “Should we gear up?”

“Batman, the police scanner is buzzing with this and I just got the preliminary report. Joker’s body was found by Detective Bullock earlier this afternoon. This was kept completely offline until now. I’m still getting info.”

Alfred groped for a chair before collapsing into it. Tim paused, then slowly began to reorganize the papers in front of him.

Bruce froze entirely while Dick immediately began bouncing on his toes, bleeding off a surge of nervous energy.

Nightwing managed to respond first, “Joker is dead?”

“His body was discovered in the Bowery near the library. Neck broken, no sign of foul play, no sign of struggle. Sending you a copy now.”

“If there was no foul play, how was his neck broken?” demanded Tim.

Bruce sat himself in the main control seat and was quickly skimming the report. He summarized: “it appears that the snow hid some debris left over from Two-Face’s last attack. The Joker slipped or tripped on something and landed awkwardly.”

“Are we supposed to believe that?” Tim asked sarcastically. “That sounds like the stupidest cover-up imaginable.”

“Falls are the second leading cause of accidental death globally,” Bruce responded blankly.

“Sure, but not like, fall on the sidewalk and snap your neck, right?”

Dick interrupted the back and forth, “Who cares? Seriously, who cares if it’s a one-in-a-million type accident? This is amazing.” He dashed over to the floor mats to expend more energy.

“No camera footage has been found yet, so all we have is Bullock’s report and after-action photos. Sending over the pictures now,” Oracle continued, ignoring Dick’s spontaneous celebrations.

Photos of the scene and Joker’s body were quickly filling the screens. The alley looked no different than hundreds of others, with perhaps more rubble than typical.

The pictures of the body in situ showed a scene disturbed by multiple people. The head had clearly been moved, probably while checking for life-signs and footprints covered the area. With the continued snowfall it was impossible to tell if the Joker had been alone when he fell.

Blood spatter was inconclusive. The low area of spread indicated that the source was from his face hitting the ground. More angles were needed to be certain though.

Bruce glanced at the medical readings. Temperature from the forensic techs indicated time of death was most likely right before discovery of the body.

“Any suggestion that Bullock could have done this? He found the body so soon after the death, are we sure he didn’t have anything to do with it?”

Nightwing’s voice was breathless from exertion when he answered, “He’s a cop and that was the Joker. He’d be up for a commendation from everyone. If he shot the Joker on sight he wouldn’t even be interrogated as long as there were no hostages at risk. I can’t see any reason why he would deny his role.”

Bruce grunted in pained acknowledgment.

Tim peered over the screen with Bullock’s report. “What about the person who waved Bullock down?”

Oracle’s voice was thoughtful, “you think someone killed the Joker, then immediately flagged down a cop?”

“It would be a good cover,” Tim defended.

“Better than just leaving the body where it might not be discovered for days? Where the snow could cover it?” countered Dick.

“The cold might preserve evidence,” mused Bruce. “This could have been a way to make certain the scene was immediately contaminated.”

Oracle read aloud from the report, “pedestrian standing outside the alley waved me down. Description: male, mid-teen, approximately 6 ft, medium skin tone, light eyes, hair covered by red hoodie. Teen stated he spotted purple in the snow and didn’t want to get closer. Expressed worry that it was a trick. Witness stayed behind the corner of the alley while I approached the body. Cursory inspection using gloves found no pulse or breathing. Initial identification of the Joker. Individual footprints difficult to spot, but no indication of drag marks or scuffling. After speaking with an EMT, witness left without further communication.”

Before Bruce could interrupt, Oracle continued, “addendum: I saw no person in the alley or exiting the alley. Witness was outside the alley. No other pedestrians on the street. No camera coverage of far end of the alley, possible exit point for any other witnesses or victims.”

Bruce hummed quietly, “let’s see if we can track down the witness, but keep it very quiet. I don’t want any of Joker’s surviving people to get to him.

Oracle, Robin, see if we can’t spot him on cameras outside the immediate area. Tall and in a red hoodie isn’t a lot to go on, but it’s something.”

“You think the kid did something?” Asked Tim softly.

“No, a young teen vs. the Joker?” Bruce suppressed the memories of his own son’s fate under those circumstances. “I think it more likely that a potential killer exited the far side of the alley. But he may have witnessed something and not even realized the significance.”

Again Dick interjected, “or, and hear me out, this really was an accident. One that went in Gotham’s favor for once. The kid literally saw a pile of purple clothing, freaked out like most Gothamites would, but was still contentious enough to tell someone.”

It seemed so…unlikely. The idea that the Joker was brought down not for his crimes, but in a simple mishap itched at him. Truthfully, he almost resented the idea that the Joker’s suffering was over.

But so was Gotham’s suffering if this really was the Joker. His son’s memory could live in peace without the shadow of his murderer hanging over them all.

“Save the footage but make it low priority,” Bruce finally relented.

“Good,” Oracle responded, “sounds like the kid was already freaking out. No reason to hang a target on his back.”

The three vigilantes in the cave fell into contemplative silence as they reviewed the rest of the photos and reports. It was amazing how much work could be done in the few hours since the body was found.

Initial fingerprint analysis matched as did anthropometric assessments.

The body had clearly been taken to a lab with biological and chemical containment equipment. All personnel were in complete PPE with no skin exposed.

The post-mortem external exam showed only facial abrasions and the clearly broken neck. Examination of the skin revealed the characteristic bleaching, with no sign of makeup or recent changes.

Tim pulled up medical intake photos from Arkham as well as mugshots so they could compare them to the exam photos. “It has been less than 24 hours since the breakout. Batman, unless there was a lot of work done in advance, I don’t think Joker could have put together a body-double this quickly. Certainly not one who matches fingerprints as well.”

Pictures of the stripped clothing revealed a mixture of weapons and chemical agents. Nothing out of keeping with the clown’s usual load-out. Bruce was quietly grateful that there was no crowbar found with the body.

Oracle’s voice broke the silence. “A judge just issued an emergency order. The body is to be treated under the same rules as those for Viral Hemorrhagic Fever outbreaks.”

“What does that mean?” Tim asked.

“Immediate cremation without autopsy,” answered Bruce.

“There is concern about what Joker might have been exposed to or have brewing in his corpse.” Oracle added, “with an obvious cause of death, Judge Wigzell ruled that it is in the public’s interest to limit the threat of contamination. He also ordered that the entire process be recorded and released to minimize public confusion.”

“Can we stop it?” Bruce demanded. “Surely there needs to be a thorough investigation.”

“We have no standing to intervene,” Oracle answered. “We can’t even admit knowing about this without revealing we illegally breached the records.”

At best we may get access to the samples being taken, blood, hair, saliva, and tissue. They are being kept locked down in biocontainment level 4.”

A long pause, then Oracle’s emphatic assertion followed. “I will not aid in any attempt that would breach the biocontainment. Any request will need to go through proper channels.”

Dick placed a hand lightly on Bruce’s shoulder. Startled since he hadn’t seen his son’s approach, Bruce’s lightly covered Dick’s hand with his own. He could feel his son’s fingers shaking slightly. Dick said, “other than confirming identification, I don’t think we should be part of this. Let Gotham see this all in the light.”

“There will be a public outcry,” Bruce snapped. “Moving this quickly looks like a cover-up.”

Tim frowned, “Will there be an outcry? Really? No one is going to openly complain about his body being destroyed other than maybe Harley.” He shook his head, “Nightwing is right. They are recording each step. We can check to confirm the identity of the body, but I don’t think we should do anything to interfere.”

Bruce began to speak when he was interrupted. Still sitting down, face lined with grief, Alfred’s voice was quiet but firm. “No. This is literally the justice system at work. There was a court order and they are trying to be transparent. We cannot claim to trust the system when imprisoning the Joker and then demand our own rules at this stage.”

“The Joker is dead. I for one applaud that his final act had no audience and that he died alone in a cold alley. If you’ll excuse me, I will be upstairs.”

“I’ll keep an eye on the investigation and let you know if anything unusual crops up, Oracle out.”

“What’s the game plan Batman?” Dick asked.

“You just told me not to invest-“

“Not that. Once this is public, the whole city will be celebrating. How do we want to cover this?”

Bruce appeared at a loss, “you really think it will be public? A man did die.”

“No,” Dick’s voice was sharp, “the Joker died. He intentionally left his humanity behind years ago. There will absolutely be open parties.”

Bruce shook off his own assumptions and nodded, “you’re right. Let’s put together an action plan. They won’t be able to keep this quiet for more than 24 hours. No patrol tonight. We need to be fully rested for tomorrow.

Dick, we will need to make a statement. Dickie Wayne is absolutely not allowed to lead a parade.”

Dick’s laugh was half a sob, “fine, but I’m going to announce that we’re paying the tab for all chili hot dog stands and ice cream parlors in the city for three days after the announcement.”

Tim shyly asked, “for Jason?”

“Yes.” When Bruce opened his mouth to argue, Dick snapped, “I’m doing this and you don’t get to stop me Bruce.”

After his other boys had left, Bruce approached the memorial case again. Maybe he could bring himself to remove the plaque. The battle against the Joker at least had no need for more soldiers.