#maybe he gets it & it breaks down or explodes spontaneously as they are known to do

[blueberryarchive]

─୨MISS PEACHES '57୧─

(18+)//tw: drinking, pranking, cursing, light stuff//part 1

The horse trotted to the rhythm of the drums, the festival rumbled in the middle of the dusty nothingness, and the lights illuminated the stadium that seemed to be swallowed by the darkness of the warm night. The moon was hidden by the black clouds that threatened to break, lightning illuminated the mountains in violet, and the smell of a storm was approaching.

Jungkook encouraged the animal to go faster, clicking loudly. Jimin was behind him, with one arm he held onto the younger man's chest, and with the other, he took a long drink of the stolen whiskey.

The night called for things to fall into their hands, the purpose being to create a scandal and wake up that city girl who comes to Rivermouth thinking that she can devour them.

The apple of the Bell Ranch's eye, the star child, the one who left Rivermouth at nine to bring home a crown every couple of months.

The apple of Rivermouth's eye is back, wearing the brightest crown she's ever had. And the Hillside brothers plan to enjoy the show tonight.

With a spontaneous brake, both boys jumped off the horse, pushing people in the audience. Alcohol immunizing insults and judging looks.

"C'mon, Jimin. Hurry up!"

"Fuck off. I told you to bring something gross, ain't you working on Millie's butcher shop?" Jimin opened the lid. 

"Ain't your dad a fucking shepherd?" Jungkook spat, tongue heavy with only a few sips.

"What should I bring? Wool? You fucking idiot." The blonde laughed, grabbing the last drink ready on his strap.

The crowd started getting busier, the lights fading. 

The music started out of nowhere like the first trumpet of the apocalypse, announcing your arrival on stage.

And indeed, there was no prettier girl in all of Rivermouth.

With your pearly smile, high voluminous hair, perfect hands, and the sweetest smile Jimin had ever seen. Not even his mother looked so beautiful, nor did the statue of the Virgin Mary in the church. You were divine, a torment, taken from the same city hell.

"Take more." He heard himself say. Jungkook put his hand into the jelly jar that Jimin was carrying in his trembling hands.

Park's rebellious heart fell into his stomach as he saw you emerge completely from the curtains, materializing from the yellow dust that rose from the arid floor like a Las Vegas show. With smoke and lights and the Bell Ranch's girl dressed as a coquettish sailor. The lights are brighter than before, the sparkling shine of your glitter bow, your freshly painted nails, the sash around your body: MISS PEACHES 1957. Everyone applauded when they saw your hands rise and jump elegantly across the creaky floor.

Jungkook held the slimy mass in his fingers, gaping and wondering.

"Are you sure that's the right girl, Park?" 

"Sure as hell." Jimin licked his lips, feeling a sudden thirst. 

Thunder exploded in his ears just as your smile caught a glimpse of him. Like a sign from the Lord of your arrival, he was sure as hell that you were the right girl. "Why, are you scared, little church boy?" Teased, Jungkook clicked his tongue. 

Was that what girls were like outside of Rivermouth? With long legs and an apotheotic smile?

"Aim..." Jungkook murmured coming out of his stupor, raising his arm, the reddish juice dripping down his wrist and onto his shirt.

It's not that Park felt hungry or wanted to go to the bathroom, nor that he has a fever. He wasn't nervous either, of course not, the alcohol helped him with that. But the southern heat was so strong from your presence that he felt like he could faint if he blinked and missed one of your steps, steps, steps, turn, one, two, one, two, three, four, CLACK! LIGHT! THUNDER!

Jelly spilled from Jimin's fingers, and his heart drummed to the sound of your patent leather shoes.

If he had known that the Bell Ranch girl was going to be you, maybe he wouldn't have stolen his mother's jam, maybe he wouldn't have called Jungkook that night. But it was already late, and his fingers were tickling, his nose was beginning to despise the smell of strawberries that filled his space.

"FIRE!" Jimin yelled as the clack of your feet made his throat burst.

The sweet rained down until it reached your beautiful face, your delicate costume. 

A collective gasp landed Jimin on his feet, at what he had caused. Your smile was gone, your long eyelashes raised above the red. Both boys remained static, confused; as if they had desecrated a religious image.

"Oh, fuck. Fuck! We have to go." Jungkook mumbled hands into fists, eyes on the prize. 

Jimin's eyes were bright, the corners of his lips tremblingly raised as he watched you cry in the center of the stage, the unbearable white lights made your translucent tears shine, and the sweaty makeup made you look like a ruined wax figure. The women who surrounded you to protect you from so much shame. Oh, it was a sight.

If your father wasn't screaming, if Jungkook hadn't grabbed his arm, and if his mother hadn't screamed his name from afar. Jimin would have stayed until his feet swelled just to see you, to admire you until he grew weary.

It wasn't the first time he had made a girl cry, but making Miss Peaches '57 cry had been the greatest achievement for 18-year-old Jimin. Best of all, he didn't even have to move, yell at you, or even pull one of your perfect curls.

The mere fact that he came close to you caused tornado damage to such a wildflower.

They had to run through the blue night, ride through the cold drizzle, and disappear for hours until the festival and you were an intelligible echo behind their cruel, childish laughter.

Jungkook licked his sticky fingers while he looked back. Looking for your silhouette coming down the stairs, defeated in the worst way for a girl: when she thinks she looks her best.

That night, both boys slept in the hayfield of an old cabin, drunk and sticky. They both dreamed of the same girl, and both woke up with goosebumps from the dew of a wet morning and a mischievous smile.

One of them dreamed of stealing a kiss from you, the other of making you cry again.

[i-cant-sing]

Okay, Moon anon was able to contact me and I'm gonna post their chapters 3-6 here.

Daniel and YN 3 🌗🌗

Rainy days are crazy. Some of YN’s best and worst memories were on a rainy day. It was a rainy day when Daniel was born. His parents overjoyed when he decided to join the world early. The Sunny morning turned rainy when they saw something was wrong. The sky was so dark when the doctored explained that their baby didn’t get enough oxygen in the womb or when he came out. That his brain was impacted by the trauma. It took four years for Daniel’s mother to stop blaming herself, four years for her to understand that she couldn’t have known that something was wrong in her womb. Four years when they had their second child. It was a rainy day when YN and Daniel got lost. Holding each other’s hand, tightly they wandered the Kamino Ward. Hoping that their parents would be right down an alley or around the corner. That was a terrible 6th birthday for YN. The steps Daniel left in the dirt started to get deeper and more burnt. The boy slightly started to tremble. “Daniel.. it’s gonna be ok. Momma and Pop are going to find us we just have to-“ “Are you two lost?” A very tall man in a black suit asked. YN couldn’t remember his face, but his voice was eerily calm and smoothe. His head had snow white hair on it. A look at him would’ve left even the hero All Might scared. “ye…Yes. My brother and I can’t find our parents..” ��Oh dear. Well I can help you. They couldn’t have gotten far.” He held his hand to Daniel. And he almost took it had YN not stepped in. “We’re not supposed to touch strangers.” “Oh yes, that’s a very good rule. Well my name is.. Shigaraki. Now what are yours?” “…yn.. and daniel..” “Now we aren’t strangers. Let’s get you two somewhere safe. Your brother’s quirk might level the neighborho-“ “YN! DANIEL!” The relieved voice of their father shouted out. And the two quickly turned away, toward his calls and open arms. Tears running down their faces, swearing to never wander off again. The day was saved. When YN went to turn to Mr Shigaraki to tell him it was fine, he had disappeared into the crowd. But one question lingered in her head. How did he know Daniel’s quirk could be dangerous? It was a sunny day at first when YN and Daniel went out to the park for their Day out. YN had already planned to tell her parents that she wanted to come back here for her 12th birthday in a few months. Daniel kept over-stimulating himself with every single thing that caught his eyes. The anthill, the trees, the way the wind carried the leaves, when he and YN jumped around over the hopscotch drawings. When the rain came down they didn’t want to leave. They wanted to splash in the wetness like a couple of ducks. But Momma was insistent it was time to go back to the apartment. Inside the car YN immediately put on her headphones to listen to nightcore covers of popular songs. It wasn’t until she noticed her mom’s terrified expression and felt her dad’s fear did she take them off. “-I DONT KNOW ITS NOT BREAKING!” “WE’RE GOING RIGHT INTO TRAFFIC! DO SOMETHING!” “..momma?..” “DANIEL! YN GET DOWN!” That was the last thing her mother said to her. The rain hit the car harder. Daniel was quick to cover his little sister as the car swerved towards a large truck. YN felt her brother shield over their bodies. The last thing she heard from her father was a yell. Before they crashed into the truck. Before YN and Daniel were flung out into the side of the road. Scratches beginning to litter their arms and cheeks. YN felt the rain on her face as she tried looking up. Tried finding her parents. It was a rainy day when the last image of her parents was the crushed front end of the car. 🌗🌗

Daniel and YN 4 🌗🌗

The incident at the cafe left a bigger mess then was intended. Of course the waitress didn’t say a word about who caused the mess, still terrified of the threat, but the manager still called the police. At the moment it was being investigated as a break in. It wasn’t until they started to bag the broken vases as evidence did they think to call a hero as they believed this was a terrorist villain trying to strike more fear. When the first cop touch the broken vases he immediately fell over and started seizing. Like someone had sent hundreds of volts up through his gloved fingers and into his blood stream. The second cop tried picking up the glass with prongs so that she wouldn’t get the same effect. But she still felt some pain and volts. Even the glass windows were giving off static. When they were examined no one could find a point of impact. It was almost like they spontaneously exploded. Worse and more confusing yet was the fact that the material seemed to give off radiation spikes. From a computer screen image, it was like a red glow was emanated from the glass. When the police tried to check the cameras, all the footage was either ruined, too melted to gather anything. It left them in a stump. So they had to make a plea to the hero society to get fresh eyes and help on the case. Not expecting any big response. Some heroes wanted to solve the mystery because it stumped them as well. This quirk residue was something unseen before. Calls and emails were left. All saying they would look into it. And it seemed like this would just be a mysterious case left forgotten. That is until the All Might showed up in the station one morning. Along with his protege Deku. They said they wanted to solve the case because if this person left such a dangerous residue after using their quirk, then they were a danger to themselves and others. No on saw the real intentions in their eyes. When they asked about the only other patron in the cafe the police said that they tried tracking them down, but they were gone into the wind. The only other patron at the cafe made their way into a compound. Holding treats meant for a little girl. But first he had to make a stop at his boss’s office. “Hey.. Kai. You won’t believe what Just saw.” Meanwhile in the station two separate rats made calls to two separate people. “Put me through to Shigaraki…. Hello. I have something interesting to tell you. Something that might please you and your Sensei.” “Oh hey there Aizawa. Detective Tsukauchi here. Look I you know about that cafe destruction a week ago? Yea well I think you outta here about this.” Indeed the cafe incident left a bigger mess than intended. 🌗🌗

Daniel and YN part 5 🌗🌗

They’d been gone for at least two months. YN’s feet hurt and Daniel missed his own bed. But they had to keep going, with no intended final destination but a goal to keep away from the previous home they ran from. After the morning at the cafe, YN and Daniel had kept to the shadows for the rest of the day. But they couldn’t keep going like this. They needed to eat today but not at a restaurant. There was only one dreaded… dreaded option. The grocery store. So after they checked in at the latest motel with kitchens in the rooms, the siblings ventured off to the store.YN couldn’t leave Daniel alone yet. He’d panic and probably have a fit. The store was minimally packed. Since it was still early in the day it seemed like they would zip in and out with relative ease. After grabbing the bare essentials, and what she could pack in a backpack without much drag, it was time to go to the candy aisle. It was a long journey thus far, a journey deserving of some sour candies. But of course there had to be another person there. Invading space and looking right at her favorites. She wanted to just grab and go. But her hand and the stranger's hand touched as they reached for the same one. “Sorry. I should’ve watched where I was going heh..” The tall redhead said. A small blush on his face as he rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s fine. Lemme just grab and go here.” She looked back for Daniel, luckily he was close by staring at the varieties of pocky they had. Turning back she noticed his uniform. UA, that might prove to be a complication. But YN was desperate for some kind words and a brief moment to talk to someone her own age. “So you go to UA? Are you a general student or a hero course student?” “Oh hero course definitely! I even have my hero name chosen!” “Wow that’s great. I hope in a few years I get to be saved by…?” “Red Riot!” “Like Crimson Riot?” “Exactly! I really admire him and I hope I live up to his-“ “OI SH**TY HAIR! WE’RE GONNA BE LATE! GRAB YOUR CRAP AND LET’S GO!” A blonde kid shouted down the aisle, also wearing a UA outfit. YN couldn’t place why but she felt like she’d known him before. That volume felt very familiar, but it startled her brother who jumped in fear causing the pocky he saw to fall off the shelving. Time to go now. “I should go anyway. It was nice meeting you.” “Wait, we could walk you and your brother to your school if you guys want?” “We have to go.” The blonde got closer and she could tell something was perpetually up his ass. “Bye.” “Wait! My name’s Eijiro Kirishima. What’s yours?” “YN. Just YN. That’s my brother Daniel.” And before he or his companion could ask anything else the two siblings fast walked toward the checkout and were out the door before they got another chance to talk to them. “YN… huh she was pretty cool right bakubro!” “What ever. Let’s get going before we show up after Deku.” But that name was familiar to him. The girl had long since faded from his mind, but how could anyone forget the day when a quirkless kid tried bashing your head into the dirt. He planned on apologizing the next day for his comments but she was gone. Gone and almost forgotten. It could be possible that this was just someone who shared the same name. But maybe.. possibly.. the universe was giving him the chance to apologize. “YN.” 🌗🌗

Daniel and YN part 6 🌗🌗

YN never really liked her neighbors. She never outright loathed them, but she was uncomfortable with how Inko kept trying to be her mother, and how Izuku had this strange obsessive stare when he looked at her. As long as they stayed in their apartment and never bothered them it would all be fine. But their parents couldn’t watch them all the time. So on days when momma and pop went out Miss Midoryia would graciously watch them. YN never liked pity. So when Miss Midoryia tried to pity and feel sorry about YN’s quirkless status, that just made her dig her heels in longer. She didn’t need people to fuss over her like she was a glass doll. At least with Izuku she could’ve had a companion. She did try to get along with him. But he was so weird. Just because they both were quirkless didn’t mean they’d would be close. “So why are you homeschooled?” “I get into fights.” “Why?” “Because people are mean and they think they’ll have no consequences to their words. I proved them wrong.” “Were they mean because you’re quirkless or because Daniel is… different?” Now obviously he didn’t mean any harm by that. But an emotional 10 year old girl is not someone to mess with. So with a sharp glare to his face the conversation quickly died. In the dining room, Daniel would usually be coloring. Or playing with his legos. Something to stim and distract his mind. Sometimes he’d just pull out a old painting his dad got him, and he’d spend hours looking at the strokes and would mentally add a new feature. Twirling the hair on his head whilst sucking/biting his thumb. “Daniel? Would you like some water?” “No miss. I want momma.” “I know sweetie but she won’t be gone forever. And you call me Inko” Though she’d prefer him to call her something more affectionate. Throughout the night Inko kept trying to mother them. She hovered over YN’s neck and tried petting her head which resulted in a swipe from the little girl. By the time YN’s parents got back, she was relieved and spent the rest of the night complaining to her mom about how she didn’t want to go over to the neighbors anymore and how she felt uncomfortable. Across the hall the two greenettes were enamored with the two kids. Inko adored how sweet Daniel was, how shy he looked to her. Izuku was star struck at this girl without a quirk who was so quick to fight against the norms put in place by a society against them. They'd soon make it a habit to try to talk to the family in the hall, or bump into them on the street. One day, after the family had been gone for a couple weeks, they saw the two with several police officers and a social worker packing away all their belongings. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that something terrible had happened. When Inko offered to watch them, the social worker confirmed the worst and took the children away. Three weeks later, as her son was at school Inko kept trying to find the legal way for her to gain custody of the kids when her door was knocked. Her husband, AFO, on the other side. She tried telling him to go away. Tried saying that he had no part in Izuku’s life anymore. But he had a bigger role than known. “How can you be so cruel my love? Especially now that I’ve opened the door for you to gain what you want?” “What do you mean?” “I’ll help you gain custody of the two children you are craving. I happen to have a fascination with them as well.” “I can’t ever guarantee that we’ll be a whole family ever again.” “Of course not. I wouldn’t expect you to. But let’s try something for now.” So Inko made a deal with the devil, to gain two angels. 🌗🌗

Now that AFO is in the story, I'm like so excited! Great work, Moon anon!

[unpeumacabre]

soaring dragon dancing phoenix - 龙飞凤舞: prologue

Yunmeng is no longer home for Wei Wuxian, for he is no longer welcome. And so when he visits he can always count on Jiang Cheng descending upon his head with the full strength of heaven's fury, to chase him out. But one day when he sneaks into Yunmeng again, days go by without Jiang Cheng making an appearance. Something has happened to Wei Wuxian's prickly shi-di, something that - once they reunite - they will find is far greater than they could ever have anticipated. Accompanied also by Wei Wuxian's dear friend (?) Lan Zhan and a Lan Xichen who has only just reluctantly left isolation, the four of them set out on a journey that will bring them across the greater part of China to the mystical Kunlun mountains of mythology - and more importantly, may bring them love, healing, and reconciliation.

If only Wei Wuxian could take his head out of his oblivious arse and start putting himself in other people's shoes for once...

Rating: Mature

Relationships: Wangxian, Xicheng, Wei Wuxian & Jiang Cheng

Read on AO3 (bc tumblr might mess up the formatting + more extensive author’s notes on the story)

Count: 1.5k

next ->

One year after the events of the Guanyin Temple, and the death of former Chief Cultivator Lianfang-zun.

Lan Zhan!

I agree with what you said about Sect Leader Yao, that old fart. He wouldn’t know a good idea if it bit him on the arse. If I were you I’d have snuck into his room at night and shaved off his eyebrows – but then again, you’re Chief Cultivator, and you have to follow boring things like rules and protocol. Don’t worry, the next time I’m in Pingyang I’ll … It’s a secret! Look forward to the next time you have a discussion conference with that pig-headed old fool.

I’ve finally reached Yunmeng. Little Apple took such a long time to get started from the inn in Jiangling. I think he had a crush on one of the serving girls, to be honest. Even apples didn’t work to drag him away from her. I had to conjure a mirage of her all the way from Jiangling to Yunmeng to get him going – can you imagine that? One of these days I’ll have to find a nice little female ass to keep his little Little Apple happy … Hahaha! I can practically see you rolling your eyes at me now, Lan Zhan. You still can’t take a dirty joke after all.

Anyway, I digress. It’s nice to be back in Yunmeng and be able to pick all the lotus pods I want and to flirt with all the pretty Yunmeng girls, although none of them are as pretty as you are, of course. You’d make a big stir if you came to Yunmeng – you should visit with me one of these days when you’re free! Although I know of course you have responsibilities as Chief Cultivator etc etc but I promise you it’ll be fun! One of these days I’ll come kidnap you. Then Lan Qiren, that old man, would really have an aneurysm, ha! I’d kidnap you just to see his reaction.

Don’t worry about me, I’m talking nonsense as usual. I wouldn’t really kidnap you, unless I was really bored. And Jiang Cheng would probably beat my ass for trying. Honestly, it surprises me that I haven’t had the honour of Jiang Cheng’s company yet. Somehow, he always knows the moment I step into Yunmeng – it’s like he has a spell set up to go off whenever I’m in the vicinity??? And he never fails to turns up for an hour or two just to shout at me, thrash Zidian around a bit and tell me to go back to Gusu. Then he storms off somewhere to drink tea or something. I swear he’s going to die of high blood pressure one of these days.

Well, I expect I’ll see him around. He’s bound to turn up sometime or other. Looking forward to your reply, and counting every one of your twenty words,

Wei Wuxian

***

Lan Zhan!

Thank you for expressing your concern for Little Apple’s wellbeing. He’s eating well (as usual) and living happily in the city stables where I left him. He has a new crush on the stable boy though, but I’m not worried about that – it seems like his affections are as transient as floating smoke and passing clouds. He seems to be like his former master in the sense of being indiscriminate with regards to his choice of partner, which makes me wonder why he’s taken such an intense aversion to me. I guess it’s just the same old story with me and animals all over again.

It’s my third day in Yunmeng, and still no sign of Jiang Cheng anywhere. Perhaps he’s simply busy with some night hunt or other and can’t be bothered to whip my ass into shape. I’ve been visiting his favourite haunts the past few days but no luck – it seems like he’s really busy this time. I’m starting to worry, and although I never thought I’d ever say this, I miss his grumpy ass. It’s been the longest I’ve gone without hearing him call me a fucking idiot, haha!

Anyway I have a funny story to tell! Yesterday I went to investigate rumours of walking corpses at the base of Yunmeng Mountain. Apparently some farmers came across them and ran away but one of them was caught and eaten.

But guess what, Lan Zhan? Actually, it was nothing more than a group of hermits who’d come down from Yunmeng Mountain five days ago after meditating in seclusion for three years, and they were doing their Bagua ritual circle walk around one of the dove trees at the base of the mountain. They hadn’t bathed once in those three years, and so when the farmers came upon them and saw them chanting and moaning and pacing around the tree they were mistaken for walking corpses! Hahahaha how ridiculous is that??? Anyway I cleared up the misunderstanding. The farmer who was apparently eaten fell down a cliff when he was trying to escape from the “corpses” and broke his leg, so the hermits rescued him and patched him up. He was perfectly fine. I talked to them and they seemed like a pretty normal bunch to me – they were quite a big group when they came down the mountain at first apparently but then most of them decided to go down south and back home instead of lingering in Yunmeng. That’s about all the excitement I’ve had so far, I think.

Well, anyway, thank you for the twenty-one words you used in your reply. You have gotten quite adept at teasing me, haven’t you? Looking forward to how else you may surprise me next,

Wei Wuxian

***

Lan Zhan,

No, I don’t think Jiang Cheng fell off a cliff too. As much as you might wish for it to happen, he’s still my brother an important sect leader, you know! Anyway I already checked all the cliffs around the mountain before I received your letter so it couldn’t possibly be so.

Besides, I went to Lotus Pier earlier today – just to check on how things are going, you know, in case they need my help or something, nothing to do with Jiang Cheng. I just stayed outside the gates because I thought Jiang Cheng would probably descend from the heavens on a cloud and break my legs the moment I stepped foot into Lotus Pier, but some of the disciples spotted me and asked me what I was doing there. They said there have been people disappearing just outside Yunmeng, to the southwest and twenty li outside the main city, and when some of the Yunmeng Jiang cultivators went to investigate a few days ago some of them disappeared. So Jiang Cheng decided to take a few more of the Yunmeng Jiang disciples and investigate himself.

Since I have some free time, I’ve decided to help them out. They’ve been gone for four days already – the beast must truly be a handful indeed. It might be fun to go and help, although I think Jiang Cheng might spontaneously explode when he sees my face. Well, maybe the explosion will end up killing the monster, who knows.

It’s quite odd, though; some of the disciples who escaped even said they saw the spectre of Jin Guangyao, that wily old fox, hanging around the cave where they were attacked. Although of course that is impossible, for he is probably still trapped in Nie Mingjue’s coffin, fighting a battle till the end of time. Well, I guess I’ll see for myself if what they saw was true or not.

I had not known that you were capable of silk embroidery. Your skill is indeed fine – as expected of the esteemed Second Master Lan! I shall treasure your gift until the end of time. The cherry blossoms flowered today, and they made me think of you. I wonder if you still remember visiting Tanzhou with me when we were looking for the remaining pieces of the Yin metal? Was it your first time attending such a festival? You looked so surprised by the petals raining down on you then! I miss those times. 

I will write to you again tomorrow when I have rescued Jiang Cheng from the human-eating monster. I will make sure to give you a good account of his face when he sees me there to interfere with his night hunt, ha!

***

Dear Lan Wangji Hanguang-jun Mr Chief Cultivator Sir,

I am writing this letter to you because I know you to be a good friend of Wei Wuxian. Just today, I visited Lotus Pier and found that my uncle has been missing for a week, and Wei Wuxian with him for two of those days. They have apparently gone in pursuit of a human-eating monster twenty li southwest of the main city limits of Yunmeng. It must have been a fierce creature indeed to have ensnared both my uncle and Wei Wuxian

Unfortunately, as I am currently extremely and regrettably tied up in Lanling Jin sect matters, this humble person would like to humbly request for your help in locating and possibly rescuing them. Thank you.

Best regards, yours sincerely and most humbly,

Sect Leader Jin Ling, Lanling Jin sect

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Emp-ire, “Deputy.”

Hope you are all having a good day, and I hope you enjoy the story :)

Sparks leapt into the air vanishing to blend in with the wide expanse of the night sky overhead. Spoons clattered and rattled against cans, as the small group of men sat under the stars eating their meager rations. Adam shifted feeling the weight of his new gun on the opposite hip from his old: McBride’s gun.

The Sheriff spooned another mouthful of ration under his mustache before grunting as if he had remembered something and reached behind him, pulling out a sheathed knife and tossing it over to Adam, “Believe that belongs to you.”

He caught it with one hand, and set the can he was eating from down beside his boot, pulling the knife from its sheath, only to see the familiar decorative glint. He felt his face flush a bit, and when he looked up at the sheriff, seeing the look on the man’s face he knew that he knew.

He opened his mouth to speak, “I am so sorry sheriff, I really had no idea what came over me, I-” The man’s booming laugh cut him off mid apology, “No need to apologize to me boy. That man was nothing better than a crawly little maggot in my book, and deserved a lot more than losing a knife.” He snorted and leaned back in his seat, “Why take it, though, you being such an upstanding citizen and all. Doesn’t seem to fit your profile.”

Adam, still a bit flushed, rubbed the back of his neck, “I…. well.”

That’s when Ramirez butted in, leaning over the fire and announcing in a very loud voice, “To impress a girl.”

Adam turned a sharp glare down on Ramirez who was grinnin fit to burst.

“A girl!” The sheriff exclaimed, “Now that is something, isn’t it. Why don’t you go ahead and tell us about this girl.”

Ramires rolled his eyes,”How about that time he dumped that girl, and decided to pine after her later.”

Adam glowered so hard at Ramirez he hoped he would explode, but when no spontaneous combustion occurred, he simply sighed and slouched down in his seat, “Look, not to get into too many details or seem sorry for myself, but I’m not exactly in a great mental headspace to…. To be dating right now. It isn’t fair to her, and I refuse to drag her into my mess, especially one she didn’t sign up for.”

Around the fire, he could see the other men rolling their eyes largely.

“If she’s any kind of woman, it wouldn’t matter..” One of them said, “A real woman’s always got your back, covers you blind spots, and she’s shooting when you reload. A real woman makes you a better man at the same time you make her a better woman…. Course that is assuming that you are any kind of man.’ Adam blew out through his cheeks long and drawn out, “Very poetic, deputy, but let's assume I’m not any kind of man…. At least not right now, and she doesn’t deserve that.” “And so what, did you hope to find your manhood out here with the roughians and the hooligans.” one of them asked motioning around at the planet behind him.

Adam sighed again, “Actually, no.” he motioned to Ramirez, “that one dragged me out here to cheer me up, but since we’ve been here, I’ve been threatened, had a horrible hangover, been kicked in the face, kidnapped, threatened, fallen off a horse, and been kicked in the face a second time.”

The group of men laughed, “Sounds like a good time!”

They laughed, and he laughed with them.

“Anyway, she likes weapons, loves them actually, any kind, so it made me think of her, and I thought that when I get back, maybe my apology would go better if I soften her up first.”

The men eyed each other, “Or give her a weapon to carve you up with in her rage.”

He snorted and smiled slightly, “I guess you’re right about that. Anyway, I don’t expect to get her back, not really, but I at least want to say sorry, man up and explain to her why I did what I did. I was so messed up at the time, that I didn’t really provide a good explanation, and I think she deserved to know the truth. I am hoping this is a case of better late than never, and not a case of too little too late.”

Ramirez sighed and shook his head but let it go.

The sheriff watched him with some interest, head tilted this way and that, scrutinizing him as if he was some strange looking crustation the man had found under a rock.

He stared down at the knife he now twisted between his two fingers before strapping it to his belt,

He expected the sheriff or one of the other deputies to keep going on about it, but they dropped the subject, and instead the sheriff leaned forward over the fire, “You boys did a pretty good job with those men back there. That was some good shooting, and back at the bar was some pretty good teamwork.” he looked sidelong at Adam, “Now, I can’t vouch for the intelligence of a man who would flying tackle a bandit off a horse at twenty miles an hour, but that remains to be seen I suppose.”

Ramirez and Adam lifted their head in interest.

Adam raised an eyebrow, “You trying to say something sheriff.”

The man paused scrutinizing them still, “Well McBride and his men have been bothering this community for a while now, and it needs to stop. Now we captured a few of them back there, but McBride is the one we are really after, without him his whole group falls apart and vanishes back into whatever cesspit they came from.” he paused tapping his boot thoughtfully against the dirt, “We need good fighting men to help us take them down and you two….”

Ramirez and Adam both leaned forward in some measure of excitement eyes wide.”

“And well, the two of you have more than proven your metal when it comes to the fighting aspect so….. I am more than willing to deputize you boys until we catch McBride, the help would be most appreciated.”

“HELL YEAH!”

The sheriff almost fell off his log as the two of them jumped to their feet in vehement and unbridled excitement.

A few of the deputies just shook their heads.

“City folk.” one of them whispered but the smile on his face made it clear enough that he didn’t really mean anything by it.

“Calm down! Lest I rethink my offer,” the sheriff muttered, clearly trying to appear more annoyed than he actually was. He stood, “Both raise your right hands or some shit, I don’t know.”

The two of them did as asked, grinning from ear to ear.

“Now in the power vested in me by the Bramble county justice system bla bla, I hereby deputize you that you may bring justice and all that stuff or whatever. Do you swear to protect this county and all the citizens in it.”

“We swear.”

He grunted, “Good.”

The two men stared at him, grinning expectantly, “What?”

“You know what.”

He sighed, grumbled, and walked over to his saddle, reaching into the bag and pulling out two shiny golden badges both in the shape of a star. He tossed them across the topen fire at the two men, “Here, and try not to wet yourselves.”

They didn’t wet themselves of course

But there was certainly a moment of girlish screaming and jumping up and down around the fire that probably shouldn't have been done in front of a group of other men whose respect they were trying to gain.

When they sat back down finally clearing their throats and awkwardly adjusting their hats, the other men stared at them with some measure of both amusement and concern, though no one said anything.

Of course neither of them really cared.

Ramirez was still admiring his badge when a sudden frown came over his face, and he reached down to his shirt, “Damn it.”

Adam tilted his head,”What.”

“Hole in my shirt.”

He turned to see that there was, indeed, a hole in his shirt.

“Shit, I liked this shirt.” “Oh stop bitching and hand it over.”

“What.”

“Just give me the damn shirt.”

Ramirez did as told, though as he handed it over, the suspenders of his pants now hanging down at his sides he looked up grinning, “If you wanted to see me shirtless, you could have just asked.” 

Adam, not looking up from the hole replied, “I’ll be interested in your sweaty man boobs when hell freezes over.”

There was some light chuckling form around the fire as Adam reached into his bag and pulled out a small sewing kit. The group of men watched as he deftly threaded a needle, wetting the end of the thread with saliva before threading it through the small hole. Within the next few seconds he was pulling the hole in the shirt closed until it was neatly stitched back up and he handed it back to Ramirez .

He stared looking between Adam and the repaired shirt, “dude…. This… this is clean… since when have you known how to sew.”

Adam looked almost offended, “Seriously ramirez, think about who my mother is for five secons.”

“I mean yeah, but you didn’t exactly strike me as the sitting in the living room sewing with mom type.”

Adam crossed his arms, “I had a life once. Before I joined the UNSC I used to make my own costumes for conventions. My mother taught me everything she knows, and since I didn’t have a lot of friends at school I got pretty good at it.”

“Next you’ll be telling me you can knit.”

“Dude I will Knit or crochet you the best damn scarf you’ve ever worn and maybe a nice pair of mittens to go along with it.”

They stared at each other neither breaking eye contact.

“I make a mean beanie.”

Ramirez began to laugh, “You never cease to amaze me. What else can you do. I mean, you can Knit and crochet, and sew.”

“I am also pretty handy at cross-stitching, embroidery, and needlepoint.”

The other men around the fire began to laugh, though it was good natured enough.

Adam shrugged, “Laugh all you want, but I never had to worry about holes in my pants.”

“That it”

He paused and shook his head, “Well, no. I used to be able to do makeup ok, just for the costumes I did, could practically change the structure of my face. I was pretty good at it, I would say.” he frowned, rubbing his chin a bit, “I mean there were a lot of the things my mother and father taught me how to do…”

“Why…. why did you stop. That all seems fun.”

Adam paused, and then shrugged, “I…. well, I joined the UNSC and then didn’t really have time to do those things anymore. They just sort of… fell away until I kind of forgot I could even do them…. It was the same with riding horses and woodworking.”

“You used to draw too, didn’t you.”

Adam shrugged, “A little, probably could have been pretty good if I had practiced, but there wasn’t really time to do that either.”

One of the deputies prodded the fire with a stick, “Let your job kind of take over your life, didn’t you.”

He paused and shrugged, “I guess.”

“Not something that's good for a man.” The sheriff gestured around the circle, “The boys here all have things they like doing outside work. I mean I own a little farm. I like getting my hands in the dirt, and watching things grow. Clayton over there makes his own booze, and is pretty good at if I don’t say so myself. Tom there and his girl like to go dancing, won a few competitions, haven’t you Tom.”

Adam rubbed the back of his head, “Well I do have things outside my work I like to do, like flying or, watching vintage movies.”

“You're a fighter pilot, Adam, so that doesn’t count, and sci-fi movies are too close to home.”

He sighed, “Fine, fine, maybe I let the life take me over a little too much.”

Ramirez snorted, “Maybe…. Maybe?”

“Ok yeah, I DID for sure.”

“Don’t lose yourself kid. The moment you allow your job to define you, there is always the chance it could be taken away, and then you’d lose your identity all together.”

Adam grimaced at the thought, but realized they were…. Right.

What was he?

And there walsall the possibility in the world that he could lose his job. He wasn’t sure how it could be done, but he was sure it could happen. There was always the possibility of politics chasing him out of his role if he got too important. Or perhap, he would just get to old, and they wouldn’t trust him anymore.

Either way, one day he was going to be out of a job, and when that happened, he needed to make sure he was stable enough to handle it. And if he couldn’t handle his real life, right now, then he was sure that he wouldn’t be able to handle himself if he lost it.

“Get some sleep, all of you, we ride out tomorrow…. To catch a train.”

The men grumbled and maneuvered their saddles into more comfortable positions leaving one man on watch for that night.

Adam leaned back against his saddle to stare up at the stars.

There was…. An overwhelming sense of vertigo that came with looking up, a familiar sensation he had had since childhood. The stars overhead were comforting and familiar, but tonight they also seemed distant. They had been distant for a while, he supposed, and the thought left him with a deep well of sadness.

When had it been, when had he lost it….. The wide eyed childish love for what he did.

When had he become so…. So lost.

Was there a moment he could pinpoint, was there an instance he could look back on and see?

Or had it come on slowly pernicious and insidious creeping up on him slowly from behind to tackle him and bind him with such doubts and indecision.

He closed his eyes, and in his dreams he flew through the sky trailing his fingers through he stars.

[philliamwrites]

Son cœur

Fandom: The Case Study of Vanitas (by Mochizuki Jun)

Pairing: Noé/Vanitas

Tags: #alternate chapter 16, #implied/referenced child abuse, #implied/referenced rape/non-con, #tragic past, #vanitas has like a bijillion problems, #and noé is one of them, #angst and feels, #blood drinking, #spoilers 4th manga

Words: 3.5k

Summary: Captured by the Chasseurs, Vanitas and Noé have to find a way out that hopefully doesn't end with Noé's head off and Vanitas's friend account of 1 being reduced by 1.

Son cœur 

    It was only fair to say everything was Noé’s fault.

    As much as Vanitas felt content with a useful shield like him, he felt incredible irritation more than anything else, and too close to burst at the seams with searing anger. Infiltrating the place of the Chasseurs had been way too easy. Lying came as natural to Vanitas as breathing, even though he sort of wondered about the spontaneity regarding the names he came up with. Gilbert and Vincent … well, worse names existed.

    In the end, Vanitas should have known. They had survived the Bal Masqué after all and even then Vanitas had been a first row spectator to the inimitable piece of art Noé Archiviste was. Noé didn’t just overthrow his principles and injure people or act ruthless. He’d rather let them crucify him if his sacrifice meant everyone's benediction, and now this very naiveté and lack of cold-heartedness caused their imprisonment.

    For someone drinking as much blood as Noé undoubtedly had over the span of his life, his soul was surprisingly clean—much the opposite of Vanitas’, who imagined a black, rotting canvas with deformed moths eating black holes into its fabric sitting in a dark corner hidden from the world’s greedy eyes.

    No better time for proof would occur again than this moment: Because Noé had refused to use Maria as a hostage, they had been captured and were now sitting in a bunker, surrounded by thick metal and no escape but the firmly sealed door opposite from Vanitas, waiting for their death.

    In moments like these Vanitas felt a suffocating hate towards Noé; this loathing clawed as a slithering, black ruin at his chest and tried to gutter him like a pumpkin; a monster searching for a way outside to set the world in flames, burning down towns and villages, perpetrators and victims alike. This thing and Vanitas were acquainted since a long time, it always felt like a reunion with an old friend rather than the surprise of a stranger standing in front of his door. And yet, what could he do?

    Physically, Vanitas was no match for Noé. Sure, he had the Book of Vanitas, but what would it use him to look for Noé’s true name and turn him into a Curse-Bearer. Both options would end in Vanitas experiencing a lot of pain he’d rather gladly pass on, so he pushed those thoughts far away and returned staring at Noé as if mere observating and a steely resolve were enough to solve why Noé acted the way he did. If there was one thing Vanitas hated more than the Vampire of the Blue Moon and questions about himself, it was questions about others he couldn’t simply answer with his observation skills only. And out of everyone, Noé ended up to be the best example.

    “Mon dieu, could you please stop jumping around and sit for a moment?” Vanitas demanded; his very first words since their imprisonment, because he’d been sure the first thing to come out of his mouth were obscene insults. Noé threw him a quick glance over his shoulder, his red eyes a dim glimmer in the barely lighted room.

    “If I sit, I can’t get us out of here,” Noé simply replied, then punched the metal wall again. The loud bang echoed through their cell. Somewhere at the back of Vanitas’ head a dull throbbing found its home and refused to leave.

    “So far, you are doing a miserable job in trying to free us, Noé,” Vanitas remarked with a bored expression, ignoring how smooth and easy Noé’s name usually slid over his lips, but now felt like a thick layer on his tongue trying to suffocate him. Vanitas draped himself on the ground to stretch his long legs, propping his chin on a hand. He closed his eyes and counted to ten to get a hold of himself and come up with a better plan, but only managed to reach three when another bang vibrated through his body, the dull throbbing wandering to his temples.

    “Noé,” he repeated, this time sharper. “Stop it. You’re wasting energy. Save it until the Chasseurs return. Until then, there is no way for us to escape.” Vanitas knew sometimes admitting defeat bore more results than clawing at impenetrable walls and ripping your fingers bloody in the process.

    “What are you talking about?” Noé’s voice rang out to Vanitas, clear as a bell despite his smooth and deep voice. Vanitas looked up. “There is always a way.”

    Without an immediate response, Vanitas couldn’t do anything but stare for a moment, taken aback because this was surely the third time or so Noé was able to struck Vanitas speechless. And Vanitas, usually so sure and knowing about the turmoil of his emotions (or lack thereof at times), was left with feelings he couldn’t quite place or decipher, and he wished for nothing else but to rip himself open and dissect every bit until he knew what foul play was at hand.

    The audacity of Noé holding that power without even realizing was quite infuriating.

    “Oh?” Vanitas didn’t even try to hide the mock in his voice. “Then please, be my guest and show me the way out.” Noé didn’t move (what else did Vanitas expect) but a familiar crease found its way between Noé’s pale eyebrows, signalling the boy’s brain at work.

    “Don’t overdo yourself using that pretty head of yours,” Vanitas offered with a crooked grin, but either Noé didn’t hear him or ignored the statement (both was fine because Vanitas couldn’t explain why he felt obliged to add the unnecessary last part) because he turned away, sinking down until he was hovering above the spot on the wall where his fist had left a dent. Vanitas stared at his back, his broad shoulders, the tips of his white hair curling at the base of his neck and thought, Do not turn away from me, Noé, and then with the same breath It is better you do not look at me with those eyes begging for allowance to save me. Vanitas closed his eyes, the soft lines of Noé’s shoulder blades against the dark fabric of his jacket still on his mind.

    “There is a way,” Noé repeated, and when Vanitas opened his eyes again, he met Noé’s watching him. “But you won’t like it.”

    “I won’t like it,” Vanitas repeated, turning Noé’s words a little, claiming them his own. Vanitas dropped his head from his hand, lowering it until the cool, smooth stone touched his forehead, and turned to his side so he was able to look better at Noé. “What exactly won’t I like about it, pray tell, Noé.” He really should stop saying Noé’s name so much.

    “I can break through this wall, but I need more strength,” Noé replied, straight to the case, (though sometimes Vanitas questioned the straight because he sure never missed how Noé’s eyes seemed to follow him a second longer than necessary; linger a little longer on the curve of his neck, the bow of his ankles and wrists, the arch of his calves). “And you can give me exactly what I need, Vanitas.”

    “And I can give you exactly what you need, Noé.” He really couldn’t stop saying Noé’s name so much. But that aside, Vanitas didn’t stop the bark of laughter exploding from his lips like a gunshot— a humourless and harsh sound caught between them in their steely cage. “Isn’t this convenient? We’re trapped and the only way to get out is by you drinking my blood!”

    “This isn’t convenient,” Noé objected, looking everywhere but at Vanitas. “I know you don’t want me to do it.”

    “‘Don’t want to,’" Vanitas said, "seems like the understatement of this century considering I said I will kill you should you ever drink my blood, Archiviste.” He noticed the small flinch in Noé’s shoulders, the glimpse of recognition in Noé’s eyes. The memory of their talk was so visible in Noé’s expression Vanitas expected to see blood all over him with how Noé wore his heart bluntly exposed on his sleeves.

    “You can do that after I get you out,” Noé said slowly. “It beats being killed by those vampire hunters.”

    Now, that was something interesting. In his line of job, Vanitas always paid attention to what people said and how they said it. So much meaning was left hanging in the air, so much ammunition to benefit from. And this one clearly said one thing. I don’t mind dying if it’s you killing me.

    Vanitas gifted Noé with one of his razor sharp smiles. “Oh, the things you say. Maybe I should really cut your head off once you get us out of here. I’m sure Roland will gladly lend me Durandal.”

    Surprisingly, Noé didn’t flinch. He probably already knew that for all the foul things Vanitas’ mouth spouted he only turned a few of them into action. And yet, Vanitas felt the familiar itch in his fingers demanding to see blood spilled at the atrocity they were to commit, and the only way of making it bearable was to mock the situation— an ability Vanitas was unrivalled at.

    He tapped a gloved index finger against his chin, not bothering to change his current position on the dirty ground. “Maybe I’ll let you if you ask nicely.”

    Noé waited a moment for Vanitas to follow with a more serious statement (clearly overestimating him), but when Vanitas remained silent, save for the mysterious little smile on his thin lips, Noé grew exasperated. “This isn’t a game, Vanitas,” he said.

    “Of course it isn’t.” Vanitas shrugged, playfully twirling a black strand of hair around his finger. "Doesn’t mean I don’t want to get something out of this and hear you beg for it.”

    Noé possessed enough dignity to roll his eyes at that. “Please let me drink your blood, Vanitas,” he said with a blank expression.

    Vanitas winked at him. “How about you invite me to dine first?”

    Noé groaned, dragging a hand over his face. “Never mind. I should have known you would only make light of the matter.”

    “Because you know me oh so well, don’t you?” Vanitas inquired, not even trying to contain the venom dripping from his voice. Noé peeked at him from behind his long, slender fingers. He reminded Vanitas of a pet scolded by its owner and left to fend for itself.

    When Noé didn’t show any sign of commitment to his proposal, Vanitas grew impatient.

    “Noé,” Vanitas said. “Come here.”

    He didn’t move, so Vanitas repeated, “Noé.”

    Finally, he got up. His movement was careful but determined, and Vanitas wondered about the things Noé was actually afraid of and how his walk would change should he face it. He really ought to ask him about this Louis some day. It was impossible for this name to lack any significance with how often Noé claimed it in his sleep, body flinching and fingers clawing into the sheets in desperate search for hold.

    When Noé finally stood in front of him, Vanitas lazily lifted a hand like a fair maiden waiting for her lover to take the delicate hand and cover it with soft, feathery kisses. Only once Noé’s fingers grazed Vanitas’, he curled them around Noé’s hand (only now Vanitas noticed Noé’s knuckles bleeding from hitting the wall) and pulled him down. It wasn’t enough for Noé to lose his balance; it seemed more like he allowed Vanitas to pull him down which struck a nerve inside Vanitas and added more fuel to his annoyance regarding this whole situation.

    He propped himself on his elbows, cocking his head to the side and presenting his bare neck to Noé like a sacrificial lamb displayed for Gods to rip apart.

    “Very well,” he said quietly, looking up at Noé from under his thick curtains of black lashes. “Let us begin then.”

    Noé, much like a dog finally allowed to act with its master’s consent, leaned over Vanitas; a hand on his chest as Vanitas’ fingers danced over the black fabric of Noé’s uniform. The little sound escaping Noé’s lips when Vanitas flipped him over and straddled his lap was a small treasure Vanitas would wrap up and hide somewhere deep in his chest to unfold later to study.

    “Do you really think I’d make it that easy for you?” Vanitas snorted, leaving the  how stupid unsaid, but definitely palpable between them. He lifted his left hand and pulled the glove off with his teeth.

    “There are two conditions,” Vanitas said as his glove fell off, and he fought against the shudder dancing over his arm and taking over his whole body, telling (but not able to fool) himself it was from the cold in the cell rather than feeling exposed and naked without his glove. Noé nodded, and Vanitas raised one finger. “After you have drunk, you will say nothing.” Noé nodded again, so Vanitas raised the second. “After we get out of here, you will say nothing and should you ever try and so much as hint at talking about it, I will kill you.”

    Noé refused to look away, and Vanitas refused to yield to this want of stripping bare to his inner core in front of those piercing red eyes. Should Noé ever get a good look at what lurked beneath Vanitas’ smooth, alabaster white skin, he'd only find worms and cockroaches scurrying around spoiled, rotten soil Gaia herself wouldn’t even weep for.

    “Tell me you understood what I just said,” Vanitas demanded, hovering over Noé’s face.

    Noé exhaled slowly, the tip of his tongue darting over his lower lip. Vanitas wanted to punch him.

    “I won’t talk about it,” he said, and because he was Noé  of course  he had to add, “Not until it is of your own accord.”

    This time, Vanitas’ face lacked his usual malicious glee. Through half-lidded eyes, he considered Noé what felt like painfully slow passing minutes, though it were only a few seconds later when he said, “It won’t and you better be careful of expecting it if you value your life.”

    Noé swallowed, but Vanitas couldn’t tell if it was because of his deadly promise or the hunger just before anticipating a meal, and in the end he didn’t really care.

    “Well then.” Vanitas offered Noé his left bare arm. “Bon appétit.”

    To his credit, Noé didn’t immediately go down on him (though Vanitas caught glimpses of wishes in his mind of Noé going down on him) and first took careful hold of Vanitas’ bony wrist as if he was allowed to carry the world’s most precious treasure between his fingers (which was just really unnecessary because Noé should know that for someone with slim wrists Vanitas was surprisingly strong). He pushed a thumb against the inside of Vanitas’ wrist and Vanitas dared ihm with his blank expression to comment on the stumble of his heartbeat before it returned to its natural rhythm, but Noé wasn’t even looking at him, focusing way too much on simply feeling Vanitas’ pulse for a moment, and surprisingly Vanitas felt himself grow impatient. He didn’t know slow or careful or soft, only hard and painful and too fast for him to accommodate to the pain, the fears, the hopelessness.

    “Noé, I swear to God, if we don’t get this ov—“ The pain of teeth breaking his skin shouldn’t be that much of a foreign feeling to Vanitas, and yet he couldn’t stop himself from flinching, or gritting his teeth, or subconsciously leaning his upper body away from this vampire; no from Noé drinking blood from his wrist. But it was only the very first seconds that were uncomfortable, then the substance from Noé’s teeth lessening the pain numbed Vanitas’ skin and he closed his eyes, unable to (and he didn’t want to, really) fight against the poison now pumping through his body begging him to let himself relax and just become an animal’s meal; to surrender, and maybe if it was Noé, it would be fine.

    Vanitas snickered to himself, swearing to drive his own fingers into his eyes should he continue to think ridiculous things like that. “What would Dominique think looking at you now, clinging to a filthy human, hm?” Vanitas leaned forward again, over the slightly hunched figure of Noé still drinking and sucking and licking, and he wondered which of the countless tragic pages composing Vanitas’ short, miserable life Noé flipped through right now. Did he see Vanitas’ young, small figure standing in front of his dead parents, blood all over the place but not where it was supposed to be— in his mother’s body, and in his father’s body and how could one simple man even carry so much blood inside of him—and little Vanitas not understanding what had happened. Or maybe he saw Vanitas’ early times starting as an experiment of Doctor Moreau, this time being the one bleeding all over the research table, just before Moreau started to see Vanitas in his room, undressing and examining him which he’d usually conducted at nights before starting to do so midday as well (it would certainly be entertaining to see Noé’s reaction should they manage to find the mad scientist). Maybe Noé was currently chasing Vanitas fleeing from the Vampire of the Blue Moon, the dark grimoire clutched tightly to his chest like a life line with a horrified expression Noé surely couldn’t even dream of Vanitas possessing, listening to his repeating “I abandoned him, I abandoned him, he is dead, please God forgive me” over and over again—his first and last prayer to God. “What would she think indeed, mon cheri,” Vanitas whispered. Something warm fell on his skin, and he didn’t need to see to know, because what else did he expect from someone like Noé.

    “My, my.” Vanitas couldn’t help but laugh quietly, wondering if Noé in his frenzy heard the surrender in this fragile sound. He placed his free, still gloved hand on Noé’s head and combed with this fingers through Noé’s hair, patting at it and smoothing it back into straight lines falling in front of his face. “You are such a crybaby. I am quite certain de Béranger wrote his music with people like you in his mind.” Son cœur est un luth suspendu; Sitot qu’on le touche il resonne. His heart is a posed lute; as soon as it is touched, it resounds.

    Just how could Noé still bring up the energy to care. His heart was open. Never closed, never locked. It needed no key, and Vanitas felt quite displeased with how easy Noé welcomed strangers to his heart.

    Finally, Noé released Vanitas’ wrist, but he remained seated, his head hanging low, so Vanitas had to dip his own in search for scarlet red eyes; lacking any interest in tending his wound crying blood all over his arm and jacket. He curled his fingers around Noé’s wet cheeks and lifted his head, trying to ignore the curtain of tears in those pretty ruby mirrors, but it was hard because mea culpa, mea maxima culpa.

    “Now, I hope you better have learned something from this,” Vanitas said, dragging his left thumb across the corner of Noé’s lips where his blood hung still fresh, but oh so scandalously fitting against Noé’s dark skin that it was truly a piece of art. He pushed his thumb against Noé’s lips, painting them red. “Do never ask me of this again. Even in the depths of hell with you drinking my blood as our only way of salvation, do not ask me of this, Noé,” Vanitas whispered against Noé’s lips in what he clearly saw a cruel mockery and threat, when really Vanitas would rather remain with Noé in hell until the world succumbed to its own rotten core, side by side— which was ridiculous and stupid, because people like Noé didn’t end up in hell like Vanitas. They remained eternal because Gods sacrificed their immortality in show of devotion, and Vanitas would be a hypocrite to accuse them of idiocy.

    But what had the Gods given to him? They’d made him a walking disaster, consisting of the lethal combination of an urge for self destruction and a preference for collateral damage, and the only thing Vanitas himself thought about this was, Then so be it, because if I cannot reach heaven, I will raise hell.

    True to his word, Noé didn’t say anything.

    In fact, he didn’t speak at all after tearing down the wall of their cell with one single punch and gaining Roland’s help in locating Doctor Moraeu, but just one look into his eyes was enough for Vanitas to see what sort of storm caused havoc inside him and uprooted the foundation of Noé’s innocence and benevolent beliefs, and he thought mea culpa, mea maxima culpa.

Gardez vos dons : je suis peureux. Mais si d’un zèle généreux Pour moi le monde vous soupçonne, Sachez bien qui vous a vendu : Mon cœur est un luth suspendu, Sitôt qu’on le touche, il résonne.

[Pierre-Jean de Béranger]

[ofstarsandfireflies]

Moved this movie up the list because I was excited to write this one.

Please enjoy!

Mr. And Mrs. Smith

Two spies who are married don’t know the other is a spy also.

With the world as dangerous as it was, Tony is an Black Widow; a leader of a secret group willing to kill anyone who stood in shield’s way.

With the world as dangerous as it was, Stephen is a Sorcerer; a leader of a secret group willing to lay down their lives to protect the world.

But they can’t tell their husband that. What would he think?

Each day they pretend to go to their day jobs when in actual fact they are fighting one another on the streets, Tony in his armour his husband knows nothing about and Stephen using a hooded cloak to cover his face his husband knows nothing about.

And then they come back home, talking about their day as if nothing had happened, just like any other couple.

But their lives at home have become boring and dull, both too exhausted to do anything in bed but sleep and their relationship is suffering because of it.

It was never like this though.

Not when they started dating five years ago, six according to Stephen.

Tony was never good with dates.

No, back then, Tony and Stephen couldn’t get enough of one another.

Back then, there was little time between missions to become bored with the other.

Neither knew what the other was, just that they were what they had always wanted.

And not even three months into their relationship, Tony proposed.

The honeymoon phase came and went, and slowly walls were built between the other not only to cover themselves, but to keep the other safe and at a distance.

And now they were getting counseling.

Now the walls were built too high.

Now their jobs were getting more dangerous.

They should get a divorce.

At least if something happens, the other would be safe.

It was a hard reality they had to face.

Getting nowhere on either side, both are given the order to kill the leader of the opposite group.

They try, they really do, but don’t succeed.

Tony’s suit can withstand any magical attack and Stephen’s magic can withstand any rocket or projectile Tony hurls his way.

The fight lasts well into the night until they each realise they’re both late for dinner.

Their husband is probably waiting at home with a pissed look on his face and the last thing they want is an argument when their relationship is barley hanging on by a thread.

They run.

Stephen gets home first, quickly changing his robes to his regular clothes and walking into the dark house.

Maybe Tony went to bed early?

Calling out to him and walking up the stairs to their room, Stephen freezes when he hears the Iron Man suit land on their roof.

How had it found him?

How had it found Tony?

He quickly changes back into his robes, uncaring that his hood isn’t covering his face anymore.

If the Iron Man has already found out where he lives, there’s no use trying to hide his identity.

Ready to blast this intruder in half, he’s thrown back from the explosion of those bloody rockets, propelling him through the wall into the guest bedroom.

He makes a run for it, jumping through one portal to land above the Iron Man and wrestling him to the ground, trying to find a weak point in the armour to put it down for good.

He’s just managed to break the helmet off from the neck when the suit blasts up through the ceiling, Stephen letting go before he hears the repulsors heating up.

He manages to whip out a long rope of orange magic and snag it around the Iron Man’s leg, the blast from his gauntlet just missing Stephen’s head as he brings the suit down and they crash through the roof and first storey flooring to land in the entryway.

Both are up in the matter of seconds, the glow of Stephen’s magic from the suit of armour creating enough light between them that they can finally see the other’s face.

Neither of them move.

Neither of them speak.

Confusion.

Realisation.

More confusion.

And then hurt.

Stephen is yelling.

Tony is making snide comments. It’s only when Stephen begins accusing Tony of using him as a cover that Tony lets it known he’d thought the exact same thing of Stephen.

That’s why their relationship failed.

It’s the other’s fault.

Tony grabs Stephen and they almost come to blows again, each knowing that they have to unleash their attacks, yet each waiting to see what the other will do.

Moving at the same time to shed each other’s clothes definetly wasn’t what either thought they would do, robes and armour pieces fall to the floor in a jumbled heap together as their rekindled love for each other barley gets them half way to the bedroom before they just give up and decide the floor is as good a place as any.

But they were careless.

Stephen’s magical signature can be traced, as can Tony’s suit, and within the hour both have lead a new division to their location.

One sent to kill them both; Hydra.

They barley have enough time to get changed before bullets are flying through the windows of the house and destroying most of what Stephen and Tony hadn’t managed to.

Hydra agents are descending through the skylights Stephen had put in himself and bleeding all over the floors Tony recently had waxed.

And they just keep coming, both deciding now is the best time to be asking questions about what was actually real in their marriage while bodies keep dropping around them.

It’s cathartic and enlightening to be sure, perhaps a little too much seeming how Stephen learns Tony brought a paid actor to be his dad to their wedding and Tony turns one of his attacks onto Stephen when he tells him he’d actually been married once before, causing them to lose focus and almost be blown to pieces by some idiot with a rocket launcher.

Knowing they can’t fight like this forever, Tony offers Stephen an alternative.

They blow up the house with the agents inside and get away before they can get caught in the blast.

Stephen agrees it’s a solution, but not a long term one as his portal will leave behind a signature of where they went.

Tony knows this, but also knows they’ll have a little time before they’re found.

They can get help, information, and then take the fight to Hydra once they know where they’re stationed.

That’s all well and good but how was Tony planning on blowing up the house? His rockets aren’t gonna do much but put it out of its misery.

Much to Stephen’s horror, Tony tells him how there’s a bomb under the house, should something like this ever were to happen.

And no. He wasn’t planning on telling Stephen about it because it was on a need to know basis and now Stephen needs to know.

Tony activates the House Warming Protocol with a single voice command, and as it is acknowledged, Stephen drags him to the portal, barley making it a foot inside their new destination before what little remained of the house they had built together was blown sky high.

Wong isn’t too pleased about the visitors this late at night.

Especially when those visitors are bringing hell down upon his doorstep just from being here.

But he’s not one to turn down a friend.

Especially since Hydra hope to lure both sides into helping with the hunt after the bounty they just placed on their heads.

But why were they being hunted in the first place?

Because they were unsuccessful in their mission?

Wong can’t believe how stupid they are.

Well, yes, he can, and in that aspect they really were made for one another, but this has nothing to do with their failed mission in killing each other and everything to do with them being married to each other.

Hydra had control of the Sorcerers and the Black Widows, and when they found out about Tony and Stephen’s marriage, they thought to see who was the strongest out of the two.

Tony couldn’t believe this.

He’d thought his whole time that he had been working with Shield, the good guys against Hydra, but instead he’d been working for Hydra itself.

They needed to find out where that Hydra base was, and the only person Tony knew who had ever been there, was Natasha.

One of the few people Tony trusted.

Nat was more than happy to help him and so was Wong, both agreeing to keep anyone who was following them on their toes.

As they made their way through the silent corridors, taking out any guard they came across silently so as not to sound any alarms, they thought they were doing pretty well.

Well, that is until they ran into Task Master.

One single agent with the training of a thousand.

No matter what they threw at him, no matter how they moved or what they thought was something new, Task Master seemed to predict what they were going to do.

They stand back to back. Stephen can feel the armour pressing against him as Tony fires at their lone enemy, all the while the magic Stephen had once used against his husband fights along side him.

But Task Master is evading everything they throw at him.

He’s dodging attacks Stephen has only used once or twice before, and Tony is faring no better as his missiles zoom around the room and hit everything but their intended target.

They can’t beat this guy.

Not this way.

Stephen looks to Tony and sees him already waiting to catch his eye, grinning as he’s had the exact same idea.

And when he feels Tony take his hand, he knows what he wants to do.

Lining up the shot, Stephen’s magic causes an almighty fireball to explode out of Tony’s hand, finally hitting their mark.

And then, once he hits the ground, everything goes quiet.

They look around, surveying the carnage around them.

They’re the only ones left alive.

They did it.

They don’t need to keep secrets from one another anymore.

They don’t need to fight each other anymore.

They can just enjoy retirement together.

Until they’re found again of course.

Gotta spice things up every once in a while, right?

Quotes

“Stop. Stop. You’ve only known the girl for six weeks.”

“I’m in love! She’s smart, sexy, she’s uninhibited, spontaneous, complicated. She’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen!”

“You know I never do anything without thinking it through.”

“What does he do?”

“He’s in construction. Big-time contractor.”

“A server goes down on Wall Street. She’s there, anytime, day or night. She’s like Batman for computers.”

These two talking to their friends about each other.

“Why is it you think we failed? Cos we were leading seperate lives? Or was it all the lying that did us in?”

“I have a theory. Newly formed.”

“I’m breathless to hear it.”

“You killed us.

“Provocative.”

“You approached our marriage like a job, to be reconned, planned and executed.”

“And you avoided it.”

“What do you care if I was just a cover?”

“Well, who said you were just a cover?”

“Wasn’t I?”

“Wasn’t I?”

Tony and Stephen trying to figure out if what they had all this time was real.

“You know, sweetheart, you’re being a bit hypocritical. It’s not like you’re some beacon of truth.”

“John, my parents...they died when I was five. I’m an orphan.”

“Who was that kindly fellow who gave you away at our wedding?”

“Paid actor.”

“I said, I said I saw your dad on Fantasy Island.”

“I know.”

I love this line

Normal Lies

By day, they’re the enemy.

By night, they’re husbands.

And when dawn finally breaks, they have a choice to make.

Missed a Day? Catch up here!

Day 1 Day 2 Day 3 Day 4 Day 5

Day 6 Day 7 Day 8 Day 9 Day 10

Day 11 Day 12 Day 13 Day 14 Day 15

Day 16 Day 17

[sxypigeon]

Chapter 20 - Bolin tries to write a screen play and everyone has a bad day

Book 5 Absolution (a mostly canon korrasami story)

Things in the refugee camps have gone downhill, Korra checks on Kuvira, and Asami tries not to murder Varrik.

Chapters  1,  19

---

The scene: A dusty Earth Kingdom village on the edge of the Si Wong Desert - a sleepy tourist town in its off season at dusk.

Enter: Ting-Ting in disguise wearing sandbender wraps and clothes, looking for his informant.  He walks down a side street and into the shadiest tavern, through the torn sheet acting as a door.  The interior is crowded and smokey, just the way Ting-Ting likes it.  He approaches the bar and says to the bartender -

“Bolin!”

Said earth bender turned from the window of the airship he’d been vacantly staring out of to his brother.  “What, I’m here - yes! . . . Um, could you repeat that in case I missed everything you just said?”

Mako sighed and rolled his eyes from his seat opposite him, next to Jeong.  “I asked you if you enjoyed your time with Opal, but judging by the look you just had, I guess I don’t need an answer.”

Bolin frowned at the pair of them as they shared a smug smile.  “Of course I did, but that wasn’t what I was thinking about.  I have this idea for a mover I’m working on-”

“Still?” Mako asks in surprise.

“Well, yeah.  What with working on uniting the Earth Kingdom and then saving Republic City, I haven’t had a whole lot of time to work on it.”

“What’s it about?” Jeong asked with interest.

“Oh, here we go,” Mako muttered with a small exasperated grin.

A huge grin lit up Bolin’s face.  “It’s about an ex-United Forces operative named Ting-Ting who’s on the trail of his kidnapped love Ivy.  His arch-nemesis Dr. Razor took her as revenge for Ting-Ting’s last mission with the United Forces to shut down his illegal laboratory where he forced spirits and thugs to merge and become his minions.  Ting-Ting’s research leads him to the edge of the Si Wong Desert where his former partner, Lee, is undercover trying to bust a smuggling ring among the sandbenders.  All clues point to Dr. Razor using the lost city of Sobata in the middle of the desert as his base and the center of the sandbender’s smuggling operation.”

“Wow, that’s a lot of information.  Do you think people will be able to follow along with the plot?”

“Sure, I mean, maybe there’ll have to be a voiceover explaining some of the finer details, but I think-”

“We’re here,” Mako interrupted.  

Jeong smiled and shrugged, “Next time.”

“Yeah,” Bolin muttered, “maybe by then I’ll have a bit more of the plot worked out and not just the backstory.”

---

“What do you mean you took over an Earth Empire reeducation camp?  Where are you?!”

Kuvira sighed tiredly and rubbed her eyes.  The avatar, as usual, had chosen an inopportune time to appear.  “Reeducation Camp 11, just east of the mountains and Fort Senlin.”  She paused to yawn.  “I helped the prisoners overthrow their guards and we currently control the camp and it seems like the Empire forces are unaware.  Was that all - can I go back to sleep?  It’s been a long two days.”

The spectral form of the avatar glared at her for a moment before worry won out over anger.  “What’s your plan for the camp?  Are you going to keep control of it or shut it down?  I don’t think the prisoners will want to stay long if they have the option of leaving.”

She is the wettest blanket.  No appreciation for taking over a camp singlehandedly, I see.  “We’re working on a way to send some of the prisoners by boat to Republic City, others want to stay in the area and fight the Empire locally and reunite with their families,” Kuvira muttered through a yawn.  “Seriously, I’ve had maybe three hours of sleep in the last two days.  Let’s hurry this up.”

“Do you need back up or me to help in any way?”

“Other than going away and letting me sleep?”  Kuvira ignored another glare.  “Send a ship to meet the boat in three days.”

“What about the guards?”

“What about them?”

“Are they dead or your prisoners?  Do they need to be moved?”

“No one has died per your orders,” she sighed.  “I was going to destroy all of the camp except the cells and leave a few days of food.  Someone will investigate if radio-silence goes more than forty-eight hours.”

“Okay, what’s after this?”

I’m working on that, but your pestering isn’t helping.  Kuvira was quickly losing what little patience she had left.  “If all of this works?  Who knows, maybe I’ll open a tea shop in the middle ring of Ba Sing Se and retire.”

Korra looked ready to explode.  “I’m trying to help you!  We both want the same thing!  I can’t do anything for you if you don’t let me in on what you’re thinking.”

“And I’m telling you, right now, what I’m thinking about is sleep.  Now kindly disappear since that seems to be something you’re good at.”

---

This was a mistake.  Why did I ever agree to this?  This was one of the most important buildings in Asami’s entire company . . . and she was letting a known swindler and thief in through the front door.

“You know, I came up with something like this in a dream eighteen months ago,” Varrik said thoughtfully while passing an airplane large enough to hold two dozen people.

There is no plausible way this will end any way, but in disaster.  “As a reminder, Varrik, everything in this building and in or around the surrounding complex is off limits to you and Zhu Li.  These are trade secr-”

“Yeah, yeah.  Zhu Li, did you remember to pack the pumice scrub?  You know how bad my calluses get.” 

Asami gritted her teeth, but maintained a smile for her employee leading the tour.  He will steal at least one of my R&D designs.  He’ll steal it, copyright it, and then counter sue me when I try to take him to court over it.

Varrik wildly flung his arm in the direction of his wife’s head and pointed, “Hey, is that the break room?  Does it have a full kitchen?  Top quality genius requires expertly prepared, well-balanced meals.

He’s going to drive me insane and I’m going to kill him . . . then I’ll go to prison and never see Korra again . . . or I could go on the run and maybe Korra could come with me . . . as long as I don’t have to live in the sewers again.

The group came to a stop just inside the break room while Varrik tested the water pressure and temperature coming out of the taps in the kitchenette.  The tour guide, the head of the research building, approached her with a calm smile born from years of dealing with eccentric researchers. “Will there be anything else, Miss Sato?” 

“No, thank you, Mr. Taka.  That will be all,” she replied.  She waited for him to leave before waving her guests over and addressing them.  “I cannot emphasize this enough: everything you see here falls under the heading Trade Secret and cannot be copied or reproduced in any form-”

Varrik rolled his eyes and wrapped an arm around Asami’s shoulders.  “What are you, a broken record?.  I remember the forms your lawyer made us sign.  She read them all out loud - it nearly put me to sleep.”

“You can never be too careful,” Asami said with a forced smile.  Remember to breathe.  Maiming him won’t make this easier . . . or will it?  “Would you like some time to settle in or-”

“Heck no!  Let’s get straight to business!”  He stepped away, with a hand behind his back and a hand in the air, counting off what he needed on his fingers.  We’re going to need three heavy-duty electro-magnets, five industrial spools of thirty gauge copper wire, multiple sheets of pure platinum ranging from 0.25mm thickness to 5mm, and a pot of black tea every fifty-two minutes.”

Asami attempted to unclench her jaw before answering.  “Zhu Li warned - informed me of what we’d need.  It’s all set up in the lab.”

“Well, what are we waiting for?!  Zhu Li, do the thing!”

Asami watched the newlyweds practically run toward the ballistic R&D laboratory hopelessly.  Maybe everything will go fine . . . and maybe the Earth Empire will spontaneously surrender and give up their super weapons . . . and just maybe I’ll come out of this with my sanity intact.

---

“Is it just me or do these people not seem happy to see us?”  Bolin asked

Mako kept his head on a swivel.  Everyone on their path hurried away as they approached.  “They do not.”

“I don’t like this,” Jeong whispered.  “Something must have happened while we were away.”  She led the group down the dirt path between the rows of tents at a brisk pace.  “Dad!  What’s going on?  What-”

Jeong was stopped in front of her family's tent when the boys caught up to her.  The stricken look on the man’s face told them nearly all of the story.

Mako stepped beside the silent young woman and addressed her father gently, “What happened, sir?”

He breathed deeply and squared his shoulder, trying to hold his emotions in check.  “My son . . . and at least two other members of the neighborhood watch have been abducted.”

“No,” Bolin muttered hopelessly behind Mako.

“Did someone see any of this take place?  Are you sure they’re being held against their will?” Mako asked as he took out his notepad.

“Letters were sent to the families . . . delivered by young orphans we’ve seen with Triple Threat members.”

“This is my fault,” Jeong muttered in shock to herself.  “I stole that weapon.  I set up the watch.  I tried to drive the Triple Threats out of the area-”

“No!  You helped your neighbors!” Bolin insisted.  “Everything you did was to make everyone safer.  We’re going to get everyone back and bring the Triple Threats to justice!”

“Assigning blame isn’t going to help the situation,” Mako cut in, mostly to prevent Bolin from making more promises he wasn’t sure they could keep.  “May I see the letter you received?  Jeong, I need you to stay with your family while Bolin and I look into this.”

Perhaps as a sign of how distraught she was, Jeong simply nodded and headed into the tent.  Her father sighed sadly once she was inside.  “She’s tried so hard to help.  Here, find the bastards and bring my son home . . . please.”

Mako met his eyes and nodded as he took the letter.  “We’ll do everything in our power, sir.  I’ll let you know when I’ve learned anything.”  He grabbed Bolin by the arm and marched them back toward the airship they arrived on.

“Wait, aren’t we going to collect evidence and question the neighbors or stake out a . . .a tent or something?” Bolin asked.

Mako kept his face neutral.  “The two of us can’t take on an entire gang by ourselves.  We’re going to need back up.  There’s a radio in the airship.”

“Oh, right.  We can call for backup?”

“I hope so,” Mako muttered to himself.  If there is any . . .

---

Thanks for reading!

[justkeeptrekkin]

Also prompt - Ineffable Movie Night (you pick the decade) what would they see and how would they each take to it?

I hope you realise that I had to take a break halfway through writing this because your prompt idea is too fucking c u t e, I was having heart palpitations. Thank you! Also tagging @missmuffin221 who requested some hand holding…

***

Regent Street is covered in a blanket of snow. 

It’s rare that London sees snow like this; a good few inches on the pavements, people’s footprints frozen into it like cement. The cars parked on the street are dusted with icing sugar and the grey sky rains down flurries of snowflakes. It is eight in the evening, and the whole place glistens, shines in the street lights like crystal. 

“You can’t be serious.”

Crowley says this as he shoves his hands in his pockets, scarf wrapped tightly around him. He doesn’t necessarily feel the cold like the rest of the humans around him, bundled up like babies in swaddling clothes- but he likes the winter fashion. Nineteen forty-three may be a time of war, and the Regent Street shop fronts may have their lights turned down, the windows boarded up. But no one can deny the fashion is much, much better than the fourteenth century. 

“Whatever do you mean?”

“You can’t- you can’t have watched this movie three times.”

Aziraphale flounders for a moment, purses his lips self-consciously. “You don’t understand.”

“Yeah, I really don’t- I can barely sit through a movie without getting bored and leaving to get a pint, how do you sit through the same one more than once-?”

“It’s beautiful, that’s why!” Aziraphale argues. There’s no venom to his words, his frustration veering more on the flustered side than angry. “Casablanca is a wonderful, tragic love story, and-”

“You’re not really selling it to me.”

“It has everything, Crowley, really. The fascists getting what for! Fisticuffs! Romance-”

“I’m still not clear why you’ve watched it three times and now watching it again.”

Aziraphale smiles a little smugly to himself and casts a conspiratorial look in his direction, as if he’d planned all this just to trap him. “Just trust me.” 

As they walk through the gentle curtain of snow, past the people walking home- for the first time in years, without fear of zeppelins overhead bombing their streets- he feels Aziraphale beside him. Feels him right beside him, keeping with Crowley’s indulgently slow pace. Feels his arm bump occasionally into his. 

In the February cold, he feels his cheeks warm. 

It was only just over a year ago that he had stood in the wreckage of St George in the East church, air raid sirens blaring and the smell of smoke. It’s only been just over a year since the moment he’d known, simply known that Aziraphale was in danger and dove headfirst into holy ground to save him. Just over a year since he’d saved them both, saved his books. Saved the image of Aziraphale’s stricken expression, taken a mental photograph and folded it away neatly, slipped it carefully into the jacket pocket of his mind.  

The brush of a thumb over a knuckle as a briefcase was exchanged. 

Funny, how over approximately six thousand years, barely any physical interaction was had between the two of them. Then, that moment. Now, shoulders bumping. It’s enough to make him spontaneously combust with embarrassment and all the hideously romantic feelings that he can’t control- he’s keeping a stern eye out for any fires that might pop up over his body. 

It’s been known to happen. 

They reach Regent Street cinema, an apprehensive smile on Aziraphale’s face. “I really do hope you’ll like it. I may cry if you don’t.”

Crowley watches the way the nervousness turns into wide-eyed, almost childlike excitement. He shakes his head minutely, opens the door for him. “Go on then, after you. Before you explode.”

Aziraphale passes him a coy smile, and steps inside the cinema. 

And if the snow within a foot’s radius around Crowley begins to melt and steam in the air from his utterly demonic levels of blushing, then he’ll just have to hope Aziraphale doesn’t notice. 

***

“With the whole world crumbling, we pick this time to fall in love.”

Crowley has begun to smoke lightly from his ears.

Not that he’s noticed. And to everyone else in the theatre, it looks like he’s smoking a cigarette, like half of the people in the room. All that he’s aware of is the way this movie seems to be personally victimising him. And the fact that Aziraphale is sat straight upright in his seat, leaning forward slightly with his hands gripping his knees, brows pinched and a soppy smile. An expression that is completely enamoured. Eyes glistening, fixed on the screen. Shadows cast across his lit up face whenever the movie frame shifts. 

Crowley watches him, and doesn’t notice the smell of hair burning. 

***

He stretches his legs out in front of him in the dark, grabs the arm rests and shifts a little to get more comfortable. Aziraphale doesn’t seem to have moved a muscle for an hour.

Sweeping music plays. The hero gazes down at the face of the woman he loves, heartbroken and gentle. Crowley has absorbed none of the plot- not even the fun, fighting bits that he thinks he ought to have liked. His mind has been in another dimension, and meanwhile, his heart has been in his throat. 

“Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon and for the rest of your life.”

There is the sound of people sniffling, people blowing their noses. Aziraphale is motionless beside him, to the point of being painfully tense. 

Crowley covers his face with his hand. 

I hate this, he thinks. I absolutely fucking hate this.

It has nothing to do with the quality of the movie. Nor the person who’s eating crisps loudly behind them, nor the woman at the front who’s been wailing loudly at all the one liners. It doesn’t have anything to do with the group of teenagers who are snickering at the romantic moments, either. It has everything to do with the fact that he’s sat next to Aziraphale watching a romantic movie, of all things. And that he has that expression on his face. That loving, dopy expression that makes Crowley furious with how much he adores him.

Then he feels it. With his left hand covering his steaming face, he feels a gentle brush with his right hand. Where it lies on the armrest, he feels the graze, the barely-there feeling of Aziraphale’s pinky finger beside his. 

He likes to think that he does a good job of containing his feelings. He has compartmentalised his emotions for the whole of his long, long life. And if his love for Aziraphale were obvious, he thinks the angel would have done something about it by now. 

But maybe that’s changed. Maybe something had changed that night during the Blitz, because there is Aziraphale’s hand. 

Resting alongside his, touching.

Not moving away.

He can’t help but look down at them. A pinky finger very purposefully stretching out towards his. The shock of it plummets through him, makes his stomach swoop. The confusion of it overriding any kind of excitement or joy, his mouth going dry. And he can’t help but shift his gaze towards Aziraphale’s expression- which is wide eyed in alarm, lips pressed together and shoulders tense. Eyes fixed stoically on the screen.

The movie continues to play and Crowley absorbs no more of the plot than he already had. He doesn’t even pick any more bits and pieces of the dialogue. The mental white noise is too loud, drowns it all out. The smiles on their faces are illuminated by the cinema screen. 

When he moves his arm and slings it around Aziraphale’s shoulders, the angel makes no complaint.

***

Special thanks to @zzledri​ for bein’ a bud and screaming with me

[marlinspirkhall]

Tomorrow Never Comes, Chapter 05: “Resolution”

CW: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Chapter Word Count: 2,298 words

[Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6]

 “Tell me everything you learned when my memory kept getting wiped,” Jim says.

 “There is not much to tell. Leland and I attempted everything you and I have-” seeing Jim’s face, he pauses. “It was not a waste of time. Failure on the first attempt does not preclude the possibility of success on the second”

 The news that he was murdered multiple times hasn’t sparked any grand realisation as of yet. Mostly, it’s just made him angry, but he tries not to show it. Despite the recent realisation that their dilithium crystals have begun to drain, noticeably- confirming that they will run out, eventually- they sit side by side in a tense silence as the shuttle whizzes through space. Jim taps his fingers on his side of the dashboard, and turns to Spock.

 “Stop here; I want to try something.”

They land on the same planet as their first outing; but on a different beach, with actual sand.

 “For variety’s sake,” Jim says, with a slight smile.

“Variety,” Spock says, dryly, as they approach the shoreline. “I must admit; I thought you brought me here to kill me.”

“You- what?!” Jim wheels on him. “And you just- got in the shuttle?”

Spock tilts his head. “At the time, the reaction did not seem disproportionate.”

“Right.” Jim sits down on the sand, and looks up at him. “And now that you’re about to be- ah- executed?” He squints as he leans back, temporarily blinded by the iridescent sand.

Spock says nothing, and sits on the sand, a short distance from him. A strong breeze picks at strands of his hair, and Jim sighs.

After a moment, the sun begins to descend, and Jim looks up. “This is what I like about space travel. Even the sunset isn’t a fixed phenomenon. Theoretically- if you wanted to- you could manipulate it. Park your spaceship in a different position on the planet’s surface, so you could view it as many times as you liked. It’s not always spontaneous. But, if you’re really lucky, you get to experience this, with someone you-” he stops.

 “What?” Spock asks, quietly.

“Care about,” Jim finishes, softly. He clears his throat. “I mean, how many other people do you think have got to witness this exact view?”

Spock considers for a moment. “The Klingons,” he says, firmly.

 Jim laughs. “Spock, I-”

 A twinkle catches his eye.

The purple sunset dissolves into the vast tapestry of night, and, as the sand twinkles out, the sky itself becomes a glittering canvas. At the last moment, Jim turns to him, as the last embers of sunlight illuminate his hair.

“So, what do you want to do?” Jim whispers. “Do you want to chase the sunset? Have another go?”

Spock rests his head against his shoulder, and almost smiles.

As the days pass- or, don’t pass- they continue their attempts to escape. Sometimes, it looks like they might be getting somewhere- as far as they can while still avoiding Klingon space- but, at some point every morning, no matter how far they go, the clock resets. Heirin pulls them backwards like an elastic band, and they wake up back on the planet.

 “How far did we make it this time?”

 “Five point nine light years further than our last attempt.”

 Jim grits his teeth. “Then we should try going in that direction. Maybe we’re onto something.”

*

For the most part, the Iclixi have remained neutral in the Klingon-Romulan-Federation conflict, and, as a result, not much is known about them. Still, one thing is clear: they don’t like visitors.

“So, that’s why Leland asked me about base ten,” Jim says, breathless, as an asteroid explodes behind them. Escaping death has lost its excitement in some ways, but fleeing missiles- that’s fairly new.

Spock nods stiffly, his eyes locked on the controls, and Jim begins to use his own console to hack into the Iclixian database.

“Base six,” Jim murmurs, as he surveys the structure of the numbers on his console. “If it’s true that that these guys have four arms, then they must only have two digits on each hand.”

Spock runs a hand through his hair. “Jim-”

“I know.” Jim begins entering numbers frantically, and looks up. “What happened the first time you were here-?” The shuttle veers to the left.

Spock’s eyes dart to him, then back to the viewscreen.

“- Right.” Jim types faster. “Well, if I’m right, this should make us blind to their sensors.” And, if he’s wrong, they’ll find themselves back on Heirin.

With no memory of this.

He slams a button down at the same moment Spock pulls the shuttle into a nosedive. Outside the back window, the two missiles continue on a straight path, directly ahead. Jim waits with baited breath, but no more missiles are deployed.

He collapses back in his chair with an exhausted whoop.

They make their way through the rest of the Iclixi system without further disturbance, and Jim’s eyelids begin to droop.

 “How long have we been awake?” He yawns.

 “Twenty seven hours and… thirteen minutes,” Spock replies.

 Jim pats him on the shoulder. “Are you sure you don’t want to sleep first?”

“Negative. Vulcans-”

“Require less sleep than humans, I know.” Jim rises, and curls up at the back of the shuttle, with a tired smile. This time, he thinks, as he drifts off, we might actually make it.

 Jim rolls over, and snuggles into something soft. He feels well-rested.

 Which only means one thing.

 His eyes snap open, and he sits bolt upright. “Spock.”

He rushes to the main bedroom, and throws the door open. The room is much more orderly than it was before. Spock opens his eyes, and sits up suddenly,

“Jim?” He reaches for him, frowning. “I did not fall asleep-”

“I know,” Jim murmurs, “But what happened? What’s the last thing you remember?” He takes hold of Spock’s hands, and kneels on the edge of the bed, checking him over- although, of course; there isn’t a scratch on him.

“I… blinked,” Spock realises.

Jim slumps.

 They can’t take shifts blinking.

*

As they begin to search for alternate routes through Klingon space, Jim finds something which he’d previously overlooked.

 Boreth.

‘There’s a planet in the Klingon empire called ‘Boreth’ which is the only place in the known universe to contain a mineral known as ‘poH qut’. Translated to Standard, it means ‘time crystal’.’ Jim had never heard of them before, but the more he reads, the more familiar it sounds. For the most part, research on them is scarce, but there are isolated reports- mostly anecdotal- of users becoming trapped in time loops, triggered either intentionally or accidentally. In both instances, though, the loop is triggered by the spilling of innocent blood.

Jim cross-references it with any references to poH qut in the Klingon databases, only to come up short: the Klingons abandoned all experiments with time crystals centuries ago, and the ones which remain on Boreth are closely guarded by an order of monks. There is something, though. Rumours that one of the experiments resulted in a time crystal being hidden at the very core of a planet, before

“...But, even if there is a time crystal at the heart of this planet, that doesn’t help us,” Jim muses. “We don’t have the equipment to locate it or dig it up.”

Spock raises an eyebrow, and says nothing.

 Jim claps him on the shoulder. “We’ll find a way out.”

*

 Jim’s desperation only increases as things begin to break around the stronghold. For the moment, it’s mostly small, minor electrical errors- a wire needs reattaching on an upper wall, one of the consoles in the server room stops working, but there are plenty of backups- for now.

 They run into problems whenever something needs replacing. They salvage a couple of items from the basement, but the only replacement bulb they can find for the downstairs bathroom emits a bright, irradiated green. Spock begins to exclusively use the upstairs bathroom, explaining that such unrelenting green is every bit as unpalatable to Vulcan retinas as red would be to humans.

 Seeing as the shuttle has never been blown up before, the possibility limits the risks they can take, and the experiment is understandably one which they are reluctant to proceed with. If the shuttle doesn’t regenerate, they’ll be even more stuck than before, without a means of escape. Just as Lewis McAllister should have been. The report implies that McAllister simply omitted the miraculous tale of how his dead crew and ship were resurrected each morning before his miraculous escape… But, given the state that the shuttle and the stronghold are currently in, he doubts that was the case. He sighs, and goes over the information that they have once again, from day one to now.

 “I suspect,” Spock says, quietly, “The only reason Leland would have needed to learn the hacking procedure himself was if he was planning to kill me.”

 Jim holds his hand out, and, tentatively, Spock takes it.

*

 “Alright, new plan,” Jim says, as he steps out of the forest, his shirt spattered with blood. “We do what we came here to do.”

 Spock blinks at him, possibly confused by the blood stains.

 “I mean: I take the outpost down, then we travel out to meet whoever Section-31 is sending. I mean, what have we got to lose? If we get it wrong, won’t we just wake back up here again?”

 “With no memory of this,” Spock points out.

 Jim sighs. “I’ve thought of that. And- has it ever occurred to you that we

 Spock shakes his head. “The first day I remember, the stronghold was as it was the day before. And, we can tell

 “If we can work out some sort of back-up-plan, a way to send a message to ourselves in case our memories get erased again…” Jim glances at the shuttle, and heads towards the server room.

*

 As they fly through space, Jim turns to Spock with a nervous smile.

 “So. Who’s coming to meet us?”

 A shadow flickers across Spock’s face. “Agent Georgiou.”

 “Georgiou?” Jim frowns. “Phillipa Georgiou? Wasn’t she a Starfleet Captain? I thought she was killed in the battle at the binary stars?”

 Spock’s eyes flash. “She is not who she appears to be,” he says. “Whatever you think; you cannot trust her.” As usual, his expression is unreadable.

 The shuttle bleeps, as an unseen ship hails them. It pulls into view up ahead

 There’s a strange, unfamiliar weapon on the top of the ship, jutting out at the font. It’s twice as long as the hull of the shuttle, and looks as if it’s been compacted down. The front of it is coiled, like some sort of drill-bit. Before Jim can question it further, Spock answers the hail- audio only.

 “Agent Georgiou,” he murmurs.

 “Spock. I almost shot you out of the sky,” the voice purrs. “You’re early. A day early.”

 Spock straightens. “And yet, our mission is complete.”

 “Hm.” There’s a bleep as she, presumably, verifies that claim. “You work fast.”

 Spock exchanges a look with Jim. “Indeed.”

 There’s a pause.

 “Where’s Leland?” Her voice acquires a dangerous edge.

 “He is- on board.”

 “Hm. Unconscious, presumably; otherwise he would have answered me himself.”

 “We had a- trying day,” Spock says, haltingly.

 Jim’s heart hammers in his chest, and he squeezes Spock’s shoulder.

 “Scan us,” Spock says.

 “Oh, I did. There are two life-signs on your ship. One human, one half-Vulcan. I have no guarantee that Leland is one of them.”

 There’s a pause.

 “Unless you turn on your vidscreen, of course.”

 “It was damaged in our escape with The Klingons.”

 “How convenient. I assume Leland was injured, as well?”

 “Yes.”

 There’s a beat.

 “How do I know that the boy isn’t on board with you?”

 “Because we stuck to the plan,” Spock says.

 Jim breathes shallowly, and twists his hands together in his lap.

 Georgiou’s laugh is distorted. “Plans change. Still, I do not intend to deviate from mine. I was only instructed to meet you and Leland.”

 “You were never fond of Leland.”

 “That’s true. In many ways, you’ve done me a favour.”

 “Spock-” Jim whispers, as the computer readout flashes up red.

 “You can do me another favour.”

 “She’s locked on weapons-”

 The proximity alert bleeps. Spock’s hands find the controls the same time Jim’s do, and they slam the ship into a wild dive. A second later, something glances off the side of the ship, and they’re thrown sideways. Spock cries out. Jim crashes head first into the wall, and his vision goes double.

“Spock…” Jim says, as his eyes flutter shut.

*

 The hum of an engine. Jim’s head throbs.

 He sits up with a groan. The shuttle is adrift, and Spock is slouched over the controls, clutching his side and breathing heavily.

“Spock-”

 He crawls over to him, and pulls himself into the seat next to him. He touches Spock’s shoulder, and his eyelids flutter. He groans.

 “Come on, Spock.” He pulls Spock’s hand away, and it’s green with blood. Cursing, he pulls his jacket off, and winds it round his torso, but it soaks through quickly. Jim’s eyes widen.

 If he remembers correctly, Vulcan hearts are further down than humans’.

 Heart pounding, he runs to the back of the shuttle, and tears the medkit open. Though the bandages and the dermal regenerator have long since been depleted, he knows that he’s seen-

 A hypospray. He grabs it. With one last glance back at Spock, he fills it with a cartridge of anaesthetic. Enough to knock himself out, he hopes. He takes a deep breath. He sits down heavily, places it against his neck, and discharges it with a hiss.

[Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6]

[highkey-lowkey-as-hell]

Girls Like Girls Like Boys Do (Nothing New)

Summary: Kate’s best friend Eva is all she’s ever wanted, and if she has to get into a fight to prove it, then goddamnit, she’ll fight the whole world. Otherwise known as a Girls Like Girls music video au.

Trigger warnings: Blood, fighting, cussing, alcohol

Word count: 1619

~~~~~

Kate was very disappointed when the person who opened the door was Chad, and not Eva.

"Hey, Kate," he slurred, more drunk than she would have liked.

"Hi," she said shortly. A smile ghosted across her lips when Eva appeared over Chad's shoulder.

"Kate, hi!" she said eagerly, ducking under her boyfriend's arm to hug her.

"Hey, Eva," Kate said quietly, relishing the two second hug.

"God, it's good to see you."

"I was only out of town for the weekend."

"I know, but I missed you." Eva smiled at her, and Kate's stomach fluttered. "Come in."

Once Kate had put her bike in the side yard, she walked into the kitchen to see Eva sitting cross-legged on the counter, lighting a cigarette, while Chad grabbed another beer from the fridge. Kate hopped up next to Eva as she took a pull, smiling when she blew the smoke into her face.

"Here," Eva said quietly, putting the cigarette between Kate's lips. Kate took a breath, then lifted her hand to take the cigarette from Eva and lowered it from her lips, letting the smoke rise from her mouth. 

She used to pretend she was a dragon the first few times she and Eva had smoked together - now she only did that in her head.

"So," Eva said as she lit another cigarette, letting Kate keep the first. "How was the cabin?"

"Boring," she said honestly. "My family is the worst at conversation and I left the book I've been reading at home."

"Seriously? You never do that."

"It was like 5 AM, I was exhausted, cut me some slack." Kate tapped the cigarette against the edge of the counter, scared to meet Eva's eyes in case it did something to her. "How did you survive three whole days without me?"

"Just barely." And oh, Eva's smile… it reminded Kate of everything she loved about her.

And that was a long, long list.

"Let's go swimming," Chad suggested, breaking into Kate's thoughts. She sighed and turned to look at him.

"I didn't bring a bathing suit."

"You can borrow one of mine," Eva assured her. Her smile had faded just a touch when Chad spoke, which probably wasn't what was supposed to happen, considering he was her boyfriend.

God, Kate hated Chad.

"C'mon." Eva crushed her cigarette against the counter, took Kate's and put that one out, and then grabbed her hand and pulled her off the counter. "You want the black one?"

"Sure."

~~~~~

Kate stared at herself in the mirror as she pulled her hair into a ponytail and herself together. Behind her, not facing her, Eva was changing, too, and Kate tried not to blush at the reflection of her bare back. She looked away and picked up her own bathing suit - well, Eva's, she was just borrowing it - and grit her teeth.

Eva wasn't hers to stare at.

She had to constantly remind herself of that.

Like last week - she, Chad, and Eva had driven out to the abandoned field at the edge of town. Eva had turned on the car radio and danced along while Chad hit a couple baseballs around, oblivious to how fucking lucky he was to have Eva.

And Kate had stared at her.

She'd stared at beautiful, beautiful Eva, who danced even though neither of her companions were and didn't seem to care, whose hair blew in the wind and whose perfect lips were curved in the prettiest smile in the world.

Kate had stared then, because she felt like she could get away with it. But today she looked away and changed and wondered if Eva found it difficult to look away, too.

She doubted it.

~~~~~

Is she even human? Kate wondered as Eva smiled at her, her mouth underwater and looking just as beautiful as ever. There was no way a human could be that perfect, no fucking way.

She lifted a hand and splashed a little water in Eva's face, and Eva made a little noise of protest and splashed her back. Kate smiled, but it quickly disappeared when Chad shouted a "GERONIMO!" and cannonballed into the pool, sending a huge wave of water over both of their heads.

Eva forced a laugh, and Kate found herself thinking about Eva's real, genuine laugh. She wondered when the last time that laugh had been caused by Chad had been.

She bet it had been a while.

After only about fifteen minutes, Kate had had enough of being in the pool with Chad when he was that drunk, so she climbed up onto the edge and started to wring out her hair. Eva climbed up next to her, and they sat there together, so close Kate thought she might explode.

You have no idea how badly I want you.

Chad stumbled out of the pool and reached for his beer, collapsing into a deck chair and taking a swig. Eva stared resolutely at the ripples in the water, and Kate kicked her feet a little to make more, smiling when Eva did.

Kate's hair was almost dry by the time Chad staggered to his feet and went inside, shouting over his shoulder to Eva that he was gonna have some friends over.

Eva rolled her eyes and stood up, and Kate accepted the hand that pulled her to her feet. "Guess we'd better go get cleaned up, then," Eva murmured, and Kate managed a smile back, trying not to think about how close Eva's lips were to hers.

Which, of course, meant that she was thinking of nothing else.

~~~~~

“Babe, get up,” Chad said harshly, yanking Eva to her feet in the middle of her conversation with Kate. He kissed her, hard and intense, groping, and Kate looked into the bottom of her cup, a ball of hot anger in her stomach, burning and hurting.

Eva deserved better than that.

“Get off of me,” Eva muttered, shoving Chad away and plopping back down next to Kate with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “So, like I was saying…”

That party lasted way too long. By the time everyone was gone, Kate was hiding in the corner of the bathroom, tired of everyone trying to talk to her. When she didn’t hear any more talking coming from the living room, she carefully looked down the hallway and started walking, running her hand over the pictures on the wall.

She stopped next to one - her and Eva’s silhouettes against the setting sun over the ocean, a picture taken over three years ago when they went on a spontaneous road trip.

That was before Eva had met Chad.

Kate looked away.

Everyone else was gone. Chad was passed out in an armchair, and Kate carefully stepped past him, terrified of waking him up and provoking the anger that the beer dangling from his hand had undoubtedly produced. Eva was sitting at the edge of the pool, staring into the water, not smiling.

“Hey,” Kate said quietly, tugging her jacket closer around her shoulders despite the heat. “Are you okay?”

Eva shrugged.

Kate sat next to her but didn’t look at her, instead stared at the water. She barely dared to breathe as Eva leaned her head on her shoulder, terrified her blush was going to give her away. She risked a glance at Eva, who was looking at her, and - did Eva just glance at her lips?

“Kate…”

Oh my God.

Eva was definitely staring at her lips now. Then she moved just a little closer - Kate could feel her breath on her lips - her eyes started to close-

And then there was a hand in her hair, yanking her to her feet and tossing her into the low brick wall surrounding the garden.

Kate slowly, carefully rolled onto her back, staring up at the clouds. She was vaguely aware of how suddenly cold she was without her jacket, of the stinging on her lip and cheek, of the bleeding where she’d hit the brick, of Chad yelling at Eva-

No.

“Look at me!” he was screaming, but Eva still stared at her feet, shaking and close to tears. And that was what set her off.

Kate scrambled to her feet and threw herself at Chad, shoving him to the ground and then hitting, hitting, hitting, adrenaline pumping through her veins.

Kate and Eva on the beach, laughing, carefree.

Kate and Eva dancing in the bedroom, catching each other when they almost slipped.

Kate and Eva after box-dying their hair, sitting on the bathroom floor and waiting for their hair to dry.

Kate and Eva being happy.

Kate falling in love with Eva.

Kate loving and wanting so desperately it hurt.

Kate thinking Eva would never love or want her back.

Kate wondering if maybe she’d been wrong.

“Kate, stop it. Kate, stop!” Eva’s voice pulled her from her thoughts, and Kate went limp, letting Eva pull her to her feet. Eva was crying as she rubbed blood away from Kate’s lower lip, and Kate realized she was crying, too. “Oh, Kate…”

“Eva-”

“Kate, I’m so sorry.” And then Eva was kissing her.

Kate kissed back, pouring all the years of want into it, the years of knowing she could be what Eva needed, the years of knowing Eva was what she needed, the years of loving and loving and loving until she thought she would burst.

It was a messy kiss. It tasted like tears and a little bit like blood. But maybe it meant Kate could finally, finally have Eva.

Eva was all she’d ever wanted.

~~~~~

Kate rode her bike home with a bloody face and a missing jacket.

She rode her bike home with a smile and a full heart.

[purplepersnicketywrites]

Could you try 9 for kiribaku if you’re still doing requests? :))

things you said when i was crying

*minecraft villager noise*

___

By the look on Bakugou’s face, Eijirou suspected that he was supposed to think that he was making a rather large mistake. The blond was grinning, but not in a friendly way. It was slightly predatory, as if he was preparing for Eijirou to falter so that he could swoop in with a smug laugh and an ‘I told you so.’ It was irritating but also kinda hot, so Eijirou didn’t really mind.

He inspected the piece of meat held between his chopsticks.

If Eijirou didn’t know any better, he would have assumed the meat was innocent, that the colour on it was merely from the combination of sauces and spices it had marinaded in before cooking. Well, that wasn’t totally untrue, but it was a matter of which sauces. Some would be benign. Some would not.

Like, for instance, capsaicin oil. Also known as (at least in Eijirou’s opinion) the concentrated sweat of all the damned beings rotting in the underworld. This substance was the stuff that gave heat to chili peppers, the stuff that induced that awful, terrible burning sensation that Bakugou liked so much.

The heat wasn’t real, of course, but the capsaicin fooled the mouth into thinking it was. It got into the temperature detecting nerves and played havoc.

This particular meat was part of a range of Bakugou’s favourite dishes at a restaurant known for its stupidly spicy meals. It was Bakugou’s turn to pay this week, so he was the one who got to pick the place to eat at. It was apparent to Eijirou that this place was payback for him being ‘embarrassing’ at their last outing together.

‘Embarrassing’ was, of course, code for ‘Bakugou got too flustered by Eijirou’s obvious flirting and exploded a menu’. Honestly. One of these days they were going to stop dancing around this Thing between them and admit that these outings were dates. The main obstacle was Bakugou’s understandable hesitancy over the whole declaration of feelings stuff, but really, the moment Eijirou got the go-ahead to kiss his best friend he wasn’t ever going to stop.

Anyways. The spicy meat. Eijirou knew that Bakugou was expecting Eijirou to crumble in the face of such an object. Maybe have a spice-related breakdown in the middle of the restaurant. Thing was… Eijirou had a Secret Plan to deal with exactly this sort of situation.

He ate the meat. Eijirou chewed it, slowly, so that he could watch the gradual, delicious change in Bakugou’s expression as it became clearer and clearer that Eijirou wasn’t going to even blink. Eijirou swallowed.

“What the fuck,” Bakugou hissed, having transformed from gleeful gremlin to grouchy grump.

Eijirou took a swig of water to make sure he washed everything out of his handily-hardened mouth before he responded. “You call that spicy?”

“You cheated,” Bakugou said, narrowing his eyes as he sat back in his chair and folded his arms. “I don’t fucking know how, but you cheated.”

“Oh? Are we playing a game?” Eijirou said, leaning forwards to flutter his eyelashes a little. He privately thanked the genetics lottery for giving him the power to turn into a non-porous rock specifically. Huh. Imagine if he became like basalt? Would he float in water instead of sinking? Would-

“You know what I mean,” Bakugou said, pouting off to the side. There was a little colour smudged over his cheeks and Eijirou mentally high-fived his brain.

Eijirou just ate another chunk of meat. Pork? It was hard to actually taste at all thanks to his hardening. He took another swig of water. “S’good! Don’t forget to eat yours!”

“I bet they forgot to season it,” Bakugou muttered darkly, plucking up a piece from Eijirou’s plate.

“Hey!” Eijirou said. “That’s mine.”

“I paid for it,” Bakugou ate it with a glare and then pulled a face. “Okay, what the hell are you doing?”

Eijirou beamed at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Blasty.”

“Yes you do you-” Bakugou cut himself off mid-insult. He sighed. “You big dumb rock. You’re using your fucking quirk, aren’t you?”

“Your words, not mine,” Eijirou snorted. Damn, Bakugou had sniffed him out already. “Aren’t you impressed by my fine control, though? I had to practice for ages so I wouldn’t turn my lips to stone, too.”

That got Bakugou staring at Eijirou’s mouth, which counted as a big win in his books. Bakugou seemed to realise what he was doing all too quickly and turned his attention back to his own plate. “Whatever.”

Oh yeah, it wouldn’t be long now. Some day very soon would roll around and Bakugou would finally reach for his hand. Eijirou didn’t feel bad about pushing things sometimes - he’d tried to back off once when he thought his feelings weren’t reciprocated and that had just ended in Bakugou not-so-subtly hinting that Eijirou should go back to ‘normal’.

The rest of the meal went by smoothly, Bakugou rolling his eyes as Eijirou ate his food without a sweat and Eijirou nodding along to stuff his friend was saying.

All too soon they were on their way back to the dorms. It was nice, Eijirou thought, that now they were in their third year they were allowed to go out for short trips be themselves. The school wouldn’t be able to give everyone bodyguards after graduation, after all.

It was also nice to walk side-by-side with Bakugou in companionable silence. Eijirou very much looked forwards to the time when they could be holding hands as they went, too.

The Heights Alliance building came into view, and Eijirou heard the sound of paper tearing. Huh. He turned to look at Bakugou. The blond had a very weird expression on his face, but Eijirou didn’t have time to ask what was up because all of a sudden there was a hand tugging at the collar of his shirt and a pair of lips meeting his own.

Holy shit.

Eijirou responded eagerly. Greedily, even, clutching at Bakugou to bring him closer. He melted into the kiss, surprised but not displeased in the slightest when Bakugou slipped his tongue into his mouth. Bakugou kissed with aggression and fire, almost burning in the way that he- Wait a second.

The burning wasn’t metaphorical. Eijirou’s mouth felt like it had been set alight, and that wasn’t typically supposed to happen in a kiss as far as he was aware. He pulled back from Bakugou, detached his limbs, saw the triumphant look in his best friend’s eyes and felt the burning sensation increase. Oh. Holy fucking shit. Bakugou was an absolute bastard and Eijrou liked him so damn much.

“Did you just hot sauce me?”

Bakugou grinned and held up a small empty packet labelled ‘XXX SUPER HOT’.

“You’re an asshole,” Eijirou said, panting and feeling himself break into a sweat. Spice tears began to pool at the corner of his eyes and he leant foward to put his hands on his knees. Maybe if he jumped into a pool of ice he could stave off this feeling?

“Yeah,” Bakugou agreed. “You good?”

“I’m dying,” Eijirou said, dropping to the ground and rolling onto the grass. “Call the fire brigade, Blasty. I need water!”

“Nah, water makes it worse,” Bakugou said, looking down at Eijirou with amusement. Holy shit he’d just kissed Eijirou for the first time. “What you want is sweetened milk.”

Eijirou groaned. He was sure his nose was streaming along with his eyes now. It was only because of the spice. That was the only reason he was teary. “Call the milk brigade, then.”

“Dramatic. There’s milk in the kitchen,” Bakugou said, kicking lightly at Eijirou’s side.

“Ugh, I think I’m gonna spontaneously combust from the face down,” Eijirou stuck his arm up so that Bakugou could help him to stand. Once he was on his feet, he moved Bakugou’s hand to the other of his own and linked their fingers together. Heh. Bakugou didn’t even try to pull his hand away! “Today was nice until you tried to murder me. With your tongue, what the fuck? Not that I’m complaining about the tongue bit - that was great - but the hot sauce?”

Bakugou looked almost unbearably smug. “That’s what you get for cheating.”

“What, poisoned kisses?” Eijirou asked, fanning himself with his free hand. “I cannot believe you used our first kiss as a prank. I mean, I can, but like,” He paused his fanning for a moment. “You know what? Worth it. You should definitely kiss me again. Without the pain.”

Bakugou turned a little pink and pulled Eijirou towards the Alliance building. “Maybe I will.”

He did.

[ersatzworlds]

Out of Sand (ateez mingi oneshot)

Warnings: Vague mention of death

Genres: Slight fluff, unintentional angst

Word count: 2.0k

A/N: Wanted this to be done for Halloween but I’m soooo damn late lol

The heavy metal door opened with a loud bang. It echoed above the city, over the quiet streets below. You had never intended to make so much noise. You were meant to be discreet, but you couldn’t be bothered anymore. You were too focused on him. Your ears drowned in the sound of his little giggles, taking them in like a song. You looked back at him to find a toothy smile on his face, his crescent eyes meeting yours. The sight made your heart melt and your knees weak, and you found yourself giggling along with him.

“Are you sure we can be up here?” you whispered, though you were only half serious. “Because I’m pretty sure this is trespassing.”

“Don’t worry, I do this all the time,” he answered, grinning wide. He lead you to the edge of the rooftop.

You were almost certain that you were both breaking a few laws, but you trusted him. You trusted him, despite only meeting him a mere eleven hours ago. Strangely, he gave you a sense of comfort, a sense of security. There was something that attracted you to him, something that went beyond looks. It had pulled you to him when you spotted him across the room at your friend’s party earlier, standing by himself on the sidelines of the crowd. You’d kept your eye on him for a few minutes before deciding to approach him. He had introduced himself as Mingi. You had spoken to each other—maybe flirted a little—and next thing you knew, you were leaving the place together. The decision was unlike you, but once you had ditched the place, you would not regret it.

Mingi had guided you on a spontaneous trip around the city to explore its evening beauty. It was wholesome and completely unexpected, though you weren’t sure what you had expected when you had left with him. Hours of strolling up and down streets, of talking about anything and everything, of stealing shy glances at each other had went by in the blink of an eye, much faster than you would have liked. You both had wanted to do one more thing together before parting ways, which led you to this rooftop.

“Look, we made it just in time,” Mingi said, pointing towards the sun that slowly began to rise behind the concrete buildings. It was only then that you realized the night sky beginning to change: midnight blue turned light, and soft yellows and oranges tinted the sky.

“It’s beautiful,” you mumble, not taking your eyes off the picture perfect view. You leaned against the rooftop railing, immersed in the show of colours.

Mingi hummed in response. He turned to you after a moment. You looked back at him. The morning rays made his skin glow. Shadows were cast on his face, defining his features. His gaze was soft and a little lost, his eyes a little glassy. They looked straight into yours. “Beautiful,” he repeated.

Despite the cheesiness of his timing, you couldn’t help but blush. A small smile curled the corners of your lips, and you looked down in an attempt to hide it. His hand lay near yours on the railing, and you had a strong urge to hold it. Mingi had respected your personal space the whole night, for which you were thankful, but suddenly you craved his touch.

“This may sound really stupid,” you begin as you stepped closer to him; a bold move to make considering how nervous you were, “but I feel like I’ve known you my whole life.” Your eyes averted his for a few more moments, deciding to focus on the necklace around his neck—an hourglass.

Mingi’s other hand carefully moved up to your face, but stopped before his fingertips could graze your skin. His hand hovered; he was nervous too. On the railing, your hand inched closer to his. When your fingers touched and intertwined, Mingi let himself caress your cheek. His skin was soft but cold, almost icy. You leaned into his touch and looked up at him, meeting his gaze once more. He leaned down slowly, closing the space between you two. Your eyes fluttered close, awaiting the feeling of his lips on yours.

...

You think about that night often. Nine months have passed since then, and you have yet to see Mingi again. You never got his number so you couldn’t call him. You asked your friends about him, looking for a way to get in contact with him after that night. But they didn’t know of him. He disappeared, vanished. It’s your very own Cinderella story, though instead of a glass slipper, all Mingi left behind were your memories of his smile and a lingering feeling of his touches on your skin.

Today in particular you’re thinking about Mingi a lot. From the moment you woke up, you had him on your mind. The thought came with a strange feeling in your chest that you did not know how to interpret. The feeling poked at your heart the whole morning as you got ready to leave for school. Now as you stand at a crosswalk, waiting for the lights to change, the feeling travels up to your throat, forcing you to hold your breath.

You look across the street. Standing at the corner is Mingi. Your heart feels as if it’s about to explode. You do a double take. You’re not mistaken; it really is him. You spot a smile on his face as he looks your way—he notices you. When the traffic lights change, you cross the street, trying not to smile too wide, trying not to run towards him. He waits for you on the other side, and you find it harder to hold your excitement as you get closer.

“It’s been a minute,” you say when you stand directly before him. You fail to suppress your grin.

A small smile adorns his lips. “It has.” The two of you stand still, silently staring into each other’s eyes.

Although he seems taller than you remembered, Mingi hasn’t changed much since you last saw him. His gaze is still gentle, and his voice still sends a slight tingle down the back of your neck. His features are simultaneously soft and hard, giving him an enigmatic attractiveness. The longer you stare at him, the more weak you feel in the knees.

Mingi is the first to break eye contact. He clears his throat as he looks around. You remember that you’re both standing at the corner of an intersection. He rubs the back of his neck, his words coming out rushed. “I want to apologize for disappearing for so long. I don’t know what I was thinking. I should have—”

You look at him expectantly, waiting for him to finish. He blinks before swallowing his words. He restarts, slower this time, “What I mean is… it would have been nice if we had crossed each other sooner. I really enjoyed myself last time we went out.”

You smile and nod happily. “I’m glad life has allowed us to meet again.” Mingi looks as if he wants to say something, but he just smiles. “If you aren’t busy right now, would you like to go somewhere, maybe grab a coffee?” you suggest.

“Don’t you have classes today?” he comments playfully.

You shrug. “It won’t make much of a difference if I skip one day.”

Mingi chuckles. “Alright, I’ll take you up on that offer. But rather than getting coffee, I think I have something better in mind.”

“Lead the way. I’m up for anything.”

The two of you walk down the street. He lets you update him on your life. You tell him stories from the past nine months, ones that you planned to tell him when—if ever—you saw him again; ones that you’ve practically rehearsed in your head. He listens intently, gazing over to you with what, you believe, can only be adoration. It puts a permanent smile on your face, but you can’t help but notice that he’s acting a little different. It bothers you to your very core.

Mingi brings you into a building, taking you up a flight of stairs. You don’t realize its familiarity until you reach the top. It makes you giggle.

“I still think this is trespassing,” you joke, looking around the rooftop you still remember fondly. You come face to face with Mingi at the same spot you stood together months ago. His eyes look sad, you now notice. He stays close to you, his hand cupping your cheek. It’s colder than you remember. You put your hand over his. “What’s wrong, Mingi?”

He glances at your lips for a moment, but he takes a step back with a sigh. “It’s difficult to explain.”

“You can tell me. I wanna help you in any way I can.”

Mingi doesn’t look at you. You squeeze his arm to get his attention, but he doesn’t budge. You fall silent. Only the faint sound of the traffic below echoes between you two. His mouth opens and closes a few times before he finally speaks. “Theoretically,” he begins quietly, “if the sand flowing in an hourglass begins to run out, but someone turns the hourglass over before the last grains fall, what happens to the countdown?”

You take a second to answer, trying to understand his question. “Turning over the hourglass would simply allow the sand to flow back, so technically the timer would just continue,” you answer slowly.

“And if that person were to continue to do this process,” he adds, “but some of the sand spills out every time the hourglass is flipped over, what happens then?”

“Well, eventually there won’t be any sand left. That’s when the time runs out.”

Mingi nods. He clears his throat to speak in a normal voice. “You know… my job is usually pretty simple. It’s redundant and draining at times, but there’s always something interesting happening.”

When he says this, you realize that Mingi has never actually told you about his job. He lifts his head. His eyes are watery. “But I made a huge mistake. I messed up because I was selfish, and I just kept messing up and… and…”

You take hold of Mingi’s hands. Your thumbs brush over his skin, trying to calm him. You wait for him to catch his breath. He calls your name softly. You hum in response.

“Do you remember when you were five, the day you were in that car accident?” he says suddenly, to your surprise. You don’t remember telling Mingi about your accident.

“How… how do you know about that?”

“And when you were nine, you got really sick and you were stuck in the hospital for weeks,” he continued softly. “And when you were thirteen you fell and hit your head—”

“Wait.”

“—and at sixteen you fainted at school.”

“How do you know about all that?” you repeat, your voice unstable. By now, you’ve taken a step back, letting go of Mingi’s hands.

“I was there… I was there after your accident when you were five. I was there when you were nine, when you were thirteen, when you were sixteen, eighteen, twenty.”

“I don’t understand.”

You’re shaking.

“Nine months ago, on the night that you met me, your drink was heavily spiked. You overdosed. You… you weren’t supposed to survive.”

Something in Mingi’s appearance changes before your eyes. There’s a glow to him, like dark mist, and a thin black shadow extends behind him in the shape of an angular hook. The necklace around his neck becomes very apparent all of a sudden; an empty hourglass. You don’t yet notice the tears on his cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes. There is so much pain in his voice; its sincerity breaks your heart. “I should’ve just done my job properly when you were younger. You could’ve been resting peacefully for years now. But instead I convinced myself that I was saving you. I kept coming back to you and I got attached to you… I loved you…”

Mingi approaches you. You’re frozen in place. With his cold hands on your shoulders, he whispers, “I don’t want to let you go, but I can’t keep you alive anymore. I’m sorry.”

[otterlydeerlightful]

LazyTown Ship Week #4

I admit, I gave myself the Feels writing this. --------------------------------------------------------

The pounding at his window jolted the boy from his video game. He looked up in surprised confusion, startled to see the long, familiar face of Robbie Rotten, the laziest man in all of LazyTown, looking at him with almost comically large eyes. They stared at one another in silence for a few long seconds before Robbie rapped loudly on the window once again.

“Prickle!” he whined, his voice muffled by the glass. “I need your help!”

The boy, whose actual name was Pixel, lifted himself from his computer chair and crossed the room. He opened his window and watched the tall man carefully. It wasn’t every day that the town’s biggest ne’er-do-well came to a child’s window begging for help. The entire thing was highly suspicious, but Pixel couldn’t quite ignore the uncomfortable feeling that the adult’s panic-stricken eyes ignited in him. Whatever was wrong, Robbie seemed to be genuine in his desperation.

“I really need your help, Pimple. If you can’t help me, no one in this God-forsaken town can. Will you help me? Please?”

He hesitated. This was Robbie Rotten, after all. What good ever came from talking with him?

“What’s the problem, exactly?” the boy heard himself asking.

Robbie’s hiked shoulders relaxed a bit. Only slightly, but the relief from Pixel’s words was obvious.

“I—I need your help. I have this robot, you see, and…and something’s wrong! I can’t figure out where the problem is and you’re the only other person in town smart enough to help! Please, I don’t know what to do!”

Pixel blinked. Robot? What would Robbie Rotten need with a robot? And were those…tears in his eyes? Okay, maybe the guy wasn’t pulling a prank on him. Pixel would feel terrible if he turned Robbie away when he really needed help.

“Okay, fine. Let me get my tools.”

Robbie wet his lips nervously. “And…and a computer, too! A good one! M-meet me at the billboard outside of town. And be quick about it!”

With that, the tall, lanky figure raced off. Pixel leaned out his window, watching the man all but run down the street. He shook his head and blinked in disbelief, watching the fellow LazyTowner disappear down the road.

“Robbie Rotten…running?” he asked aloud to no one before closing his bedroom window again. Pixel shook his head once again. “Now I’ve seen everything.”

*****

“Took you long enough!” Robbie snapped upon seeing the boy walk up the lane to the billboard. “Er…I mean…thanks for coming.” He swallowed, running a hand through his unusually unkept hair. “Really. I mean it.”

Pixel offered an awkward smile at the mixed greeting. “So, uh…where’s the robot?”

“Inside. Come on,” Robbie said, waving for Pixel to follow him as he hurried through a door in the billboard that the boy had never known was there before.

He blinked and shook his head before following the man. Might as well go with the already-weird flow, after all. Pixel closed the door behind him, figuring it would be impolite to just leave it swinging open, and looked around for Robbie. The man shouted something to him before jumping down the opening to what looked like…an underground silo? A land submarine? Pixel rubbed his eyes, yet still the strange purple tube with its lifted lid remained.

“Man, how do I get myself into these things?” he mumbled to himself, walking over, climbing the short ladder and, with a gulp, sliding down into the darkness.

The boy landed on his feet, though he nearly lost his balance once the weight of his backpack hit him. He caught himself, readjusted the straps, and took a look around at…wherever they were. His mouth fell open at the sight of the expansive room he beheld. Did Robbie actually live here? The boy looked around at his surroundings in awe. There was a weird shaggy-looking orange chair in the center of it, a matching lamp beside it. Along the back wall was a series of tubes, all filled with colorful costumes, and some sort of pipe organ attached to them. Probably a control panel, he decided, but what did it do? Before his curiosity could be satisfied, though, his attention was drawn to a series of work tables and benches on the opposite side of the room.

“Oh, wow,” he whispered, approaching one of the tables.

This had to be it. The lumps and parts strewn across it definitely looked like a half-assembled robot, even if it was partially covered by a sheet. A ballerina, maybe? At least, parts of one. Not all the limbs were attached yet, most of the circuitry was exposed, and half of it wasn’t even painted. A partially finished head sat on a pedestal nearby, the expressionless face not yet complete, though a dark wig sat nearby waiting.

“Is this it?” he asked.

“Is what…? No, not her! Don’t touch, she’s not finished yet!” Robbie hollered, though his voice sounded abnormally shaky. “This one, over here!”

Pixel turned toward Robbie’s voice to see the man hunched over something on the floor near the corner of the room. The mass, he quickly realized, looked human. Definitely the robot. Still marveling over the fact that the town outcast was apparently making such amazing, advanced-looking mechanical creations in a secret underground bunker, Pixel trotted over to see what he could do to help.

This robot was much bigger than the first, the size of a grown man, in fact. It...looked like it could be a real man, actually, if not for a few lines at the joints and other minor details. The craftsmanship was amazingly impressive. The face was so detailed, complete with a messy mop of blond hair and one of the weirdest mustaches Pixel had ever seen. Some kind of camouflaged antenna, maybe. It looked real, like it was just a regular guy who happened to be asleep on the floor. What gave it away, though, was the gaping torso. It looked like Robbie had already taken off the robot’s vest and pulled up their shirt to open a few panels to take a look inside.

“Wow…this is amazing, Robbie!”

“It’s not amazing!” the man snapped. “He’s hurt! W-we were running tests on the waterproof casings and…and everything looked fine, but then…” Robbie’s voice fell the longer he spoke. “We overdid it, and…I tried to get him back to the table but he…” He sniffled. “He’s too heavy for me to move him and…I really need your help, Pencil. I don’t know where else I can go. I don’t…I don’t even know if he’s still in there or if he’s…if he’s…”

The boy looked back and forth between man and machine. Robbie was really attached to this thing, wasn’t he? Well, he was here to help, so he would do his best to manage just that. Pixel slipped off his backpack and began pulling out his equipment: a toolbox, laptop, and a bunch of different wires.

“Don’t worry, Robbie. I’ll take a look and I’ll have this thing up and running in no time, I know it!”

Well, he had though he knew it, anyway.

Robbie and Pixel worked together for over two hours before they mutually decided that Robbie needed a mental break from the stress. The man sat in his orange chair, fidgeting with worry and asking the occasional question as Pixel worked. They replaced a few parts and burned out circuits, even taking a look inside the robot’s—“Sportacus! Stop calling him an it. His name is Sportacus. It’s a stupid name, but it’s his!”—head to see what intricacies there might need to be fixed or replaced.

The entire process took the entire day, and the robot Sportacus still wasn’t responding.

Robbie slumped to the floor nearby, unable to stay in his chair any longer. He watched quietly as Pixel tried and failed again to get Sportacus up and running. He sighed and wiped at his eye when it seemed he thought Pixel was busy staring at the readouts on his laptop screen.

“This whole thing was an accident,” he said quietly.

Pixel nodded as he worked. “Yeah, I know. You said you were testing—”

“No, not that.” He swallowed and nodded down at the robot. “Him. I tried to make something that might be able to hold a conversation, that’s all, just a simple one so there’d be someone to talk to now and then, maybe clean up the place so I didn’t have to. I went through nine failures before I finally got one to start up properly without exploding something in the first five minutes.” Robbie gave a weak smile at the memory. “He jumped up right away…wouldn’t stop jumping. I don’t know how, or what I did different, but…he’s not just a robot with a list of responses. He thinks. He has a personality. And I…” The man let out a loud, shaky breath. “I’ve killed him.”

Pixel swallowed, picking his words carefully after hearing the story. “You didn’t kill him, Robbie. It—he’ll be okay.”

“Even if he turns back on, he’ll probably be gone,” Robbie sighed. “Spontaneous intelligence like that wasn’t something I planned for. A wire must’ve gotten crossed or something and...oh, he was alive, Pixel. And we’ve been playing with his brain all day. If he wakes up, the perfect circumstances that made Sportacus Sportacus won’t…” He swallowed. “He may not be there anymore.”

The boy shifted where he sat, unsure what to think about all of this, much less what the best thing to say might be. All he could offer was “I replaced a couple of relays, and the diagnostic test looked okay so…maybe it’ll work this time. Maybe it’ll be okay.”

The man nodded, but didn’t look convinced. If anything, he looked like he may fall apart at any moment himself. Pixel carefully connected a few wires and moved a small switch, sitting back to watch the circuit complete itself. The sound of a fan started up. A few little lights blinked to life inside the robot’s chest cavities and Pixel could hear Robbie gasp with hope as a couple of gears began to turn. And then, all at once, it stopped.

“Wh-what happened?” Robbie demanded, jumping to his feet. “He was working! He was working!”

Pixel’s eyes were wide and frantic as he searched the Sportacus robot’s chest for answers. “I don’t know! It looked like it was—Robbie, where are you going?”

Pixel scrambled to his feet, chasing after the man. He jumped back when Robbie grabbed some tools from a nearby table and, with a mighty grunt, threw them across the room. He kicked over a bucket of nuts, another filled with bolts, and threw a screwdriver straight into the tubes of costumes, causing a small crack in one. Robbie let out a roar of frustration and stomped over to the far table, causing Pixel to gasp, panicked as he realized where the man was headed.

“Robbie, no, don’t—”

Instead of throwing or hitting the pieces of ballerina, though, Robbie collapsed onto the stool beside her, his arms limp and back hunched. Something in the boy’s stomach twisted at the sight of the mechanical genius crumbling in front of him.

“I was going to try again,” he mumbled, reaching out to stroke the half-finished cheek before of him.

Pixel wasn’t sure if Robbie was talking to him anymore or not.

“I wanted to try again. Sp-Sportacus was so excited when I told him. You...” Robbie shuddered, holding in a sob as tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. “You were going to be our daughter if I could figure out how to…to…”

Pixel almost didn’t hear the soft click. He did, however, distinctly hear two others immediately after the first. He turned slowly, the sound of a soft hiss filling his ears as the sight of something sitting up filled his vision. The robot, after plucking some of the wiring out of his chest, closed the panels on his chest and pulled down his white shirt. He sat up, looking down at himself with a look of confusion. The boy began to wave his hand in his host’s direction.

“Robbie!” he whispered. “Robbie! There was a startup delay! It was just a delay, look!”

As if hearing his words, the robot, Sportacus, looked up. He paid the newcomer little mind, though, as his attention was drawn almost immediately to his creator. Sportacus’ glowing blue eyes widened at the sight of the man crying over the pieces of the little ballerina. The robot jumped to his feet, the movement so sudden that Pixel jumped.

“Robbie, what’s wrong?”

The inventor froze for a second before looking up in disbelief. “Sp…Sportacus?”

The robot smiled and quickly closed the distance between them, wrapping the man in a grand hug that was readily returned. Pixel stared, slackjawed, at the sight of the usually grumpy man squealing with joy and hugging the robot so tightly that the boy wouldn’t be surprised to see dents in Sportacus’ casing. Robbie covered Sportacus’ face with relieved kisses and let out a heavy sigh as he all but collapsed in the mechanical being’s embrace.

“I thought you were gone for good. I thought your memory would be wiped and…and I’d be alone again. I never installed a failsafe for that. I never expected…oh, I’m so glad you’re okay.”

Sportacus kissed his creator’s cheek. “I learned how to make backups myself,” he reassured the man. “Just in case. Now I’m glad I did! I only lost a little bit since the last one, I think. Did something go wrong with the tests?”

“I’ll say!” Robbie laughed. “You genius, idiot robot, you!”

Pixel smiled while the two of them laughed. While he made a mental list of questions to ask Robbie about the amazing fluidity of Sportacus’ movements and his clearly sophisticated AI basis, he decided that now wasn’t really the time for them. He was just glad that everything was okay. It seemed Robbie was a little more than just attached to his robot, and the man’s earlier terror suddenly began to make more sense.

Robbie, looking over Sportacus’ shoulder, finally seemed to realize that the child was still standing there watching the two of them. He gestured for his mechanical companion to turn and look.

“This...this is Pretzel. I mean, er, Pixel. He’s…without him, we’d…we’d both be lost.”

The boy gave an awkward wave. “H-hi.”

The robot practically beamed. “Is he our new son?”

Robbie snorted. Pixel smiled.

“Not exactly,” Robbie said with a fondness in his eyes.

The robot nodded, leaving his creator’s side to greet the new human. He held out a hand. “Halló. My name is Sportacus Ten! It’s a pleasure to meet you, Pixel!”

The boy smiled, offering a hand of his own. “It’s nice to meet you, Sportacus.”

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs “So many Dumb Ways to Die”

Ok, I am really sorry guys that I haven't posted. I got into a real intense art project that may or may not have been aggressively nerdy, and then a new season of my show came out on Netflix, so I had to binge watch that, as you do, but here you go better late than never. 

Report ID 2241570

Author Krill

Can we talk about something…. Something that annoys me greatly, and I am sick and tired of having to deal with?

No? Well TOO BAD because if I am sick and tired of it, than the rest of you are going to have to suffer with me, also if I get one more letter about how my reports are unsettling, scarring or starting to worry my superiors, than don’t bother. You can just take your complaints and shove them RIGHT UP…..

*voice from the background* Uh, Krill, are you ok.

*grumble* Yes, fine, just doing another report…. Anyway, I wanted to talk about humans, because of course you knew that, they are the only creature in the galaxy capable of annoying me so greatly. In fact, I am 100% convinced that human emotions rubbed off on me for the specific reason of giving me the ability to be pissed off.

Why, Krill, why are you so pissed off today? Well, thank you for asking, so kind of you. I am annoyed because everyone in the universe seems to be convinced that humans are indestructible killing machines incapable of dying, but I am here to tell you that that is not the case….. well I mean, it is the case, but sometimes it isn’t….

AHHHRGG

That’s just the point though, humans are simultaneously the most indestructible creatures in the galaxy while simultaneously having the FANTASTIC ability to die over the stupidest o things. So the problem becomes that you have to keep your human alive when everyone, including themselves, is convinced they are indestructible, but they are, in fact, surprisingly easy to kill. Do you know how constantly I have to worry about humans because they have this ability to get into the most dangerous situations, and of course they might just survive, but they might also just die getting out of bed.

A list of a few things humans can survive if you don’t believe me.

·         There are at least 7 humans I know of who have survived falling at terminal velocity from the sky 122 mph if anyone is asking. Ok granted there were other factors that contributed to their survival, like shattering glass, snow, and a mountain hillside, but can we just think about that for a bit?

·         Humans routinely get themselves struck by lightning, ok maybe not routinely, I looked up the statistics. About 1,000 people are insured by lightning each year and some 100 die from it just in what used to be the United States, but that means at least ONE of those people was directly struck and didn’t die….. Yeah…. Super-heated sky plasma of death…..

·         A human once survived 21 gunshot wounds……

·         Humans have survived being shot in the head, getting their lower mandible shot off or getting shot through the neck.

·         Humans also survive traumatic brain injury, and I’m not talking simply about a hit on the head, I am talking about objects being jammed into their brains. Take my friend the Commander for example, who survived a screwdriver through the eye-socket and into his brain, with minimal brain damage. MINIMAL BRAIN DAMAGE! Any brain damage should be death, but NO humans just call it MINIMAL which means, apparently, it’s no big deal.

·         They lose limbs ALL the time. I swear I am not joking. Again, take my Commander again, he got his RIPPED OFF traumatically. Humans get them blown off, ripped off, or just plain cut off because it medically relevant. LIKE WHAT THE ACTUAL HELL! There was even one human who CUT OF HIS OW ARM with a pocketknife...... 

*sigh*

·         They also just casually transplant organs like it’s no big deal.

·         Horrifying diseases that make your insides hemorrhage. Yeah no big deal for humans either.

·         Most humans can survive a second degree burn covering 70% of the body. A lower percentage (but still notably a percentage) can survive 3rd degree burns over 50% of the body….. NOT LIKE ANYONE SHOULD WANT TO SURVIVE THAT. At this point it’s just cruel to keep the poor human alive.

·         HUMANS DON’T NEED HALF THEIR BRAIN…… sometimes they just effing remove it  because it’s convenient that way. HALF OF THEIR MOTHER F***ING BRAIN

·         Humans can theoretically survive for 15 seconds in the vacuum of space…… WHY WOULD YOU WANT TO BE ALIVE FOR FIFTEEN SECONDS THROUGH THE MOST HORRIBLE DEATH IMAGINABLE, I ASK YOU!

·         Or they can just survive plain straight up dying. Like they die, and as long as another human is there to pump their heart for them, they can just go right on to recover like nothing ever happened. Do you have any idea HOW INSANE THAT IS.? Humans can shake off DEATH

Yeah and no wonder humans seem indestructible, but I swear to you. Just as much as they are indestructible, they can also just go right ahead and fall apart.

·         Human organs can just go right ahead and malfunction. Just up and get inflamed and rupture ad kill them, without any provocation what- so-ever. So as a doctor, I constantly have to worry about my humans’ organs exploding.

·         Humans WILL die without sleep. The longest a human was known to last was about 11 days, and then they died.

·         A man bit his own tongue and died from infection. Surprisingly a lot of stupid ways to die end up in infection for humans, stubbing your toe, biting your tongue, biting another person, getting a PAPER CUT, or not washing yourself properly.

·         Another human stepped out of the shower, slipped and hit his head and died.

·         Oh sitting….. yes you heard me right, SITTING can kill humans. How you may ask, oh yeah it might cause blood clots in the legs that will break off and end up in the lungs…… the human body is an absolute minefield of things that can just go wrong.

·         The inability to pee, or just plain deciding not to pee because humans……. Because…..sometimes I really hate humans. I mean honestly, how are you expected to take care of an entire crew of them when their organs might explode, or they may just decide not to pee anymore.

·         Laughing…. People have died from laughing. You heard me correctly, this is just stupid. Outrageously stupid.

·         You can survive 15 seconds in the vacuum of space, but can’t survive stepping on a nail. Doesn’t that freak anyone else out because one of those seem far more extreme to me than the others.

·         Also humans have this stupid habit of shoving their nasty bits into anything small enough to fit it in, or shove something unusual up somewhere it shouldn’t be. DON’T THEY SELL THINGS SPECIFICALLY FOR THAT! WHY THE HELL ARE YOU DOING THESE STUPID THINGS.

·         Sheer stupidity, just going off the last one we discussed, sometimes human stupidity can be directly linked to death.

·         Falling down a manhole. You can survive falling from an airplane, but falling down a manhole is just out of the question.

·         Accidentally being strangled by their own scarves.

·         Choking WHILE EATING. You can survive doing stupid things, but you know what you died of YOU DIED BECAUSE YOU NEEDED TO EAT. One of the only thigs humans and other species have in common and YOU MAKE THAT THE THING THAT KILLS YOU.

·         Falling out of bed. I MEAN HONESTLY….. ARE YOU KIDDING ME!

·         Or a blasted coconut could just fall from a tree and brain you in the head. The most feared and only predator species in the galaxy and you get killed by falling coconuts.

·         Or you can just trip and die, there is always that option. NO better way than to kick the bucket than by just walking minding your own business.

·         O how would you like to be speared by an icicle from your death planet, sounds fun doesn’t it.

·         Oh and if you wanted to feel horrible today, just a reminder that humans can just up and die from sadness, yeah a human can become so sad, that their heart just STOPS WORKING. WHAT THE HELL. Humans can die because they are sad.

My favorite is spontaneous organ explosion, and when I mean favorite, I mean I hate it. I have to take care of these people, and what it all boils down to is that humans die from blows to the head, and infection, but what happened when I suggested wearing helmets? THEY LAUGHED AT ME.  I am the one sitting here terrified their organs are going to spontaneously rupture, and they are over there LAUGHING AT ME!

WHY IS THIS SO HARD?

Why is it that nothing about humans makes sense? Indestructible but not, and now I have to make sure their organs don’t rupture, they eat enough, they sleep, they protect their heads, and now I have to worry about my humans being too sad.

I AM terrified.

I just want to take care of my humans. Why can’t they make it easier on me?

 Comment if there is a dumb way to die I missed, or a miraculous survival story to prove humans are indestructible :) 

[binbonsadoration]

One More Light

A/N: Here recently I got inspired to start a series with Logan.  I can promise angst, fulfillment, and a massive amount of feels.  I haven’t even began to put the pieces together for this little tale, but already, I feel a massive attachment.  I know that I haven’t been nearly as active as I would like to be, but I do hope to change that.  I do hope you all enjoy it <3

Is it too much to ask?

The words were scorched into your mind, eyes searching the words that were being jotted down.  You were furious, an emotion that was well known in your life with your boyfriend of a decade.  That you once found to be an investment, only finding it nothing but a waste now as you glanced around the home the two of you bought as a tired sigh was emitted.  Glancing back at your words, there was a mixture of hatred, anger, and pure erratic sadness that shown in the print and cursive that flowed a bit unevenly together.  

You could feel the feelings building in your chest.  That familiar pressure that would find life when things weren’t as they seemed, a feeling that had been easily associated with your significant other of ten years.  A feeling that so many had said you shouldn’t have been a known emotion when it came to the two of you.  Happiness, excitement, love - those should have been at the top of the list, not anger, sadness, and a pure need to break free.  

Things were once perfect.  A scene of love birds that found fingers interlocked, a soft expression dancing at the corners of lips only to find nothing more than a frown tugging a bit forcefully now.  A sadness that dwells in your heart in those moments that you found that it wasn’t just you that shared those twinkling moments that once had your features alight.  While the two of you shared a home, it was the others that received the better facades of the man; the playful nature that you once knew so well, the spontaneous side that once had the two of you walking hand in hand beneath a star filled sky.  

No, all you got was the tired version of a man that you still loved, gave your all to, and now found yourself making a decision that had you jotting down all the pent up emotions that had you ready to explode.  

You didn’t want to feel it, to allow yourself in drown in those deeper emotions.  Fighting it tooth and nail, a deeper breath was pulled into your lungs as you fought back the flood.  Ten minutes had passed before the salty puddle collided against the pad of paper that had you pulling in a ragged breath as you signed your name.  A name that was once accompanied by a heart in softer times.  A name that was once associated with his, and yet, you couldn’t dare to do that now.  You felt betrayed, drug through the mud, left tired and worn with a want to savage what was left of your heart.  

He had been gone, off to work when you decided to jot down the note and packed a bag without a single word.  The emotions weren’t on display around the man that you once called the love of your life, allowing yourself to pretend, to pull that mask into place that you knew so well as you grew older.  

You knew.  Knew that if you had addressed how you felt with the information that had been left at your disposal that he would coax you back in.  Soothe you in with that voice that he always used, fingers caressing your cheek while he assured you nothing was going on when it clearly was.

No.  You had to get away on your terms, to find a decision on your own time.  Now wasn’t the time when you had a job interview.  The soft pulse of an alarm reminding you of just that.

‘...shit.’  The soft whisper of a curse slipped from your lips as you hurried out of the door.  The clicking of heels sounded as you went, hopping into your car and sped off into the direction where a huge building loomed over you, and the parking lot that paled in comparison.  

Fingers were tight against your steering wheel, the realization of everything coming together of just how much things could change in a matter of moments.  Checking your appearance in the mirror, fingers were quick to correct the slightly smeared eyeliner.  There was a breath pulled into your lungs, a silent wish of confidence to invade your system before you were pulling your frame free to find your footing.  

Confidence.  It was something that had been donned on you since a young age.  Since you were nothing more than a small girl bolting the lyrics to Thriller, your body mimicking the steps from a video that was before your time.  While you had the confidence, it was the attention that you didn’t like.  Sure, you liked appreciation, your pride hitching a bit higher as your chin lifted, but the attention - that was something completely different.  Being noticed was one thing, given the rightful appreciation was amazing, but to have eyes glued to you was something that didn’t sit very well with you.

Maybe that was the reason that your gaze averted from prying glances.  Eyes that were curious, staring a bit too much in hopes of figuring out who you were only to disappear behind a door that begged to trudged upon.  The same glances that you were sure to see staring once more as you found your feet once more.

A smile dotted your lips, a much different emotion that was once displayed not an hour prior.  A larger hand wrapped around your own.

‘Y/N, you have quite promise, young lady - I look forward to the work that you’ll accomplish here at Delos INC.’

There was a nod of your head, the smile only stretching a bit more at his welcoming words.

‘Yes, sir - I can’t wait to show you what I can do for the company.’

With that you were turning on your heels, the smile dancing a bit higher against your lips as you followed his lead toward the door only to be stopped in your tracks when someone found their stride through the door without so much as a knock.

The smile slowly faded, lips molding together, refusing to allow the almost amazed look to cross your features.  He was gorgeous, and that was putting it lightly.  You knew that looking at someone else wasn’t on your list of things for the day, especially with how your day begun.  There was something there in his gaze that ate at you, an almost promise that you weren’t too sure of just what that was.

‘Ah, Logan, this is Y/N.’  

You caught the immediate smile that danced against his lips, an expression that seemed to come as default as the man continued his speech.

‘She’ll be your acting secretary, and one of the leads in marketing.  Needless to say, she has much promise in business .. a category that I wished my son excelled in, though found myself quite disappointed.’

The tension was evident, as your gaze glanced between the two men when you caught the smirk and immediately extended your hand.

‘It’s nice to meet you, Logan.’

You weren’t sure what prompted you, maybe already taking on the role of stopping something that was ultimately going to become a fight.  There was something suddenly stirring in his eyes, and while you couldn’t put your finger on it it was enough to draw his attention toward you instead.

It took a moment, but he was finally reaching out to take your hand in his where you attempted to ignore the shock that seemed to surge through you.

‘The pleasure is all mine.’

Feeling his thumb trace over your own, you slowly removed your hand while eyes continued to meet his own.  

‘Monday?  At 8?’  

The words escaped without thought as you moved away from the two men, giving a slight nod, ‘Gentlemen.’

With that you were moving, finding your stride while a happiness bubbled within your chest.  While your personal life may have been falling apart, your career was just beginning to flourish, and for a moment you forgot about the deep eyes that had called to you the moment he slipped into the office.

A pair of eyes that you found yourself bearing into the moment that you took a spot among the elevator, your gaze never leaving his as the doors slowly closed.