#me joining yet another exchange: (clown noises)

[thebahwrites]

Joining the summer exchange and I just know I’m gonna regret this immensely

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

Scars That Heal || Eddie Kaspbrak x Reader Series

• Ch. 7: Hush, Hush, Hush •

    The children walk single file as they descended from the brush from where they had escaped, Eddie in the lead, Richie taking up the caboose. Y/n had helped Mike up the rocks, and shortly after found herself in the middle behind him. Mike cast a glance in her direction as well as the others.

    "Thanks, guys," He said, redirecting his gaze to the ground. "But you shouldn't have done that, they'll be after you too, now."

    Eddie was the first to chime in. "Oh, no, no, no, Bowers? He's always after us."

    "I guess that's one t-t-thing we all have in common," Bill added.

    "Yeah, homeschool!" Richie chirped. "Welcome to the Losers Club!"

    Y/n smiled at the boy's remark, shaking her head lightly. It was then that Y/n was reminded of the fleeting thoughts from the night before that bounced around her tired, foggy brain. And a familiar feeling bubbled back up to the surface along with it; a sense of belonging. Y/n did not have much luck when it came to getting close to people, aside from Beverly of course. Until that day at the quarry, she had never truly felt at home. And now that they had a new member - the last piece of the puzzle - she knew as long as she had them, she would be whole.

    In fact, they would never say it aloud, but each and every member of the Losers Club shared these same feelings. That day marked the beginning of a beautiful and powerful bond that would last a lifetime. Each and every one was just as important as the next and if you were to pluck any from the line, they would never quite be the same. Each of the eight children felt immediately at home with one another, a comfort so deep and profound it could quiet any lurking anxieties or fears.

    For a short while, no one said anything, just a peaceful ambiance blanketed the atmosphere as they descended the small hill of grass. Each of them could feel the tall green blades brush their legs, and the silence was filled with the low yet loud rumble of the train traveling along the tracks, yards behind them. When they reached the bottom of the small hill, Y/n  scurried up to the front and joined Eddie by his side. Everyone else disperses, scattering amongst one another, Ben silently taking the lead.

    "Hey Kaspbrak" Eddie looked to her, a little taken aback but attentive. "I'm counting on you,"

    Eddie blushed uncomfortably until he realized what she had been implying. She had been holding her left arm, just below the shoulder, and gestured to it with her eyes. She blushed herself and played it off with a weak laugh.

    "My arm?" She wiggled her eyebrows playfully. "If you anyone has a band-aid it's you."

    He laughed nervously as well, as he reached into one of his fanny packs, careful to watch his step as he was still walking. He pulled out a bandaid and handed it to her, she smiled in thanks. She wished she could have said she was surprised when he continued to pull supplies out one by one. And she'd be lying if she said she didn't find that a least a little impressive. It reminded her of clowns packed into a clown car. Ugh, she shivered slightly, bad analogy, nevermind.

    "Here you go. Also, here's some ointment, it's a special disinfectant - who the fuck knows all the germs that were on that rock, you'll need all the help you can get. I also have gauze, normally I don't carry gauze but since your leg is still pretty bad, I figured I should carry some, just in case. Here you take it, I think I have some more, also, I kept a small wrap of ace bandages, you really need to - wait you have been changing them frequently, right? You always, always change bandages, the bigger the wound the more important it is you change it. Seriously, this is really important because-!"

    "BEEP BEEP BEEEP!" Richie shouted suddenly, strolling up and walking between the pair. "Hear that sound, Doctor K? That's the sound of her flat-lining. You took too fucking long, genius, if you were a real doctor she would have bled out on your table already!"

    Y/n snickered under her breath, several of the Losers smiled as well. Eddie felt his face grow hot, and he turned angrily to Richie, his face contorted in an angry pout. He was struggling for words, but before he could form a proper sentence, Richie continued.

    "Quick tip, Doc, don't talk your patients to death!"

    Stan laughed dryly, "Yeah, you're one to talk."

    "Hey there, woah, woah, woah!" He threw his arms up in defense. "I'm just givin' the people what they want!"

    "Great!" Y/n said excitedly, her face lighting up briefly before falling. "How bout some silence? Beep beep, Richie."

    Mike, who had blended into the group so effortlessly and had been silently processing - still adjusting to the group dynamic - laughed suddenly and loudly. Everyone looked to him, taken slightly aback by his sudden, but infectious laugh. And it wasn't long until that laughter spread, everyone had cracked a smile and there was scattered laughter that melted away any previous tension.

    By now, Y/n had applied the ointment and the band-aid easily. She handed the tube of disinfectant back to Eddie as well as the gauze.

    "Thanks, but the band-aid will do just fine. Luckily, this one is only just a little cut."

    Eddie nearly tripped, he had been so lost in thought as he stared anxiously at the gauze outstretched in her hand. He licked his lips nervously, and his eyes flickered to hers. She noted his tentativeness and waited expectantly, but he could hold his tongue no longer, crush or not.

    "...Seriously, have you been changing those bandages, you never answered me and I'm sorry but that's disgusting if you haven't changed them cause the wound really needs to air out and if it doesn't you could end up-"

    "Christ, Eddie! I've changed them!" Y/n blurted, falling into a small fit of chuckles to show she wasn't truly mad.

    He tried to conceal his blush, but he played it off with a vigorous shake of the head and change of topic.

    "Hey, where are we going anyway? I can't be out too long or my mom will kill me. One time, I was like, two minutes late for curfew and she had a panic attack."

    Ben looked over his shoulder, he had taken the lead and while no one had mentioned it yet, everyone had instinctively followed him.

    "Well, I was hoping to show you guys something."

    Everyone gave one another an odd, questioning look but they followed Ben into the trees, nevertheless.

×××

    Night had fallen the day of the rock fight and another day began. The group of misfits had found themselves in town, where the annual parade was taking place. Wracked with guilt and the unpleasant feeling of being pitied, Y/n was trying to talk Eddie out of buying her the delicious frozen treat she had been ogling. Eddie had noticed the longing in her eyes when she spotted a young child with one of their own, and it was then that he really noticed the effects the sun had on her. Her baggy clothes were sticking to her arms and legs, and he could see beads of sweat percolating above her brow.

    Once again, their previous exchange on the fire escape popped into his head and he was reminded once more of how fortunate he was that he could afford such little things he took for granted. The power of suggestion had already gotten to him as well when he saw a frustrated father shoving an ice cream cone at his crying child, and although the sight made him cringe he couldn't quite shake the sudden craving of the sweet treat. Hence their detour to the ice cream cart, he could practically hear Richie ragging on him for getting her something with the audacity to leave him out - What, you skimping out on me now, Eds? - Eddie opted for a vanilla cone for Rich, just to be safe. But none of that stopped Y/n from protesting against it.

    "Eddie, you really don't have to do this,"

    The young L/n girl looked between the hypochondriac kid and the disgruntled teenager behind the cart, slinging ice cream. Ignoring her protests, he dropped the small pile of coins he had retrieved from his fanny pack onto the metal counter of the cart. The overheated employee slid it towards himself to the end of the counter, plucking the quarters from the surface and handed Eddie two vanilla cones. Eddie gladly took them in each napkin-clad hand - he had already grabbed several napkins so as to not spill or drip anything. Y/n watched defeated, albeit a bit excited, as the young man behind the counter opened another compartment and retrieved the y/f/f popsicle and handed it to her.

    She hesitantly took the popsicle, trying her best to mask the ravenous look in her eye.

    "Eddie-"

    "Look, it's best you have that anyway, it's supposed to get like, really hot out today so it's best you keep cool or you could be one step closer to heatstroke. And let me tell you, that is not fun, not fun at all! Did you know that-"

    A loud burst of noise disrupted their conversation and they turned to see the cause. Richie had gotten his hands on one of the marching bands instruments - a tuba by the looks, and sound of it. The owner of the tuba was angrily reaching for it but Richie managed to keep it out of his reach. His cheeks puffed and his face turned pink as a few short bursts of noise came from the instrument.

    Eddie and Y/n shared an amused look and Y/n's eyes fell to the popsicle. She sighed lightly, trying to tame the pit in her stomach that always occurred when she was pitied. Now Y/n appreciated the gesture, she really did. It was awfully sweet of the boy, and she would be lying if she said it didn't make her stomach do a small flip, but all that was easily drowned out by how small she felt. She hated being a charity case, it was bad enough Beverly had basically kept her fed all these years but Y/n reminded herself that their friendship was symbiotic - they each had something to offer the other. But this made her feel like she owed Eddie, and she didn't like that.

    The two left the cart and walked along the sidewalk at a steady pace. Nervously, she looked at the boy.

    "Eddie, I appreciate it, but I don't want to owe you or anything. I-"

    Eddie's face contorted into a confused frown. He chuckled weakly before taking a quick lick of his ice cream. He shook his head.

    "You don't owe me! It's just a popsicle, it's no big deal."

    Words failed her and she looked at the popsicle tentatively. Eddie noticed this and was scrambling to put out the small fire he had caused.

    "Think of it as a favor to me,"

    Y/n showed no efforts to hide her confusion. "A favor?"

    "Yeah, you stay cool, and I don't have to take care of you when you suffer from heatstroke."

    Her frown stayed cemented to her face as she stared at the boy, and Eddie feared his message was lost in translation. For fuck's sake, he didn't mean it like that! Great, now he sounded like a total ass.

    Y/n broke out into chuckles and Eddie felt the enormous weight leave his shoulders. He chuckled with her, though they came out more strained and nervous. She shook her head, eyebrows raised.

    "Man, you must care if you're willing to make up that load of horse shit." Y/n's tempted eye fell to the popsicle in her hand. "Thanks, shrimp, I appreciate it. But just this one time, okay? I always end up feeling like I owe people whenever they do stuff like this. Even if it's small things, cause a lot of stuff that might seem small to you, are kind of a big deal to me, does that make any sense?"

    Eddie nodded.

    "To tell you the truth, I've never tried one before."

    Eddie's eyes widened and he looked frantically between her and her dessert.

    "You gotta try it! They're really good!"

    Y/n smiled weakly.

    "Eddie, I mean it. Do you get what I'm saying?"

    Eddie nodded eagerly, his eyes frequently falling to the popsicle.

    "I get it, won't happen again. I promise. But seriously, you gotta try it! Really though, before it melts."

    Y/n examined the frozen y/f/f pop and noticed the ice was thinning. She shrugged at Eddie and tried the popsicle. Her eyes widened and she gaped at the boy.

    "Holy shit."

    Eddie grinned eagerly, and by now the two were approaching Richie.

    "Right?"

    "Dammit, Eddie! You really shouldn't have done this, I'm gonna want another one!" She whined, though her voice held a twinge of humor.

    She switched the popsicle to the other hand to lick the melted residue that had made it on her fingers. Eddie was quick to supply her with an extra napkin which she thanked him for.

    Eddie laughed at her words and he noticed he had caught Richie's eye. More specifically, the extra ice cream cone did. Richie abandoned the tuba and waltzed over to the boy, gladly accepting the treat and the trio found themselves joining the rest of the group just inside the alley. They were all somber, Y/n couldn't help but notice.

    "What's wrong?" She asked, drawing all eyes to her. "What are guys talking about?"

    "What they always talk about," Richie said simply.

    "I actually think it will end," Ben said, ignoring the interruption. "For a little while, at least."

    "What do you mean?" Mike asked.

    "So I was going over all my Derry research and I charted out all the big events. The Ironworks explosion in 1908, the Bradley Gang in '35, and the Black Spot in '62. And now kids being... I realized this stuff seems to happen-"

    "Every 27 years," Bill and Ben finished.

    Y/n looked up from her frozen pop and licked her lips, for some reason feeling silly for enjoying such a thing during this discussion. She found her stomach was twisted in knots, though at least, she thought, Eddie was right. She was feeling cooled down. But none of that seemed to matter now. Like it was all a matter of time before all of these fleeting feelings, these little moments, were being packed and stored away for a long time. It was a strange feeling that she couldn't quite identify, a feeling each of the Losers Club was experiencing: that while everyone around them was laughing and playing, enjoying the blissful moments of summer, they themselves each felt as if they were enjoying their last day on earth.

×××

    "So let me get this straight," Eddie began, fingers drumming nervously on his right knee. "It comes out from wherever to eat kids for, like, a year? And then what? It just goes into hibernation?"

    The Losers found themselves in the park, frozen treats long gone, the pits in their stomachs however still very much present. Bev, Stan, Mike, and Ben were splayed put on the bench, backs to the infamous statue of Paul Bunyan. Richie sat on his parked bike, unfortunate enough to be facing said statue - he never said it but the thing always creeped him out, just something about it. Bill and Eddie each found a seat of their own on the long back of Silver and Y/n laid in the grass before them in between the two bikes. She was propping herself up with her arms and legs splayed out before her. Her leg was healing fast but she didn't want to risk sitting on it and making it worse.

    So here the Losers sat, lost in discussion and despite the hot weather, there was a chill in the air that only these eight misfits could feel. Looming over them, watching them, much like It did their own town.

    "Maybe, it's like-- What do you call it?" Stan paused, searching for the word. "Cicadas. You know, the bug that only comes out once every seventeen years."

    "My grandfather thinks this town is cursed," Mike said. "He says that all the bad things that happen in this town are because of one thing. An evil thing that feeds off the people of Derry."

    An evil thing.

    The three words that lurked in the back of Y/n's mind all her life. She could feel herself falling back into the pit, the black hole that swallowed her up every time she thought of the looming threat. She could feel herself disconnecting from the world again, watching herself being ripped away from this moment in time and tossed back to that awful night, though she could still hear the worried voices of her friends speaking. Completely unaware of her state of mind. The words were fuzzy and distant, background noise as she felt herself being transported to that day.

    "I ain't got much time left, but at least I'm safer than you. I'm old, I've lived my life but you? Well, you're closer to death's door than I am."

    "But it can't be one thing. We all saw something different." Stan said, his voice now began to fade out.

     The voices were now blending together as memories of her past became her present reality.

    "Cause this town, I tell you, this town... There's an evil, evil thing in this world," the man said.

    She could hear her younger self whimper in fear, her own voice was squeaky and very frightened. The old voice continued, it shook with fear and the terror was as ripe as his memory, like only seconds had passed, not decades.

    "monsters are all too real my child, I've seen 'em with my own two eyes."

     Mike's voice found a way through her skull, echoing softly as all the details of the day she worked so hard to forget, came flooding back.

    "Maybe. Or maybe it knows what scares us most and that's what we see."

   "The Devil himself lives here, right here in this very shit hole and I've waited a very long time for this moment; to be free."

    There was a moment of tension-filled silence as the young h/c girl looked up at the slouching figure. The girl clutches her teddy bear tightly to her chest - the sad old thing nearly worn down to threads - tears pooling in her e/c eyes as she stares on in horror at the distant relative. Old and senile he was, why her mother brought her here she didn't know. Y/n would later figure out that it was a final visit of sorts. A last chance to meet some of her family. And while her mother stepped out of the room to retrieve a simple glass of water for the man, he turned unexpectedly to his grandniece and imparted the words she would never forget.

    "He's in your closet, under your bed. He's everywhere, always, watchin' you. Waiting for the right moment to snatch you up. And he will get you. He always gets you... he got her, I told her not to go, but she was adventurous you see, much like you kids are these days, and mother didn't like that and she always told us; 'you mind yourself or I'll tell him. I'll tell him...'"

    The old man's glossy eyes drifted away, his voice trailing as he was lost in the memory; reliving it all over again.

    "Tell who? Who is he?" The young girl asked tearfully?"

    He broke from his trance and he looked at her with cold and fearful eyes.

    "The Boogeyman." Y/n croaked, breaking from her stupor.

    The Losers all looked to their friend in the grass. The color was drained from her [s/c] skin, and her eyes were distant and glassy. Her left leg had inched gradually up and was now clutched tightly against her chest protectively. Seven pairs of eyes were now fixed on her and she gulped.

    "My great uncle Henry, I only met him once when I was about five or six, but he- he told me about how he saw the Boogeyman. Not much else, but the way he described It... I don't know, it always stuck with me. I've been afraid of It ever since and then-" Her eyes met Beverly's and she knew she had connected the dots.

    "Your ankle." She finished.

    Y/n nodded. She shifted in the grass uncomfortably before looking around at her friends. Some of them confused, others connecting dots of their own, but still intrigued and listening.

    "When school got out, Bev slept over." Y/n began, filling in Mike especially. "We both fell asleep with the TV on, it woke me up so I got up to turn it off, and then, just as I started to drift off I felt Bev pull on my leg several times. But, I woke up and realized she was fast asleep."

    She shook her head, trying to rid herself of the nerves that came crawling back even now. She fixed her eyes on the grass below her, and her fingers worked themselves into the ground. Y/n began fiddling with eh blades of grass, twirling them and ripping some from the ground as she continued.

    "Next thing I know, It's pulling me across the carpet and my leg is torn to shreds. It looked like what I always imagined the Boogeyman to be, but... but it also looked like-"

    "A clown."

    She had to turn her body slightly to look at Eddie, but she nodded, confirming everyone's suspicions from the day before.

    "Yeah, I saw a clown too. But It was also a leper." Eddie saw the confused looks scattered across his friends. "He was like a walking infection."

    Eddie felt himself fighting his bodily instincts to vomit, still repulsed by the vivid memory. Stan, who had been squirming in his seat the entire exchange, fought desperately to deny the gory truth that lay before them. Trying to convince everyone, himself especially, that this thing couldn't exist. Cause if It did, it would be all too terrible.

    "But you didn't," his voice trembled. "Because It isn't real. None of this is. Not Eddie's leper. Or Bill seeing Georgie, or-or woman I keep seeing." His voice broke, he looked down at his feet and the others knew.

    He was trying to convince himself.

    "She hot?" Richie asked with a half-smirk.

    Stan gave Richie an incredulous look, and his voice rose.

    "No Richie! She's not hot! Her face is all messed up. None of this makes any sense. They're all like bad dreams."

    Mike spoke up, unable to tiptoe around him any longer.

    "I don't think so. I know the difference between a bad dream, and real life, okay? Besides, look at Y/n's leg! How do you explain that?"

    Y/n gave Mike a thankful nod, and Eddie asked the question she had at the end of her tongue.

    "What'd you see? You saw something, too?"

    "Yes," Mike answered somberly, and he took a deep breath. "Do you guys know that burned-down house on Harris Avenue?"

    Y/n nodded, encouraging Mike to continue.

    "I was inside when it burned down." Mike began fiddling with his hands nervously, and Bill could feel his heartache. "Before I was rescued, my mom and dad were trapped in the next room over from me. They were... pushing and pounding on the door, trying to get to me."

    Mike's voice broke and he fought hard against the tears that threatened to spill. His heart was breaking in two all over again, he rarely spoke of the incident, always much too saddened by it and each time he did he could hear their frightened screams and the scratches against the door.

    "trying to get to me." There was a pause, and Mike swallowed the swollen lump in his throat. "But it was too hot. When the firemen finally found them, the skin on their hands had melted down to the bone."

    "Mike," Y/n felt at a loss for words, but all she could manage was a simple few. "I'm so sorry."

    He shrugged, and everyone could tell he was already beginning to rebury the memory.

    "We're all afraid of something."

    "You got that right." Richie quipped.

    Everyone looked to the boy and Y/n asked gently.

    "What about you, Rich? What are you afraid of?"

    His eyes flickered to Eddie against his will, and he ignored the spike in his heart rate when he did so. Everyone was staring at him now and he gulped, looking over his shoulder to see a clown on the stage across the field, staring at him. He returned his gaze to the group, and swallowed nervously, adjusting his bulky glasses.

    "Clowns."

×××

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[scarjarbinks]

(1) The Fool’s Journey: A Star Wars Story

Episode One A Clown, And That's All

Spires of apartments, each ubiquitous in their design, flowed like crude circuits along an ancient motherboard. Following tight alleys in the way a hawk-bat would delicately chase the scent of granite slugs, Vrina—a mauve Mikkian who favored a headdress to obscure his head-tendrils—navigated the dank streets as if guided by intimate knowledge of the sprawling maze.

With his presence masked by way of heel-toe footfall and springing steps, he successfully traversed the ground level of Coruscant without much interference—save, perhaps, the preference of avoiding detritus that would penetrate his worn leather boots.

A cramped alleyway, its stones glossy from fallen humidity, spat the wanderer into the shoulder of a well-traveled intersection. In less time it would take to light a death stick, Vrina arrived at the entrance of Gil's Gab as an intruder of a group that had converged on top of him. He was polite in the way most strangers are: a brief nod or a disingenuous smile. Two Human women and an Iridonian male were already under the influence of some unidentifiable and ostensibly trendy drug.

They kept their wits about them as they spoke with the Trandoshan bouncer. He grumbled in Basic, "Invite only tonight."

With confidence stemming from the ether, the emboldened Iridonian raised his chest and lifted his chin. "I'm—we're friends with Wegil."

"Old myth that all Zabraks know each other." The stiff guardian severed the conversation without another thought.

Vrina broke from the group while the two women fruitlessly argued with their companion. The Trandoshan peered down to the heretofore silent man. "Good evening," the Mikkian bowed his head but maintained eye contact. "I actually do know Wegil, but I'm not too sure how much you believe me after that guy. Do you, erm, have a list?" He searched the bouncer's attire. No tablet, just a DL-44.

"Name?"

"Uh, Vrina Hon. Impressive that you can remember all of those names without, y'know, a list."

"Smarter than most of my kind. Speaking," his eyes reduced by a fraction. "Why is a Mikkian so far from home?"

Vrina crossed his arms and cocked a hip. He was not offended by the amount of venom that laced the bouncer's tone. Most transients would pose the same question for a Trandoshan who appears to have been conned into a low-paying job. "I'm here to perform comedy."

A concave of seedy individuals, each imbibing and shouting. The Mikkian traversed with soft steps through Gil's claustrophobic aisles. Though he recognized very few patrons, some were, of course, impossible to ignore due to their status. Such entities dealt with business practices he would rather steer clear from, yet a pull of his excited consciousness understood when to bow as a show of respect and when to simply ignore them.

Vrina passed the stage where he was to perform and waved at the Ithorian drummer—a talented fellow by the name of Bup Nolot who rattled away upon two snares and three cymbals of various sizes. He appeared too-focused to respond, perhaps intent on keeping a steady rhythm or altogether refused to associate himself with a glorified jester.

The backstage was a small respite from the bombardment of intermingling dialects and languages, though it was only an inch-thick drape that separated him from the rest of the club. He did not expect to be alone. Vrina was meant to open for a favored comedienne dubbed Real by the regulars of Gil's and her absence meant he would potentially have to fill her time slot.

A knock on the wall behind him. With his eyes still glued to the audience, Vrina greeted Wegil with a click of the tongue. "Looks like I'm the headliner."

A copper-hued Zabrak approached the Mikkian from behind. He joined Vrina in scanning the sea of flushed faces and spitting lips. "Do you have enough material?" The low-scratch of his voice collided with the amount of noise that polluted the club.

"Eh, well," the comedian took in a sharp breath and crossed his arms. "Let's just hope that they don't remember the first five jokes from last week. Anybody I have to worry about?"

Wegil frowned. "In what way?"

"You know. Pirates, ganglords, politicians. Anybody notable?"

"Only you would rope a politician in with pirates. Since you mentioned it, sure." The Zabrak leaned to the left and gestured a nod outward. It was as if a beacon shone from the center of the crescent-shaped bar: an antsy male Human nursed eight ounces of scarlet liquid with hunched shoulders. He kept his head down, uninterested in those who took residence next to him yet kept a subtle conversation with the barkeep.

Vrina shook his head. "I have a feeling he wasn't invited."

"He's certainly found his way in here, though. He hasn't said a single word to anyone other than the bartender, one of his own kind. I would prefer not to deal with any acts of speciesism tonight. You and Bup are the only two who can see the entire club wall-to-wall."

The Mikkian thought back to the drummer's intense focus and exhaled. "So you'll pay me for my services of doing twice the work as a comedian and taking on an additional role as a spy." He sucked on his teeth, head bobbing while mentally creating an addendum to the first half of his set.

Wegil clasped Vrina on the shoulder and forced eye contact. "I'm not paying you extra for the simple task of paying attention. If anything or anybody suspicious worms their way in…" The club owner paused and drew his head away. "Try to work in a joke about me. I won't take it personally."

"You're acting as if that wasn't half of my set. Right, understood, but what about covering for Real?"

With a sniff, the Zabrak pulled away and nodded twice. Soon, the Mikkian was once again left alone and felt the weight of the near future pressing into his skin like the heat of too-many suns orbiting a desert planet.

Vrina did not have much time to prepare for the amount of improvisation thrusted upon him. The emcee of the night, a stocky Rodian, hyped those who were listening into an enthusiastic applause. After a lengthy introduction presented in choppy Basic, he introduced the Mikkian. As they exchanged the microphone, the reptilian whispered a few words of encouragement: "If you are not funny, I will take over. No problem." He backed away with two thumbs up.

The initial warm-up dragged on as expected with very few individuals chuckling and pulling the attention of their friends to the stage. With more eyes on him, he began to feel at ease. "Everyone's heard the buzz around the eff-ess-ess, right?" He pursed his lips and made eye contact with as many who cared to pay attention. "A federation of only six systems. What an arbitrary number! How are we supposed to check if that's even correct when they won't give up who the systems are?"

For the first time all night, the Human at the bar spun his stool to face the comedian. Though the lights had been dimmed, he could make out a few key features: jet black hair and a matching beard. The Mikkian did not hesitate to continue. "If they were really trying to be intimidating, they might as well have said six-hundred. Sixteen would instill more terror for a terrorist organization!"

A quarter of the audience responded with a lukewarm chuckle—Bup's drumline accompaniment made sure the comedian's jokes never truly fell flat. A figure entered his field of vision to the right. One passive glance drank in the sight of Wegil who did not seem to find any of the Mikkian's jokes humorous in the least.

It was time for his improvisation muscles to be flexed. "Well, you want to keep the numbers small, I guess. Zipping around in taxis would be more cost efficient than buying fuel." A tight grin appeared on the Human's face. Vrina prevented himself from paying too much attention to him. "No need for a base of operations either, really. Just rent a hotel room or, perhaps, meet at a club."

A movement in the back caught Vrina's attention. The Human exited from the bar to the bathroom, pushing his way past a drunk Twi'lek who gestured unkindly to the man. The energy of the room became dense and the once idle chatter fell away to usher in silence. It was as if he had captured the attention of every single patron.

His throat closed, but he knew that, as a comedian, there could never be dead air. "Everybody here knows our lovely host, Wegil, yeah? Let's be honest, of everyone on-planet, he would be the one to house the eff-ess-ess. Watered down coolers to keep them drunk and drain them off their coffer, ill-tempered Trandoshans to keep an eye on their credit pouch." Vrina began to wonder how much of his material was rooted in truth. The Zabrak unwound from his position backstage and navigated through the back. "Safest place in all of… All of—"

A pressure settled into Vrina's skull and he promptly returned the microphone to its stand as Wegil approached the bathroom with a drawn blaster, one bouncer trailing behind him. The Mikkian hurriedly waved a good-bye to Bup as the audience began to boo them both. His lungs inflated as he twisted through the narrow tunnel behind the stage and was forced to stop by way of another Trandoshan bouncer.

"You need to finish your, what is it, comedy," the hulking figure encroached on Vrina's personal space. "If you can even call it that. Wegil's already sent the credits to your account, so I'd recommend—"

A blast shook the lobby and a wave of truncated screams pinched the Trandoshan's focus. With the bouncer's lowered guard, Vrina slipped through what little space the corridor offered and sprinted toward the stage-left exit. If his movements were deft enough, he could remain under the cover of darkness for long enough to join the growing crowd of patrons that also attempted escape.

Rubble could be made out from within the thick plume of smoke that emanated from the bathroom. Vrina slowed to a stop and examined the situation. Two bodies writhed on the ground and another was motionless. He took stock of who was left in the club: half of the patrons, the remaining bouncers… The bartender was already gone.

As the smoke began to clear, Vrina approached the center of the lobby and squinted at the bodies on the ground. A familiar skull-shape, horned and round. He debated whether he should usher the Zabrak out to safety or—

Vrina was lifted from the ground by a pair of scaly, calloused hands. The Trandoshan heaved the comedian forward and watched as he rolled over a table and barreled into several chairs. Broken glass stuck to the Mikkian's simple outfit, a few shards hid in exposed skin.

"He infiltrated our place of business," the bulky reptilian guard sneered and stepped forward. Vrina attempted to straighten himself to a seated position. Two more bouncers slunk in from the corners of the club and approached the Mikkian as well. "And staged an attack!"

"I—what? Me?" Vrina rotated his torso to face the other Trandoshans and experienced a sharp pain in his ribcage. "Ah, dosh." He seethed and grabbed his side. "H-how could I have set off an explosive if I was up on the stage?"

The main Trandoshan signaled the others to stop. He looked down at the pathetic Mikkian with racing eyes.

"Also, whoever did that is doing all of you a favor. Now, listen to me," he exhaled as the guards began to close in once again. "You are all much too talented of warriors to be stuck in here all day catering drunkards. What have you been doing all this time? What's your motivation?"

There was a moment of hesitation, though his gaze never fell away from Vrina. For a moment, there appeared to be a modicum of empathy that flashed in the Trandoshan's eyes. "We've been waiting to tear someone apart."

The Mikkian flinched and swung both palms to defend himself. A gasp from the Trandoshan as a gust of wind knocked him off of his feet. Vrina's brow furrowed but there was very little time for him to ruminate as the remaining bouncers enclosed him with clawed hands outstretched.

Several bleats of a small caliber blaster sounded from the debris-laden corner of the club. Either bouncer roared when struck in their armor, another in his arm. With their luck pressed, they each drew their heavy blasters and scattered to find cover from upturned tables. Vrina spent this time erecting himself to his feet and so did the once-fallen Trandoshan.

Now careful of his enemy, the bouncer kept his distance with two fists balled and ready for use. Vrina blinked and did the same, though both palms were flat and directed in the same fashion as before. No matter how many times he mentally willed himself to throw wind, nothing as exciting occurred. He began to doubt that it had ever taken place—a trick of the eyes, an anomaly of a pressure shift within the building.

While he was distracted processing the anomaly, the firefight behind him resulted in the dropping of both guards. A bright voice shouted: "Duck!"

Without a second thought, Vrina shrunk to the floor and watched as the second of two red bolts struck the remaining bouncer in the center of his forehead.

For a one brief moment, the Mikkian considered snatching the DL-44 from the Trandoshan's holster to take charge of the situation, to feel as if he were not helpless. The same voice called to him with an edge that convinced Vrina the scenario was not quite over. "Are you armed?"

"N-no."

"Well, why not?"

Vrina turned to face the same Human he had been instructed to spy on earlier. Almond-shaped eyes and well-groomed, about the same height and body type as he was, though somewhat more muscular. "So I should, erm, get a blaster?"

The man rolled his eyes and turned the heel of his weapon toward the comedian. It was a feeble blaster with slender design, uniform in color, but did not seem to reflect a sheen. A perfect weapon to conceal. "I assume a Jedi would know how to use one of these."

"A—" The device was shoved in his hand and the mysterious man excused himself to fetch the much more powerful DL-44 from the fell bouncer.

"It's probably a good thing they didn't know how to handle one of these, huh?" Sucking his teeth, the man looked down the unmodified sights and nodded. "I mean, I barely know how to use one of these, sure, but they were just awful."

Vrina straightened his wrist after acclimating to the surprising weight of the small blaster. "What exactly did you just call me?"

The man threw a humored side-eye at the Mikkian. "C'mon. It'd be nice to have someone who knows what they're doing by my side."

"But… I'm—oh, dosh." He watched the Human step away while offering a tight hand signal that meant nothing to the comedian.

Kept crouched and insecure, Vrina trailed behind the Human with the blaster limp and pointed to the floor. In the many patrons' effort to escape, they had made quite a mess: shattered cups and plates, food tracked under heel, abandoned death stick cartridges. The unconscious form of Wegil caused the Mikkian to pause his trail.

"Do you know him?" The Human kept his weapon pointed to the only way in or out. An expectation of being ambushed was palpable. "You have to let me know now if this is someone worth saving. Like, now."

The truth bit at Vrina's tongue. He wanted to be honest and admit that he knew very little about the Zabrak, but the fear that he would be tracked down by a vengeful conduit of illicit affairs forced his hand. "Yeah, he's worth it." The man gave him a signal to fetch the club owner.

Calling out in just above a hushed voice, "I'm surprised we haven't run into the see-ess-eff."

"Right." Vrina heaved Wegil up and balanced him on his feet. "I-find-it-surprising…" He growled while ushering the unconscious body to the door. "How-heavy-people…" A moment to catch his breath. "Actually are."

The man ignored his sentiment. "We have one shot. I'm really going to need you to muster all the strength you have." He slipped a rod-shaped comlink from his jacket pocket. A pleasant chirp sounded when he began to transmit. "Rokkna-1, critical mission failure. Resort to plan-B, but with the pick-up coordinates of Plan-A."

A woman sighed as a response. "Always with the plan-B. Copy, Rokkna-2."

The individual identified as Rokkna-1 turned to Vrina and flashed a grin. "Don't worry, the mission failure wasn't exclusively, entirely your fault."

"I didn't think it was. Wait, was it?"

"Ready up your friend."

With a shake of the head, the Mikkian stood Wegil upright and braced him. "Where are we going? What's happening?"

The whirring of an incoming shuttle paired with sirens that belonged to that of the Coruscant Security Force. "You'll be back in time for breakfast. On five."

Vrina's heart rattled in his chest. Under his breath, "Dosh."

The feminine voice called in, but the sound was muffled while the comlink was tucked in the man's jacket pocket. "Clear, Rokkna-1."

"Nevermind—FIVE!" The Human set off through the front door with large strides. His shoulder checked the door and swung it open with enough force to allow his new companion the chance to exit the building's threshold and into the dark street.

A shuttle with seamless and bulbous edges hovered several feet above ground, its ramp already dropped and open for entrance. The bearded man hopped on board with an effortless bound but fell to his knees and spun to help the Mikkian and Zabrak aboard.

The excited but passive ambiance of each street in the intersection was interrupted by the aggressive whine of hidden speeders. Rokkna-1 demanded the Zabrak first and Vrina agreed, shoving the body onto the ramp with one final expression of strength.

With the CSF seconds away, the transport shuttle began lifting away from the ground. The pilot spoke through the comlink, but there was too much distance for the Mikkian to make out any one word. The Human disappeared inside of the hull for a handful of seconds. Vrina's chest seized as if a deadly poison had finally taken hold of him.

With the ramp now several feet above his head, he could just barely jump to grab on. His feet kicked the air, his fingers without a decent grip. The first round of blue bolts swept by him but missed by mere inches.

"Hold on, friend!" Rokkna-1 returned with a silver can in his right hand. He activated the device and rolled it off the ramp while extending an arm to lift Vrina onboard.

As soon as it struck the ground, the canister popped and began to spray a viscous white smoke to obscure the underside of the ship; flashes of blue looked like lightning trapped in dense clouds. Once the Mikkian had been pulled in and was comfortable enough, the ramp inhaled and sealed with a pressurized click.

[diyunho]

The Joker x Reader-”The One That Got Away” Part 1

The terrorist attack targeting Wayne National Bank nearly three years ago left only one survivor behind: Y/N almost died from the injuries, but she was lucky enough to wake up at the hospital days later. It was so hard to cope with the news: on top of losing her eyesight, the young woman lost her co-workers also and strangely enough the one responsible for the entire tragedy wasn’t The Clown Prince of Crime.

“They told me you’re here again,” you smile and there’s no answer. “Are you going to come in or do you want me to bring you something to eat? We’re closing soon, it’s almost 10pm.”

The blind Y/N extends the cane until it touches the recipient of her visit.

“I understand that you’re shy and there’s nothing wrong with it; you just need to tell me.”

“I’m not shy,” the deep tone interrupts.

“So are you coming in this time?” Y/N asks while the man grunts and she correctly guesses he’s getting up from his spot. “Follow me,” you encourage and he pulls the hoodie on his face, steadily walking behind the woman leading the way. “Today we have chicken soup and spaghetti with red sauce. That that I want to brag, but it turned out pretty good,” you giggle to lighten up the atmosphere: you’re aware it’s not easy for some living on the streets to acknowledge they require help.

“Mina!” you shout as you enter the spacious room. “Another portion please!”

“Sure thing!” the assistant’s energetic reply is perceived from beyond the counter.

“You can take a sit at any table, she’ll bring the food shortly,” you let him know and then loudly inquire: “Who else is here?”

“I’m here,” Silvia answers, slurping on her hot soup.

“Me too,” you hear Walter. “I also see Dave, Russell, Angie. The rest I’m not sure,” the 70 years old informs, pointing at the newcomer.

“Hey new guy, you have a name?” Angie licks her fork, digging in the pile of pasta afterwards.

The man is silent for a few moments, then mutters through his teeth:

“Jay.”

“You’re lucky there’s still food left, son! It’s crazy busy all the time,” Dave huffs. “This is the best Soup Kitchen in Gotham, and the lady standing in front of you a true angel!” one of the regulars states with such conviction it prompts cheers from the others left in the cafeteria at the end of the busy day.

“If only,” you laugh amused at the affirmation.

“Here you go; enjoy,“ Mina brings over a bowl of soup and a plate full of spaghetti to the man that’s been lurking around for the past two months but didn’t step into the building until today. Jay mumbles something resembling a “thanks” and by the sounds he makes slurping on the hot liquid one could say it’s very appreciated.

The volunteers would tell you if they spotted him outside the premises and you would usually take food to him, offering a place at a table which he refused; not the first or the last to show restrain when shown kindness.

You’re a bit surprised he decided to finally join the crowd; maybe he doesn’t like being around people.

“Mina, are you ok closing with John and Sandy? I have to open the bakery in the morning,” you explain although it’s not necessary.

“Yes, of course; told you should have went home an hour ago. They’re almost done with the dishes and we won’t have that much left to do after the last guests finish their meal. We’ll be fine, don’t worry. OK?” the young woman gives you a soft nudge towards the door and you feel the ground with the cane, eager to take a shower after the long day.

“Good night then,” you smile,” see you guys soon.”

“Good night!” several voices respond back.

The apartment is just three blocks away, conveniently situated on the top of the bakery you own: “Sweet Temptations” is one of the most popular bakeries in Gotham, slowly becoming a contender for the first position.

Once outside you stop for a few moments to enjoy the silence and the soft breeze on your cheeks before reprising your walk. Police cars alarms start blaring in the distance and you sigh, annoyed: quietness never lasts for too long in this damned city.

You turn left on Glissan Avenue and halt, carefully listening: you could swear you discerned some snickering ahead of you. Maybe not?...

A few more feet and your cane is abruptly yanked out of your hand, almost making you lose balance:

“Hey pretty girl, can I get a kiss in exchange for the stick?”

You straighten your shoulders, frowning:

“Randy, is that you?!”

“Umm…it’s possible,” he chuckles and you feel the air around, trying to find his body.

“I’m exhausted and not in the mood for your crap!” you admonish and want to continue but you get interrupted:

“I’m sorry, Y/N. You know my brother’s an idiot!...Hey…Hey!!!! What the…,” the other young man yells and the noise of a loud punch and broken bone startles you. “Hey, leave my brother alone!!!!...Oh shit!” the turmoil of a struggle and more ruckus indicating a fight make you frantically search for your cell in the purse.

“What’s going on?” you ask, scared at the moans of pain.

“I think he broke my nose,” Randy manages to utter still dizzy from the unexpected attack. His sibling Steve is trying to defend himself from the aggressor, apparently without too much success since the thud reaching your ears indicates he got thrown on the concrete pavement.

“If…if you’re The Batman, I can assure you I’m not in any kind of danger!” you pant, scared about whatever the hell is happening. “I know them, please stop!”

“It’s not…it’s not The Batman…” Randy gags, the taste of his own blood making him nauseated.

“I’m calling 911!” the cell phone is taken out of the bag and Randy shrieks:

“He’s running away…”

“Please don’t call the cops,” Steve mutters, not having the strength to get up yet. “I’m sure they’re not gonna like the fact that two teenagers fresh out of the juvie already got involved into an altercation.”

“I can testify you got assaulted!”

“Yeah, but you didn’t see anything,” Steve groans while his brother helps him up. “They might twist it against us and I don’t want to go back to detention.”

“Me neither,” Randy grumbles, wiping his bloody nose with the sleeve of his jacket.

“Did you see who it was?” you inquire, placing the phone in your pocket; you sure don’t want to create any more trouble for them.

“No,” the cane is returned to the anxious Y/N. “His mug was covered with a hoodie.”

***************

Next morning, 5:43am

The bell dinging makes you aware someone entered the bakery.

“I’m sorry, we’re still closed until 6am,” you announce to the customer while brewing a fresh pot of coffee.

“Hello Y/N, it’s me”, the familiar voice makes you smile.

“Good morning Mister Wayne; your box is ready,” you slide the package on the other side of the counter. 

“Thank God! I hate early corporate meetings and this amazing stuff makes me wake up a bit, enough to seem like I’m interested, you know?” he soundlessly yawns and you burst out laughing.

“I’m glad it helps. Coffee?”

“Please!”

“The usual?”

“Naaah. Surprise me,” Bruce smirks and watches Y/N quite fascinated as she puts together his drink. Even if she can’t see, she moves with such ease and he takes a remorseful deep breath, wishing he could share his thoughts.

“Here you go Mister Wayne, triple shot. I think you need it today,” you hand over his cup and he takes a sip, smacking his lips in the process.

“This is very good,” Bruce praises your skills because lingering around the bakery for a few minutes it’s so much better that the dreadful meeting he’s about to attend. He takes a big stack of money from the inside pocket of his suit and hands it over to you.

“Are these…are these hundreds?!” you inquire, puzzled.

The lack of an answer confirms it.

“Mister Wayne, you don’t have to do this each time you come in. This is just... a lot again and the total for your box is only 46 dollars.”

“If I want to leave a tip, then I will. Share with your employees,” the stubborn heir suggests because this is how he usually convinces you to accept the money.

You want to protest but he keeps rambling on:

“There are also two checks in there: one for my monthly contribution to your charity, the other one you could say it’s an investment. Entirely up to you of course, but I would love for you to expand your business: a location next to the Wayne Tower would make me very happy. Every time I’m there pretending to be working I could run and get me a delicious treat to make my day better. ”

You blankly stare at him, deciding to speak up.

“Mister Wayne…You don’t have to do this… It wasn’t your fault…”

Bruce is grateful you can’t see his painful grimace at the candid words meant to alleviate the guilt of an event he failed to predict as both the main shareholder of Gotham National Bank and as his alter ego.

“You are not responsible for the lives that were lost. You just owned the bank, nothing more. It was very unfortunate, but please stop blaming yourself.”

He doesn’t comment yet, oddly enough paying attention to Y/N’s advice.

“You might not realize it, but you make this city a better place Mister Wayne; your generous donations truly make a difference. With your aid, my charity allows me to literally assist hundreds of those in need. That wouldn’t be possible without you. Take The Batman too for example; because of him this town is safer: he can’t get rid of all the rotten evil eating away at its core, but his watchful eye is a tremendous boost of hope for the rest of us. One person can’t do everything and he is not accountable for every bad action he cannot stop. You’re not more responsible than he is for the fate of others.”

Bruce sniffles, somehow relieved by the sudden monologue.

“You’re a good man, Mister Wayne. The tabloids might depict you as a carefree playboy, still they should mention your achievements also. Or at least bring up some details about that nice cologne you wear,” you giggle and his body relaxes at the small joke after being tense throughout the whole speech.

“It’s Dior,” he admits with a grin meant to alleviate the seriousness of what you just told him. And Bruce certainly appreciates it since he had no idea how much he craved to hear a confirmation of his own flaw: he is human after all, either as the rich billionaire or as The Batman. “Thank you…” he briefly touches your fingers while taking the box from the counter.

“I meant it Mister Wayne.”

“I know…” he sighs. “Think about the business proposal, OK?”

“I will,” you promise although you are not convinced it’s such a great plan on top of the numerous projects you’re involved in.

“I’ll see you next week,” Bruce promises and exits the pastry shop, abandoning its owner until their upcoming rendezvous.

You feel sorry for him, you really do. You hope what you told him stuck in the back of his mind: remorse is a strong poison Bruce Wayne should stay away from at any cost, especially when he’s in the center of attention due to his social position. Plus, he’s not liable for the tragedy that occurred nearly three years ago, even if he believes otherwise…

You were working as a teller at Wayne National Bank for eight months and that day was nothing special until the shift was almost over. The 25 year old Y/N went downstairs with her drawer in order to go over her daily transactions and make sure there were no discrepancies. Moments later, a powerful explosion shook the building and leveled it out in a matter of seconds, taking down walls and people alike as it sunk into rubble.

The only survivor was you since you happened to be in the vault; the metal crate protected you from the blast and you were lucky the emergency response team dug you out from under the debris in time: Y/N nearly perished and woke up at the hospital days later blind and unable to cope with the news: on top of losing her eye-sight, she lost her co-workers too.

Bruce Wayne felt responsible: he took pride in having the most sophisticated and advanced security system in place, yet nothing is fool proof, including the engineers that built it and sold out the secrets to the wrong people for the right price.

The terrorist attack was claimed by the Triple Star gang, another one of their attempts to take over Gotham in the never-ending battle for the top spot with The Joker. And Gotham’s citizens got caught in the crossfire. Again.

Bruce paid for everyone’s funerals and handsomely rewarded the grieving families along with his public apologies; the media tried to shred him to pieces, dragging his name in the mud again. It all died out once the family members of those killed in the attack sided with the billionaire: there’s nothing more off-putting to the press than dust settling over sensationalism without backup evidence.

You used the share you received from your ex-employer to open the bakery and start the kitchen soup, both venues flourishing under your patronage. Bruce was a constant customer and donor from day one, which aided raise awareness to the point of Y/N becoming some sort of local celebrity: despite her blindness after surviving catastrophe, she found the strength to rise above the shattered pieces of her life and help the less fortunate, which gained her the nickname of Angel of Gotham.

“Y/N,” Shane gets you out of trance, “do you want the chocolate croissants on top shelves today?”

“Yes, by the apple fritters and blueberry muffins,” you answer while the rest of the opening shift brings out the trays with freshly baked pastries from the kitchen.

The bell dings and Andy rushes in, frantically repeating:

“I know I’m late! I know I’m late!”

“AGAIN!!!” almost everyone teases in the same time, the choir urging more clumsy excuses:

“I know, ok? I’m deeply sorry. My car died out!”

“AGAIN!!!” the crew mocks and the poor guy sniffles, flustered to the maximum and you decide to give him a break.

“It’s fine; go wash your hands.”

“Y/N,” Andy halts in front of you. “Mister Wayne’s limo is parked outside and his chauffeur said he wants to talk to you.”

“He’s still here?!” you grab your stick and walk around the counter, heading outside the bakery.

“This way Miss,” the driver holds the limousine’s door opened until you get inside, slamming it shut as soon as you are next to your former boss. But something is off… the man doesn’t smell like Bruce’s cologne.

“Mister Wayne?...” you hesitantly mumble and the weird chuckle makes you cringe.

“Nope. Just rented a limo like his and waited until he left so I can take over. Luckily enough we saw an employee rushing in and he had no clue that the rich, pretty boy is not the one requesting a meeting.”

You panic and try to exit the car but it’s already moving and the door won’t open.

“Calm down, would you? If I wanted to hurt you I would have already done it.”

You exhale, nervously adjusting yourself in the comfortable seat.

“Who are you?” Y/N carefully stirs the conversation.

“A philanthropist interested in bestowing my fortune upon those in need,” the strange snickering comes to an end. “Here’s my business card,” your hands are placed on the person’s face without any warning. “Well, can you guess?”

“Umm…” you gulp, anxiously touching the skin. “Maybe mid-thirties…”

“Wow, that’s pretty good,” the man snorts, somewhat amused. “Go on.”

“Handsome…”

“Nailed it!!” he snarls and it gives you goosebumps.

“Green hair…”

His crazy silver grin diminishes a bit.

“Blue eyes,” and your eyes focusing on his astonish The Joker which is not an easy thing to accomplish.

“You…you can see!” he growls and your hands slide off his face. The King of Gotham had you on surveillance for months before he made contact today and nothing indicated the revelation he witnessed by pure chance.

“I was wondering if you‘ll show up,” your change in attitude baffles the usual emotionless King of Gotham. “Are you interested in money laundering throughout my charity?” you cold tone skips to the main topic. “Others have asked and no, I don’t do that; I don’t care about how much it would put back in my account. Dirty money has no place in my…”

“Says the perfect Angel lying to the world about her handicap,” The Joker sarcastically cuts you out.

“I’m not lying,” you mutter. “My vision comes and goes, it’s a neurological anomaly after the injury I sustained. I was warned that might happen and frankly I don’t have to announce it on TV or to my doctor when I’m blind and when I’m not. It’s easier to deal with it since at one point I might find myself in the blackness forever.”

“Interesting,“ The Joker huffs, crossing his legs. “I couldn’t care less about your sneaky ways; I’m not here to negotiate a deal. I’m here to get what I want. Money laundry will bring you more funds to do whatever the hell you do, help people and all that,” J flares his arms around, done with the charade.

“Yes, I help them and you kill them,” Y/N gives The Clown a mean glare. “Or beat them up for no reason,” you hint at the two teenagers he attacked since you actually saw him do it.

“Somebody gotta keep the balance,” he jokes about it like it’s some kind of funny topic.

“Mister Joker, I am here to help people and that’s it, “an apparent serene Y/N grumbles even if her heart is pounding out of her chest. “Can you please drop me off at the back entrance of my bakery? If I go missing or end up dead, people will notice. My disappearance or demise wouldn’t go unnoticed and you don’t need more unwanted attention, do you?” you play the best card you have because frankly you have zero aces in your sleeve.

The Joker sucks on his teeth, debating upon this dumfounding outcome that didn’t ruin his day; from time to time he loves a good challenge and the opportunity basically jumped at him so to speak. He gets easily bored and shit, this little project isn’t boring at all. Turned out to be quite interesting.

“Hey Frost!” The Joker shouts. “Let’s take McGillivray Street and return this lost Angel to her business. We don’t want a poor blind woman to get lost in this huge city; we’ll consider this our good deed for the year!”

“Of course sir,” the henchman switches lanes and you strive to remain composed because showing weakness could mean disaster while in the company of the unpredictable psychopath.

The limo takes a left and in a few seconds you reach your destination since Frost basically just slowly drove around the block. The fancy vehicle stops and you get out, preparing to bail when The Joker interrogates:

“Who are you really, hm?” J suspiciously squints his eyes.

You bent over to look at him, cautiously choosing your words:

“I’m the one that got away, Mister Joker. The only one.”

He puffs, signaling you to close the door.

“Good for you, sugar. We’ll keep in touch,” and he yanks the door out of your hand since he doesn’t have patience to wait for you to close it.

Oh my God, you think and reprise your stroll, sensing the concrete with the walking stick. What was that?! you shiver, just a few feet away from the back entrance of the pastry shop. How am I… but you can’t continue the argument since a van slams the breaks right by you, five guys quickly running out and pulling you inside.

“Did you see that boss?” Frost inquires, still waiting at the red light while watching the rearview mirror. “It was so fast nobody noticed.”

“It’s them,” The Joker sneers.

“Do we… … do anything?” Jonny throws the option out there for the heck of it.

“Do you have to fucking ask??!!” his boss shouts. “This is my goddamned town, not theirs! I decide who lives or dies, who gets kidnapped and who doesn’t. ME, not the Triple Star gang!!! I am sick of them interfering with my plans!”

“Call for reinforcements and discreetly follow?”

“No, tell the guys waiting to escort us on Andresen Avenue to intercept the van and follow it. We need a plan.”

“Yes sir,” Frost smirks, craving to take on another invigorating assignment since today was quite a dull day.  

Back in the van, the men keeping you captive in between them didn’t articulate a single sentence yet. They have no clue you can see so they didn’t bother cover your head with a cloth. You know The King of Gotham is not present but you have to go on with it; what other choice do you have in this dangerous situation?

“Mister… Mister Joker?” you plead. “I’m sure we can…”

“The Joker?!” somebody laughs, finally talking and everyone snickers like it’s the best stand –up comedy act they ever heard. “No honey: this is the competition.” **************

Five days afterwards, 6pm

Everyone at the soup kitchen is eating in silence, the usual cheerful chit chatting absent from the premises: Y/N has been missing for five days, gone without a trace and despite all the efforts, her whereabouts are still unknown.

“Something bad happened,” Mike shakes his head, worried. “I can feel it,” he wipes his teary eyes.

“She wouldn’t just abandon everything and flee…” Clara whispers to her fellow table mates. “I’ve been homeless for a long time and this is the first place I found some real help, you know? Thanks to her I have a job interview next week,” the woman’s voice breaks. “Nobody would give me a chance and she put in a good word; I might have an opportunity to actually…” Clara blows her nose in a tissue, unable to finish her confession.

“We’re in the same boat,” George turns around from the nearby table and his eyes get big when he recognized who the man entering the establishment is. “Holy…”

The Joker is holding Y/N in his arms, both looking like they escaped a war: dusty, ripped clothes and visible bruises to match the unusual view seen by the 137 souls eating there for the moment. You are unconscious and a few people try to get up, startled.

“SIT DOWN!!!” The Joker screams, lifting you higher in his arms.

“Mister Joker, we gotta go!” Frost advises while keeping the door opened; the other goons temporarily blocked the traffic at The Clown’s orders. A few onlookers on the street are already dialing 911 and J is aware he can’t linger, but he won’t ignore an outburst either:

“Tell everyone The Devil brought your Angel back !! ME, not The Batman!!!” the insane green haired man barks. “Not all heroes wear capes, huh?!” he addresses everyone as he places you on an empty bench and hurries outside, taking one last glance behind to see a weary Y/N barely opening her eyes that cannot focus.

And The Joker knows that after the events he whiteness too, The Angel of Gotham is in complete darkness again.  

Also read: MASTERLIST 

diyunho(.)tumblr(.)com/post/153664676321/joker-x-reader-masterlist

You can also follow me on Wattpad and AO3 under the same blog name: DiYunho.

[sentherefortherescue]

My submission for the Halloween thing :3

For @heather-likes2review

[[MORE]]

"The mission is pretty simple this time Thunderbirds 2; there is a mine in Phoenix Arizona that has had a cave in while three miners were decommissioning it. Our job is to locate the missing miners and seal off the cave entrance once we are finished." 

"FAB Thunderbird 5, Scott and I are on our way, eta one hour, five minutes."

"Simple would be nice, especially considering what day it is. We almost got away with not having a rescue on Halloween, thanks to the time difference though…" Scott said as we leaned back in the co-pilot seat of Thunderbird 2. 

"Yeah I get it. Last year did not go well. All the freaky stuff happens in October. At first I thought it was just superstition, now not so much." Virgil set Thunderbird 2 on autopilot and began preparing the mole pod. 

"What do you mean?"

"Well I mean, last year we had that whole 'mysterious figure lighting fires in the middle of nowhere, only for John to see no human heat signatures' situation. Or the 'gigantic flying bat ramming into buildings' problem in New Mexico. It's never just a small, simple rescue on Halloween." 

"Fair enough, my old buddy Kevin from the air Force works as an EMT now and he says he hates working Halloween. So many stupid calls like "I dressed up as a clown to scare people and got stabbed!" Scott exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air mimicking a dumbfounded teen. 

"Haha ouch. Although it kind of sounds like he deserved it?"

"Kevin said it was the guys sister who stabbed him too, in their own house… haha so yeah, he had it coming. But he's fine so it's ok to laugh about it."

_____________________________________

"We are approaching the mine," Virgil stated as he prepped Thunderbird 2 for landing. 

The thunderous bird landed, kicking up all of the loose dirt and dust around it. Scott was already down in the mole pod ready to deploy. Thunderbird 2 rose on her struts and opened the pod door allowing Scott to drive out.

After positioning the pod outside the cave entrance, or what used to be the entrance, Scott bounded out of the pod and joined Virgil. 

"This is International Rescue, can anyone hear me?" Scott called into the comms. 

A few seconds of silence met the boys until a small static click was heard and a man started speaking. "International Rescue? Thank God you're here! Please hurry she has gone nuts!"

Exchanging looks Virgil asked, "sir? Can you repeat that?"

"It's Maria, she said she was hearing voices earlier, b-but we just played it off as her being nervous. Now she's gone batty! It started with her talking frantically and then she began physically shaking us and telling us we weren't alone. She's saying the voice is getting louder but we can't hear anything. I don't know what's going on man!"

"Okay sir, please stay calm, we will get to you as soon as we can." Scott answered the frantic man. 

"I told you… never normal." Virgil stated as he walked to get to his Exo-suit. 

Virgil donned his Exo-suit and walked over to the cave entrance. "Sir, my friend and I are going to be using a drill to get to your location, you and your other co-workers, need to step away from the wall approximately 25 feet." 

"Okay." Another pause of static before the man's voice returned telling the boys that he and his coworkers were far enough away. 

Scott started up the drill and began chipping away at the wall while Virgil moved some of the rocks out of the way to make the opening larger. It wasn't long before a hole was made long enough for the workers to climb out of. 

Virgil walked to the entrance and removed his hand from his Exo-suit offering it to the workers as they climbed out of the cave. It wasn't long before a dark figure came barreling out of the cave at top speed. 

"Maria, wait!" One of the men shouted. That was all Virgil heard before he was impacted by the small bodied woman. The woman had enough adrenaline running through her that when she made contact with Virgil, she actually made him stumble backwards a few steps. Unfortunately she had taken the brunt of the hit and ended on the floor unconscious with multiple impact points visible on her body. 

"What the?" Virgil grunted as he stumbled to regain his balance. The other two men slowly emerged from the entrance of the cave to see their co-worker sprawled out on the dusty ground, a sizable amount of blood seeping from a cut on her face. 

Scott launched himself out of the pod and slid down at the woman side. "What happened?" He asked looking at the workers then to Virgil. 

Both workers were speechless, and all Virgil said was that he didn't know. Virgil shed his exo-suit and began examining the girl. "She has a mild concussion and a few small cuts from where she impacted with my suit, but other than that she should be okay."

"Good," Scott answered. "Let's take her to the med bay in Thunderbird 2, then we'll come back and seal the cave."

"FAB."

_____________________________________

After insuring that the three workers were safe and as comfortable as the could be in the back of Thunderbird 2, Scott and Virgil began to walk over to the cave entrance. 

"Virg, do you have any idea what happened?"

"Aside from potentially being spooked from being trapped in a cave for a couple hours, type of claustrophobia insanity I really don't know." 

"The one male worker said that Maria had said that they weren't alone…" 

"Do you think that we should go in and look for someone else?"

"I'm not picking up on anyone else on my scans, but it couldn't hurt to go and take a quick look. If you don't mind going in, I'm going to ask the workers a couple of more questions. Something isn't sitting right with me. Bring your exo-suit, we are not sure what you'll find down there."

Virgil entered the cave, calling out to what felt like an Abyss of rock and darkness. The only light was from his shoulder torch. 

"This is International Rescue, is anyone here?" He called out again.

Nothing. 

"Scott, it's been about 20 minutes and I haven't found any other signs of life and after running new scans there are no new heat signatures, so I'm going to make my way back up to the mouth of the cave."

"FAB Virgil. I talked to the workers and they said that when Maria got there she was fine and wasn't being weird at all, but after approximately 15-20 minutes after the cave and she started acting erratically and started showing signs of unexplained paranoia."

"Is she awake yet?"

"Yeah, she woke up about 10 minutes after you went into the cave. She seems calmer now, she’s still a bit frantic, but not nearly as easily frightened as she was before."

"Good. I'll give her a more thorough check-up when I come back." 

'Hellllo? Can you help me?'

"Hold on Scott! I may have found someone."

"You did?"

"I think so, adjusting comms so you can hear around me." Virgil adjusted his comms so Scott could hear the noises around him in the cave. 

"This is International Rescue. Can you hear me?"

'Help, please.'

"What is your name?"

'Sandra… please stay with me.'

"Sandra please keep talking, I'm going to try to follow your voice."

"Umm Virgil? I can't hear who you are talking to."

"You can't? Hmm weird, maybe she's just too quiet."

'Free me, save me.'

Virgil wandered deeper into the cave ignoring the previous comments by Scott. He didn't think it was possible, but Virgil swore it was getting darker and colder. 

'Stay with mmm...'

"Sandra? Sandra? Please keep talking. I can't find you with my scans, you have to keep talking."

'They left me, just like you'll leave me.'

"I promise I won't leave you. We'll get you out, stay calm."

"Virgil?" Scott called, "What's going on?"

"Not sure, she's muttering about someone leaving her. You still can't hear her?"

"I can only hear you. Hold on. Thunderbird 1 to Thunderbird 5, John can you run a scan of the cave again for life signs?"

"Sure Scott." A small pause before John continued, "I have three people inside Thunderbird 2, you and Virgil."

"Is there any reason why someone wouldn't show up on the scan?"

"The rock is not deep enough for a type of material that would be messing with my scans. Why?" 

"Virgil is talking to someone in the cave, but I can't hear her through external comms and she's not showing up on any heat scans."

"Now that you say that Virgil's brain activity is quite spiked right now. It could be just because of stress." 

An audible yell was heard from the comms. "Virgil?" Scott yelled, "Virgil what's going on?"

"She's not human Scott!" 

"Not human?" Another grunt as Virgil fell onto the ground. The whirring of his exo-suit amplified over the comms. 

"She's dead Scott! She's not...!" 

Virgil was obviously spooked. Wasn't making any sense. "Hold on Virgil, I'll be right there!"

Scott was met with no response other than Virgil huffing and puffing as he ran towards the entrance of the cave. Sandra crawling after him, her nails digging into the dirt. Long brown, dirty hair fell from her face and sunken eyes stared him down as he ran. 

It wasn't long before Scott nearly ran into Virgil as he bolted past him. "Virgil!"

"Run!" Scott took a look behind him, but saw nothing. He couldn't hear anything either. 

'You said you'd save me.'

"It's hard to save you if you're a ghost!" Virgil yelled back and saw that Scott was not following him. Virgil skidded to a halt, "Scott what are you doing?" 

"Virgil," Scott turned around to look down the cave, then back at Virgil, "there's no one there!"

Virgil's breathing was rapid and distressed, "but- but she's right there…"

Scott took one last glance towards down the cave, just to make sure. 

"Come on Virgil," Scott said as he began to lead Virgil out of the cave. Virgil turned around to see Sandra waving at him, then she sulked back into the shadows. 

_____________________________________

*Back at Tracy Island*

"Hey," Scott asked as he walked into the living area with two cups of coffee in hand. "Feeling better?" 

Graciously taking a cup Virgil settled back into his spot on the couch. "Yeah, but I don't know why? Did I just lose it?" 

"G-good new-news." Brains said as he entered the living area with his tablet in hand. After a few hand swipes he brought what was displaying on his screen to be viewed on the main monitor. 

The screen showed scans of Virgil's brain waves at various times during the mission, as well as a graph and another diagram that had something to do with an element. Scott didn't quite understand, but Virgil did. 

"Wait, what?" Virgil asked. 

"Brains, what is this?" Scott asked as he and Virgil both leaned forward. 

"T-this is a scan of Virgil's b-brain, with a corresponding gr-graph and the elem-mental properties of an unknown t-toxin."

"Toxin?" Both boys asked. 

"Y-yes.  In 2056 there was a-another small cave in an-annd afterwards miners reported getting headaches and hearing s-strange n-noises. It seems that there was a small u-underground explosion around the a-area of the cave which seems to have caused the cave in.

"After doing some r-research using the data taken around the area at that t-time I compared it to the data from t-today and noticed a similarity. To put it simply a m-mineral in the mine was m-mixing with a gas from underground. These two elements mixed together cause hallucinations, both a-auditory and visual." 

"So the second explosion was larger causing more of the elements to mix, increasing the hallucinations effects?" Scott turned to Brians. 

"E-exactly!"

Virgil released a large sigh he was holding. "Thank God, I thought I was going nuts."

"Not yet little brother," Scott said as he clasped his hand on Virgil's back. "When that time comes we can blame Alan and Gordon."

Virgil slumped back into the couch, "see I told you, Halloween is always weird."

Brains chuckled slightly and began walking down to his lab. 

Unbeknownst to the boys, Brains left something out of his report. 

There had been a previous accident in the cave back in 2054, two years before the explosion. A support beam had collapsed and a woman named Sandra Torres perished having been trapped, and left behind.  

[tendriltherapy]

Private Lessons

With your home still orbiting the clown-focused land, it’s not a long trip  to pay the Bigtop tent a visit. Clown Church (Clurch) isn’t in session with the Ringmatron right now, just a standard array of Subjugglator antics, so with a few simple questions and an exchange of honks and gropes, you mosey down a side path to find the door to the tall, powerful clown woman’s quarters, which you knock at with just a bit of nervous tension. Not because you fear the clown cleric beyond the respectable amount one fears a stronger, older member of your new cult - but rather, because of the prospect of a private session with her, and falling ever deeper into her intoxicating clutches. 

The brightly-painted door creaks open slowly into a dimly-lit room, and the Ringmatron’s alluring voice beckons from within. It’s ostensibly quieter than when she’s preaching to the crowd, yet there’s something about her gravitas that makes it fill your ears exactly the same. “Come on in, sister. I’ve been hoping you’d up and drop by. Go on and shut the door behind you.” she calls, in a tone that makes you shiver. You hastily comply, slipping in and nudging the door shut with one pronounced hip, orange troll-eyes blinking to grow quickly accustomed to the dimmer light. 

The Ringmatron’s chambers are rather lavishly appointed - colorful tapestries and bolts of fabric cover the walls and arc across the ceiling, all clashing but somehow proving rather harmonious to your altered Subjugglator sensibilities. A door leads off to a side room of some sort, and a large recuperacoon occupies one corner, placed not far from a lavish wardrobifier. The tall woman - her tophat off and her corset loosened - lounges amidst a pile of cushions, sprawled out rather sensuously despite the bottle of Faygo she’s sipping from, beckoning you a little closer. Just the faintest of flickers flashes in her eyes, and you shiver where you stand before drifting over.

“Well hello there, little sis. You’re lookin’ real good since your baptism threefold. Real motherfuckin’ good indeed. You feelin’ good, too?” she asks, and you nod slowly, shivering once more under her powerful gaze, replying that you’ve “Never motherfuckin’ felt better”. The high-ranking Priestess chuckles throatily, holding her half-drunk bottle of green soda for you to take, while she herself rises to her feet to tower over you.  You swirl the bottle idly in your hand, then take a sniff, and your pupils dilate - that’s the now-recognizable smell of sopor, distilled into Faygo form. Your priestess grins and gestures for you to help yourself, and you do. The sweet and sour stuff burns as it slides down your throat with more viscosity than the normal cola flavors, but it’s the best motherfuckin’ burn in the world. A now-familar tingly bliss begins to radiate - slowly but surely - out from your belly. “Good girl. Feelin’ real good, right? Like it was all and motherfuckin’ meant to be all along.” she says, and you nod with another shiver at her words - you’re not sure if she’s talking about the soda, or your newfound status as an adherent, but your sopor-dosed gut tells you ‘Both’ is the right answer. 

“So what brings my favorite new little motherfucker down to visit little ol’ me?” she asks, a powerful hand coming to rest on your shoulder and kneading gently, guiding you to step ever closer to her looming height; she’s something like two or three feet taller than you, putting you at perfect height to nuzzle absently into her midsection. You mumble a reply - 

“I just up and wanted to come see my Ringmatron,” you say, “And... to ask for any ideas to come back home to the Carnival all easy-like when I leave the session.” 

The Ringmatron chuckles again, carding her fingers through your black hair and rubbing a slow circle around your horns that makes a tiny coo escape you. “Leave? Now, why’d you ever wanna do a silly thing like that? You said it yourself, the Dark Carnival here can up and be as much a home as you could ever want. But I guess if you gotta go out an’ take care of some righteous fuckin’ business, it would only make pure sense to let you come back right here lickety-split. Don’t want you straying too far from our little family after all.”

You nod in agreement - it felt so good to join in with the Clown Church’s neverending festivities, in your current state you couldn’t dream of staying away for too long. Still, you do want to go explore for more knowledge and majyyks, and - as you explain to her - to possibly spread the Mirthful Motherfuckin’ Word while you’re at it. A rumble not unlike a purr of approval rattles through her frame, and she pulls you close against her half-dressed frame, burying your face against her lower belly. At this proximity, you can smell everything - the sweet tinge of a few flavors of faygo clinging to her, the musk of sweat, the cloying chemical fug of sopor, and of course the potent pheromonal buzz of her bulge only inches from your face. You emit a quiet half-moan, half-honk that nearly gets lost against her body. She hears it though - or feels it, and replies with a quiet honk of her own, a guttural little noise that speaks to your transformed senses on a base level. 

“I think I’ve up and got a quick fix, but why don’t you and me go have a nice little steam in the sauna? You look like you’re needin’ a real good fix... plus what kinda fuckin’ Ringmatron would I be, not to give the newest motherfuckin member in the flock plenty of private tutoring?” she says, keeping your face pressed to her musky frame as she guides you blindly into the next room - a fairly standard bathroom for the most part, save for the fairly large, purple-stained wooden structure accessible from one side; a sauna. A familiar chemical scent wafts out to greet you as she opens the door and tendrils of greenish fog drifts out. Your bulge throbs in your sheath, the sense of anticipation growing stronger. The Ringmatron laughs, feeling your throb against her leg, and rumples your hair before beginning to disrobe you, pulling your arm and leg warmers off in quick motions, then unclasping your bra with an unexpected tenderness, followed by guiding your thong off with cool, strong hands. You’re like putty in her grasp, and you watch with earnest impatience as she herself disrobes, discarding her corset and pants to expose a body thick with muscle and fat and curvature, her breasts bigger than your head and capped with cork-thick nipples; her bulge and balls hanging low. Silvery-purple scars crisscross her here and there, signs of the rough-and-tumble lifestyle of the Purpleblood cult. A dark purple blush fills your cheeks as you’re granted such a private and full view of her. With a hand gliding down to rest on your hip and squeeze your ass, she leads you into the sopor-scented sauna, shutting the door behind you with a click. 

The sauna is appointed as one might expect - sturdy wooden benches surrounding a bed of warm coals, a bucket of fluid with a ladle in it nearby. But the fluid in that bucket is a telltale green hue, and the box slid under one of the benches looks suspiciously full of lewd and well-used items, proofed against the heat. “Come get cozy, lil’ sister.” your Priestess beckons you, taking a seat in the corner and spreading out comfortable, patting her lap. Even before steaming up, the warmth feels intoxicating and fuzzy on your now coldblooded body, and you drift closer with a dreamy, dopey grin on your face, wiggling your bare rear in front of her before settling down in her lap, legs likewise splayed. While one hand comes to rest on your torso, lightly groping and teasing across you, the other extends to grab a ladleful of green fluid and splash it onto the hot coals, releasing a potent blast of pure, sugary-sweet sopor steam into the air. You breathe it in deep and a long, languid honk slips from your lips as the intoxicant hits you. 

“Good girl, breathe it nice an’ deep. Ain’t nothin’ better-feeling than a hot motherfuckin’ sopor sauna... aside from maybe a righteous pailin’ with a mirthful companion at the same time~” she murmurs, likewise enjoying the intoxicating fog filling the room. Both your bulge and hers begin to stiffen up as the vaporized sopor coats your body in a tingly, increasingly-blissful dew, and you watch with a stoner’s fascination as her bulge throbs and pulses up to full mast, dwarfing even your own beast of a member. The two bulges rest atop each other, your heavy balls drooping down either side of the priestess’s shaft to rest near the top of her own pouch. You’re about to reach out and touch at least one of those bulges, before they’re both grasped at once by the woman whose lap you occupy. “You just sit back and relax, little sis’. Your Ringmatron’s got this aaaaalll under motherfuckin’ wraps~” she reassures you, and you hazily comply. Her cool, sopor-slick hand glides slowly up and down both of your shafts in smooth, steady strokes, pumping them both up to their full, ample heights. She pays extra-special attention to the head of yours, pulling the foreskin-like sheath all the way down to your base to tease it directly. Little dribbles and spurts of purple geneslime ooze from your glans and coat her bulge, and you murmur the tiniest of little moans and honks. “Cutest lil’ honks, lil’ sis... Gonna treat my new lil’ adherent right, earn some right proper motherfuckin’ honks outta you by the time we’re done.” you hear her murmur in a husky tone into your ear. You moan and honk a little more earnestly for her, her hand rewarding you with a firm squeeze all the way up your shaft, which milks out a thick, languid dollop of slime from your tip. 

Her ministrations continue like this for several minutes, just a slow steady double-handjob and an occasional fresh splash of sopor-cola onto the rocks to refresh the hot, intoxicating steam. But finally the Ringmatron seems to want a little more, and with the hand not holding your bulge, she lifts you up like you’re a feather. Her own bulge rises up steadily, and she plants its tip - lubricated by your own geneslime - against your purple pucker. “Bear down, lil’ sis, let this bad girl fill you aaaalll the way up~”  she encourages you, and you comply, pushing down with your pelvic muscles as the horse-sized shaft spreads its way into your waiting pucker. Your eyes cross, flutter, then roll back for a moment, teeth gritting at the immensity of it all. But then she grants you a little sip of sopor-Faygo and returns one hand to your blge, and all is right in the world. Her bulge slips in steadily, a noticeable lump visible through your gut as it fills you up. You’re not even sure how your body is managing to take it, but by the Mirthful Messiahs, it feels truly Miraculous. She slides you down, down, down towards the root of her bulge, cooing in approval of the long, drawn-out half-honk, half-groan along the way. Her skilled fingertips work your glans, your shaft, your balls, encouraging the latter to churn up a nice healthy load while you slip ever downward. Finally your cheeks come to rest on her thighs, fully sheathing her bulge inside you. She doesn’t pump, doesn’t thrust, just lets it pulse powerfully inside you with little flexes of her abdominal muscles while she works over your bulge.

“I knew my newest lil’ sister had some wicked talent in her even during your initiation, takin’ bulges like a champ, all while hangin’ on my every sacred word. Makes you feel good, doesn’t it, gettin’ pailed while hearing the good word? Makes you feel complete, feel right?” she coos into your ear, and you can only agree. With both hands now free to stroke and fondle and please, she keeps up the soft, tender, yet insistent ministrations, all while continuing to murmur to you. You can’t see her eyes flicker, but either you’re too stoned to think straight or her Chucklevoodoos are at work again - just like during your initiation, you can’t quite seem to make surface-level sense of her words, but at the same time they speak to your inmost core, bypassing the active mind entirely and filling your subconscious up to overflowing with mirthful words, wicked knowledge, and clowny thoughts. By the time her stroking is finally milking an orgasm out of you, you’ve got a broad, fucked-silly grin plastered across your face and each sticky pulse of your geneslime spurting from your bulge is accompanied by a long, hoarse-voiced, earnest HOOOOONK! A bucket or more worth of your rich, cold highblood geneslime oozes thickly across the floor, adding to the purple planks’ indelible stain. 

When you finally come down from your sopor and preaching-induced high to relax in the afterglow, you notice your belly bulging noticeably; seems like just like during your initiation, your Ringmatron’s release has been slow, subtle, and steady - constantly flowing into you the whole time rather than coming out in a gush. She fishes around in the box under the bench for something before she begins to lift you free from her shaft, your body twitching and moaning and one smaller, weaker orgasm escaping you at the intense sensation of removal. But before a flood of her blessed seed can be spilled from your wide-stretched hole, she pops a large plug in, filling you back up and keeping you corked. "Best leave that in a few hours, sis. No sense wasting a drop of your Ringmatron's special fuckin' geneslime, right my sister?" she says, to a drunken nod in reply. 

With tenderness she helps you redress, peppering your body in small kisses all the while, looking quite pleased for some reason you can’t quite parse. All you know is you feel invigorated in body and spirit, your mind abuzz with sopor remnants and your priestess’s blessed words. You glance in the bathroom mirror as you pass and giggle at your giddy, still-broad grin, noticing dimly how good your grey skin looks. Was your hair always so shaggy? You’re not sure, but it looks motherfuckin’ good. You pause to refresh your sacred face-paint, while the Ringmatron continues past you to do something in her room. When you emerge, a fresh coat of greasepaint on your features, there’s a new door in a previously unused wall of the room, its bright colors peeking out from between the tapestries. She hands you a Sylladex card for a MIRACULOUS PORTAL, the new door’s equal. “A quick way home for my favorite new wicked sister. It’ll always bring you back to the Dark Carnival wherever you are, and when the Miracles line up just right, it’ll bring you right here to me for a little... private tutoring.” You clutch the card to your chest like a treasure, nodding eagerly. She rumples your hair and teases your hornbases one more time, before lightly swatting your rear and sending you on your way. You wander back out into the Carnival to enjoy the rest of your night. Your spirits and faith have never been higher. 

[kiruuuuu]

Thank you both for the prompt, first anon and second anon ♥♥ If anyone missed it or has an atrocious short term memory, these came in as a reaction to this post and to @spacecreatorart‘s marvellous art here! Please enjoy :) (Rating G, fluff/humour, ~1.8k words)

.

“- effects are hardly anything groundbreaking, the CGI isn’t actually that well done but the film is fun enough”, Mute finishes yet another of his annoyingly informative rants. Whenever they watch anything together, he somehow manages to conjure up facts about it out of thin air – Rook has tested this ability on various occasions and even drunk, Mute is a fountain of fun facts about any series or film in existence. Normally Rook doesn’t mind listening to him spewing knowledge as he’s curious by nature, but today is… a little different.

“I have to pee”, Rook announces.

“Can you get some more popcorn on the way?”, Glaz replies before turning back to Mute. “I liked the premise but it wasn’t really that scary, I saw it as more of a comedy.”

Rook is glued to his spot on the armchair. The other three are lounging about, Twitch sipping her ginger ale while spread out on the beanbag chair and Mute and Glaz lazing on two different ends of the couch, all of them relaxed, visibly having enjoyed the film and looking forward to watching more. Rook still isn’t moving. It’s only eight, they started early because some of them are planning to go out for drinks later, Rook definitely not among them, and yet he’s frozen and his knees are weak and just thinking about the long way to the toilets makes him nervous.

“Oh, we can watch the original to the Ring or the Grudge next”, Twitch suggests with sparkling eyes, “I’ve seen both and they’re great.”

“Ask Ghost Boy over here whether that’s alright with him.” Mute points in Rook’s direction and the two other pairs of eyes follow the indication. He must be very pale because Twitch’s expression immediately grows concerned.

“Julien, is everything alright?”

“Splendid”, he lies through his teeth and forces a smile, “does, uh, does anyone else need to use the bathroom? Maybe?”

Mute is the first to start laughing. “Are you – are you fucking serious? You’re too scared to go alone?”

“Listen”, he begins but realises soon that there’s no coming back from this since Mute hit the nail on the head, the long hallways freak him out and the flickering lights and all the doors and he’s not going to go alone, he’d rather piss in a bottle than wander through the corridors when the base is this deserted already and fine, he’ll let his friends mock him if only it means he won’t have to venture out all on his lonesome.

“You’re adorable”, Glaz says with a grin. “We haven’t even started with the really scary ones.”

“Are you afraid of the ghosts haunting this place?” Mute raises a meaningful eyebrow. “Hm? Just imagine how many people must’ve gone through training here at Hereford only to end up dying in the field, being executed or just bludgeoned to death, dropped in a pit and forgotten. And what about the ones who died here? You’ve heard the stories from Mike.”

“This isn’t funny”, he murmurs but Mute quite obviously disagrees as he’s wearing a sickeningly gleeful expression now.

“Maybe they shuffle through the halls when we’re not here, looking for meaning in their undead life, rotting and festering corpses, the combat gear falling off of them in pieces – and they can still fight, you know, probably have more experience than we do, so if they see you and if they’re hungry, you’d better run – and they’re always hungry.”

“And maybe”, Glaz adds, “they’re clowns.”

Rook rolls his eyes and refuses to admit that the prospect of hearing dragging feet while stumbling about in the darkness is now not only going to strike fear into his heart but also make him run away screaming. “You guys suck. The only stupid clowns in this building are you.”

Even Twitch is joining in now, stabbing Rook in the back: “All I got from this was two zombies eating a clown, asking each other ‘does this taste funny to you?’.”

“Hey, I’m not making fun of your weird phobias either”, Rook pouts and earns a collective snort.

“You superglued a rubber spider to my hand while I wasn’t looking”, Twitch reminds him with a sour smile.

“You hung up a bunch of fake snakes in my room”, Glaz contributes.

“And you always make me order on the phone.”

“To be fair”, the Russian addresses Mute with a chuckle, “hearing you switch from your usual snarky self to a stuttering teenager as soon as someone answers is pretty entertaining.”

“I’ll go with you, Julien”, Twitch butts in before a fight can break out on the sofa. “I can get the popcorn and you don’t have to die of fright. Alright?” He just nods meekly and pulls her up on her feet before they step into the hallway. “At least you’ll have Elias keeping you company later, right? So you don’t even have to be alone.”

She’s right and it’s the only reason why Rook agreed to watching scary films on Halloween of all days – if it’s on his mind, he sees shadows flitting about everywhere, feels someone’s gaze in his back yet never catches anyone looking at him, has the odd sensation of being followed. It even goes so far as for his brain to make up noises, like the one he just heard at the end of the… wait a second. “What was that?!”

Twitch frowns and stops walking when she notices her companion is petrified, both unwilling and unable to take even one more step. The corridor is long, some of the doors ajar and the lights relatively low which is why Rook has no idea how she can look this calm. “I don’t know. Something. Come on.”

He’s shaking his head insistently, jumps when there’s a different noise now, coming from directly behind them. Slowly, he turns around, catches a glimpse of movement and then all of a sudden, someone – or rather something – steps out into the long corridor, moaning and moving decidedly inhumanly, and all that Rook sees is a mouth full of needle-like teeth, blood-spattered clothes and fucking clown make-up.

The very first thing he does is scream in panic and has no brain capacity left to realise just how high pitched it is; the second thing is starting to run. He turns tail and books it, ready to outrun this monster, escape this fucking building and run to the SAS living quarters because he’ll be safe there. Instead, he collides full force with Twitch, making her scream, and together they tumble to the floor in a heap of flailing limbs and panic. He tries not to let this deter him from getting away, begins crawling blindly and only then the laughter and the soft words register.

“Julien, Julien, please. It’s me. It’s okay. What are you doing?”

At first he can’t place the voice because there’s no logical scenario in which this person should be here, but when he peeks over his shoulder, the nightmarish, grinning mouth has disappeared and given way to a wide smile which can only be Blitz. Next to him, Twitch groans and slaps at him in dismay. “If you reacted this way on a mission, we’d probably all die. Get off me!”

Even a few seconds later, after the frightening apparition who really turns out to be none other than Blitz has helped them back up, Rook is still struggling to slow down his breathing and his pumping heart. Fortunately, Twitch doesn’t seem eager to gloat and instead takes pity on him, excuses herself for the sake of popcorn and leaves him alone with his lover. Who is grinning like a fox. “Shut up”, Rook snaps at him, “that was not okay.”

“I’m so sorry, I really didn’t mean to startle you”, Blitz replies softly, peels off one of his gloves and cards a soothing hand through the young man’s hair. “But I’ve been working hard on this outfit and wanted it to be a surprise for you – Dom told me you love the design of scary clowns, so I did my best. How do you like it?”

That fucking - “I hate it. I hate everything about it. I absolutely despise clowns, mon cœur, and had you asked literally anyone else, they would’ve told you. Don’t ever do this again, goddammit, my knees are still weak.”

“Oh. I didn’t know that.” Blitz actually looks sheepish and disappointed and yet Rook wants nothing more than to tear off every single part of his costume.

“Why do you have this anyway? Why did you think this was a good idea?”

“I love Halloween”, he replies timidly and okay, at this point Rook really can’t be upset at him anymore. With a sigh, he pushes his lover back into the room he came from – Blitz’ own room, so Rook really could’ve guessed who it was – and makes out with him for a while, both to cheer him up and to calm himself down. Regardless, the outfit doesn’t get any less terrifying, not even if he stares at it for a while.

“Alright, but I don’t”, he grumbles and snuggles up to his German who gladly uses the opportunity to lightly massage his back and pull him closer, clearly intent on making it up to him. “But it’s not your fault. I’m fine as long as you don’t leave me.”

“Well”, says Blitz and his tone of voice indicates nothing good, “I was planning on going out with the others dressed like this in about an hour. But you can join us and I’ll hold your hand the entire evening, if you like.”

Rook is about to give him the puppy dog eyes and whine about being scared when he’s alone (which wouldn’t even be a lie) but halts all thoughts upon hearing voices. Very familiar voices. He twists out of the hug, puts a finger to his lips and motions for Blitz to pull his balaclava back on. Blitz complies, grinning, obviously aware of Rook’s spontaneous plan, and they exchange a series of gestures, nudges and waggling eyebrows as they wait for the two people to come closer.

As soon as Blitz throws himself through the doorway with a truly frightful snarl, Rook peeks out after him so he doesn’t miss anything. He catches the momentary surprise on both Montagne’s and Bandit’s faces, the two previously deep in conversation, yet whereas Montagne’s expression remains slightly shocked, Bandit’s turns to genuine horror – he lets out a terrified shriek which somehow ends up even higher pitched than Rook’s but instead of running away, he jumps into Montagne’s arms without hesitation. The gentle giant catches him competently, holding him bridal style as Bandit keeps screaming and at this point, Rook barely manages to hold back his laughter.

So much for appreciating clown designs, he thinks. Maybe Halloween wasn’t so bad after all. And maybe he should go out for drinks after all because he bets everyone is dying to hear just how heroic Bandit acts in the face of danger.

[berrytaetae]

college!taehyung ♡

a/n: i was inspired by my favourite - @warmau - to start writing; if you want to read some beautiful imagines, please read her work if you haven’t alreadyㅠㅠ i love this boy very much so i hope i did him justice... since this is my first imagine, constructive criticism is much appreciated! also, please feel free to message me - i have no friends :) -🍓

being the fashion major that he was, taehyung was always around campus looking like a greek god

even if what he was wearing included a kilt and a pair of sandals, he was always turning heads wherever he went 

of course... his hair was no exception

it was basically his canvas, painting whatever new colour he wanted onto it

people would always ask whether he was worried about his hair falling out but taehyung just smiled his wide, rectangular smile and said that it was fine! he always wanted to try shaving his head anyway

and although the fashion majors were known for keeping to themselves, there was not one student who could say that they had never heard of taehyung

he was quite the social butterfly, always at college parties with his best friends, dance major jimin and film major jungkook

he wasn’t one of those people who went out to forget about their problems and wake up in some stranger’s bed in the morning

no, taehyung was always found dancing and laughing with some new friend he had just made

don’t get me wrong, taehyung enjoyed a shot of soju every now and then... he just knew how to control himself  

of course, you knew of taehyung as well - he was infamous for his good looks after all - but you had never crossed paths 

that was until one day, a friend from your study group had urgently called you because they had left their graphic design portfolio behind in the library and you, being the amazing friend that you were, had promised to pick it up and drop it off at the art building after class

after a long, emotional exchange of “you just saved my life” and “i owe you big time”, you had decided to wander around a bit... you had finished all your classes for the day anyway and you had never been to this part of the school before

so as you were walking around, listening to some music and admiring all the pretty paintings and sculptures, you hadn’t even noticed that someone else had joined you

it wasn’t until you had stopped in front of a particularly stunning watercolour painting that you had realised a boy was talking directly to you

taking your earphones out and apologising for your ignorance, you looked up to notice that this was not just some boy... no... this man standing next to you was the one and only kim taehyung... and wow he was even more attractive than you had imagined

stopping yourself from staring for too long, you stuttered, “i-i’m sorry... i didn’t quite catch what you were saying”

with a glistening smile, he repeated, “that’s okay! i was just asking what you found most beautiful about this painting?”

and before you could tell him that no, you weren’t an art major, taehyung started describing all the small details about what he believed the student was trying to convey through this form of expression

and you didn’t know what it was, but something about the way that he had captured the beauty of the painting in his words had prompted you to do the same

so you carefully explained everything from the colour, texture and composition to what you had interpreted differently about the symbolism of the painting to taehyung who was listening intently on what you had to say

and when you were done, he moved onto the next piece, doing exactly the same

you lost track of how long you guys had been talking for, but as you came to the last few displays, you noticed that the sun had already set and the cleaners were telling you guys to leave because they had to lock up the building

so taehyung and you went your separate ways and...

that was it

you hadn’t talked about anything else let alone exchange numbers... heck, if he wasn’t already known as the boy who caused way too many heart palpitations, you didn’t think you would have even caught his name

so you didn’t think much of your small encounter with taehyung until a few days later when you were grabbing lunch at the cafeteria

you were chatting with a friend, talking about the stress of exams and assignments, when you had reached out for the last bottle of banana milk

but instead of the cool plastic of the bottle, you were met with a soft, squishy object...?

and looking to your left, you had once again come face-to-face with kim taehyung for the second time that week

with a smirk, he snickered, “i see you can’t get enough of me”

“you’re the one who keeps following me around”

“and you’re the one who’s about to steal my banana milk”

and that’s when you began to rant about the shitty mess of a morning you had just experienced with someone spilling coffee all over your new white top and how your professor got angry at you for something you hadn’t even done when taehyung stopped you with a wink and said “don’t worry - i’ll strike you a deal. you get the milk if you help me with my next project”

and maybe it was the thought of not getting your banana milk that day or the way that taehyung had winked at you, but without a second thought, you had agreed to his proposal

so after handing you a napkin that he had quickly scribbled his number on, taehyung was gone as fast as he had appeared leaving both you and your friend dumbstruck in the middle of the cafeteria

“what was tha-”

“i don’t even know.”

that night, you had received a text from taehyung properly introducing himself and asking when you were free

and in a couple of minutes, you two had decided to meet at the cute cafe near campus the following tuesday

you couldn’t tell if something out there had decided to play tricks on you, but you swore that time moved infinitely slower in the days leading up to your date(?) with taehyung

but you planned out a super cute outfit for the day anyway

and when you got there, sitting down with your beverage of choice, you nearly choked when taehyung revealed what his exact plans for his next project actually were

“the fashion majors are holding a fashion show and i need you to be my model”

your first instinct was to immediately decline - you couldn’t walk down an entire hall without tripping let alone an entire runwary

but the excited look on his face stopped the words from slipping out and you were forced to nod your head with a sigh of resignation

so your next few weeks were filled with countless sessions of sketching, measuring and sewing

the hours would include taehyung groaning as he stained yet another one of his drawings with coffee as he worked on his project while you studied next to him until he needed to take his next measurement

but you guys got along well too well

taehyung would always make you laugh until you had tears wellling in your eyes and the people around you were annoyed from the amount of noise

and there was the small smiles and touches and the pink tint of blushing cheeks

and the moments of eye contact that lasted a little too long to be accidental

it didn’t help that taehyung was also a gentleman - he always offered to pay for your drink, brought you your favourite snacks from the convenience store and walked you to your dorm

but as much as you pleaded, he never showed you what he was working on, keeping everything as secret as possible

all you got were glimpses of fabrics and thread - nothing more and nothing less

and before the two of you knew it, it was the day of the fashion show

you, of course, were nervous

you had never done anything like this before and you didn’t even know what you were wearing for goodness sake

taehyung could have made you a clown costume for all you knew

but when you saw his bright smile greeting you and asking you to close your eyes, you suddenly felt the butterflies in your stomach become something more than just the thought of walking down a runway

with taehyung’s hands covering your eyes, making sure you wouldn’t peak, and a countdown from three, you were soon confronted by the most beautiful outfit you had ever seen

the white silk, adorned with the most intricate, fine details, caught the lights around it in the most beautiful ways

and the thought of taehyung working tireless hours to perfect this dress to fit every curve of your body made all your insides feel giddy

so in the spur of the moment, you threw yourself into taehyung’s arms, overwhelmed with the spectacular masterpiece that stood before you

but to your surprise, taehyung’s soft lips pressed against yours and you could feel him smile into the kiss

and in a soft whisper, taehyung asked, “before you try it on, i need to ask you something...”

and with a small nod of approval from you, he continued, “will you go out with me?”

“only if you let me keep the dress”

“i was going to let you keep it anyways”

“in that case, i’ll be happy to go out with you”

and that’s how you and taehyung became the most iconic couple on campus

like you guys constantly look like aesthetic couple pictures come to life with the matching outfits and everything

and you quickly come to learn that wow, this boy loves to cuddle

tbh he probably loves being the little spoon just as much as he loves being the big spoon uwu

when you guys are together, he always comes up from behind and wraps his arms around you, resting his chin on your head and shoulders

taehyung’s favourite place to take you out is the movies

he loves the feeling of the dark, open space

like he isn’t one of those people who gets bored halfway through a movie and starts making out with their significant other

no... taehyung is the type of person who will put all the armrests up and cuddle you through the whole movie AND the credits (”because what if there’s a post-credits scene that just makes everything perfect” he says)

once, taehyung had dyed his hair bright red and you refused to call him anything but ‘berry boy’ for an entire week

he eventually convinced you to dye your hair as well so it was a win-win situation in the end

his favourite place to kiss you is your neck and collarbones

“they’re made perfectly for my face” he says

and taehyung is honestly just boyfriend material™... like he would treat you riGHT

he would always buy you a bottle of banana milk and put it in your bag where you would find it with a cute note stuck onto it

and sometimes he would take you to fancy dinners where y’all would hold hands and enjoy a plate of spaghetti ‘lady and the tramp’-style with some glasses of wine

while on other days, he would take you on a picnic on the roof of some building so you could go stargazing

and sooner or later he would end up lying on your lap while you played with his hair, asking each other deep and personal questions about life

and taehyung would genuinely listen to all your answers because he thinks that your mind is just as beautiful as your face

and with closed eyes and a goofy grin on his face, he would tell you how much he loves you

and while you’re at it, give yourself a pat on the back because wow, you managed to score yourself a kim taehyung

[cullinankatsudon]

Life After Yuri on Ice - Beyond the Boundary Episode 1

Everyone is coming off their Yuri on Ice highs and are thirsty for more great story. If you’re looking for gay romance, well…um, hi there, but also, you know, there’s a bazillion other books and here are some others I’ve read, just a handful. Mostly though people are looking for anime. I’ve joined MyAnimeList and am trying to keep it updated (still thinking of things and adding them), but I’m also going to start rewatching and recapping the shows I really love and posting reviews on that site and my various blogs. It does double-duty as research/background amp for an upcoming work-in-progress of mine, but it’s also my happy place. So with no further ado, let’s dig in.

Tonight I’m starting with Beyond the Boundary, also known as Kyoukai no Kanata. The anime is based on a Japanese novel which has, alas, not been translated into English. I’m learning Japanese, but right now I can almost write out the basic hiragana with a cheat sheet and I can parrot back a few basic phrases and recognize a few in anime—Japanese characters are still almost entirely nothing but scribbles on the page to me, so I won’t be reading any manga or novels anytime soon. The bottom line is BtB isn’t quite like Yuri on Ice in that it was created specifically to be an anime, but it isn’t like Noragami or Haikyu! in that it’s being made into an anime as the manga is still being written.

I’ve already watched BtB all the way through, but it’s been about six months so some of the fine details get fuzzy. I also am absolutely no expert on Japanese culture or Japanese anything, so expect to hear me talk about aspects of what I’m seeing and be bemused by stuff that someone who knows better will pipe in and say, “That’s because X” or “that’s a Y” and this is all fine. I’m here to make all new mistakes in 2017.

This is post is analysis but also recap, so if you don’t want spoilers you should go watch it first and then get back here and read. You can stream it as of this posting on Hulu as well as Crunchyroll.

The first thing you need to know about BtB is that it is beautiful. I recommend it as something to watch post YOI because beauty is one of the things we fell for, and BtB delivers in every episode. The animation is often breathtaking and sometimes heartbreakingly breathtaking. The opening sequence is absolutely stunning, full of pans and sunsets and so much beauty you want to keep watching just to see what else they’re going to deliver if this is how they open the show.

The characters aren’t exactly slouches either. We begin with narration from Akihito Kanbara, who has spied a new female student standing on the ledge of the top of a building, and he assumes she’s ready to jump and commit suicide. He gives us a few thoughts about suicide in general, about what it means to take one’s life, and he remarks, without explanation, that this isn’t something that’s going to be an option for him in this life, so far as he knows. He also points out that he has two choices, to passively watch to see what happens with this girl or to be active and try to stop it, and though he’s normally a passive person he can’t help but rush to the rooftop and try to stop her. He omits part of what he says to her, though he lets us know he complimented how good she looked in glasses as he begged her to reconsider her suicide.

The girl remains still for a moment, then remarks, calmly, “How unpleasant,” backflips over the chain link fence, lands in front of Akihito, forms a sword out of her own blood, and stabs him with it. He cries out, falls, then asks, politely but out of breath, if she could please take the sword out of him for now. “What are you?” she asks, and he points out he should be asking her the same question. And that, he tells us, he how he met Mirai Kuriyama.

It’s a killer opening…and in the grand tradition of Japanese anime, instead of answering all those questions, we now migrate away from any attempt at those and instead go to high school, or university, or whatever kind of school we’re at here. All I know is there are virtually know parents, everyone lives alone in apartments or in big empty houses with older siblings, and they’re pretty much independent, yet they all go to school and despite dealing with paranormal issues on a daily basis, they still have to study for tests and tend to their club activities.

Which is where we open now. Akihito is in the literary club room with Mitsuki, who is one of my favorite secondary characters. She’s sassy, intelligent, and a cool head in a crisis. Also, sexy. In any event, she teases Akihito as they try to select manuscripts, but he’s distracted by noises in the hall, which turn out to be Mirai, who has come for her daily attempt to kill him. He is annoyed by this and attempts to explain to her, again, that he’s immortal and can’t be killed. In their back and forth they give us some grounding backstory we need to understand the story world: Mirai is a Spirit World Warrior, the last of a cursed clan with the rare and despised/feared ability to control their blood and used it as a weapon to kill youmu, which are these kind of demon things which can possess people but mostly run about making a muck of things and need to be killed. Mirai’s job as a Spirit World Warrior is to kill youmu, and she’s supposed to be really good at it.

Akihito isn’t possessed by a youmu as he keeps trying to tell her; he is a youmu, or rather is half youmu, half human, and because of this he’s immortal. It’s not something he chose, but there’s nothing he can do about it, so would she please stop trying to kill him. She nervously, fussing with her glasses (which he finds attractive as he has a serious glasses fetish) says she’s sorry, she must keep attempting to kill him. He stalks off, frustrated, and returns to the club room.

Mitsuki suggests he let Mirai keep trying, but Akihito angrily points out it hurts when she stabs him. When Mitsuki wonders why Mirai is so persistent, Akihito is struck with a wonderful idea, thinking perhaps Mirai is in love with him and that is why she keeps trying to kill him. He’s very pleased by this thought, because he’s all behind being loved by a girl who looks great in any pair of glasses. Mitsuki calmly labels him a deluded pervert, pops her lolly back in her mouth and continues reading a fiction about dismemberment.

Did I mention how much I love Mitsuki?

Then Mitsuki turns serious, suggesting Akihito should avoid any further interactions with Mirai. He’s surprised and asks why. Mitsuki reminds him that her family, the Nase family, are Spirit World Warriors and have jurisdiction over all the other Warriors in their district. She points out a Nase daughter is giving him advice, and if that doesn’t spell things out for him, then he’s stupid. On that note, she leaves.

Akihito, who is apparently stupid, meets up with Mirai, or rather lingers until all the other students are gone so when she tries to kill him there’s no one around. He does attempt to outrun her this time, but she’s pretty spry and after a merry chase they end up having a duel in a classroom which involves her being by terms as intense and clever as a ninja and clumsy as a clown. Their battle is interrupted by an invasion of a full youmu, however, and when it attacks Mirai not only hesitates but trembles, afraid to attack. Another Spirit World Warrior appears and gives chase, but the gig is up now: Akihito realizes that though Mirai has no trouble stabbing him over and over, she’s too scared to actually attack a youmu.

He takes her to dinner to talk things over, and while she eats out half the restaurant (on his dime) she explains she’s never killed a youmu, that she’s been too afraid. She was using him for target practice, basically, and since she realized he couldn’t die it was super handy. He gets angry at this, reminding her that stabbing hurts, and then the waitress reappears with more food for her and he’s even angrier at the idea that she’s bleeding him dry. “Wasn’t that the deal?” she asks. “You feed me in exchange for not trying to kill you?” Then he realized she intends to not try to kill him only for tonight.

He walks her to the train station, still trying to reason with her and point out she could be hunting youmu like a regular Spirit World Warrior, but she will barely talk to him and simply thanks him for dinner before she leaves.

The next day Mitsuki tells Akihito to meet her in the cafeteria for lunch instead of the clubroom, which is odd, but he does it because it’s what he does. She gives him a cryptic message, telling him once again to stay away from Mirai, more forcefully this time. She lets him know the Nase family is keeping an eye on her. But she also acknowledges that despite her warning, he’s probably going to have contact with her anyway, right? Probably, he admits, then laughs. “But hey, I’m immortal, right?” She leans forward and whispers in his ear, as serious as a heart attack, “If only you could die.”

Now it’s the end of the day again, and Mirai is meeting up for her usual attempted murder. Except instead she goes out for lunch in the park with Akihito, where he gets her to admit everyone talks bad about her on social media, she has no friends but him, and she avoids her apartment because there’s a youmu in there that she can’t kill. He declares this must be fixed. If she learns to kill youmu, then maybe she’ll leave him alone, he thinks.

She says she doesn’t want to, and he asks her, exasperated, why she doesn’t simply quit being a Spirit World Warrior. She shoots back, just as frustrated, that she can’t, reminding him of her cursed blood. She says she tried, but she can’t walk away from it whether or not she wants to. This is what she has to do. He goes quiet, gives her a small, sad smile and says, “It’s the same for me.” Then he leads her to her apartment.

They arrive, and at first it simply seems empty and quiet, but soon there are strange noises and movements, and the youmu appears. Mirai whips out her blood sword as the youmu forms, looking like some kind of floating unwrapped mummy…and the episode ends.

I love a lot of things about Beyond the Boundary. I love that the girl is the one whipping the sword around, to start. I love that the guy is pretty beta. There’s actually more about the guy to come and we’ll discuss that in upcoming episodes, and this will include ships, but we’ll cross those bridges when we come to them. I also love the whole monsters inside theme, which isn’t new at all of course, but I love the way BtB plays with that theme. I love that it’s Mirai’s blood and Akihito’s identity, that neither one of them want what they have inside them but to take it away is to end them and so live with it they must.

I also adore what I already mentioned, how we go through this whole thing with mega ultra paranormal background and it is only going to dial up, but meanwhile, don’t forget your school books. As a writer I’ve got to remember this grounding, because it seriously works. They lose it a bit in later episodes, but I really dig this whole “the world is a mess but school must go on.” Everyone writes it for kids but hey, it works for adults too because that would be Life 101. All damn day all I wanted to do was enjoy anime and maybe do some fun things but I had Things I Had to Do. Oh to only have high school in my way. At least then someone would be making me dinner. I’m the asshole who has to cook and make sure there’s food to be cooked. This is why I love the high school magic. Someone is taking care of the background noise. Oh, to have a cafeteria! A clubroom. An adult above me to pretend to have answers so I didn’t have to be the one standing up and lying my ass off about how it’s fine and we’re not all about to go down in a flaming Cheeto apocalypse.

The thing I’ll tell you too is that this anime ends happy enough that I’ll rec it. Now you may end up shipping people who don’t sail together, and that’s fine—the ending is vague enough you can still pilot side boats if you want. I’m not sure that the “movie” or extra version or whatever you call it is out on Crunchyroll. I think I watched it on Youtube but to be honest I’ll be buying the Bluray because I really dig it and need it in my life. For now, however, I’ll continue recapping the episodes one at a time once I have my life homework done and my word count/WIP goals met for the day.

 If you decide to give Beyond the Boundary a try, I hope you like it.