#meanwhile for the others im getting like. only scraps

[rocker-socks]

Writing a Batfam story that involves tales (unironically think Bratz Kidz Fairy Tales) and while i have Tim and Damian down (Rapunzel and Cinderella respectively, with changes made for Cinderella to be more appropriate for Damian) i am struggling so hard coming up with the others so if anyone has ideas i would be So Appreciative

[enha-doodles]

I saw some shorts in yt where the girl stalk her crush, spikes his drink, and kidnap him. But turns out he's been stalked her back as well and getting kidnapped was actually in his plan to get close to her (they're both just as freak)

I could imagine this scenario with Jay but its up to you anyway (my english suck lmao im so sorry)

NOT SO DIFFERENT | ✧⁺。

Pairing : yandere!Jay x yandere!reader

Notes : it's finally doneee , tysm for requesting and waiting for it so long 😭😭😭

Warnings : yandere stuff , obsession , intoxication , spiking drink , kidnapping

Our school bell rung signalling the most awaited time , the lunch break . The teacher was in the middle of speaking as the bell rung and as soon as the students heard the ringing there was alot of scrapping of chairs , chit chatting , laughing and overall a very annoying commotion. I stood up as yunjin made her way to my desk whinning "common girl you take so long to pack up , I'm hungryyyy" okay I love my bestfriend but I do not take that long and this bitch has no absolute patience . I rolled my eyes at her as we walked towards our regular seat with our food .

We were in the middle of gossiping along with eating as heeseung came with Jay and sat with us . I blushed a bit as I saw them and i could hear yunjin holding her laugh . I elbowed her as heeseung spoke up "hello guys , what's up" yunjin stopped laughing as she answered "we were just gossiping, talk of gossip I heard one guy of your group started dating is it one of you guys?" She wriggked her eyebrows teasingly as the three of them laughed meanwhile i couldn't help but tense at her words . It can't be him , I know it since I've been following him from 1 week continuously. Heeseung saw my expression as he cleared it out "no no it's just a rumour, none of us are dating anyone"

Yunjin smiled as she saw heeseung reassuring me . I could tell- honestly scratch that everyone could tell that heeseung liked me and according to him as well as a few other people, I like him back . Yunjin was one of the 'other people' and she alwyas tries to do something to get us together , giggling over a simple interaction we having that she quotes as 'absolutely romantic ' . I don't know where they get this ridiculous idea.

Okay to be honest I do know where they get the idea from but they are getting it all wrong . Yes I blush when he's around , yes my eyes always searches for his group , yes I fix my hair when I see him coming but it's not because of him . It's because of the guy he's always around with - It's because of Jay . They are bestfriends and are practically attached to the hip with the amount of time they spend together.

I first saw him at the guitar class in our school , then at the committee meeting , then at the cafeteria and then it was everyday. Slowly i was starting to realise that I liked him but it was just a mere attraction. Though the reality quickly changed when my mere attraction turned into obsession. My occasional glances turned into staring , i came to guitar classes not for the guitar but for him , and the worst of all I started following him . I just couldn't get enough of his smile , his scent just him in general and it was driving me crazy!! I wanted him to be mine and mine only .

Snapping back at the cafeteria I heard heeseung speak , "sooo Jake's having a party tonight at our dorm , you guys coming right?" I was about to politely decline but yunjin spoke before me eagerly accepting his invitation "oh offcourse, we need a break . The assignments are killinngg me" All the while I was just staring at jay and suddenly our eyes met but he didn't look away , his eyes were so intense and so deep that i could litteraly drown in them . Heeseung broke our eye contact as he stood up "okay greatt!! Meet you guys tonight at 8 " and with that they left . Yunjin looked at me as she squealed "he's sooo in love with you and you just can't stop blushing, just date already ohmygod!!!" I scoffed as I shook my head and stood up holding my tray "common you know I don't like him let's go we're getting late" . She followed me as she continued speaking "oh yeah sureee" making sure to exaggerate the sure .

。　　　　✧　　　　⁺　 　 　。

In the bustling chaos of a crowded party, amidst the pulsating rhythm of music and the cacophony of laughter, there was one figure who stood out to me like a beacon in the night: Jay. He was the epitome of effortless charm, his smile lighting up the room as he effortlessly commanded the attention of everyone around him.

We had reached to the party a bit late but the night was still young . I stared at jay as yunjin went to dance with some guy . He was the only one in mind , my every waking moment filled with fantasies of us together. But I knew that in reality, we inhabited two separate worlds, destined never to intersect.

On this particular night, fueled by a cocktail of desire and desperation, I made a decision that would change the course of both our lives forever. As I watched Jay mingle with the crowd, his laughter ringing out like music to my ears, I knew that I had to make him mine, by any means necessary.

The plan unfolded with chilling precision, each step calculated to perfection. I approached Jay with a coy smile, my heart pounding in anticipation as I engaged him in conversation. He was charming and attentive, his words weaving a spell around me as I struggled to maintain my composure.

As the night wore on and the drinks flowed freely, I seized my opportunity, discreetly slipping a potent sedative into Jay's drink when he wasn't looking. A rush of adrenaline coursed through my veins as I watched him take a sip, my pulse quickening with every passing moment.

With bated breath, I waited for the drug to take effect, my nerves fraying at the edges as I grappled with the enormity of what I had done. But as Jay's eyes began to droop and his movements grew sluggish, a sense of exhilaration washed over me, drowning out the whispers of doubt that threatened to consume me whole.

。　　　　✧　　　　⁺　 　 　。

When Jay finally succumbed to the effects of the sedative, I wasted no time in carrying out the next phase of my plan. With trembling hands, I guided him out of the crowded party and into the cool night air, my heart pounding with a mixture of fear and excitement , lying effortlessly to anyone that asked what happened to him - "oh he just drank too much"

As I navigated the deserted streets, Jay's limp form slung over my shoulder, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was on the precipice of something extraordinary. This was my chance to finally possess the object of my desires, to make him mine in every sense of the word. But damn was i a fool , i should've known . It was too good to be true , too easy .

When Jay finally regained consciousness, his reaction was not what I had expected. Instead of fear , confusion , screaming or thrashing there was a glint of something else in his eyes, something that sent a shiver down my spine. He was too calm for my liking .

"Nice place , though I do prefer a fancy bed but this works just fine I guess ?" Jay's voice was calm, almost eerily so, as he gazed at me with an intensity that made my blood run cold. "You know these ropes are cheap for a reason right ?" He said as he pulled his hands from behind his back and rubbed the spot where the bruise was forming

I recoiled in shock, my mind racing as I struggled to comprehend what was happening. Why is he so calm ? Does he think i actually got him here because he was drunk ? Or does he think we had sex ? But that doesn't explain the rop- "calm down sweetheart, I can tell you're thinking too much" he interrupted my thoughts sweetly with his honey like voice flowing through my mind . He stood up and gently tugged at my wrist as he pulled me closer and leaned down a bit inhaling the scent of my perfume which I bought because it was his favourite "hmmm my favourite perfume, got it correct sweetheart . How could you not you litteraly were behind me when I was shopping" he chuckled at the last part .

How could Jay possibly know about my obsession with him? And more importantly, why was he so unnervingly calm in the face of danger?

"It was all part of my plan," Jay continued, his words sending a chill down my spine. "I knew you were obsessed with me, so I decided to play along. But now that the tables have turned, it's time for you to realize who's really in control." He sighed as he sat me down on the bed , holding my hands in his own "we are meant to be darling , psychos like us are destined to be with each other for eternity and it's about time you accept it - not like you have a choice"

As Jay spoke, a sense of dread washed over me, the realization dawning that I had vastly underestimated him. He was not the helpless victim I had imagined him to be; he was a predator, lurking in the shadows, waiting to strike when least expected. He was the danger and i was the victim but did I seem to oppose the idea ? Fuck no , how can I when even as fear coursed through my veins, there was a part of me that couldn't help but feel a twisted sense of exhilaration. Jay's admission of his own obsession with me sent a thrill coursing through my body, igniting a fire within me that burned brighter than any fear or doubt.

In that moment, I knew that I had a choice to make: to succumb to the darkness that threatened to consume me, or to embrace it fully and revel in the intoxicating power it offered. And as I gazed into Jay's eyes, his gaze burning with an intensity that mirrored my own, I made my decision to fall in the darkness afterall was there any kind of experience that could make you complete other than knowing that the one you're in madly love with is also in love with you but just more insanely.

As we gazed at each other , there was a loud voice heard "CUT !! YOU GUYS WERE AMAZING" we both smiled as we heard the director . This was our 3rd music video shooting together after one of the first ones went viral . This was a new concept to us though it did not at. all. mean the love we showed , we presented was fake . We've been in a relationship for the past 7 years and been married for 2 now and it was the bestest decison of my life , he's made me the happiest I've ever been and I would not have it any other way . As the director was done talking to him , Jay approached me as he embraced me in an affectionate hug , our bodies fitting each other like a puzzle . He whispered "We really are meant to be , aren't we darling?" In my opinion we are not so different from the characters we just played and that's the thrill in our life .

。　　　　✧　　　　⁺　 　 　。

Taglist : @axartia @nikipedia07 @lovesickxmina

[zizbombs]

Is there a more useless cape in the bay than triumph?

After much soul searching, wiki browsing and pondering, the answer to that question is yes. Yes there is.

Meet exhibit A: Trevor, AKA Chariot.

The worst fucking tinker to ever live.

Outwardly, very similar to Triumph. Complete mouthbreathing fodder.

What really puts Chariot in 'I would rather have greg veder have this power' tier is the fact that he had so much potential.

Chariot is a movement tinker, one who I cannot stress this enough, HAS ACCESS TO TELEPORTATION TINKERTECH.

TELEPORTATION TINKERTECH.

One more time for the people in the back,

TELEPORTATION.

TINKERTECH.

I could cry, really I could.

So first off, you need to understand just how good his power is. He literally made fucking POWER ARMOR that could go 100 mph with fucking dogshit scraps. Fucking power armor. The only other tinkers with power armor was trainwreck (a guy who's specialty is literally working with scraps) and Armsmaster, who's funded by the protectorate. And this guy just fuckin made some shit in his basement with an oven and a blowtorch or something.

He's got an extra dash of that shardstuff for sure. Also for some reason he just has extra insight into tinkertech? Just added on, for shits and giggles. His shard was forking over the shardbucks to give it's host a head start, too fucking bad it landed on literally the worst person in existence to have a tinker power. even fucking leet would be better than this idiot.

Not only that, he was able to copy trickster's power. Yk, trickster, just the guy with one of the most versatile and powerful powers in a street level setting and even beyond some of that, no biggie. fucking trickster.

This guy could scan movers and copy their powers.

In a world where this guy had a single braincell, he would've joined the protectorate, scanned strider's power and worked with dragon to set up fucking portals all around the united states or something.

Instead, we get this fucking brainlet.

I'm assuming he could also make some sort of neurological implant to speed up his thoughts to keep up with his tech, but thats just another failure of this troglodyte.

I still, I'm still laughing at how utterly fucking stupid this shit is, but one of his gadgets that he made.

So get this, he made a jetpack right, or a flight pack whatever. Guess what this dipshit decides to add in his shit. A fucking bomb. Yeah, he added a bomb in something he was carrying on his back. The reason? As far as im concerned, as a fucking escape route.

Yeah, you heard that right.

The MOVEMENT tinker, put a fucking bomb in their movement gear, to ESCAPE.

???

Unless he had some sort of secret 540000 iq plan to do something else with that bomb, but considering this guy's track record I doubt it. Even then that's fucking stupid. Why are you blowing up your gear? 'Oh hey! I got a great idea! Instead of doing literally anything else, how about I put an EXPLOSIVE right next to me in volatile tinkertech! What a great idea!'

Anyway, I'm getting ahead of myself.

So, this guy triggered about a year before canon start. What was he doing in all of that time?

Literally fucking nothing.

All he did was just ride around at 3 am being a little shithead. A year btw, he did that for a year.

Then he eventually got caught by assault (lol) and was forced to talk to Kid Win. In an incredible play, since Chariot was working for coil and decided to become a rat, got DISCOVERED BEFORE HE EVEN SIGNED THE PAPERS. LOL?

This fucking dipshit was like 'Yeah, they'll never see it coming >:)' meanwhile the PRT had a meeting deciding to fucking just feed this guy faulty information. Can you fucking do anything 😭.

He just was taking L after L.

He's like Leet but he doesn't even have the excuse that his shard hates him.

He's literally Legend's long lost cousin.

no goals, no plans

what are you doing man? 😭

Worst fucking spy on the planet.

Literal shithead kid waking people up at 3 am going on joyrides, which would be based if he wasn't so stupid. Such a cool power too, definition of wasted potential. I just agh.

WHY DO YOU GET. LIKE. UNDERSTANDING OF OTHER TINKERS SHIT. JUST TACKED ON. WHY ARE YOU BUILT FOR COLLABS AND YOU DO NOTHING.

Only fucking this guy could take a teleportation tinker spec and be absolute fodder.

Im still laughing at the bomb shit. Why is your first thought as a movement tinker to put a fucking bomb inside of your tech. Like what? Instead of literally making anything else. Are you fucking stupid? Yes you are, you are stupid. Even if it wasn't an escape plan (still can't believe it WORKED as an escape plan.) Like, what are you gonna do, throw your shit at the guy your fighting then stumble away because you blew up all of your shit. This fucking guy.

Anyway, stay tuned for more hating.

[roseworth]

I read through your Dick Grayson asks and I would like to thank you for putting all the issues I've (also) had with his character into words. I feel like Jason fans (that have read his comics) are far more critical of his actions and will call him out on it. Meanwhile I haven't seen anyone be critical of Dick before, even when his writing activity hurts other characters (like him being the main leader in Absolute Power even tho it was at the expense of both Diana (a woman) and Mr Terrific (a poc), among others)

im going to disagree just a little bit bc i have beloved mutuals that Are actually critical of dick. not in the same way jason fans are critical of him because we hate on that man every day out of love. but my dearly beloved gay ppl in my phone will sometimes be critical when he deserves it

but youre absolutely right that just talking about people who read the comics (bc wfa/fanon fans are a whole different can of worms), jason fans are a lot more likely to be critical of jason. i think thats at least partially because every few months theres death penalty discourse about jason todd so a lot of fans feel the need to emphasize that they like the character because of his fictional actions and they dont actually support the death penalty. and since dick hasnt done anything that warrants that kind of thing theres less of a need to add disclaimers before talking about him

i do think that most dick fans dont feel the need to be critical of his writing, which kinda ties into what i was saying before about how hes treated by a lot of his fans as an unknown side character. whenever something happens to dick the general consensus about it seems to be "omg hes finally getting the appreciation he deserves 🤩" as if he hasnt been appreciated by dc and by fans for like 80 years. and it especially annoyed me during absolute power bc its not necessarily Wrong for dick to be the one to lead everyone but on the other hand the story kinda treated it like he was the only one who could do it?? i feel like diana was the obvious choice but she wasnt even considered. you make a good point about mr terrific too, i feel like hes a less obvious choice just bc part of the reason nightwing was chosen was because everyone on the team had a connection to him but a lot fewer people know mr terrific, but again i think the fact that he was kinda holding shit down during ap means he could've been the leader (idk a lot about mr terrific but it does kind of annoy me that they keep using him in stories to be the guy that gives everyone information on the multiverse then he doesnt get to do anything but maybe thats just me). anyways all that to say it makes sense to me why dick could be leader but it just bothers me that there were other choices but the story acted like dick was the only one who could possibly do it

and i think its not Super often that characters are completely ooc for the sake of elevating dick, but it definitely happens. i think it happens super often with damian where the writers will ignore his development and write him to be a mean little kid just so dick can say "remember to be nice damian ☺️" and very few people talk about it just because the people going "awww hes so big brother coded <3" are louder. and dick becomes the center of every team book hes on no matter what, which to be fair is usually because hes the leader so he gets most of the focus. but it seems like every single team book that dick is on becomes Nightwing & Friends where dick gets the storylines and everyone else gets the scraps and most team books are usually. yk. about everyone.

anyways thats my dick rant for the day like and subscribe for more

[xamaxenta]

woke up this morning thinking about MAS in playboy bunny suits . the context isnt important maybe theyre doing some kind of slutty pirate cafe but cant stop thinking about how insufferable MAS would be they would NOT be able to keep their hands off each other . marco trying to do his Job as a server but ace and sabo keep walking past to grab a handful of marcos dumptruck ass in that outfit eventualy he just gets fed up and decides two (three) can play at that game and casually bumps into ace like oh scuse me sparky i need to grab some new glasses for this table <bends over and grinds against aces dick> (these outfits are like latex or some shit and so tight these poor boys could not get a full boner if they wanted to but it does not stop them from trying) ace short circuits for a second looking down at marcos little waist and fat ass squishing against his hips while hes bent over and the only reason ace doesnt grab him around the waist and rut on him like that is because all the blood has left his brain

sabo meanwhile. oh sabo. marco and ace are nearly Spilling out of their tiny outfits but sabo fits his like a glove he looks like he walked off a playboy magazine with his lithe little waist and swaying hips and coy little smile. he is SO in his element schmoozing and flirting (and subtly interrogating because the dude litwrally never stops working) and he looks DAMN good doing it!! however he is still a littke shithead and likes causing chaos so he sits on the laps of these rich randos giggling and caressing their faces or letting them slide a hand up his back to feel around his waist, he loves teasing and fucking with these guys who will get absolutely none of this cake. it is instead all part of his master plan to get ace and marco cranky and jealous and horny about it so he can get his world absolutely rocked later tonight

marcoace are flirting and frotting and grinding on each other all night with varying degrees of subtlety but sabo plays hard to get and doesnt let them get near him until the shift is over and they MANHANDLE sabo onto the nearest surface and rip the bottom tiny scrap of the suit clean off (basically just a thong. how are they gettting away with it) and sabo is bent over the table, thrown against the wall, marco holds him up under the thighs so ace can plow him sandwiched between them, the man is fucked within an inch of his life, all according to keikaku . the outfits stay ON

Anon please i can only feel so much arousal in one go im only human help

I am withered… but so well fed…

Thank you what the fuck this came out of nowhere i appreciate it

[gladosluver]

ooooh you'll share your hcs about the student council (and ryota too ig) ooooooohh, i am a ghost here to tell you to do so.

AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH AHHHH AAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

heres a bunch of random headcanons i need to get out of my system!!!

tsubasa can play a piano and violin. aiko can play the flute. suzuko plays a clarinet. tomohiko can play a kalimba and shoji could do some CRAZY shit on an electric guitar and keyboard

karen owns a cat. or two. or three or four or five.. asukasei is deathly allergic and would start sneezing if they got too close to each other

sosuke goes to a haunted house all high and mighty just to scream at fucking EVERYTHING

kotomi used to think that "railing" someone meant to hit them with a train, not fuck them. she only learned the truth after she got mad and yelled "IM GONNA RAIL YOU" at kiriko and was confused why she started laughing

asukasei, aiko, and soshun have the cilantro soap gene

suzuko gets coffee every morning and orders the CRAZIEST drinks ever. like im talking that 15 sugar 9 caramel 12 mocha 7 cream type shit. she drinks it all too

daiki could prepare a 3 course meal for everyone and say it's "just some light work" and meanwhile soshun and sosuke cant even use a microwave properly

when they cant find something to suit their fashion preferences, suzuko and aiko get together and make their own clothes. ryota joins them and makes his own stuffed animals

taro woke up screaming one night because he had a dream taco bell discontinued the baja blast

during junior high, sosuke and tsubasa were twenty one pilots fans

kotomi dresses like she came straight out of the 2000s. full on pink/black/white mcbling flip phone juicy couture jean skirt stuff. class of 09' type fit honestly

once asukasei got bored and read the entirety of the great gatsby for no reason at all. he hated it

karen either paints her nails a new dark colour every week or goes months without doing anything with them

daiki owns a hamster and a rabbit and cares extremely deeply for them. they are SPOILEDDDD

shoji makes wired jewelry and is probably really into nu-punk too. sometimes tomohiko gives him scrap metal to work with

tsubasa once believed an AI generated image of a mermaid was real and has NEVER been able to live it down ever since

taro believes vampires and ghosts exist. ryota swears he saw a ufo and aliens once

some sad shit below muwhwuahuwh

unrelated somewhat but taro and tsubasa remind me of the song Caesia & Ruben

kiriko and karen had the same motive for opposite reasons. karen had a good relationship with her mother and was distraught to see her dead, but kiriko had an awful relationship with her mother and couldnt stand knowing she was still alive

the brain is active for several minutes even after death.

i really wish we got more info about these guys before they kinda died

[zkoh001]

"If you think it is my husband you should fear, you are nothing more than a fool."

Im dubbing this the tigermom au, where Misako had a legit reason to leave Lloyd, and it was to put fear of god in the hearts of destinies writers the moment they hear the Garmadon name. (In the meanwhile getting stuck in a time loop/trap)

Honestly I just feel like she COULD be a really cool character, if her abandoning Lloyd with no fair explanation didn't weigh her down. She pretty effortlessly rizzed both sons of god, and is one of the few non EMs shown doing spinjitzu. Also was quite good at it, if we can believe Wu. Tho I think she could do a bit more sass. (She was sassy like twice, and I live for it. Also sassy Lloyd, but that doesn't belong here)

Here are a few scattered ideas:

° When she hears the prophecy, she realises the only way to save her family is to rewrite destiny. Good thing she knows where to do that

° Using her archeology/history background she begins looking for ways to move amongst realms

° She leaves Lloyd at Darkleys (only for a few weeks, she swears) temporarily. Why Darkleys? Well, he probably would be safer with his father idolized rather than despised (see the movie for example)

° I'm not sure of the deets, maybe Travelers tea or some other method, but she leaves for Cloud Kingdom (or perhaps Time blades shenanigans, but honestly, I want her to punch Fenwicks jaw trough his skull.)

° Not looking for a nice chitchat with the people who broke her family, she wreaks havoc amongst the denizens of CK, looking for two specific scrolls

° Eventually they kick her out with joined efforts, and she returns dejected. The worst she expected was Lloyd starting a Garmadon cult amongst the students, not her son all grown up, hanging out with a bunch of teens in pajamas.

° I want to make her showing up more impactful. I want Wu and the ninja to be surprised, I want her to be devastated when she puts two amd two together (she doesn't know about tomorrows tea, so it seems even worse). I want her to mourn the time lost, but still be determined to make it up somehow.

° Note, that while it's not nearly as bad, she still had the attitude, of fighting her way out of her problems over trying to raise Lloyd into not killing his dad. This could be a character flaw to explore, and it could make Lloyd more drawn to her, since her attitude is quite a bit similar to Kai's

Sidenote, I know that sounds like Maya over again, but it does't need it to be similar really. I like to actually make Ray and Mayas kidnapping make sense, with Krux knocking them out with the tea, kidnapping them, and THEN forcing them to stay with the "I know where your babies live" threat.

So while Maya was kidnapped, Misako would have left willingly, albeit, for longer than she meant to.

But let's get to the mom part shall we?

° Honestly, outside of making Misako more interesting, this is a bit self indulgent, because I think Lloyd should have a healthy outlet, since trauma dumping Akita is not really an option now

° Lloyd would be conflicted, not being able to hate her, but still, she was never there

° "You don't have to forgive me"

"It's okay, you didn't mean to..."

"But it still hurts doesn't it? You can let it out"

° I know, it's harder to manage more characters, but I want her to BE there for her son, also let's scrap Wusako, I wanna make her love Garmadon, to the very end, even if it's tragic.

° She won't leave when going gets tough, and she would offer her own fighting skills to help too

Just some fun extras:

° She showed up to the Monastery after some rumors about demigods living there, to examine the place. The spinjitzu brothers found her, she used some incredibly stupid pickup line with fingerguns, and procedeed to steal both their hearts

° She's got rizz that literally only works on these two.

° The spinjitzu brothers would stare down any EM who dares question her presence, and she fucking knows it.

° Will watch with a shit eating grin as Wu lectures, and Garmadon threatens the poor sap

° Since Maya is the overenthusiastic mom, I will make Misako the bad influence mom, who makes her son do dumb shit kids his age should do (and 100% joins in, cause, whose gonna tell her she can't?)

° Lloyd inherited his grandfathers hair, his father's eyes, and his mom's face.

° I just find it funny if Lloyd showed up to CK, and everyone was hostile/angry towards him. And Lloyd being Lloyd would assume it's about his dad, since it always is. Except not now.

° "YOU! I know who you are! You are that woman's son!"

° "...Yeah, he is my fa- wait, what?"

° "Hey, look, looks like your mom made quite a mess for ya"

° " Which only means even more people hate me so thanks MOM."

° Lloyd is the house cat, if he doses off on you, you are not allowed to get up/disturb him (I like to think it started when he was little, but since he is still the youngest mentally, it stuck). The ninja (and his family) strictly enforce this, even on random visitors who fall under the cat-curse. This is not even really Misako related just Cat Lloyd? Cat Lloyd.

° ... Also, I think he should have a ponytail. (Seriously, that hair would be realistically such a hassle while fighting. Pull that hair back, so you can SEE you dingbat)

Just... I mean, Lloyd and Garmadon are already cat coded according to the fanbase, why not give them a feral wildcat mom/wife? She will hiss at anyone who messes with them, don't worry.

[surveillance-0011]

If ur still doing the HOL hcs can I get some for Krubis and Creature? Only if you want :>

Ofc ofc!! I’ve been meaning to post more Krubis he’s my favorite. Creature is here too but I'll admit i have my biases and this is mostly krubis 🫣 tee hee. warning for low grade body horror

Krubis:

Nonbinary. Predominantly he/him but fine with the occasional they or she. Butch Lesbian. To me. To me. Idk if anyone will see what I see here but this is all I see.

Helmet can come off. I'm assuming the drill and energy/jet pack can come off for the sake of maintenance and whatnot but it's a hassle and his hand is legit gone

I mean he's got other helmets in his office?? but meanwhile he's apparently worn the same sort of stuff for like 20 years (painting/photo in the mansion) and i feel like most of the dialogue points to it not being removable but Im. not sure if im convinced there. It also acts like he doesn't have a spare hand so. idk.im sure he could take off the drill and engine pack in case repairs r necessary. but ig he just doesn't for one reason or another

probably bc he's stupid and stubborn and holding out for a chance to tear someone apart. too bad he's only really tearing apart his own work

That and i'm sure atp it's all low grade cyborg stuff. The green bit the drill attaches to is embedded in his arm and i'm sure there's ports and plates n wires all up somewhere in him where everything attaches.

In and out of sobriety. He's. Not really sober atp but he was trying and I'm sure he still said so that he wouldn't get dragged back into full throttle addiction and so garm wouldn't get on his case abt stuff. too bad most people can see right through his lie.

Smokes too. Smells like space weed, dead furgle, dirt and sweat most of the time. Doesn't really drink though.

Got sober after a while of dating his wife, really got serious abt it after marriage + once his workload increased. Fell back into old habits once. yknow. all that. And he fell hard. Beforehand it got bad sometimes but after everything it was less of a bad habit and basically the only way he'd even feel close to alright.

Total cheapskate, lifelong haggler. If he can’t steal it or get it for free/cheap he won’t buy it. Also a bit of a hoarder, takes all sorts of freebees and scrounges up scrap material n junk that he thinks he'll get around to using for something later

Spiteful lil bastard. Feels entitled to much more than he’s got generally but is especially pissy about his space on the ladder rung. Envious of most others. Will never NOT complain about something.

Not conniving enough to work out some brilliant plan of sabotage but he's certainly a bully who has knocked others down a peg and screwed up what he can to get what he wants.

Weak in comparison to the other officers, and generally out of shape/rusty, but he’s still relatively strong and can hold his own. Definitely stronger and more durable than humans and other common alien species, even if it’s not by much. A bit sickly from piss poor sleep and eating habits.

Minimal combat training but he fought a lot in his youth and isn’t totally helpless. Certainly not happy with how the others seem to ignore all this and regard him as the weakest link. Even if it may or may not be true.

Violence is not the answer it's a question and if you're dealing with someone who has nothing to give you the answer is of fucking course. cleans moplet guts off his drills, shoes and Gus daily.

Not the brightest, certainly not as "brilliant" as some of the others but he wasn't born yesterday either. Street smart and he knows his way around.

Workaholic but work ethic leaves somethings to be desired. Certainly has spent hours just staring at his computer wishing he was anywhere else. Or bitching over the loudspeaker/hologram messages. Not to mention that he digs in to the harvest a bit too often.

Also not very organized. Not a total slob but everything is "organized chaos" that is just teetering on that edge of even being considered organized

No free time these days but his "hobbies" mostly consist of debauchery and causing mayhem. He is rather handy tho, enough to fix himself up decently. Does not go to mechanic or doctor like ever until he's totally sure he can't do shit abt it. should really take better care of himself either way.

He knows he has a problem. He knows he has many problems. He just lacks any drive to try and fix anything. Like he's legit given up.

Sticks with the cartel bc it's all he really knows and he's holding out what little hope he's got. That and generally has that mindset that you stick with whoever's looked out for you and though what happened with Giblets and Garm's incompetence have tested that loyalty it's still been such a huge factor of his life

And he's mostly cool with Nipulon even if he's said some choice words about Garm around him. Really Krubis has some respect and admiration but doesn't get why he still answers to Garm. Hell he wishes Nipulon was in charge of all this instead!

Distant from the other officers but has a shaky...friendship ...ish? with Douglas and the Skrendels. He's very very jealous of both these parties getting what they get despite their incompetence while he works his ass off in his eyes and neither Douglas nor the Skrendels appreciate this mindset... but they do look out for each other kind of.

Closer with Douglas. As ive said before it's very weird and on and off but he just can't stay mad at Douglas bc he looks at him and sees his younger self. So if anything he's worried and would like to try and tell Douglas to wisen up before it's too late. I think they mostly mention each other in their dialogue bc it's wild that a g3 officer was killed and word spread like wildfire and YOURE HOLDING THEIR GUN TO SHOOT EM WITH more so than them necessarily being close but no one else seems to really care in this regard so i will say it's not like they're *not* friends or whatever. May or may not know what he looks like out of his suit. i'm between Krubis legit not knowing or keeping the half-open secret for douglas's sake.

As for the Skrendels. They want him to lighten up and Krubis wants these dumb fucks off his lawn and for Garm to explain why the hell these meatheads get so much of Zephyr. Eternal jersey-new york rivalry. But they're all from rougher walks of life and on the occasion that Krubis isn't stewing as deep as he usually does in his bitter envy for everyone else they can kind of chill together

I feel like of the three Angela is a little less confrontational or generally chill so he actually gets along with Krubis the best outta the three. Jonathan is charismatic but very brash and generally obnoxious and meanwhile Mona is pretty serious and the least social of the three. Jonathan is generally cool with Krubis even if he thinks he's totally cranky but Krubis finds him overwhelming and the two both get fired up easily so it's not the best mix. And Mona doesn't really like him. Mona does not like a lot of people.

His relationship with his wife was faltering before Giblets slept w/ her because of increasing disagreements. She found Krubis to be pretty headstrong even when he didn’t really know wtf he was talking about. In general things sort of just stagnated with Krubs workin all the time,, no communication nothing new,, etc etc.

But!! They were pretty happily married for some time, at least like 5-10 years. Sickening sweethearts at one point.

He was pretty pissed about the cheating and divorce (and probably said some things to her that he shouldn't have) but he was much, much more hurt by her death. In his eyes Giblets practically stole her away just to kill her and didn't care about who he hurt.

He was totally planning to kill the guy btw. Or at least ruin his life right back. Never got around to it. Bc paperwork

I don't know if he'd ever truly *like* Giblets but once upon a time he was willing to give the guy the benefit of a doubt and was even able to muster up some kindness. Certainly saw he was smart and figured maybe he'd just gotten a bad rap. Never Fucking Mind!!!

He's angry with her too, a little. But most of all he's angry with himself. For never being there. For not fighting harder to win her back. For letting her die like that. Everything that went down made him much angrier than he was beforehand (even tho he was always sorta like this).

Garm's patience was wearing thin. I'd say the feeling was mutual but I think Krubis was a lot more fed up. She... atp does she even respect him? Used to. Fears him either way.

Also Fucking Scared of Gurgula. No trust there.

Wears work + utility clothes, function over form all the time. Has a lot of promo/event sort of merch from whatever goes on at Dularmoland and the like that he wears for sleep or around the house.

Never ditches the shades. Sensitive eyes and doesn't want people to read him too easily. His eyes r pink btw. They should be pink. Not enough people in this game have fun eye colors.

very prone to freaking the fuck out. guilty of adult temper tantrums and being petty +immature abt stuff.

I do think he helps around Dularmoland. Def behind the scenes but checks in a lot when he can and has totally shown up and lent a hand. he IS friends with Ranchy just keeping some distance bc he's busy and trying not to fall further into addiction bc he knows Ranchy Is Not Okay.

Very very very loyal to the few he's close to. G3 kind of sort of counts.

Pretty good cook, for someone basically stuck making survival/depression meals 24/7

Actually kind of a total fucking dork. They've got a bit of an awkward goofy side to em. Moreso just awkward as of late they have not really had any fun with anything for quite some time but they are not immune to mischief and The Silliness. Kind of hard to avoid as a living Drill Man reference. Embarrassed and in denial that theyre kind of cringe fail.

Actually didn't mind Gus and while Gus totally hated them, they weren't too cruel to him. Besides using him to kill moplets and trying to convince him that everything they were doing was morally fine if not correct. Which is actually very cruel but. They were very affable towards him if you get what im sayin.

Kind of found the Gatlians cute and interesting in general. Not enough to be against what happened to them though.

I do think if he stepped back and saw the extent of damage that the G3 has done he would feel guilt but in the end he'd rather keep his head down and keep going along with things.

Creature (yes finally Krubis talk is over)

He/him but it's whatever. greyroace pan.

Gender wise. idk idk if he was born with that uterus or the Skrendels put that there but either way. Male.

Tries his damndest to be positive. It's not too hard bc he's been numbed to a lot of the pain but it still veers into toxic positivity ish sort of thinking.

Gets very upset when others are upset and gets VERY ANXIOUS when others are angry especially. Generally very emotionally empathetic but after all that time in a lab where anger usually lead to him being used more like a punching bag/gineua pig by the Skrendels that gut reaction isn't gonna go away

also just. doesn't like sitting with all these emotions

At least he usually goes the route of trying to see what he can do for people instead of totally shutting it all down but still not a healthy way to think

A little clingy but generally well meaning and tries his best to be kind and morally decent

he just wants some stability after all this time, man. he doesn't want his whole life pulled out from under him again.

Big catastrophizer. But also very it is what it is. shaking with fear on verge of tears hyperventilating saying fuck it we ball.

Lowkey v v numb but what he does feel is very overwhelming

cheese fan big on cheese i think i shall make some nachos for him

Doesn't like medical stuff at all. Still wants to watch Grey's anatomy

I think tv dramas catch his attention in general.

Knows the most abt Gurgula of the Gatliens though that's still not much besides witnessing the experiments he got up to and what little he's overheard.

Could totally tell you everything abt the Skrendels though

very much a tim robinson character. prone to shenanigans

ig we shall learn more in the comics but im betting the lost love bit is probably abt him in the blurb.

Also guessing maybe he was a part of the resistance or the strike force but was captured and mutilated beyond recognition

not sure how likely this is but i would not be surprised if this lost love turns out to be harper or something and they take one look at each other and say "yeah nah whatever this is is fine for now". though it's just as likely it's someone totally new.

i think maybe his OG appearance looked more aquatic? with fins and the like ? maybe he even had the tiny lil hands gus has

in a human au his head would be shaved to like a scrappy buzzcut in the labs and it would grow out over time. roots would show his hair is actually brown but it was bleached then, either before capture or by the skrendels for one reason or another

Of the group he's on the best terms with Kenny. Gets along with all of them though Gus and Sweezy wish he knew why they were (and still kind of are) mad at Kenny.

Also got some bonding time in with Lezduit before he went off with BH's parents. They take solace in the shared experiences of being lab rats to horrible people.

The other Gatlians have tried to fill creature in on what life on Gatlus was like. He was sad that he had forgotten everything and he felt bad abt not really having that same connection.

Bounty Hunter told him about Pikmin and he is enamored with it.

[seoafin]

AHHHHHHHHH SERA UR COMMENTS!!!!!

ripmc is getting that phd in history babey i feel like her niche would probably be the heian period. that's where most of her historical document stuff come into play! also she researches curses you could say it's a hobby turned side job. other than that she's kinda unrecognizable. if people know her it's as sashisu's classmate. no name. no face. nobody important.

the bride is an oc that is coming back in a later chapter lmfaoooo you could say im subverting the shoujo typical love triangle (love...square????) we do NOT hate women in this space!!!!!

stsg's argument is meant to be vague! especially since we're reading from rip!mc's perspective lol i do want to write a stsg companion piece eventually. one day. but let me try to finish THIS fic first fsjdfnk but yeah it's never explicitly revealed why they're arguing but i feel like it's implied??? maybe only in my head 😭😭😭 but it's definitely not your memory issues it's intentionally left hazy!!!

LMAOOO she DOES let stsg walk over her. even shoko at times. but shoko is also aware of it and tries not to. but sometimes ripmc needs to be....bullied. shoko has the best of intentions! meanwhile stsg 100% know what they're doing. they also fully take advantage that ripmc has never said no to them (not unless it involves other people)

im SOOOO glad that you brought up her wanting things for herself and choosing them!!!!! (it's going to happen. starting with a cat gojo loathes.) it's literally the first step in ripmc like...actually becoming a person with normal desires and wants and BOUNDARIES. especially in a relationship with stsg.....

ANOTHER POINT I LOVED YOU BROUGHT UP! ripmc as a character. you are so spot on because when i originally wrote rip2myyouth and everything ripmc wasn't SUPPOSED to have a character! the og rip2myyouth is INTENTIONALLY left vague and blank. she's a completely barebones character whose defining trait is being traumatized by the hidden inventory arc. back then people weren't as receptive?? to mc's with actual personalities. not like they are now! i was trying my best to be aware of that when i originally wrote it. like my first draft of rip is actually drastically different. like the first iteration of ripmc is an adrenaline junkie LOL i eventually scrapped it bc i thought it'd be better to go with a blanker character. and then when i decided to give ripmc an actual personality it BECAME her personality!!! she naturally became apathetic and deadpan and straightforward. im soooo glad you brought it up because i've been wanting to talk about ripmc's character conceptualization for a hot second!!!!!

unfortunately stsg in this fic are rock solid. it's a petty argument i think you'll see soon djsfskfkjsd. and hideo IS going to be a catalyst!!!!! having an actual friend(s) outside sashisu is going to completely change rip!mc's life LOL and give her a better perspective on like...everything. hideo....king. he's genuinely a great guy. rip.

i think the absolutely sick thing about ripmc and stsg's dynamic is that ripmc is the absolutely perfect vehicle to be coddled by stsg. what's she going to do? speak up about it? LMFAO she loves them so much she'll let them do whatever they want.

dog days are over | chapter three

pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader x geto suguru warnings/tags (for this chapter): beginnings of a panic attack, mentions of implied dissociation and depression, slight nsfw word count: ~7.7k

fic masterlist read on ao3

There’s a wedding.

You know this because Satoru is holding a pristine white invitation with elaborately floral borders and calligraphy so curled it’s difficult for you to read it when for all intents and purposes, you are used to handling and deciphering historical accounts and journals.

That’s not the only thing.

The invitation had been addressed to both Satoru and Suguru.

The two of them are getting invitations sent as one. It means something. It’s an acknowledgement. Unspoken, but palpable. 

Satoru flicked the invitation open, indifferently scanned the contents, and threw it on the nearest surface (the desk in front of him) with a lazy flick of his wrist. In his words: a higher up’s daughter was getting married to some big shot young politician. Their honored presences was humbly requested. They’d be delighted to have the strongest in attendance for the joyous occasion.

You picked up the invitation and scanned the date. Next month, on the sixteenth. A Friday. You have off on that Friday. You know that because there is an exhibit one of your professors is curating at the Tokyo National Museum you had planned on asking Satoru and Suguru to.

Satoru doesn't really respond well to invitations. You could still ask him—

“Friday’s going to be a real pain.” Satoru texts away on his phone. You watch as Suguru replies in real time. You wonder if the two of them have resolved all of their problems if they’re texting normally. 

“Oh,” you say, surprised. “You’re going?”

Satoru’s gaze momentarily flicks up at you, holding your gaze for a few seconds, before returning to the screen. “Might as well.” The words come out begrudgingly. Satoru makes a face at his phone, presumably one of Suguru’s texts, and types out a long response.

You suppose that means that they have plans already. You don’t mind. You had been intending on going alone anyway.

Your own phone vibrates in your pocket. It’s a message from Shoko.

Ieiri Shoko

[4:31] there’s a wedding

[4:32] i have been invited to a wedding

[4:33] Satoru and Suguru too. Satoru said he’s going. Suguru too. Probably.

[4:33] ? Those two? lolololololol 

[4:34] I didn’t think Satoru was going to go. 

[4:36] your guess is as good as mine.

[4:36] how about you come with me? be my plus one

[4:36] say yes

You stare at Shoko’s text. Come…with her? To the wedding? You hadn’t expected to be invited. Either as a person or a plus one. You wouldn’t know anybody. The thought of being surrounded by people somewhere clearly didn’t belong makes you nervous. You won’t be able to rely on Satoru or Suguru or even Shoko’s presence. They’d be busy, too busy for you. You’d stand in a corner and stay quiet, and people would brush over you, a nameless person of little importance and significance.

If you’re being honest, it doesn’t sound like a good time. If Shoko really needed you it’d be one thing. But you’re sure your presence wouldn’t be missed. 

You’d let her down gently. 

You press out of the chat just as Satoru stands up to peer down your head and squint at your phone. You wonder what has him so curious, and shut your phone off and look up. 

“We should go meet up with Shoko and Suguru, shouldn’t we?”

Satoru only sighs, rubbing at his neck with a faintly irritated look on his face. That’s not good.

He takes your hand and leads you out the door.

----

Dinner is fraught with tension. You look from Satoru to Suguru who are pointedly refusing to look at each other, which is difficult, considering they’re sitting shoulder to shoulder in a crammed yakitori restaurant. 

You’re…unsure what exactly is going on. You thought your worries about Satoru and Suguru were a worry for the past, but now, it’s impossible to ignore the pointed silence, Suguru’s cool silence, or even Satoru’s increasing agitation. Without the usual sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose, it’s even easier to tell Satoru's patience is running thin.

You look to Shoko, whose head rests on your shoulder as she idly scans the menu, unbothered.

“We should share the chicken meatballs,” she says. “And the squid. I’ll order two draft beers, and maybe some plum wine…”

You make noncommittal noise. Then look back to Satoru and Suguru, wondering what you can say to dissolve the tension and make them look at each other again.

“So,” you clear your throat. “Excited for the wedding?”

You smile encouragingly when they look at you.

“No,” Satoru says, unhappily. “Not really.”

You wonder why he’s even going in the first place. Is it because of Suguru? Are they fighting over attending the wedding? That sounds wrong. Satoru doesn’t like to put up with troublesome things, but for Suguru, a four hour wedding was nothing.

“Only children think the world bends to their whims,” Suguru remarks pleasantly, despite the sharp edge of his words. “Adults should know better. Even Mimiko and Nanako know better. Tsumiki and Megumi—”

If there’s one thing Satoru can’t handle, it’s a lecture from Suguru. That hasn’t changed since high school.

“Yeah?” There’s a dangerous challenge on Satoru’s tongue as his eyes narrow in accusation. “I know what I want. If that makes me a child, then fine. At least one of us does.”

“Shoko,” you whisper to her. “Something’s wrong.”

Contrary to your own panic, Shoko’s watches the two, amused. “The only thing wrong here is that I don’t have a beer.” She waves a waitress over just as Satoru and Suguru fall into stony faced silence.

A young, fresh faced waitress with her hair tied up in a ponytail bounds up to the table. Shoko lists half the menu, ordering for the table. Then she orders drinks. Alcohol for you and her, a melon soda for Satoru, water for Suguru.

“Make that three,” Suguru interjects. “I’ll have a beer too.”

She flushes prettily when Suguru gives her a polite smile, slyly tucking a strand of hair behind her ears. Satoru’s face darkens.

“How is medical school?” You ask Shoko. “You’re taking care of yourself, right?” You hope she’s taking breaks in between her studies and her work at the school, eating well, and sleeping a good seven hours every night. 

She faces you, cheek flattened on her open palm. “I should be asking you that. Do you even remember to eat if I don’t remind you?” She pokes your nose.

“I eat,” you say, a touch defensively, but you already know Shoko knows better. Sometimes, you forget to eat. Sometimes it’s too much of a bother. You're fine though. Healthy enough.

“Hmmm.” She turns her attention to Satoru and Suguru. “This wedding is going to be awfully awkward if you two don't kiss and make up soon.”

“Everything’s fine,” Suguru says civilly. He softens at your concerned look. “It’s fine.”

You don’t believe him.

Satoru’s gaze is flinty. “Who says we’re even going together?” 

“You’re free to go by yourself,” Suguru replies, serenely unbothered.

“Maybe I will. Maybe I’ll go with Shoko.”

“Absolutely not,” she says immediately. “I’ve already got a plus one.”

Your stomach drops, put on the spot. You hadn’t had the time to think of an adequate excuse to avoid the wedding as Shoko’s date. It’s too late for excuses if Shoko’s already told them you’re going. You can’t let her look the fool by backing out now!

They look at you. Your lips curl in an automatic smile.

There’s the beginnings of a playful grin on her face. “We’re picking out dresses tomorrow, aren’t we?”

“Yeah…”

Well, if any good came out of this wedding, it would have to be getting to go dress shopping with Shoko and helping her pick out a formal dress. You’d like that. You always thought she looked good in bold colors, and if the occasion warrants it, she’ll wear her bright red lipstick. You already feel lighter, excited at the prospect of seeing her in all different types of dresses. You’d take the job seriously, make sure you help her pick the best—

“Kimono,” Satoru states.

“Dress,” Suguru asserts.

You blink. Their gazes clash, and you can feel a chill come over you. What are they fighting over now? This might even be worse than the several occasions they fought in high school. Never had they fought about anything that couldn’t be settled with a good fistfight. Something tells you this runs deeper. It’s more than a trivial burst of high tempers, more than juvenile attitudes at work.

“What?”

A lazy smile hangs from Shoko's lips. She is thoroughly amused, taking everything in as if she’s at the theater. “I asked them whether or not I should put you in a kimono or a dress for the big event.”

You didn’t even think about what you’d wear to the wedding. You assumed Shoko would give you something. And if not, you could just go shopping. If Shoko was too busy to come, then Ijichi usually had a good eye for silhouette and fashion. You worry about your kouhai once more. He really is too competent for his own good. You hope you won't be troubling him too much in the future.

You are discomfited. You don’t want the hypotheticals of something as inconsequential as what you plan to wear to an event to be another point of contention between them.

“That’s…I don’t really care what I wear.”

“Whatever you want to wear,” Suguru says reassuringly. “I’m sure you’ll look perfect regardless.”

You warm at Suguru’s words, unexpectedly abashed as you lower your gaze to your lap. It’s hard to think of yourself as perfect, especially in terms of appearances when you’re anything but. You determinedly meet Shoko’s eyes. “I’ll do my best not to embarass you,” you say deathly serious.

You’ll do your best to be sociable, speak when spoken to, and try not to let yourself get caught up in all the important people you’re sure are going to be in attendance. You figure if anything this could be practice. Making new friends. Although all you’ve known for the last years of your life is Satoru and Suguru and Shoko. Occasionally Utahime when she visits down from Kyoto. Mei Mei too, even. You can’t rely on them forever, you know this. It’s easy to forget the monotony of the days before you entered high school. Days passing while in a trance, food tasting bland, the perpetual buzzing in your ears. You slept and slept and slept. You spent more days asleep than awake until you were inevitably needed for another mission.

You don’t think you had known what it meant to live, in those days. You didn’t know that the salty breeze of the ocean was a sensation in your nose that felt akin to the seconds before a sneeze. You didn’t know that the colored disco lights in a small karaoke room could bring you so much joy. You didn’t know that hot summer days could be idle, that eating a popsicle with friends could be a momentous occasion. All of these moments, engraved on your heart. You’d take them to the grave, and you’d be content.

You still occasionally experience these fits of sadness so encompassing you drown in it. Especially around certain times in the year. Sometimes, you find it difficult to wake up. There’s a boulder in your chest, pressing on your lungs and weighing you down. You sleep for days. Wake up to remind yourself that you still exist, and close your eyes. Other days, you feel your body move on auto pilot, from one destination to another, cursory smiles and words. You don’t remember much of anything. Just that when you wake up, you feel yourself again. And if you don’t, you sleep and repeat until you do.

It’s a troubling matter to articulate. Something you’ve never quite put into words. If it’s an inconvenience to you, it’d be an annoyance to others. So you keep quiet, and hope it stays a secret, where it won’t bother anyone.

“As if that matters,” she sighs, eyeing you warmly. “ You’re not that one that needs to worry about embarrassing me.”

She side eyes the two men seated across from you, and sighs. "Hopeless.” She flings the word at them. 

Your waitress returns with skewers of meats and vegetables and more. Shoko gratefully takes her drinks, and downs half of it down. Then she takes a chicken skewer.

The rest of your meal continues in either silence or short lived conversation. Suguru asks about your thesis. About Shoko soldiering through medical school. Shoko orders more alcohol. You ask him and Satoru about Kyoto, since the two of them have been spending more and more time at Kyoto tech for one thing or another. Meetings, clan visits, Satoru visiting members of the Gojo clan, etc. You stick to safe topics of discussion, and decide that any talk about matchmaking ceremonies or arranged marriages is dangerous.

It’s only so often that the four of you can meet up like this. Adult responsibilities and all. You hope Satoru and Suguru make up soon. To you, this time is precious. And even with Satoru and Suguru refusing conversation with each other, you’re happy to be with them.

The night goes by in a blink of an eye. Shoko orders another round of drinks. Soon it’s twelve in the morning, and Shoko calls for the check. You’re getting ready to leave when your waitress approaches apprehensively.

“Excuse me,” she says, fingers curled around a piece of paper. You watch eagerly, excited at being able to watch a confession unfold. But the storminess in Satoru’s expression creeps back in and you sweat. She hesitates, gaze flicking from Satoru, back to Suguru, and draws back with a shake of her head. The scrap of paper clenches in her hand. “I’m sorry, I thought—” 

“Oh, I am,” Suguru smiles. “Single.”

Shoko chokes on her laughter. Satoru doesn’t look amused in the slightest, jealousy as palpable as a strike of lightning and the aftermath smell of burnt grass. You stare down at your lap, willing yourself to be as small as possible, discomfort prickling at your chest.

“Oh…Oh! Then I—” she flushes, looking back at the gaggle of other waitresses towards the cash register, two of whom give her a thumbs up. She extends her arms, bowing her head, piece of paper tucked between her fingers. It looks like an offering. An offering of Valentine’s day chocolate. “I wanted you to have this! Just—just in consideration of me!”

It’s undoubtedly endearing. You’ve never been in love. You wonder if you were normal, if it’d come more naturally to you. If you were a normal girl without the occasional bouts of terror and sadness and the all consuming exhaustion. Without the need to hide away every once in a while. Someone who could lead a happy and guiltless life. You wonder if you had ever had a chance. A possibility for you to be loved. Or if it had been the inevitable circumstances of your birth that had condemned you to a lonely, forgotten existence.

Shoko takes you by the arm, excusing the two of you for fresh air, before you can hear or see Suguru’s response. 

Outside, snow is beginning to fall. You stare at it as it lazily floats onto buildings, Shoko’s head, the ground. You brush the white off her head as she lights a cigarette and inhales with a gusto.

“I needed this!” She rests against the brick of the restaurant and exhales. “Those two love to make their business everyone’s problem, huh.”

Your lips twitch, despite the gravity of the situation. “I’m worried about them.”

“They’ll be fine,” she briefly stares at the lit end of her cigarette, the ashes flickering to the floor, before meeting your gaze. “They always are, aren’t they?”

----

You immediately feel out of place as you and step into the hotel’s banquet hall for the wedding reception. It’s beautiful, decorated with flowers, vines that hang from the ceiling and down the columns, and ice sculptures set up around the floor. Round tables with designated seating and personalized name cards set atop the plates fill the venue while leaving the middle of the room, the dance floor, open. Not a single yen wasted.

You scan the crowd of faces for Shoko, or even Satoru or Suguru. There’s not a single recognizable face. You swallow down your growing unease, adjust the silk skirt of your dress, and try your best to inspire confidence in yourself. 

You slowly take in the rest of the grand room, take a glass of champagne offered, and then realize you’re too nervous to drink. There seems to be an unusual amount of people concentrated around the main entrance. Your skin prickles uncomfortably. Years later, you still don’t do well around consistent crowds of people. Sometimes, it feels like if you’re slowly suffocating, boxed in where the walls are slowly closing in on you.

It’s not a pleasant feeling. You walk in the opposite direction and try to tune it out, careful not to grip the champagne glass too tightly. You hadn’t been invited to the actual wedding procession. You wouldn’t be invited to the Shinto ceremony either. That was reserved only for a special group of guests. You’re glad for it. You don’t know if you can survive in close quarters with people important enough to run the country of Japan.

“There you are,” a familiar voice pulls you out of your thoughts, a hand on your shoulder.

You turn, brightening. “Shoko!”

She looks stunning in the dark crimson gown she picked out when the two of you had gone dress shopping, and you can already see a few interested glances in her direction. Her hair is braided up, exposing her slender neck, and you can smell the cypress of her favorite perfume. You catch yourself staring at the red lining her lips, a few shades lighter than dress. If anything, you think being able to see Shoko like this is worth all the troubles of pretending to be… somebody.  

“How was the wedding?” You hand her your own untouched champagne. She lifts it to her lips and it’s gone.

That gets a grin out of her. “Interesting.”

She tells you that it had been an arranged marriage, and the bride had staunchly resisted the match, to the last second, which explained the closed, intimate ceremony. Furthermore, the bride refused to write and recite her vows, which had made for an entertaining scene on the altar. And that when the groom had leaned down to kiss her, she had angled her face away, so that his lips had collided with her cheek instead of lips.

The story is entertaining. Though you can’t help but feel bad for the bride, forced into a marriage by forces outside her control. What if she was already in love with somebody else? What if she had no interest in marriage? What is she didn't want a husband?

Shoko draws back a step, looking you up and down with a nod of approval. She smooths out the neckline of your dress. “I thought you’d look good in this one. It makes me want to show you off.”

You glance down at the silk dress adorned on you, so soft it ripples with every movement. It’s a pretty dress, although you’re sure you don’t do it justice.

“How are Satoru and Suguru?” You ask hesitantly.

Shoko tilts her head towards the main entrance. “How about you ask them yourself?”

Upon closer inspection, you realize the crowd of people around the entrance had been gathered around Satoru and Suguru. Huh. You didn’t originally notice them. You must have been too caught up in your head.

“No thanks,” you say, not wanting to intrude, but you take the time to watch them for a little longer.

Suguru’s face is animated with a bright smile as he converses with several other older guests, head slightly inclined in a politely deferential stance. They’re both in Kimonos. Matching colors. That brings a smile to your face. Still united in some way even if they may be in the midst of a long standing argument.

Satoru’s face is shaded with sunglasses, a suspiciously blank expression in the indifferent set of his lips. You aren’t sure you’ve caught his eye, but he perks in your direction, and when you raise your hand in a slight wave, he straightens.

Shoko weaves her arm through yours. “Alright, let’s get more drinks!”

You catch the frown forming on his lips just as Shoko tugs you away.

Shoko manages to get an entire bottle of champagne. Then she leads you to the largest table in the room, towards the front of the banquet hall, and gestures to your seat next to hers before taking a seat and filling her glass back up.

“I healed the bride’s father a while back,” she says, taking a sip of the champagne. “Stage 4 kidney cancer.” She makes a face. “I hate making house calls, but the higher ups insisted. I’m not trying to become a private doctor.”

“He must have been grateful.”

“He was,” she snorts. “He tried to buy me into his employ.” She leans back into her seat, looking at the banquet hall. “The man certainly has the money.”

“You like it at jujutsu tech,” you say with a bright smile. “You’d never leave us.” You’d like to think she’d never leave you.  

“I wouldn’t leave you,” she says, matter of factly. “How could I leave you with those two insensitive jerks?"

You’re so pleased you don’t think your smile can contain it all. She said she wouldn’t leave you. The champagne you took one sip of sits bubbly in your stomach. “I’m sure it wouldn’t be that bad. Less work, more money…” you shrug. “If it made you happy, I wouldn’t mind.” Jujustu tech would probably fall apart without Shoko, so you leave that part out. You just want her to be happy.

She exhales. “I’m happy where I am right now.”

The two of you share a smile.

Shoko’s bottle inevitably runs empty while she recounts a funny incident in medical school involving a cadaver, and you offer to get her another one.

When you come back, there’s a man you don’t recognize in your seat, conversing with Shoko. You wonder what they’re talking about, for Shoko to look so unusually engaged. You’ve observed her in all her varying degrees of disinterest and moods to be able to read her well. You don’t want to disturb her. So you drop the bottle on the nearby counter of the open bar and turn on your heels to do another lap around the room. Once again, you spot Suguru and Satoru, who have relocated to underneath one of the glass stained windows running the length of the wall of the room.

Satoru is with the groom, a tall man with handsome features dressed in a tailored black suit. The rising star politician, you assume. Next to him, his sullen bride stands, surly disposition visible all the way from your place in the room. A stunning emerald dress is draped across her figure, ending at her ankles. Her arms are crossed. Satoru’s lips move in response.

Next to him, a couple feet away, Suguru is talking to a woman dressed in a silver colored heavy furisode, the two of them deep in conversation. Your interest is piqued. You can’t quite see her face, her back towards you, but you think she may be Suguru’s matchmaking attendee. 

You should give them privacy. Well. You shouldn’t be gawking at them. You turn just as someone else steps behind you, colliding into them. The ensuing collision has you precariously teetering back. Before you can regain your balance, a strong hand wraps around your upper arm, another around your waist, steadying you at once.

“You alright?”

The man you bumped into you gives you a dirty look, before continuing on his way. You look at the man. There’s something familiar about the set of his cheekbones, the curl of his lips in an easy smile, his dark green gaze, like the clearing of a forest. You’ve had this thought before, long ago. When the green of a boy’s eyes made you remember there was color in the world.

“Yes,” you reply slowly, waiting for him to let you go. “I’m fine, thank you.”

“I’ve been watching you.”

You stare at him, unsure of how to take his comment. Watching…you…? You hope you haven’t done anything embarrassing. “Excuse me…?”

He promptly drops his arms and steps away. You slowly move to take a step back. Maybe you could pretend someone was calling you over—

“Wait a minute! That made me sound—” he shakes his head. “Wait.” He extends his hand, a wide grin on his face. “Let's start over! Shirokami Hideo.”

It clicks. Oh. You know this man. Well, you knew the boy. You don’t remember much from your time at the Kamo compound. It’s a series of blurred faces and muffled voices. Long stretches of darkness. You slept a lot back then too, you think, because the only thing you do remember in clarity is the sandalwood scent of your comforter, and your preference for sleeping on futons. 

“Hideo-kun,” you say, as you remember a shallow brook deep in the forest, and the boy who had taught you to catch fireflies with his hands. You wonder how and why you had forgotten in the first place. You left the Kamo compound, and forgot it all in the monotony of the ensuing years. His voice is deeper, and he’s grown into his face, but if nothing else, his eyes are the same. “I remember you.”

He beams. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Do you still like stargazing?”

---

The surprise must be evident on your face because he sheepishly scratches his face. “The first time you talked to me, it was to tell me that I was looking at the Canis Major, not the Crow.”

You don’t remember it, but it touches you just the same. To think that someone remembered you, even when you didn’t. You had left a piece of yourself in someone.

You take a bite of your lobster, nodding. “I do. I try to go when I can. But I’ve been so busy lately…” You’ve also been meaning to take the kids with you one night. When the weather warms up, you’ll bring them to the mountains. They’d like that. You know Tsumiki was delighted when you gave her a book that illustrated the constellations. You had bought it for her with Megumi on one of your outings.

Hideo nods in sympathy. “It’s tough being a jujutsu sorcerer. Trust me, I’m taking advantage of the low season to take time off to relax!”

The two of you sit at a table tucked away in the far corner. Hideo’s table. There had been an empty seat which he offered. You gratefully accepted, especially when you managed to catch a glimpse of your original table. You had seen Shoko, Satoru, and Suguru. Along with the bride, groom, and a couple other distinguished people seated at the table. You’re glad to escape from the scrutiny. You do much better in obscurity. 

You spent the last hour catching up. Hideo was mainly located in Kyoto, with his clan, a Kamo branch family, but he had been preparing to move to Tokyo for a change in scenery.

You knew him for a brief three months, before his return to his clan for his mother’s funeral. He regretted not being able to leave you a note, or tell you that he was leaving. He tried to contact you after, but nobody knew your whereabouts, especially since you moved back to Tokyo and was subsequently lost in the system.

Currently, with his father on bedrest, he was preparing to take over the clan from Tokyo. The move to Tokyo is an effort to bridge the gap and relationship between the Tokyo and Kyoto jujtusu societies.

In return, you offered your own mundane and uneventful recollection of your life up to this point. Compared to Hideo’s, you didn’t have much to offer. You moved to Tokyo after studying the katana at the Kamo compound. Undertook missions as expected of you, and lived alone up until high school. Then you enrolled in jujutsu tech. Now you’re in school for your masters, and then hopefully, a PHD.

It feels odd to talk to someone other than Shoko, Suguru, and Satoru. You don’t know Hideo nearly as well, despite a brief history together. Where you can search for familiarity in the softness of Suguru’s smile, the mischievous curl of Shoko’s lips, Satoru’s straightforward demeanor, there’s nothing here to cling to. You don’t remember what it ever meant to be without them. It’s alarming. It’s frightening.

But you think this is what it means to start anew.

The room quiets as a spoon taps glass. Attention gathers towards the table in the middle of the room where an older man in a tuxedo stands. It’s a five minute speech that you don’t really give much thought to, your thoughts with the bride who looks precariously close to storming out of the room.

Hideo tilts his head towards you, his lips in your ear. “She doesn’t look too happy, huh.”

You have to agree.

There are three more speeches. You don’t recognize anybody. Soon after, conversation fills the room once more.

During a lull in a conversation, you excuse yourself to the restroom for a few minutes to yourself. Upon entering the brightly lit room, your gaze is directed towards a woman seated on one of the loveseats in front of a large, wall length mirror, fixing her makeup. You recognize her silver kimono immediately, and when the small, compact mirror slips from her hand and onto the floor by your feet, you bend down to hand it to her. There’s a lotus engraved onto the back of the mirror. 

“Thank you,” she says delicately, fingers brushing yours as she takes back her mirror. Up close, you take in her full appearance. The delicate contours of her light makeup to her exceptionally beautiful hazel eyes. Her brown hair is shoulder length, brushing her shoulders, bangs immaculately cut across her forehead. She looks like a doll, even more so when she gives you an inquisitive look, a polite smile curling her lips.

“Is something the matter?” 

You realize you’ve been staring. Your face burns. “I’m sorry,” you say, voice reedy, unable to articulate how lovely you think she looks, or how you had seen her talking to Suguru earlier, and whether or not she is who you think she is. So you simply awkwardly look at her. Nod your head in a curt goodbye and turn back around, intent on not speaking to anyone but Hideo for the rest of the evening, lest you embarrass yourself further.

You run right into someone’s chest, and hear a familiar voice say your name, the familiar scent of sandalwood in your nose, as a hand on your upper arm rights you back up.

“Suguru,” you say happily, looking at him. Up close, you think he looks especially handsome in his dark blue kimono. His usually pulled up hair is down, flowing down his back. You like it when he lets his hair down. You didn’t think you’d get to see him, or even talk to him today. “I seem to be bumping into a lot of people today…”

Concern immediately colors his face as he smooths your hair down and fixes the shoulder of your dress. His hand stays on your shoulder, thumb tracing your collarbone in comforting motions. “Everything alright?”

“Yes!” You reply immediately to assuage his concern, if anything. You hope he's alright. Or at least making nice with Satoru for the duration of this event. You're sure they've grown past making a public spectacle of their arguments, but one can never be too sure. “I’m no good at these types of events. I guess I’m just a little nervous…”

“I was looking for you,” he says, eyebrows furrowed. “Shoko said you were…” his features grow taunt, lips tugging into a slight frown, “fine. But you weren’t in your seat.”

Shoko must have seen you with Hideo. Which meant she looked for you. Your smile grows wider. However, even the thought of returning to your designated seat surrounded by the most important people at the event you’d be expected to converse with makes your stomach twist. Embarrassing yourself was one thing. Embarrassing Satoru, Suguru, and Shoko was another.

“She’s right,” you confirm, doing your best to reassure him. “I found an old friend!”

His lips reflexively twitch into a smile, maintaining an amiable expression, but it doesn’t touch his eyes. “An…old friend…?”

“I’ve been with him the entire time, so you don’t need to worry. I’ll introduce you,” you say eagerly, excited at the prospect of being able to introduce Hideo to Satoru, Suguru, and Shoko. “He—”

“Are you cold?” Suguru suddenly asks you lightly, hand slightly squeezing your shoulder. “The air condition is cold in here, isn’t it?”

“Not really,” you blink. “...Are you cold?” That wouldn’t do. Maybe you could ask the hotel receptionist—

“Geto-sama,” a voice interrupts, “I didn’t think I’d find you out here.” You turn, seeing the woman in the silver kimono, once more, smiling, a fresh layer of red painting her lips. You straighten, resisting the urge to smooth out your dress.

“I was on my way to get some air,” Suguru answers with a smile of his own. “I ran into a close friend.” He chuckles goodnaturedly. “I’m trying to convince her to come back with me.”

Come back with him?

Her gaze slides to you. If she remembers you, her expression is unreadable. Her eyes slightly widen. “Oh my,” she lifts her hand to her mouth. “Is it your seat I’ve taken? My apologies—”

“Oh, it’s fine!” You wave her off. She looks genuinely apologetic. “Please, take my seat. I’ve found another with an old friend.”

“Is that so…” She trails off, glancing up at Suguru. “Forgive me, we haven’t been properly introduced.” She lowers her head. “Sasaki Kumiko. Pleased to meet your acquaintance.”

You reply with your own name, and an encouraging smile.

“Speaking of,” you step away. “I’ve kept Hideo-kun waiting long enough. Why don’t you take her with you to get fresh air, Suguru?”

“It would be a pleasure,” Kumiko says, eyes brightening at the idea, giving a face a certain type of incandescent joy. “I would love to accompany you.”

You don’t wait for his reply to make yourself scarce. You give his hand a little squeeze, before making your way back to Hideo.

The two of you fall back into easy conversation and talk until the moon is high and bright in the sky. Plates are cleared and guests start to rise once again, mingling and talking as the dancefloor begins to fill up.

You’re unsure of what to do. Should you look for Shoko again? You’re not much of a dancer. You don’t want to hold her back with your discomfort. Hideo lightly taps on your arm, bending down to whisper into your ear: “There’s a garden outside. Do you want to walk with me?”

You are instantly relieved. With everybody crowded around the dance floor to witness the bride and groom’s first dance, the two of you would be able to slip outside. Nobody would be there. You could get away.

You nod, and he takes your hand, leading you towards the exit leading to the hotel lobby, and then outside. As the two of you step out into the pebble lined path, lit up in anticipation for the wedding, you can still hear the strings of the quartet playing from the ballroom. Immaculately tended flowers line the path, flowers of every color and shape. You sigh, feeling the tension slipping from your body. 

“I’m sorry if I scared you. Earlier.” Hideo laughs, rubbing the back of his neck, turning to you earnestly. “I saw you earlier, and I spent so much time thinking of what to say to you that I completely forgot what I was going to say!”

You laugh, despite the outside chill trailing over your body. You relate to the feeling of your tongue not working at times. “You didn’t scare me. But I did think you mistook me for someone else at first,” you admit. You were initially perturbed, that was true. You’re glad he cleared the air before you managed to escape. You’re glad that you’ve met him again, after all these years.

The path opens to a small clearing with an empty fountain as Hideo fondly details his short lived time at the main Kamo estate with you. At the Kamo compound, he was one of many boys, left alone to his own devices in favor of the more elite sons of the family. It was the first time he had ever tasted freedom away from his own clan estate, where he was coddled by servants and his sickly mother.

Upon your silence, he looks at you, concerned. “Is it cold?” He moves to take off his jacket but you stop him.

“It’s not that,” you blurt out. The cold feels good on your skin. Calms you down. “I don’t remember much from back then. It’s all…hazy.” Any recollection of your childhood draws a blank. It makes you feel bad that you can’t dignify his memories with your own. “But I know that…” you trail off, staring at your feet. “You were kind to me. Back then.” Even you know that you hadn’t been in the right state of mind so soon after your father died. You wanted to leave the past behind. You didn’t want to remember. You had to forget to survive.

You sit down on the cold surface of stone, and exhale. You didn’t realize Hideo’s appearance would dredge up the past like this. You feel tired all of a sudden. You want to go back to the apartment you’ve made a home, curl up in your bed, and let sleep claim you once more.

A weight settles on your shoulders as the warmth of Hideo’s jacket envelopes you. He takes a seat next to you, gaze searching yours. 

“You were a child,” he says gently. “It’s okay to forgive yourself—”

You don’t hear the rest of his words as blood rushes to your ears. You can’t swallow the lump in your throat, and your face feels hot to the touch. Your fingers curl into the skirt of your dress. Forgiveness . You have no right to forgiveness. You allow yourself just enough happiness, and that’s enough. 

“—it was only three months.” His gaze turns a touch concerned. “Are you alright?”

Panic bubbles in your chest as you manage shallow breaths, staring at him in increasing discomfort as your vision begins to go spotty.

Forgiveness? Your father died before he could forgive you. He died resenting your birth. He wished you had died instead of your mother. The forgiveness to absolve yourself isn't yours.

“There you are.”

You’d recognize the sharp cadence of Satoru’s voice anywhere. You focus on it. He’s unhappy. You wonder if he got into another fight with Suguru. You turn to where he stands, arms crossed, jaw set into a hard line. In the moonlight he glows otherworldly, a piece of divinity on earth. If only his expression matched.

His eyes are piercingly alight as he approaches. “Shoko’s looking for you.”

“Oh.” You perk up. “She is?” In your momentary elation at the prospect of seeing Shoko again, the anxiety dissipates enough for you to collect yourself. You almost forget to make introductions, but Hideo beats you to it, standing up. 

“Gojo-sama,” he says, inclining his head. “It’s an—”

“Like I care,” is Satoru’s clipped response. A dismissive glance in Hideo’s general direction, before his gaze is focused on you again. You stare at him, taken aback at his rudeness.

He pulls you up, not roughly, and examines you with a keen eye. He takes in the coat on your shoulders, and irritation shrouds his face once more. He swipes it off your shoulders and throws it back on the fountain. Then he takes off his haori and sweeps it over your shoulders. Without another word, he takes you by the wrist and away.

You give Hideo one last glance over your shoulder. He waves, a good natured smile on his face.

You eye Satoru’s back, trying to tug your hand back to your side to no avail. His fingers are locked around your wrist. Despite his annoyance, you’re happy to see him. There’s so much you want to tell him, about all the small details about your shameful past you tried to hide, about the small things you did remember about your time at the Kamo compound, even about Hideo—

You are backed into a wall, Satoru looming above you, eyes flashing. “Who the hell was that?”

You blink at him, looking from Satoru’s left arm caging you into the wall, to the other with slight disbelief.  “Shirokami…Hideo…” We lived together when we were younger. Back when I had nobody. Back when I was a ghost. He taught me how to catch fireflies. I don’t remember much about those days, but I think he made me happy.

You hold your tongue.

You hope you aren’t being presumptuous. “He’s a friend—”

Satoru’s fingers dig into your chin as he lifts your face up. You look into his eyes, brighter than the moon hanging in the sky, and you think there’s something disconcerting in the way he looks at you. Like you could ask him to defy the laws of the world. For you, he do it. And if you asked him to bring down a star, he’d lay it on your palm.

The world stills, just as it usually does when you meet his gaze. Your heart skips a beat in your chest as you stare at him, daring you to pull away, to drop your gaze back to your feet.

You feel his hand curl around your nape, pulling you to him with a squeeze that feels branding. He takes your lips with a bruising kiss, pressing you back into a garden shed. A startled noise leaves your open lips, and Satoru takes advantage, teeth sinking into your bottom lip with a distinct viciousness. You feel his tongue dragging against your own, hungry. Your eyes widen, never leaving his lidded stare that could be a glare. His hands come up to cup your face, angling you to his whims, effectively keeping you still against the onslaught of his lips as he steals your breath away.

He’s all you can see and feel. The heat of him, his palpable desire, so feverish it eats you alive. You push at his chest, feeling the lack of oxygen muddle your brain but he only holds you tighter. When he finally pulls away, a string of saliva briefly connects your lips, broken when Satoru’s tongue runs over his lips. Your hands are fisted into the fabric of his nagagi so tightly that you’ve pulled it open, exposing more of his chest than necessary. You let go, hands falling limp to your side.

His eyes lower back to your lips, and you startle. You’d take a step back if you could, but instead you push back into the wall. Somewhere in between, Satoru had lifted you up, your legs loosely wrapped around his waist, dress hiked up. Satoru’s hand is resting on your bare thigh with a grip that has no intention of letting you move, and a shiver rips through your body as you inhale gulps of air. His leg rests between your thighs, reminding you of the uncomfortable wetness staining your panties.

He leans forward and you unknowingly tense, but instead of your lips you feel a sting on your neck. Teeth. You wince, but Satoru holds you in place, fingers curling into you like a warning. You feel his tongue tracing the bruise, before he straightens with a finality. You might be shaking but you’re unsure if it’s from the cold or…

You stare at him, stunned, while he meets your gaze unrepentantly.

“I…” your voice trembles as the awful reality slowly sets in. “Could you…” you struggle with the words. “...Please put me down.”

For one terrifying second, you see the beginnings of the stubborn set of his eyebrows, as if he might refuse.

Then, wordlessly, wearing a frown, he lifts you down.

You don’t think. You bend down on unsteady legs to pick up his fine haori that had fallen to the ground, and neatly fold it. You hand it to him. He takes it. 

“Good night,” you intone.

You stiffly walk back into the hotel lobby, where everyone has gathered, ready to leave for the night or take taxis to the invite exclusive after party. You think you might walk to the train station. Nothing feels real.

You should text Shoko. Tell her that you didn’t feel good and that you took a taxi home. Yes, you’ll do that.

You accidentally meet Suguru’s searching gaze from across the room. You register surprise across his face. Then he slowly makes his way through the crowd. There's something wet on your lips, and when you raise your hand there's a smear of blood on your fingers. You take a step back, stomach twisting into knots. You’ll walk.

You’ll walk.

You turn around, starting through the hotel lobby where cabs have begun to line the entrance and the streets outside. You'll feel bad later. You walk through it all. Once you get far away enough, you manage to flag an empty taxi down.

You don’t remember the car ride home. You enter your apartment and make it to your bed just as your legs buckle. You fall asleep in daze, wondering if the night was all just a bad dream.

[lovesanmotion]

" hi can i request yandere prince yeosang and a mute maid reader please ! "

Promise - Kang Yeosang

💌 This is: Requested

taglist: @yunhobabygurl @atiny-chocolate-chip @minhyukmyluv @yunhoandonly

It started out when you were very young.

So young and so beautiful but already on your feet, putting your back on the labor work to help your parents earn a living. Something to put food on the table, clothes on your backs and keep the roof on top of your heads. Life was tough, but you were tougher.

Every morning you would get up very early and leave immediately so you could head over to the inn that you were working at to prepare food for the guests. When the afternoon rolls, you would leave the inn and head over to Mrs Im's house and help sew clothings that were given by her customers. Mrs Im is anold woman who enjoyed your company, unlike the other older girls, she was very kind to you and often gifted you hairpins, clips and books. Meanwhile, the older girls often slacked and daydreamed about what would their life be like if they were born into royalty.

The king and the queen were so loved by the people, and when the news broke out that the queen gave birth to a boy, everyone celebrated the birth of a new succeeding heir for a week. Just like his name, he is their everything.

Your mother worked as a seamstress while your father a fisherman. Life may not be cakes and roses for you, but you made it meet both ends. However, an unfortunate event occured one night. Hiding underneath the bed, you witnessed through the gaps of the bed how your mother and father were stabbed brutally to their death before setting the house on fire. To stunned and scared to death to move, you wished the flames would engulf you quickly. So young and so beautiful, death seemed like the only option for you. But the townspeople busted through the doors and were able to rescue you in time.

"Poor girl, having to witness her parents die"

"She's so young"

"Who could have done such action to her parents"

The aftermath of that night left you homeless, hungry, cold and mute. Nitpicking scraps of food through garbage bins, drinking polluted water and your fingers trembling in the cold. In one night, you lost everything. And it took every bit of fibre in your body to not turn to stealing.

When Mrs Im was informed of your situation, she quickly took you in to her home and nursed you back to your health. When she tried to talk to you, you would needed a pen and a paper to write down your thoughts. Sometimes when you aren't looking, Mrs Im would feel her heart crack a little. For someone so young and so beautiful to face such a tragedy and experience a disability.

One day at Mrs Im's sewing shop, a woman dressed in fine silk, feathers and pearls came through the doors of the shop.

"May I request for the dresses?" Said the woman to Mrs Im

"Certainly, madam" Mrs Im said, and with that, she walked through the back to retrieve whatever was being requested.

You didn't noticed the eyes of this woman on you, slowly she walked behind you and watched out the window as well. "Why such a long face on a beautiful day?"

You jumped a little at her velvet voice, blinking before staring at her. The woman lets out a soft chuckle before straightening her back. "What is your name?"

Slowly you reached over for the piece of paper that had your name written on it. Y/N

"Sorry for taking so long, madam. Here it is what you've requested for." Mrs Im says, placing the boxes on top of the table with a ribbons neatly tied on top. The woman took out her purse, and, since she felt her mood somewhat lifted after meeting y/n, she decided to pay more than what was needed.

"Mrs Im, if you do not mind me asking" The woman says, turning to glance at you. "Who is she?"

Mrs Im instantly brought a smile on her face. "She's Y/N. Her parents were murdered the other week. I took her with me and helps around here. In fact, she sewed the dresses you've requested, madam!"

Marvelled at how the girl knew how to read and write, has a talent for sewing and had an angelic face, she made up her mind.

"Mrs Im, I would like Y/N to bring with me to the palace"

That day, the woman who came into the the shop introduced herself as Ms Oh, a leading royal palace lady who is loyal to the queen. That very same day, she took you under her wing and brought you inside the palace as a palace lady servant.

Did your life change? Certainly. The other palace servants treated you like a sister and made you feel welcome and comfortable even though the servants house was always cold and had little room for all seven of them. But it was better than almost dying and living in the streets. But the memory of your parents' lifeless body, blood spattering and the flames were not enough to restore your speech back.

Did the other palace servant girls made fun of your disability? Absolutely not! In fact, they were very curious as to how your voice would sound like. Some say, you have a loud voice, but others would say you would have a soft one considering that your visuals were soft and delicate.

You could only smile and blush at their thoughts. Sometimes you wish you could join in their conversation without having to write everything down from your head to paper. And one day, the other servant girls took your work for you, giving you the rest of the whole day off. You decided to spend your time in the gardens, loving the cold breeze on your skin and the wonderful scent and sight of flowers.

"Hello!"

You jumped at the voice that spoke behind you. Turning around, the face of the dearly loved prince greeted closely to yours.

"I'm Yeosang! I don't think I've seen you before" He says, smiling softly as he rubs the back of his nape. Shyly, you shook your head.

"What's your name?" Yeosang asks, quickly slipping your hands inside your pocket, you handed him a piece of paper. Yeosang thought you were pulling a joke on him but once he read your name off the paper, he stopped.

"You're that girl I hear everyone's talking about" He says, immediately you took out a pen and paper and started writing down.

' I hope you've been hearing good things about me '

Chuckling, Yeosang nodded his head. "No trouble there." He says. It was enough to bring a smile on your face, however, you reminded of one court rule that arose in the back of your head.

' Servants and royals are not allowed to talk to each other '

Yeosang blinked and turned his head left and right. "No one's here but us. It should be fine." He assures you. "Let me take you on a stroll to my mother's garden" He lets out a hand for you to take. Slowly, your looped your arm around his got to know more about the prince. How he's been alone most of his childhood, hated social parties and luncheons and dreaded the idea of having to be sent off to look for a potential bride.

As the sun slowly sets, Yeosang walked you back to the kitchens, managing to pry away from the eyes of the guards and other servants.

"I'll see you tomorrow, y/n" Yeosang took your hand and placed a kiss at the back of your hand before running off.

It was the first time a boy made your heart race.

That night, Yeosang couldn't stop thinking about you. Finally having someone to listen to him and pour his heart out, he felt free. Free from the shackles of royalty and having to live like a proper individual. If he didn't act accordingly, his mother, father and his teachers would have his head.

During classes, he couldn't get his mind off you. He wished you were sitting beside him, maybe then he would have the motivation to actually learn something. When eating, he would sometimes catch himself trying to look for you in the dining hall. And whenever he caught you in the same room as him, he would always brush his hand on yours. A small act that already sends his heart into frenzy.

"Did you understand what I just said?"

Yeosang snapped and turned his head to face the princess besides him. "What?"

The princess, clearly annoyed, huffed. "Were you even listening?"

Yeosang didn't even know who she was and where she came from. All he knew was that he was busy staring at Y/N who looked extra lovely with her tied up into a bun.

"I have to go." He says, slipping away from her and ignoring her calling out to him. Racing to the other side of the hall room to catch Y/N. And when he caught her, he held her hand and together, they ran out and went into the garden.

' You're not supposed to be here with me '

"Oh please, you're a much better company than whoever was I with earlier." Yeosang scoffs, sitting close to you as you two admired the full moon.

' Won't someone see us here? What if they start looking for you? '

"They could stop breathing down on my neck for all I care." Yeosang rolls his eyes. "Honestly, they should give me break! I hate how they all look over me like I'm some fragile item. They don't what I could be capable of." He spoke, meaning every word he said.

Yeosang could feel the anger rising in him, but as he turns to look at you, your eyes turned into upside crescent shapes. You were chuckling without a sound.

With your eyes closed, Yeosang leaned in to place a peck on your lips. But someone caught him in the act of doing so.

"I heard from the princess last night how she was furious of prince Yeosang" The noblewoman spoke. Her, the queen and Yeosang dined together at a gazebo, enjoying scones, cupcakes, cookies and earl grey tea.

"What has happened?" His mother, the queen, spoke. Her eyebrows furrowing together.

"I was informed last night how the princess was disappointed of his behavior for leaving her alone last night. She wanted to get to know him but found him rude for leaving her!"

Yeosang rolled his eyes and continued to chew on the half eaten scone in his hand.

"Furthermore, I followed him outside and caught him in a heated liplock with a maid! A maid!" The noblewoman exaggeratted.

Yeosang intentionally spat his tea out and into the dress of the noblewoman in front of him. His mother lets out a gasp before calling the servants to hand more napkins.

"I'm dreadfully sorry for my son's actions. He's never like this!" She apologized profusely.

"Not at all! The servant girl must have corrupted his mind!"

That was the final straw for Yeosang, he kicked the table towards the noblewoman and had the desserts falling on her before walking away.

"Yeosang!" He heard his mother shout, but he couldn't care anymore.

That night, Yeosang managed to avoid everyone as he headed down to the kitchen. He didn't know his way around the place as it was his first time so his eyes wandered around, trying to figure out where could those knives be. As he pulled open every cabinet, the sight of the glinting silverware glinted in his eyes before taking it in his hand and racing back up to the guest room.

"Ms Jung! I'm sincerely sorry for my actions earlier and I hope you find it in your heart to forgive me." Yeosang says, politely bowing his head at her.

"It's alright, dear boy! I am pleased to know that the servant girl hasn't corrupted you or anything!"

It pissed him off whenever people degraded you just because you are a servant.

"The things I do for love" Yeosang mumbles before plunging the knife into the noblewoman's back.

"You shouldn't have talked down on her like that. Apparently, I'm in love with that maid and I'd kill anyone who throws shit at her. And that's a promise."

Placing a hand over her mouth to muffle her screams, Yeosang continued to action of stabbing her from the back until she was no longer fighting for her life.

[r0z0]

0. First day here?

Autor's note:

I just want to say that english is not my native language. This book can have small grammar mistakes, so please don't roast me much.

I woke up at the 6 a.m., my room was really small and I was sharing it with 3 other dancers. We all were going to Italy.

I was so nervous I couldn't sleep. I tried to fall asleep again. I must be fully rested and full of energy for this afternoon.

I started looking for some distractions. I looked at the window, but I didn't saw nothing special. Only some trees and empty fields. I sat on my bed.

"Maybe I could read something?" I asked myself. I turned my small desk lamp on and started to flip pages of my favorite novel. I grabed small green scrap of paper that I put between pages where I ended.

"No way that he drank that! Ew! Who would drink piss?!" I jumped on my bed causing one of my roommates to wake up.

"Great heavens! Can you be quiet, Aneta?! Can't you you see we are trying to sleep?!" She threw her pillow at me.

"Oi oi! What's going on?" Some weird ass dude opened our door. He had light purple hair and was dressed in some weird clothes that were showing his ribs on one side. He licked his lips when he saw foot that was not under green covers.

"Who are you?! And what the fuck?" I stood up from my bed and got closer to window.

"Let me introduce myself. Im Melone. And you look like a good material for a mother... Are you single?" He asked as he was getting closer to me and grabbed my hand.

"I can easily upgrade you to private class... With me of course~" He said and laid a kiss on the palm of my hand. I tried to slap him with my left hand but he dodged it.

"It's a good offert, but I have to refuse, sir. I already have plans." I slided to the left. Maybe I could get him from the back, but he seems too smart for that. He turned in my direction.

"Are you sure? Can't you cancel that?" He asked and grabbed my hand tight.

"I'm really sorry, but I can you something in return, of you want of course." Maybe of I give him a ticket he will leave me alone.

"And that would be?~" He looked when I was searching in my purse for a small piece of paper. It was white with a green stripe. I pulled my hand to his direction nervously holding the ticket. The girl from bunk on top of mine looked shooked at the ticket.

"You really going to give him that?!" She screamed at me.

He grabbed the ticket from me. Melone looked confused at the stiff piece of paper.

"What is this? What can I use it for?" Purple guy looked at me confused, not knowing of he should be thankfull or angry.

"It's a VIP ticket for my ballet show. You can go to the backstage with it. I hope it's good enough for you."

"Di molto!" He said and looked at me with a creepy smile on his face. He quickly run out of our room.

"It's your first day in Italy?" I looked at girl with blond hair. She probably heard the whole situation.

"Yes, and I'm already in trouble..." I sat on my bed again.

"He was a member of mafia. They always wear weird clothes. You are lucky that he wasn't agrresive. I'm suprised you actually handled the situation."

"He was from mafia?!" I shouted and quickly stood up. Sometimes I'm super dumb. Just in this moment. I forgot that I had a bunk bed above my head. So ofcourse I hit my head.

"Are you still in one piece?" She asked me while bursting out loud laugh.

Meanwhile in the private class Melone was telling his friends about a really smart girl that he saw here.

[sgt-nerd-plays]

Grand Waaagh!

Long time, no battle reports. Sadly, there’s been a bit of a global pandemic going around and being a responsible member of the community, I’ve been avoiding big gatherings that might spread the plague. However, your old sarge has been vaccinated, so with the help of likewise protected people, I was able to get a game in. This time, I was able to bring my ork army. Not just orks, but a whole stompa!

The Stompmost

Game Setup:

The idea was that it was going to be a more casual game where we would bring a bunch of models, play on on oversized board, and just kinda slam minis together with a bit of objective holding as a treat.

I was, of course, playing orks, and bringing 2000 points, plus the stompa. My partner was playing Alpha Legion, and bringing 1000 points. On the other side, we had one person bringing 2000 points of Crimson Fists (Hi Ryolnir!) and another person bringing 1000 points of Grey Knights (Hi, Zuul!) Thanks to Ryolnir for providing several of the pictures used in this batrep.

I brought Ghaz, a warboss on warbike, a weirdboy, five meganobz trukkboyz, a trukk (for carting around said trukkboyz), two mobs of boyz (11 and 14 models in each), a dakka jet, five warbikers, and one of each of the non-HQ buggies, plus an extra scrapjet. Except I’m an idiot and forgot one scrapjet and the dragsta, so I had to borrow a scrapjet from the game club’s cabinet, and a wartrike which stood in for the dragsta. I played as Evil Sunz, though several of the units (the bikeboss and the trukk) were Death Skulls and the dakkajet was painted up as Bad Moonz. I know, I’m terrible, but the rest of my army was wysiwyg.

My Narrative:

Warboss Scragkill Gudluk revved his warbike impatiently. Somewhere there was a scrap, and he was anxious to get to it. However, he’d been separated from his mob. And if that wasn’t bad enough, da Boss had shown up, along with a bunch of red-painted gits.

Ghazghkul Mag Uruk Thraka, prophet of da Waaagh, was giving orders. “Awright, we needs t’get into dis fight quick, so I want you an’ yer other evil sunz t’haul yer guts like they was on fire, you got it?”

“Er, beggin’ yer pardon, but I ain’t no Sunz. I’m Death Skulls!” Scragkill slapped the side of his blue bike proudly.

Ghazghkull responded by smacking him on the side of the head so hard he fell off of the bike and skidded several yards.

When Scrag managed to hobble up and lean unsteadily against the side of the bike, Ghaz asked “What was dat?”

“Er, da red ones go fasta?” Scrag said uncertainly.

“Dat’s what I likes t’hear. Now, we’ll send in da big lad first.” Ghaz craned his neck to look up at the stompa, with its grot rigger crew scrabbling atop getting it ready for waaagh. “I gots a good feelin’ about dis.”

Da Waaagh approaches!

Our deployment zone was in one quarter of the table, minus a nine inch radius from the center. I pushed the stompa up as far as I could. Its only real hope was to get to the astraeus before it lost too many wounds. Most of the Alpha Legion units were in Deep Strike, ready to move in at a moment’s notice.

The Emperor Protects! As does this wall! [Credit: Ryolnir]

The knights player put his entire army into deep strike. The fists player, on the other hand was deployed a bit more defensively than my orks. If only I'd been so smart. He ended up going first, and he immediately popped the stompa. Its work done, the astraeus returned with full honors to its cabinet, where it would do me no further harm, since it was obviously going to be a really short game if it had stayed on the table.

However, this caused some follow-on effects for both of us. Because he'd hidden his stuff, he didn't have angle with a lot of his stuff turn one. On the other hand, I couldn't get anything into charge range that turn, and most of my shooting couldn't target his stuff either. I managed to take out an assault intercessor squad, but that was pretty much it. My partner's maulerfiend was stuck in the back of a bad traffic jam with my warbikers. This meant turn one was spent mostly untangling this while his units got into firing position.

He did have a good firing line on one of my units: The trukk I'd hidden to the side of the stompa, sadly only mostly out of line of sight. It was popped, and I lost one of my trukkboy meganobz on the disembark.

Da Real Treasure Was the Dakka We Found Along Da Way. [Credit: Ryolnir]

I was able to get a couple of buggies into line of sight with his melee infantry, however, and I was able to take out one unit of assault intercessors with my snazzwagon and boostablasta. Meanwhile, my two deffdreads were trundling forward to get their claws on something tasty. At the far side of the board you can see my meganobz trying to get into cover until they could make their way to a scrap.

Bullets! My only weakness!  [Credit: Ryolnir]

The grey knights teleported in, taking the fight to me at the midpoint on the board. Meanwhile, the crimson fists player moved his units forward out of hiding and began taking things down. The buggies folded quickly under some shooting from his speeder and aggressors.

On the other side of the board, the meganobz wilted under the knights' shooting and smites. Ghaz lost four wounds to the psychic onslaught.

Yo yo yo! It’s Grandmaster Dreadknight, and I’m here to rap about how the Emperor saves, novitiates!

However, now it was time for waaaagh! A bit of shooting took out a few of the vanvets, and then the deff dreads ran up and gave the last three a nice hug, turning them into crimson smears.

Where did da humies go, George?

Ghaz, the bikeboss, and the bikers all charged in at the dreadknights. The weirdboy cast fists of gork on the bikeboss, making him right killy.

Hit ‘im in da face! Den hit ‘im in da face harder!

It turns out that seven killa klaw attacks at S14, with extra attacks for each of the originals that doesn't do damage, is a lot. The grandmaster was a deadknight instead of a dreadknight. That robbed the bikers of any attacks, since he was their charge target. But fortunately, Ghaz got full attacks on the other dreadnight. ...Of which two went through, and were both saved against. Some days you get the waaagh, some days the waaagh gets you.

On their turn, the grey knights smote the crap out of the bikeboss and the warbikers, getting them mostly dead and finishing them off in the shooting and fight phases. Ghaz ended up hanging on with a single wound.

Last Ghazp

The Crimson Fist player wasn't idle during this time. He took out the dakkajet with some long distance shooting, then went ahead and removed the two deff dreads, one scrapjet, my squigbuggy, and several boyz. That left me with a grand total of one scrapjet, twenty-odd boyz in two squads, my weirdboy, and Ghaz holding on by a single wound when my third turn came up.

Orks don’t panic. The sweating and twitching is just anticipation of a good waaagh, is all. No one is fleeing, we’re just looking for a better scrap, is all.  [Credit: Ryolnir]

But that was when my allies, the alpha legion, showed up! So secretly, in fact, that no photographic evidence for their arrival can be found. Yeah, none of my pictures from that part of the game came out well. Ultimately, his obliterators and terminators managed to take out the crimson first redemptor. My weirdboy managed to kill the grey knights chaplain, but the surviving justicar of his strike squad was able to deal a fatal wound to Ghaz, finally toppling the Prophet of the Waaagh.

We basically called it there. The grey knights player had to go, so the crimson fist player did his last turn of shooting to see if we'd have even stood a chance. The surviving scrapjet took a surprisingly long time to die, given it started the round with only five wounds left. But when it died, it exploded, and thanks to the careen stratagem, it was able to leave its mark.

Enjoy your mortal wounds, suckers!

Ultimately, it's a little hard for me to analyze the battle too fully. The abortive superheavy duel skewed deployment pretty heavily. It probably saved me a bit of shooting in the first round, but it also meant that I wasn't able to any shooting off my first turn either. Going second definitely hurt me, since it meant the trukkboyz meganobz weren't able to get their full value (though they absorbed a lot of firepower before they died, which probably saved some other units). The maulerfiend never got past the traffic jam until turn three, and the other units he had were too far back to be able to shoot or get into melee.

That left me pretty much high and dry turn two, looking down the barrel at 3000 points without any backup. By the time he popped in on our turn three, I was down to about 650 points, 300 of which belonged to one-wound Ghaz. Even if he’d popped off, it’s unlikely we would have been able to claw our way back out of that deficit. If we’d gone first, waiting until turn three wouldn’t have hurt quite as bad, but as it was, that was two full rounds where I was effectively 1000 points behind the enemy.

In the future, I’ll probably ask that my partners not go quite that crazy on deep strike shenanigans, or at least come in a bit sooner.

All that being said, I had a ton of fun, and it was great finally getting my boyz on the table. I did learn a lot about pitfalls in setting up, how variable some of my units can be, and how to move things fast. I also learned some organization issues, and I'll know how to handle them better. In the future, rather than showing with a stack of double-sided buttscribe sheets, I'll have them singlesided in a binder, so I can flip through them quickly and know where things are.

On the ruined battlefield, the shattered armor of the once-mighty stompa were scattered and blasted. The remains of orks and traitor marines decorated the landscape. The adeptus astartes were the only ones who survived to recover their dead.

And yet, under the hot sun, some of the debris stirred. A massive ceramite plate was thrown aside, and the massive power weapon known as Gork’s Klaw emerged from the wreckage.

[thenuclearweaselhaslanded]

Grand Waaaagh!

Long time, no battle reports. Sadly, there’s been a bit of a global pandemic going around and being a responsible member of the community, I’ve been avoiding big gatherings that might spread the plague. However, your old sarge has been vaccinated, so with the help of likewise protected people, I was able to get a game in. This time, I was able to bring my ork army. Not just orks, but a whole stompa!

The Stompmost

Game Setup:

The idea was that it was going to be a more casual game where we would bring a bunch of models, play on on oversized board, and just kinda slam minis together with a bit of objective holding as a treat.

I was, of course, playing orks, and bringing 2000 points, plus the stompa. My partner was playing Alpha Legion, and bringing 1000 points. On the other side, we had one person bringing 2000 points of Crimson Fists (Hi Ryolnir!) and another person bringing 1000 points of Grey Knights (Hi, Zuul!) Thanks to Ryolnir for providing several of the pictures used in this batrep.

I brought Ghaz, a warboss on warbike, a weirdboy, five meganobz trukkboyz, a trukk (for carting around said trukkboyz), two mobs of boyz (11 and 14 models in each), a dakka jet, five warbikers, and one of each of the non-HQ buggies, plus an extra scrapjet. Except I’m an idiot and forgot one scrapjet and the dragsta, so I had to borrow a scrapjet from the game club’s cabinet, and a wartrike which stood in for the dragsta. I played as Evil Sunz, though several of the units (the bikeboss and the trukk) were Death Skulls and the dakkajet was painted up as Bad Moonz. I know, I’m terrible, but the rest of my army was wysiwyg.

My Narrative:

Warboss Scragkill Gudluk revved his warbike impatiently. Somewhere there was a scrap, and he was anxious to get to it. However, he’d been separated from his mob. And if that wasn’t bad enough, da Boss had shown up, along with a bunch of red-painted gits.

Ghazghkul Mag Uruk Thraka, prophet of da Waaagh, was giving orders. “Awright, we needs t’get into dis fight quick, so I want you an’ yer other evil sunz t’haul yer guts like they was on fire, you got it?”

“Er, beggin’ yer pardon, but I ain’t no Sunz. I’m Death Skulls!” Scragkill slapped the side of his blue bike proudly.

Ghazghkull responded by smacking him on the side of the head so hard he fell off of the bike and skidded several yards.

When Scrag managed to hobble up and lean unsteadily against the side of the bike, Ghaz asked “What was dat?”

“Er, da red ones go fasta?” Scrag said uncertainly.

“Dat’s what I likes t’hear. Now, we’ll send in da big lad first.” Ghaz craned his neck to look up at the stompa, with its grot rigger crew scrabbling atop getting it ready for waaagh. “I gots a good feelin’ about dis.” 

Da Waaagh approaches!

Our deployment zone was in one quarter of the table, minus a nine inch radius from the center. I pushed the stompa up as far as I could. Its only real hope was to get to the astraeus before it lost too many wounds. Most of the Alpha Legion units were in Deep Strike, ready to move in at a moment’s notice.

The Emperor Protects! As does this wall! [Credit: Ryolnir]

The knights player put his entire army into deep strike. The fists player, on the other hand was deployed a bit more defensively than my orks. If only I'd been so smart. He ended up going first, and he immediately popped the stompa. Its work done, the astraeus returned with full honors to its cabinet, where it would do me no further harm, since it was obviously going to be a really short game if it had stayed on the table.

However, this caused some follow-on effects for both of us. Because he'd hidden his stuff, he didn't have angle with a lot of his stuff turn one. On the other hand, I couldn't get anything into charge range that turn, and most of my shooting couldn't target his stuff either. I managed to take out an assault intercessor squad, but that was pretty much it. My partner's maulerfiend was stuck in the back of a bad traffic jam with my warbikers. This meant turn one was spent mostly untangling this while his units got into firing position. 

 He did have a good firing line on one of my units: The trukk I'd hidden to the side of the stompa, sadly only mostly out of line of sight. It was popped, and I lost one of my trukkboy meganobz on the disembark.

Da Real Treasure Was the Dakka We Found Along Da Way. [Credit: Ryolnir]

I was able to get a couple of buggies into line of sight with his melee infantry, however, and I was able to take out one unit of assault intercessors with my snazzwagon and boostablasta. Meanwhile, my two deffdreads were trundling forward to get their claws on something tasty. At the far side of the board you can see my meganobz trying to get into cover until they could make their way to a scrap.

Bullets! My only weakness!  [Credit: Ryolnir]

The grey knights teleported in, taking the fight to me at the midpoint on the board. Meanwhile, the crimson fists player moved his units forward out of hiding and began taking things down. The buggies folded quickly under some shooting from his speeder and aggressors.

On the other side of the board, the meganobz wilted under the knights' shooting and smites. Ghaz lost four wounds to the psychic onslaught.

Yo yo yo! It’s Grandmaster Dreadknight, and I’m here to rap about how the Emperor saves, novitiates!

However, now it was time for waaaagh! A bit of shooting took out a few of the vanvets, and then the deff dreads ran up and gave the last three a nice hug, turning them into crimson smears.

Where did da humies go, George?

Ghaz, the bikeboss, and the bikers all charged in at the dreadknights. The weirdboy cast fists of gork on the bikeboss, making him right killy.

Hit ‘im in da face! Den hit ‘im in da face harder!

It turns out that seven killa klaw attacks at S14, with extra attacks for each of the originals that doesn't do damage, is a lot. The grandmaster was a deadknight instead of a dreadknight. That robbed the bikers of any attacks, since he was their charge target. But fortunately, Ghaz got full attacks on the other dreadnight. ...Of which two went through, and were both saved against. Some days you get the waaagh, some days the waaagh gets you.

On their turn, the grey knights smote the crap out of the bikeboss and the warbikers, getting them mostly dead and finishing them off in the shooting and fight phases. Ghaz ended up hanging on with a single wound.

Last Ghazp

The Crimson Fist player wasn't idle during this time. He took out the dakkajet with some long distance shooting, then went ahead and removed the two deff dreads, one scrapjet, my squigbuggy, and several boyz. That left me with a grand total of one scrapjet, twenty-odd boyz in two squads, my weirdboy, and Ghaz holding on by a single wound when my third turn came up.

Orks don’t panic. The sweating and twitching is just anticipation of a good waaagh, is all. No one is fleeing, we’re just looking for a better scrap, is all.  [Credit: Ryolnir]

But that was when my allies, the alpha legion, showed up! So secretly, in fact, that no photographic evidence for their arrival can be found. Yeah, none of my pictures from that part of the game came out well. Ultimately, his obliterators and terminators managed to take out the crimson first redemptor. My weirdboy managed to kill the grey knights chaplain, but the surviving justicar of his strike squad was able to deal a fatal wound to Ghaz, finally toppling the Prophet of the Waaagh.

We basically called it there. The grey knights player had to go, so the crimson fist player did his last turn of shooting to see if we'd have even stood a chance. The surviving scrapjet took a surprisingly long time to die, given it started the round with only five wounds left. But when it died, it exploded, and thanks to the careen stratagem, it was able to leave its mark.

Enjoy your mortal wounds, suckers!

Ultimately, it's a little hard for me to analyze the battle too fully. The abortive superheavy duel skewed deployment pretty heavily. It probably saved me a bit of shooting in the first round, but it also meant that I wasn't able to any shooting off my first turn either. Going second definitely hurt me, since it meant the trukkboyz meganobz weren't able to get their full value (though they absorbed a lot of firepower before they died, which probably saved some other units). The maulerfiend never got past the traffic jam until turn three, and the other units he had were too far back to be able to shoot or get into melee. 

That left me pretty much high and dry turn two, looking down the barrel at 3000 points without any backup. By the time he popped in on our turn three, I was down to about 650 points, 300 of which belonged to one-wound Ghaz. Even if he’d popped off, it’s unlikely we would have been able to claw our way back out of that deficit. If we’d gone first, waiting until turn three wouldn’t have hurt quite as bad, but as it was, that was two full rounds where I was effectively 1000 points behind the enemy.

In the future, I’ll probably ask that my partners not go quite that crazy on deep strike shenanigans, or at least come in a bit sooner. 

All that being said, I had a ton of fun, and it was great finally getting my boyz on the table. I did learn a lot about pitfalls in setting up, how variable some of my units can be, and how to move things fast. I also learned some organization issues, and I'll know how to handle them better. In the future, rather than showing with a stack of double-sided buttscribe sheets, I'll have them singlesided in a binder, so I can flip through them quickly and know where things are.

On the ruined battlefield, the shattered armor of the once-mighty stompa were scattered and blasted. The remains of orks and traitor marines decorated the landscape. The adeptus astartes were the only ones who survived to recover their dead.

And yet, under the hot sun, some of the debris stirred. A massive ceramite plate was thrown aside, and the massive power weapon known as Gork’s Klaw emerged from the wreckage.

[deepwaterwritingprompts]

ooh ask day! are you working on any of your own writing at the moment? what excites you about it? is your writing similar to your prompts in any way? or do the prompts fulfill something else for you?

mainly im working on getting my first novel published, which you can read about HERE. otherwise, the sequel, an adult fiction project, and an urban fantasy type YA about a town called florida. in florida. Florida, florida.

Florida project, working title BORDERLINE, is the most in line with my general prompt vibe here. a little cosmic horror, bent reality, just generally odd.

I never write stuff based off the prompts, but I DO write prompts based off my own stuff, very occasionally. for me, writing prompts is like scales for a musician. keeps my brain well oiled.

*still taking asks, no requests please*

anyway, ive been working on Florida project a lot lately. have an excerpt:

Backpage:

Lin O’Leary was born and raised in the town of Florida, Florida, tucked away into a corner of the state’s forgotten coast. All the locals know Florida is a strange place, rumored to stand on a borderline, where the veil is thin and mysterious forces wander alongside the human population. The daughter of Irish and Mexican immigrants, Lin knows you can only find trouble if you go looking for it, and like the rest of Florida’s residents, lives comfortably alongside the supernatural. This is before Momoko Kasahara disappears into thin air, frightening the town of Florida into a new, ultra-cautious existence. Five years after Momo’s disappearance, Lin is seventeen, a highschool dropout now working at a convenience store, her once vibrant town still plagued by fear. The days drag by, mundane as they come in Florida, occasionally punctuated by unpleasant visits from Bo Kasahara, brother to Momo and full time asshole. Then, one fateful late shift, Lin sees the missing Kasahara twin standing in the aisles, gone as quickly as she appeared. Meanwhile, a stranger arrives from California, claiming to be a paranormal investigator hellbent on uncovering the mysteries of Florida, and suddenly Lin is faced with a choice. Be smart and keep her head down, or dive headlong into the strange mist that so often covers Florida, to rescue Momo Kasahara, and return her town to the way she remembers it.

1. 100% humidity feels like breathing underwater.

L I N

Florida ate Momoko Kasahara on the most miserable day of the year, and washed her down with a thunderstorm. A lot of other important things happened that day, but Momo’s disappearance overshadowed them all. Momo was the coolest girl in our class. She had shiny black hair that ran down to her waist. She liked to wear a different flavor of lip gloss every day of the week, and could sing in Japanese. I was on my way home from the beach when I saw the police cars in her driveway, and her twin brother sitting on the porch, painted purple in the twilight. 

He shook his head, at me, slow, and all the sound seemed to drain out of the world. The flashing police lights distorted his face, as bright white clouds passed too quickly above us. The whole scene drove a stake of wrongness hard into my chest. Sometimes even now, I dream about it. Bo and I watching each other. The dead silence. The purple light. The too white clouds. And Momo, eaten.  For the first time in my life, I was afraid of my own town. 

My name is Lin O’leary. I live in Florida, Florida, a nothing sort of place crammed into an extra forgotten corner of the state’s already forgotten coast. Some days I can forget about Momo, and everything that happened in the hours before she vanished. Heff says I’m good at keeping my eyes closed, even when they’re open. 

I really wish he were right. 

2. Cloudy with a chance of hotdogs (haunted).

J U L I E N

I was standing in front of the worst building I had ever seen. Slab grey and full of sharp edges, additions had been slapped onto every side until it resembled an impossible puzzle piece. The front windows were crowded with signs for cold beer and hot food, but the glass itself was opaque. It was a convenience store from hell, a collection of stationary parts so nonsensical I was worried it might grow a few new alcoves if I blinked. Above the door, an unintelligible sign in complicated neon cursive flashed electric blue. There was a neon clock too, flickering wildly, just striking twelve.

I must have walked halfway across town, and as far I could tell this was the only place that sold food at all, let alone past three in the morning. Still, I couldn’t bring myself to go inside. My stomach was a mess, and haunted convenience store hot dogs could only make it worse. I fished my phone out of my pocket, but the little service I had was, like the midnight clock above me, barely clinging to existence, my map application nothing more than a collection of beige squares. There was no one around. The sky was intensely dark, a pitch black blanket of clouds. Water hung thick in the air, the night time street so quiet I could almost hear beads of sweat sliding down my already slick face. No, there was nothing for it. I needed directions. 

The bell above the door made a strange, flat sound as I pressed inside. If the building was weird from the outside, that was nothing to its interior. The shelves, tall and numerous, had been arranged like maze walls. The overhead lights were blinding, stark white, and every other tile on the floor was mismatched. Some were squares of carpet. The only thing really visible from the entrance was the register, a fortress made of dark wood and surrounded by lottery advertisements. Behind the counter, a girl was reading something intently. As I got closer, I saw it was the back of a box of oatmeal.

“Hi,” I said, adjusting the duffel bag that had been crushing my left shoulder for an hour. 

The girl nodded, but didn’t look up. She had thin black hair, pin straight and chin length. Her skin was a warm, golden brown. Her shirt said something in miniscule writing, but my glasses were a little foggy, so I would have had to practically press my face to her chest to read it, which didn’t seem like a great first impression.

“Can you help me? I’m looking for the Fahrenheit Motel. I think it’s supposed to be around here.” 

Finally, she glanced at me. 

“It’s just around the corner. See the glasses store across the street? Go straight past that and make the second left, you’ll run right into it.” 

She pointed out the window, and I realized they were one way. 

“Who built this place?” I asked. 

She shrugged. 

“We’ve had a lot of owners. Everyone adds something new.”

There was something off about her. Like we were talking, but mentally she was still 

reading the box of oatmeal. 

“I’m Julien,” I said, sticking out a hand. She raised her eyebrows before taking it. 

“Lin,” she said, with another small nod. 

Her face was round, but her features were knife sharp. I wondered what she looked like angry. Maybe that was a really weird thing to think. 

Not wanting to ask for a second set of directions, I wandered around the store for thirty minutes before returning to the counter with a gallon of chocolate milk and a bag of seaweed flavored potato chips. 

“I can’t believe you have these. I didn’t think you could find them outside of California.”

Instead of replying, Lin held up the chocolate milk. 

“There’s no fridge in your room at the Fahrenheit. You know that right?”

“I was told on the phone… ” I started.

“There’s a fridge, but it’s in the lobby, communal. Kimmy’ll drink this.” She gave the milk a little shake before scanning it. “Just warning you.”

“Thanks,” I said, as she stuffed my things in a smiling shopping bag. 

I paused on my way out.

“Goodnight,” I said, “Or, good morning I guess.” 

Lin stared at me, then glanced at the box of oatmeal and back. 

“Morning,” she said, with a sigh.

***

I followed Lin’s directions, and wound up at last in front of a long, low building sporting a vacancies sign. Even in low light I could see about a hundred sad looking plastic flamingos had been stuck all over the lawn, the bushes, even the gravel path that led to the front door. I had to pick my way around them on approach. 

There was no one at the front desk. The reception area was lit only by the green blue light coming from an enormous fishtank that didn’t seem to have any fish in it. As I approached the counter, I noticed someone had left the key to my room out for me, next to a scrap of paper bearing the wifi password. I picked up the key, old and brass, then watched the fishtank for a second, before turning around and experiencing heart failure. 

A very old woman with wiry black hair was standing there in her nightgown, arms crossed and frowning at me. She didn’t apologize for nearly sending me to my grave. 

“I’m up. I can check you in properly,” she said, shuffling past me. “I’m Kimmy, but you can call me Miss Kimmy. You got ID?” 

I dug it out of my wallet while she opened a dusty guest book. 

“The reservation is for Julien True,” I said. 

Miss Kimmy glanced at the ID I had just handed her. 

“That’s not what this says.”

“I know. It’s a stage name,” I admitted, “everything else is correct.”

She raised an eyebrow to herself, but didn’t ask any more questions. 

“Now listen,” she said finally, shutting the guest book with a snap. “I’ll be honest, there’s not much to do around here. There’s a bus runs to the state forest during the day, and the beach isn’t going anywhere. If you’re hungry that’s too bad for the most part, unless you feel like walking down to Morton’s.”

“Is that the weird looking building? One way windows?”

“That’s the one. Midnight Morton’s, never closes. This late at night you’ve got Lin at the counter, nice girl.” 

I don’t know what I would have called Lin, but it probably wasn’t ‘nice girl’.

“Thanks,” I said, glancing around for the hallway that led to my room.

I bid Miss Kimmy goodnight and lugged my things to Room 7, at the very end of the dark hall. Inside was simple, but stunningly clean, which I had in no way expected. The bed had a sunken spot in the middle, and there were a lot of paintings of tropical fish on the walls. Home sweet home. I changed into pajamas, and took a huge swig of chocolate milk before glancing at my duffel, still full of equipment. 

It could wait. I was exhausted, sweaty, and more alone than I had ever been in my entire life. 

3. Welcome to my grocery store how may I assist you.

L I N

“I want to drop out of high school,” said Roach. 

We were sprawled out on separate tartan sofas, both angled towards the ancient television. It was after midnight, and the only light in the room was coming from the nature channel.

“No you don’t,” I said. “You’re not even in high school.”

Roach was a weird little girl. Eleven years old, she wore oversized thrift store t-shirts, and big chunky glasses, and cut her own hair. I loved her the most in this world.

“Yeah, but when I get there, I want to drop out. You did.”

I sighed. 

“You’re smarter than me. You have to finish school and work in a laboratory anywhere but here. Those are the rules.” 

Roach crossed and uncrossed her skinny legs without arguing. I knew she just wanted to hear me say she was smart. 

We continued to watch the nature channel in silence. A documentary on the arctic ocean was playing, which I found devastatingly boring, but Roach was clearly glued to. I could hear dad snoring upstairs, a pleasant sort of nightly white noise, and tuned out completely until Roach clapped an inch from my face. 

“Jeez,” I started, pushing her hands away.

“You were way out there. It’s freaky.”

I had been practicing my zone out since I was Roach’s age. On my best day, I could have an entire conversation without hearing one word the other person said. Call it a life skill.

“You’re doing it again!” said Roach. “Don’t you have work soon?” 

That snapped me out of it. I looked at my watch. 

“Oh, yeah. Thank you.” 

I rolled off the couch as Roach sat back down with a huff. The arctic documentary was ending, and she picked up the changer to scroll through a long list of similar recordings. Roach loved animals, all of them, even fish that ate your insides, and grubs, and parasitic worms. Especially parasitic worms. 

“Don’t stay up too late okay?” I said, tugging gently on her massive ponytail. Roach got dad’s curly, reddish brown hair. I got mom’s.

“Mmhm.”

I glanced in the hall mirror to see if there was any food on my shirt. Then I stepped into the mosquito ridden, muggy Florida night, and headed to my shift.

***

You might be thinking: where does a seventeen year old high school dropout work after midnight? And the thrilling answer is: the grocery store, sort of.

You might be thinking: what? 

But that’s Morton’s. 

The sliding doors opened smoothly for me upon arrival, which was always a good omen. I straightened the newsstand and went to look for Barry.

My manager, a small, Dominican man who loved to party, was in the produce section with a woman I assumed was his latest girlfriend. He was chucking the moldiest vegetables into an open trashcan.

“Our fresh produce is a travesty,” I said. “When was the last time someone bought an eggplant here?”

“I’m thinking of moving the veg,” said Barry, “they don’t like the energy in this corner.”

Barry was constantly moving things around the small labyrinth that was Morton’s. At least once a month he would take an hour long stroll from shelf to shelf, while I wrote down what was going where. I made a new map of the store for every big move.

“What are you guys up to tonight?” I asked, as Barry followed me to the register, bag of moldy vegetables in hand.

“Dancing,” said his date, with an endearing round of jazz hands, as Barry broke into a stationary samba while he gave me a list of stuff to work on. He treated me to his own enthusiastic jazz hands, and a few notes of a Juan Luis Guerra song as he samba’d in the direction of the door. As it swung shut behind them, I let the intense silence of Morton's wash over me. The fluorescent lights hummed gently. The food sat well behaved in slightly crooked rows. I turned my brain down to its lowest setting, and consulted my list.

...

[thethousandyearwitch]

The Show Must Go On! Chapter 4

- A Youtuber AU you didn’t want and didn’t need -

Hisoka Morrow, italian Makeup Youtuber, enjoys his life in the comfort and occasional drama of his profession. But nothing brings more drama into his life than the eldest son of the Zoldyck fashion magazine empire.

Meanwhile, aspiring australian Twitch Streamer Gon Freecs forms a special bond to a Speedrunner commonly going by "Kil".

Chapter 4 “Shifting Sand Land” out now!

AO3 Link

Illumi had always feared that one day he might inherit any of his mother's illnesses. It wasn't out of the question, and he considered himself lucky that no ailment had reared its head so far into his life.

"Do I look as good as how I feel, darling?"

Until now.

Suddenly it felt like years of sickness had caught up with him, spun his head around and made his stomach curl.

It was a coincidence that this sickness would appear the second he laid eyes on Hisoka, wearing the suit that was fitted just for him.

It was a coincidence that he looked like all those marble statues in museums, sculpted in the image of gods and lovers.

It was a coincidence that this sickness could be swallowed and repressed like any measly feeling he had ever encountered.

"I told you to wear a shirt, maggot."

And the symptoms disappeared.

But the disease didn't.

 ----------------------------------------------------

Gon: Killua?

It had been quite a while since Killua had responded to any of Gons messages. Well, it had been about 2 hours. But compared to their normal pace of slinging messages at each other any passing minute, this felt like an eternity to the young boy.  He wondered if he had done anything to upset his friend, though their last conversation was just usual banter about breakfast, snacks, and the new battle pass.

He fidgeted in his seat a bit more, the classwork Aunt Mito had supplied him with almost entirely forgotten. The now broken routine made his bones itch, but the attempt of any distraction just made him fear he'd miss when Killua would finally come back.

So, he waited.

He even started half-heartedly filling out the math quiz that had been taunting him from the corner of the desk, though he always glanced back at the computer screen.

Question number 27: (X-3)²-25= 0

Ping

Gon wasn't sure what to do first; Be thankful that finally Killua replied or be thankful that he found an escape from this hell called math.

Kil: Yo.

GON: Hey!!! Are you okay? :O

Kil: Yeah, whats up?

He was obviously not okay. But Gon knew that pressing the issue wouldn’t make things better, though if he pretended like everything was alright would just be an issue bottled up.

GON: Do you wanna play some Fortnite Duos maybe? We can try grinding for the new tiger costume you like :D

Kil: cant

Kil: my mom took my fucking PC away in attempt to become mother of the year

GON: :( im sorry!! But im sure she’ll give it back soon, right?

Kil: fat chance, I probably have to wait till my brother comes back from his stupid trip

Gon tilted his head in thought. This has probably been the longest Killua had ever talked about his family with him. Up to this point it had only been passing remarks about siblings whose actions and personalities melted into each other due to lack of discernible unique traits, and that his family was rich.

GON: How long is that going to be?

GON: Maybe your mom will calm down and change her mind <:(

Kil: lmao, maybe if id actually study now shed be satisfied enough

Kil: but theres no way in hell im going to give her what she wants

Kil: ESPECIALLY NOW

GON: So whatre you going to do??

Kil: idk

Kil: talk to you and think about how to set fire to this place?

 The young boy smiled, though for some reason he could feel a knot tighten in his chest.

 GON: How about only talking to me for now?

 And they talked. For a couple of hours, they talked about Gons new streaming schedule, about how he wanted to have one dedicated day in the week solely for collaborations. They talked about a new exploit for Super Mario Sunshine that could potentially scrap 10 seconds off of the current World record if executed correctly. They talked about how Leorios medical-student VLOG channel had been trending again after he made a hypocritical video about the damages of energy drinks.

Kil: he could have at least cleaned the infamous pyramid out of frame…

GON: Haha he said that in hindsight too

GON: But I think it was his boyfriend who finally made him clean it up -v-“

Kil: must be nice to have someone living with you who gives a shit

Kil: I think at this point the housekeeper hasn’t even touched the minefield that’s my brothers room in months

GON: It can’t be that bad :”D

Kil: you bet?

Kil: what do you think, how much chip dust is needed for an anime figure to come to life?

The mental image of Killuas home slowly shifted in Gons mind again. A large mansion, bedrooms as big as some apartments, with individual housekeepers for everyone. And one room dedicated to imitating a postapocalyptic anime merch shop.

And somewhere in that large mansion, is a room probably equipped with a messy bed, a (now empty) desk and gaming chair, maybe some shelves with books and games. In the middle of it a slightly blurry figure, maybe a bit shorter than Gon, pale skin and messy hair and piercing bright eyes.

He had seen pictures of Killua, a handful of selfies taken at his desk, one picture his sister (who he’d mention the least from his mysterious family) had taken of him in front of a rose bush. And no matter how dimly lit the picture would be, or out of focus, or taken from a distance; His eyes were always the first thing Gon would focus on. At first, he was convinced that he was using a filter, there’s no way someone in real life would have eyes like that.

But Killua did. Killua hid electricity behind those eyes, dangerous and yet enticing, beaming with a life energy that can barely be contained. Gon had heard poems and songs about blue eyes, though none of them ever came close to describing eyes like these. Or the feeling Gon would get from looking at them, tingling in his fingertips, making him smile and giggle and stomp his feet. Kind of like getting a victory royale.

Gon has other friends besides Killua. But none ever made him feel the same way when they talked. He craved no one’s presence as much as he craved Killuas. And something inside him felt the constant urge to tell Killua that, to tell him how much he meant to him, what’s so amazing about him, how he didn’t want this friendship to end.

But that’s just not something friends would tell each other unprompted, and it’s not something that could easily told to Killua, who danced around the word “friends” as if it were a dangerous animal. So, he didn’t say anything.

 Kil: gon?

Kil: did you fall asleep?

GON: No haha, I was just thinking about how huge your house must be!!

Kil: yeah its huge and ugly, sometimes way too loud, sometimes really fucking quiet

Kil: im sure it must be nicer in your home

GON: I mean, it is pretty nice, but its also a little lonely I think

GON: All my friends live closer to the city, so usually no one is around to just come outside and hang out :^T

Kil: if I could id fly over right now and you could show me all the gross spiders that rule your continent with 8 iron fists

GON: They aren’t gross!! Spiders are really fun once you get to know them :^D

GON: And you know, you’d always be welcome here, Aunt Mito would be thrilled to meet you ^^

And Gon meant it. Though Killua never let too much slip of his family life and surroundings, Gon could tell it was trouble, and he deeply wished he could give Killua even just a one-day break from whatever went down in that mansion.

Kil: since we are both home schooled, we wouldnt even need to wait for summer break or anything

GON: Right :^D And its not like either of us are big on studying either ^^”

Gon glanced briefly at the disregarded Math work and shuddered.

Kil: you mean it, right?

Kil: if I were to text you some time that im at an airport and im coming over, you wouldnt let me be stranded somewhere on your prison continent, right?

GON: Of course not!!!

GON: … but I’d prefer it if you give a heads up so I can clean my room :^D

Kil: thanks gon, I appreciate it

Kil: i appreciate you

Gon felt his heartrate skyrocket. Of course he’d let Killua stay, even if he rang at his door without any prior notice. Because even if it goes unsaid, Killua was his friend. Maybe even his best friend. And he’d do anything to keep him safe, or to just give him one minute that he doesn’t have to think about his family. He wanted to see those blue eyes reflect the Australian sun, free of worry and tension.

GON: I appreciate you, too

[a-table-of-fics]

Oddworld: Conar's Ambition, Chapter 4, Draft 1

In the meantime, he puffed on his Lungbuster some more, thinking about what they could do next. Once they were all in the scrapyard, and found a secure spot, that’d be a good time to see about that map Mark probably had. From there, he could hopefully find out where Zeb’s offices were, and from there he and Slim could take him down, and Conar could finally have a fortune of his own.

His happy daydreams were interrupted when he heard another vehicle come rumbling down the road, and the sound of screeching metal against concrete. He leaned to look past the wall, and he had to cover his earholes as he saw an ugly yellow truck coming to the garage, sparks flying behind it as it carelessly dragged an enormous three-pronged hook behind it on a thick metal cable. He leapt back, afraid the tow cable might swing his way and obliterate him. Thankfully, it was nowhere close, and the truck was slowing to turn into the parking space anyway.

A Slig wearing a work vest came out, putting a well-worn yellow cap onto his head. He slammed a fist on the bed of the truck, and three Scrubs sat up groaning, and climbed out of the back.

Conar turned to the sleeping Mudokons, and was quick to tap them both with his Blunderbuss. They stirred, slowly standing back up. Just in time, too; the Slig had looked their way. He nodded before walking over to the passenger side. The door opened, and Conar heard the tell-tale sound of a Glukkon’s cheap dress shoes rapidly clattering. He was smoking an even cheaper cigar, and oil-stained suspenders over a hideously yellow plaid shirt. He sneered as he looked over at Conar and the Mudokons under his care, but his face softened as he saw the cab they came in with.

He hummed, running a few mental tallies.

“Quite a wreck,” he finally said. “Almost wish I’d seen the accident!”

He laughed, and if there was one thing any Slig learned quickly, it’s that a Glukkon’s laughter is contagious… or else. The Mudokons had no such obligation; while Slim and Mark were trying to keep their heads down, the three Scrubs in yellow loincloths just unloaded the truck of its six toolboxes. They politely waited by the door, struggling to stand up under the weight they were carrying.

“I take it you’re Clunk?” Conar asked.

“You ain’t as stupid as you look,” the Gluk snorted. “Why do ya ask?”

“Your guard over there says we need a ticket from you to get this scrap into the yard.”

Clunk turned around, seeing a wide-awake Slig waving his way from his booth, his magazine hidden from view.

“He’s right, you will need one. We gotta make sure we can’t fix it first.”

Meanwhile, his assistant Slig was watching the overly encumbered Mudokons. He was taking great pleasure in slowly opening the doors, at a couple of points even “accidentally” letting the doors fall a little, chuckling as the Scrubs groaned. Finally, he let them in, and they were able to set their equipment on the workbench.

“Right,” Conar nodded. “So when can we get started, sir? I’m already running late…”

“250 Moolah,” the Glukkon replied, simply. “We also gotta get your name and everything for our records. If we start going a little late, maybe I can let your boss now. Who knows?”

He leaned forward, enough to breathe smoke into Conar’s face.

“He might be feeling lenient and just dock your pay.”

He chuckled to himself, while Conar reached into his bag. Having only around 1400 Moolah to his name, this was quite a bit, but what choice did he have?

The other Slig happily accepted his payment, and turned towards his workforce.

“All right, get ‘er in so we can take a look!”

Conar and company watched as the cab was taken in, and followed when Clunk beckoned them in. They were directed to a lobby that had two very greasy chairs in it, as well as half another chair that was haphazardly lying against the wall. Clunk moved behind the front desk, where his assistant was waiting.

“So, you got an ID, ‘valued’ customer?”

“39872-A,” Conar said, automatically.

“Right. Place of employment?”

“Slog Hut 1884.”

“Quite a ways from here. What happened?”

“Got caught in some crossfire around home, sir.”

Clunk nodded.

“Right, we’ll see what we can do. You have a seat.”

Conar nodded, keeping the seat on his Pants rather than anything he could actually feel. The Mudokons, after one glare from the owner, shared the half-seat, keeping their feet splayed so they didn’t tip it over.

Clunk chuckled at the sight, and so Conar did too.

“Which of these chumps was the driver?”

Mark shrunk a bit, knowing what was going to come next, but before anyone else, Slim piped up.

“I was driving, sir.”

Mark was about to say something, but Slim’s elbow made a point against that. Clunk looked, and nodded.

“Brave Mud to admit that,” he said, turning back to Conar. “Make sure to get his license. Should have a number you can call on this phone here. They’ll take care of ‘im for losing company property, I hope.”

With that, he waddled over through the doorway, to the noises of metal clanging and tools hissing and whirring.

As soon as he was gone, Slim looked at the shaken Mark, then turned to Conar.

“Can you… can you pretend to call?”

“You ain’t tellin’ me what to do!” Conar replied. “I gotta call, that’s what he said…”

Slim’s look said it all, but he added “You want everyone to know where we are?”

“…Yeah, why don’t I just… not call, then?”

“Clunk’s probably gonna pop in at any moment. You really want to blow your cover here?”

Conar thought about it for a moment, then nodded. He’d have to ask about how Slim knew about this kind of thing later, but for now, he had a “call” to make to the taxi company. He stood up, holding a hand out expectantly. Mark looked at it for a moment, then sighed and produced a card from a pouch on his loincloth.

Conar snatched it and took a look. So he was supposed to call the Durtminch Taxi Service, but he punched random keys on the phone in rapid succession. He got a busy signal, but he pressed on.

“Yeah, hi… I wanted to report a Mud who drove through a gunfight…Yeah…We’re at Clunk’s… His name’s Mark…”

Clunk walked back in, watching while Conar finished his conversation.

“…ID, uh, 5928-22555…And this was 39872-A… Yeah, thanks.”

He looked up at the Glukkon.

“They said they’d discipline correctly.”

“Good,” Clunk nodded. “It’s important that they… learn. Anyway, we got some fixes underway. It’ll be ten minutes, but if it still don’t work, we’ll take it off your hands and getcha a ride.”

“Gotcha,” Conar nodded, walking back to take a seat.

Unfortunately, Clunk was staying at the desk, watching a monitor. No chance of using this time to rest, then; despite Conar’s reason for being late, he could still get reported for sleeping during work hours. Being late to the Slog Hut was one thing, but using this as an excuse to sleep was a one-way path to being detained until a co-worker could arrive and perform disciplinary action. Talking to the Mudokons was out of the question, too. No Glukkon liked seeing security being buddy-buddy with the workforce. So, he waited, listening to the sounds of mechanics hollering and metal clanging for ten minutes until, finally, the other Slig came back into the lobby.

“W-well,” he said, uneasily, “Got as fixed as we could, boss.”

The three Scrub mechanics walked in, covered in considerably more oil, soot, and burn marks than the Slig was.

“Well,” Clunk smiled, “Why don’t you have your driver friend there get the thing started, and we’ll see you off?”

Slim felt many eyes on him, and he slowly stood up. Mark followed suit, letting their half-chair slide and collapse onto the floor. He and Slim scrambled to get that back onto the wall, and then moved to follow the other Slig, with Conar following after.

He swallowed, climbing into the driver’s seat while Mark and Conar made it into the backseat.

“Hold up,” the head mechanic asked, raising a hand, “What’s the deal with the other Scrub?”

“You know better than to ask questions like that!” Clunk scolded, causing his Slig to wince. “It’s like you know nothing about keeping customers!”

He coughed, nearly dropping his cigar.

“Right then,” he continued, turning his attention to Conar through the window, “Explain why you’re commutin’ with a Mudokon!”

“Ah, y’see, er…”

“’M a student,” Slim meekly offered. “Y’see, he’s my instructor, isn’t that right, ‘Slim’?”

“I—” Mark started, before having his toe pressed by Conar’s metal foot. “Y-yeah, I am. L-lemme give ya a… refresher on how t’start this thing… yeah…”

He reached over, adjusting the levers to get the thing started. A rumble and whining noise, but nothing happened.

“Try again,” Clunk said.

“O-okay,” Mark nodded, having another go. Same result.

“Oy,” Clunk muttered, shaking his head. “All right, my boys’ll ger this into the scrapyard and we’ll getcha a new ride.”

“Actually,” Conar piped up. “I got two perfectly good Scrubs here. Betcha they could do with a bit of exercise, y’know what I’m saying?”

“Not gonna happen,” Clunk laughed. “Can’t have your Muds diving under a hunk of metal and escapin’, can we?”

“No sir,” Conar said, nodding a little too hastily. “Can’t have ‘em fleeing.”

He lifted his gun up meaningfully.

“I’m sure Tess and I could keep an eye on ‘em, though… heh heh…”

Clunk looked at him, and laughed.

“Ah, you really wanna teach ‘em a lesson, huh? Can’t blame ya for that; even a Mudokon should know not to drive into a firefight.”

He turned to his assistant.

“You focus on keeping our boys in line. Let our friend here take care of scrappin’ that piece of crap.”

“Er, all right, sir…”

It was hard to see with his own visor and the other Slig’s pilot-like goggles, but Conar could swear he was getting a side-eye from the guy as he turned to gather his mechanics.

Conar, for his part, simply shrugged, grabbing a ticket as it printed before giving a somewhat forceful jab to Slim’s back with the barrel of his gun.

“Get movin’, you two! I wanna see that cab in the scrap heap, and I wanna see it there now!”

He gave a bit of a chuckle to keep appearances, and the three of them moved the cab out. Well, Slim and Mark did, while Conar kept pace behind them, cradling “Tess” in his arms, still keeping it quite visible in the tried-and-true “Slig At Work” pose.

“Some escape,” Slim muttered under his breath. “Make me wish I was back shoveling Slog poo.”

“Wait, we’re escapin’?” Mark asked, perking up. “I can quit driving Sligs around? No more chokin’ on smoke?”

Before Mark could get too excited, though, he had to flinch as two shots rang out from behind him. Both he and Slim immediately put their hands over their heads, resting their faces onto the car’s trunk. They were just able to turn their heads enough to see Conar looking at them, his smoking gun pointed straight up in the air.

“Enough yapping!” he barked. “You’re slowin’ down when you do that!”

Mark was shaking a little, but Slim just sighed before beginning to push the cab again. On the plus side, the guard had woken up from that, and was already watching them pull up. Conar was already waving the ticket up for him, so he pulled the lever on the left of the control panel.

The three of them watched as the gate shook, groaning and creaking as it dragged along the ground. In the twenty-two seconds it took for it to open, Slim and Mark were able to take a breather, which they gratefully took. They almost didn’t notice when Conar shouted for them to start pushing again, but self-preservation kicked in regardless, and the cab was shoved through the gate again.

It soon became clear that they were not moving past multiple piles of discarded metal, but instead walking on one enormous heap. There was enough rust to pass as dirt if you weren’t walking on it, and they could hear metal creak not just under their feet, but everywhere. In the distance, a stack collapsed onto itself. A crane with an enormous magnet lifted junk into a new pile, and a bulldozer shoved more onto it.

As Conar looked around, the two Mudokons took note of the red eyes floating around. They didn’t seem to be taking any interest in the trio, instead panning over the various machines.

“Now, let’s get this thing outta the way,” Conar said. “I think I see some room over there.”

He gestured over to a place between an old FeeCo train car and a pile of refrigerators. It was a tight fit, but nothing a bit of elbow grease and Slig threats couldn’t take care of.

“Right,” Conar said, “We should find a place to lay low, then. We can figure things out from there.”

He looked either way, and found the door was taken off the train car. That was as good an option as any to look, but Slim put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him from going into it.

“There’s a hideout in the fridges already,” he said. “Might wanna check that first.”

Conar paused to look at the pile on the other side, but outside of various graffiti tags, he didn’t see anything of interest. Besides, the train car was right here.

“I don’t know what you’re tryin’,” he said, pulling his shoulder away from the Mudokon, “but if you think you can pull one over me, you’ve got another thing coming!”

“I’m not—”

“Get in the train!” Conar shouted. “That’s an order!”

“Fine,” Slim sighed, clambering in. It was dark and cold down there, and the air had a metallic scent that was just powerful enough to be uncomfortable. Mark and Conar followed, landing next to him.

“It ain’t much,” Conar admitted, “but at least we should be hidden pretty well here.”

“I guess,” Slim shrugged, while Mark just nodded.

“It’s been a long night, so we oughta rest for a bit. We’ll work on getting started later.”

Conar watched as the Mudokons found a darker corner, huddling together for warmth. Despite the conditions, they found sleep far more easily than Conar did. The Expresso had long since lost its kick, but this was a far cry from the bed he was used to. What was worse, he was watching over recently-freed Scrubs. He could manage one, but what if the two were to gang up on him? Hell, Slim was already giving him orders! He was already getting a lot of nerve!