#mosh crew

[marcelinebass]

Yes I cut my hair but that doesn’t make me any less alt/emo or punk, I’ll still fuck you up in that pit bitch!i!i! xd

[mugiwara-lucy]

I feel so inspirated 🥹

[illwynd]

went to a tyr show tonight and i feel oddly like it reset my brain. like the good, hard reset where you straighten a paperclip and stick the end in the little hole.

[notthewriteryourelookingfor]

Random idea:

Great British Bake Off but medieval times.

It's done in like the Globe theatre with the judges on the stage, little cooking areas set up in the most pit and the crouds in the stands.

You can't tell me that they wouldn't go for that back then.

Ye Olde cooking shows that are just live and you hear about what happened from someone who swear they were there or that they know someone who was there who told them.

They have to cook enough for everyone to have a lil bite as well and the judges getting a full serving.

[skylersolomonofficial]

The Hero Crew

(Logo)

The Hero Crew is an organization much like the Justice League or the Avengers where heroes group up together and save the world. There are several bases around the world, most of them in the USA as it is a USA founded company.

It runs off people's donations and a few of the members are rich by familial bonds or outside jobs, so they help pay for things. They run many charities and support their communities the best they can.

One of the rules that the group has is that every member has to announce their first name to the public. Last names are optional, but most people share them. To keep family and friends safe, The Hero Crew offers safe houses and protection for everyone.

The founder (Michael "Mikey" Smith) died and his son, Joshua Smith (Wave Crasher), took over. With Doctor Shoelace at his side, he expanded the group and helped as many people as he could.

When a member dies, a memorial is put up in their honor in the base that they lived in. A public statement is then made to let people know that the hero had passed away, but doesn't tell people how they died.

Vortex teams up with The Hero Crew in order to save the city from The Crown with the promise that he would not be joining the team after the defeat of The Crown.

Washington based Members:

Wave Crasher

Doctor Shoelace

The Examiner

Mother Nature

Screamer

Joyful Night

Supernova

Smithy

Mind Bender

MG

Katya

Moshe

Nilo

Finder

[formulawolff]

"just one dance" - t.w.

pairing: horner's daughter!reader x toto wolff

word count: 1.9k

warnings: toto lusting after a woman thirty years younger than him (what's new on this blog lmfao), sexual references, maybe some cursing (idrk), mentions of drug use, alcohol use, flirting, banter, yadayadayada

a/n: i played "here" by alessia cara like 20x on repeat while writing this fic. so we could say that this fic is veryyyyy loosely inspired by that song. also! this was a request by an anon! i hope y'all enjoy! <3

"come on," the words as slurred as he rolls his eyes, "come dance with us!"

bringing your hand to your mouth, you stifle a giggle, "max, for the last time, i am not joining the horny middle school grind circle you guys have going on over there."

"it's not a grind circle," he puts his hands on his hips, "i would say it's more like a mosh pit."

which, given the occasion, was not quite appropriate either.

at the moment, you were perched at one of the many elegant banquet tables, the rigid surfaced draped with a thick, cream-colored tablecloth. adorning the table were numerous vases, filled to the brim with floral arrangements, their fragrance oh so sickeningly sweet.

the plates, utensils, and other various dining ware were now cleared, only leaving numerous wine glasses, their crystalline stems glimmering in the dim light, swathed by the golden hue of the chandeliers as they sparkle above.

this was the annual fia prize gala, one of the most coveted events of the season. it was the showcasing and peacocking of sheer and utter wealth, as the drivers got to pull up to in their luxury vehicles, their keys handed off to the valets. every individual was dressed head to toe in designer clothing from nearly every brand possible, from christian dior to saint laurent.

you lost track of the amount of rolex watches, cartier jewelry, and hermès bags you noticed throughout the course of the evening.

the main event wrapped up hours ago, leaving the rest of the night for the drivers, crew members, mechanics, engineers, executives, and team principals to mingle and dance. and well, consume copious amounts of alcohol.

and well, perhaps do a few lines in the restroom. or light a joint outside. maybe even pop a few pills.

with the exuberant amounts of cash involved with events like this, there were surely some illicit affairs. ones that the fia ignored, simply turning their heads.

if they didn't see it, it didn't happen.

after all, you were in monaco. it was like las vegas in a way.

what happened in monaco, stayed in monaco.

and here max verstappen was, three-time world champion, standing before you, so drunk he could barely walk, begging for you to come join him on the dance floor.

too bad your phone was almost dead.

this would have been a prime opportunity to record what was unfolding before you. it would have fed the max girlies all over instagram and tik tok for months.

glancing over max's shoulder, you pick out lando, oscar, charles, and carlos. they were apart of the large formation, jumping up and down, barreling into one another. alexandra, rebecca, and lily linger around the group, their gowns swishing as they laugh, their cheeks dusted with a bubblegum pink glow.

a drunken mosh pit with a bunch of sweaty men? no thank you.

but gossiping with the girls? that was more your speed.

"my dad would have a stroke if he caught me with you guys," you simply shrug, sipping on your wine, "and what if something happened to my dress? we have to return this, you know."

"ugh," the dutch driver groans, "you're no fun."

"hallo, max," a new voice cuts in, thick with an accent you can't quite place your finger on, "congratulations on your accomplishment this year!"

shifting in your chair is none other than torger christian wolff, better known as toto wolff, team prinicipal of mercedes.

your heart skips a beat as your eyes drink in the sight of him, the way his crisp tuxedo fit him effortlessly. his dark brunette hair was messy, more than likely from the events of the evening. his bowtie was untied, hanging loosely around his neck. the first few buttons of the snowy white dress shirt were undone, exposing his skin.

fuck, was he a gorgeous man.

with sharp cheekbones, a chiseled jawline, and wide, beautiful coffee brown eyes, he knew that he was attractive, his aura brimmed with nothing but sexiness and dominance.

his hands land on the chair beside you, pulling it out as max rambles, the words drowning out in your ears.

you were more focused on his stature as he sits to your right, his thighs spread in the chair, a hand running through his hair.

"is there a reason why i haven't seen you on the dance floor?"

due to the excessive volume of the music, his mouth hovers by your ear. a shiver runs down your spine as his eyes lock with yours, lips forming a radiant smile, flashing his perfect pearlescent teeth.

"cat got your tongue? or are you just as intoxicated as maxie boy over there?"

"neither," you counter, straightening in your chair, "just not really interested, that's all."

"did daddy not give his precious diamond any dance lessons growing up?"

your father was none other than christian horner, team principal of red bull racing, sworn enemy of toto wolff.

quickly, your eyes scan your surroundings, in an attempt to pick out your father among the throng of people. to your dismay, you cannot find him.

which, in this case, could be a good thing.

if he saw toto speaking to you? oh fuck. it would be game over. you'd probably be grounded at your big age of twenty-four years old. could parents even do that when you were an adult?

you didn't really want to find out.

yet, you couldn't turn down a few moments with the team principal.

after all, this was a once in a lifetime opportunity.

why not seize it?

for most of your life, you obeyed every single one of your father's wishes. you maintained your distance from the red bull drivers, careful not to get too close. you stayed out of the spotlight, ensuring that no negative publicity ever came his way. as much as you yearned to get to know members of the mercedes team or crew, you shied away, maintaining the promise that you would never befriend a rival.

so, for this one night, you could be a little selfish.

just this once.

even if it involved your father's biggest foe. the bane of his existence. the man he spoked about so bitterly for years on end.

"i was offered dance lessons, actually," your voice is melodic, like an angel's from the heavens above, "i turned them down. opted for horseback riding instead."

"so you know how to ride?" the team principal runs a tongue along his lower lip, his brow slightly raised, "well, i have an offer for you. one dance with me, and then later you can show me how well you can ride."

"and what am i going to be riding?" you inquire, folding your arms across your chest.

the corners of his lips curl into a devious smirk, an emotion glinting within the mocha depths as he leans in, "my cock."

heat flourishes into your cheeks, seeping all throughout your body. as your mind scrambles, struggling to formulate some sort of witty response, the team principal nods, "not expecting that, were you? i like seeing you like this, all flustered. it's cute."

"y-you're ridiculous," you manage to sputter out, hands instinctively shielding your face.

"not as ridiculous as any of those fools," his head motions towards the group of rambunctious drivers, "tell me, why aren't you with any of them? i'm sure maxie boy would love to take you on a date. lando too."

"just not interested," you shrug, regaining your confidence a tad, "don't get me wrong, they've asked. but i've always just turned them down."

toto cocks his head, his voice laced with a tease, "why? scared daddy is going to ground you for dating a driver?"

"i just rather wouldn't be involved with anyone of them romantically," you wave a hand, "it'd be too awkward if things didn't end up working out. could you imagine having to spend so much time at the paddock with someone who your dad could fire at any given moment? it'd be like walking on eggshells. i'd feel bad for any poor soul who wants to court me. they'd constantly be seeking my father's approval, on and off the track."

"well it's a good thing that i already know where i stand," toto shoots you a wink, your heart thudding against your rib-cage as he offers you his hand, "come on, just one dance. that's all i ask of you, gorgeous girl. one dance and then you can come right back over here, spending the rest of your night sulking in the corner."

"i haven't been sulking," you snort, accepting the gesture, "i've just been bored."

"how about you accept the other half of my offer then?" his accent is prominent, lingering in every word, "i've just been flirting, you don't really have to ride me. unless you know, you want to-"

"are you forgetting that we're in a very public space?" you hiss, elbow interlocked with his as you make your way to the dance floor, "people can probably hear you."

"good thing we're all drunk," he responds, the casual delivery sending you spiraling, "here, place your hand on my shoulder. i'll take this hand. the other will go on your waist."

as you follow his lead, you can't help but feel the pairs of eyes fixate on the two of you, murmurs rising above the music. yet, toto's focus is honed in on you, and only you.

"don't worry about them," he takes a step forward, your feet following in suit, "they're probably just envious that i'm with the most coveted woman in all of formula one."

"you don't mean that."

"oh schatzi," a chuckle rumbles in his chest, flowing from his lips, "do you not hear the things they say about you among the paddocks?"

"enlighten me then," your heart swells as his thumb tenderly kneads into your waist, fingers interlocking with yours.

his mouth is merely centimeters away from yours now, dimples apparent as his eyes glitter like the chandeliers above, "there's whispers that you are the most breathtaking woman in the world. the drivers talk about you all of the time, debating who would look the best by your side. you're a hot commodity. a prize to be won."

"people say those things about me?"

"would i ever lie to you?" toto arched a brow, "i have no reason to."

"that is true."

there's a twinge of resentment that bubbles up in your stomach as the song ends. oh how this moment ended too soon.

way too soon.

"still no sign of your father," toto's voice is hushed, barely audible over the music, "you think i could have you for just one more song? after that, i promise i'll leave you be."

"i think so," you feel a smile form the moment he pulls you in closer, the space between you crumbling away, "careful, mr. wolff. you need to maintain some sort of distance between us, remember?"

he shakes his head, fingers squeezing your waist, "right now, i could give any fucks what your father would think. he's lucky that i have some sort of self-control."

"and why is that?" you press, blood roaring in your ears as his head lowers, situated by your ear.

"because it is taking everything within me to keep myself from getting on my knees right this instant and lifting up that gown of yours."

[the-summ0ning]

Sleep Token HC: being in a relationship with vessel

Hello, I hope you like my final HC for Ves. Fluff elements with highly NSFW ideas. 🤠 I’m always open to HC requests as well 🤭

Vessel, vessel, vessel—where do we begin?

Vessel the bf that is so deeply profoundly in love with you

If he could he’d rip his heart out of his chest for you and just hand it to you, he would.

His love languages would be words of affirmation and physical touch

He often battles with icky thoughts of himself, and you’re his ever radiant light in his bleakest days, so he would go out of his way to make sure it was known

Notes everywhere around your house, even a month and half into tour, you keep finding them

Praises in your medicine cabinet, crumbled pieces of paper at the bottom of your bags bc he know you won’t find them right away. Little Sonnets on your desk or on the fridge just so you know how much you are loved by him

Once you stopped finding them around the house or in your things, he’d start sending flowers or treats with love notes attached. Just because gestures especially if the night before you told him what a long week it was and knew you were struggling

You have so many of these notes, post its, scraps of paper you’ve compiled them in a scrapbook/binder and it’s on your bookshelf now

Texts for when you wake up reminding you to take your meds/vitamins, and to keep up with your water intake—voice memos too

Honestly he’d send you voice memos all the time like it was your own little podcast

Having black paint smeared on you because he couldn’t keep his hands to himself

Or would want you to apply his body paint before a show. Squirming underneath your fingers as you apply it because of your featherlight touches, listening to his quiet hisses when you’d go too low and gentle

“We’re not going to make it out of this dressing room if you keep doing that, love.”

Vessel would love to be big spoon, having you tucked underneath him or your back against his chest. Tracing patterns on your arms, hips, and thighs

He always loomed around you, everyone knowing if you were there, he was somewhere lurking around 95% of the time. He was a quietly protective man.

Coming up when you were talking with friends at an event, a comforting squeeze to the nape of your neck and a drink to quietly check on you

Wearing one of his extra robes backstage. It was so big and light, perfect for the hot and humid venues, a great blanket tbh where you could use the hood to cover your face

There’s a folder in his phone dedicated with pictures of you in many spaces of the venues they played just sleeping with his robe over you

Also the amount of videos of you two just frolicking around backstage, helping him with dance moves whilst in his robe that dragged on the floor, nearly tripping on it, when you wore it because it was so long on you

You liked to go into the crowd during the shows, enjoying the atmosphere of fans. Vessel would get a kick out of that, and you two would make it like a game almost

Instantly being able to spot you in the crowd through the lights and smoke. Always looking in your direction to lowkey serenade you and do little inconspicuous moves directed for you. In return, you’d run your hands through up and down your body swaying your hips to his voice. His own little siren in the sea of people

He loved watching you jam tf out with the fans so careless in your own world dancing with everyone or receiving bracelets from the fellow concertgoers (he would panic slightly watching you try to go into the mosh pit every time tho, one time he actually had to send a member of the crew to discreetly retrieve you.)

I imagine vessel being codependent af, and the simplest of tasks you were always requested to tag along

groceries, pharmacy trips, picking up takeout—he needed his emotional support person. Bribing and rewarding you with little treats to lure you with him thinking you’d say no how could you he’d hit you with the puppy dog eyes I just know he’s master at that

Staying up or waking up to listen to his late night rambles/dreams/conspiracies tucked under his arm while sharing a joint or bottle of spirits

Or sitting beside him as he wrote song lyrics, quietly running them by you for your opinion. You just blinking slowly in awe with what his mind created unable to provide the input he wanted

I thinks it’s a mutual consensus among us: Vessel loves to bite. He can’t help his carnal primal urge to. He does it with his friends, you… Everyone had a mark from him at this point

I don’t imagine him being into quickies (unless he was absolutely throbbing and thirsting for you) this man would take his time. Setting the pace all during the day teasing you

He loved nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck, pressing kisses below your ear and whispering the filthiest things to get you flustered

“You look so good right now, I could take you right here.”

“I can’t wait to get you home and be deep inside you later, doll.” He would murmur, his hand squeezing your hip pulling you back into him feeling his already hardening length pressing in the soft flesh of your ass

Then when it finally happened, he goes at a nearly agonizing pace—he wanted to worship you. He didn’t like to fuck, he liked to make love.

intense and passionate, hips slowly rolling into you up til you were full of him. And he kept hitting that spot that made your eyes see stars and lulled to the back of your head.

He was not shy about how he felt, always moaning and praising you, but wasn’t too loud. Vocal fry as he quietly moaned about how good you made him feel

“You’re squeezing me so well,” rasping out, trying to look at where your bodies connected, resisting the urge to close his eyes

“Fuck, you look so pretty under me.”

He’s 100% a morning sex person

Not even letting either of you have a chance to get out of bed, one hand slipping down your front rubbing you softly while the other gripped your throat to turn your face so he could slowly kiss you—devouring your mouth with his—all in a blissed out half sleep stupor

Hehe, I woke up from my nap and chose violence horniness, sorry. Anyways thanks for the support and all the love on these 🫶🏻✨

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

I hope you had a great time seeing them in Germany! What do you think about reader seeing the boys live for the first time? ❤️

I really ran with this…

Vessel

He was shitting his pants. There were always some nerves before the show. That was inevitable when you genuinely cared about what you did. But suddenly he felt that he was more than fine to go in front of thousands of people. Even messes a line in his song. But knowing that you were there. That his team had secured you the best spot in the pit. That suddenly made him overthink every little thing.

Not to mention that you were there. In a sea of people. What if someone knocked you out while moshing? What if you fell? Did someone rob you? Punched you? No, he was flying off the hook. He had security there. There were a couple of people from the team who were there alongside you. You weren’t alone. He had nothing to worry about. No one knew you two were together. No one had a reason to target you. Yet he cared too much to not feel panic over it.

It all shifted when Vessel had finally made his way to the catwalk. For a moment he had forgotten that you were there. Too lost in the music. Too used to your schedule clashing with concert dates. But when his eyes met yours. The smile on your face could have sent him straight to his knees. You told him every day how proud you were of him. But there was something else about seeing it yourself. The glisten in your eyes. The way you shook your head almost in disbelief. That smile. Fuck him the smile that he had fallen for months ago. Without really thinking about it Vessel pointed at you. Making the crowd fall into fits of screams. Just they didn’t know that was for you and you only. You laughed softly shaking your head. He spent as much time as he could there at the end of the catwalk. Looking at you the whole time, thankful that his mask didn’t let others see that.

Pumped up with adrenaline after the show he could barely stand in one place as he waited for his team to bring you backstage once more. Crew passing by kept on congratulating, tapping his shoulder but he didn’t hear much of it. All his attention was on the little metal door that stood between you and him now. “Sir, could I get an autograph?”, a tap on his back made him do a 180 so quickly Vessel nearly lost his balance. And here you were. The same glistening eyes looked up at him. He simply smiled, hands reaching for your hips as he pulled you closer to him. Making you step on your tippy toes to kiss his lips softly.

“And?”, Vessel muttered after pulling away. “You were unbelievable!”, your hands clasped his biceps as you attempted and the key word here was attempted to shake all 6’3 of him. “I mean my god…”, you grunted throwing your head back, “I knew you were amazing but that”, you gestured back towards the stage. Vessel could feel his cheeks heating up. He knew that he always cared about what everyone thought but there was something special about knowing that people you loved, shared the love for something so special to you as well.

“Vess you were fucking amazing”, you beamed, cupping his still paint-covered cheeks. “You are too kind”, he muttered leaning closer. Brushing his nose against yours, before giving it a little kiss. “No i see you and that was life-changing”, your tone turned a lot more serious now, “that’s why people love you so much, baby”, you mused softly.

“I only had my eyes on you”, Vessel pointed out making you chuckle. “You better, I saw them girls with their titts out”, you narrowed your eyes at him playfully. Vessel let out a soft chuckle, “saw no titts only your eyes”, he muttered, pushing a strand of your hair away from your face. “Thank you for inviting me”, you whispered, stepping closer, and pressing your palms against his chest. “Thank you for being here”, Vessel smiled, leaning in once more, brushing his soft lips over yours. “Sorry you have paint…”, he grunted, reaching out to brush his thumb over the smudge on your cheek. “No, don’t brush it off - want to have my fangirl moment”, you pull back, grinning like a devil, making Vessel chuckle once more.

iii

Everyone knew a month prior that you would join them for one of the home shows they were doing. There wasn’t a soul left in the crew who hadn’t heard the whole “my girlfriend this��, and “my girlfriend that”, story. He was a proud boyfriend okay. Besides this band, you were the best thing that had happened to him and he wasn’t about to be quiet about it. So the whole morning he has a grin on his face because he’s in his car, going to the venue and you’re right beside him. His hand on your thigh as he grins.

Everyone else is being the sweetest, greeting you as if you are one of the team. Your hand is in his as iii slowly walks you through the whole setup. Showing you where all of his guitars are. “Hold on”, he muses, reaching for his black and red bass before putting it over your shoulders. “Jesus, you look tiny”, he chuckled at how huge it looked in your arms. “Wait, pose”, he’s laughing, taking shit tonnes of pictures of you with his bass. And you best bet that’s his new lock-screen.

When it comes to the show it’s, you also choose to watch it from the pit. Craving that rush of energy from the crowd plus it’s the best spot to see him from in all his glory. You’re grinning up at him the whole show. Singing the lyrics that by now are a part of your soul as well. Not being able to keep your tears at bay at some parts. “You cried”, is the first thing he says as you two reunite, “That bad?”. “That good”, you mutter back, wrapping your arms around his neck. iii stand up fully, making your legs dangle in the air as he sways you from side to side. “Next time stay backstage”, he muses against your neck, “want to come back between songs and give you a kiss”. You chuckle softly, “You wanted to do that on stage tonight didn’t you?”, because you could swear that man was teetering the line of falling off stage more than once. “What gave me away?”, iii chuckles. “I love you, you little crazy dude”, you shake your head, brushing your fingers through his messy hair.

ii

Yeah, you are in the pit. His side of the stage end of the story. He had told you once that there were shows where he felt forgotten. That people were there for everyone but not him. He was more than aware that he couldn’t go zooming through the stage with his drums but that didn’t mean that he didn’t feel left out at times. So the moment you knew that you were going, you had taken it upon yourself to make a sign. A sign that said: I’m only here for the drummer. All covered in pink glitter and bows because you knew that that would make him roll his eyes.

And you knew that you made the right choice once the girl barricading next to you muttered, “Cool sign”, you chuckled softly, “Thanks, got to show the love”. She simply nodded, asking if she could take a picture of you with it. “I love ii as well, he deserves to know that we see him too”, she smiled, making you smile alongside her. “Let me take a pic of you as well”, you motioned for her to hand her phone over. Falling into a soft conversation after.

You could tell the exact moment ii saw it too. He had halted. Only making you scream louder. Then did his infamous disappointed head tilt before shaking his head no doubt in laughter. ii had stopped and took a moment to get down, throwing some of his drumsticks for the crowd. Shaking a warning finger your way before throwing you one as well. You caught it with ease and almost instantly turned to the girl standing next to you.

“Here, have it”, you pointed the drumstick at her. Her eyes grew big, “No you caught it…”, she shook her head, yet you could see the suppressed excitement there. “Nah”, you waved her off, “trust me. Take this, I already have one at home”, you threw her a wink. Give her a quick hug before turning to find the crew waiting to bring you backstage.

ii was leaning against some of the gearboxes, arms crossed. His serious face morphed into a grin when he saw you skipping towards him as you waved your sign around. “Only, here for the drummer”, he muttered, right as you jumped into his arms. Giggling as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Yeah, sorry”, you shook your head, pulling back from him slightly, “everyone else is not up to my taste”. ii chuckled softly, arms moving to cup your ass as he moved your legs to wrap around his torso. “So how was the drummer?”, he asked raising one eyebrow at you. You tapped your chin a couple of times as if pretending to think. “Extremely sexy”, you wiggled your eyebrows making ii let out a laugh, “Played not bad too”, you shrugged, grinning, only to be met by ii fingers tickling your side as you squirmed in his arms. “Not bad, huh”, he muttered against your neck, making you giggle even more. “might have to come a couple more times to make sure he’s good”, you chuckled, leaning your forehead against his. “Well, that could be arranged”, ii nodded, leaning in to kiss you.

Ivy

Ivy had never taken anyone backstage. There has never been anyone in the crowd for him. Just fully for him. So when he’s telling the team that he’s bringing someone with him for the next show he can’t escape the wiggling eyebrows and woops that follow him. So he’s a nervous wreck stopping you right before you enter the green rooms.

“They are insane please don’t run away until the very end”, he whines, eyes pleading as he looks down at you. “Ivy, I’m here for you”, you cup his face, brushing his thumbs over his face. “I know just…”, iv shakes his head. It’s so weird for him to have someone he trusts so unconditionally. Someone he wants to make a part of every single thing in his life. “There could be a giraffe there and still all I care about is seeing you up there tonight”, you shrug trying to lighten his anxiety. “Sorry to disappoint we do not have a giraffe, that’s the venue next to this”, he sighed, yet there it was his infamous grin you had fallen victim to. “Bummer”, you scrunch up your nose before leaning in to chase a couple of fleeting kisses.

You watch him from the pit as well. I mean, that would be an opportunity wasted. He’s grooving the whole show. Pulling all sorts of stunts. Even Vessel joins in pointing towards you before yanking Ivy’s head back for a kiss. Fans scream around but all you can do is laugh at the death glare Ivy shoots at Vessel, who’s laughing to himself as he runs to the other side of the stage.

You’re lounging in one of his jackets when he finally comes backstage. Paint still smudged all over his face. “You look like a raccoon”, you chuckled, standing up to greet him. His arms are around you in an instant, bending you back slightly as he kisses you. “Okay, rockstar, knocking me out of my boots”, you blow a breath out, making him laugh.

“How was it? Tell me I looked hot?”, he wiggled his eyebrows at you. “How you submitted to Vessel? Yeah, that was sexy”, you smirked back at him, “You recon he would give me tips on how…”, but you don’t get to finish before Ivy’s lips are back on yours, kissing you senseless.

[incorrectbatfam]

Not sure if you’ve heard of the ‘dad reflex’ where dads just save their small children from imminent harm (usually because the child is still learning how gravity works or just completely unaware of the world around them). I know Bruce technically doesn’t get the bat kids young but either way his batdad reflex has to be off the charts. What are his best dad reflexes? (They can be smol kids or cannon ages whatever sparks your creative juices most!)

Thank you💙💙

They're at someone else's gala and 27-year-old grown-ass Dick is swinging from a giant chandelier in an atrium 3 stories high when it gives out and Bruce "Wine drunk and raving about his kids" Wayne, who hears the tiny snap across the room, stops mid-conversation, grabs a steak knife, slashes a curtain, and swings from the balcony in like fuckin' Tarzan to grab him in the span of 5 seconds before 300 pounds of metal and glass come crashing down

Tim gets mosh pit tickets for his favorite band and Bruce goes with him because Bernard got caught up in something last minute, and after hours of waiting outside, they make it all the way to the front where, on the last song, Bruce's dad senses tingle in time to shield Tim from a malfunctioning confetti cannon all while glaring at the crew in a way that guarantees someone's about to lose their job

In a recon mission gone sideways, Bruce and Steph are taking on some goons at the harbor when one of them knocks her into the water, and without hesitation he throws aside the person he's fighting, dives into the freezing waves, and gives her his rebreather, holding his breath for what seems like forever until they resurface, and despite the ache in his lungs the next morning, it's worth it when he watches her turn waffles into a breakfast burrito

Duke's driving the Batmobile while Bruce is in the passenger's seat walking him through all the controls, and they're listening to the scanner and joking about their last mission when, just before an intersection, Bruce suddenly grabs the wheel and swerves, and before Duke can say anything a semi truck plows through the exact spot where they would've been

Cass tries to cook one day while Bruce is sitting at the bar doing some work, and he forgot what she was making, but all he knows is one minute he's answering an email and the next he's sprinting across the kitchen and sweeping her out of the way right before the pressure cooker explodes—and afterwards he doesn't let her clean up because everything is still scalding hot

The middle school holds a fundraiser at the petting zoo, and everything's going great until someone forgets to turn off their flash and the whole enclosure descends into chaos, and all Bruce cares about is scooping Damian up before a bull rams into the fence he was sitting on—then he makes eye contact with Clark, who just did the exact same with Jon

Against orders, Jason pursues a lead that brings him right to the Joker's doorstep. Dazed and disarmed, he doesn't realize what's happening until a long metallic scrape renders him frozen as those moments replay in his mind, and he thinks this is how the universe wants him to go out. Then he hears a swoosh and a click. Jason opens his eyes to Batman pointing a gun at the Joker, his silence sending a clear message: no more chances.

BONUS: Teenage Bruce tried to sneak out the window and Alfred was at the bottom ready to catch him

[beenbaanbuun]

the show w/ choi jongho

thinking about meeting jongho at a hardcore gig. you don’t really know the band that’s playing, but you’ve heard of them and after finding yourself alone and bored on a random tuesday night, you figure you might as well!

so you take a trip down to your local alternative music club, an oversized band t-shirt handing loosely over the tiny skirt you decided to wear. you can barely see the hem of it before your fishnet-covered thighs are exposed. they bulge over the top of your thigh highs, looking just as soft as squishy as you wanted them to. on your feet rest a pair of old skool vans, beat up and a little gross after years of abuse in mosh pits and venues so disgusting that the floor always seems to be covered by a thick layer of grunge. they’re your favourite pair of shoes, the memories they hold being worth more than their prettiness.

the venue hits you in the face with the scent of stale beer and sweat; it’s gross but you can’t help but smile as you head towards the bar. theres just something so familiar about the foul smell.

“excuse me,” you say to the group of men huddling around the counter, all with full cups of beer in their grasp. they’re too engrossed in conversation to even notice you as you stand there tapping your foot, and you can’t help but let out an agitated sigh, “or just don’t move, i guess; that works too.”

you take a step forward, about to physically push your way through them. the beer that is guaranteed to be spilled down your top is just residual damage. it’s bound to happen anyway since no one can keep their drinks in their hands once a band steps on stage. you brace yourself for the angry grunts you’re about to get and then—

a hand cups your shoulder, holding you back. it’s warm, and as you look down at it, surprisingly well manicured. huh… you didn’t know men who listened to hardcore knew how to take care of themselves to that extent. you follow his arm up, slightly disappointed at the way his beige crew neck covers his arms—with the way his hand is gripping you, you can tell he’s got strength. your gaze shifts past his neck, taking note of the cute little freckle, before moving up to his face.

holy hell.

your lips part a little and you take in a shuddery breath. he’s beautiful.

his skin glows like honey in the sunlight, looking flawless even in the dim lighting of the club. the muscles in his jaw ripple beneath his skin as he clenches it; you swallow thickly. “‘scuse us, gents,” he says, his perfect lips moving in a way that has you unable to stop staring at them. and his voice? god, you want to obey every word that he says in that syrupy cadence.

you don’t even notice when the men part, only moving forward when the handsome stranger puts pressure on your shoulder to guide you through the crowd. you let him, happy to go wherever he takes you as long as his warm hand never leaves your shoulder.

he only stops when the two of you meet the bar and his gaze shifts down to meet yours. you feel your insides melt at the sight of his black irises that seem to glitter as if they hold the universe within them. you suck in a sharp breath though your nose and— holy fuck, is it him that smells that good? the scent of spices fills your head and you feel your knees go weak. your hand finds the bar, ignoring the stickiness in favour of keeping yourself upright.

“what are you drinking?” he asks in that smooth voice. the question almost doesn’t register, your brain too invested in him to even think about anything else. it takes a moment or two for you to realise that oh! he’s taking to you? and a moment or two more for you to pull yourself together enough to give a coherent answer.

“uh, beer?” you say, trying to come off as cool. he smiles and it’s the prettiest thing you think you’ve ever seen.

“you don’t sound too sure about that,” there’s a hint of amusement in his voice and it makes you wonder what his laugh sounds like. probably as beautiful as the rest of him. “i wouldn’t so sure be either; beer is gross. that’s why i’ll be having a double vodka cran… want one?”

you nod silently and his smile grows until you can see his gums. it’s adorable, and it makes your heart beat at an almost concerning pace. is it too early to break out the L word? probably, you tell yourself.

“a vodka cran it is, pretty girl,” he says, and you die a little inside. pretty girl? it’s like he’s trying to send your heart into overdrive, “i’ll have it in your hands in no time. i’m great at flagging down bar staff.” he wiggles his eyebrows as if his self proclaimed sufficiency at bars is something for you to be impressed by. you find yourself giggling, which only makes his face light up more. you swear he mumbles a quick ‘cute’ under his breath, but perhaps that’s just your delusions speaking.

he’s right, though. he does have your drink in your hand in a matter of minutes. he passes it to you with a wink and a click of the tongue before leaning over to grab two straws from the bar. he slips one into his own drink before passing you the other. you take it and slide it into your cup.

“how much was it?” you ask before descending on your straw. even as you take a sip, you never once look away from him. you watch his adams apple bob when you wrap your lips around the paper and suck; you think nothing of it.

“for you? free,” he slips his own straw in his mouth, gulping down a few mouthfuls before pulling a face at the taste. you have to agree, the vodka they use has always been pretty foul; no amount of watered down mixer can mask the taste of the cheap spirit.

you tug the straw away; the strangers eyes flick down to see the lipstick stain left on the paper. he finds himself sending a mental thank you to whoever decided to play the pre-show playlist at an unnecessary volume; at least it hides the involuntary groan he lets out at the sight.

“and for you?” you ask as you swirl your cup in your hand in the hopes of mixing it a little better, “how much was my drink?”

he goes back in for another sip, shrugging as he grins around the straw. it’s soon wiped away by the taste of the beverage, you laugh as you watch a shiver go down his spine. he pulls away and coughs.

“a gentleman never talks about money,” he says with a strained voice, “but just know it was fucking overpriced for how it tastes. does it always taste like this?”

you nod, a pained smile taking over your expression.

“unfortunately so,” you take another sip, only to find out that your ‘mixing’ had done nothing; it still tastes like shit. you purse your lips as you pull away, tensing to stop your own body from shivering. it doesn’t work; the man still lets out a chuckle as he watches you shudder. “what do you usually get?”

a sheepish look takes over his face.

“beer-”

“beer?!” you scoff, leaning forward to hit his arm gently with your fist. it can’t have hurt him, but he pulls a faux pained expression anyway, rubbing over the flesh with his other hand. it brings a smile onto your face to see him play into your antics. “you told me you didn’t like beer!”

he shrugs.

“i didn’t want you to think i’d judge you for drinking something ‘girly’,” he warps his voice and rolls his eyes as he mentions the gendered drinks you hold in your hands, clearly expressing his dismissal of the concept. “but now i’ve tasted it, maybe i am judging you. it really does taste like shit.”

“i know,” you agree.

you fall into a comfortable silence, the both of you slowly getting your drinks down you as the world seems to carry on around you. the bar bustles behind you, but you ignore it in favour of watching the man in front of you. his expressions as he rips the straw free and tips the last bit of his drink down his throat has you giggling. the way he glares at the man who bumps into you has you swooning. how he bops his head in time to the music has you falling deeper and deeper into this pit you’d found yourself in. it’s too soon for the L-word—you don’t even know his name yet—but you’re almost positive that this is how it’s supposed to feel.

you finish up your drink, wincing as the vodka burns your throat on the way down. your lips pull away from the straw and almost immediately, a warm hand covers yours. your stranger pulls the empty cup from your hand and puts it on the ledge to be taken away later. you smile, grateful for the tiny act of service that realistically shouldn’t be making your heart ache to the level it is doing. you don’t even know the man…

“what’s your name?” the sudden question startles him; clearly he wasn’t expecting the lull in conversation to be broken so quickly. he soon recovers, though, smirking at you as if your simple question was akin to you flirting with him.

“choi jongho,” he hums, “what’s yours?”

you tell him. he smiles in response, “pretty name for a pretty girl…” heat burns under your skin; you hope the poor lighting is enough to hide the way your cheeks darken.

“thanks,” you purr, “yours isn’t so bad either.”

he huffs out a breath of laughter through his nose before opening his mouth to say something else. it’s just his luck that the moment he does, the lights dim even further and a loud drumbeat kicks in from the stage.

“good fucking evening! we are—”

the microphone peaks, making you wince at the screech that echos through the venue. jongho’s eyes scrunch shut as he tries to block out the sound, but it’s too abrasive to ignore. he grabs your hand and leans in close.

“i have a feeling this is going to fucking suck,” he yells over the guitar that’s begun to warble tunelessly through the club. you nod wordlessly against him, too distracted by the sudden proximity to actually speak. “i know a pretty cool cafe near-by. it’s open late and they serve really good coffee… do you maybe want to get out of here before we lose our hearing and out will to live?”

again, you nod.

“good,” he leans in to press a warm kiss to your cheek. your heart does a fucking backflip in your rib cage. “it’s a date…”

[thesleepyfable]

~ SWTD: Still Here AU Part 8: ~

An Apology?

What's this? The start of a Rennick redemption arc? Honestly, out of all the chapters I've done, this was the easiest to do. The long awaited Muirne/Muirinnes chapter is next.

Part 9:

Cheers roared across the Deck. The darts was being held outside for Muir. He just missed out on the finale and no one was going to be left behind. Even Rennick had an open invite, but still, now long into the night, he stayed in hiding.

Brodie had won the darts by, and no offence to Finlay, a country mile. Everyone was happily drinking beers and eating the left over Christmas food. Raffs, Scooby, McLurg, Roy and Trots handed out the food and drink. Muir, because this was going to be a running gag, hoisted Brodie up and over his head. Poor Brodie covered his eyes and called to be put down as laughs drowned out his voice. Muir sensed the panic in his heartbeat and put him down to be surrounded by his crew mates for his own mosh pit.

Caz watched from the steps. He needed time alone. He watched the game, had a moment with Roy and was currently thinking what to tell Suze. There was no point writing to her. Rescue should be here by tomorrow afternoon. He was just wondering what to say to her.

Whatever gift The Shape gave him tingled in the back of his head. It registered Rennick. Caz turned and saw the man on the helipad. Trots and the others must have sensed him too, but they all ignored him. Caz caught himself staring at his manager a little longer than he would have. He pondered, swinging the can of beer between his fingers.

'Bigger man?! You are shitting me, McLeary. You're the bigger man?'

'Fuck sake, Suze.' Of course she was right. He swallowed his pride, took another beer from an unsuspecting Raffs who now sat further away with Douglas, and made his way to the helipad. Some of the crew who also sat on the steps noticed.

Once again, Rennick had a distant look in his eyes. He didn't hear Caz approach and only noticed when the beer was in his peripheral vision. His eyes followed to the leccy, who was looking out to the sea. 'Just take it.'

Food and drink was the last thing on Rennick's mind. His eyes narrowed at Caz, then took the beer as if it were a fragile piece of glass. A tendril slowly wrapped itself around the can. A part of him wondered if this was a prank. Was the can empty? Was it going to explode? When nothing happened and Caz sat down did he finally relax. Like Muir, Rennick loafed like a cat, tucking his two 'arms' under himself. God, how he hated it.

A silence lingered between the men. Neither knew what to say to each other. Caz couldn't exactly ask Rennick how he was doing, and Rennick couldn't ask anything. He knew he was hated. Caz knew that, too. The sounds of the sea waves splashing against the legs filled the lack of conversation.

'Brodie won the darts,' Caz eventually said.

'I'm not surprised.' Back to silence. Caz sipped on his beer, trying not to be loud. He glanced to Rennick, who was trying and failing to open his. The tendrils were too thick to wrap around the tag. Sensing, or just being able to read the man like a book, Caz took the can, opened it, and offered it back before tempers could rise. '...Thanks.'

'Nae bother.' A pause. God, how Caz couldn't stand this. Just say something. Be the bigger man. 'Do you have anyone waiting back home?'

'Aye. I have my son and grandson.'

'And the missus?'

'No idea. She left years ago. It was a nasty divorce. She told me I love money more than her. She was right, but...I dunno...' Rennick downed his entire can.

He felt the beer not go into his stomach because it didn't exist anymore, but across his entire body like an energy source. Rennick didn't know how to feel. Physically, it felt normal, but mentally, he was uncomfortable. He tried not to show it and passed it off as how strong the drink was. It wasn't strong at all. 'Weaker than piss,' Finlay would say.

Maybe because he just wanted to talk to someone or the thought that rescue wouldn't come, Rennick continued.

'I know you all hate me, but you should all share that hatred towards Cadal.'

'You still ordered the drilling, Rennick. This does come down to you.'

'Please. If it was up to me, I would have stopped the drilling. But Cadal, that Bernard prick, would have rung all our necks.'

'I don't think that's enough to make them down there happy.'

'Okay, son, you suddenly got smart over the course of a day, what would you have me do?'

It was remarkable how calm the pair were being. Neither of the men raised their voices. Rennick sounded so tired. There was no life in his voice. The hours alone had given him much to think about. At the end of the day, he knew he was at fault for all of this. Gibbo's words had been repeating in his head. Poetic or karma that he would be infected last as he tried to flee. If he had just stayed in his office and waited, he'd still be human. Did he feel bad for that? Honestly, he didn't know. He just wanted to live. But, it was clear Rennick was stuck with these men for the near future. Would that be so bad?

'The way I see it,' Caz said. 'If you want to get into their good books, then come and join us.' And with that, Caz got to his feet and walked back for the Deck. Rennick watched him leave. He pondered and, like Caz, swung the can whilst his mind tried to make a decision. He was a leader. He should be good at this.

With a heavy heart and after tossing the can into the sea as last 'fuck you' towards The Shape, he followed Caz, who was waiting outside Administration.

Oddly enough, and he couldn't give a reason as to why Caz was proud of him. The half-smile and crossed arms said that. 'We made sure to set up a bed for you and all.'

'This doesn't make us friends, McLeary.'

'And I don't expect us to be.' The crew watched the pair. After seeing Gibbo, Rennick kept his head down and picked up the pace as Caz led him to his bed. His wounds had long since healed. It was the only good thing about The Shape's infection, along with fixing his sight. 'Here ya go. Home sweet home.'

Rennick felt like a horse going into its stable. He was tired. His mind had been racing all day, and his stress levels couldn't get any higher. He wanted to sleep. The small mountain of bed sheets and pillows looked like heaven on his heavy eyes. Before stepping inside, he found the courage to turn back and look at his crew.

'I'm sorry for everything. I'll do better next time.' And with that, Rennick walked into his container and slowly pulled the door shut. A small sigh of relief could be heard as his body gave out.

Everyone was quiet as they tried to wrap their heads around what they had just heard. Rennick apologised? It was a start, but how willing was he to commit? Only time would tell, but no one was getting their hopes up.

'He's improving already,' Caz whispered to whoever was closest to him - that being Addair - who gave him a look. 'He didn't slam the door for a start.'

[lostinsidelostoutside]

This comes from aish.com and I love it 💙

These are very brave women and more important they are survivors.

Yaffa Adar survived the Holocaust and Hamas 💙

Rachel edir distracted the terrorists for 20 hours saving herself and her husband 💙

Adina Moshe a hostage ,helped kids and others in Hamas tunnels 💙

Rimon Kirsht Stared down her Hamas captor while keeping her arm around meirav tal 💙

The all female Tank crews from the Paran Brigade eliminated over 50 Hamas terrorists 💙💙

Amazing 💙

These women are strong , courageous and brave and an inspiration in courage 💙

[anoray]

Cohesive storytelling

The beauty of Skeleton Crew (so far) is that there is clearly an overall storyline that serves as a scaffold for the ongoing character and plot development rather than a mish mosh of disparate episodes stuck together without glue. The different directors add their own flavor to each episode, and the characters take turns having their moments to shine, but the puzzle pieces seem to be fitting together in a coherent way that will result in a satisfying season finale. Another plus is that if you know very little about Star Wars, the show is still understandable, and if you're a Star Wars nerd like me, you can pick up on the various nods that are interwoven throughout (blessedly without Big Neon Signs Saying Hey Here's An Easter Egg You Guys!!!).

A very tiny example of dialogue being part of this process: In Ep. 5, the resort hostess whispers to her underlings that they may have a Waste Management issue concerning the Onyx Cinder, then in Ep. 6 it makes sense when the waste removal drones show up to haul the ship away to the trash heap. And then we get that glorious surprise when the kids manage to save the ship by blasting away the same outer armor that Tak Rennod referred to in his holo message.

Like the Onyx Cinder, the story itself is a nesting doll by providing hints and clues (some more obvious than others) of what may come somewhere down the line. So far, they've managed to keep what pops up fun and fresh regardless of its predictability. I'm hoping the last two episodes twist things in unexpected directions, yet retain the storyline cohesiveness that's been built up along the way.

I especially look forward to seeing how this space pirate and his first mate interact now that Jod is SM-33's captain. They are such a dumpster fire together, yet can be genuinely deadly at the same time!

[damned-punk]

I love the Kid pirates 😍💕 I would really enjoy a HC how they act around a new female member who wants to join the crew

★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★

Kidd

• Has a tendency to attract and collect people who don’t fit the usual standards of normativity

• Would carefully examine how they interacted with the crew to determine if they would make it as a Kidd Pirate

• When it comes to women who want to join the crew, I have a feeling that he (perhaps subconsciously) looks for similarities they may have to Victoria

Killer

• Bases a major part of his impression off a person’s behavior when he first meets them

• Carefully considers the way someone discusses the physical and social traits of their future crewmates

• Ultimately defaults to Kidd’s opinion, if someone isn’t up to his standards then they likely won’t be up to Killer’s either

Heat

• Accepting of just about anyone who shows a genuine interest in the crew (with a strong emphasis on the genuine aspect)

• Would quickly warm up to new members who are willing to party with him

Wire

• Can be harder to gauge how he feels because he’s so quiet, complimenting him would be the best way to start a conversation

• Surprisingly laid back, will accept anyone as long as they are authentic

Dive, Moai, Disc J, Hip, Hop, House, Quincy, & Emma

• Most likely to want to be the new person’s best friend

• Will corner any and all new members in order to do their makeup, nails, etc.

• The most easy to approach out of the bunch

Bubblegum, UK, Reck, Boogie, Pomp, Mosh, & Gig

• Most likely to develop a crush on the new member

• Will shamelessly flirt as a way to get to know the person

• Would be wrapped around the new person’s finger if they reciprocated hitting on them

☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆

[punks-never-die205]

Been thinking about this lately but, which of the Kid pirates do you think has the highest alcohol tolerance? How many shots of whiskey can they do?

I feel like Wire would only get 3-4 shots in before he falls over and starts french kissing the floor.

XD

I think their tolerances are higher than we'd expect. Pirating life does that to you, especially since low-level grog/ale would have less sanitary worries over the long haul than water.

But that's maybe a bit too much logistical realism in our funny pirate anime.

I think 3-4 shots is enough to get everyone chill. A couple people tipsy. 5-6 shots and there's drunk laughter scattering about even though nothing really funny was actually said.

7 shots and maybe Bubblegum is wearing a pretty pink bonnet and getting the other crew members to call him pretty. Because of his bonnet.

8 shots and a good bit of the crew (Mosh, Pomp, UK, Gig, REck, Papas and Compo) are starting a mosh pit, except there's no music and it turns into a game of duck, duck, goose.

9 shots and Heat's drawing his tattoo design on Wire with grease crayons, and Wire's letting him. Quincy is pulling small arms out of her hat and Hip and Hop are just clear headed enough to confirm that all the bullets were removed earlier.

10 shots in and Kid is looking a little regretful, but he's not going to admit it yet, and Moai and Jaguar are out - they keep stopping and starting Row, Row, Row Your Boat and mixing it up with In The Hall of the Mountain King.

11 shots and nothing changes, but a few duck, duck, goose players are asleep.

12 shots in and Kid is telling Killer how pretty his eyes are, but Killer's still wearing his mask. He's respond, but he actually fell asleep just after the 10th shot and no one noticed.

13 shots in, it's just House and Emma, but House concedes, because in all their years as a crew, no one has out drank Emma, and hardly showing signs of being tipsy as it is.

[eustasscapitankid]

Underneath the Battle

Eustass Kid x Reader | Gender Neutral

Kikitober 2024: Day 2 - Back to Back Tags: Mature, Enemies/Rivals to Lovers, Battle, Swearing Summary: Somehow you always find yourself in battle. That's not the problem. The problem is somehow you always end up in the same fights as Kid. An obnoxious fuck. You're always at each others throats...at least he knows how to fight. Especially now that you've found yourself in a battle with seemingly endless enemies and separated from both your crews. Word Count: 1,088

Yet again you’ve found yourself in the midst of battle. You don’t mind it. In fact, it’s actually quite exhilarating. The thrill of risking your life, the dance between people—the chance to utilize your abilities without worrying about the consequences...but there he is. Again.

Somehow, no matter where you are, you always find yourself battling next to him. This obnoxious, red-haired fuck. You don’t even usually see him before you’re in the thick of it. Then suddenly, you’re back to back. Every. Fucking. Time. How is that even possible? Like...statistically? In the whole vast ocean—in all of the islands that comprise the Grand Line and all of the people in battle—how is it that you seem to always end up fighting side by side with the same man?

You bitched to your crew about it—He pisses you off. He’s so fucking loud. And stubborn. They just laughed at you. Normally they’d point out that you were exactly the same but...not while one this subject. Failing miserably to hold back laughter, hands tight to their mouths trying to stifle back snickers. Each of them refused to elaborate. Instead urging you to ignore him, and insisting it was but a coincidence that it kept happening. They were lying. Truthfully, while they couldn’t explain being in the same place at the same time as his crew so often, they knew exactly why you both found each other in battle. It’s kind of hard not to notice the two people charging into quite literally the middle of the battlefield like they were searching the sea of a crowd for a mosh pit. It’s even harder not to notice it when it happens repeatedly.

You always fought. Loudly. Which...they were actually grateful for. Hearing the ear-splitting noises that was you two having a row (somehow always impossibly more raucous than the battle around them) they could forget about you. Not in a bad way or anything. It’s just that you two fought so well, so in sync, they never had to worry about you. Kid’s crew felt the same. Even Killer let his guard down once he heard the inevitable, instantaneous racket that was you finding each other on the battlefield.

This time, they were particularly appreciative of the ruckus finally erupting in the midst of fighting. Enemies seemingly crawled from nowhere, appearing like apparitions before them. It felt as if each felled body was replaced by five more. Turning their attention to the task at hand, they left you and Kid to your own devices. The bodies pile up as the wall of enemies thickens exponentially—truly cutting you off from the rest of your allies. You do your best to hold your ground, and for the most part you’re successful...but you find yourselves backed—literally—into an unfortunate position against the edge of a steep drop overlooking a ravine.

Kid—a wicked grin on his face—laughs, “Looks like they saved the best for us.”

“At least they’re smart enough to keep the real threats together,” you smirk, fending off a larger opponent.

Cold metal makes contact with flesh, knocking back a tall gentlemen into several people behind him. “Is that a compliment I hear—?” the snide remark is left unfinished, suddenly lunging toward you.

The ring of metal against metal fills your ears. Managing to take down the enemy you were grappling with, you turn your head. A stout man gazes up at the larger frame of the man you fought beside, now pulling a knife out of the crevices of his arm and striking the man with his own blade before glancing at you. There is a flash of something in Kid’s eyes that you’re not used to. What was that…?

“Pay attention, idiot! Trying to get yourself killed? If someone’s going to kill you it’s going to be me.”

You roll your eyes, “You always say that—fuck! Watch out!”

You crash into him, tackling him to the ground with such force that you roll away from him as you land. Stopping just shy of the edge, you quickly regain your composure. Both of you quickly getting to your feet. Kid is immediately roped back into altercation. As you step forward, aiming to reunite so you can continue fighting at each other’s backs you hear an ear-piercing noise.

BOOM!

What was that? Wait...is the ground...shaking?

Your feet give way as the ground beneath you crumbles, sending you careening toward the ravine below. Still grappling with several husky men, his head turns sharply toward the noise—just in time to see you disappear over the edge.

“Oi! You—”

Not a single thought crosses his mind as he forces the three men back and takes the opportunity to dash to the edge where you fell. Without hesitation he follows, diving after you before he can even register what he’s doing. Tumbling down the ravine, bracing yourself, you prepare to crash into rubble at the bottom. Instead you feel something cold, as your caught before crashing to the ground coming to a halt. Your slow decent is followed by a large thud. Coughing up dirt, you look up in time to see Kid making contact with the debris beside you. For a heartbeat, there’s a silence as you lock eyes, face inches apart.

Your eyes widen in confusion as you register what it mean for him to be next to you. What it meant to be feeling the cool of metal cradling you instead of the warm dirt. “Kid…? Did you just..save me?”

He huffs, “Don’t flatter yourself. The battle is thick and we’re cornered. I just can’t afford to lose a good fighter.”

“And here I thought you wouldn’t care if I died.”

“Tch. I told you. If someone kills your obnoxious ass it’s going to be me,” he retorts nonchalantly, but there’s a hint of something else in his tone. His golden eyes narrow into an unreadable expression. His gaze lingers. Though it seems to be lacking it’s usual vehemence.

Why is my heart pounding?

The look that finds its way into your eyes is not lost on him.

You’re snapped back to reality as the roar of enemies approaches. Cornered in a narrow space, and further cut off from the rest of battle you both scramble to your feet.

The air crackles with energy as kid smirks, turning to the encroaching force, “Try to keep up.”

You share a nod, and in perfect sync charge back into the fight, side by side.