#no fanfare??? yas bitch.

[bitbrumal]

                   ::  @narvvhal​ & khioniya  ↤  PLOTTED STARTER  ::

LIYUE HARBOUR, 13 hours ago.

her majesty the tsaritsa, a brumal vision in liyue’s earthen tones. sunk from the mountainous north to find her wayward heir upon their bloody red walk bridges, beneath their geometric roofs - stalking among the many lights that herald the lantern festival. she, in search of a man who so happens to be responsible for an incident here ( as much her fault as his. )              so then, who better to make amends?

there are little ones lost to the dark maw of the chasm. only the shreds of information have made it out of there - but those did make it out, & the fatal loyalty on display so far below the earth has driven khioniya off her throne. ( m i l e s  &  m i l e s from home. ) alike those lost & yet, nothing like their strife at all.

“this is not our festival.” there is some satisfaction at the slackjawed surprise in those who recognise her here. ( shorter, smaller, but just as pale. as part of the deal she is to be but the briefest glimpse of herself within the city’s borders. ) the northland bank evidently continues to play its opulent part- as do its creditors, its hunters. ayaks’ deep eyes are such a welcome sight.        “but we may as well bring them home before it ends, no?”

THE CHASM

this place eats the light. the remains of the sun that was made to die one kind of death here, are sooty & vindictive. the rock is stained blue. asphyxiated by the shadows.                invited by her there is a hunger here, a thrill. pebbles tumble over each other in her blind spot. the scff of otherwise quiet steps; the faintest swish of his scarf trailing in the wake of his purpose—& he, in hers.

a few locations had been marked & a crude, partially filled in map had exchanged hands. what has been filled in has been done in firm detail; those who stayed in the cave system having done so at length. but they were all scattered, & what connects the known tombs are passageways that’ll leave them in the dark. & then there are the unknown...         chalk scratches along the rockface. an arrow. inward.

                          “they’ve not even eaten properly in weeks. anyone we find gets sent here,” here, where a cache of non-perishable foods awaits them. sheltered from the enemy outside yet, close enough to bask in sunlight as it slants into the pit they are descending through. it is a paltry apology, & yet the taste of home will invigorate beyond any other treat. any other necessity. since they are quite unwelcome, there is a silent understanding between her majesty & lady ninguang. not a toe out of line; but corpses- & their alternatives -free to retrieve. as long as the collected force moves linearly away from the harbour. they’ll need to climb—but that, that comes much later.                “we’ll find our own way.” doubtlessly.

“...i owe you an apology as well. they come first,” it trails off, chased down by the scratch of chalk as she chooses left - & marks it on another makeshift map. “...but i know the situation i have put you in.            i will compensate you. somehow. if you’ll let me.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

girls just wanna have fun 5

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, manipulation, blackmail, noncon/dubcon, coercion, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: your struggle to push back against your controlling father result in a misguided crush. (Silverfox AU)

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself.

Shelby leaves and you deflate. You’re bored. You’re going to be bored forever. Your dad bitches at you until you do the dishes and vacuum but that only makes you more restless. 

As you decide to read on the porch, more a cover for your peeping behaviour, your dad appears with his golf bag and clears his throat. You sit up on the bench and take your feet off the little table. He hates when you do that. 

“Going to play a few rounds. Try not to make a mess.” 

“Yes, sir,” you say dryly. 

“I mean it,” he sniffs. 

“Alright. Jeez. Not like I'm doing much to make a mess.” 

“Oh yeah? Definitely not,” he mutters. “I didn’t find an empty bottle in the recycling...” 

“What?” You bat your lashes innocently. “I swear, it’s not mine.” 

“Sure, whatever. One won’t kill you but I don’t want it in my house,” he points at you. 

“Fine,” you huff. 

He leaves without much fanfare. No see yas, no I love yous, he’s never been that kind of dad. Only the type to point out everything you’ve done wrong.  

You wait for him to drive away as you plot behind your book. You can’t use your own friend to get your way. That made you feel too rotten. The answer is obvious but not one you relish. There is someone you can use but you don’t know if it’s worth it. 

As you mull over the failure of last night and hide behind the book, the low whir of an engine approaches. A car door brings your gaze above the pages and the very man on your mind appears. For once, it isn’t Bucky. 

Hm. Your mouth slants as you weigh the choice. Sam gets out of the car and bends to check his reflection in the side mirror, taking off his sunglasses as he winks at himself. God, he’s so annoying but he said he could help. Everything you’re doing is exactly wrong. 

You close the book and drop it on the table. You skip down the steps in your crop top and cut-offs and come around the white picket. He stops as he sees you and smirks at your advance. You stop before him, your chest bouncing shamelessly. 

“Well, hello ladies,” he makes no effort to hide his leering. You scoff. 

“Sam,” you say pointedly and fold your arms over your chest. “How?” 

“How what?” He tilts his head as he eyes you, bring up the arm of his glasses to chew on the tip. 

“How can you help me get to Bucky?” You ask. 

“Ha,” he laughs, “you’re really serious about that? You ran away last night.” 

“That was for my friend. She was scared.” 

“I don’t know, you looked pretty freaked out yourself.” 

“I’m not afraid,” you insist. “Maybe you are. Maybe you lied. Talk a big game. I shoulda known. You’re just like all the boys I know--” 

“Now hold up, I’m no boy. This right here, that’s grade A man. American meat,” he declares, “you want Buck, I get it. He’s got the whole angry old man thing the girls drool for. But I want something first.” 

“You’ll get it but how exactly can you help me get what I want?” You barter. 

His cheek dimples and he sucks his teeth, “well, I know my guy. Trust. And I know what he wants.” 

“Which is?” You narrow your eyes. 

“Now, now, I can’t just give away the good right away.” 

“Tell me, please,” you plead as you clutch your hands together.  

He huffs and looks towards the house, “are you sure you wanna go down this road?” 

His doubt stokes your own. Why wouldn’t you? It’s harmless. Just sex, right? It’s what adults do! You’re twenty years old and you don’t want to go back to campus a virgin. 

“Please,” you whimper. 

He chuckles again, “you’re exactly his type. He’s playing hard to get.” 

“Hm?” You perk up, “really?” 

“Yeah, I hate to admit it but he’s into you.” 

“He is?” 

“Calm down, sweetheart, we have a deal. You wanna get to him, you go through me. Which ironically, is what he’s into.” 

“Uh, what?” Your voice crackles. 

“Yeah, he loves to watch.” 

You laugh nervously, “you’re messing with me. I knew it.” 

“I’m not,” he’s more serious than you’ve ever seen him. “One day, when you’re older, more experienced, you’ll realise the freakiest freaks walk around like they have a stick up their ass. Hell, sometimes they do.” 

“So, what does that mean? What do I do?” You lower your voice, shaky as you realise what you’re asking. 

“Well, pretty kitty,” he boops your nose, “you look real good in those shorts, but you got anything sexier?” 

“Um, sure, I have some thongs.” 

“Good start, Lace?” 

“Probably,” you shrug.  

“Right, why don’t you show me? You need an expert.” 

“Really?” 

“You asked for my help. I’m helping.” 

“Ugh, you better not be fucking with me.” 

“Not right but hopefully soon,” he snickers. 

“Whatever, come on.” 

You turn and stomp back up the sidewalk. He follows casually and you peer around. You hope no one sees and tattles to your dad. Maybe you can make something up about a clogged pipe. Doesn’t matter right now. You doubt he even cares. 

Sam pulls the door shut behind him as you reach the stairs. You make a swift ascent and he comes up a few steps back. You enter your room and rush over to the dresser. You sift through and pull out your sexiest pairs. You can hear him tinkering around with your shit. 

“What are you doing?" You snap over your shoulder. 

“Just looking,” he comes up next to you and reaches into the drawer. He pulls out the vibe and rolls it between his fingers, “Mmm, this will be handy too.” 

“So?” You ignore him and spread out several pairs across the wood. “Which ones?” 

“Now, baby, I can’t decide if you don’t try ‘em on. I need the whole effect.” 

You huff. He keeps delaying. And it feels like he’s playing with you. 

“Promise you’re not lying.” 

“I swear,” he shows his palms and backs up. “I’ll close my eyes. The black lace.” 

He sits on the foot of the bed and slaps his hands down on his thighs. His pants are taught across his bulge. Oh god. He closes his eyes and you turn back. You pull of your shorts and switch out your panties for the black lace thong. 

“There? How is it?” You stand before him. 

He opens his eyes and grins, “turn around?” 

You cringe but obey. He lets out a long breath and tuts, “damn, that is a fine ass.” 

“Sounds like a yes,” you face him again, “so, it’ll work?” 

“Oh, you think it’s just the thong? No, baby, no,” he scoffs, “this is how it’s going to go down. I’m gonna tell Bucky I found a real fun girl. It’s been a while, he needs it, and you’re going to be waiting, in just that,” he reaches forward to touch the lace, “and you’re going to let me fuck your mouth, you can fuck mine too. That’ll get him nice and worked up.” 

“What?” You bluster, “you’re fucking with me. Oh my god. I can’t believe--” 

“I’m really not. We share all time. Or used to. Been a while, not gonna lie. Like I said, he is in need.” 

You step back and stare at him. You were prepared for Bucky. Prepared for just one guy at a time, but both. You’re not so sure. You put your hand to your neck and turn as you think. 

“I don’t know... maybe it’s stu--” 

You hear the digital shutter of a lens and face Sam as he holds his phone up. 

“What the fuck? Did you take a picture?” 

“Collateral,” he shrugs as he stands, “can’t have you flaking.” 

“Delete it.” 

“No.” 

“Delete--” you try to snatch his phone and he holds you at arm’s length. 

“Your dad would hate to see this, wouldn’t he?” He taunts. “You want help, you got it. You bring your fine ass and I’ll bring Bucky.” 

[pwnyta]

LET LOOSE i wanna hear your thoughts on the writers!!

MAN FUCK THE WRITERS. (tl;dr tbh)

Not really I do like the stories over all but especially with their treatment of female characters on the show... I just wanna strangle them... just a little! Maybe a small dose of no oxygen will clear up their brain fog!

Besides Shannon dying right as she seemed to have made an epiphany that could have had her grow as a character, Nadia dying just as she and Sayid to be happy, Danielle dying without any fanfare, Naomi just getting executed without anyone really caring...

KATE was a good character when she wasnt egregiously forced into her Jack<-->Sawyer bullshit... and she was forced into that SO FUCKIN MUCH... I remember complaining to my therapist about it (cuz she also liked LOST)... Like when she was with Clair she could be the strong protector or she was with Sun and she was a good friend to Sun... or when she was with Cassidy and they were fun little criminals together... or with Sayid just off doing shit and judging bitches. LMAO Ya know... just Kate with the girlies.

But then she'd be like 'ooh Jake!' 'Oh Sawyer~' and it would just change so much depending on which dude was with her more... like which ever one was not paying her attention was the one she wanted.

AND IT WAS SO MUCH WORSE WITH JULIET JOINING IN. UGH I know Kate and Juliet became friends after but... *STRANGLE*

THEN CLAIRE!!! UGH!! Honestly I woulda been fine with Claires story if Kate wasnt stuck in that dogshit love triangle.. she was young sorta forced into a pregnancy without like any help cuz her boyfriend was an asshole... but her going darkside... coulda been fun but (like with Sayid) it just didnt have enough time to cook and wasted her screentime not really doing much. BOO.

Ana Lucia and Libby is a bit more... understandable & woulda been somewhat excusable had it not been for everything else. I think they (at least Libby) got written off because something with the actors? But... like they didnt need to have Ana Lucia fuck Sawyer before she died and then have no one really care too much after... like Libby got some care since she was connected to Hurley and we love Hurley...

But like Eko didnt get much with Ana Lucia after she died, Sayid didnt despite their weird tension... UGH.

Sun was the only female character I think had a mostly satisfying run. Good for... if anyone deserves it.

Charlotte died & I wasnt connected enough to Daniel to care that much, Nikki(WHO?) died and it was mostly a funny/dark joke, Danielle died and the only one who got to care was Alex who also died shortly after (at least have Sayid and/or Claire also care), Ana Lucia died and like no one cared except Eko who also dies shortly after (ghost Ana Lucia pops up so), Libby died...

Kate Juliet Sun Penny Libby Nikki Charlotte Shannon Rose etc are all pretty much entirely wrapped up in some dudes story... IDK its just kinda annoying..

Suns story was very good regardless and Penny wasnt on the island and she was still cool regardless BUT STILL.

Theres also the treatment of non-white characters that are super questionable. ESPECIALLY MICHAEL OMG... (THE FANDOM DOESNT GET A PASS WITH ME FOR MICHAEL EITHER JSYK! AINT NO WAY YOURE GOING TO TELL ME MICHAEL WAS ANNOYING AFTER, WHILE ON A BOAT IN THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE, A GROUP OF MEN KIDNAPPED HIS CHILD AT GUNPOINT. THE VITRIOL THAT MAN GETS FOR ACTING COMPLETELY REASONABLY IN THE CIRCUMSTANCES HE WAS IN GRINDS MY NERVES. AND ESPECIALLY HAVING LOCKE NOT BE A PART OF THE WALT GOING MISSING THING IS EGREGIOUS... BUT...we'll move on, im totally normal about it.)

But I mean it was the early 2000s whatre ya gonna do I guess...

Danielle and Kate I feel the most about cuz they were/could be so GOOD. SO JUICY.

(I also lament Ekos potential because he was so good... I really wish the actor stayed longer at least I get to watch him go crazy in OZ as Adebisi.... tho its not quite as pleasant...)

All this isnt even getting into the treatment of the (female/poc) actors...

ANYWAYS I LOVE LOST...

edit- I forgot to mention Ilana.... Which was also just horrendous. Why did she die like that... (admittedly I did laugh because it was just so sudden...)Whyd Jacob let that happen to her...(or more importantly the writers... wtf.)

[arrowflier]

i wish you'd write a fic where mickey reluctantly goes on a picnic with ian (maybe with their baby girl and dog?)

This is a great excuse for a little more of my new headcanon where they pick up a couple strays. I have to apologize, though, because this is probably not as fluffy as you imagined—there’s a pretty heavy backstory that’s hinted at. I tried to add some cute things too, though!

For the curious, first mention of their oldest daughter Brit (Mickey calls her Brat) here and of the dog, Basil, here.

---

“You want to go on a what?” Mickey asks incredulously as his husband putters around their small kitchen, putting together sandwiches.

“A picnic, Mick,” Ian replies, his head currently stuck inside the open fridge. He pops out long enough to give Mickey a look. “And don’t act surprised, I told you yesterday.”

Mickey holds out his arms, palms up. “Do I look like I knew this was comin’?” He moves out of the way as Ian closes the fridge and rounds the counter, lunchmeat in hand. “I didn’t know you were serious, man!”

Ian sighs, laying ham on bread and reaching for a knife to spread the mustard. “What’s the problem, huh?” he asks. “You don’t want to have a nice day with us?”

“Hey, don’t you do that,” Mickey commanded, pointing a finger at him. “Excuse me if I don’t want to take a toddler and fucking dog to a damn tourist trap.”

Ian rolls his eyes as he finishes the sandwiches, setting them neatly in a piece of tupperware that Mickey doesn’t remember owning. “It’s not a tourist trap, Mick,” he says patiently, “it’s a park. And your daughter wants to go.”

Mickey scoffs, trying not to soften too noticeably. Ian knew he always gave in when he used the d word. “Yeah, she wants to go cause someone showed her a bunch of pictures yesterday.”

“I was trying to keep her occupied, Mick,” Ian says for what feels like the millionth time. “She just saw her mom in the hospital, she needed a distraction.”

“That bitch has never been her mom,” Mickey starts to respond, and Ian glares at him.

“Told you not to say that shit,” he says lowly, casting his eyes around for their daughter. “She doesn’t need to hear it.”

“Relax, she’s in her room,” Mickey tells him, but he stops anyway. Well, stops the name-calling, at least. “But you know I didn’t agree to lie to her, Ian, that’s all your brilliant idea.”

Returning to the fridge to grab a few cold pops, Ian blows out a breath. “And I told you, we’re not lying. We’re just…,” he stands there for a second with the door open, considering, before finishing with, “we’re just holding back a bit until she’s older.”

Mickey’s mouth is twisted, but when Ian comes closer to put a hand against his face, it relaxes. “Just for a little bit, Mickey, ok?” Ian asks softly. “Just let her think she’s a normal kid for a little longer. Longer than we got to.”

And fine, Mickey could do that. He nods.

Ian smiles, pecks him on the lips and pulls away. “Good,” he says. “I’ll go get Brit, you get Basil, and we’ll get on our way in a few minutes.”

Mickey stands still in the corner of the kitchen for a long moment, listening to his husband call out for their kid. “We’re goin’ on a picnic,” he mutters to himself. “With a kid and fucking dog. How the hell did I end up here?”

He whistles, hears the patter of small paws against tile as said dog comes careening around the corner from the living room. Basil comes to a sudden stop against Mickey’s legs and drops his rear to the floor with a thump, tail whipping rhythmically against the wooden counter. Mickey sighs as he grabs the leash off the hook on the wall behind him and bends down to attach it to the dog’s bright red collar.

“At least you’re not wearing a fucking sweater,” he tells Basil solemnly, and sputters when Basil rewards him with a lick across the face.

—

They’re almost there on the L, Brit clinging to Ian’s leg on the crowded train and Mickey trying not to let on that he has a 40 lb dog hidden in giant fucking tote bag between his feet. Thankfully, Basil is great at playing dead—Mickey taught him that one himself—so the biggest difficulty will be carrying him out without getting a hernia.

The kid tugs at Mickey’s pant leg as the train rounds a corner, and he looks down to see her grinning up at him through wisps of dark hair that escaped her messy pigtails.

“Are we goin’ to see the baby?” she asks excitedly, lisping a bit as her tongue hits the space where her front teeth used to be.

“Uh,” he says, looking to Ian for guidance. Ian is pretending not to listen, though, the bastard. He looks back down into his daughter’s dark eyes.

“Not today, Brat,” he tells her, and keeps going before she can pout. “We told you it’s gonna be a while, yeah? Your sister’s not done bakin’ yet.”

“Like a cake!” she exclaims. Mickey sees a little old woman smiling at them, and wonders if she’d think it was so cute if she knew half the story.

“Yeah, like a cake, kid,” he agrees.

“But where are we goin’?” she asks next.

Mickey absently tucks a longer strand of loose hair behind her ear, and answers, “Remember that place your dad was showin’ ya the other day?”

She gives a delighted gasp just as the announcement is made for Lake Station, and when she sees him bend to hoist up the bag they’ve hidden Basil in, she dashes for the now-open doors.

“Hey, wait!” he calls after her, but Ian beats him to the door with his long, unburdened stride, catching up to her quickly and leaving Mickey to deal with everything else.

Mickey looks down into the open tote, and Basil blinks an eye open to look back from where he’s curled around the container holding their lunch.

“Typical,” Mickey mutters, and hobbles off the train in pursuit.

—

Thankfully, the kid was more interested in seeing the gardens and the lakefront than any of the crowded, no-dogs-allowed areas, so after a few quick pics of her fooling around in front of the Bean, they get settled in with minimal fanfare toward the center of the park.

Mickey is leaning back on his elbows on the ratty blanket they brought, picking at his sandwich and watching his little girl run wild over the grass as Ian and Basil chase her, their own meals half-eaten and forgotten beside him. He watches as Ian catches her, the two of them falling to the ground in a tangle of limbs as Basil’s leash wraps around them, the dog running circles around his humans. Mickey laughs when Ian tries to stand and promptly falls back over, having to stop and free his damn giraffe legs from the leash before he tries again.

Ian kisses their daughter on the head and hands the dog off to her as he gets up, heading back toward Mickey. There’s no need to worry about whether she can handle it—Basil may weigh almost the same as her, but the dog had always been careful with her since she came to stay with them more than a year ago.

“This isn’t so bad, is it?” Ian asks softly as he approaches. He collapses onto the blanket next to Mickey, just close enough to press their legs together. He lets a hand rest between them, and Mickey shifts his weight off one elbow so he can take it, twining their fingers together. His eyes are on their children, the human and the furred, but he can see Ian smile from the corner of his eye.

“Nah,” he murmurs quietly. “Guess not.”

Ian leans in and presses a kiss to the side of his neck, then to his cheek. “Just think,” he whispers into Mickey’s ear, “in a few months we’ll have another one.”

Mickey can’t help but snort. “Yeah, if we can keep her incubator from runnin’ off and overdosing again before then.”

Ian nudges him with his knee, and Mickey looks over with a raised eyebrow. “Hey, I didn’t call her a bitch this time,” he points out, and Ian rolls his eyes.

“It’s progress, I guess,” he relents, settling more firmly into Mickey’s side. They sit together, holding hands, and watch Brit and Basil play under the bright noon sun.

“I want to come back once she’s here,” Ian mentions. “The new baby." He turns his gaze to Mickey, eyes soft. "All of us together, as a family.”

“Fuck no,” Mickey vetoes immediately. “You want to do all this with a noisy infant in a shit-filled diaper, you get to do it yourself.”

“We’ll talk about it later,” Ian responds, and Mickey groans.

Because he knows if Ian wants it, he’ll be dragging a 40 lb dog, a hyperactive child, and a newborn around the damn park before he can even threaten divorce.

But as he watches his daughter walk their dog on the green grass, his husband reclining beside him on a soft blanket, the sun shining down on him, he thinks about adding a baby carrier to the picture, just there next to Ian. And he has to admit that it might not be too bad.

[wajjs]

GuyHal prompt: one is injured and the other figures out the actually like this asshole somewhere around helping them wash their hair.

 There are laws in this universe. There are laws in all of the universes. Probably. Most likely. Well. If there aren’t, they have yet to be discovered or something.

 Thing is, there are laws in this universe, a whole lotta them, but they aren’t the ones that matter right now. No, the law that is relevant is one that’s well known among Green Lantern Corps:

 If it’s human and named Hal Jordan, he will return.

 No matter how. Or when. Or why.

 Which is what’s happening right now: the predicted comeback of the weathered hero. It’s not without the expected dramatics and the fanfare, the feeling of gladness spreading through them because if something ever gets Jordan for good, then that something is terrible, abso-fucking-lutely awful news.

 Jordan is back and only marginally fucked up, which is good. At least he didn’t die this time. He looks like a huge mess that was chewed up and spit back out, with his hair longer than the last time he was seen. It goes past his shoulders which, well, is a look in and out of itself, and he has one arm in a glowing green cast that goes up to his elbow.

 Another injury that’ll be a bitch on rainy days.

 “Glad ya could make it,” he says when he gets closer to the man and Hal’s mouth twitches into an almost smile.

 “You say that like you doubted I would.”

 Hal’s eyes are warm, the warmest brown, and Guy has always liked that. There are enough blue-eyed bastards in the hero community as it is.

 Hal’s eyes are brown and warm. Guy has to give him that, at the very least.

 “Nah,” and they are grinning as Guy taps Hal’s shoulder with his knuckles, not enough strength behind the gesture to make the man sway to the side. “Doubt ya? Never.”

[Read the rest on AO3]

[missamyrisa2]

Story Archive: The Humbling of Kim Storm

Going way back in time again, to when I used to take commissions. By coincidence, three people had requested stories with a similar old woman tickler so I decided to make it a miniseries with the same tickler. This story stars a rough and tough wrestler brought down by tickles and spanks. 

~

Kim Storm threw back her long blonde locks and crossed her arms tightly, her sinewy muscles straining against a particularly tight pink leotard. A superior smirk embraced her full lips, as a set of ice-blue eyes looked down with utter contempt from a six-foot vantage point. In the entire league, few could strike a pose so menacing, so intimidating that some of Kim’s opponents had actually staggered back and fallen out of the ring before the match started. She flexed a bulging bicep muscle, and made a mocking kissy face – her signature sneer, and finished with pure sass. “What’s a matter? You afraid I might hurt ya?” “Only thing I think that mirror is afraid of is you popping out of that top and shattering the poor thing”, bellowed a booming voice from across the room. Larose walked up and whacked her clipboard against Kim’s chest. “Damn girl. Forget the chairs and lead pipes, you could crack a skull between those babies.” Kim laughed and playfully punched Larose on the arm. “Shut up, bitch. You come here to watch me dominate that putrid pile of puny puss?” “Oh, very nice banter there Kimalicious. You been saving that diamond since the match was on the board?” “Nah. Thought it last night while I was plowing Tony. Anyway, you sure you’re alright with me decimating your old partner?” “Girl, you just better not lose, cuz I’ll come in and finish her, then whomp your yellow-headed ass.” Larose called as she walked out of the dressing room. Kim flexed and stretched, and put on her hot-pink lipstick to finalize her pre-match ritual. She had told herself since she woke up that this match would be a breeze, but Kim just couldn’t shake a sensation of dread from deep within her stomach. Angelique navigated through the crowds of roughnecks, rednecks, and no-necks with a meandering finesse. Her loose grey hair bobbed through with ease, at least until one surly drunk hillbilly took offense at the sight of the old battle-axe. “The fuck? We at the retirement home or what?” He cawed at no one in particular. “Hey granny! I think you got lost. See, the bridge game is atAAAAAAAHH!” His witty repartee was stopped dead as Angelique calmly reached out, caught his index finger and twisted. “You be kind to your elders little boy.” She spoke sweetly, her aged lips curling into a rather unnerving smile as she retracted her hand. The tipsy man mumbled expletives as he vanished into the crowd, and no one else dared to utter a word as Angelique stepped towards the seats. She carefully sat down, ensuring her long black dress was properly positioned, and retrieved a photo from her purse. A picture of Kim Storm smiled at the old woman, decked out in her battle regalia – the trademark tight pink leotard, which barely contained her massive chest. Angelique clicked her tongue in disapproval, folded the picture away, and watched patiently for the match to start. Kim arrived to her usual fanfare, a grooving metal jam by a local act named Needle Toxin. Her pudgy manager and entourage of trash-talking boy toys followed closed by.  Tiny Tina opted for old-school hip hop, bounding down the aisle towards the ring as the MC spat lyrics about protecting your neck. Despite the usual ever-so-clever humor applied to the moniker “tiny”, Tina was in fact very small, and notorious for toppling wrestlers three times her size with relentless attacks. The crowd cheered for their favorite and jeered the other woman. Kim engaged in her usual tactics, striking a pose while threatening her opponent. She still didn’t think much of Tina, who arrived in a purple tutu that was hardly intimidating, and wore her dark black hair into an unflattering bun. Tina’s stage presence was classic sandbagging, appearing feeble and asking the crowd for help to beat the big bad bully. Kim couldn’t help but hear one voice rise against the crowd. It was raspy, but carried through with a strange magnitude. “Put some clothes on, you harlot! You’re an embarrassment to yourself and others!” She ignored the insults at first, twisting her lips up in a mocking response to the crowd as she scanned around, looking for the source. “Tramp!” But before Kim could zero in on her heckler, the match began. Tina struck a pose with her arms out, then looked fearful, as Kim stepped forward in her big pink boots. “Pwease don’t hurt me!” She begged. Kim chuckled darkly and flexed an arm. “No promises, halfstack.” She lunged and easily caught her opponent, spinning Tina around and slamming her backside down on the mat. The crowd ignited like a wildfire. Kim had never caused such an immediate reaction, and as her adrenaline surged, she once again heard that rattling voice. “Shame on you!” This time, Kim turned, and just as she registered that the words were coming from the bag of bones with long grey hair, Angelique was in the ring, an index finger pointed at the tall wrestler. “How dare you come in here, dressed like that and hurting that poor girl? Why don’t you pick on someone your own size!” Kim laughed, though her face showed no joy. “Get the fuck outta here you mini-wheat!” She shouted, her face in disbelief as she looked to the referee, who shrugged and gestured for everyone to continue. Tina gathered herself up, barely shaken by the first attack. She had trained for months to go limp into Kim’s floorslam, and it paid off well. But for the moment, she feigned injury, watching the scene play out. Angelique stepped towards Kim, snatched her by the leg, and flipped the tall woman back in a fluid motion. “That’s your first warning, missy! Three times and I’ll rosy up those cheeks!” Kim grunted in anger and hopped to her feet. Amazingly, the old lady was back in her seat, hands politely folded. She scratched her head, and then felt herself flying into the ropes. Tina launched from the floor like a runaway missile, and was pummeling Kim from shoulder to back. The towering blonde tried in vain to shake the tiny girl off, but had little success. “You big meanie! I’ll teach you!” Kim yelped as Tina yanked on her long locks, moving to hang from them like a rope. At this Kim had enough and threw her weight back, falling onto Tina. “That’s not a regulation move! You’re a disgrace! A menace!” The heckling continued, and Kim tried to tune Angelique out as she struggled to keep Tina pinned. The small girl wormed her way out, flung herself into the ropes, and came back swinging in an instant. Kim thrust her arm out and easily clotheslined her opponent, ending the attack swiftly. Kim strutted for the crowd, and cried out as she suddenly felt her face hitting the ground. Angelique’s voice was suddenly near once more. “I warned you dearie!” She spoke matter-of-factly, throwing back her hair. “Now you’re going to be punished!” The buxom wrestler rolled her eyes and moved to grab the old lady, but found her arms pinned back effortlessly. Stuck to the floor, Kim was amazingly pulled up like a rag doll and flipped around, falling down on her stomach. Angelique sat on Kim’s back, caught one leg and pulled, and used her other hand to catch one of Kim’s arms. “Now say you submit!” She rasped, her grip ironclad. Kim shouted “Fuck you, grey box!” “Such a filthy mouth! You’ll get double for that!” Her grip tightened, as she pulled a leg and arm up. “Submit, young lady!” The wrestler tried to roll Angelique off, and found herself completely helpless. She finally relented, screaming. “Submit!! I submit!!” The old woman smiled softly, but didn’t release her prisoner. “Oh Tina. Tina!” she called, as the small girl gathered herself up. “Could you be a sweetie pie and hold this for me?” She asked, nodding to Kim’s arm. Tina grinned and positioned herself on Kim’s back, keeping both arms down with her feet. “Now then. Ah.” Angelique continued, and turned herself so she was facing Kim’s posterior. Kim felt a tapered finger gently caress her butt, and her eyes went wide. “No! Not that!! Please!!” “You had your chance my dear. You can’t expect to come out here, dressed like that, acting like a menace and not expect there to be consequences. You want to act like a child, I’m going to treat you like one!” In the seconds that followed Kim found herself catching the eyes of her friends and family. First she saw Larose, who looked mortified, her mouth agape in shock. Next she saw Toni, their visage of an undefeatable wife crumbling. And so many friends, their faces red with embarrassment. Kim grunted as Angelique’s hand came down hard and fast, whooshing through the air. The crowd audibly gasped, their hands over their mouths, all watching in utter disbelief. The announcer fell silent, just as enamored at what had unfolded in the ring. The sound of spankings filling the arena. Kim squirmed and squealed, the aged palm striking her ass again and again. Every five hits or so, Angelique would tenderly trace her fingertip along the curves of Kim’s leotard, easing the burn in her reddened posterior. Then the spanks would begin again. After thirty strikes, Angelique offered a reprieve. “Tina. Can you reach behind you and grab something on Kim’s sides?” “Yes, ma’am, I can. What would you like me to grab?” “Her tickle spots.” “NO!!” Kim cried out, but her protests ended in a wave of laughter as Tina’s tiny soft fingers briskly stroked and poked Kim’s muscular sides from her ribs to her underarms. The material of the leotard made the brushing motions unbearable, as Tina traced every intricate curve of Kim’s body. Those tiny motions penetrated her muscular exterior like a knife through butter, feathery strokes making her by gyrate madly as silly giggles tumbled from her lips. Moments later, the spanking resumed, with Angelique warning Kim to quiet down. “Take it like a woman! If you cry, I’ll give you something to cry about!” But Kim couldn’t contain her tears. The tickling was relentless, as Tina took an endless tour of Kim’s ribs, sides, and underarms, and giggling with glee when she discovered just how ticklish Kim’s sideboobs were. Those impossibly soft fingertips traced and poked and stroked her chestular curves endlessly. “Aww. Is Kimmy a widdle tickawish? Goochie goo, widdle baby!!” She teased. All the while, Angelique made Kim’s butt thoroughly blush, her experienced palms working every square millimeter. When Kim wailed for them to stop, Angelique put her hands on her hips. “That’s it, young lady. Now you’re really going to have something to cry about.” She said sternly, and pushed back her long duster sweater. Tina looked over her shoulder as Angelique retrieved two instruments attached to her wide leather belt – a paddle, and a brush. The old woman handed the brush to Tina and nodded, then ran the wooden paddle against her palm. Tina touched the bristles of the brush, and they felt like a bed of stiff feathers. She giggled and lightly touched it to Kim’s side. Then she merrily began scrubbing upwards, getting into those smooth tough armpits. Back and forth the brush went, scrubbing as she cooed “Scrubba scrubba scrubba!” Kim screamed with laughter, her bulging muscles useless to fend off the tickles as she was made to laugh like a little girl, and writhed under the two ladies. “It’s a special brush. And this is a special paddle for very naughty girls.”  Angelique brought up her paddle, and the audience went wild, now cheering for the old woman. A hush fell as she brought her instrument down, the whistle of the paddle filling the room as it connected with Kim’s behind. She cried out, and laughed again as Tina gleefully worked her toy up and down Kim’s sides testing every rib. She felt as though a thousand tiny bugs were crawling up her body, tickling every last nerve. The sensation along with the stinging of her behind seemed to compliment and amplify one another. “Now *whack!* are you going to be *whack!* a good *tickle tickle!* girl? *whack!*” Kim fell limp, her body giving out in resistance. “Yes…I promise to be good…” Her face was streaked with tears, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. At long last, she felt the old lady and small girl rise up, and help her to her feet. The referee appeared looked around, shrugged, and held Angelique’s hand up in the air. The crowd cheered unanimously as the woman replaced her instruments under her sweater and slowly walked out the ring. As she exited, she retrieved the photo from her purse and smiled as Kim faded away into portrait of a young blonde woman in a salon, bubbly and with an exposed midsection under a tiny crop top. She clicked her tongue and murmured, “Oh Great Tickle Beast. You certainly keep me busy.” Tiny Tina however, would quickly rise to the top of the tournament as every wrestler feared what was called her fairy godmother. And Kim would forever face opponents ready to exploit her newly exposed weaknesses, facing defeat by spanking and tickling time and time again.

[auraunbound]

Today was a big day. Violet had called a meeting with her prospective spokesperson, asking her trainer to take the day off. The two stood in the training room, and the heiress had two large metal cases with her.

“Well, my dear Lily, it seems my investment in you has paid off. Jet tells me that your performance has been exemplary.”

“Thought I told ya’ to stop callin’ me ‘dear’. But yeah, been goin’ pretty well.”

“Yes, well she says that she believes you are ready.” Violet pressed a button on one of the cases, and it hissed open, revealing what appeared to be some kind of skeletal frame, among other things.

“Go on, your weapon awaits.”

Lily was breathless. She knew that this day would come eventually, but she didn’t expect it so soon, or with such little fanfare. Delicately, she reached out to grab it. She slipped one hand into a gauntlet, and the rest of the rig snapped on autonomously. Her fingers flexed, testing out the joints. Felt almost like she wasn’t wearing anything at all. She expected the tanks at her hips to be heavier, but they surprisingly had a nice balance to them.

“Pasque Arms’ newest prototype, the Heat Knuckle Mk1. We’re workshopping the name. I take it you like it?”

“Too right. Fits like a damn glove. Can’t wait to give it a spin.”

“Well, now seems like as good a time as any, right?” With a sadistic grin, Violet slapped the button on the other case, revealing a massive, clockwork greatsword. The heiress hefted her weapon with a grand flourish, then tapped on the jewel in the center of her necklace. A shimmering shield glossed over her form. She then tossed a similar device to the other, and slid her goggles over her face.

She caught it deftly, glaring at her employer.

“The fuck’s goin’ on, Pasque?”

“I am prepared to give you your license today, provided you can prove yourself by besting me in a duel.”

That was definitely not what Lily was expecting. It forced her to take a moment and process what she’d just heard. Her life’s dream was within reach, and all she needed to do was lump up on her boss? After some thought, it seemed like the only option before her was to fight like hell.

In one motion, she clicked on her shield and lunged forward with a right cross. Her boss dipped back, bringing up the hilt of her blade to parry the strike.

“Fighting dirty eh?! Good! That’s the instinct that’ll keep you alive out there!” Violet whipped her sword around in a broad swipe.

Lily ducked the strike, following in with a quick uppercut to the torso, then a high jab and a low hook. The first two strikes barely missed, but the third found purchase, creating space for her to push her offense. A flurry of punches, some dodged, some landing, was enough to start driving the heiress back.

Violet was doing her best to keep up with the other’s fists, with mixed results. The one downside to a weapon as large as hers was that it was far less maneuverable. That is, unless you plan around your weakness. She allowed the blade to dip toward the ground, and as she slipped a punch, a click of her trigger ignited all cylinders along the blade, blasting it forward in an otherwise impossibly fast swing. The blow caught the boxer by surprise, sending her flying back several feet and crashing into the ground.

Lily grunted as she rose to her feet. They may have had training shields on, but that still hurt like a bitch. She wouldn’t let that trick get her a second time though.

She was already rushing back in. Lily knew that she’d be more disadvantaged if she was further away. Closing the gap was vital. More blasts from her opponent, this time aimed as something of a ranged barrage. Time to test out her new gear. As she closed the distance, she leapt into the air and extended her arms, a river of flame flowing from the knuckles.

Violet turned her blade to fan the flames away, keeping her from getting burned but leaving her open to the true strike.

Lily came down with an overhead kick, leading straight into another combo. A quick few punches land before she flipped away from the retaliation.

The heiress was a bit faster on the draw this time though. Like the flip of a switch, a hum filled the room, and an unusually strong force started to pull at everything in the area. The cases started to slide, but more importantly, the still midair Lily found herself flying back toward her opponent.

“What th-,” she started to stammer out before being interrupted by the massive sword crashing into her body. The blow knocked her back, but the strange force pulled her back in just in time for yet another swing. Again and again, like a human paddle ball, Lily was helplessly juggled in the air.

“Don’t tell me you’re giving up now! Fight back!” The onslaught was relentless, but this was meant to be a trial by fire. This city wouldn’t wait for the training wheels to come off. They needed to be ripped off as soon as possible.

Lily was getting thoroughly battered, but she was also formulating an idea. On the next swing, she contorted around so that the bottoms of her feet landed on the edge of the blade. She kicked off with the swing, sending herself flying toward the walls of the room. Pushing off into the well of gravity, she shot like a rocket toward her opponent. She saw the woman preparing for another swing, so she twisted again, dropping to the ground and sliding under the strike. As she passed, Lily stuck out her arm to knock the other’s legs out from under her.

Suddenly, Violet was no longer attached to the ground. Instead, she was falling rapidly toward it. She tried desperately to get in a swing in retaliation, pulling the trigger on her blade once again. The swing went wide, though it did succeed in turning her over so she landed on her back rather than her face.

The gravitational force was still in play, so Lily went with it, turning back toward her employer and dropping down to pin her to the ground. It was taking a lot of strength to keep herself from falling flat on her face, but that meant that she’d be equally difficult to remove.

The heiress stared up at her protege, dumbfounded. In such short a time, she was able to recognize and adapt to her most potent secret weapon. She could see the fire in the other woman’s eyes, a burning desire to succeed at any cost. After a brief moment, she smiled. A soft chuckle left her lips, and the humming stopped. The weight immediately left Lily’s body, and she started to sit up.

“Congratulations, Lily White. Welcome to your new career as a bounty hunter.”

[fireinmywoods]

the heart of the matter (is Leonard McCoy)

Followers...friends. I come to you today, hat in hand, to ask for your support in a certain fandom matter, a trifling concern of little real consequence which nevertheless has been driving me absolutely cross-eyed bonkers for some years now.

Simply put: can we please all agree that Bones is the heart of the Enterprise???

In AOS, I mean. I’m not aware of any debate over this when it comes to TOS, where the roles of the triumvirate have always been explicit, though there are a few different ways to identify them:

Spock = logos = superego = head

Bones = pathos = id = heart

Kirk = ethos = ego = soul

So clear! So clean! So universally accepted by Trek fandom at large!

Oh, but things get murkier in AOS, and there are plenty of posts floating around which suggest that it’s Kirk, not McCoy, who serves as the heart in the Kelvin timeline. Even the writers of the first two AOS films have outright stated that their interpretation of the triumvirate had the original roles switched, with Kirk as the highly emotional one and McCoy as the arbiter between Kirk’s passion and Spock’s logic. It’s true that this technically counts as a Word of God pronouncement by the actual creators of 2/3 of the series thus far, which some would argue renders it canon. However, it’s equally true that those same creators also felt that Kirk was a fuckboi and that Benedict Cumberbatch wonderfully embodied their vision for Khan Noonien Singh, so honestly, who gives a hot hollerin’ fuck what those dingdongs think. This seems as justified a time as any to invoke Death of the Author, and in fact, it’s my firm belief that despite the writers’ intentions, Star Trek and Into Darkness both support the original triumvirate breakdown.

Under the cut you’ll find a long-winded and self-indulgent ~*~character analysis~*~ of the Kelvin-timeline incarnations of Jim Kirk and Leonard “Bones” McCoy, reviewing why Leonard is still unmistakably the heart, unpacking what the hell Jim’s deal is, and finally taking a look at some key examples from canon, because ya girl believes in showing her work.

Let’s get down to business.

[A quick warning, as this is starting to spread beyond my own followers: if you don’t like McKirk as a romantic pairing, you ain’t gonna like part IV, so I’d bow out before then or just take your leave now.]

i. Leonard

Independent of Jim’s characterization, it should be blindingly obvious that Leonard is the heart. He’s by far the most nakedly emotional of our seven core crew members, a trait we see writ large and small throughout the films. He’s reactive; he’s passionate; he’s humane. He cares, first and foremost.

Not about Starfleet, of course. Leonard doesn’t give a damn about playing the game or advancing his career, or even really about the Enterprise’s mission - he has no desire to explore strange new worlds, he’ll pass on seeking out new life and new civilizations, and he spends half his time trying to convince everyone else that boldly going where no man has gone before is a great way to die horribly. Fuck exploration, fuck space, and fuck the Federation while we’re at it. Leonard is perhaps the most improbable of the Enterprise’s senior officers for the simple reason that he seems to resent everything about the job.

Well. Almost everything.

See, what Leonard cares about is people. He cares about their lives, about their stories, about their hopes and dreams, about their suffering. That’s why he entered and has stayed in an extremely taxing caring profession, and it’s why he’s still on the Enterprise despite his incessant bitching about everything they do. He wouldn’t trust anyone else to take care of the crew he’s become so attached to, and he finds fulfillment in helping the people they encounter out there in the nightmare of space.

In every timeline, Leonard McCoy defines himself by what he can do for others: the pain he can ameliorate, the wounds he can heal, the diseases he can cure, the small amounts of good he can bring to a galaxy filled with so much absolute horseshit. Unlike most of his colleagues, he’s not motivated by curiosity or an adventurer’s spirit or a burning desire to make sense of the universe. (Fuck the universe, too, as a matter of fact.) Instead, he’s driven by the incredible depths of his compassion and empathy and concern for the people he serves alongside and those they meet along the way.

Sure sounds like the heart to me.

ii. Jim

I actually totally get why some people characterize Kelvin-timeline Jim as the heart. He’s quite literally a different man than the original timeline’s Kirk, and he definitely has more of the pathos qualities to him. Early on, he’s a total spitfire, fierce and hot-blooded, quick to anger and other sharp-edged emotions we’re not used to associating with James T. Kirk. Even as he grows into himself and leaves some of those traits behind, he remains spontaneous, passionate, protective, and self-sacrificing - easy enough to mistake for the heart if you squint.

But let’s not confuse having a heart for being the heart. Sure, Jim is more openly emotional and reactive than his TOS counterpart, but there’s still a marked difference between the way he and Leonard express and act on their emotions.

AOS Jim definitely has a lot of feelings - big ones - but at the end of the day, he’s not driven by his heart. He’s driven by his gut.

Whenever there’s trouble, Jim makes a beeline right for the center of it. He’s impulsive as hell, rarely pausing to think past his first instinct, because he just wants to be doing something, no matter the odds, no matter what it costs him. He explicitly calls himself out on this in ST:ID when arguing with Spock: “I have no idea what I’m supposed to do. I only know what I can do.” He doesn’t have the patience or the constitution to sit and debate all the options, either internally or with his crew. If there’s a path forward from where he is, even a bad one, Jim’s gonna take it.

[Sidebar: One could make the case that the roots of Jim’s instinct to act reach back to his childhood traumas - canonically ignored abuse and neglect on the one hand, and the Tarsus IV famine and massacre on the other - but that’s a whole post on its own and we ain’t got all day here.]

Jim can’t not act, and while that gets him into a lot of trouble, it also saves lives. Sulu probably appreciated that Jim’s gut drove him to leap off Nero’s drilling platform without a moment’s hesitation after a man he’d only just met. He may have been a real shithead about it, but Jim’s impassioned insistence on going after the Narada and not wasting time on the possibility of a better option was key to saving Pike and Earth itself. And I don’t know why Spock was so surprised that Jim intervened to save him on Nibiru, considering that the reason they were there in the first place was because Jim couldn’t sit back and watch the Nibirans die when there was something his crew could do to help them, even if it meant risking a violation of the Prime Directive.

Jim is a good man with a big heart, and he cares about people, absolutely. But he cares most of all about Doing The Right Thing - which in the heat of the moment often translates to Doing Something, Anything, Hold My Beer.

iii. heart vs. gut (i.e., time for some receipts)

I think one of the main reasons Leonard and Jim’s characterizations get confused is because they both tend to act on instinct, only lightly informed by higher reasoning. However, I’d argue that their motivations and the nature of those actions are super distinct, and those distinctions remain relatively consistent throughout all three films. (And y’all know I really mean this shit if I’m out here calling ST:ID consistent.)

Jim is a big picture guy, figuratively and often literally heaving himself full-body into the mix of whatever problem the crew has encountered for lack of any better alternative. That energy propels the plots of all three films: the chaotic path he carves through the events of Star Trek and ST:ID, and the slightly calmer but still undeniably bananas course he charts for himself and his crew in the second half of Beyond.

As the heart, Leonard operates on a more micro level. His concern invariably lies with the individual people caught up in those grand events Captain Chaos is busy dragging them all through. While Jim’s zooming around flipping plot switches, Leonard can always be counted on to bring it back to the personal.

We frequently see this juxtaposed right there on film. Think of that slow pan through medbay in the first movie after the Narada’s ambush and the destruction of Vulcan: while Jim is stewing over what to do about the Big Bad, Leonard has stepped into the CMO role without fuss or fanfare to care for the wounded crew and traumatized survivors.

Or jump ahead to Beyond: during Krall’s attack on the Enterprise, there’s a gorgeous cinematic shot of Jim sprinting down the corridor with two crew members to take on the invaders - and then we cut to Leonard moving slowly through those same ghastly red-lit corridors, searching for casualties in need of help, visibly affected by what his scanner is telling him about the downed crewman he tries to save.

Actually, Beyond as a whole does terrific justice to each of their roles. (Perhaps because it was not written by dingdongs.) The first act finds Jim flailing around for a sense of purpose and forward momentum - an understandable consequence of a gut-driven character having stalled out for too long - and he ultimately gets his mojo back by spending the rest of the film careening through one insane seat-of-his-pants ploy after another. Meanwhile, in the quieter moments between all the mayhem, Leonard serves as the empathetic sounding board for both Jim and Spock as they struggle with deep emotionally charged secrets and Big Life Questions, helping them untangle their feelings and reminding them of the emotional attachments which are ultimately key to their respective decisions to stay on the Enterprise.

More examples, you say? Don’t mind if I do!

Star Trek

GUT: Jim hurtles around the Narada, improvising almost every step of the way and paying the price for his and Spock’s scheme in bodily harm, and ultimately succeeds in rescuing Pike. HEART: Leonard calls out for Jim as he runs into the transporter room, overwhelmed with relief that he’s made it back, and takes Chris Pike’s weight literally and figuratively onto his own shoulders to begin healing him while Jim runs back off to the center of the action.

Star Trek: Into Darkness

GUT: Jim argues with Leonard, Spock, and Scotty in quick succession as he’s preparing to drag them all off to Qo’noS, immune to their attempts to reason with him because, unraveled as he is by grief and pain, he can only focus on his visceral drive to Do Something. HEART: Unlike the others, Leonard is upset not about the larger moral questions of whether it’s right to go after John Harrison or bring torpedoes aboard the ship, but about the fact that Jim himself is hurt and hurting and won’t accept help.

GUT: Jim makes a snap decision to sacrifice himself by hurling his body against the warp core to realign it and save his crew. HEART: Shellshocked by the emotional grenade of his best friend’s death, Leonard suddenly realizes, through the haze of his own numbness and upswelling grief, that he might still be able to do something for this lonely radiation-ravaged body he’s been brought and the life it represents.

Star Trek Beyond

GUT: At the tail end of an improvised plan to out-maneuver Kalara, Jim quite literally shoots first and asks questions later, igniting a fuel tank and setting off an explosive series of events which he and Chekov just barely escape. HEART: The next time we see Leonard, Spock is opening up to him about Ambassador Spock’s death and his own plan to leave Starfleet for New Vulcan - and while he’s empathetic toward Spock (I can’t imagine what that must feel like), Leonard’s thoughts go immediately to the emotional impact of Spock’s plan on the other people he’s closest with. (I can see how that would upset [Nyota]. / I can tell you, [Jim]’s not gonna like that.)

GUT: Jim frantically strains to reach the final switch in the life support hub, believing that he’s going to die either way since the vent has already opened, but spurred on by the knowledge that his ability to move that switch is the only thing standing between Yorktown and annihilation. HEART: Knowing exactly what’s at stake, with the fate of the station and millions of lives hanging in the balance, Leonard’s greatest concern is that Jim won’t make it out in time.

iv. never bet against the heart

Let’s wrap this up with a deep dive on one of the absolute best examples of Leonard as the heart: his decision to sneak Jim onto the Enterprise in the first movie.

As relentlessly as I drag him for the, you know, poisoning and kidnapping aspects of that whole deal, there’s no denying that it is a god-tier heart move. Is it logical? Absolutely not. Is it really the right thing to do for either himself or Jim, as far as he knows at the time? Nope. It’s 100% the wrong choice for his own job security, reputation, and relationships with his fellow crew, and it’s almost guaranteed to get Jim into even worse trouble. Leonard is a smart dude who must understand that this course of action will likely end up coming back on them both in a real bad way. For someone who argues loudly and often in defense of self-preservation, this is a shockingly bad idea.

But none of that matters, because Jim shakes his hand and tells him to be safe with that horrible empty-eyed smile, and it gets him right in the heart, one-two-three.

One: sympathy, worry, and affection for Jim - his best friend, his wild and troublesome stray, his only family.

Two: guilt over adding onto Jim’s pain, and the instinctive urge to fix whatever‘s hurting him.

Three: fear of heading out into the unknown by himself, the agonizing uncertainty of not knowing what’s coming, craving for the security and reassurance Jim’s presence would give him.

“Dammit,” Leonard says, as his heart wins out over his brain. He knows this is a garbage plan, and he doesn’t care. His heart chooses Jim. That’s all that matters.

So he goes back for Jim, and to his own surprise it turns out that this Very Bad Idea was actually a Very Good Idea because Jim’s impulsive instincts end up saving Earth, and Leonard’s not in the habit of fixing what ain’t broke so he figures he may as well keep on chasing Jim’s crazy ass around the galaxy for a while, through jungles and off cliffs and into the goddamn afterlife when need be, until finally one day Jim’s gut drives him right into Leonard’s arms and he suddenly realizes that this is what his heart was choosing all those years ago: Jim’s wide terrified eyes, Jim’s voice breaking over his name, Jim’s hand pressing hard against his chest, reaching out for what’s his.

But that’s another story.

[magioftheseas]

Kazuichi & Yasuke

Summary: Souda Kazuichi’s FTEs in the SDR2 Protagonist Matsuda Yasuke AU. It’s also half and half but for more unfortunate reasons.

Rating: PG

Warnings: Language and references to violence.

Notes: For REASONS, I ended up writing Souda’s FTEs when I initially intended to write Sonia’s. I’m disappointed in myself too, but...hm. I enjoyed writing these. I think it’s fun (?) to write social events where the two parties just don’t get along and that doesn’t change by the end. It’s played seriously, and I’m curious how people will take it. But I wrote these close to the heart!

Read this fic among others HERE

Main story is HERE

Commission? Donate?

“Blue skies! Beautiful beaches! Babes! By all accounts, this should be a dream come true! So, why—why, why, why, why, WHY does a guy like YOU gotta be here?!”

“That’s fucking rude,” Matsuda scoffed. “All I’m doing is reading.”

“You keep staring!” Souda accused, shaking his fist in frustration. “And I can feel ya judging, too!! Are you EVER in a good mood?!”

In reality, Souda had been the one to constantly steal glances instead of looking at his own damn magazine. Matsuda, subsequently, had gotten annoyed by it. He really had thought if he focused on his own manga, it’d be fine even with the dipshit mechanic present, but he was a fool. He was a real fucking fool.

Although not as much an idiot as this guy...

“You’re judging!” Souda screeched. “I know you are! Why do you have it out for me?!”

“I don’t,” Matsuda grumbled. “I barely consider you at all.”

“T-That’s hurtful, man! Real hurtful!” Souda even sniffled, he was so hurt by it. “This is why you don’t have any friends!”

...I could leave. I could just...leave. He’s not going to follow me. I could just leave and go someplace quiet.

But, because there wouldn’t be any events if he just left, he was stuck.

Great...

Souda was still glaring at him. He was glaring pretty hard, but also pretty...desperately.

“Even if your face freezes like that, it won’t make you more intimidating,” Matsuda muttered. “Actually no matter what you do, you can’t change that.”

Souda froze immediately. Matsuda gives him a look, but before he can say anything more, the guy flees the scene.

Had the line being broken?

Guess I hit a nerve.

Souda had even abandoned his magazine. Matsuda doubted the guy had the brain capacity to retrieve it later, although he himself hesitates before plucking it off the ground. Thankfully, while it was a little crumbled, it wasn’t sticky. Or oily.

Hm.

He should probably return it.

--

The first thing Souda did upon opening the door was let out a shriek. The second thing he did was slam it in Matsuda’s face.

This fucking guy...

Matsuda took a deep breath and knocked once more on the door.

“Nobody’s here!” Souda’s voice came through muffled. “A-And even if there were somebody—you’re not welcome!”

“For fuck’s sake—I’m just here to give you back your magazine, not because I...” Matsuda bit his tongue, kneeling down. “You know what, I’ll just shove it under...”

“Wait-wait-wait!”

The door was almost flung open, Souda now looking frantic.

“Don’t do that!” he exclaims. “You’ll wrinkle it! You’ll mess with the illustrations! Hasn’t anyone taught you how to treat a magazine?!”

Matsuda straightened up, handing it over without much more fanfare. Souda does take it, but he continues to grumble.

“Seriously, you’re such a slob. That’s like, super unsexy to women. H-Haven’t you heard?”

Matsuda wordlessly glances past into the mechanic’s cottage. There are some miscellaneous gears and gizmos scattered across the floor. Some bottles of what looked to be motor oil. It certainly stank of motor oil.

“Oh, this old thing?” Souda asked, mistaking his staring for interest. He grins suddenly and it might’ve been the first time he’s smile like that at Matsuda. “It’s a lil vroom-vroom I’m working on! Pretty spiffy, huh?”

...spiffy? That’s...something only elderlies would use... Not to mention that’s not even the correct usage?

“I guess you mean it’s neat,” Matsuda muttered.

“I know right?!” Souda exclaimed excitedly. “It’s real neat! It’s gonna be a real wham bam when I’m finished!”

“Right...”

“Right, right!” Souda agreed, nodding frantically now. “You get it, you get it! I guess even a jackass like you still has a right eye for this kinda thing, Matsuda. Just this once, I’ll let you have a closer look! Come in! Don’t be a priss!”

He worked himself up as usual, but I guess this time he at least did so positively.

Mortifyingly curious as to how far this could go, Matsuda does step inside. Souda eagerly gestures to the lump of metal on the ground. Matsuda looks at it closely and—yet.

It’s a lump...of metal. Incredible.

“This baby is gonna go places when it’s done,” Souda sighs happily. “I won’t be able to test it—but I’m sure of it. It’s gonna go far, kid!”

Show him how to lie. You’re getting better all the time.

“I’m sure it will,” Matsuda replied, doing his best to give a decent nod of approval. Souda does preen, but just like that—Souda realizes himself. And he realizes Matsuda.

Specifically, he re-realizes that he and Matsuda don’t have the best relationship.

“You’re not just saying that to make fun of me, right?! You almost got me going, too!”

Although he still seems confused about the intricacies of said relationship.

“It’s nothing like that,” Matsuda waved his hand, shaking his head for good measure. Souda seemed unconvinced, much to his annoyance. “I was just curious.”

Except he really wasn’t. He was the kind of guy who had about as much interest in cars as he did in answering surveys. Souda’s eyes narrowed sharply in suspicion and, seriously, where did this guy get off on presuming so much shit about him?

Matsuda sighed.

Whatever. I delivered the magazine back.

“If I’m not welcome here, I’ll leave.”

He’s not sure what he expected when he turned on his heel. He might not have expected anything, and indeed nothing really happened. He walked out of the cottage, shutting the door behind him, and walked the rest of the way back in silence.

Pretty uneventful overall, but it was still something.

--

��H-H-Hey! Matsuda!”

He supposed he wasn’t really expecting to be called out. When he turned, however, he was already prepared.

“What is it? You better clarify because you’re on a different frequency than I am.”

“Eh? Come on, dude, it’s not like we’re speaking different languages here!” Souda huffed, shoving his hands into his jumpsuit pockets. “I’m just...trying to get yer attention. It’s...like...”

He’s slurring his words a bit.

“You made me feel bad, y’know,” Souda grumbled. “With the way you left. I’m just checking because the last thing I need is you having another reason to...”

“You really are convinced I have something against you, huh,” Matsuda droned, unimpressed. “Would you believe me if I told you that I really don’t care?”

Souda groaned, rolling his eyes.

“Of course you don’t care. You’re a jackass.”

He’s not wrong...but he’s also not right. Not caring goes both ways.

“Hm.” They’d just go in circles at this rate, so it was best to change tactics. “You’re...”

Aah, what to say? Not my type? Not really understanding? This guy...

“You’re here because you say you felt bad.”

“I thought you were supposed to be a genius or something,” Souda huffed. “Like...a brain guy, right?”

“Right.” That doesn’t mean I understand every irrational, idiotic choice a person makes. “I understand the physical sciences. Psychology, however, is its own thing.”

“I mean, I know that,” Souda said, sounding completely unconvincing. “It’s like—the difference between fixing and programming. I can fix a computer, but when it comes to all the typing, clicking, and trouble...finding... I don’t get that stuff.”

“Troubleshooting,” Matsuda corrected.

“Computers aren’t my thing anyway,” Souda went on, unbothered. “I’m more of a vehicle guy!” He lit up so easily. “Like! Vroom, vroom! Wham bam!”

He made other engine noises for that matter.

Matsuda would lie if he said he didn’t find it mildly amusing.

Any moment the two could have had was quickly ruined, however.

“Anyway! There! I spoke to ya!” Souda twisted away. “We’re good, then!”

...it’s not like I’m expecting an apology, but what a shitty fucking thing to just say. And to say loudly, at that.

“Argh! Not good?!” Souda flinched, cowering. “You’re giving me that awful judge-y look again! What is your PROBLEM?!”

For once, the glare was intentional and only intensified, making Souda crumble and whimper.

“C-Cut it out, seriously...! You’re going to make me cry!”

“Is that really my problem?” Matsuda asked coolly. “This is just how my face looks a lot of the time. I can’t control that but you could be less of a fucking coward.”

“I’m not...a coward,” Souda muttered, pulling down his beanie. “I-I’m not! You’re just... You’re such an ass! Seriously! Seriously! How the hell is someone like you—?!”

“Someone like me?” he prodded, eyes half-lidded. Souda recoils whenever he makes any attempt at coming closer. Sure, this dipshit is easily spooked and intimidated, but...

Is there more to it?

“Q-Quit it,” Souda squeaked. “S-Stooooop...”

It’s not...my appearance, is it?

Matsuda backed off anyway, playing with his hair to stave off the irritation. Fidgeting could only do so much.

“I really don’t get it,” Souda said, then, and it sounded almost morose. “It pisses me off so much that you’re the kind of guy that’s just...popular with girls.”

Matsuda pinched a lock of hair hard enough to dig his thumbnail into his finger pad. The pinch did little to soothe his nerves.

I’m more or less hopeless when it comes to tech. A wrench in my hand would only ever be used as a weapon. But, this guy...

“That’s definitely not my problem.”

He’s incredibly basic.

“Maybe you should just take more showers?”

“LIKE YOU’RE ONE TO TALK?!”

A basic bitch for sure.

“Hmm.”

“NO COMEBACK?!”

Matsuda stuck his tongue out, Souda screamed in frustration.

The rest went about as well as anyone could expect.

--

“This really is just the wooooorst,” Souda laments, sounding dangerously close to a sob. “For my first field trip ever, to have it be such a bust is just the woooorst.”

“First time?” Matsuda asked, only feigning curiosity as he flipped the page. He didn’t care, but any conversation was better than listening to more whining. All Matsuda did was sit down to read and he was too spiteful and stubborn to leave when he hadn’t done anything. “Skipped the one in middle school?”

The reason I didn’t go was to study, but for a guy like this...

“Huh? Oh, yeah...” Souda shrugged. “I uh, faked being sick and stayed home instead. Not like I could go with how poor my folks were—not like I wanted to go with how shitty my boring asshole classmates were. My old man was pissed though. Beat the shit out of me.”

“I guess overcompensation ran in the family,” Matsuda muttered, but Souda hadn’t heard him.

“He knew we couldn’t afford it, too,” he just went on. “We had this bike shop but like—not super, uh...”

“Profitable?” Matsuda guessed, to which he nodded along.

“Yeah, people just wanted to fix tires and pump air. We barely sold anything.” Souda sighed loudly before grinning and pointing to himself with a jerk of his thumb. “But! Yours truly still turned out to be a genius mechanic! From bikes to cars! Toys to appliances! You got it, I fix it!”

“You’d make a lot more money as a mechanic than a bike salesman,” Matsuda noted. “It’s a well-paying and sought-after service.”

“I’ve been taking apart and reconstructing things since I could walk,” Souda said proudly. “Even though my old man is just—hopeless!”

“Hopeless,” Matsuda echoed disinterestedly.

“That said, I was still looking forward to this trip,” Souda sighed again. “It sounds nice to go on a trip with friends and stuff, but...you and I are like...the furthest thing from friends.” He does perk up when he remembers, “I guess Hinata’s alright. He’s kinda cool. A real soul bro. Soul pal? Soul friend!”

In that case, why aren’t you seeking his company?

Matsuda’s not quite that petty. Not to mention how childish it’d make him sound while asking that aloud. It’s not like he has a problem with Souda and Hinata getting along.

Although...

Hinata has a thing for Komaeda. That might end up complicating that soul bromance or whatever down the line.

Not that it had anything to do with him.

“I have an unlikeable personality,” he just reminded Souda sardonically. “I didn’t come to Hope’s Peak expecting or wanting to make friends.”

The idea is just...absurd. I haven’t been able to connect with peers in over a decade, why the hell would that change now?

“I know!” Souda groused. “Which is why! A guy like you just shouldn’t be LIKED by girls! Who knows how you’d treat them! If you don’t watch yourself, your alarm clock’s gonna get modified into a ticking time bomb!”

“Try it, coward,” Matsuda snapped, making him falter back. “I fucking dare you.”

“E-Eep...! W-Why do you have to make such a scary face, Matsuda...?!”

“...it’s just how I look.”

Haaaah. This is exhausting. So...exhausting.

“Bad looks and a bad personality, but even you can admit I’m a genius, yeah?” Matsuda turned away. “When you’re smart, people flock to you either as a crutch or a springboard. Especially when you’re young.”

“I mean, I’m a genius too,” Souda grumbled. “I actually could just...modify clocks into bombs if I...really wanted to...”

“I want to change the very scope of neurology,” Matsuda went on, ignoring him this time. “I’m going to make it so that no person will ever be lost to us again.”

“Wait...you’re gonna like...cure death?” Souda asked, gawking. “T-That’s...dude...!”

Matsuda couldn’t help but smirk, all too aware of the growing alarm in the mechanic’s eyes.

“If you could just upload a person’s consciousness to a computer like a program... That’d change more than just our understanding of the brain. It’d challenge our understanding of humanity itself.”

Souda went pale.

“T-That’s, uh...”

“Of course it’s pretty unlikely,” Matsuda said, shaking his head. “And so absurdly sci-fi to the point of fantasy.”

But... It could have been possible at Hope’s Peak. Not on this stupid fucking island though.

“It was a joke. You’re supposed to laugh.”

Souda was left in stunned silence.

“I guess it was a bad joke,” Matsuda admits grumpily.

“Y-You know, I, uh... I just wanted to make a rocket ship someday,” Souda says, slowly and stupidly unsure. “But, you, uh... Your ambitions are fucking scary. Count me out.”

Just like that, Souda stood up and left. Without another word.

That was more or less what Matsuda learned to expect.

--

I really do just have a bad personality.

He knows this already, obviously. But it’s a fact that gets hammered in sometimes. Especially right now, when he sees Souda chatting amicably with Hinata. Souda’s wearing a smile that’s only been directed at Matsuda a couple of times. Even when Souda falters, Hinata ends up saying something that makes him perk right back up.

Hinata’s not that social of a guy in the first place.

The two of them banter with ease even when it’s clear that Hinata still gets exasperated by the other’s antics. Then—something is said. Souda’s expression changes into one of frustration and unease. Hinata’s worried, but when Souda excuses himself, Hinata makes no move to follow him. Likely to give the other space. Be respectful. All that.

Matsuda does trail after Souda, however. He’s not a considerate or patient guy. It’s why he doesn’t have any friends.

“Urgh, hate this, hate this, hate this,” Souda’s muttering under his breath through gritted teeth. “Seriously, why did this have to happen? There’s no escape...the ships and planes are useless...no engines... What the hell can I even do...?!”

“Boo.” Matsuda blew into the mechanic’s ear. “Gimme your lunch money.”

Souda screamed loud enough to blow off mountaintops. Matsuda thankfully had the foresight to cover his ears.

“M-M-M-MATSUDA?!” Souda yelped. “What the actual FUCK was that?!”

“A prank,” is his droning response. “You can laugh now.”

“THAT SHIT WASN’T FUNNY!” Souda screeched back. “Y-You, you, you—! Fucking watch it! I’m not in any mood to be messed with!”

Matsuda waved his hands.

“Alright, alright.”

Souda gave him a withering look. After a while, he backed up even more.

“...why are you here? A-Are you here to...?”

Matsuda waved his hands again, shaking his head for good measure.

“If I were, I wouldn’t have gotten your attention.”

“T-That could just be part of the trap!” Souda sputters. “Y-You... You’re not playing with me, are you?!”

...I was, but not because I wanted to murder you. Jeez. I like to think I’d be more pragmatic.

“You’re free to scream, then,” he said simply. “Scream as loud as you can. It can even be my name if you want.”

Souda shuddered.

“U-Urgh...dude, seriously... You’re just messed up,” he groans, burying his face into his hands. “What I’d give for a vehicle to get as far from you as possible. Even if I get sick afterward, it’d be worth it.”

“Haha,” Matsuda droned without a hint of mirth. “Sure.”

“Come to think of it, if anyone would be tempted to be the one to escape at the expense of everyone else...” Souda does raise his head to give him a look.

Matsuda stared back.

“You don’t know me,” he said. “You don’t know shit about me.”

“I-I don’t know,” Souda huffed, feigning assurance. “I think I’ve been around ya long enough to get a good idea of your character. And you’ve got like—scary ambitions.”

I’m not a considerate person, nor am I patient. I know I should be. It would ultimately make my life a lot easier.

“By that logic, I must know you pretty well in return,” he said.

Souda scoffed.

“Yeah, right. You’re just trying to psyche...”

“Dyed hair. Contacts.” Matsuda gestures to the entirety of him. “The way a person chooses to look says a lot about them.”

Souda’s mouth immediately shut, all blood draining from his face. It was easy. Too easy.

“Wonder what happened? Was it just bullying? Or a betrayal?” Matsuda went on. “People who change their natural appearance like that usually have something deeper to throw away.”

“Don’t—talk about shit you have no idea about...!” Souda growled. “It’s none of your damn business!”

He’s so basic.

It’s true I don’t know what I’m talking about, but you’re still falling for it, aren’t you?

“I’m not the traitor,” he says simply. “If I were, I’d manipulate you to like me. You’re about as easy to play as a cheap kazoo.”

Being a little cruel, aren’t you?

His head’s starting to hurt. For some reason—he himself feels sick. And Souda, well...

Souda’s already sniffling. In tears. Whatever he tries to say just comes out as blubbering. It’s pitiful. So much so that Matsuda pulls back with a groan.

His head really, really hurt. He rifles through his pocket, pulling out a handkerchief and a pill bottle. He lays the former on top of Souda’s quivering head before prying open the bottle. As he turns on his heel, he pops a couple into his mouth and swallows them dry with a groan.

He needed a nap after all that, thus he’s on his way.

--

“Hey. You.” Souda jerked his thumb off to the distance. “We’re going. We need to have a talk.”

“Huh. Kay.”

Once they got to the beach, Souda took several deep breathes. Psyching himself up for what was to come.

There really were only a number of ways things would culminate. A simple exchange of words was not going to be it.

“Y-You—!”

At the same time, when Souda spun on his heel—

“OOF! L-Let go! Let go!”

Matsuda was a bit surprised that Souda had the gall to throw a punch first. Not so surprised that he lacked the reflexes to dodge, to seize the mechanic by the arm. He threw the mechanic down, pinning him down front-first into the sand with Matsuda sitting on his back. Souda yelped when his arm was twisted in Matsuda’s grip.

“L-Let go,” he choked out, slapping the sand. “U-Urgh... Urgh...!”

His eyes were screwed shut, likely to keep the sand out.

“S-Seriously?! You couldn’t let me throw one punch for what an asshole you’ve been?!”

“I mean, if you want to upset the princess, that’s your prerogative,” Matsuda hummed before pulling back. “Unfortunately, I don’t like getting punched if I can avoid it.”

“T-Then what about—?!” Souda ended up coughing. The idiot must have inhaled some sand. Feeling bad for him, Matsuda helped him to his feet. Souda’s still coughing pitifully. “Urgh... You’re suuuuch a piece of wooooork.”

“I carry scalpels around,” Matsuda reminded him, making him freeze. A look of fear and then—that fright melted into exasperation.

“Alright,” Souda sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Alright, I get it. You really like flaunting, don’t ya? You’re the worst.”

Matsuda hummed, but Souda went on.

“Y’know...you’re scarily good at reading people, too. You were right about me. I changed my appearance to throw my old self away,” he admits. “I used to be a cowardly loser who thought highly of anyone who bothered to give me the time of day. Even if they lied to me...even if they betrayed me. I was just too much of a wimp to admit that I was being taken advantage of.”

I was just guessing, Matsuda internally admitted. And I still think you’re a coward and a loser. But for different reasons.

“Accepting vulnerability is the first step,” he ended up saying. “You can’t just say you’ll change even if you’re dramatic about it.”

“W-Well, a lot did change when I...changed...” Souda trails off.

“But not the kind of positive change you were hoping for,” Matsuda guessed again. “Were you uncomfortable?”

Souda blanched.

“God, I hate to admit it, but...you’re too sharp for your own good.”

Matsuda said nothing.

“You’re smart. You’re really fucking smart.” Souda gritted his teeth and met his gaze head-on. “That’s why—I’m gonna keep my guard up around ya.”

“That’s fine,” Matsuda replied, shrugging. “There are people you can relax around, and people you can’t. I don’t blame you at all.”

“You’re fine with it,” Souda reiterated as if he wasn’t sure. “Even if...I never trust you...or believe in you... You’re just...fine with it?”

“I’m fine,” Matsuda repeated. “Are you?”

Souda flinched.

“I... Geez! Playing those sick head games with me again!” He shook his head furiously, covering it with his hands as if that’d be a good defense. “W-Well! I won’t let ya! Better fucking watch yourself, Matsuda! Don’t even THINK of trying anything funny!”

“Got it,” Matsuda droned with disinterest. “Would you like to shake on it?”

“K-Keep away from me,” Souda yelped, nearly tripping over his own feet. “Just—just stay the hell away from me! I’m gonna keep an eye on you, but... I don’t want to have to deal with you if I don’t have to!”

“Alright. Fine.”

Souda gave him a suspicious look. He got flustered and quickly turned away. Without looking at Matsuda, he blindly threw back the handkerchief. It only fluttered to the ground, landing in the sand.

“Save your pity,” Souda muttered darkly. “Goodbye.”

When Souda left, it was with an air of finality. Matsuda decided to just leave things like that between them.

Kneeling down to retrieve his handkerchief, Matsuda did pause for a moment. He shook the sand off the fabric.

“...I don’t plan on betraying anyone, not even you,” he spoke slowly and stupidly. “I do in fact...care about lives and I don’t want to see them lost.”

Would that have really been so hard to say?

He really did have such an awful personality. Even if it wouldn’t have worked out for him, it wouldn’t have hurt to have tried.

There are people you can relax around and people that you can’t. There are people you can be friends with and people you that can’t. People you should trust and people that you shouldn’t. You can’t always control which one you’ll be, because it all depends on how others feel. You can’t control that. Even if that’s technically true...

He feels like he’s making excuses. It feels bad.

His head hurting doesn’t help. As he gripped that handkerchief, he took notice of a crab burying itself in the sand down below.

I should do better. I should be better. Maybe if I tell myself enough times, it’ll happen.

[vannahfanfics]

Before you read, here’s the previous chapter. New? Start from the beginning!

Crimson Butterflies

Ao3

Chapter 2: Bienvenido

“Gotta make things difficult for me, don’tcha, honey?” Touya grunted, holding a multitool in his teeth as he wrangled with the rusted chains securing the back door of his apartment complex. The girl didn’t answer, of course, considering she was slumped unconscious against the dirty brick wall. Touya cast glances at her out of the corners of his eyes as he worked, checking for the ragged rise and fall of her chest every few seconds. “Can’t walk in through the front door with ya bleedin’ everywhere,” he huffed and pulled the tool out of his mouth, jamming it into the padlock. He fiddled it with a second, jiggling the thin wire within the mechanism, and then twisted. The lock sprung free and the chain slithered to the ground, coiling up like a silver-and-brown snake. 

“All right, toots, let’s go,” he exhaled, still crouching and shuffling over to bundle her back into his arms. She moaned quietly, flinching despite his care not to jostle her too much. Before rising, he took another look at her bruised and bloodied face. “Damn,” he said quietly and brushed a strand of her sweaty, dirt-caked blonde hair out of her scrunched-up eyes. “Someone really did a number on you.” 

“Help me,” breezed past her busted lips, small and pathetic. Touya smiled wanly, then straightened up, the girl dangling limply in his arms. 

“Don’t worry, girlie. I intend to.” 

Despite the bright daylight outside, the apartment complex was gloomy. The few spears of light that snuck through the thick russet-red curtains illuminated the dust particles swirling in the air. Touya edged down the hall, stopping to peer around the corners before moving on. The security guard was slumped in his chair in the front lobby, snoring loudly and sucking moths into his mouth with every rumble and then blowing them back out, fluttering and confused, with every whistling breath. 

“Right where I left you,” Touya joked in a small whisper before skirting around the lobby to the staircase. He set his feet down gently, his boots barely thunking against the old wood. However, each time he pressed his weight down on one leg, the wood groaned loudly. “Shitty old apartment,” he grumbled, looking fervidly back at the security guard, who didn’t stir. “One of these days, I’ll fall through these damn stairs and I’ll sue that old bitch landlord for everything’s she’s worth. How’s that sound, toots?” he huffed, adjusting her in his grip before continuing. “The ticket to the high life, eh?” 

He made it to the second level without incident. He walked down the hall, the toe of the girl’s one remaining boot scuffing gently against the wall due to the cramped quarters, to his room at the end of the hall. 

“All right, sweets,” he mumbled, gathering the girl into one arm so he could reach into his pocket and fish out his apartment key, “Bienvenido a mi casa.” He inserted the key into the grimy brass lock and turned, the tumbler system clicking loudly. The door squeaked as he pushed it open with his toe, and the floor groaned underfoot as he shuffled into the entryway. He kicked the door shut and twisted the lock behind him, then adjusted her to fit in both his arms again. He glanced down to see that the wound in her left side had smeared blood all over his tee-shirt, dyeing the tattered white fabric a bright crimson. Guess I won’t be wearing that one anymore, he thought with a wan smirk. “Let’s get you patched up, eh, girlie?” he said, walking across the small space to his couch. 

“Easy does it,” he said to himself as he draped her down on the torn fabric, nestling a throw pillow under her head. She whimpered and writhed against the cushions, sending a few pieces of stuffing tumbling down to the floor. Touya shushed her while pushing her hair away from her sweaty forehead. “Oi, if you don’t like me now, you’re about to hate me in a few minutes.” 

He left her on the couch while he walked to his kitchen, squatting down in front of the sink to tug open the cabinets. He retrieved the first-aid kit and a bottle of hydrogen peroxide and then closed them. He rifled through another drawer to snag a tattered dishrag before meandering back to the couch. He grabbed the edge of the coffee table and tugged it close, then eased himself down on its edge. He waited a second, honestly worried about whether or not it would hold his weight; the legs didn’t buckle and the wood didn’t snap, however, so he flipped open the first aid kit. 

“Damn, I really don’t know where to start,” he sighed when he turned back to the girl, surveying the countless scratches, scrapes, and cuts littering her body. “Just who did you piss off?” He decided to go with a head-to-toe approach, but tackle the large wound first since it presented the biggest challenge and risk of infection. He pulled his knife out of his pocket and switched it open, leaning over her. “Sorry about your dress, sweets, but it’s in the way.” Carefully so as not to nick her already battered skin, he cut out a square of fabric lying over her midsection, leaving plenty to cover her bust and her nether regions. The fabric clung to the blood-soaked skin, and despite Touya’s attempt to be gentle, flesh still ripped away the cloth as he pulled it away. 

“Damn. You got shanked real good,” Touya grunted when he finally got a good look at the gash. It was about half an inch deep, carving through the muscle between two of her lower ribs. Blood oozed through the torn pink fibers and around the white bone; still, despite how gnarly it looked, Touya was confident that he could stitch it together. “All right, toots, this ain’t gonna feel good,” he grunted while dousing the rag in hydrogen peroxide. Then, with little fanfare, he began scraping away the congealed blood and dying flesh from the laceration. 

The girl sucked in a harsh breath, face pinching up in pain. “I know,” Touya said softly. “It hurts.” Despite the fact that half of his body was now dead, unfeeling skin, that didn’t mean he couldn’t empathize with others’ pain. He worked as quickly as he could to clean up the wound, allowing the girl to settle for a moment before tackling the stitching. It was less painful, though, considering most of the nerve fibers were frayed around the cut. Working silently, he threaded the flesh and tugged it back together, careful not to introduce any outside debris that could present a risk of infection. 

When he was applying the antibiotic-smeared bandage to the freshly-stitched cut, he happened to look at the girl’s face— and found red-orange eyes peering back at him. 

Despite his heart somersaulting in his chest, Touya managed to keep a straight face. He looked back to her side, patting the adhesive against her skin to smooth down the edges. 

“Rise and shine,” he remarked blaisely, sitting up to begin pulling out smaller bandages for her other cuts. He could feel her eyes boring into him, intense despite the haze of pain glossing them over. 

“Where am I?” 

“My apartment. I found you in the alleyway, toots, bleeding like a stuck pig,” he explained before turning back to her. He soaked a cotton ball in antiseptic and began dabbing it over the injuries to her face, careful not to press too hard on the bruised areas. She didn’t flinch away from him, just continued to give him that level and emotionless stare. He applied a bandage to a cut on her cheek, then paused to look down at her. “You got a name, darlin’, or am I gonna have to continue through my repertoire of pet names?” 

“Moe,” she said after a moment of hesitation. “Moe Kamiji.” He nodded, discarding the blood-tinged cotton ball and preparing another. When he leaned back over her to begin dabbing the wounds on her neck, she asked, “And you?” 

“You can call me Dabi,” he answered. He had no idea what this girl’s deal was, so his street name would have to suffice until he decided whether or not he trusted her. She fell silent, sleepily watching him move down her body to attend to her wounds. Once he applied the last of his bandages to an avulsion on her ankle, he sat back with a sigh. 

“All right. You can’t walk around in those strips of fabric, so I’ll get you some clothes,” he said, patting his thighs before standing up. His lower back twinged and his knees cracked in protest, sore after sitting and leaning over for so long. Moe said nothing as he walked away from her, down a small hall to his bedroom. He grabbed a tee shirt and some boxers from his dresser before walking back out. Honestly, he’d expected to find her in the middle of trying to escape; he was surprised to see her still laying on the couch and peering at him with those bright, bright eyes. 

“All right,” he said and gave her the clothes. “You really don’t need to be up and movin’ too much with that gash on your side. Do you need help?” he asked. Moe shook her head, so he turned his back to give her enough privacy to dress. He heard her shuffling behind him, the fabric rustling as she peeled it off her body. She occasionally grunted or groaned in pain, some of them so painful-sounding that he was tempted to turn around. 

Finally, she uttered a meek, “I’m ready.” 

He turned around and almost smiled at the way she drowned in the gray fabric of his shirt; the hem reached the lower end of her thighs with how petite she was. Touya snatched up her ruined dress and lone boot from the floor, walking them to his trash can— it wasn’t like they would be of any use to her anymore. As he dropped them in, he said, “So, care to enlighten me on how you ended up a bloody pulp in a back alley?” 

Moe didn’t speak. She dug her fingers into the fabric of his shirt and stared down at the floor, her eyes sad. Touya waited for a minute, and when it was obvious she was in no mood to divulge, he shrugged. “All right, then. I ain’t gonna force ya to talk or anythin’. Doesn’t matter to me none. Do you have somewhere to go?” 

This time, she murmured a faint, “No.” 

“I thought as much,” he sighed, walking back to her while raking his fingers through his hair. He slumped into his recliner, stretched back into it and propping up his feet. She peeked up at him while he rested his hands behind his head, hesitant. “Look, what happened to ya ain’t none of my business. You’re welcome to stay here until you’re better and then go on your way, or don’t. Though if you stick around too long, I’mma start chargin’ ya rent,” he joked with a smile. The edges of Moe’s lips curled up into a small smile at his teasing. 

He reached down into the small cooler he kept by his recliner, unzipping it and pulling out a beer. He held it out to her in offering, and when she nodded, he pulled out his Swiss army knife and popped off the cap with the bottle opener. She took it, sipping at it silently, and Touya retrieved his own from the cooler before zipping it back up. The gas inside hissed as he popped off the cap, cold white wisps wafting around the lip of the bottle. He sipped at the bitter liquid, watching Moe do the same. 

The sunlight had faded into dusk, eclipsed further by the rain clouds moving in from the east. The gray, thick clouds swelled with water, roiling and rumbling with gentle thunder. As the rain began to patter against the glass panes of his window, Touya recalled the biker a few nights ago with wild blonde hair that had searched for something he couldn’t see. She’d watched her comrades zoom by like she didn’t want to join them. Yet in the end, she’d done just that, disappearing into the mist with her tail lights shining like crimson butterflies. 

Moe tucked her blonde hair behind her ear, eyes coming to gaze at him. They were crimson too, with flecks of orange fire. Then she looked back down to her beer. She took a long swig, drinking like she wanted to forget something. She probably did. 

Don’t we all, girlie, Touya thought and brought his beer to his lips. Don’t we all. 

Yet life didn’t want you to forget certain things. They came back to haunt you, especially when you least expected it.

Enjoy this story? Here’s the next chapter! Please consider perusing my Table of Contents.

[atomic-taco-muffin]

The Lost Princess Chapter 114

Warnings: I’m about to make this a little bit like Danganronpa

Rating: SFW

Sora sat in his cell, trying to figure out a plan to get out of here and back to you. As he was working on his plan, he heard a faint giggle. 

“Who’s there?” he asked. 

“So, you’re the guy that hooded freak wants,” a feminine voice said. 

“Who are you?” 

“I’m known as a lot of things. Fairy, mythical creature, Storm Bringer.” 

“Huh? What’s a Storm Bringer?” 

“Not important. What is important is that you understand what the rules are for this game.” 

“Game? What game?” 

“Why, The Game Of Killing of course! The goal of this game is to kill a Spirit.” 

“What?!” 

“Ooh! I think I hit a sensitive spot. No wonder hood freak wanted you. So, who’s this Spirit that you want to protect? I bet you that she’s here.” 

“Like I will tell you.” 

“Fine. But don’t blame me if I kill ya!” The Storm Bringer left and Sora sat in his cell, processing the new information. 

“I gotta get out of here. (Y/N), please stop this game,” he whispered. 

“(Y/N) DID WHAT?!” Vanitas and the Spirits shrieked. 

“Guys, quiet!” Muki scolded as she was rocking Akaya to sleep. 

“Does (Y/N) know how dangerous this is? Even with Riku?” Yui asked. 

“I know. But they’re both fit for this mission,” Kairi said. 

“Grr...I’m going after her!” Celina said. 

“Are you insane?” Vanitas asked.

“Look, it’s way too dangerous for her to be out there. Someone should go after her. And it’s gonna be me.” 

“If you’re going, then I’m going with you.” 

“Me too,” Ansem said. 

“Me too,” Xemnas said. 

“Family sticks together, Celina. If you’re going, then we’re going with you,” Vanitas said. Celina sighed and looked at her brothers.

“Fine. You can join,” she said. Her brothers smiled and they got ready for their mission. 

“I’m going too,” Roxy said. 

“Roxy, no,” Xemnas said. 

“Why the hell not?! I’ve known her longer than you have!” 

“Roxy’s right. Sure you’re related to her but you don’t have a close relationship like we have,” Yui said. 

“Girls, listen to your father,” Muki said. The twins sighed and looked at the ground. Xemnas walked over to them and placed a hand on their shoulders. 

“She’s gonna be okay,” he said. 

“You don’t know that,” Roxy mumbled. 

“You’re right. I don’t know that. What I do know is that she’s strong.” 

“Just like her father,” a familiar voice said. Everyone looked over and saw Xigbar sitting in one of the chairs.

“What are you doing here?” Muki sneered as she summoned her gun. 

“Woah! Relax, your majesty! I didn’t come here to fight!” Xigbar said. 

“Then why are you here?” Xemnas asked. 

“You might say that I’m here as moral support?”

“What the hell do you mean by that?” Yui asked. Xigbar waved his hand and the Foretellers came into view. 

“May I introduce you to the Foretellers. (Y/N)’s actual family, including myself,” Xigbar said. “Meet Aced, Invi, Gula, and her birth father, Ira.” 

“What’s up with the masks?” Rumi asked. 

“Sorry, but we’re not allowed to say,” Gula said. 

“Bitch,” Roxy mumbled. 

“Okay, so you’re (Y/N)’s family. Do you know how to get to where she is?” Celina said.

“Easy. Just got a use a little dream magic,” Xigbar said. 

“Huh?” 

~~~~

You and Riku have been exploring the city for over an hour and there was still no sign of Sora. Even with your bond, you still couldn’t find him. 

“He’s gotta be here somewhere,” you said. Suddenly a fanfare went off.

“What the hell?” Riku asked. 

“Welcome to the Game of Killing! We finally have our goal here with us! Everyone, you know the rules. Kill the Spirit in any way you can!” a familiar voice said. 

“Wait, I know that voice,” you said.

“Huh? You do?” Riku asked. 

“Yeah. It was from my dream. I can’t figure out his name though.” 

“Well, we might wanna start running.” You and Riku saw different mythical creatures with insane looks on their faces, approaching you. 

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea,” you said. You and Riku ran away from the creatures and the game had begun. 

[sidlyrics]

Killer

Grupo / Band: MUCC Letra / Lyrics: Tatsuro (MUCC) Música / Music: Miya (MUCC)

Killer

freeze　制御不能

天使 or 悪魔　どっちだっていいのさ 完全にイカれた Monster Boy

Yellow jacket, lady hornet

冗談じゃねぇぜ　想定外って 脳足りん　正気か？ sweet honey

完全崩壊

ピリオドのファンファーレ　鳴り響く前に 消えた　心臓　返してくれよ 仕組まれた出会いなら　とっくに手遅れさ Baby May さぁ　始めよう

Nightmare Dejavu　アナフィラキシーショック DEAD or ALIVE　口づけしよう

Yellow jacket, lady hornet

奪い去って頂戴　プライドも愛も No. Darling　正気さ sweet honey

爪跡はプロローグ　きつく抱き合って 濡れた　心の向こう　覗けば 隠れても　逃れても　今更手遅れさ Baby May さぁ　落ちて行こう

ウジのようにわく FUCK & FUCKER 大胆卑猥なCANDIES BITCH Don’t touch ZOMBIES FUCK OFF！！ DARK KNIGHT　そうさ I am a hero.

壊れた脈拍が　殺めてくれましょう 軽薄な言葉を選ぶなら「愛」と「絶望」

ピリオドのファンファーレ　消えちまう前に オレの　心臓　返してくれよ 焼け焦げた胸を刺す　猛毒のような口づけで　ほら 殺しておくれ

ここで　さぁ　始めよう

Killer

Freeze　seigyoufunou

tenshi or akuma　dochiidate ii no sa kanzen ni IKAreta Monster Boy

Yellow jacket, lady hornet

joudan janeeze　souteigaitte noutarin　shouki ka? Sweet honey

kanzen houkai

PERIOD no FANFARE narihibiku mae ni kieta　shinzou 　kaeshitekure yo shikumareta deai nara　tokku ni teokure sa Baby May saa　hajime you

Nightmare Dejavu　ANAPHYLAXIS SHOCK DEAD or ALIVE　kuchidzuke shiyou

Yellow jacket, lady hornet

ubaisatte choudai　PRIDE wo ai mo No. Darling　shouki sa sweet honey

tsumeato wa PROLOGUE kitsuku dakiatte nureta　kokoro no mukou　nozokeba kakuretemo　nogaretemo　imasara teokure sa Baby May saa　ochiteyukou

UJI no you niwaku FUCK & FUCKER daitan hiwai na CANDIES BITCH Don’t touch ZOMBIES FUCK OFF !! DARK KNIGHT　sou sa I am a hero.

Kowareta myakuhaku ga　ayametekuremashou keihaku na kotoba wo erabu nara “ai” to “zetsubou”

PERIOD no FANFARE　kiechimau mae ni ORE no　shinzou　kaeshitekure yo yakekogeta mune wo sasu　moudoku no you na kuchidzukede　hora koroshiteokure

koko de　sa　hajimeyou

Killer

Freeze out of control

Angel or devil it doesn't matter which A totally crazy Monster Boy

Yellow jacket, lady hornet

There's no way that it was unexpected Ignorant, are you insane? sweet honey

Complete destruction

Fanfare of a period before it echoes The vanished heart, give it back If it was a setup, it's too late Baby May Okay, let's start

Nightmare, dejavu, anaphylaxis shock DEAD or ALIVE, let's kiss

Yellow jacket, lady hornet

Please, take away both my pride and my love No. Darling I'm sane, sweet honey

Scratches are a prologue. Tightly embrace the soaking heart's other side, take a peek. Hiding or escaping, it's too late now, Baby May Okay, let's fall

Infested like maggots FUCK & FUCKER Boldly vulgar CANDIES BITCH Don't touch ZOMBIES FUCK OFF!! DARK KNIGHT, yeah, I am a hero

The broken pulse will cause injuries If choosing frivolous words, they are "love" and "despair"

Fanfare of a period before it vanishes Give me back my heart Stab the burnt chest with a deadly poisonous kiss, go ahead, kill me

Right here, okay, let's start

Asesino

Congélate fuera de control.

Ángel o demonio, da igual cuál, un monstruito absolutamente loco.

Chaqueta amarilla, avispa.

Es imposible que no te lo esperases. Ignorante, ¿estás loco? Dulce miel.

Destrucción total.

Fanfare de una época antes de que haga eco. El corazón desaparecido, devuélvelo. Si era una trampa, es demasiado tarde, cariño. Vale, empecemos.

Pesadilla, dejavu, shock anafiláctico. Vivo o muerto, besémonos.

Chaqueta amarilla, avispa.

Por favor, llévate tanto mi orgullo como mi amor. No. Cariño, estoy cuerdo, dulce miel.

Los rasguños son un prólogo. Abraza con fuerza el otro lado del corazón que se hunde, echa un vistazo. Huyendo o escapando, ya es demasiado tarde, cariño. Vale, hundámonos.

Infestado como gusanos, joder y cabrón. Una puta buenorra claramente vulgar. No toques, zombies, ¡¡jodeos!! El caballero oscuro, sí, soy un héroe.

El pulso cortado causará heridas. Si hay que elegir palabras frívolas, son "amor" y "desesperación".

Fanfare de una época antes de que desaparezca. Devuélveme mi corazón. Apuñala el pecho abrasado con un mortal beso venenoso, adelante, mátame.

Aquí mismo, venga, empecemos.

Kanji, romaji, English: Jpopasia Español: Reila

[dzifasblog]

Chapter 4

Read from Chapter 3

It would be a bit of a stretch to say no one had ever rejected me . Yet, it did not happen often and it did not happen when I like like someone. Not only was I rejected but I was also friend zoned. Which is crazy because I usually did the zoning. Everything comes back full circle indeed. It had been a week since I had my ego bruised and I have to say, I was being a big girl about it. With Darcy's friend shooting the cheer "movie", she was left alone a lot of the time. Time she usually spent with me....because we're friends now.

Kill me now!!

Not that I don't enjoy her company. Au contraire, being near her all the time. Listening to her silly jokes, hearing her laugh and the way she would get pa Her boyfriend is one lucky bitch.

I was currently sitting in the house's common room, making use of the uncharacteristic quiet. Seemed like there was some party I was not invited to because the whole house was almost empty. It didn't bother me much; but as time ticked on and Darcy still hadn't made an appearance I became more and more curious.

Darcy did not strike me as a party girl. and her friend could not have dragged her because she had a meeting with Mimi today. (Yes I had learnt the schedule to see what times I could be with Darcy, yes I am a simp.) It took everything in me not to barge out and go look for Darcy: 1. We hadn't made any plans and 2. It would be plain weird. So I stayed my ass in the chair.

A couple of minutes after trying to focus of the copy of Shakespeare in my hand. The door to the common room burst open to reveal Kaitlyn, one of the girls in the opposite dorm. Putting her hands on her knees (thot shit), she tried catching her breath.

"Boys, " she panted. "The boys are here."

So this is why she ran?

All of a sudden it hit me. Darcy hadn't ditched me, she was busy with her boyfriend. I wasn't sure how to feel about that. On one hand, she hadn't ditched me and that gave me semblance of peace(??) And on the other hand she was with her boyfriend, someone who I didn't need to see to hate.

I was so engrossed in weighing the pros and cons of my love life. (if you can even call it that) That I hadn't realized Kaitlyn had been speaking until Darcy's name came up.

"What did you say about Darcy, sorry I'm hard of hearing" I needed to not come of as too curious.

"Her boyfriend came in a car and brought her a bouquet of flowers," Kaitlyn swooned.

"How do you know that?" It wasn't strange for guys to bring presents to their girlfriend. But I doubt Darcy announced it to the whole school.

"He came in a car, with his friends. He's like a year older," Kaitlyn spoke so animatedly. "He got out of the car with this huge ass bouquet and got on one knee and everything." After narrating the story complete with hand gestures. she fell onto the chair opposite me with all the drama of a Disney princess.

"How romantic," I deadpanned.

"I know right" Kaitlyn sighed completely oblivious to the sarcasm. "I wish someone would do that for me." Men would do the bare minimum and hetero girls would swoon. The bar was in the absolute pits of hell. Also, I doubt Darcy liked all the fanfare around the bouquet of flowers and their delivery. I needed to go see all this for myself.

Standing up I dusted imaginary dust of myself and moved to put the book back in its place. Kaitlyn was still sprawled in the chair with a goofy smile on her face. I do not know what would have happened if she been the one to get flowers. I wanted to say goodbye to her but I doubt she would have heard it over her self-excitement, so I made my way out of the room.

I had not made it far when I heard someone calling my name. I turned to find my longtime friend and partner in crime Robin jogging towards me.

"Where the hell have you been? I've been looking for your bitch ass everywhere." Robin and I had been friends for as long as I can remember. Our mothers had been bestfriends and roommates in the same sorority house. Our friendship was a given. We lived on the same street, went to the same school and did almost everything together.

We even came out together, him as bisexual and me, as lesbian. This broke our parents who had hoped we would end up together hearts but they got over it. Or at least I think they did.

Ignoring his question, I asked one of my own. "Why is my school crawling with degenerates from your school?"

"Wait you didn't know?" He furrowed his eyebrows in genuine confusion. "We're having some lame ice breaker. Never wrote to you cause I thought this was something you'd have been all over."

"I've been busy," I shrugged.

"Busy doing what?"

"You knowww....this and that" He looked confused. I wanted so desperately to share this whole Darcy thing with someone else but the thought scared me. I don't know what of, but the thought of another person knowing terrified me. Maybe it was the shame of being friend zoned.

"Is it a girl?"

"Wh..what...no" Hesitating and stuttering through your answer is never a good thing. I cast my eyes to the ground to avoid Nico's.

"Uh huh" Was all he said, not buying my bull.  "You know what I think?..." I didn't get to find out what he thought because just then the loud revving of a motorcycle cut through the air, demanding everybody's attention. I looked down to the park in front of out hostel to see one big motorcycle flanked by two smaller ones. I guess the big one belonged to the head honcho.

"Ghost riders," Robin said, coming to stand beside me. "Ninja name, trash guys."

I giggled at that. "I'm guessing they don't tickle your fancy." I teased.

Robin just rolled his eyes at me. "They are bad news, like really really bad news. Like gang shit, and not in a cool fun way but in an you could probably get killed way." My brows shot up at his statement. Gangs were nothing new but high schoolers in a gang would be pretty bad. Imagine being this hormonal and having the equipment necessary to kill.

"That sounds bad,"

"Bad? Try awful. I stay 5 feet away from them all the damn time, I will not be caught up in any of their shit. Not even by accident." Robin was usually very dramatic but something told me he wasn't exaggerating.

Suddenly, the girls seemed to burst out in cheers, I looked down to see the head honcho lip locking with Darcy.

My Darcy! My grip on the railing tightened hard, and I tried leaning forward to get a better look but I felt a hand pull me back. I turned ready to give Robin a piece of my mind before catching myself. Did I really like Darcy enough to yell at Robin?

Robin had one eyebrow arched at me. "I know I said some stuff but you look ready to end him"

I cast one more look at the park and grabbed Robin's hand and started dragging him to the common room where no one would see or hear us. There I spilled my guts about everything till now. Robin sat there quietly listening to me ramble on and on. It felt good to get it all out.  When I was done, he had a very Joker like smile on his face and for once I was grateful he would eventually have to leave.

"I've seen a lot of strange things in my day," he started. "But I have never seen anyone get under your skin so fast."

"You don't get it, she's just amazing" I argued.

"Look at you with heart eyes," Robin teased. I punched him in the arm. "Stop it"

"Ok, ok," he laughed. "Look, I know you think you've met the love of your life but you might want to pace yourself a little. I mean do you really know this girl? Like know know her? She was kissing one of the ghosts for crying out loud."

"I know her," Sort of. "I know she would never be mixed up in some illegal shit." Robin had raised some good points but I knew Darcy would never get mixed in any illegal activities. Or would she?

"How do you know?" Robin asked

"I....I just do, ok?" But did I?

"All things you know about Darcy are very surface level things-"

"I wouldn't consider knowing the way she looks when she comes surface level," I interrupted.

Robin shot me a look but continued anyway. "Why don't you take sometime to get to know her better, like where she's from and where she met her terrible boyfriend." He was right, I knew he was right and judging from the look on his face, he knew that I knew he was right. "Besides," he continued. "You and her are not together so use this friend zone wisely."

"Gah, fine." I hated playing the waiting game, I'm not known for my patience.

"Good," Robin pat my head. " Let's go, I need to get back to school as soon as possible."

"Alright" With that we left the common room and made our way downstairs. I walked Robin over to his ride, a 6'5 muscular guy I was 85% sure he was fucking. "See ya later, alligator." Robin yelled as the car took off.

"You're such a loser." I yelled back as the car disappeared behind the gates.

[ubernoxa]

The Sip: A GNR Modern Day AU

Chapter 4: Shot Hill

(Chapter 1) (Chapter 2) (Chapter 3)

Chapter Summary: Alanah may have gotten more than she bargened for when she discovers a little game can have other intentions

I had 4 beers and that was the only reason I agreed to play this shot hill game Stevie and Duff had mentioned earlier.

Dinner was absolutely delicious and I don’t think Slash could have done a better job cooking. It just tasted amazing. It was fall off the bone perfection.

We quickly moved that party inside and that’s when I saw Sandy again, happily sitting on the couch with some guy’s arm draped around her. She gave me a not so discrete thumbs up before I followed Duff and the rest of the guys to the basement.

When I walked into the basement, the only worlds that came to mind were holy shit. A large pool table occupied the center of the basement with a bar and mini living room off to the side. My eyes darted right back to the pool table which was filled with shot glasses. There were so many that it was impossible to count.

“Alright the name of the game is shot hill. For the newbies in the room, the rules are simple. There will be 3 teams. Me and slash, Stevie and Maggie, and Duff and Alanah.

Each team will select an A person and a B person this will determine who goes which round. Whoever got last the last time we played goes first. If the person to your right makes the shot, you drink. I should note that not all of the shots are normal shots, so tread lightly. If you don’t want to take a shot or if the ball lands on the floor before the second bounce, you remove an article of clothing of your partner’s choice.

Everyone give your phones to Izzy before we begin, Any questions?”

Duff gently rubbed my back as Axl explained the rules. I almost jumped when I felt his fingers dance in the straps that held my bikini top on. Before I could question if I should even play the game Axl tossed Duff the small ball who gave it to me.

“A for Alanah,” he smirked rather proud of his discovery. I had only had 2 beers or wait was it 3 or 4? Fuck. Never mind that doesn’t matter. A little fun never hurt anyone. I have played beer pong before. How different could this be?

I bounced the ping pong ball and it made it into a shot glass. Duff cheered from behind me as Stevie took the shot of what I assumed to be baileys mixed with milk.

Laughter quickly filled the room as he coughed a little.

“ Izzy what the hell was that?” Stevie jokingly yelled across the room.

“What you’ve never had vodka mixed with milk before?” Laughter filled the room again as Izzy spoke. Axl wasn’t kidding on how some of the shots weren’t ‘normal’.

“One of the winners gets to setup the next game and makes the shots,” Duff explained as we watched Stevie aiming across the table. There must have been something over there that he wanted Axl to drink. By the look of disappointment in his face, it wasn’t the red shot that the ping pong ball made it into.

Axl took the red shot and made a comment about how it tasted like cherries. Good news to hear that not all of the shots are messed up.

“You little bitch, were you trying to go for the black shot!” Laughter filled the room as Steven smiled and nodded.

“We all know what’s in there, Izzy made the shots and that special one is always there. I don’t want to EVER take that shot again. Sorry Alanah,” Steven then turned to me as he apologized.

“Why are you apologizing to me for?”

“You’re gonna have to take the shot,” he casually replied.

I looked up to Axl who seemed much too excited to toss the ping pong ball into the shot that was practically right in front of him.

“Survival of the fittest. I had to take that shot last time Izzy setup the game, and there is no way in hell I’m taking it again,” Axl joked once the ball landed in the shot.

“Well fuck..” I then turned to Duff and asked, “if he is afraid of that shot then I want to part of it. Which piece of clothing goes?” I couldn’t help but smirk as Duff’s eyes lit up.

He tugged on the belt loop of my shorts and I quickly pulled them off before he took his turn.

This time it landed in a clear liquid and Maggie asked, “hey Izzy, what are the odds that it is just vodka?”

“I’m not telling you shit Maggie. Part of the fun of winning is that you potentially get to fuck with people as they become more and more paranoid about what is in the glasses,” Izzy replied before leaving his seat and joining the rest of us at the pool table.

Without hesitation, Maggie grabbed the shot and finished it in one go.

“Holy shit that was water. I almost removed an article of clothing for water,” I couldn’t help but laugh with her as she spoke.

“Aim for The Shot,” Stevie pointed over towards the black shot he tried to get Axl to drink earlier. Maybe Slash would be the one to take the shot,

“No promises,” she responded before eyeing down the shot glass. I had never seen someone focus as much as she did as she tried to sink the ping pong ball into the cup.

“Woooo!” I joined in the cheering as she sunk it in.

I could hear slash groan across the room and laughter quickly followed suit.

“So how bad are we talking here? How bad is this shot? Cause my curiosity is getting the best of me right now,” Slash said earning a what the fuck look from Axl.

“It has the consistency of sludge, smells like shit, and fuck knows what that bastard puts in it but it will fuck you up,” Axl tried to reason with Slash. I wanted him to take the shot, so I wouldn’t have to. Please take the damn shot.

“But Axl, I haven’t tried it before!” Laughter filled the room as Axl threw his hands up in the air and walked away from the table.

“I swear to fucking god Slash. That shot is going to fuck you up and I don’t want to have to take care of you tonight. Remember why we call it the Dead Man?!” It was clear Axl was done with Slash’s shit.

“Alright, alright I was just fuckin’ with ya. What should I remove?” Axl rolled his eyes and I couldn’t help, but giggle at his response. I don’t know what I expected from the infamous Guns N’ Roses, but this wasn’t it. I wasn’t disappointed though, the media made them out to be a bunch of loud trash people. Standing here, in their basement, playing this drinking game made me feel like they were a big family. Without hesitation Slash removed he shirt earning a cheer from Stevie and threw it across the room making a little show.

“Alright Duff, how much do you love me,” I couldn’t help but laugh as a mischievous look crossed Slash’s face. He was going to land it in what Axl referred to as the dead man shot.

“You’re my favorite lead guitarist,” I shook my head knowing that Duff was going to take the shot.

“Hmm not good enough,” Slash replied. Before I could even blink, the ball landed in the shot glass.

“Sucks to suck,” I teased at him.

“Says the one who didn’t take the shot not even a round ago. Also we are on the same team,” I watched him as he eyed the shot. Was he seriously debating it?

“Jesus Christ,” I perked up and looked over at Axl who was trying to hide laughter and was whispering something I couldn’t make out to Slash.

“Pass the shot,” the room went silent as Slash passed him the shot. Was he seriously going to drink it?

“You know you don’t have to drink it,” I whispered to him. Saying I felt bad was an understatement. Like he said we were on a team.

“Ehh, one of us is drinking it tonight, so might as well get it over with,” he shrugged and whispered back, but I still felt bad. I shouldn’t had wimped out last round and just taken it.

“Here, a courtesy shot of vodka,” Izzy handed me a shot to give to Duff who mumbled something in auditable.

Without any fanfare Duff took the shot and immediately yelled, “WHAT THE FUCK IZZY” the room irrupted in laughter as Duff coughed and grabbed the shot of vodka to wash the other shot down.

“That’s fucking rancid,” Duff said between coughs.

Time flew by as the shot glasses began to slowly disappear, along with clothing. My shirt was the second to go. There was no way in hell I was taking a chunky shot, it looked absolutely repulsive.

“Is someone a little tipsy?” I giggled at Duff as he whispered in my ear. No...I only had like 4 shots and a couple beers...I was fiiiiiiiiine.

“R u talking’ ‘bout urrself” I giggled right back at him. My stomach was being thrown into loops from the smile that was planted on his face. He was hot. I tugged on the belt loops of his pants earning a mischievous look from him.

“Hmm...no I don’t think so,” He whispered back. I giggled as I felt his hand rest on my ass.

Without looking I tossed the ping pong ball across the table. It didn’t just miss the remaining shots, it never even hit the table. The room erupted in laughter and I quickly joined in. Maybe I was a little tipsy.

“Alright, rockstars choice,” I turned around to Duff and cringed at my slurred words. God I sounded like a damn basket case.

“I’ve been wanting to do this for hours,” he whispered in my ear. I felt him gently tugging on one of the strings that held onto my bikini top, and then poof, just like magic, it fell to the floor.

[theatercommandments]

Me and my friends did a group call and we figured out that you can change your name on Zoom as many times as you want during a call. Some of the many names we used (*I made none of these up):

- Amy Guarino (used by Georgia)

- Georgia 1: The Sorcerer’s Stone

- Georgia 2: Return of the Jedi

- Georgia 3: At World’s End

- Kermit the Frog II

- Mortal Kombat

- The Lone Bass

- Mace Windu the bass

- Baby Lock Them Doors And Turn The Lights Down Low

- James Earl Jones

- A Bitch Ass

- Chaotic Evil

- Chaotic Good

- All You Can Eat Shrimp For $14.99

- YELL HEA

- A Middle Aged Man on Rollerskates

- I’m Cher Bitch

- Official Senior Concentration

- COURTNEY TAKE YOUR BREAK

- Easy Peasy Lemon Squeezy

- Difficult Difficult Lemon Difficult

- BVW 230 Lobet den Hern, J.S. Bach

- Hildegard von Bingen

- Aaron Copland, Fanfare For The Common Man, 1942

- wHAT tHE fUCK iS uP kYLE

- Shrek Is Love, Shrek Is Life

- Hurricane Tortilla

- bitch you GUESSED IT

- It’s Britney Bitch

- Leave Britney Alone

- 1 (877) Kars For Kids

- AllState You’re In Good Hands

- Put Amy In The Plant 2020

- Put Amy In The Plant 2021

- The Fresh Prince of Bel Air

- Welcome To Chili’s

- FUCK YA CHICKEN STRIPS

- Bill Nye The Science Guy BILL BILL BILL BILL

[thetheshadowofwestfall-blog]

An Iron Chrysanthemum In Her Hair

Part Two: The Space Between Two Worlds

Big place, Azeroth. Lots of people. Lots of places. Lots of points of view. Hard to imagine all of the little stories across the planet and beyond playing out day-by-day. Drops of feelings and desires in an ocean of emotions.

The hippogryph came to land on the platform without any fanfare or flash, brilliant blue feathers and graceful steel barding a far cry from the wyverns and gryphons typical of the port. Much of the morning activity across Booty Bay was in full swing, numerous ships and merchant caravans putting together the last of their shipments and supplies for the high seas and road to come.

Pratchett made no effort in putting in small-talk or any discernible amount of friendliness in the port; by all appearances, he was on business and little more. The human, not so young a man anymore as he self-described, quietly shifted though the crowding of dockworkers and sailors on his way down level after level of Booty Bay’s twisting and stacked terraces.

His destination was close-by; the official Port Authority building. Pratchett wasted no time outside, forcing his way through numerous burly-looking men and work as he picked his way through the crowded interior. Much of what was going on was official business; as official as a goblin port could be. Some shipments were inspected as they were claimed, with smaller batches being hand-surveyed by gregarious green goblins and their profit-inclined subordinates. Pratchett made his way around a group with quartz crystal in a massive chest, the cliche of the container enough to give him pause for a moment as the goblin overseeing it proclaimed its authenticity as ‘high-grade Azerite.’

Pratchett slipped into a side-alcove away from the crush, bobbing his head in a quick jingling nod. The gesture didn’t catch the goblin’s attention, but the sound of tungsten certainly seemed to grab him. “’ey, wha’cha need?” Will took a seat on the stool before the goblin’s little makeshift counter, noting that there was nothing comfortable about his position so low to the ground. “Inquiring on a pair of ships coming in to dock today. Steamscar’s Snarl and the Brinedragon.”

The goblin gave the human a look of brief confusion, before shrugging uncaringly and going for a set of paperwork before him. The green dockworker rifled through his paperwork before pulling out a brief manifest, scanning it over before turning it around and showing a pair of entries mid-list with a stubby finger. A few ship’s entries separated them, but not enough to make them difficult to group together visibly. “Here. On time. The Snarl is gonna be later in the afternoon, but the Brinedragon’s gonna get in sometime soon, once we get these FRIGGIN’ JABBERING GIMPS OUTTA HERE!” The yelling was directed outside, causing a crash of crystals and wood. Will simply nodded once, a firm gesture to cut the pleasantries with the goblin dockworker short. “Very well. Ah, keep it real, yeah?” Will offered a weak smile to the goblin as he stood from the small stool, immediately stepping out from the alcove as quickly as he had descended into it. The goblin just gave him a raised eyebrow and bland look, obviously not entirely enthused by the brief moment of cultural appropriation by the human.

Brinedragon was a ship of the line first and foremost. The sin’dorei fielded a great number of smaller ships across Azeroth for their work in the war and elsewhere, with the vast majority of their efforts going towards back-and-forth travel to Quel’Danas and supplies for their research outposts and what few townships they claimed. Seeing a full-sized vessel on the open seas sporting the colors of the Blood Elves and their styling was a sight to behold. The Brinedragon did not disappoint. A 128-gun first-rate ship, it was clearly from another time and another place beyond the current politics and industrialization of the Horde and Alliance conflict.

Will didn’t bother going to the ship himself. He stayed abroad in Booty Bay, settling in to a small bar with cheap ale and simple bar food for the sake of keeping a low profile while awaiting his first point of business.

“‘ey, yo! Get outta the way! Who do ya think ya are, standin’ around like an idiot huh?!” The voice outside was loud, clearly goblin, and very agitated. A few other voices spoke out in protest, only for the goblin to let out a stream of his native language before continuing. “And ‘yer mother!”

Will sighed.

This was not your standard example of a goblin. Molten gold eyes and light green skin aside, he just didn’t look much like the standard example of his people. A big, beefy green male humanoid, he wore a constant shit-eating grin and always seemed to be at ease wherever he stood or sat. Decked out in mail webbing and thick plate enough to crush a mortal figure, adorned in fiery regalia and engineering marvels, wielding a backpack of weapons at any given moment; Jax Deadhead was a pariah among goblins. Charitable work! Donations of goods to those in need! A bottom-line for his shipping interests that didn’t add unnecessary tax?!

These reasons and more were why Will could handle the goblin. In small doses, but handle him all the same. The human shifted in his seat as the goblin posed his question, draping an arm over the back of his chair as he looked to the not-so-diminutive man across from him. “I have seen no sign of them, myself. It could be the Dark Lady’s work, but I suspect the Disputation would have a number of emergency plans for such a situation.” Jax spit hot fire in response, his words coming out in very quick Common with the accent one could only dread to expect from a goblin. “So wha’cha sayin’ is, they done goofed or they straight-up bailed on everybody else?”

Will sighed. “I do not think it is that simple, but yes. Frostcowl would not be caught so unawares. And I seriously doubt, with all of my familiarity on the matter, that he would simply die ingloriously. He adores his plans and scheming for whatever reason.” The goblin threw his hands into the air and kicked back in his seat, almost toppling it over before throwing his weight forward and almost climbing on the table they sat at. “Thrall’s Heaving Man-Sack, so what’s the point? Ya think they’re gonna just pop up outta nowhere like ‘ey yo ‘sup bitches, we’re here to say the muthafuckin’ day’ or somethin’?”

Will just gave Jax a look; eyes staring straight at the goblin as he tilted his head down slightly and to the left. His face was expressionless, save for the small amount of disapproval in the corners of his mouth. “Yes. Absolutely. Unquestionably.” Jax threw his hands in the air again, a repeat performance of his prior response. Expect this time he did not lean forward; the goblin simply stayed up against the back of his chair, arms crossing over his chest and pouting visibly. “Fuckin’ drama queen. So what about you, kid? Ya fuckin’ bitches and makin’ it rain in Stormwind? Find any sayaad to neck yet? Any sign of the folks from The Call of Azeroth ya thought ya lost?”

Pratchett waited for the list of questions to end, greatly admiring for a few long moments the sheer patience and resolve Sunsheer must have shown to be able to share a building with the goblin; much less a table. Once Jax stopped Will shrugged, a helpless sort of questioning motion on his own answer as he gave it. “Not exactly. I am tracking down what I can of my publisher and printer; the both of whom have decided to continue producing my work even after I left. Residuals and payment are coming, thusfar. As for the rest... I don’t know.” Will lets out a breath at his own admission, looking to the side as he speaks. “I am in Stormwind to relax and figure things out. Met a few people. Been drinking as well, for better or for worse. Brief contact with the Black Harvest and running into The Deacon aside, I haven’t really been up to my usual. Met a lovely woman; a contortionist and dancer. Fairly skilled performer actually.”

“Aw shit,” Jax starts as he rubs his gauntleted hands together. “Now we’re gettin’ into the good shit. Give’er the ol’ One-Two Guitarist Special yet? Or ya just get shitfaced and went to pound town in that dwarf trash heap ya stay in?” “Light, no. No, nothing like that. She’s a good person, very friendly and good company. She has her own problems and difficulties going on at the moment, so I don’t...” Will takes in a breath, looking for the right phrasing for the goblin. “I’m not looking to go deep or go home on this, Deadhead. Intellectual companionship isn’t a foreign concept for you, I know.”

“Yeah well, the last chick I got that with got melted by Ember’s pet not-a-fuckin’-dragon, so I ain’t THAT familiar with it anymore man. Still though, ya ain’t gettin’ yer dick wet in the big city? Plenty of ‘fugees from across the world there! Enough strange to go weeks without tappin’ the same thing twice!” Will just blanked at Jax again, the corners of his mouth showing far more disapproval than before. “Light, please, change the subject. Got anything to smoke?”