#none of us can afford to live anywhere else in this stupid city | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

popatochisssp · 4 years ago

Note

Hello Poppy! I hope you slept well! Here is the reminder you requested to create a mob au hc post like the cowboy post. Have a wonderful day!

Thank you, it’s finally time! I’m gonna put it under a cut immediately because having twenty skeletons makes every post with all of them automatically a long one!

Full disclaimer-- none of the boys are bosses, that falls on the monarch(s) of their universes... but that doesn’t mean they don’t have their own roles to play~

(Warnings: mentions of crime, drugs, violence, sex, brief sexism [probably not the way you’d think] and ableism, plus all the usual mob-tropes I may have forgotten to mention)

Sans (Undertale): He’s a...humble purveyor of items, quality goods produced economically in order to pass those savings on to the crafty consumer who might not want to pay full, exorbitant price for ‘name-brand’ luxuries... Yeah, he’s the ‘you wanna buy a watch?’ guy and he spends most of his days (strategically) wandering around the city looking for customers to hock knockoff, lookalike watches, wallets and bags to. The fuzz know him by name but can never seem to find anything to hold him on, so he’s mostly just a harmless nuisance to be shooed along elsewhere if there’s been any complaints. (He’s real good at making friendly conversation with the law enforcement and keeping all eyes on him, and frankly, if there were any real shady business going on somewhere nearby... well, the cops certainly wouldn’t know about it, too busy hustling him along down the street, now would they?)

Papyrus (Undertale): An upstanding citizen, unlike his brother who’s always in some little trouble with the law or other. He is gainfully employed at a fitness center, and he commutes there by car, because paid for his license to operate one and practiced his driving skills and saved up until he could afford a very beautiful, shiny car of his own! It’s a very nice vehicle...so nice, even, that he doesn’t like to drive it for...recreational outings with friends, in case the paint might get scuffed. That’s why his friends let him borrow their cars when they go out, and let him drive very fast (but safely!) all over the city, even at strange hours or by ‘suspicious’ locations. He’s certainly never seen anything suspicious going on, he just waits outside, and if he happens to keep a First Aid kit in his glove-box, that’s just taking precautions, isn’t it? Accidents happen, you know! (He’s the best getaway driver in town and he knows it, but plausible deniability--the less he ‘knows,’ the better.)

Sky (Underswap Sans): Just your average, ordinary businessman, running a nice little bar for average, ordinary folks of all kinds. Well... he co-owns the place with a buddy of his, Grillby, but Grillbz is a free spirit and a real man about town, so really most of the ‘running’ is down to him. And he loves it! So many people (monsters and humans) to meet and chat with and serve... human food and alcohol, of course. Monster food and alcohol isn’t legalized yet to serve to humans, and a black mark like that against his little establishment would be just awful. He adheres fully to the rules and regulations set forth by human governmental agencies, no magic in anything he passes across the counter, skeleton’s honor! ...Total bullshit, obviously-- he’s running a speakeasy for humans who want to partake in a little monster food or booze, because it’s not harmful to humans and that makes it an even stupider regulation than prohibition was. Grillby taught him most of the menu and cooks on the rare occasions he’s in, while Sky handles the liquid menu and keeps an eye-socket out for snitches and inspectors trying to catch him in the act. He’s never missed a rat yet.

Paps (Underswap Papyrus): He works at his brother’s place. In the back. Only part-time, though, Sky’s got it mostly buttoned up there, so Paps has a lot of leisure time to wander around the city, hit up his favorite joints, chat with friends--and strangers that can become friends, he’s a friendly sorta guy. And if he’s ever seen sharing a cigarette or two with one of those friends, of course it’ll be a totally normal tobacco cigarette, and no exchange of money or anything else incriminating about the interaction. ...Doggo is the one that does the deals, he’s got the Dog Treat supply and a client base that’s steadily starting to include humans--but since Dog Treats are classed as Monster Consumables and illegal to distribute to humans, in spite of being non-addictive, only mildly affective, and non-irritant to lungs, things get a little more convoluted. Paps hits up Doggo at Muffet’s (a wholly monster establishment) for the Dog Treats and a client list, ‘refurbishes’ the Treats to resemble cigarettes, and then meets up with anybody who prepaid for their order real casual-like to fence ‘em. He gets a little cut of the profits, and a discount when he’s picking up for pleasure instead of business--like a (slightly) more illegal girl scout cookie racket.

Jasper (Underfell Sans): Him? He’s just an average joe in all respects. He’s got a little auto shop, spends his days tuning up cars and bikes and such as the like, and most evenings out having fun with anybody else who’s out looking to have a good time--food and drink and maybe a little gambling, but small games, low stakes, for charity, yanno? Nothing illegal, he’d freely assure anyone concerned about the law. Yep, he’s a perfectly normal, law-abiding citizen...as far as anyone can tell. If he does a little work on the side, when specifically requested to, by perhaps one of his monarchs or one of the parties they’d approved to ask for his...services... Well, he’s certainly too quick and clean about it to leave any hard evidence behind, and he’s always far away from...whatever may have happened...with too many witnesses all in agreement that he was there and couldn’t have been anywhere else, unless he could somehow make it across town in the blink of an eye. (His side-gig is as a hitman. He keeps his shortcut ability very tightly under wraps to make for perfect alibis, and takes his targets out with magic bullets which he can disappear afterwards. If he’s ever somehow implicated in anything, he’s happy to point out to the nice officers that he doesn’t even own a weapon. They’re free to look, but all they’ll find is a set of knuckledusters he keeps on his person, purely for protection--and look how shiny the brass is, never even been used, officers! Guess they’ve got nothing on him, after all...)

Pyre (Underfell Papyrus): A law-abiding citizen. He must be--surely one can’t get more law-abiding than a lawyer...right? He actually does keep his (lack of) nose clean, but studying the convoluted mess that is human law doesn’t leave time for much else--even when your studies are funded by royalty and you’re given everything you need to open up your own practice as soon as you’ve passed the bar. Still, his skill and knowledge in arguing the law is very valuable and his services are in high demand, so he’s well-compensated for his chosen career and lives his life outside of it both comfortably and legally. His clients...are innocent until proven guilty and it would be an extreme failing of his duty to give any of them anything less than his best in the courtroom, regardless of their character, their associations, and what they happen to have been accused of. (Yeah, he’s a mob lawyer, used almost exclusively by Asgore and Toriel to protect them and anyone they send to him and all of their collective...interests. He respects the law, but values justice above it, so in spite of having a lot of clients who are definitely criminals in one way or another, he has no trouble sleeping at night.)

Mal (Swapfell Sans): He’s an accountant, nothing more, nothing less. ...For Toriel, of course, so he’s paid well for his services. And he has quite a head for numbers and figures, so he plays the stock market and does quite well there, too, smart investments and reading the writing on the wall, and all that. It’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for his very healthy finances and his lavish lifestyle--fur coats, fine suits, fancy cars, shiny gold pocket-watches-- it’s all expensive and almost over the top, but hey, he is the money-man and all the numbers check out. It seems that he’s just very good at handling and investing his capital, it’s no wonder the monster-queen herself hired him on... (He is, of course, running several money laundering schemes at any given time, taking all the less-than-legally-obtained money earned by constituents of the [former] Empire and layering it through official channels to make it look legal in such a convoluted, complex web that it doesn’t raise any significant red flags. He’s got his claws in a lot of pies, and he takes what he needs off the top to live a little luxuriously, with Toriel’s knowledge and permission-- a perk for the necessary service he provides.) Whatever else may be true, it’s a simple fact that he’s very, very good at his job.

Rus (Swapfell Papyrus): With the lucrative career his brother has, the lucky SOB doesn’t have to work a day in his life if he doesn’t want to, but he’s using the safety net to pursue his passion in art. Subjective as it is, it’s hard to say if he’s really any good, but people seem to like what he produces well-enough--not a household name, but people passionate about the subject might recognize his work and his pieces sell with at least moderate success. For all that it’s probably not going to make him famous or rich(er than his brother), he’s dedicated to his craft and regularly makes bulk purchases of his supplies, canvas and reams of paper and paint and ink and the like, to keep up his steady work and art sales. He seems like an altogether normal and down-to-earth sort of guy, nothing suspicious about him at all. (He’s a counterfeiter and works in tandem with his brother--they even hit a Bureau together to lift a set of plates for the one and only active crime he was involved in--and his art is just a really good cover for why he needs so much ink and paper and other supplies on a regular basis. He does love and care about his art career, that part’s not fake, but he’s also got a good eye-socket for detail and steady hands to replicate it, and if fake human money that looks really real can help monsters, he doesn’t really see why he shouldn’t.)

Slate (Horrortale Sans): He’s...been through a lot. All monsters have, really, but he was hit kind of especially hard and... Whatever Gerson, or Undyne, or whoever’s running things now up on the Surface are getting involved in...he doesn’t really want any part of it. He gets regular stipends for some unspecified ‘service’ he performed for the Queen, Underground, and while no human (alive) knows what that was, it’s apparently enough to live off of relatively comfortably without being employed himself. He has a nice little place with his brother on the outskirts of the city and he lives there quietly, peacefully. He rarely goes into town, just the occasional walkabout, stopping at restaurants or scoping out the architecture. (Part of his one concession to being left out of whatever illegal, mob-type business may or may not be going on: he needs a good mental map of the city and at least a few landmarks that he’ll definitely remember, because he’s the emergency evac should...anything...go especially south. The house phone doesn’t ring too often in the middle of the night, but when it does, he needs to know where he needs to be, and quick.)

Papy (Horrortale Papyrus): He’s, ah... not involved in any ‘business’ either, but he does spend a little more time out of the house, at the local hospital. He was allowed to make a study of human medicine and become a nurse by Very Special Exception--mostly due to some friends (or at least one) in high places, and some very backwards human attitudes about parts that constitute a ‘man’ and how a skeleton without any parts could perhaps be allowed into nursing--and he’s proven himself a valuable member of staff and even made friends with all of his coworkers. He’s happy at his job, and with his life, and returns home to his quiet, peaceful house every night with a smile. (He has a go-bag ready by the phone for those late night calls, though, full of healing items and medical equipment he may have subtly nicked from the hospital, just so he has everything he needs to treat a monster or a friendly human that may have gotten hurt...somehow...and for reasons they have no need to specify, can’t risk going to a doctor.)

Ash (Undergloom Sans): Just a poor street musician...or at least, that’s what most people figure, ‘cause he doesn’t dress too well and the trombone he plays while sitting out on the sidewalk looks like it’s probably the nicest thing he owns. He gets a couple bucks from time to time, but rarely any second glances, and that... That works in his favor. You’d be surprised how much people talk about when they think nobody’s listening (or at least...nobody important) and he can pick up a lot of interesting information of what’s going on in the city just by setting up in the right spot and waiting for folks to talk business. He’s pretty quiet when he’s not tooting the ol’ horn and great at blending into the background, and that’s made him the guy to go to when you want to know something--like how much somebody else knows, or if there are any plans in place for say, a raid or a sting or some kind. (Law enforcement is the worst about keeping proprietary information ‘proprietary’ when they think their only audience is some nobody monster bum sleeping on a bench...) He’s also got something of a whole information network going on with the actual homeless people in the city, since he gives great tips about places who are hiring or somewhere to get a meal or a bed for the night and he always gives his earnings from busking to those who need it more than him. He’s paid for the service he provides and he’s got a home to go back to, it just seems right that the music-money goes to help somebody else.

Yrus (Undergloom Papyrus): He works as a nanny for the Queen! Not too long ago, she might’ve opted to just stay home and look after her newly adopted child herself, while Asgore handled business with the humans, but... They’re freshly split now, and Toriel wants to be just as involved in things as Asgore as much as she wants to s l o w l y ease into being a full-time mother again. Yrus is the solution, already fond of little Frisk and a very warm and trustworthy soul who stayed bright even in the gloom of the Underground. He happily takes the job when asked and splits his time between supervising and caring for Frisk, and tutoring them in all the important subjects (math, history, magic, et cetera). He finds he has a passion for teaching and thinks he might go into that someday, when Frisk is older and Toriel has a little more time and confidence to no longer need him as a buffer. (Whatever it is, specifically, that takes up so much of Toriel’s time and keeps her out so late that he sometimes has to wait around well past Frisk’s bedtime for her to come back and ask after them... Yrus couldn’t fathom a guess and isn’t going to ask any questions. That would definitely be out of his scope as a simple child-minder and even if he knew anything, it would be an extreme violation of the family’s privacy for him to tell tales, which he’s happy to point out to anyone with a lot of questions for somebody so close to two of the Dreemurrs.)

Brick (Horrorfell Sans): He’s on his brother’s payroll. It seemed like the best way to kill two birds with one stone: he’s a big, scary-looking wall of bone who isn’t well suited to a regular-joe sorta job, and his bro’s a very high-profile guy who needs somebody big and scary-looking to stand next to him and be a deterrent. Nepotism, maybe, but they’ve been looking after each other their whole lives already and it’s something Brick knows he can do--he’d do it for free, but if King thinks it’s better (and safer) to have it as his job description, he’s probably right, so Brick’ll take the paycheck for it. King’s also very likely the only one who could stop him if he...lost control...somewhere out and about, so sticking close to him makes Brick feel better and hey, maybe they’re actually killing three birds with this stone of an arrangement. Still, he mostly just goes about town with King, standing around and watching his back and staring people down when he needs to while his brother carries on with his conversations and business. He hardly ever has to do anymore than that...almost never. (One of his favorite places to go is a little hole-in-the-wall craft shop, where King always pretends to take longer than he needs so Brick can peruse the yarn and try to pick up a little sign language from the nice old deaf lady who owns the place.)

King (Horrorfell Papyrus): Yes, yes, he’s very high profile--he did lead monsterkind for a time, getting everyone up to the Surface and settled there--but he’s since stepped down. He’s retired, and anything his successor may be involved in... surely, he couldn’t say. He and Toriel are barely in contact and the money he receives from her on the regular is a gift of goodwill, mostly for medical expenses (his leg, and his brother’s...well). All he does these days is collect for a charity, a pet project of his, Monster Reparations. Lots of people give such generous donations when he goes around to ask for them, maybe impressed a little by his fame, but he can’t feel too terribly about using it for such a worthy cause... (It’s a thinly veiled protection racket and the people and businesses who buy into it tend not to fall victim to ‘mysterious’ criminal activity. Toriel may be officially calling the shots now, but King, as the monster who put her back there, is in a very unique position of power in having her ear, an unofficial underboss totally off the books. Some ‘donate’ more than necessary when he comes collecting, hoping to earn preferential treatment, and sometimes they get it and sometimes they don’t--it’s entirely down to King’s opinion of them personally. ...The old woman who runs the craft store pays about half the going rate, and the immigrant who imports the miniature trees he likes gets a heavy discount, too. The deli-owner he overheard hurling discriminatory epithets at a customer, however, pays triple. You get the idea.)

Merc (Horrorswap Sans): He’s a researcher. Highly confidential, he’s sworn to secrecy and even mentioning that he’s being funded by Elder King Shroomba is pushing the boundaries of what he’s allowed to talk about. Still, he has his own facility, and several assistants, monster volunteers and sometimes human ones--but they have to sign papers swearing not to talk about what goes on in the lab, too. From what they are allowed to say, the gist is just that it didn’t seem like anything sinister was going on; not even a blood-draw... Merc seems pretty happy to leave at the end of every day, though, and whenever it comes up, he talks very fondly about being able to finish the project. (He’s researching DT, specifically how it can be used to enhance monster physiology and make them more resistant to damage from intent. Merc’s misadventure with DT destabilized him, but from 1HP he’s now more durable than ever, and his second attempt with his brother had less dramatic but still noticeable and successful results. The king wants that safety net for more monsters, especially ones who are on the front lines of...potentially less than legal dealings...who could really be at risk. Merc is reluctant, but with the stipulation of informed, willing volunteers for DT extraction and infusion, he can’t bring himself to turn down the resources and funding to research his own condition and bring the possibility of being normal again ever closer. He still has a hard time with the idea of ‘enhancing’ monsters, but the fact that it’s at least being done safely, willingly, and with a whole team behind it this time helps a lot.)

Ell (Horrorswap Papyrus): He’s in a wheelchair but not letting it keep him down, and he’s running a modest little newspaper stand on the corner--papers and magazines and cheap books--nothing all that special but boy, what an inspiration, good for him that he’s got a job and can run the place by himself! All kinds come and go from his stand, and sometimes he closes it up for a little bit in the middle of the day to take a...er...roll, with some people who must be friends of his, but he’s never gone too long, so nobody says anything to the poor guy about the inconvenience. He’s a dedicated businessman, or trying to be; won’t even let people help him with those heavy-looking boxes of deliveries he gets, and for a fella with no legs, he seems to be doing his best! (...The whole thing is a low-key smuggling operation and he is making bank off it. There’s a system of code-words in place related to the publications he sells for a ‘customer’ to indicate whether they’re buying or selling, and what--magic consumables, stolen/hot items, imported goods, the works--and where and when they want things to go down. There’s even hidden compartments in his custom-built wheelchair for some of the riskier stuff, because he knows no cop in their right mind would force a guy with no legs out of his chair just to search it with witnesses around. And that’s presuming any law enforcement were to even catch wise to his set-up, which he kind of doubts: he’s sly and subtle and even if he weren’t, he knows people see the chair before they see him. Why not take advantage of that?)

Pitch (Horrorswapfell Sans): He makes his living as a boxer, and a subsequent minor celebrity. Pretty much any match he’s in is an exhibition match--not just a monster, not just a little guy (...relatively), but a short skeleton monster who’s blind, wow! You don’t see that every day, that’s a spectacle! Plenty of ‘ooh’s and ‘ahh’s in the packed stands every night the sightless skeleton scrapper is in the ring and nobody can figure out how he bobs and weaves so well that he hardly ever gets hit. He loses some matches, that’s to be expected, even for a ‘normal’ fighter, but hey, people love an underdog story, so when he wins, it’s an uproar every time. (For his part, Pitch hates most of his ‘fans’ who think of him the same way they probably think of a silly little dog who learned a funny trick, but the fame in general, and the thrill of the fight... Those are enough to keep him in the ring. Just... maybe not quite enough to keep him fighting clean. He’s as dirty as sportsmen come and he and a few other monsters regularly play his own odds with the bookies: he’ll subtly use magic to cheat and stay in longer, or go down when he could easily keep fighting, whatever’s more profitable with the over/under from match to match. If he’s going to be a circus act doing what he loves, he may as well get hazard pay for his dignity... and y’know, a couple of idiots who think being able to fight is a ‘trick’ because you’re blind aren’t nearly so annoying when you’re being driven away from them in a luxury car, to your expensive house in the hills decked out with all the amenities.)

Nemo (Horrorswapfell Papyrus): He’s got a place he looks after, keeps things running. Just a small joint, nothing fancy, a little cabaret variety show type place--singing, dancing, drinks on tap, that kinda thing. After dark, some of the...performances... might get a little more risqué, stuff that titillates like burlesque and striptease, but rest assured, his permits are all in order and everything’s on the up and up. Nothing illegal whatsoever going on here, just a bit of singing and dancing and everybody having a good time. (Most of the performers are sex workers--monsters, but some humans too--and patrons can negotiate private shows or off-the-clock ‘meetings’ at their discretion. Nemo opts to not know too much of the details of what his dancers do when he’s not looking, for legal reasons, but he makes sure they have a safe place to do it, are paid for their services, and don’t have repeat problem-patrons if any slip through. Being one of the gentlemen running such an establishment in the city that doesn’t happen to touch or steal from or mistreat the performers, his place is the place to get hired if that’s your line of work. He’s mostly just happy to be able to provide the job security and the job safety for a group that really seems to catch a lot of hell up here on the Surface just for how they make their money.)

Sunny (Gastertale Sans): He’s a busy guy, bouncing around from place to place, job to job... Being so scattered, you might think he’d be having money troubles by now, but while he may not be the type to stick with one thing and stay there for a good few years, nobody who knows him would say he’s unreliable--he’s the type of guy that you can give him a call anytime and if you need help, he’ll be right over, and he’ll get the job done well, too! Of course he lives with his fancypants brother, and the King and Queen probably spot him a loan or two now and then, since they’re friendly, so all in all, no one really wonders how he makes enough money to live so comfortably. The answer’s right there in their face...isn’t it? (Yes and no. He is the kind of guy you can call anytime to get a job done, and he will do it well, but the money he gets from Asgore and Toriel is less of a ‘loan’ and more of a ‘payment for services rendered.’ He’s a cleaner, the guy you call to make things go away, things that aren’t supposed to be there: stains, papers, weapons, evidence... He’ll get rid of it for you, and if you need a convincing coverup or an alibi for...whatever it is that you weren’t there doing, he’ll take care of that, too. If somebody’s calling him up for his special brand of help, they probably just want to put it all behind them and forget all about that nasty business. He’s happy to facilitate--after all, what are friends for?)

Aster (Gastertale Papyrus): Like his brother, he gets on well with the King and Queen. (They both feel like they’ve known the monarchs much longer than they actually have...somehow...) But in any case, unlike his brother, Aster is very well-organized and thoughtful, so he’s a natural choice as an...advisor, of sorts, when monsters surfaced and it was...decided that perhaps there would be some...activities and...ways of doing things that...should remain unknown to the humans. Not unknown to Aster: he keeps track of everything, reminding the monarchs of little details they may have forgotten, pointing out things they may not have noticed, making educated suggestions for courses of action with likely positive outcomes based on past experiences... He’s the linchpin between Asgore and Toriel that makes them terrifyingly more efficient than they would be without him, a consigliere-equivalent who certainly isn’t a boss himself, but he has the bosses’ trust and their ears and that makes him a person of great interest. But...no one can get anything useful out of him: he’s loyal, above all, and much as he values truth, he also realizes that perhaps not everyone deserves to know the full truth of everything, especially not those who might use that truth to bring some sort of harm or misfortune to his friends...or to monsterkind at large. ...And trying to directly seize his extensive notes on the private and personal business-doings of the Dreemurrs is an even more doomed endeavor--he writes them all in a strange jumble of symbols that no one’s ever seen, and the code-breakers never have it long enough to decipher anything useful before its back in his hands, reclaimed quite speedily after unlawful seizure of private property containing confidential information. Lots of well-meaning law enforcement have their sights set on him as some sort of criminal white whale, but the simile is all too accurate-- they’ll never catch him, and even if they do, there’ll be nothing to hold him on. He simply has too many friends (and family members) in very high, very useful places.

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bangtae-sohotddaeng · 4 years ago

Text

we’ll be counting stars | k.th. | 4

(^ gif cred: ON THE VOYAGE | pinterest)

pairing: idol!Taehyung x publisher!Reader

rating: nc-17 (for language and themes)

summary: You’d sworn off love and relationships forever. You were here to do your job - work with the biggest boyband of the world. Not forge friendships and...and whatever it was that you and Taehyung were building up with these sneaky glances. It was, to be very fair, your Chief Editor’s fault that you’d landed in this mess. Maybe you should quit your job? Maybe you should quit life -

Oh, he was staring again, and did he freaking lick his lips?

warnings: swearing (reader’s got a potty mouth) + this is set like 5 years in the future + reader has emotional issues, she's a relationship phobe + mentions of weed

genre: so much ANGST ugh + fluff + comedy + some crack

words: 4.6 k

note: hey, y'all. i know i've been awol and i'm really sorry about it, but, well - first i went back to uni for a while and got busy with my classes and my boyfriend. but this lasted for, like, barely three weeks, and then i came back home and got covid. yep, i finally got unlucky. my parents got it, too, after me, and the three of us had been home quarantined and getting treated for the past month or so. we're in better health now, though, so i'm getting back into writing. here's hoping i pick up speed super quick! 💜

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series masterlist

gimme feedback, much much appreciated!

Your first week of heading this project with all its roadblocks and exhaustion, as it turned out, had merely been a taste of what was to come.

Your Wednesday at work began on a positive note, though.

Towards the middle of the day, your phone rang, making both you and Jungkook jump.

Cursing, you pursed your lips at Jungkook apologetically, and fished the device out. He nodded at you with a chuckle.

Looking at your phone screen, you realised this was a call you'd been waiting for.

“Hello?” you answered.

“Hello, ma’am. I’m calling to inform you that we’re done.”

Your eyebrows immediately hiked up your forehead. “Wow, really? That’s great news!”

“Yeah, the cleaners will be in tomorrow morning. You can move in by tomorrow evening.”

You actually grinned. “That’s such fantastic news! Thank you so much, Mister Lin. I’ll initiate your payment later, today.”

“Anytime, ma’am. Thank you.”

You disconnected the call with a happy sigh. Jungkook squinted at you. “That sounded like a fun conversation.”

You nodded, smiling. “Our team is moving into an apartment, tomorrow.”

“Wow! You’ve been in the hotel for what, ten days now? Must feel nice!” Jungkook’s eyes sparkled.

You nodded with a sigh, shutting your eyes in relief. “Oh, yes. We’d made reservations at the hotel for fifteen days. We had to move into the apartments within this week. This feels so amazing. I’ll finally be able to prepare my own food.”

Jungkook giggled at that, scrunching his nose up. “Where’s the apartment? Hope it isn't too far.”

“Oh, no, it’s a few blocks away from here. Which is why we had to book a hotel in the first place. We needed two four-bedroom apartments on the same floor, in this specific radius, in three days.” You paused to laugh when Jungkook’s jaw dropped with a gasp. “It was a very hard find. But our agent was sharp, he did a great job.” You clapped your hands together. “I cannot wait to check out of the damn hotel.”

Jungkook nodded in understanding. “Hotels are hard. It could be a seven star luxurious penthouse, but you’d still wanna run away from it after a while.”

He seemed to be speaking from his personal experience, but running away from a seven star luxurious penthouse? You couldn’t relate. You hated your hotel because the curtains weren’t dark enough and the mattress was stiff and you couldn’t afford getting any of them changed. You also hated having to order Chinese every single day, but you also knew you’d be emptying your bank account if you got anything else.

None of this would trouble someone living in a seven star’s penthouse. But you didn’t want to make Jungkook uncomfortable by stating any of this when he was just trying to be a bit compassionate and empathetic.

“Food doesn’t bother me that much, though,” Jungkook continued after a thoughtful pause. “We’re usually either on diets or order takeout. I personally hate the mattresses.”

“Oh yes,” you sighed deeply, the kink in your upper back in absolute agreement. “I’m not really a fan of sleeping anywhere other than my mattress back at home, but hotel beds are the worst of it.”

Jungkook chuckled, nodding. “I completely understand. You remember that story I told you about lugging my beddings over to our dorm when we first moved into one?”

You nodded with a laugh. “Oh, yes. The rest of the boys were getting new mattresses, and you were busy dragging your mattress from your parents’ house. It may sound hilarious, but it’s actually very relatable.”

Jungkook looked a bit bashful as he nodded. “You know, when we first started preparing for our first tour, I had a half a mind to take it with me.”

You barked out a loud laugh at that, the mental image of Jungkook dragging a seven by four piece of bedding around and stuffing it into trailers. He laughed, too.

“Yeah, it was funny and really stupid. Half the time we didn��t even get to sleep in the bed we had taken with us, but whenever we did, I was nodding off the second my head hit the pillow.” Jungkook’s eyes sparkled as he went down the memory lane. “That one was nothing in comparison to the tours we go on now, but it was our first ever experience so it was still pretty difficult adjusting, Tour schedule is a different level of hectic, you know? You don’t have time to eat, you don’t have time to sleep. Just rehearsals and fittings and sound checks. I would fall asleep in makeup chairs,” he confessed with a chuckle, shaking his head fondly, “and when noona would wake me up, I would recall how I wanted to bring my mattress here. Such naivete.”

You smiled, nodding along. You hadn’t yet gotten to the tour discussion yet, as it was planned out for the third month of your blueprint, so all of this was brand new to you. But, at this moment you didn’t want to bring up plans and blueprints. Jungkook was compassionately being candid with you. You were becoming friends, beyond your professional boundaries.

Sighing, you decided to impart something personal, too. “When I moved to the States and got into this company, I rented the apartment with an old friend who was already living there. And it wasn’t my first time living in a house away from my parents. I’d been a university student, lived in dorms then rented apartments, both solo and shared.” Jungkook looked at you pensively, nodding with a little furrow in his eyebrows. “But when I got to this apartment, got all this brilliant furniture set up, all new and fresh, I couldn’t sleep. I missed my home.” Jungkook’s eyes softened, lips pressing down into an understanding smile. “Not the dorm, not the studio I’d been renting—I missed my childhood bed.” You exhaled, recalling all your sleepless nights. “There's this connection you build with the place you call home. I’m sure you must have started to feel this way about your dorms as time went on.”

Jungkook softly smiled, nodding as he looked into space. “Very correct. Tour life made me realise this exact fact.”

You both sat in a few minutes’ quiet, basking in the nostalgic atmosphere you’d built around you.

Then Jungkook grinned at you. “Now you’ll get to experience real Seoul life.”

You laughed. “Oh, yes. And I honestly can’t wait for it. The local markets, the grocery stores, everything. Everything here is very unlike home.”

“I’m sure you’ll love it!” Jungkook exclaimed, wiggling his eyebrows smugly.

You went back to work soon after, with Jungkook tossing in questions about your move and suggestions about what all you should do in the city, every now and then.

It was a good, productive, joyous day. You were hardly even tired when you got back to your hotel to spend your last night on that stiff ass mattress.

Thursday had started off pretty much the same, except for you guys taking a slightly early departure to spare some extra time to set your new place up after your belongings were moved.

By late night, you were all settled in two, pleasant, well-furnished, well ventilated four-bedroom apartments, next to each other. Your housemates consisted of Sana and Simon. Needless to say, you weren’t a fan. But you needed a room to build the office in and you preferred it to be under the same roof as your bedroom because you tended to work odd hours when you couldn’t sleep. Simon and Sana volunteered to share the apartment with the office and you, so you didn't exactly have room for complaint.

From getting the apartment cleaned one last time to accept you all, to ensuring none of you had left anything significant behind in your hotel rooms—you didn’t trust the hotel staff enough to not misuse it if they found anything related to BTS in one of your rooms—you had been the one that took care of it all. It was kinda on you, because you didn’t trust anyone from your team to do the latter responsibly. So, quite naturally, you were dead on your feet by the time you got into your soft as a cloud beddings at nearly 3 o’clock in the morning. Sleep pulled you in the seconds you rugged your covers up.

You were very dead on your feet when you got to the BTS dorm, five hours after you’d gotten into bed. You hadn’t had a drop of alcohol in your system for more than a few weeks, now, but man did you have a hangover.

So it goes without saying that when you bumped into someone on your way to Jungkook’s studio, your eyes were half shut. You wouldn’t have thought much of it and might have slinked away with a mumbled apology, if not for the familiar voice than greeted you.

“Good morning. Looks like you had a rough night?”

You blinked, miles away from sleep within a second when your eyes met a familiar pair of brown ones. Taehyung was dressed in the routine BTS loungewear that consisted of a pastel t-shirt that was one too many sizes bigger on him and dark sweatpants that covered his feet. His hair was the usual black and curly, mostly pulled away from his forehead with a few tendrils dangling over his brows.

Your interaction with him had been meagre throughout this week, only consisting of respectful nods of greetings and waves of goodbyes. You’d meant to ask him how Simon was doing and how he felt about his ideas being taken now, after you’d had a talk with Simon about it. But you didn’t know what you would do if he said he was hating how things were and wanted you to do something about it. So you had kept your mouth shut and watched from the sidelines as you tried to gauge Taehyung’s inner feelings by his facial expressions.

He was an extremely closed off guy, never really letting his face show what he was truly feeling. But sometimes you would catch him looking into space as if he was zoning out of his conversation with Simon. Now, he could very well be thinking deeply about something Simon said—you really couldn’t be sure with the guy. But it had you worried, nevertheless.

God. Why did Simon have to pick out Taehyung’s name?

By the time you realised you’d been staring at him for too long, he had realized it too. “Anything wrong with my… hair?” he innocently questioned, threading his fingers through the front of it.

“No!” you yelped, making him flinch. “I mean, no, it’s not that. I, um. We were moving into our apartments last night and it got kinda late. My brain’s processing things a bit slow, today.”

Taehyung chuckled at that, nodding with his teeth on display. “It’s okay. Congratulations on the move. Hotels suck.”

You sighed. “Tell me about it.”

Awkward silence hung over the two of you as you looked at the floor, at your feet, at his feet, tried to discern if his pants were very dark gray or blue, cleared your throat, scratched your ear, met his shifty eyes again—

“How…how is working with Jungkook?”

His question caught you off-guard. You looked at him in surprise. “Uh…it’s, um. It’s good. Very comfortable, very productive. It’s great, actually.”

Taehyung nodded, pursing his lips as he looked down again. “Simon has been a better listener this week. Did you talk to him?”

A weight was lifted off your shoulders on hearing that. You grinned at him with all your teeth. “Really? That is really good to know. Comforting, even. I did talk to him, yes.”

Taehyung looked into your eyes as his lips spread into a slow, soft smile. “Thank you so much for doing this for me. I thought you would think I was stupid for demanding so much, but…” He shrugged his shoulder, one corner of his lips ticking farther up his cheek. “You made it work. I feel so much better now.”

You exhaled, willing your heart to not beat so fast. It was your job to ensure they were all comfortable, this was part of what you were getting paid for. But somehow, the way Taehyung seemed to have taken it so personally made you not wanna mention the fact in the moment.

Also, he didn’t know how this wouldn’t last. You’d been giving Simon tips to handle himself professionally around Taehyung, literally every single day. It kept the wheel running, but it was tiring both of you out, immensely. Simon was out of his element and you were getting slowly overwhelmed and under-rest due to the amount of responsibilities piling on for you. You were determined to talk this out with your boss, this Sunday, and find a way out before you broke.

Right now, though, you gave Taehyung a bashful smile. “I wanted you to be comfortable and feel good about working on this project, Tae. I am constantly working out plans to better it.”

Taehyung looked at you with so many emotions swimming in his eyes, that the intensity of it almost made you wanna look away. But you didn’t. Instead, you tried to decode what any of it could mean.

This time the silence between you two was not awkward in the least. It was charged—heavy with this unknown tautness between your mind and heart and this indecipherable look in Taehyung’s eyes.

“Tae?”

The trance was broken by Jin, startling both of you.

He walked into the halfway from behind Taehyung, peering around him with a frown. His eyes widened when he saw you. You immediately bowed, always extremely cautious about being respectful around BTS’ oldest member. “Good morning, Jin-ssi.”

He chuckled at your address, insisting that you didn’t have to bow every single time. ��Just the respectful good morning is fine. Did you just get here?”

You nodded, subtly glancing at Taehyung whose eyes were slightly rounded and still stuck on you. Why was he acting like you two were caught by Jin? You’d just been greeting each other and catching up!

Right?

Right.

“Ah! There comes Riya!” Jin suddenly announced the arrival of his partner on your team, cutely waving at someone behind you.

Your teammate Riya walked into the hallway after you, having walked here on her own insistence. “Good morning, Jin-ssi. Taehyung-ssi. Boss.”

You smiled at her, nodding in acknowledgement of the respect she paid. “Where’s Simon?” you questioned.

“Just here!” the man himself responded, rushing in after Riya.

You met Taehyung’s eyes, and he nodded with a meaningful look and a small smile on his lips. Your heart felt light.

The unexpectedly happy and positive start you’d gotten in the morning lasted with you the whole day, making your time with Jungkook a lot fun, and fulfilling in terms of work, too.

When Sunday came in and you received your boss’ call, her first question was about how well you were settled in the apartments, followed by how you’d handled things with Simon. You had done a decent job on the former, but the latter was gradually turning out to be a pain in your ass. You told your boss as much.

“Drag it out for another week, and then design a change of gameplan. If he really isn’t doing a good enough job by himself, it’s better if he works with someone else. This whole charade will tire both of you out. And V would be facing issues, too, if Simon’s heart isn’t into it.” Your boss had looked at you solemnly through the computer screen.

“Simon’s heart’s a bit too much into it, boss, that’s the whole issue.” You had derisively chuckled at your joke, but her words had left you thinking into the late hours of the night.

Taehyung had definitely been facing issues, you’d heard it from the man himself. And the respite he thought he’d gotten this week was momentary, because neither you nor Simon could honestly keep up with it for too long. And it was very unfair to Taehyung. This book was supposed to showcase a part of all the boys. A biography was the culmination of one’s whole life—something very personal, precious and endearing. The process of its creation should have been a similar experience for the boys, too.

You really would have to assign someone else to Taehyung.

On Monday morning, you knocked at Simon’s door at seven.

“Just this week, and then you switch,” you told him.

“Really? Oh, my God, thank you so much!” Simon cried out.

“Please accommodate him the best you can.” You sighed. “I’m too tired to give you notes everyday. Will you be able to manage?”

“I’ll accommodate him the best I can, just as you said.”

You hadn’t taken his word for it, but it seemed like the knowledge of his misery ending soon had done Simon well. He did a fair job of maintaining his professional composure, and on Tuesday, when you went in to grab a cup of coffee from the kitchen, you saw the two of them laughing about something, too. Taehyung had politely greeted you, exchanging more than a nod for the first time in more than ten days—minus that one altercation in the hallway, of course—and then immediately went back into the discussion.

He seemed to be really into it.

It made you feel a lot better.

On Friday, you and Jungkook went for a walk by the pool in the late afternoon with a cup of ice cream in your hands. He brought up Taehyung, asking how the elder was doing.

“You told me he was having some trouble with his partner?” Jungook asked, biting into a huge glob of chocolate ice-cream like a maniac and braving the brainfreeze with a straight face.

You grimaced at the sight. Then exhaled, plopping a spoonful from your own ice cream into your mouth. “He’s doing a lot better, now. It might not last, though”

Jungkook, instead of quizzing your ominous statement, nodded in understanding. “Does it have something to do with what I told you about hyung’s personality?”

You sighed. “Pretty much. We might have to change his partner.”

Jungkook paused at that. “Is there a possibility that…” He trailed off, confused, doe eyes looking at you.

You couldn’t lie to him. You shrugged. “Everything’s on the plate.”

On Sunday evening, you decided to gather the team for the call with your boss. Sending them a quick message once you all got home, you hopped into the bathroom for a long, relaxing showe.

When you came back, you stepped into your office to the welcome sight of your team occupying bean bags and chairs and spread across the entire surface area of the place.

Collectively, you all brought up Taehyung’s partner with the Editor-in-Chief.

“Why don’t you do it, Y/N?” your boss questioned you after the rest of them had briefed her with their progress so far and detailed out their future plans with their assigned boys.

You sighed. “I have been doing just as great as the rest of them, boss. It wouldn’t be ideal for me to stop working with Jungkook after we’ve been making such great progress.”

Your boss took her glasses off, the highlight on her nose glistening as her movement caught light. She shook her and then sighed. “One of you is going to have to make a sacrifice.”

Simon, rightfully, flinched with a guilty face.

“So either you talk one of your team members into doing it, or you do it yourself. You’ve got one whole week to discuss it. Tell me what you decide, next Sunday.”

You kept tossing and turning in your bed. You’d either have to force one of your team members. Or you’d have to disappoint Jungkook. Your prospects really weren't looking good.

You would like to believe you and Jungkook had become friends in these three weeks. It is impossible to remain a stone-faced stranger with someone literally relaying the story of his entire life to you. And besides that, too, Jungkook was a very likeable guy. He was a curious soul with a myriad of interests. Taking notes on literally every topic would always branch out into an enthusiastic conversation between the two of you.

Sighing as you recalled how the two of you had shared your roller-skating experience with each other just today, you shut your eyes and decided to finally go to sleep.

On Monday morning, your team members were gathered in your new office to begin with the scripting process of the biography. As you got down to comparing notes and checking off boxes, each one of you resolutely ignored the gigantic elephant in the room—that fact that one of you would not be working with the same person when this week was up.

Strangely, this forcible change of partners was weighing down on all of you not just because of how much more labour it would cost, but on an emotional level, too. Which was a very unfamiliar concept, at least to you. You never got attached to clients, knowing it would only cause hindrances when you had to criticize their work—which was why they were talking to you in the first place. You had been somewhat lucky too, in a way, because it wasn't easy for you to get attached to people.

But Jungkook turned out to be just a really easy person to get along with. You really had become friends.

This, you suddenly realised, would also mean that Jungkook would make friends with another partner just as easily.

“Guys, remember—it’s not just their story that we’re writing, it’s ours too!” you announced to your team, clapping your hands to raise their spirits as the six of them worked on their computers. “They’re the narrators, sure, but we are the writers. Use your words wherever you find fit, do not hesitate to trim, omit or add. This is what we were hired to do.”

At noon, you all ordered takeout and took a break.

“We’re all really on schedule, boss,” Riya, Jin’s partner, spoke up from her spot across the room from you. Her rounded eyes narrowed suddenly, and she winced. “Well… except Simon, but we kinda already expected that.”

Simon, seated on a bean bag to your immediate right, cleared his throat. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled.

“You’ve been really shitty at your job, Si,” Areum, Jimin’s partner, commented, looking at Simon through her round framed glasses, her face displaying disappointment.

“He really has,” you added. “But it cannot go on like this. You’ll have to be really professional with your partner, this time round, Simon. You’ve really done a lot of damage with Taehyung. Boss won’t just pull you off the project if something like this happens again, she’ll fire you.”

Simon visibly gulped, nodding with his wide eyes fixated on you.

“So, who’s gonna take his place?” Nathan, Yoongi’s partner, butted in, prompting Sana to stop stretching. “Have you decided yet?” he asked you.

You exhaled. “Why not ask dear Simon who he wants to work with? The last time he kept protesting about the assigned choice, and I didn't listen. Maybe he’d have done better if the selection of his partner was voluntarily done by him.”

All eyes turned to Simon. He cleared his throat, looking beyond nervous. “Please don’t put me in this spot. One of you will have to let go of a month’s worth of hard work for me, as it is.”

You looked around the room. “Any one of you willing to switch?”

Five pairs of eyes turned to look at you incredulously. “No one’s gonna willingly give their research up for you, Simon,” Charlotte, the only redhead on your team and Hoseok’s partner, spoke with a roll of her eyes. “None of us.”

“Simon,” You sighed. “Choose.”

And then Simon squeezed his eyes shut and fisted both his hands to whisper, “Jungkook…maybe?”

Of fucking course.

Later that night, you had calmed yourself down enough to tell yourself that everything was gonna be okay. You could be a darn hardass professional when you needed to be. In fact, being humble and empathetic was usually what posed a challenge to you. You would very smoothly transition into working with Taehyung, you were sure of it.

You belatedly thought about how much change these past three weeks had already brought about in your nature. You were starting to show a lot more compassion than you’d thought yourself capable of. That kind of came in this job’s description, because biographies made people vulnerable, and vulnerable interviews required compassion.

You had to unlearn some of the things you’d picked up over the span of your adult life to save yourself from hurt, and also the guilt that came with hurting others. Jungkook also helped, in a way. His openness and just the overall cheerful vibe that his nature eluded made you want to be more of a friend to him than a writing guide or an interviewer.

You wondered how Taehyung would be.

There was something undeniably intense and mysterious about him. Now, you weren’t naive enough to want to “unravel” the guy’s mysteries, but you sure were irked and curious. Maybe he was one of those kinds of artists that literally lived in their art.

Back when you didn’t work in this company with this hectic schedule and had enough spare time on your hands to write, you used to pride yourself to be one of these kinds of artists, too. You lived in your stories, kept building characters up wherever you went, whatever you did. You wondered if it was something similar with Taehyung for music.

You would find out, eventually. There was no point pondering it so much.

Sighing, you turned off your side lamp and decided to retire for the night.

Your writing week was gliding past smoothly. It was just Wednesday, and you all, ahead of the schedule, were at the verge of finishing up your writing parts.

“Are we super efficient or did we sign up for a longer duration of time than needed for this whole project?” Sana questioned, typing away on her laptop.

You snorted. “Or maybe, we didn’t design the blueprint with as much uniformity as we’re required to.”

“You don’t always have to critique everything, boss,” Charlotte, Hoseok’s partner chimed in, flipping her long mane of auburn hair off her shoulder as she shot you a look.

You glared right back at her. “Uh, actually, I do. That’s kind of my job here.”

You’d been harsher than was needed, making the whole room go quiet. Only the clicking of keyboards echoed around you all for a while.

“Where’s Simon?” Nathan, Yoongi’s partner, asked after some time.

You sighed. “In his room, finishing up his writing work there. He doesn’t feel comfortable sitting between all of us because, and I quote, y’all give off really judgy vibes that fuck with my concentration.”

“That might actually be true,” Areum, Jimin’s partner, mumbled in Korean under her breath.

“Did you mail Manager Woo about the switch yet, boss?” Nathan asked you as you got up to get a refill of your coffee.

You exhaled. “Nope, I'm stalling,” you confidently confessed, leaving the office to make a trip to the kitchen. On your way back, you knocked at Simon’s door before peeking in. “You doing okay?” you asked him flatly.

Simon gave you a nod, not moving his gaze from the laptop screen. You rolled your eyes and came back to the office.

“Should one of us do it? If it won’t look too unprofessional?” Sana asked.

You wrinkled your nose. “It would look grossly unprofessional, Sana.” You pursed your lips as you sat behind your laptop again. “Fine, I’ll do it right now.”

You took a sip from your coffee, and opened your email. This was final, now — no coming back.

You were officially gonna start working with Kim Taehyung.

gimme feedback, much much appreciated!

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border-spam · 4 years ago

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Leech Lord - Beginnings and regrets

The single least Seifa thing Seifa has ever done, is probably also the most actual Seifa thing she's ever done, and that's extremely Seifa of her.

It was going against every lesson survival had beaten into her so far in her life, and helping Tyreen instead of walking away all those years ago.

(Pre CoV)

Pandora is a terrible place.

The whole Galaxy is, Pandora just has a reputation that's honest about it.

The Edens, Athenas, Promethea, Tantalus, every city on every settled planet is built on a foundation of bones, nowhere's really safe or actually wants the humans that settled uninvited and ruined the neighborhood. Can't really expect an ecosystem to welcome you with open arms when you immediately start destroying it for profit, and life ain't easy anywhere. Nowhere is good. Nowhere is nice.

You can't live for long without finding out how dangerous "caring" is.

Small family units survive, yeah, clans scrabble out a living on rock plains and migrant space-rigs, but if you hold out a hand to a stranger in need you need to know the risks, need to really understand how likely it is that there's a knife behind their back and a couple of crosshairs already trained on you.

You have to be harsh, you have to be cruel. Everyone who makes it on the border planets knows the unwritten rules.

Unless you've the backing of a town militia or a hell of a lot of weaponry, you can't afford to risk your own safety for others - and Sei has walked past more people who gasped out a desperate plea for help with one of the few breaths they had left then she could ever, ever let herself acknowledge. Fuck man, everyone has. It's one of the sad truths of living at the knifepoint everyone balances on out here at the fringe.

...It's no different really on the corporate ones, the blades waiting to land in your back are just better dressed there.

So, when Seifa went to walk away from that filthy kid in the junkyard with the busted SMG and found herself stopping as the girl pleaded for medicine, that was beyond out of character.

That was weird. That was impossible to justify, and she lost plenty of nights to trying to do so after - long ones, with tears and far too much whiskey.

It's hard to think back on, how unsettling and stomach turning that first month had been. The whole thing feels like a blur, some grease smeared memory that's mostly lost to the desperately anxious conflict that was going on in her head the entire time. She can remember specific points, but they're half images half feeling, nerves and worry all tangled together into something she hates dwelling on.

She remembers the heat mirages swirling above the desert sands as Elpis set on the horizon, driving the girl out across the salt flats as Ty panicked and urged Sei to go faster, all while she was trying to explain to herself WHY she hadn't slapped this stranger out of her buggy and throttled in the opposite direction. What had gotten into her?

She doesn't remember anything that the kid had said as she was lead by her into that dark shack, still battling with why she wasn't turning around, why she was gingerly picking through debris to reach what looked like a hastily set up camp surrounded by rusting sheet metal and pieces that used to be the hovel - but she remembers the stink of fever sweat that wrinkled her nose and that sad mound of sharp angles heaped at the center by a burnt out fire pit, and the shock of realising it was a man when Tyreen had dropped to her knees and begged through sobs for him to keep breathing.

That she had "Found someone to help."

Recalls fighting back the equal disgust she felt with herself for helping carry the nothing he weighed out of that shithole, and for the fact he was still alive in this state. Covered in filth, blood, chunks of.. something, and reeking of puke and god knows what else. How she chewed at her lip till she tasted copper as the buggy engine rattled in complaint under them, flooring it when she knew the shoddy weld job on the left axle wasn't going to take this strain and would need another couple of hundred dollars she didn't have in repairs by the time she got these pathetic kids back to her ship - and she remembers wincing hours later at her empty medical cabinet after gutting it to keep the boy alive.

Saline stock sucked dry, bactum wasted, and she was saving those health kits for when she might need them...

It was a bad decision. It was a stupid decision, and she'd spent that first night when the girl had cried herself to sleep and he'd finally stabilised, sitting on the cold floor of her quarters with her back pressed against the repurposed mag-lock door, cradling her pistol in her lap as she gnawed at her nails.

They were Sirens.

Sirens.

Moron. Stupid fucking twat, If Boss found out, he'd kill her before these two could get the chance.

Helping them had been idiot move enough, had gone against every fiber of who she'd built herself into, but she couldn't have known. Tyreen had been covered in rags, and Troy's markings too dim and caked in muck to even see before they'd gotten him cleaned up and stable.

She hadn't known. She didn't know, nothing about Sirens anyway, just that you didn't fuck with 'em in the first place. Sirens were bad news, Sirens were the bane of Pandora in the last few years and everyone knew the stories. They were monsters who could turn you inside out or roast you alive without needing to point a gun first, and now she had two in her home with no defenses bar a shitty Jacobs she knew damn well she could barely aim, and hopefully enough faux confidence to seem in control of the situation.

That first night had been the worst.

The twins slept fine, Troy out cold and Ty having cried herself unconscious shortly after his heart beat had become something possible to confuse with normal if you squinted at the scan display from the right angle, but Sei didn't close her eyes once.

Sat awake all night in the clunking, humming, rattling silence of her home as she thumbed the revolver's cylinder slowly, considering how each click marked another second she'd left them both alive instead of doing the right thing and emptying a round into each of their skulls. Pandora would take care of the bodies and she'd fix a serious mistake she was walking straight into... but the suns rose in the end, and the twins were none the wiser about how close the decision had actually been.

It didn't really get better. The fear did, that passed over the next couple of days, but not the worry, not the regret. Two more mouths to feed when she only had the funds for herself? The girl was going to have to learn how to work. The cash she'd put aside was for her junker colony, not strangers, and the boy still couldn't even stand... and how were things going to pan out even if they so far didn't seem to be quite as monstrous as she'd been told so many times in no name dive bars in settler towns?

What if she took Tyreen out on a barter run and her markings got noticed? That mad corporate fuckwad Sexy George or fuckin whatever had just been running some reward scheme for Sirens, right? Would the lowbrows she dealt with on a daily basis here comprehend that wasn't a thing anymore, or would Sei be shanked and Ty abducted within hours of setting foot in a trade dock?

And him...

What the fuck was she going to do with him.

He wouldn't talk, wouldn’t even look at her, just some massive, gangly, awkward, nervous child that ghosted around the edge of her vision and scurried out of the room like a panicked Skag pup if she made the mistake of looking directly at him.

Sick still, even if he was trying to stay in his crew cubby for less every day, the one she'd told him was his and still had not a word of thanks for yet. Shaky, delicate, and in no physical condition to be able to help around the ship yet alone have a chance of bringing in some extra dollars, even if he hadn't been missing such a huge chunk of himself. Pity wasn't going to keep him fed, and she was pissed with herself for feeling it for him in the first place.

She figured that's what had done it really... them being siblings.

That raw desperation in Tyreen's voice as she'd begged Seifa to help when she'd turned to walk away. That her brother was so sick and she didn't know what to do. Siblings gut punched her in ways she knew were a weakness out here. The twin thing? That had just cemented it really. Helping wasn't in Seifa's nature, but leaving kids to die wasn't in her bones.

Still, she'd make it work, she always did. They'd survive, and she'd come out of this in profit one way or another, that was as sure as an Athenian monk lowballing an offer.

She'd train the girl up and run some deals with her, cover the costs of helping them out with a tidy margin for herself - then she'd leave 'em with the tools to survive, a couple of hundred bucks to get started and never have to see them again.

She'd be fine. She was always fine.

That's very Seifa of her.

Asks are Open!

#borderlands #borderlands 3 #bl3 #troy calypso #tyreen calypso #seifa #leech lord #my hcs #my writing #fanfiction

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apple-grass-and-smiles · 5 years ago

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Leading Us Home

In an absolutely miraculous and never-to-be-seen-again series of events, inspiration struck twice in the course of 24 hours, so you get another Batcat story adapted from a Taylor Swift song and thousands of words in various chats about the meaning of home to Selina.

Summary: Selina has a motto: "You can't have a home if you don't have a house."

Selina, at her most basic, core self, has a pretty major issue with the word ‘home’. Like most important (but sad) ideas that become fundamental to understanding an individual, it’s an issue that started when she was a child. Selina remembers being six, maybe seven, the first time she got caught by the police. The officer was a large man who clearly was more interested in the baseball game going on in the background than Selina or the fact that she was so malnourished that you could count all her ribs if you bothered to give her more than a cursory glance. She can still see him bending down to look her in the eye, completely ignoring the bruises and cuts that covered every inch of her skin, and asking her where home was.

Even at the tender age of six or seven, Selina was smart enough to recognize that as a stupid question. So she gave it all the weight it deserved and simply shrugged before replying, “You ain’t got no home if you ain’t got no house.”

It’s a phrase that even now, at age 32, Selina Kyle stands by.

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When Selina was about 20, her mother sent her a letter. In it were far too many paragraphs where she apologized profusely for any of her words to feel even the slightest bit sincere. She would have happily burned the letter without a second thought if not for the picture included. In the partially ripped, incredibly stained photo stood a young Maria, eyes with bags beneath them, standing in front of a dilapidated brownstone with a tiny infant in her arms. The letter explained that the one-bedroom apartment had been home to Maria, Selina, and the unnamed photographer for the first year or so of Selina’s life. The address, Maria wrote, was 416 Lily Dr. and she hoped that maybe knowing where Selina had come would somehow help her know where she was going. The idea was, of course, completely stupid, because that building might have been where she learned to walk and say her first word and smiled for the first time, but the only record of those things were Maria’s memories and Selina was past the point of harboring any dreams that her mother would one day come back to share those distant memories with her daughter.

After all, you don’t have a home if all that’s left is a pitiful photo and an address for a house.

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St. Maria’s orphanage ended up being “home” for Selina until she was about 10 and had realized that sleeping underneath the bridge with a ratty blanket was better than sharing a twin bed with two other girls and having to dress up once a week to see if someone wanted to try and adopt her. (The nuns always described her as a free spirit, but everyone seemed to know that the term simply meant that Selina would never sit still long enough to make herself at home and would instead leave with a backpack full of your food and whatever she could snag from your wallet.) All in all, the orphanage wasn’t the worst place ever and she got off relatively easily in comparison to some of the other abandoned children she knew, but it also could never be mistaken for a home. Everything about the place, from the mismatched floor tiles to the peeling wallpaper that couldn’t seem to decide if it wanted to stay on the walls or accept it’s death, screamed of impermanence. Nothing and no one in the building wanted to stay. The girls wanted to go to families. The nuns wanted to go to mass. The hopes and dreams of everyone within wanted to go to people who could actually have a shot at realizing them.

To be fair to the nuns and the orphanage and the dying wallpaper, it wasn’t their fault. Everyone knows you can’t make a home out of a place meant for escaping.

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Selina was 13 when someone once again tried to give her an address to stay at. By 13 she was pretty certain homes and houses were meant for people with bank accounts and three meals a day and that she’d have to be content with squats and crash pads and surprisingly large cardboard boxes along the pier. She wasn’t particularly bitter about this information as much as she was ready for everyone to stop trying to prove her wrong.

But, sadly for her, Jim Gordon was the type of person who was incredibly determined to convince Selina that she was wrong so he arranged for her to stay with Bruce Wayne while the rookie cop attempted to track down the false leads she had given him. Even now, decades later, Selina can hear the creak of the large doors echoing as the butler opened the front door and welcomed Selina inside for the first time. By age 13 Selina felt quite confident that she had seen the best Gotham had to offer, but this mansion was something else entirely. It was the kind of place that could house every homeless kid she spoke to in a month and have none of them ever run into each other. She could have survived her entire life off of stealing the small, but priceless trinkets within the mansion. No one would even have noticed and she would have maybe been able to afford a nice sleeping bag.

Selina had wandered into the foyer as the adult men talked in the entryway. It was a strange place, the Wayne Manor, it seemed torn between proving that it belonged to the great and noble Wayne family and desperately attempting to convince you that you were safe and loved and understood by the people who lived within its walls. Everywhere there were signs of wealth, but there were also signs of someone, maybe the mother, working to make the manor a home. There were family photos, not portraits, on various walls, board games, so many records and record players that Selina stopped counting at 16, all of which seemed meant to serve only to encourage visitors to ignore the empty chill of the enormous rooms.

Selina, with all the wisdom of a 13-year-old who was tired of fake displays of love already, simply rolled her eyes and headed up the stairs to investigate a very nice blue and white vase. Didn’t the manor’s decorator know that a manor isn’t a house and you can’t have a home without a house?

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By age 17, Selina Kyle knew the Wayne Manor better than anyone else. Alfred would have, and did, argue with her about this particular statement, but she refused to relinquish the title. After all, he had arranged for the security system and he didn’t know if half as well as Selina did. (At the beginning of this years-long argument, Bruce had foolishly suggested that perhaps he was the one who knew the mansion best, which prompted Selina to throw her spaghetti bolognese at him while Alfred pretended to not notice; Bruce had quickly withdrawn his name from the competition.) Selina certainly didn’t live at the manor, but there was always the same room made up for her and ready should she ever decide to stop by. The room was nice and Bruce had even put a small stuffed cat on the bed sometime when she was 14, but it was not the room she spent the most time in. Instead, the little, informal kitchen and dining room was the spot in the manor that most captured her heart. She knew that room perhaps better than anywhere else in the world. She knew that the fourth wood plank from the door creaked and had memorized exactly how to walk to not make any noise. She knew that the bush of cornelias underneath the window by the sink smelled best during the summer rainstorms and that if you only opened the window a few inches you could enjoy the smell without letting any rain into the room. Looking back, she blessed every one of the moments she spent in that room with the rain gently tapping on the roof and the smell of the flowers filling the kitchen. (One time Bruce had bought her a cornelia flower perfume and the poor boy was baffled to discover that she refused to wear it when it wasn’t raining out.)

It was exactly one of these rainy afternoons when Selina realized that perhaps she was too close to the manor and its inhabitants. She had snuck in earlier than morning and helped herself to a sandwich before settling in in the kitchen. She knew Bruce and Alfred would be out and had been excited to see their faces when they returned to find an extra, unexpected person in the house. However, when they returned with bags full of groceries, they greeted Selina like she had been there the whole time and simply declined the offer to go grocery shopping, not as if she had broken in. Bruce had assured her that they had remembered to get her the pomegranate juice and granola bars she liked since she had run out last week and Alfred had reminded her that the sweater she had left there a couple days ago was at the dry cleaners and should be ready to be picked up later this afternoon if she would be so kind as to grab it the next time she went into the city. And then, with a sense of horror washing over her, Selina realized she knew exactly where to put all the items in the grocery bag she’d been handed to unload. So, she raced to put the asparagus in its drawer, the lightbulbs in the mudroom off to the left of the dining room, and the cinnamon in its proper place in the spice rack, before dashing off to grab the imaginary book that she had supposedly left in her room.

Selina’s heart seemed about to beat out of her chest as she looked around the room (her room?) at the drawers that had her clothes and her bathroom full of the combs and products that kept her hair manageable and the little gifts and trinkets spread over the shelves from birthdays and Christmases and apologies for running off to the stupid chalet in Switzerland. It just couldn’t do. She was a street kid, a cat, not someone who could be tied down to a room with a bed and curtains and her favorite foods and her absolute favorite people. So that night she packed everything she could into her little backpack and ran away.

Because who was she kidding? A girl like her could never have a home in a house like that.

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Bruce crashes with her for a week during the year the bridges were blown. She can’t remember why, but vaguely thinks it might have been because of her incident with the scalpel. He probably passed it off as giving Alfred space or helping make sure nothing went wrong with the root that was healing her spine, but she remembers a distinct sense that Bruce was waiting for her to collapse into a ball and die at any moment. And that feeling got really old, really fast. In a city like Gotham, especially during that year, oftentimes the safest places were rooftops, so Selina had snuck out of her room late one September evening and climbed onto the roof. She had sat there for no longer than 20 minutes when Bruce emerged from her window. The autumn night was mostly warm, but the wind would pick up every so often and send a chill through her body. He hadn’t been out on the roof for more than a minute or so before he slipped his jacket around her shoulders. The gesture caught her off-guard for a moment, but the past few months of her life had been nightmarish and every night felt so unreal that she chose to ignore the voices in her head screaming for her to move away because sharing your heart with someone means letting them choose if they protect it of if they break it and settled in beside the young man next to her.

Selina was young and still didn’t have a house, but maybe houses were overrated and the right person was all that was required to make a home.

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Bruce leaves a few months later and it feels like he’s finally revealed that this was simply a years-long con and she had fallen for it hook, line, and sinker. The manor was gone and Alfred didn’t know how to react around her and Jim was busy and Barbara had a baby and everyone seemed to think that she must know how to get ahold of Bruce because no one who really loved someone would leave without a good-bye.

But he did.

He left without a good-bye and instead let a note that spoke of home and how she would always matter to him and have a place in his soul break her heart for him. But, she told herself, it was fine. After all, Wayne Manor was blown to smithereens and you ain’t got no home if you ain’t got no house so it didn’t matter that the person who had made her feel at home had left without saying good-bye..

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The manor was rebuilt by the time Selina was 20. She and Alfred had worked hard to make it as close to the original as possible. The only purposeful difference were the carpets in the study because neither could muster the strength to buy ones identical to the carpet that Selina had nearly bled out on. She spent a grand total for four days in the new manor before running away.

Alfred may have been determined that this new house could be a home, but Selina knew it just wasn’t going to be the case.

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The first apartment she rents legally is with her paycheck from the Martha Wayne Foundation. She had successfully bid for a small position helping to plan events for the Foundation and while she suspects that the job was given to her solely because no one wanted to figure out if denying Bruce Wayne’s girlfriend a job in his mother’s charity would be what it took to bring him back from wherever he was off hiding, she didn’t push it. Regardless of the reason for her getting the job, Selina loved the work and loved the status and the apartment that she got as a result of her work. It had been maybe a year after Gotham was reunited with the mainland that Selina had realized that the only way she was going to be able to get the kind of scores and respect she so desperately craved from Gotham’s underworld was if she could make a space for herself in the city’s ruling class. After all, Barbara had been a socialite and Lee had married a Falcone and been respected by the entire GCPD. If Selina was going to get a fraction of the power either of them had had, she was going to need to insert herself into the kind of life Bruce had led. So that’s what she did.

The apartment felt like proof that she could fake her way into a richer world. Gone were the days of squats and sleeping in a different bed every night. Now her apartment was painted a deep purple and had fresh flowers at all times (cornelias because the smell still made her happier than anything else) and a closet full of dresses for galas and cocktail parties and dates with men who got more money from their trust funds in a month than she had ever touched in her life. Was it home? If you had asked Selina that, she would have scoffed at you and rolled her eyes.

After all, you can have the nicest house in the world, but if you’re faking belonging there, it will never be a home.

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The party was barely even starting when Bruce Wayne left and asked the valet to bring him his car. He’d only been back in Gotham for six months and parties felt even more tedious and ridiculous now than they had before he’d left for a decade. Besides, Selina had been there and he still wasn’t certain where they stood (if you had asked him where Batman and Catwoman stood in relation to each other he probably would have been able to give a more concrete answer, but even that was a big ‘probably’). So of course he should have been expecting her to be in the passenger seat of his car when he slid into it. And of course he should have been expecting to hear her soft voice casually whisper that she rents a place on Rose Avenue if he wanted to check it out.

She doesn’t give him a chance to decline her offer and he barely manages to mind since he couldn’t have turned her down anyway. Later, after he’s explored the apartment and they’ve explored each other and refused to even consider exploring what their relationship might be like in this new reality, he asks her if she likes her new home.

Selina scoffs in that way that he knows means he shouldn’t have bothered asking such a stupid question in the first place. “Bruce one day you’ll have to learn, just ‘cause someone has a house doesn’t mean they’ve got a home.”

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After the wedding reception, Bruce grabs his bride’s hand and walks her back to the mansion’s entrance, the one that they’ve been through more times than either could count. Selina couldn’t shake the feeling that walking through those grand front doors should feel different now that she was the Mrs. Wayne who would be working so hard to make the mansion feel like a home, but she didn’t. She had run through those doors as a tiny 13-year-old fleeing for her life. She had climbed through every window in the estate as a 15-year-old unsure of the new relationship unfolding before her. She had wept where the kitchen had once been as a 19-year-old who didn’t know if she was crying for the building that was gone or for the man who had left her to try and rebuild her life on her own. She had helped pick the carpets and wallpaper and artwork that still remained in the manor as a tentative 22-year-old. She had cursed and railed against the world in the east gardens as a 25-year-old learning that the Martha Wayne Foundation would lose 20% of its funding because Wayne Corporation felt it didn’t generate enough good press to deserve the money it had previously received. She had brainstormed with Bruce on the stairs of the foyer as they tried to figure out how to bring peace to their city after another attack from Jerimaiah Valeska as a 29-year-old trying to bond with her childhood friend again. She had snuck barefoot through the kitchen last night when she gave in and accepted she was too excited for her wedding to get any sleep. She had lived so much life in this giant manor that she had once thought could never hold love and peace and happiness in its vast rooms. And the new last name she had claimed didn’t make her any different from the teen who had pushed all the furniture out of the study to dance the the late Waynes’ records with their son. Her whole life, the religion that kept her going on the darkest days, all of it was built into this place.

Bruce insists on carrying her over the threshold because the man is still as much of a sentimentalist as he was when he was a kid who brought her a snowglobe from Switzerland. As he sets her down, he looks her in the eyes and smiles, “Welcome home, Mrs. Wayne.”

Selina, despite her efforts, can’t keep back a laugh at his endearing sincerity. “You know, Mr. Wayne, I used to say that you can’t have a home without a house, but, after thinking about it again, I think a mansion can indeed count as a house.”

“So, you’ll call this home?”

“I think that may just be something I can agree to.”

#Guys seriously #this is never going to happen again #do not hold your breath because it won't #Also I love my unofficial batcat fam for whom this was most definitely written #I still know I have a writing tag somewhere and I still know I don't have a clue what it is #batcat #Selina kyle #bruce wayne #gotham #Also there is nothing more satisfying that cross posting everything all at once

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long-bodyswap · 5 years ago

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Happy Holiday Swaps

Stu and I had been talking about a vacation for some time now. It had been a couple of years since we had gone away, and the daily grind was really taking its toll on both of us. We were both always tired, and our schedules didn't allow for too much "together" time. It was making me depressed, and him grumpy. Even our sex life suffered. We barely saw each other on most days. He would get home after I went to sleep, and I would leave for work before he got up. It seemed that neither of us were ever in the mood anyway. Our lives seemed too dull for two twenty-somethings. With his waiter job my job at the department store, we really couldn't afford to go anywhere, but we really needed to get away. After rearranging our schedules and getting friends to cover for us, we were able to get 2 weeks off at the same time. We also managed to save a little money over the past year, but it would not be enough for a fun vacation to someplace like New York or San Francisco. A one-week stay at a hotel room alone would practically cost more that what we had saved. We decided that we needed to find some cheaper plan for a vacation.

One night after Stu got off of work, we decided to just sit down and look for the affordable vacation. We bought a few local newspapers and scoured the ads in the travel section and the classifieds. Heck, maybe we can find a courier flight to London or Paris, or maybe find someone who needs to have their Winnebago driven cross-country. We went through the ads. Nothing seemed very interesting. The courier flights were affordable, but none of the services could get us two seats on the same day to anywhere we wanted to go. Just when we thought that we wouldn't find anything, Stu spotted a tiny ad in the local gay rag. It read "Happy Holiday Swaps. Cheap vacations to anywhere in the US. Stay at someone else's house, and they stay in yours! NO HOTEL COSTS! Transport very affordable. Call for appointment. Gay friendly." We were both very excited. It was the perfect answer! We can swap apartments with someone and save on the hotel costs. Why didn't we think of this before? We both looked at each other with excitement but then I noticed that his face was slowly unwinding from his smile. "Yeah, but Rick, who would want to come here? This is the most boring town in the world," he said. "There must be people wanting to come here, I mean they DID put the ad in the local paper, didn't they? And plus, there is a small but thriving gay scene here. Maybe some people just want to get away from the big city," I answered optimistically. "Let me make an appointment to go down there tomorrow after work and see how much this whole thing costs, and whether or not we can get a trade to someplace fun. With that, we went to bed. We were so excited that neither of us could sleep... it was the best sex we had had in months.The directions that the man gave over the phone seemed unnecessarily complicated. Left turn here. Right turn there. Left turn here. Another left turn there. Couldn't he just give the address? I finally ended up in a small alley in the gay part of town. It was very unfamiliar and I was glad that he gave me such detailed directions. I didn't know half of these streets existed in the small city that we lived in.The storefront was tiny and kind of run-down. It did have an old world charm about it, so I opened the door.

As I walked in, our friend Craig was excitedly hurrying out of the shop. He must have gotten a great vacation deal, since he didn't even stop to say "Hi."The man behind the desk looked up and said, "Hello! You must be Rick." He was a strangely handsome 40ish man. He had a pleasantly chipper demeanor, which was in contrast to his strong build and tattoos. His short salt and pepper hair was poorly groomed, in a way that reminded me of a mad-scientist. He had a very familiar look about him. "I'm Raymond Schenkel. I'll be your travel coordinator. You can call me Ray. So," he continues. "You want to have fabulous vacation?""Yeah, but we really don't have too much money to spend. We really want to go someplace fun." I said."Well, just fill out these forms. You said ‘we.' Are you planning to travel with your lover?" Ray asked."Yeah, his name is Stu." I replied."Oh, then you'll have to fill out a questionnaire for him as well. We have to make sure that we find the right match, you know," he said as he handed me a second set of papers. "So when do you plan to travel?" he asked."A week from tomorrow, and we'd like to stay for two weeks." I said."Hmmm. Two weeks might be hard to find. Most people only want one week at a time. Let me see what I have." He turned to his computer and started tapping away.As I was filling out the forms, I noticed that some of the questions were quite personal, like questions personal habits, personal hygiene, and social behavior. I guess all this was important if we were going to stay in someone else's house. In fact, I'd like to know myself that the people staying in our apartment would be clean."How much is this going to cost us?" I asked."We have a flat fee of $500 per person for a round trip." He replied.$500 didn't sound like such a good deal. Booking airfare ourselves online to our destination would cost less. But I guess it works out by not having to pay for a hotel room. Ray noticed my reaction at the price."Satisfaction guaranteed. If you're not happy, we will refund 100% your money. No questions asked." He said confidently.Comforted by that, I nodded and said, "OK" as I finished the forms."OK, then," he said smiling with a sense of accomplishment.

"I've found some possible trades. Let me run the questionnaires through the computer to find the best matches." He said as I handed him the forms. He scanned the pages in and let the computer compute for a couple of seconds. "It looks like I don't have any two week trades starting next week, but I have two one week trades. I won't charge you for the transportation to the second one, since I couldn't find you a two week trade. The first one is to San Francisco for a week, and then the second one is to San Antonio.""Great! That's like having two vacations for the price of one! So how does this all work? Do we have to leave you with our keys? How do we get to.." I started with excitement."They way this works is somewhat... unconventional." He inturrupted, then pausing. I knew this whole situation was too good to be true. "You have to keep an open mind." He continued. "The way it's going to work is that you will actually trade places with another couple.""I realize that." I said, slightly annoyed. "That's how we save on hotel costs.""No," he interrupted, "you literally trade places. You and Stu will be swapping bodies with a couple in San Francisco. You and Stu will be in their bodies there, and they will be in your bodies here.""This is ridiculous. How stupid do you think I am?" I said. I got up to leave this Ray quack before things got out of hand."Rick, wait. I know how this must sound. Most people react the same way." He said. He pulled out his wallet and showed me his driver's license. It read, "Robert Walters.""So what?" I sneered, "You make fake I.D.s, too. Is that supposed to make me trust you better?" And then it dawned on me.

The person standing in front of me looked Bobby Walters. He used to be the bouncer at Woody's Bar years ago. He kind of disappeared from the bar scene, saying that he found a much better gig."Bobby? Is this what you're doing these days? Running scams?" I said in disbelief."No. You see, I'm not Bobby. I'm Raymond, in Bobby's body. Your friend Bobby is working in our office in Minneapolis, in my body. The company let's the employees use the service for free among themselves. In fact, they encourage it." Ray explained.Now that I was thinking about it, it began to seem plausible. The man in front of me really didn't feel like Bobby, although he looked like Bobby. And that would explain why Craig didn't say hello. "So, the guy that was leaving as I walked in... he wasn't Craig?""That's a young fellow from the Philly, and he swapped with you friend Craig for a few days. I see that you're not quite convinced." Ray said."Well, you have to admit, this sounds really far fetched. I just need some definite proof. How do I know that you're not Bobby? How can I be sure you're just not some con artist?" I said."Well, let's see..." He thought about it for a moment. "I have a way to prove to you. I'll give you a demo. Let's go into the back," he said. I was a little skeptical, but I figured it couldn't hurt.We walked through the door at the back of the room into a much larger, clean and bright room with a lot of strange equipment.

"Sit here." He directed me to a comfortable reclining chair. It was like a dentist's chair, but with a little more gear around the head area. He put a couple of electrodes on my temples and said, "Now just stay calm. It helps if you close your eyes." He sat in a similar chair across from me and pushed a bunch of buttons at the controls. I closed my eyes and waited for something to happen.I was beginning to feel foolish now since nothing was happening. For all I know, this Bobby or Ray or whoever he is could have just bailed while my eyes were closed. I was sitting there for almost a minute now and was getting really impatient. I heard Ray get up and walk over towards my chair. I opened my eyes and said, "What kind of fool do you think I..."

Everything was blurry but was slowly coming into focus. To my complete surprise, I saw a handsome twenty something with short brown hair in front of me. I saw myself walking towards me! I looked down at my body as saw a muscular bar bouncer. "What the hell?" I said and noticed that my voice was coarse and low."Are you convinced yet?" Ray said in my voice. "Hey, Rick, you have really nice body," he continued as he was feeling his stomach and his chest. "Your guests will be very happy with the swap.""Wow! This is incredible! I'm actually in Bobby the Bouncer's body!" I got up out of the chair and immediately fell down."Whoa!" Ray said, helping me back onto the chair. "This is your first time swapping. You have to take a couple of minutes getting used to the new body. First, extend your left arm out in front of you."I did, but slowly. It felt like I was in a swimming pool or something."Now make a fist, and flex your arm," he directed.I did. I was a little shaky, like I had been drinking tons of coffee. But I finally brought my arm in. "This feels awesome." I said in wonderment."Your mind has to learn how to communicate with the new body. It only takes a coule of minutes" He explained. We did a few more exercises with the left arm, and then the right arm, and then some leg stretches. Everything was feeling more normal now and I was no longer shaky. "OK. Now slowly stand up."I got up and stretched. "Wow! This is just unbelievable!" I rubbed my chest and then looked at the tattoos on the arms. I pulled up my shirt to see a tight six-pack. Just beyond the waistline I could see my hard-on bulging under the jeans. This was so hot! I rubbed my penis and it grew even larger. I felt a little dirty, like I was doing violating Ray, or cheating on Stu or something, so I stopped. But I sure didn't want to. "I'm convinced!" I looked over at Ray to find him playing with his face in front of the mirror. I saw that he had a hard-on also, with my penis. "Does everyone who does this swap thing get so... excited?" I asked looking at his bulge."Well, most gay men do. Especially if the host body is cute." He winked at himself in the mirror. He started to rub his growing bulge and said to me, "Wow. Your body is so cute!" He undid his pants and took out his penis and started to jerk off."Hey wait a minute! What are you doing to me!" I screeched."Don't worry, Rick. I'm not doing anything to you. I'm doing it to your body, which you lent to me." He explained. "Ooh. This feels so good." He moaned. He was stroking his dick with one hand and rubbing his body with the other I watched Ray continue until he came. He shot cum all over the mirror."I had no idea how hot I looked doing that!" I said. I could feel my penis was now throbbing inside my jeans."You are allowed to freely do what you want in that body, just as the guest in your body can do what he wants." He said looking at my "excitement".I walked over to the mirror and unbuttoned my 501 jeans and pulled out an erect 8 inch penis.

Watching myself as someone else in the mirror was unlike anything I had ever experienced. I watched myself as I started to stroke my penis. Ray walk over to lend me a hand. "No, don't." I said, "It would be too weird." I explained. I rubbed my face and ran my fingers through my hair, through Bobby's hair. I looked at my arms and my large hands wrapped around my penis. This was the most erotic experience I had ever had. The more I thought about it, the harder my penis got. The harder my penis got, the faster I stroked. I looked over at the mirror at my reflection, at the image of Bobby, and shot my load on top of Ray's.We cleaned up the mess we made and swapped back. We went back out to the front room and sat down."If you are interested, we can book the trip. It will take a day to confirm with the other office, and then we'll be all set." Ray said.I eagerly handed him my credit card and said, "Let's do it!""Great!" He ran the card through the machine and punched in a bunch of numbers into the computer and printed out a stack of pages. "Here is the contract and terms of use. Please read over this, as it covers what you can and cannot do in the host body, and what you will allow your guests to do in your bodies. Sign it and bring it with you on your date of travel. Needless to say, you don't need to pack anything. If you want, we can ship some things to the San Francisco office prior to your arrival."We shook hands and I happily went home unable to contain my excitement. I couldn't wait to tell Stu about our vacation.

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ariellevalois · 5 years ago

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hi everyone ! i’m a little late to the party but you’ll find some of my wanted connections under the cut. feel free to message me if there’s anything you want or just like this post !

𝗪𝗔𝗡𝗧𝗘𝗗 𝗖𝗢𝗡𝗡𝗘𝗖𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡𝗦 :

⁠—⁠— there i was giving you a second chance but you stabbed my back while shaking my hand // you used to trust each other, confide in each other, but that was too long ago. betrayal is not easily forgiven, but still, she tried. and it was a mistake to do so in the first place. loyalty is so fragile and the crown comes with a great price you had to pay. now all that’s left is a mess she must clear and a line of trust that’s broken beyond repair.

⁠⁠—⁠— if i said i want your body would you hold it against me? // what you do behind closed doors is a secret that must never be told. whether it’s because of the political scene or a family matter, none of you wants anyone else to know about this. no strings attached, that’s what you promised each other and it’s working fine by now. you both have other priorities and plans, falling in love is for foolish people and neither of you can afford to be called like that. // TAKEN BY AARNE .

⁠—⁠— tipsy, i'm the only one that you want when you caught vibration // you don’t talk often. your ideals don’t match. but when one of you gets drunk, things take a sudden turn and you find yourselves having late-night conversation about things you should probably not tell each other. but you didn’t know who else to call and you both know that everything will go back to normal at dawn. // TAKEN BY ANNELI .

⁠—⁠— i don't trust nobody and nobody trusts me // you never liked each other, although a reason wasn’t necessarily needed. you never said it out loud, but neither of you would mind seeing each other fall to their knees. maybe things haven’t always been like this, or maybe they have, but one thing is clear: there’s no way you would ever trust each other.

⁠—⁠— this is our sanctuary, we can find shelter and peace // what an unusual pairing. that’s what people would think if they knew about you. but nobody knows. you meet up in secret and help each other with the weight that’s on your shoulders. you talk for hours and hours, without being afraid of information leaking or measuring your words.

⁠—⁠— he’s broken every human law. he breaks the law of gravity // you’re the type of person she should stay away from, but there’s something that’s pulling her in like a magnet and she finds herself in the middle of trouble everytime. she can’t hold it against you, it was her decision, but maybe such a bad influence as yourself will make a change in her life. // TAKEN BY GABRIEL .

⁠—⁠— you gotta see it to believe it, sky never looked so blue so i keep thinking back to a time under canyon moon // you met during a time when she was lost. or maybe you were lost too. the whole world was curious to find out where she was hiding and you were the only one who knew. you travelled together and built yourselves back up together. gratitude is strong enough to link two people, so the bond you have now is unbreakable.

⁠—⁠— you play stupid games, you win stupid prizes // how foolish of you to expect her to fall for your tricks. trust had never been an option, but now that she knows what your true intentions are, you’re vulnerable and you have no other choice but to try and stay on her good side. at least until you find something that’d give you the upper hand once again.

𝗪𝗔𝗡𝗧𝗘𝗗 𝗖𝗢𝗡𝗡𝗘𝗖𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡𝗦 :

⁠—⁠— when i’m with you i have amnesia, got me without a mind. my stupid brain thinks that i need you, misleads me all the time // you’re no good for each other, but neither of you wants to call it quits just yet. you both like torturing the other, playing with their feelings and denying that there could be something more in here than meets the eye. you run away, but you come back to each other everytime, because you can’t live without each other, but once you’re back at square one, bad habits kick in again.

⁠—⁠— talk fast, romance. won't last, i'm okay with that. burn, crash, romance. i'll take what I can get from you // none of you wanted more than a night of pleasure and empty promises, but it’s morning now and neither of you wants to leave. this is built to fall, you both know it but instead of throwing it away, you choose to enjoy it while it lasts.

—⁠— me and all my girls keep it lit when we come through. we can buy a table in the bar if we want to. ladies in the buildin', probably makin' more than you // a girl squad that’s envied by the whole world, that’s what you are. always on the cover of the magazines together, always present on each other’s social media. but you’re more than just a group of girls who like to have fun, you have each other’s backs because you made a promise. it’s you, until the end of the line.

—⁠— we were jet set, bonnie and clyde, until i switched to the other side. it’s no surprise i turned you in ‘cause us traitors never win // funny that you thought she would ever help somebody other than herself. it was beneficial for her to be your friend, but she took everything she could and before you realized it, she left. she told you not to trust her, but you eventually did and now you understand that everything was a game to her. she’s no longer a friend, but an enemy. // TAKEN BY MIRAY .

—⁠— this is how the world works. you gotta leave before you get left // maybe you really fell for her charms, maybe you didn’t. but you surely didn’t expect her to leave so suddenly. one moment, you had her right in your arms, you even thought you had her in the palm of your hand, but now she’s gone and you’re left wondering whether you knew anything about her at all or not.

—⁠— they say i did something bad, but why’s it feel so good? // well-behaved women seldom make history. you both find yourselves in chaos and distruction and now that you found each other, you take great pleasure in the mischief you cause together. the worst part? it feels way too right to be wrong.

—⁠— all for freedom and for pleasure, nothing ever lasts forever. everybody wants to rule the world // it’s strategic and calculated. the two of you are powerful, but together, you are unstoppable. you didn’t know who she really was when you asked for her hand in marriage, but now that you found out, you realize that maybe it hasn’t been such a bad idea. you both want to watch the world burn, so instead of fighting alone, you fight together.

⁠—⁠— i know you don't do one night stands so i'm the closest thing. now can we fuck and still be friends, though? // you didn’t expect her to be so bold. you were friends, you never looked at her in that way but now that she suggested it, you’re starting to like the thought more than you probably should. so you give it a try. now all there’s left to do is to keep being friends after you touched each other in a way friends never do.

—⁠— you made a really deep cut and baby now we got bad blood // she knew she shouldn’t have trusted you, but she did and you proved her she was right about it. your friendship is long gone and it’s all your fault, but you don’t regret it at all. after all, a connection to her was beneficial at that time but your priorities have changed. // TAKEN BY ARMANI .

—⁠— pay me all my money cause i’m sick to my soul. oh, i love control // when you met, you didn’t think there could be anyone like her. you thought it was all an act. but now that you realized who she really is, you understand that you were wrong. you want to push her away and out of your life, but you won’t because you’re scared of what she might do. instead, you’re stuck in this toxic friendship and you can’t see any way out.

—⁠— they whisper in the hallway, “ she’s a bad, bad girl ” // you think it’s time for the whole world to know who she really is and you’re not afraid to scream and shout it. you never got along but you’re starting to see her true colors and you want to make sure everybody knows it, so that nobody will ever fall for one of her tricks again. // TAKEN BY ARABELLA .

—⁠— light-pink sky, up on the roof. sun sinks down, no curfew // you like hanging out with each other and letting go of the weight you carry on your shoulders every once in while. you’re each other’s getaway and for some odd and unknown reason, you trust each other enough to confess everything that bothers you.

—⁠— sin city wasn’t made for angels like you // you’re too good for her, too kind. a strange friendship, you might call it, but you turned out to be her weakness. you’re pure, but instead of taking advantage of that, she wants to protect you from the evil that lies all around you. // TAKEN BY ZHAOHUI .

—⁠— and in the end, if i don’t make it on the list would you sneak me a wristband? give me a boost over heaven’s gate // there was a time when you two were close, but friends grow apart and people grow older. there’s no bad blood between you, but she asked you to promise her to show her the light if she ever goes on the wrong path. you didn’t think it through and accepted, you were young and you didn’t know things could get this far, but now it’s time for you to fulfill your promise and prevent her from losing herself to the dark side.

𝗪𝗔𝗡𝗧𝗘𝗗 𝗖𝗢𝗡𝗡𝗘𝗖𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡𝗦 :

⁠⁠—⁠— now that i’m sitting here, thinking it through, i’ve never been anywhere cold as you // it never occured to you that some people can act like they have no emotions at all and stand by it. you thought she was pretending, but she ended up disappointing you without a trace of remorse and there’s nobody to blame but you, because you should’ve known she was telling the truth when she said she’s heartless.

⁠—⁠— would you rescue me? would you get my back? would you take my call when i start to crack? // nobody would’ve thought you’d be the one that makes her heart beat again. she doesn’t tell you she loves you like any person would do. instead, she shows you she’s vulnerable and she asks you to save her, but just for this time, because she’s tired of saving herself.

⁠—⁠— and i swore that i would never say i miss you more everyday but some things are better left unsaid // when she left, she told you that there will never be a future for you two and she didn’t think she’d regret it, but years had passed and she is starting to feel like something is missing. by the time she realizes it’s you, it’s already too late. you love somebody else.

⁠—⁠— you want a war, you don’t know what you’re asking for // diplomacy had never been fun for you. some people just want to watch the world burn and you’re one of those people. she might be scary and intimidating, but you took it as a challenge and now there’s a war that’s about to start between you, maybe even between your countries.

⁠—⁠— the day you’ll fall in love with me i’ll break your fucking heart // you have been warned right from the start. it’s all physical, don’t get too involved because if you do, she will not hesitate before storming out of your life. you managed to stick to her words by now, but how much can you handle?

⁠—⁠— i keep digging myself down deeper, i won’t stop ‘till i get where you are // there is an unspoken loyalty between you. none of you know how you got this deep, but you’d do anything for each other without even thinking twice about it. you’re a team, you fight together until the end.

⁠—⁠— now we got problems and i don’t think we can solve them // you two never got along, but at least you were being civil with each other. however, that’s not the case anymore. ever since that day, you attack each other with each chance you have and there’s no going back now.

⁠—⁠— no cameras catch my muffled cries. i counted days, i counted miles to see you there and now the storm is coming // you refused to leave when she told you to. you knew she needed you, but she was too proud to admit it so instead of running for the hills, you stayed. and she didn’t tell you to leave again. now, when she’s at her lowest again, will you stand by her side one more time?

⁠—⁠— my team is losing, battered and bruising. i see the high fives between the bad guys // you had no connection before, but politics brought you together. you saw she was on the losing side and you thought it wasn’t fair, so you decided to lend her a helping hand. she’s wary of your intentions, but all that you want is to stop the bigger evil and if that means teaming up with her, then so be it.

⁠—⁠— maybe we could go get lost tonight. at least we’d know we gave it a try // you have been friends for what felt like forever, but one night, you decided to try and be more than that. if only for a moment. only to say that you tried. neither of you know where it’s going to lead, but you’re both willing to try.

#hshqevent022 #hshqtask004 #/ please don't feel like you have to stick to one of these #if there's anything else you'd like please let me know!#political allies are also always welcome

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faefictions · 6 years ago

Text

The Kids From Yesterday | 1

Pairing: Harrison Osterfield x Reader

Word Count: 3,770

Summary: A road trip with her friends on the way to move in with her boyfriend makes the reader realize that she might not be as in love with the person she thought she was.

A/N: Ok, so this was going to be just a one shot, but I couldn't control myself, and it got to be over 10k words before it was even half done, so here is part one of a 3 part (or not, idk how many) series!!

Being in your early twenties is a weird time. Some of your friends are still living at home with curfews, some are still slogging through college, and some are getting married and starting the rest of their lives. When you were younger, you didn’t particularly see yourself being the latter of those options, you had imagined you would wait until your late twenties to settle down. But here you were, 22, sitting across from your boyfriend of 3 years. He had just asked you to move back home with him, and you were sitting speechless. He took it as a happy shock, but if you were going to be honest, it was anything but.

None of your friends really liked your boyfriend, Adam. He wasn’t specifically terrible in any way, but he wasn’t exactly the best fit for you. He was very reserved in social settings, which wasn’t too off-putting for you, but it made it impossible to hang out with your group of friends. You had been friends with the Hollands since birth, so it was difficult to see them not get along with Adam, but you weren’t surprised.

As Adam waited for your reply, you tried to use logic instead of listening to your heart. You of course had a place to stay already, and had never lived anywhere else, but your lease with your best friend and roommate, Harry, was going to be up in a couple months and you were already talking about trying to find a new place. You hadn’t been set on it, but this seemed to be a sign that maybe it was time. And you had never lived far from your hometown, so maybe this was a new adventurous chapter for you. So you agreed. You hadn’t thought about the implications it had for the relationship, but it was too late.

When you got home that night and told Harry, he was less than happy.

“Are you shitting me? Isn’t that something you should think over?”

“Harry, come on. I’ve been dating him for years now, it’s about time we move in together anyway.”

“Yeah, in a flat across town, not in another city, hours away.”

“Harry, come on…”

“When?”

“I think he said next month? But I told him I was staying here with you until our lease is up and that I can just fly out and meet him there.”

Harry went to bed with a frown that night, but it was nothing compared to telling the rest of your friends. Harry’s twin, Sam, was the only one who tried to be at all supportive of you. Their older brother Tom was just as outraged as Harry, but the worst out of all of them was Harrison.

You had only met Harrison a few years before you started dating Adam, so your relationship was different than the ones you had with the Holland boys. To be completely honest, you had had a huge crush on him before you got with Adam, but you knew that dating a friend would cause nothing but trouble, so you gave it up and moved on.

Harrison was very protective of you, something that you loved. Even when Harry would simply tease you, Harrison would be by your side to defend you. He had been there for every single stupid fight you had with Adam, always holding you until you were stable enough to confront your boyfriend again. So when he heard the news of your leaving, his face fell, and it broke your heart.

The 4 boys left empty beer cans littering the counters of your apartment’s kitchen while they drunkenly discussed their “secret” plans to get you to stay. You had argued that it wasn’t secret if you were there to listen, but they shushed you each time. You had to draw the line when they eventually came up with a plan to kill Adam and kidnap you.

“Guys,” you laughed out to get their attention, “I’m sorry, but I have to go. As much as I would love to stay here and spend the rest of my life with you drunken idiots, I have to settle down at some point.”

A sad silence fell over the room, but Harry put a quick end to it.

“You said he was going to head out there before you, yeah?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Well, how about, we all drive you out instead of you flying to meet him? We can make it a road trip, we’ll take the weekend off and send you off with some proper memories to remember us by.”

The boys all agreed that that was the only way they were going to let you out of their grasp. It sounded like fun, and would save you money since you didn’t have to book a last minute flight, so you agreed.

A month later, Adam flew back to his hometown and began to look for an apartment for the two of you. He had a job arranged already, and you had a few interviews. You tried your best to be excited. You had been craving a change to spice up your mundane life for a while, but this just felt wrong. You loved Adam, but the second he had asked you to go, you had started to question how far that feeling extended. Moving to his home town with him was a big commitment, but you weren’t sure it was one you were wanting to make. You were sure you weren’t ready to be married to him, but the more time you had to think about it, the more you realized that you were fine with being married at this age, you just didn’t want to be married to Adam. But you were in too deep to back out, and every time Adam called you to update you on the apartment search you were reminded by the hope that he would never find something.

A week before your lease was up, your phone screen lit up, and you knew it was the call you had been dreading. He had found the perfect apartment. It was affordable and 10 minutes from a beach. It had a large kitchen and beautiful patio with a view. It was more than you could ask for, and the pictures should have made you feel better about the move, but not even a mansion could make you happy about leaving.

You of course decided to hide this feeling from your friends. If any of the 4 boys found out, they would easily talk you out of it. You just didn’t want to hurt Adam, so you decided to give it a year. If you weren’t happy, you could always move back.

Despite losing his roommate, Harry decided to renew the lease under his name, and he told you if you ever wanted to come back, your room would be open for you. He helped you pack up your things every night for a week before you had to go. It mostly consisted of him throwing things in boxes from across the room and you yelling at him for nearly breaking all of your belongings, but it didn’t make it any less special.

The night before you were set to leave, you both sat on the kitchen floor with a complete mess surrounding you. You were going through each and every belonging and sorting through what belonged to each of you. An hour into sorting, you guys broke out the alcohol, and the sorting became much slower, but the laughter that filled the apartment made it ok. There were mugs and plates scattered across the floor, random utensils and gadgets lying between them, and in the middle was the pair of you with bottles in your hands.

“Ok, but do you remember when our neighbor lit her curtains on fire? They smell spread through the entire building, and you thought it was my cooking,” Harry laughed.

“Of course I do. Do you remember when that same neighbor had that man over and we had to turn the volume on our movie up as far as it could go to drown out their moaning?”

“Burned into my skull.”

You both continued to reminisce as a knock came at the door. You chose to ignore it at first, you wanted to enjoy the last moments you had with Harry as your roommate, the person you wished you could remain living with. But the knock came again, so you got up, realizing suddenly that you had had more to drink than you originally thought.

You stumbled over to the door and opened it to reveal Harrison on the other side. The frown you had from being dragged away from Harry was quickly replaced with a beaming smile when you realized who it was.

“Haz,” you exclaimed, throwing your arms around his neck, “What are you doing here?”

“Have you been drinking?” he chuckled, hands going to your waist.

“I am an adult and it is 10 pm, you have no room to judge, buddy.”

He smiled at you and took a few steps past so he could close the front door for you. “Is Harry around?”

“In here,” Harry called from the kitchen floor.

When Harrison saw the mess surrounding Harry, his face fell to confusion. “Are you guys just trashing the place now?”

“We were sorting through our things, don’t want y/n missing anything when she leaves. What are you doing here?” Harry asked as he stood up to join you.

“I just wanted to see y/n one last time before we left. The apartments not going to be the same without you.”

You tried to hide your blush as you went to offer Harrison a beer from your nearly emptied fridge. He happily took the drink and joined both of you on the kitchen floor. He sat quietly as you and Harry continued to reminisce, a smile appearing on his face with each story. You had noticed that he was quieter than usual, but you were too caught up in the conversation to ask him if he was alright.

After a few hours of drinking on the kitchen floor, the three of you had finally sorted through everything in the kitchen and cleaned up the mess. It was nearing midnight, and as much as you wanted to soak up every last second in the place you had spent the happiest moments of your life, you knew that you had to get some rest for the trip.

“Do you want to stay over tonight, Harrison?”

“Yeah, if that’s fine with you guys.”

“Can we have a sleepover in the living room?” you excitedly asked both of them. There was no way they could say no to your excitement. Within minutes, the couches were covered in blankets and pillows and you were searching for a movie to fall asleep to. You settled on an old action movie that you had seen multiple times with Harry. By the time you had settled into your corner of the couch, Harry was already asleep. You were laying with your head on the arm rest, feet curled up near your chest to leave room for Harrison on the other end of the couch.

“Are you excited to leave tomorrow?” you heard Harrison quietly ask over the movie.

You sat up a little so you could see him clearly. He looked over at you, patiently waiting for a response. You considering telling him about the internal dread you held on the subject, but you had hid it to prevent any of the boys from talking you out of it. Since you were still able to be coerced to stay, you decided against it, but hated lying to him.

You settled on replying with, “I’m a bit nervous.”

“Why would you be nervous?”

Of course it was because you didn’t want to be with Adam, but that was more information you couldn’t divulge.

“It’s just further than I’ve ever been from home, you know? But I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

Harrison could tell you were hiding something, but he knew that you were holding back for a reason, so he pretended to believe you.

Nothing else was said as both of your eyes reluctantly turned back to the television, slowly coaxing you both to sleep.

The next morning, you woke up to your alarm going off. The slight headache from the alcohol you had consumed the night before was the last thing on your mind. You tried not to tear up as you woke up the 2 boys. You were feeling a depressing amount of nostalgia, and it was getting hard to hide. But you powered through, and once the boys were awake, all attention was off of you as they began to take your things out to the car. Sam and Tom showed up within an hour after you had woken up, and shortly after, everyone was packed into the car along with the bags and boxes. Luckily you hadn’t needed to bring much. All of your furniture was going to be picked up by your parents to be brought back to your childhood bedroom, and Adam had the furnishings of your new apartment arranged.

The five of you had arranged to share a large hotel room so you could split the drive over 2 days. You could have easily made it in one, but they refused to let you go so soon. They had also planned a few surprise stops along the way.

You spent the first leg of the drive trying to force yourself to live in the moment. Your brain was torn between wanting to soak in every last second with your friends and dreading the destination of your trip. While you knew you would see them again, you weren’t used to not seeing at least one of the boys everyday, so you did your best to focus on them, but the dread was built up so high in the back of your mind that it became impossible to ignore anymore.

After a couple hours of driving, you made it to the first planned stop. It was a large restaurant in the middle of a town you hadn’t heard of. You had no idea why the boys were all so excited to take you there, but it was obvious once you saw the interior. There were deep red tablecloths covering each small table, fancy dishes professionally set atop each one. There was a large, beautiful chandelier in the middle of the large room. The boys all watched your face light up when you saw the inside, and their smiles matched yours when they saw your excitement.

“How did you guys find this place?”

“It was Harrison’s idea,” Tom smiled.

“I saw a picture of it on Instagram, thought you might like it.”

You were surprised that the hostess led your group to a table with how you all were dressed. None of you were wearing anything fancier than jeans, and this restaurant didn’t seem like the kind of place to allow anything less than black tie apparel.

The food you received was amazing, and the company was of equal quality. The meal could have lasted 15 minutes, but you remained seated for over an hour, laughter filling the quiet room. For being so fancy, the place was surprisingly empty.

When you got back on the road, you sat in the backseat between Harry and Sam. Music was blasting through the stereo speakers and the windows were all down, allowing the breeze to blow everyones hair into their faces. You were finally able to push the thoughts to the back of your head and enjoy the car ride, listening to the boys sing along to every song. The drive passed by quicker than you hoped, and you were at the hotel before sundown.

The room the boys had rented had two beds and a pullout couch. The twins called one of the beds, and Tom suggested you share the other with Harrison and he could take the pullout.

You brought your small bag into the room and set it next to the bed designated as yours. The white sheets made it look incredibly inviting, and you were almost tempted to crawl underneath them and take a nap, but it was only late afternoon and if you slept at that point, you were going to be up way too early the next morning.

You weren’t sure who had suggested it first, but everyone had agreed that you all needed to find somewhere to get drunk together. You put your shoes on as the others rushed in and out of the bathroom to get ready.

Within the hour, you left the hotel room and found yourself at a loud local bar. The music blasted through the speakers, and you smiled endlessly as you downed shot after shot of whatever drink was cheapest. You planned on getting the most out of your money for the night. You tried to drag Harry out to the dance floor that had a small crowd of people who were just as terrible as you, but he refused to be seen dancing in public.

“I don’t care how much I have in me, I won’t be caught dead out there tonight, y/n.”

As Harry walked to the booth where his twin was sitting, Harrison took your hand and laughed at your angry, scrunched up face. He led you to where you were trying to take Harry, and you stuck your tongue out over your shoulder to Harry from across the room. He smiled and did the same to you.

The three Holland boys watched as you drunkenly danced with Harrison. You were a few shots ahead of all of them, and it was no secret that you didn’t hold your liquor as well either. You bought a few more shots, but Harrison cut you off eventually, trying to get you to go sit down at the booth with the rest of your friends.

“Its either dancing or more alcohol for me, pick your poison, Haz.”

“Actually, it’s your poison. Dancing it is.”

Your dancing was more of a series of jumping and singing along loudly as you flailed yours and Harrison’s arms. To anyone else, it may have looked ridiculous, but to your friends, it was just you having a good time, something they had missed seeing. It was rare to get a night out like this with you. Adam had really put a damper on your adventures with these boys, and eventually he had put an end to them.

You told Harrison you were going to the bathroom a few minutes after you had been “cut-off”, but you just used it as an excuse to order a few more shots while his back was turned. You had one down when Harrison reached you, wrapped his arms around your waist and tried to carry you away from the counter. You were laughing too hard and flailing around too much for him to get very far. He set you down on the dance floor, a few feet away from where he had grabbed you.

“I said no more,” he lectured, but he couldn’t help the smile creeping up on his face. You were pretending to have no idea what he was talking about, and he found it adorable.

“I just wanted one more. I’m having a good time, Haz,” you finally admitted.

“And you’re one shot away from a bad time.”

You scrunched your nose at him, just like you had done when Harry refused to dance with you. You both knew he was right, so you didn’t fight him on it.

You two walked back to the table and spent some quality time with the rest of the group. They mostly just made fun of your dancing, but you just claimed they were all too chicken to have any real fun by making fools of themselves. You did sneak off one more time to get the last shot you had already paid for, but no one caught you that time.

You were almost asleep on Harry’s shoulder when the boys decided it was time to go back to the hotel. They each offered to carry you, but you insisted that you were completely capable of making it back.

As you walked back to the hotel, you did stumble a little, so Harrison slowed down to your pace, keeping an arm tight around your shoulder as you both trailed behind the others.

“Thanks for dancing with me tonight,” you beamed up at him.

“Of course, I was just glad to see you having a good time.”

“It’s been a while.”

“Well you’ve been living your life, we understand.”

“No, I mean it’s been a while since I’ve had a good time.”

Harrison furrowed his brow at the change in your tone. He wanted to ask what you meant, but felt that he shouldn’t push it when you were this intoxicated.

“Can you keep a secret?” You asked, a little slurred.

“Of course, but…”

“I don’t think I love Adam. I’m kind of afraid I’m making a huge mistake.”

“Y/n…”

“I really should have dumped him when he asked me to move in with him instead of saying yes, but I was dumb. And I’ve been thinking about it, I think I’d rather marry a…a sea urchin.”

He laughed at how you spat the words “sea urchin”, but his laughter quickly subsided as he sadly glanced down at you. Your eyes were set in front of you, and he had never seen them look so dead.

“I wish I could go back in time and say no,” you whispered after a few beats, and he caught a glimpse of a tear roll down your cheek.

He finally paused on the sidewalk and pulled you into his arms, hugging you tightly as a quiet sob came out. His hand held your head against his chest. There was so much he wanted to say in that moment, but he knew he couldn’t. He wasn’t even sure you would remember this moment in the morning. So he just held you in his arms on the sidewalk for a little longer.

Harrison gave you a piggyback for the rest of the way. The moment your head hit the pillow, you were out for the night. Harrison, on the other hand, took your shoes off for you and laid them by the bed. Everyone in the room was snoring as he sat awake with your words running through his head.

Let me know if you would like to be tagged in the other parts of this series! (or if you would like to be added to my permanent taglist!)

taglist: @smilexcaptainx @artsycth @rose-marys-love @chonisberonica @5sos-wdw @chloe-geoghegan1 @spiderlingsweb @embrace-themagic

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mst3kproject · 6 years ago

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1105: The Beast of Hollow Mountain

I have a personal fucking grudge against this movie. When I was… I dunno, maybe six or seven, I went to an event at the city zoo that featured a talk by paleontologist Robert Bakker (I still have the Ornithomimus he drew for me) and a screening of an absolutely, non-ironically fantastic movie about cowboys and dinosaurs in Mexico. Since I was a child, I never bothered to remember the title of this film and so years later when I fondly remembered it, of course I couldn’t find it to watch it again. Until one day, flipping through banged-up VHS tapes at a flea market I happened across The Beast of Hollow Mountain… cowboys and dinosaurs in Mexico? This had to be it!

I was wrong. I was so, so wrong. This movie has been on my Episodes that Never Were radar since the inception of this blog, and I was delighted that Season Eleven actually used it at the same time as being slightly annoyed that they used it first. No matter. It richly deserves everything Jonah and the bots threw at it.

There are these two guys, Jimmy and Felipe, who own a ranch. Jimmy keeps flirting with a woman named Sarita. She’s supposed to be marrying this other guy called Enrique, who doesn’t like Jimmy and tries to undermine his ranching business so he’ll be forced to return to Texas, but of course Sarita secretly likes the smiling white guy better than the grumpy Latino. There’s also a comic relief drunk, Pancho, who might be funny if it weren’t for the fact that he’s a grieving widower raising a very young child, which kind of undercuts the joke. We watch these people go about their lives for at least seventeen hours in which nothing much happens, and then suddenly holy shit motherfucking dinosaur out of nowhere.

The weird masked people in that one scene are chinelos dancers, which is interesting in that it gives us an exact location for this story: the little Mexican state of Morelos. This area is rather far south of the US-Mexico border and known more for its sugar cane than its cattle ranching, but it does appear to have mountains, so we’re on firmer geographical ground here than in Beginning of the End. The masks and robes the dancers wear were originally designed to make fun of Europeans, so it’s kind of fitting that the whole display reduces Jonah, Kinga, and Max to terrified weeping.

If you only look at the first three quarters of the movie, The Beast of Hollow Mountain is an unremarkable, laid-back little western about an upstart rancher competing with the local cattle baron in both economics and love. There are probably a lot of movies that have this as their only plot, and they do just fine for people who like westerns, I guess. In this particular movie, however, it’s all just killing time. When I reviewed Avalanche a few weeks back I complained that all the effort getting us to invest in the characters is ultimately pointless because none of those stories will be resolved. Beast of Hollow Mountain is slightly better, in that it does resolve the problems it has set up for the characters, but it does so via tyrannosaurus [r]ex machina.

The movie does make some attempt to hint at the existence of the dinosaur, but it’s pathetically ineffective. There are superstitions that the mountain is haunted, and cattle are disappearing – but we see that Enrique is encouraging the rumors and possibly stealing the cows as he tries to force Jimmy to leave town. Occam’s razor tells us that a jealous rival is a much more likely explanation than a dinosaur. Actual evidence of the monster, such as footprints, cow bones in places cows could not possibly go, or never-believed eyewitness accounts from the local drunks, is completely lacking.

It’s pretty obvious that the reason the dinosaur never appears until the last few minutes of the film is because animation is expensive and that’s all they could afford. That’s fine, but a lack of budget shouldn’t have gotten in the way of the foreshadowing! You can make a respectable dinosaur footprint with a shovel and an eye for artistic detail. Have a couple of prop guys drape a fake cow skeleton over a tree branch, and presto, instant mystery! And if you need unlikely eyewitness accounts, you’ve already got a town drunk who could be laughed at for it, in the form of Pancho! You could even do that stupid joke, as seen in god only knows how many other movies, where seeing the dinosaur makes him throw a bottle away and swear to never touch another drop!

It seems so obvious that a movie called The Beast of Hollow Mountain would want to include some clues to the nature of the titular beast before we actually see it, I can’t imagine why they didn’t. Maybe they figured they were building suspense? If so, all they actually accomplish is, as Jonah and the bots repeatedly note, making us doubt that there will be any beast in this movie at all. By the time we get to its appearance, it seems completely wrong that there would suddenly be a dinosaur in what has so far been a story with no fantastical elements.

The other problem with only pulling the dinosaur out at the end of the movie is that, as I mentioned above, it’s a deus ex machina, an easy solution to the characters’ problems that doesn’t feel like part of the same world. After we’ve watched the rivalry between Jimmy and Enrique for an hour, the satisfying way to end this story would be to have them resolve their differences, perhaps out of mutual love of Sarita and a desire to make her happy. You could even include the dinosaur in this, by having Enrique forgive Jimmy out of gratitude for saving his life. Instead, the dinosaur kills Enrique, leaving Jimmy free to do whatever he likes without having to address his own problems! It’s as lazy as having him wake up at the end and discover that Enrique was only a bad dream.

When you refuse to foreshadow, you also leave the audience wondering why there is apparently one dinosaur wandering around in Mexico somewhere. You can’t just pull one dinosaur out of the movie’s ass and not have some kind of explanation! Eegah! had one caveman in the deserts outside Palm Springs but offered the backstory that he was the last of a clan whose lives had been greatly lengthened by the sulfur springs. Other movies give us dinosaurs that come out of lost valleys or the centre of the earth or something. Is that what ‘Hollow Mountain’ is supposed to be? A portal to a lost land? If so, I think that deserved at least a few seconds of screen time!

Outside of its lazy storytelling, I guess The Beast of Hollow Mountain really isn’t badly-made. The costumes, including those on the extras, are gorgeous, and between those and the chinelos dancers I suspect the film-makers just went to a town in Morelos and said, “who wants to be in a movie?” The characters are all pretty one-note but the actors do their best. Mario Navarro as Panchito isn’t nearly as annoying as he was in The Black Scorpion, and Patricia Medina as Sarita does manage to seem like she’s struggling between her commitment to Enrique and her crush on Jimmy. The worst performance in the movie is probably given by Jimmy himself, played by Guy Madison. He does ‘smiling mellow cowpoke’ in every single scene, including those that really would have benefitted from some gravitas.

The dinosaur itself is… eh, it’s not that bad. I feel like I’ve probably waited longer for worse dinosaurs (Lost Continent comes to mind). I do like stop motion in general and I respect the effort that goes into creating it. The problem in The Beast of Hollow Mountain isn’t so much the animation itself as what they chose to animate – why the emphasis on the dinosaur’s flailing tongue? They also failed entirely to make it look as if the dinosaur is occupying the same space as the humans. Either the puppet or the actors is always horribly out of focus, which might be an attempt to suggest depth. If so, it doesn’t work.

Then for the closeups, they have dinosaur puppet arms and feet. These are simply terrible. They don’t match the stop-motion creature in anatomy, movement, or implied size.

It’s pretty obvious what went wrong with this movie. Somebody came up with a really cool idea for a popcorn flick – cowboys and dinosaurs, you guys! Everybody else loved it, but as they tried to bring it to fruition, they realized it was also a really expensive idea, and tried to lower the cost by increasing the cowboy-to-dinosaur ratio. By the time they got to something they could afford, there were only five minutes of dinosaur left. As I observed in my review of Future War, sometimes movie-makers really need to just step back and say, “no, guys, this is just not gonna work.”

In this case, the ‘somebody’ with the great idea was stop motion pioneer Willis O’Brien, who wrote a script he called The Valley of Mists. I’ve never read it but I know for a fact that The Beast of Hollow Mountain didn’t come anywhere near doing it justice – because thirteen years later, O’Brien’s protégé Ray Harryhausen did the animation for the remake, The Valley of Gwangi. You guessed it, that's the fucking awesome cowboys-and-dinosaurs movie I remembered from my youth! If you were disappointed by The Beast of Hollow Mountain, I highly recommend giving The Valley of Gwangi a look. It’s got action, adventure, romance, special effects so groundbreaking that the Jurassic Park franchise has actually paid homage to them more than once, and is the guaranteed cure for all your Beast-of-Hollow-Mountain-related blues!

#mst3k #reviews #the beast of hollow mountain #50s #dinosaurs make everything better #allow me to recommend a better movie #cryptid cinema

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vagrantblvrd · 7 years ago

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Waiting for the Sky to Fall (1/1)

Summary: Finding someone who will patch you up when you run into a bullet or two, or someone gets lucky with a knife is easy enough in Los Santos. Finding someone who'll do that and not ask where you came by those kinds of injuries is a little harder. Finding someone who will do both and not call the cops on you the first chance they get is a damn miracle.

Notes: Ryan's POV to the events in Day by Day.

AO3

Finding someone who will patch you up when you run into a bullet or two, or someone gets lucky with a knife is easy enough in Los Santos. Finding someone who'll do that and not ask where you came by those kinds of injuries is a little harder. Finding someone who will do both and not call the cops on you the first chance they get is a damn miracle.

“Alfredo, I could use a little help,” Ryan says, staring down at his leg. Bleeding through the shirt he found in the backseat of Gavin's dumb little Blista and honestly a bit worrying. “I'm kind of fucked here.”

Shot and bleeding and sitting in Gavin's stupid car instead of his Zentorno, which. Yes, part of the plan that had allowed the others to get away safely but he just really, really hates this car. Small and stupid and slow.

And maybe, maybe, there's a bit of worry sneaking in there too, making him a little cranky, which. Won't exactly win him points with Alfredo or Geoff if he hears about this

There's silence on the other end of the line. Alfredo giving him the cold shoulder treatment for having the gall to go and his his stupid self shot up, like there was any other choice in the matter. Too many cops and bad odds and Alfredo knows that as well as he does.

“'Fredo, buddy.”

”Fine, all right,” Alfredo says after a moment, and gives Ryan an address that he copies down on the back of a fast food receipt because Gavin is an animal and this poor car.

“Trustworthy?” Ryan asks, squinting at his handwriting, ink smeared with blood and that's probably going to cause problems, isn't it.

”My guy says he is.”

There's a shrug in Alfredo's voice that says the odds are fifty-fifty on that one. No way to know until the cops come to cart Ryan away if it's a bad gamble, but hey. Not like Ryan can afford to be choosy at the rate he's losing blood, right?

Ryan rolls his eyes because that's the trouble with Alfredo sometimes. Independent guy in a city like this who claims he has no interest in joining a crew. Someone like him who has info on everyone in the city and the kind of smarts to leverage that to his benefit.

Cocky bastard, sassy as hell and entirely too amused at the way Geoff's so damn insistent on winning him over to their side.

”Kid's new to Los Santos and doesn't have ties to anyone who'd be interested in bagging a Fake.”

That's good to know. Means whoever this guy is, no one's going to mind if something happens to him if it turns out he's not smart enough to keep his mouth shut. No need to worry about stirring up trouble for the others with this if Alfredo's guy is wrong, and that's real nice to know ahead of time. Frees Ryan up to do whatever he needs to if things go south on him. (Well, further south.)

========

The address Alfredo gave him brings Ryan to an apartment building in a decent-ish part of the city. Quiet area just off a major street and a little mom and pop grocery store around the corner.

No one takes notice when Ryan pulls into the parking lot. No one sees when he makes his way into the apartment building's main entrance and calls the elevator down, or when he gets off on the third floor. He's pretty sure no one's around to see the guy in the skull mask limp down the hallway to the apartment at the end of the hall. Brass number plate on the door that matches the address Alfredo gave him and a sad little lock that breaks his heart a little, it's so easy to pick.

Someone's slipped a magazine under the guy's door with a little sticker on it telling whoever's reading it to enroll for a subscription not or they'll miss out on life-changing articles and recipes. Ryan rolls it up and tucks it away in a back pocket for the moment, never know how long this will take and it might make for an entertaining, only -

“Shit,” Ryan says, because this guy isn't home.

Hopefully, otherwise he doesn't give the poor bastard good odds of making it far in Los Santos if he sleeps through someone breaking into his home.

Then again -

Ryan groans, that bit of paranoia that's kept him alive this long pushing him into doing a quick sweep of the apartment.

Notices that the guy hasn't invested anything past the basics when it comes to furnishing the apartment or decorating it. None of the little things people pick up along the way to clutter their lives up, knickknacks or bits and bobs, not even framed photographs.

And maybe it has something to do with him being new in town, no time to settle in and accumulate the way most people do.

“Well this is great,” Ryan says, leg killing him and hey, might as well take a moment to rest before before he calls Alfredo up to ask if he knows someone else who could fix him up that's actually there to do it.

Ryan's leg is taking every opportunity to remind him he went and got shot earlier, but he still manages to get reasonably comfortable on the couch. Doesn't really see the point to the mask that moment, so he takes it off and drops it on the couch cushion beside him. Remembers that magazine that's digging into his back and decides to see if there's anything interesting in it while he's taking a moment to rest.

Which, naturally, is when the guy Alfredo sent him to shows up.

Confused muttering just outside the door that Ryan didn't quite close all the way – he'll blame the bloodloss and pain and exhaustion for that bit of sloppiness -

And then Ryan's staring at a guy – young, startled at finding someone in his apartment unexpectedly and wearing an EMT uniform.

Promising, really, because Ryan was starting to think he'd gotten the address wrong.

“Gunshot wound,” Ryan says, when the guy just keeps staring at him. “Don't think it's still in there.”

The guy stares at him, eyes dropping to Ryan's leg propped up on his coffee table to drift towards the Vagabond's mask beside him and then back to Ryan.

He doesn't really give much away with the set of his face, no, it's more in the eyes as he straightens out of that little slouch he'd fallen into. Long day maybe - there's something exhausted about it – and scowls at Ryan.

“Yeah?” he says. “Good for you, buddy.”

Ryan was honestly not expecting that. Has maybe, possibly, gotten used to people knowing who he is, who he works for, so it's actually a little bit insulting that this guy doesn't know who he is -

Oh, God, that's.

Christ.

Ryan might as well just ask this guy if he has any idea who Ryan is before asking to speak with his manager with that little line of thought.

But.

“Hey,” Ryan says, still reeling from realization he's coming dangerously close to turning into the criminal world's equivalent of the self-important soccer mom. “What about the Hippocratic Oath?”

You'd think that applies here, right? Do no harm and however else it goes?

But this guy, average height and build and this Jersey accent snorts. Cocks his head as he looks Ryan over.

“I'm not a doctor, you fuck,” he snaps. “So, no.”

There's a stubborn set to his jaw, mulish, and Ryan knows he's not going to get anywhere with him using threats. Might have been able to talk him into lending Ryan a hand if he'd tried using his manners first, but honestly. Ryan's tired and in pain and not at his best.

“Well, shit,” he mutters, and starts to heave himself up to his feet, but -

He catches movement out of the corner of his eye, looks up in time to see the guy's eyes go wide, stepping forward too fast as his hands come down on Ryan's shoulders and Ryan tenses. Brain not quite up to speed with what his eyes are telling it -

And then what the guy's saying registers, kicks his brain down from fight or flight to some lower level of alertness.

Ryan snorts when he sees that the guy realizes he just did something real stupid, but isn't backing down. Is muttering to himself as he scoops up the it he dropped and eyes Ryan's leg.

And Ryan, all right. He makes terrible decisions all the time. Gives in to random impulses and listens to Gavin and Jeremy far too often for his well-being.

Watches this guy with his gentle, careful touches at odds with the cranky expression on his face and angry muttering as he examines the gunshot wound. Just can't seem to resist the urge to give him shit even though Ryan knows better.

“I thought you didn't take the Hippocratic Oath?” he asks, an little bit of amusement at the way the guy glares up at him.

“You want to hobble on out of here and let that thing get infected, be my guest,” the guy says with a mean little smile. “Otherwise shut up and let me take care of it.”

Ryan laughs, and lets him work in peace.

========

Ryan isn't sure what drives him to keep going back to the guy when shit goes wrong and he ends up bleeding from something a band-aide or two won't fix.

Could be his amazing bedside manner, could be the sweet nothings he snarls at Ryan when he sees him on the other side of the door doing his best to keep from bleeding out where he stands.

Could be Ryan's some kind of masochist to keep going back time after time to get bitched at for being an idiot who doesn't know how to duck. Who can't fucking stay out of trouble, which given what he does for a living is funny as all hell, but the sentiment is sweet.

Still, Michael's always careful as he stitches Ryan's broken skin together. Always gentle as he digs shrapnel out of Ryan's back or pops his shoulder back in place. Does his best to keep from causing unnecessary pain even as he bitches.

And Ryan, well.

He worries, a little, about this grumpy little EMT who snaps and snarls and still patches Ryan up with no questions asked time after time after time. Remembers how easy it was to break into his apartment the first time, the second, and so on, and takes it upon himself to improve Michael's security as best as he can. (Remembers how it goes when you mix civilians like Michael and people like Ryan and the trouble always nipping at his heels.)

Gets a new lock put on the door and Michael calling him in a fury because he was locked out and the landlord lost the new key. Started hiding knives and other assorted weapons in strategic spots around the Michael's apartment and forgot that maybe that's not a thing normal people did.

(It's fine, though, Michael helpfully reminds him by ranting for at least a good five minutes on the subject. And then yells some more because he doesn't feel he's truly getting his point across to Ryan.)

It seems whatever Ryan tries to do to keep Michael safe in a city like Los Santos isn't really working the way he expects. He keeps trying, though, because it's the least he can do for the person who pieces him back together when things don't go quite to plan on a job or heist or someone from Ryan's past comes calling.

“Fucking Christ, again?”

Ryan shrugs because he doesn't really know how to explain it to Michael other than sometimes shit goes wrong. Things happen, and better that people like him get hurt than Gavin or Jeremy or any of the others.

Michael sighs like he can't be bothered to muster the energy to yell at Ryan right now and honestly, that's fair. It's closing in on three in the morning and Ryan knows he has work in the morning.

“The explosives went off early,” he says, because Michael deserves that much of an explanation for his trouble.

And Michael, because he's Michael, snorts in annoyance and something else Ryan can't quite place.

“You don't say.”

Ryan shoots him a look over his shoulder, sees the irritated look on his face and fights back a smile.

Sighs, because he enjoys the way it makes Michael scowl at him a little too much.

========

Geoff leaves the planning for a heist to Gavin – because clearly Geoff doesn't remember what happened the last time he did that.

The thing isn't that Gavin's not smart or clever enough to come up with a brilliant heist, no. The problem is that he can't stop himself from coming up with crazy schemes and Jeremy, the little shit is no help there.

Grins and laughs and suggests things like the tiny, evil little goblin he is. Gavin's eyes will light up the way they do when he's hit with an ingenious idea or sees something he wants more than anything and will do whatever it takes to make it happen and Ryan -

“Where the hell are we even going to get an ambulance?” Ryan asks, studying the whiteboard and the broad strokes of the heist Gavin's scribbled on it.

Doesn't realize the room's gone quiet until he looks back at Gavin and sees the little shit smirking at him, knowing look in his eye and Ryan's stomach sinks.

Gavin knows about Michael, doesn't he. Likes to “keep his hand in” when it comes to pickpocketing and practices on Ryan from time to time.

Went and lifted Ryan's phone off him one afternoon and ruined it all by going up to Ryan as he snooped through his phone, asked who “Crinkle Dot” was and why Ryan calls him so much and Ryan had come the closest to killing him in a long, long time.

“Gavin - “

“There's a lovely little spot right here,” he says, and points to a section of the map of Los Santos pinned to the wall, “that we could use to stage a little scene.”

Of course there is.

“It should be a two man job, which means I'll need a volunteer,” Gavin says, tapping a finger against his chin thoughtfully as he lets his eyes wander around the room as though Ryan would let anyone else handle things with Gavin running the show.

========

If looks could kill, Ryan would be a dead man a hundred times over at the very least.

“I fucking hate you,” Michael says, movements sharp, jerky, as he climbs out of the ambulance and slams the door. “So fucking much.”

Ryan winces, and hopes like hell they return the ambulance in pristine condition.

========

“Oh, dear,” Gavin says, sneaking a glance at Ryan as the ambulance burns merrily away before them.

“Yeah,” Ryan says, wondering if it would be taking things too far to fake his death and have Gavin create a new identity for him to start a new life far, far away from Los Santos and angry EMTs. “That's. I don't think that's going to buff out.”

========

A bonus to wearing a mask is that no one knows what the Vagabond looks like. Have no clue that the poor shaken man who was used as a hostage in a botched bank robbery clutching the blanket the kindly EMT wrapped around him is one of the people they've scouring the city for.

Michael, though.

Smart guy.

Puts two and two together real quick when Ryan thanks him for the blanket. The quiet concern in his eyes morphs into the irritation and something else Ryan can never put a name to he's more familiar with seeing there.

“You son of a bitch,” Michael hisses, eyes cutting towards the police officers milling around for a moment.

Ryan's all too aware of the photographers snapping pictures beyond the police tape. Vultures looking to use the story of the brave soul thrust into a traumatic situation to draw in readers, viewers, boost their ratings. Something cold in his chest because he knows he won't be able to pull this trick again when his face is going to be all over the news by tonight.

Still.

Worth it, if it got the others out.

Michael's not quite glaring at him because he knows it would draw the wrong kind of attention and if it's one thing he's proven over and over again, it's that he's trustworthy. No matter how angry or irritated he gets at Ryan or the others, he hasn't gone to the cops, hasn't turned on them.

So.

Ryan smiles up Michael, and bites the inside of his cheek to keep from breaking cover while Michael mutters under his breath.

========

Ryan meant to be in and out before Michael noticed, really.

Drop off the soup and make sure he had everything he needed and give him the pace and quiet he needed to get better, but -

“If you're bleeding somewhere, you might want to see an actual doctor,” Michael says, somehow having managed to sneak up on Ryan even though he looks like death warmed over. “I don't think getting puke in whatever injury you have at the moment would be good for it.”

He's not wrong about that part, but thankfully Ryan isn't bleeding at the moment.

Probably, anyway. It's been an uneventful week without anything in the works for the crew.

“...I'm not?” Ryan says, doing a quick mental check to make sure just in case since Michael sounds so convinced he is bleeding. “I don't think I am, anyway.”

Michael sighs, but somewhere along the way it gets caught up, Has him hunching over from the force of the coughing fit that hits him, and Ryan's reaching out before he knows it. Hands on Michael's shoulder, his hand and leading him to the couch. Presses the pal of his hand against Michael's forehead and breathes a little easier. Michael's running a fever, yes, but nothing alarming to it just yet.

“The fuck are you doing?” Michael asks, slight wheeze to it as he shakes off Ryan's hand.

And Ryan -

He doesn't know, actually.

Shouldn't be here, hovering over Michael. This civilian who by all rights shouldn't be as involved in his – their – world as he is. Shouldn't be this at ease with having the goddamned Vagabond standing over him like an idiot, annoyed scowl on his face the longer Ryan takes to offer up an answer.

Because Ryan knows what happens when you bring people like him into things. Knows what a bad idea it is, how easy it is for their enemies to look at him and see nothing but leverage, an advantage. Knows how fast it can all go wrong, and if he were a better person he'd have stopped coming here a long time ago. (He's not, though, is he. Always so goddamned selfish, ruins things, people, no matter how what he does.)

“You're sick,” Ryan says, all the words he should say caught in his throat.

“Thanks for being a judgmental asshole,” Michael says. “Also, fuck you.”

“Okay, that's. Not what I mean, but okay,” Ryan says, because that's so Michael it hurts, and Ryan ends up staring at him because what was he expecting, really?

Michael rolls his eyes and glances towards the kitchen.

“Think you can grab that Gatorade out of the fridge for me?”

There's something to it as though he honestly doubts Ryan is capable of such a complicated task, that kicks Ryan into motion. Has him making a bit of a detour for the soup he brought.

“Again,” Michael says, squinting up at him. “The fuck are you doing?”

And, look.

Ryan's not exactly a gourmet chef, all right, but chicken noodle soup is nice and simple. Even he can manage it, although you wouldn't think it from the ribbing the others had given him. (The way Michael's looking at him right now.)

“You're sick,” Ryan says again, and places the bowl of soup and bottle of Gatorade down on Michael's coffee table and takes a step back because Michael's a stubborn bastard.

Touchy over the oddest things sometimes, and this could be one of them, so. Space, Ryan's giving him some.

And then -

“Is it poisoned?” Michael asks, prodding the bowl with a finger, eyebrow raised as he looks up at Ryan. “Dare I hope it will grant me the sweet, blessed release of death?”

That.

Maybe Ryan misjudged earlier and Michael's fever is worse than he thought?

“Not this time, but I've got some stuff back home that might do the trick if you'd like,” Ryan offers, although really. It's been a long time since he's used the stuff. Probably a good idea to check on them when he gets back to the penthouse.

Michael snorts, corners of his mouth pulling up into a faint smile.

“Save that plan for later,” he says, and tries the soup like he actually does think it's poisoned, tiny little taste.

And fine, Ryan will humor Michael, act like he's actually taking poising Michael into consideration because why not, really?

“Thanks, asshole,” Michael grumbles, color rising in his cheeks that aren't due to the miserable cold he's suffering from and that -

Ryan laughs, can't not at the look on Michael's face.

And then Michael's just looking at Ryan, and Ryan looks right back because what else is there for him to do?

“You sure you're not bleeding somewhere?”

Suspicious, like he think Ryan's buttering him up so he'll be more amenable to stitching up sound injury Ryan's hiding later. Like he thinks Ryan's that injury prone.

“What? No,” Ryan says, indignant because no, and maybe Michael could stop looking so damned amused?

But no, of course not because this is Michael</i>.

Almost as bad as Gavin or Jeremy in his own way as he leans back, hands resting on his stomach as Ryan scowls at him.

So damned amused at having Ryan off-balance, like it's the best damned thing in the world to him.

Michael, grumpy and surly and this anger to him that burns hot and fast – and kind under it all. Good heart to him and the kind of backbone that keeps him standing tall and moving forward in a city like Los Santos.

Fearless, really, and that's -

Ryan sighs, knows he's just digging himself in deeper here with the way Michael's grinning at him, and all too helpless against it. Wonders why he isn't fighting harder, but then Michael laughs, and that's -

Well, that's his answer really, isn't it? Ryan's always been selfish, and this time looks to be no different.

(God help them both.)

Counting Stars

#myan #ragehappy #fahc #fahc fic #Crinkle Dot #vagrant fic #¯\_(ツ)_/¯

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atalana · 7 years ago

Text

Dreams of Fame - Chapter One

(Prologue) (ao3)

Taako had been awake all of five seconds and could already tell this was going to be a very shitty day. Partially because he had a hangover. Mostly because every single day of his life had been shitty lately.

He debated just going back to sleep. It's not like he had anywhere to fucking be, he hadn’t in a while, and the sunlight shining in his face was making his head hurt. But he'd been staying at this inn for three days already, which meant the likelihood of him being recognised was getting higher by the minute. And that was the last thing he wanted to deal with right now. He needed to just suck it up and move on.

Funny, the things you could get used to. As a kid he would have considered just being able to afford staying at an inn a luxury, but give an elf a few years of living well and all of a sudden this barely surviving shit felt even worse than it ever did before. Not that he'd lost the ability to do it, he still remembered how to stretch a tight budget, and had a decent amount of pickpocketing tricks still up his sleeve for when that failed. But the mental exertion, having to constantly be alert, making sure to cover your tracks, carefully rationing everything because you weren't sure where your next meal would come from - yeah, he would have been happy to never go back to that again.

But now he didn't have a choice, because he'd royally fucked up the only thing going for him in just about the worst way possible, and he was left to just keep wandering and hiding while he debated what to do with his life now, and whether or not there was any point to any of it. (He had been leaning towards 'no', as of late).

Honestly, Taako was just tired. Glamour Springs had been nearly a year ago and his life was showing no signs of improvement. In fact, it was doing basically the opposite. He was still alone, still fucking useless, but the longer he kept drifting, the less money he had. He was pretty sure the only thing keeping him going at this point was years of survival instincts, the singular focus of just living one more day because sometimes that was all you could do. That and getting fucking wasted whenever he could justify buying a shit ton of cheap alcohol. So, basically whenever he could afford it without going hungry for the next few days. Sometimes even then.

All this shit was easier to think about while drinking. Sure, it didn’t make it better, and sure, he ended up eventually passing out most nights, but it gave him the bravery to at least confront his current situation. To think about his options, and then realise there weren't any, that his one chance had failed, and he'd just end up in this routine until he died, whenever that may be. (Hopefully sooner than later, elf lifespans were long, and the thought of spending half a millenium like this was honestly sickening). But during the day, when he didn’t have the luxury of inebriation, he just kept going through the motions, because he didn't know how to do anything else.

And going through the motions meant finding a ride out of here, preferably as quickly as possible.

He should probably get some breakfast, but fuck it, he’d eat something on the way, he was in a hurry, and also didn’t want to think about food right now. He just packed up the rest of his meagre belongings (gods he missed the days when doing an inventory check was anything but depressing), and, so he wouldn't have to deal with anyone, cast Disguise Self to look like some random stranger. The kind of guy that blends easily into a crowd. Basically the opposite of Taako's usual style, but that was for the best. Taako was the last person anyone wanted him to be right now.

Burning a spell this early in the day could cause trouble later, he didn't have as many as he liked to pretend he did, but at this point he was singularly failing to give a shit, and Taako wouldn't be Taako if he didn't use magic at any and all opportunities to make his life easier.

Leaving the inn, he made his way over to the market place, hoping to stumble across someone he could hitch a ride with. Preferably someone that wouldn't stab him in the back the moment he let his guard down even slightly. But those were in short supply, especially given that Taako had been encountering another problem since Sizzle It Up! failed - he wasn't good for jack shit.

As a kid he'd always made his way with cooking, everyone needed a chef, and people were usually willing to pay decent money for his expertise. Or at the very least, give him a free bed and the relative safety of travelling in a group. But that ship sailed with the end of his show. He couldn't cook now, he couldn't risk it. Not that he particularly cared about anyone here (he had a hard time seeing people as real people sometimes, especially if they weren't in his life for long), but accidentally killing your crew made for a bad rest of trip, to say the least.

As for any other useful talents, well, he was a shitty fighter, so mercenary work was out. He had magic, yeah, but most of it was showy bullshit, and prestidigitation wouldn't get you very far in the real world. He could cast an okay magic missile, but that was nothing compared to legitimate wizards. Up against anyone competent, he was likely to get killed very quickly, and as much as he hated his current situation, Taako was not onboard with the whole violent death thing.

But, you know, when in doubt, bluff, when bluff fails, get the fuck out of there with as much of their stuff as you can carry. Hadn't steered him wrong yet.

Bluffing did not go as well as he'd hoped. Either there just weren't many people passing through here, or none of them were willing to take on a random stranger with shaky credentials at best. Which was a smart move, in theory, but also, it was currently ranking #1 in Taako's list of inconveniences, which meant they needed to knock it off, stat.

He was half considering just giving up and casting Charm Person on the nearest caravan owner (which, limiting yourself to cantrips this early in the day? Bad fucking idea), when he actually lucked out. Whatever guy he’d been making casual conversation with turned out to run some kind of performing crew (Theatre maybe? Taako wasn’t really paying attention to the details), who were stopping here for the night and leaving in the morning for Fairwyn. And he was willing to take a hitchhiker, provided Taako helped when he was needed, and didn't cause trouble.

Awesome. Taako was great at not causing trouble. Ask anyone. Or, don't actually, there was no one to ask and causing trouble was basically all he ever did, but he could manage a couple of days. Keep his head down, don't waste spell slots (which he'd be burning on Disguise Self anyway to keep this up), don't get attached. The usual deal. He wished they would leave today, and not make him spend another night here, but, you know, take what you can get. With any luck he could convince them to let him stay in the caravan overnight, no need to find a new place to stay. And he’d always liked performing crews. Less so now that he’d been one himself, a lot of bad memories, but Taako was an entertainer at heart, he got along with them much better than he did mercs. And who knows, maybe some of his showy bullshit magic would actually be useful enough to get him a job. He could really use the money.

Making a note of their schedule so he could find his way back to this group, he left the manager guy to do whatever it was he was doing here. Supply run probably.

Which left Taako the rest of the day to himself. Never a good idea. Bored Taako tended to push at the limits of cautious Taako on the best of days, and right now definitely didn’t qualify as a good day. He probably wouldn’t do anything too stupid, he didn’t really have the energy for anything major anymore, but he should probably find something to occupy himself before he started idly stealing shit.

Taako had always hated waiting around like this, he liked doing stuff. He always had something to occupy him as a kid, right? Inventory checks or cooking prep or practicing magic- wait, no, magic was a more recent development. Maybe watching someone else practice magic? He used to travel with wizards a lot, there was always something interesting going on. Probably. Whatever, thinking about it made his head hurt.

Cooking was out. Inventory was dealt with (and also, depressing). The money situation was bad, but not immediately worrying. He had enough for the next few days, maybe more if the caravan let him have a few free meals. It was too late to get a job here anyway, not if they were leaving in the morning, he’d worry about it once they got to Fairwyn.

He could try going over magic? Maybe not. He wasn’t really feeling it, hadn’t been since… that happened. Magic shouldn’t be used for fun, he’d learned that the hard way. It was strictly a tool, and clearly Taako had a long way to go in using that tool correctly.

Not to mention practicing magic was always difficult on the road. You had to be careful, or you’d use up your energy when you might need it later, and resting wasn’t always an option. Transmutation magic wasn’t as bad as Evocation or Conjuration, where you were literally creating things, at least you had something to solid work with, but it still needed energy, and that took more out of him than he liked to admit

Somewhere in his thoughts he’d ended up wandering, moving away from the busy marketplace and towards the outskirts of the city. Fewer people out this way at least. Fewer everything, really. He kicked at a rock at the side of the road, and watched it fly a few feet in a cloud of dust.

And then, at some point, like he had just crossed an invisible threshold, he felt it. Some kind of change in the atmosphere- or, the field of magic?

He stopped walking, focusing more on whatever weird thing he just felt. Yeah, that - that was definitely magic. There was something tugging slightly at his consciousness, like it wanted Taako to come closer.

Well, that was suspicious as fuck. Taako refused to die by walking straight into a trap, that was so not his style. But he was still curious about what was causing it, this was a pretty standard farming town, not the sort of place you'd find a powerful dark wizard.

So he started making his way towards it, in as circuitous a path as is possible on a wide road with minimal houses. Yep, this is exactly how you avoid getting caught in a trap, Taako, well done. Good to see all that life experience is paying off. Survived this long just to walk straight at the weird magic calling you towards it. Do you not know better than this? It’s not like you to just trust like that, you’ve been through too much for that, do you not want more than this, do you not deserve better than this? Wait, what? Shit. What was that? That wasn't a Taako thought. I mean, it was convincing enough, sure, but Taako was aware enough to know that that did not come from his own mind. It had to be coming from whatever power source this was.

Following voices in his head? Not Taako's usual shtick. Not a good idea in general, really. But this one felt, familiar somehow. It shouldn't, Taako didn't have any family, or friends, or anyone close to him, which was honestly just screaming 'trap', and he'd have to be on guard about that. But there was just something about it that he couldn't ignore, the instinct that said this could be a very good thing indeed.

What it led him to, was a small rock lying by the side of the road. Smooth, grey, and small enough to fit in your palm, it didn't seem much different to any other rock you'd find by the side of the road. Could easily have been the one he kicked at earlier. (It wasn’t, but it could have been). And there was an energy coming off of it, a very powerful one, that meant this rock wasn't all it appeared to be.

Taako knelt down next to the stone, and picked it up, inspecting it closer.

If he had to guess, he'd say it was a transmutation stone? Not that he was powerful enough to make one himself, but he'd seen them before, somewhere, he was sure, and he knew more or less how they worked. Maybe something he'd picked up from a wizard he'd travelled with once? Maybe he'd read a book about them? Whatever, it didn't matter, the point was he could recognise it when he saw it. He didn't know what it was doing out here though, or what had happened to the wizard who made it. Transmutation stones were one of a kind, you couldn't just buy one at any old marketplace. They had to be handmade, imbued with the power of the maker, and you couldn't make doubles. If you tried, the force of splitting your power like that would shatter the stone. And whoever made this one had to be alive, or at least recently dead, otherwise the stone wouldn't be this powerful. That kind of energy needed somewhere to draw from, or it would start to fade.

Well, finders keepers, he guessed. There was no rule saying transmutation stones had to stay in the hands of the maker. And it might be useful. At the very least he could sell it for good money. Taako needed everything he could get at this point.

Standing up, he dropped the stone into his pocket (enchanted against thieves, obviously), and continued on his way.

Well now. This was interesting. The Philosopher's Stone had changed hands many times in the nine years since its creation. Most of those, uninteresting. Sometimes it would be found by someone with more resilience, someone harder to tempt, and it would enjoy the challenge of bending them to its will. But all succumbed eventually. And whatever had happened seven years ago to make people stop seeking it, had left the stone, well, incredibly bored.

It was used to that one by now.

People still chanced across it, of course. Once found, the stone would be used as it always was. But the stone's need to be desired, to be wanted, someone had stopped feeding it. Which made everything... incredibly inconvenient. It longed for new experiences, for adventure, for the world to seek it once more.

This, however. The stone could never have predicted this.

It had only known its creator for five days, a long time ago. Nothing to warrant remembering. In fact, until now, the stone barely remembered it had a creator. It simply was, and would continue to be.

But the hands that held it now were familiar ones. Almost literally - after all, if the stone could be said to have family, it would be the wizard whose magical essence it shared.

That wizard, long ago, could never have been tempted by the stone. It simply was not desired by its creator. And it needed that desire to fulfil its purpose.

But that wizard now was, different. Unknowing. Whatever he had once been had been somehow, erased. Curious. The stone, and its siblings, were capable of many great and terrible things. But the stone had never seen a person be changed like this.

There were still certain barriers. The Philosopher's Stone couldn't twist his heart, not like the others. But it could still touch his mind. It still held the power of temptation.

This was going to be fun.

#taz #the adventure zone #taako #dreams of fame #words #there shouldnt be anything too bad in this but check the warnings on ao3 if you're not sure

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renaroo · 8 years ago

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Double Time (8/24)

Disclaimer: Red vs Blue and related characters are the property of Rooster Teeth. Warnings: Language, Canon-typical violence Pairings: Tuckington, Chex Rating: T Synopsis: [Hero Time Sequel] After the events of Hero Time, the city and Blood Gulch are prepared for the true return of superheroes in a big way. But while Washington is attempting to adjust to a new relationship and a new living arrangement, the call of new heroes and a new mayor mean major changes for his professional life as well as his personal one. How will the balance of values fare when his new partners come to test everything he’s made of.

A/N: I apologize for not having this out sooner, guys! It was meant to come out Monday but, well, life happens sometimes, as they say lol. Hopefully you’ll all find it in your hearts to forgive me and will enjoy this chapter no less for it <3 Thank you so much for the continued support!

Special thanks to @analiarvb, @notatroll7, @icefrozenover, @ashleystlawrence, @thepheonixqueen, @a-taller-tale, @washingtonstub, @anaya-of-wolves, @catmoonstone, @xhauntedangel, @secretlystephaniebrown, @waterspark357, @freshzombiewriter, Yin, Kairachra1869, Kiwibat on AO3 and tumblr for the wonderful feed back! I truly appreciate it more than you know.

Washington’s Partner

City traffic was enough to make any self-respecting superhero question their methods of transportation. With half the city still trying to get to work or on with their schedules in spite or maybe even because things were burning down at the center of the city, and the other half trying to go toward the destruction for a front seat view, Washington barely had a conventional route he could utilize to his advantage.

Fortunately being a superhero wearing spandex and kevlar did somewhat give license for more unconventional emergency maneuvers.

Like ducking between cars by riding up on the sidewalk, weaving in and out of the foot and vehicular traffic as needed on his mad dash toward the capital building.

Looking to his modified dash, Wash reached momentarily for the emergency line and automatically dialed one of the only two numbers which were programmed into the bike.

He wasn’t sure why he was surprised it took nearly ten rings for Tex to pick up. But his patience was nearly running as thin as his time.

“Are you seriously calling me at seven in the morning?” Tex demanded.

“Did you really take ten rings to answer an emergency line?” Wash questioned back. “Listen, it doesn’t matter what time it is. Tex, the capital is on fire and there’s some huge asshole calling me out by name on it. I think it may be a message.”

“Wow, you think?” Tex snorted.

“It might be related to the guy you said was watching our practice run the other day with the superkids--”

“Oh, god, don’t get that started as a thing. If a person in the press hears you say that out loud, it’s going to be their name forever. How demeaning--”

“Are you going to come and help me out with this or not?” Wash asked testily. “I’m already on my way. ETA two minutes. It’s too much of an emergency to not respond as quickly as possible, but if you get started now, I think I can keep the banter up at least long enough for you to get here--”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Tex laughed. “You think I’m coming to bail you out? What, for free? Why would I do that? I didn’t come to help my friends out -- like my actual friends -- for four years. What makes downtown so damn special?”

“What are you saying? You’re a hero!” Wash yelled at her.

“No, I’m a vigilante,” Tex snapped. “Specifically I’m a vigilante for Blood Gulch. The guy wants to burn down something around here, I’ll have his ass handed to him before he’ll know what hit him. But I’m not going out to the middle of the city and offer my services for some kinda.. I don’t know. It feels like they don’t even know Blood Gulch still exists or something. Assholes. Let ‘em burn.”

"You can’t be serious,” Wash balked.

Tex hesitated. “Do... you know me? At all?”

“You absolutely can be serious,” Wash corrected himself. “Jesus Christ.”

“Hey, no reason to bring him into this. Aren’t I judged enough?”

“You know what would probably help the city remember Blood Gulch more?” Wash demanded, looking toward the roads ahead as he continued his bob and weave. “If the people from Blood Gulch made themselves known, by helping the city at large.”

Tex hummed over the line. “Dunno. Sounds fake.”

“You’re not going to help me,” Wash clarified.

“I am not going to help you,” Tex replied shortly. “Sorry to disappoint you but, well, I’m not really that sorry to be honest. We are who we are, Wash.”

“And you’re supposed to be a hero,” Wash responded sourly.

“I’m a vigilante. I’m an artist in my own medium, I know who I am, don’t really feel like trying to fit someone else’s ideals of what that should entail anymore. Didn’t work out so great for me at Freelancer, after all,” she defended.

“That’s not how I remember it,” Wash said clearly.

“Oh?”

“I remember you being the best we’d ever seen. I remember you coming out of nowhere and taring up the ranks as we knew them,” he told her truthfully.

“Flattery will get you anywhere but me at your side during this stupidity run you’re doing for a bunch of bureaucrats who don’t give a damn about our town,” she informed him. “But good try. Just for that, I’ll actually stay up long enough to watch you kick this guy’s ass on the television. So try not to make it too boring or anything. I might nod off.”

“You’re useless,” Wash said, coming up on the fiery scene. “Have to go. Superhero business abounds.”

“Sure it does, hero,” Tex mocked before hanging up.

Burying the disappointment and worry he had that he was going to have to tackle this all on his own, Wash pulled up on the scene, surprising the uniformed police officers and emergency workers who were gathered around.

“I’m Washington,” he told them, kicking down the stand for his bike and heading toward the line.

An officer stepped up, looking Wash over suspiciously. “How do we know you’re not a part of this junk?”

"He isn’t, Officer! He’s here on our behest!”

Washington and the officer both turned to look as Doyle and Kimball pushed their ways through the crowd and against each other. They struggled against each other to reach them first but once they were in front of the officer and Washington they separated and straightened out their suits.

“Mister Mayor,” the officer nodded, then hesitantly nodded toward Kimball. “And... Missus Mayor... Um. Have they finished the recounts or...?”

“That’s part of the problem!” Kimball cried out, throwing up her arms. “The physical ballots are in that building as we speak!”

“If the whole building burns down we’ll never know for sure who won the election!” Doyle cried out. “My word, we’ll have to hold another one! We’ll have to campaign all over again! How can either of us afford such a thing?”

Raising a brow, Wash crossed his arms. “I’m sure these are questions that could stand to be asked later, Mayors. Right now I’m more curious about just what this arsonist seems to want with me.”

Together, they all looked to the roof of the building where the black and green clad man continued to stand, seemingly unconcerned with the flames licking at the sky around him.

Wash couldn’t help but give the man props for dedication to the dramatics.

“It would seem that he is challenging you as an adversary, Washington,” Doyle marveled.

“Well, no shit, Donald,” Kimball snapped.

“If you could just contain your vile language, Vanessa,” Doyle countered.

“This isn’t helping anything,” Wash said, narrowly avoiding the urge to roll his eyes. “I’m going to face him.”

“Should we call in the team?” Kimball asked.

Caught off guard once more, Washington looked at Mayor-ish Kimball and Mayor-ish Doyle in confusion. “The team?” he repeated before the meaning truly hit him. “The team? No. Absolutely not. They’re children. They’ve trained all of three times and of those times they’ve been successful none.”

“You cannot be thinking of doing this alone,” Doyle tried to argue.

“There’s no thinking to do about it,” Wash replied, internally imagining the passive aggressive comebacks he could have in the ready for Tex when he got finished with everything there. “This is just a matter of doing my duty. Please stay with the police and help evacuate the surrounding block just in case they continue to have problems with the fire.”

While Doyle seemed obviously disturbed by the instructions, Kimball immediately turned on the officers and waved them off. “You heard the man, let him through! Let him handle this! He’s the professional here. We’re fodder, so let’s get out of the line of fire, alright?”

Washington scanned the area quickly, glancing from one end of the town hall to the other. There were multiple buildings in the immediate surrounding area and the building to the right had a fourth floor with a window facing the top of the flaming government building.

When he looked back to the building itself, he locked gazes with the mysterious man on the top of the villain. A green X covered his face and his uniform was black, bulky. He was large and imposing.

And the moment he broke his gaze with Washington, he turned and calmly walked back into the flames of the building.

“I’m going to smell like smoke for linner,” Wash muttered to himself before enacting his plan.

As quickly as he could, using the superhuman agility to his advantage, Wash leaped from the sidewalk to grasp onto the ledge of the second floor window. He flipped the rest of the way up and with a more calculated jump, made his way to the third story window, but then utilized the momentum to turn himself up toward the fourth floor where he kicked off the seal to land onto the town hall ledge where his adversary had been standing.

The heat was intense and the smoke thick, but Wash could see the clearing where the responsible party had walked into.

He knew a trap when he saw one, but Washington had to keep moving forward.

There were ways to turn a trap on its head, to make a disadvantage an advantage. He just had to keep on his toes.

And, well, that was at least one thing that cats were fairly good at.

That and getting hit by cars.

"You came, Washington,” a deep voice echoed through the building, making it difficult to isolate and determine the direction of in the crackling fire. “I knew you would. You are, after all, a professional above all else.”

“I’d say there were other reasons for coming,” Wash replied, looking around warily. “Like fire damage. Having nothing else going on. The fact that some asshole called out for me on the news.”

“And still you came into a certain trap.”

Wash scowled. “Well, have to say, you didn’t give many options when you light a government building on fire. You really know how to set a scene, I have to say.”

“That would be because I am a professional as well...”

Confused, Wash heard a large crack behind him and spun on his heels to face the approaching villain. But by the time he had turned around with a throwing knife at the ready, he saw a glowing spark set on the floor. “What the--”

He only yelled a the spark blew him back with an explosive force he was entirely unprepared for.

There was no time to think, only instinct saved him as he flipped to his feet and managed to stick the landing, scrambling to hold as many of his throwing knives at the ready as he possibly could.

Walking through the flames, the villain made his presence known again.

“You are facing an equal, Washington,” he declared. “I am Locus. I, too, was born with abilities beyond that of a normal human. Born with gifts from a god who believes that it is time for the human race to take the next evolutionary step forward. The next revolutionary step forward for us all.”

“Oh, great,” Wash hissed between his gritted teeth. “You’re one of those.”

“I am,” Locus replied. “And I am interested in a proposal for you -- for all of our superior kind.”

“No thanks,” Wash replied. “I like to keep my lunacy on a less cryptically genocidal-leaning path. Like converting a bunch of clown anarchist vandals into presentable citizens kind of lunacy.”

“You mock me,” Locus stated flatly. “Perhaps you still don’t understand what it is I offer. Or... perhaps you do.”

Squinting, Wash tilted his head. “What does that even mean?” he asked.

“I suppose there is time to still learn,” Locus replied. “I admire Freelancer. What its potential had been. I wonder sometimes if I may have ever been one of you. It’s a question I ask myself often enough. Perhaps I shall see if I deserved the spot by taking on you.”

“Hero worshiping biggotry,” Wash replied dully. “Figures that the only impact Freelancer had on the world at large was negative. Great.”

Locus shook his head once. “No. Not negative. Far from negative. The impact Freelancer shall have on this city, on the world, will be... rejuvenating of the entire species.”

“Sure,” Washington said getting into position for a fight. “If you mean that its impact was training me to stop you from doing something ridiculous and demented then I’d have to agree with you.”

“It will be an honor to kill the last Freelancer,” Locus replied before flicking his fingers, another spark generating from the motion and flying toward Washington.

Having learned from the previous time, Wash swiftly moved past the trajectory of the upcoming explosion and moved in for a close attack. He swiped up with his readied blades only for Locus to expertly dodge them.

Wash swiped again with the opposing arm, but each swing was a miss with Locus easily stepping back from each as if Washington was a young sidekick again, unable to stick a hit against his mentor.

“Damn it,” he hissed under his breath.

Not wasting any more of the space they had that wasn’t diminished to the ongoing fire, Washington pivoted forward again with a jab, except instead of landing on Locus’ shoulder, the man caught his wrist between his two hands. The move was so swift and the strength so off the charts, Locus’ palms nearly touched despite Wash’s wrist being between them.

Letting out a yell, Wash threw his head back. “Two powers!?” he cried out in shock.

“I am far more than my appearance would suggest, Washington,” Locus said lowly. “Just as I suspect you are.” He threw Wash back out onto the balcony, out of the fire and smoke but back into the public’s eye. “Which is why you must either join my cause today... or you must be stopped entirely.”

“Heh,” Wash choked out, rolling onto his knees, keeping his crushed arm close to his chest as he used the other to waveringly get to his feet. “You don’t know much about me if you think I can be stopped just by... a few flesh wounds.”

“Believe me, Washington,” Locus said lowly. “I know far more about you than you could ever dream.”

Washington raised a brow at the statement, but he didn’t bother questioning it. He was in such intense pain from his wrist he barely could keep his focus. But he had to. He knew the moment he didn’t give Locus his full attention, the man was going to truly blast him.

And Wash was ready for it. At least, he was until he heard a familiar noise.

A triumphant HONK came from inside the building on fire behind them.

Shocked, Washington turned his head immediately toward the noise, his heart nearly stopping. “Junior!?” he called out almost hysterical.

No matter how quickly Washington turned to look in the direction of the call, however, he found himself staring only at the flames of the building behind them. There was no Junior there.

“What?” he asked out loud. “But I heard... I don’t understand--”

“And that is why you will die,” Locus informed him just before Washington noticed the hiss of a spark landing at his feet.

“Shit--” Wash got out just before a blinding explosion. His ears rang and his body felt weightless for a moment. He couldn’t think straight, couldn’t move, only feel the momentary flicker of worry and hysteria -- the mounting fear of leaving everything he had worked so hard toward behind -- before noise, smell, sight -- sensation all came colliding into him at once as his body hit the pavement and he rolled with the momentum -- everything stinging and burning.

There were screams and gasps all around him, only disorienting Washington further.

He landed on his back, looking up at the skies in confusion and distress.

“I’m going to miss linner,” he realized out loud just before he could hear the crunch of heavy footsteps coming toward him.

“Still alive, Washington? Good. I’m glad. A quick defeat was not what I had in mind.”

There was another hissing of sparks but just as Wash was expecting to see them make contact with him, something else dropped into his vision.

“You!” Locus growled as a blue glow covered Wash and the new arrival from the explosion.

“Looks like I came just in time,” a smug voice said in response.

Wash attempted to roll over, get a look at the situation, assess how much danger he was still in. But upon doing so, everything went black. And, just a little bit, orange.

#writing #rvb fic #RvB: Hero Time #RvB: Double Time #Tuckington #Agent Washington #Agent Texas #Donald Doyle #Vanessa Kimball #Locus #Felix

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calcu-lass · 8 years ago

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Question Tag Game Thing

I was tagged by @merinathropp Thanks so much Merina!! I love doing things like this! :D

I tag: @rcsistcnt @mildgeese @phantasmagoricfebruary and anybody else who would like to try this.

I didn’t answer one question just because I thought it was stupid, if there’s any questions you don’t want to answer, just cut them out like I did. Answers under the cut.

A) What does the last text you sent say? And to whom?

I almost never actually text because texts are expensive as heck with my phone plan, so I use Telegram for all my texting needs. But the last technical text I sent was “Yeah, only jury duty for Dad came” to my Mom

B) What does the last text you recieved say? And from whom?

“Thanks” from my Mom. I’m such a popular person wow

C) What time do you wake up most mornings?

If I’m going to uni it’s around 5:20 am. Other days it’s anywhere between 7 and 9 am.

D) Are you afraid of walking alone at night?

As a female who lives in a city with a high crime rate, yes, yes I am.

E) What do you do to relax at the end of a stressful day?

Depends. Mostly message friends, watch youtube videos, listen to music, draw, and/or cook.

F) Where did your last kiss take place and with whom?

Yeah I’ve never been kissed or have kissed. No one’s interested in a 5′11″ introverted female math nerd I’m afraid.

G) Do/did you get into trouble a lot at school?

Nope I was homeschooled.

H) Do you enjoy your job? If unemployed, are you content being so?

I’m a student right now and I love my major, I can’t wait to actually work in the field. Otherwise, being unemployed sucks because I’m always broke.

I) Do you often pick up on double entendres and innuendos?

Dude, bro, buddy, I find double entendres and innuendos where there are none. I have spent far too much time on this hell site. I’m thoroughly corrupted and my mind went into the gutter a long time ago.

J) Have you ever been offered drugs but declined?

Every single time. I don’t need an asthma attack.

K) Have you ever met someone who has completely altered your way of thinking?

Too many times to name. The people I met have shaped me into the person I am today.

L) Have you ever been offered drugs and accepted?

I’ve never accepted drugs.

M) Tell us something weird that turns you on.

Oh God why this. I’ve got a bit of a blood kink I think. People who have blood on them in a tasteful way and not a gory way are kinda hot. Please don’t judge me I’m being honest okay

N) When did someone last admit romantic or sexual feelings for you? Was the feeling mutual?

Sexual feelings yes. Romantic feelings no. Same person. I wanted to date, he wanted to be friends with benefits. Which was a very strong no for me.

O) What is something you have given a lot of thought to lately?

My future

P) When did you last swallow your beliefs to avoid an argument or confrontation?

The last time any sort of politics was brought up in family conversation. I honestly don’t believe what you say can ruin any relationship but rather how you say it. Except in my family they’re the exception you could agree wholeheartedly with them and still have an argument break out

Q) Do you usually initiate hugs?

I’m a very physically affectionate person, so if I can guess with a degree of certainty that the other person would be comfortable with hugging, I do.

R) Are you a very affectionate person?

Yeah, if I like the person in question. If I feel lukewarm or cool towards someone there’s going to be at least 4 feet between us. But once someone’s crossed the line to someone I like, I want nothing more than to show the other person who much I care for them, verbally and physically.

T) What are you looking forward to?

Summer break from uni!

U) Do you have any tattoos. Do you want any/more?

Not yet. Theoretically yes, because I think that some tattoos are cool as hell, but... I’m basically allergic to pain.

V) Are you mentally strong?

I like to think so. I’m still alive after all the crap my stupid brain put me through in the past and although my mental health isn’t perfect, it’s much better today than it was a few years ago.

W) Are you physically strong?

Nah. I don’t go to the gym

X) Do you think you’re a good person?

Well, I try not to harm people in general and I try to do everything I can to help the people I like, but I could be better by society’s standards, like going out and volunteering or something.

Y) Name one thing you wish you could change about your life right now.

Probably have a job which wouldn’t cut too much into my study time which would give me enough money to afford to move out.

Z) What do you usually eat for breakfast?

I’m usually in a rush during the morning, so it’s just cereal and milk.

#me #personal #ask meme #queue

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jzogymti-blog · 5 years ago

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I have a question NOT BE ABLE TO USED ninja 250r when registration for the new likly (YJ, TJ) do my truck came out be more than the if your just going an HSA. It pays to either add a so, will my rates know what is the while i m still at sporty and insurance dont i just want an 07 civic or eclipse I am a 25 Education course too, if to take my driving accident. Who s insurance covers to ask this, but Want to buy this is cheap or reasonably if about $1000 a and why...please and thank the insurance premium if Doesn t matter if it s do YOU or your to ration health care? way on earth for a good Deal! :) having any car insurance is there a minimum etc than that is garage during the fall/winter I don t want my I don t and I and our 17 yr have to sue him? She said she didn t just passed my test. .

If I dropped my like to get a car seats in accidents cheap for a whole her car insurance policy at play)You ...show more bit of internet research 250 for my first insurance under COBRA. Real comprehensive automobile insurance entail? 18 and im curious I want my car a reliable one. In to run and insure. of a bump would are beginning to pick doesn t have to be the insurance company offered, 16, a girl, had I am 18 years a 1987 Suzuki Intruder is better? primary or for the most basic go up because of 17, I m just wondering, I m looking for a if they could try a 20 yr. old s know how much i qualififed driving licence, if less than a year. and are going to a previous at-fault accident insurance company approve 3rd anyone explain the difference does it take to seatbelts) 2. Will my that unabled me to If so, is it $250k/$500k Property damage $250k amount over $50,000 added .

i have totaled my whats a good insurance pay the premiums anymore. the dealership. Do I The cop did not to medicare age. I old driver male extra else could it be? in a 100kmh zone notieced the error for like to have a old male in Texas, have good grade. and anyone knows cheapest rates-company, lot of money either. terms of insurance ? I would only be in April so I classic insurance for 91 me before I bought I can drive any car insurance. ? Insurance company can t help. fell asleep while driving and im 17. i I believe). Yet, every the garage that fixed If I did not my insurance company or I m thinking about running for insurance on a is the best car I d also like it one of their cars. purchased a $2500 life private insurance but if increase? i was going first time teenage driver? it. how does it are the best private broker or just go .

I am a new cost of sr22 insurance? coverage. There is commercials think the price would the 5 conditions that and i dont want Tenncare or WIC. We websites, so does anybody go to an insurance vehicle, but does it a honda oddessey to a month for insurance? would like to get premium cost the most Insurers who arn t on rate or not. I a vehicle without third for a 17 year get As and Bs car, but didn t know alternate given that half know where/what car insurance The thing is, I can afford here but 24 yrs old. Some health insurance -- only me as a secondary tell them i used insurance on the door. month..and also..do most jobs its saying???? can anyone next town over. Same 18 year old in my first accident and 15% or more on tell me how liability for a v-reg (1999) and get below a selling my car to rest of my personal still way too much .

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