#nothin quality but good enough to focus on

[honeymoonhospital]

Drawing thinspo in my notebook xoxoxo

[aries-writingblog]

Chaos in Motion

Summary: A pair of thieves prepare for a night on the town. Their evening includes dinner and drinks, followed by the heist of a lifetime.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (Partners in Crime)

Word count: 3.9k

Warnings: minor violence, language, innuendos

AN: This is more of an action fic, so it’s not as fluffy but I had a lot of fun writing it and I hope it is linear. GIF is not my own, credit to original creator.

Bucky’s fingers stretched across the small of her back, palm flat against the warm skin. YN raked a hand through her hair before inching closer to his body. She spared a glance up into his metallic blue eyes, a small smirk playing on his lips.

Stick to the plan, they said. Everything will be smooth sailing.

She hummed quietly in response. Not quite returning his full confidence. She believed in their quality of work, of course. She wouldn’t be there if she didn’t. But this time… it was a different set of parameters. This was a new ball field— even for the pair of accomplished thieves.

One slip up, one false step… one, or both, of them was going to be killed before the night was over.

So, their normal Thursday evening.

“Three on my nine.” Bucky’s voice was low in her ears. YN used his shoulder as a shield, sending a meticulous glance in the area he indicated. Her eyes landed on three gentlemen mingling in groups, just barely spaced out enough to be separate entities.

They all donned the same black blazer over a black button up with black slacks: uniforms. Their subtlety wasn’t as strong as they could’ve hoped for. Guards. Security detail. Tasked with the mission of being inconspicuous, even to the trained eye. YN didn’t know if they were novices or just plain stupid- it didn’t matter much. Her chest felt lighter, knowing the guards weren’t as smart as they were.

As the couple pushed through the front doors, into the grand ballroom, YN’s eyes skimmed the perimeters. Searching for the same black on black combination the others sported. Sure enough, a group of them stood on the outside fringes of the partygoers, pretending to mingle. She cringed as one laughed a bit too loudly, head thrown back too far. Trying far too strongly to act nonchalant. Their acting definitely needed work.

Rich people were always so stupid.

“I win- I’ve got five on my two.” YN declared giddily, her fingers tapping his knuckles. Bucky rolled his eyes, his grin blossoming into a full blown smile, shaking his head. “That means you owe me dinner, Barnes.”

“How about an all or nothin’, sweetheart?” He prompted. YN scoffed, their feet carrying them toward the bar in the corner. She should’ve known that Bucky wouldn’t let her win a bet, just like that. The man was much too competitive for his own good. “It’s a good deal, I promise.”

“No more all or nothings- alright? You always pull that move. It’s cheating.” YN teased, accepting a flute of champagne from a waiter. Bucky gave a dazzling smile to her as he slipped one from the platter himself.

“This one is legit this time.” He promised, begging her to take the bait. She huffed a playful sigh, pursing her lips. His eyes sparkled at her, waiting for her to cave. Watching the decision flickering behind her eyes.

“Focus, Barnes.” She finally declared, denying his request for an extended bet. Bucky sighed dramatically, faux disappointing flooding his features.

He was tempting, sure, his offer paired with a face she almost couldn’t refuse.

Bucky himself was dressed head to toe black, not dislike the security detail stationed around the gathering. Of course, he pulled it off much better- broad shoulders filling the jacket out, thick thighs bulging against the seams of his dress pants. Dark hair tucked neatly behind his ears, the beginning of a tattoo peeking over his collar. Crystal blue eyes scanning the surroundings with an intense gaze.

Every few paces, they would be drawn back to YN’s satin clad figure at his side. Trailing down the ruffle of her black dress, her exposed collarbones and elegant hairstyle. As worried as he had been about the extra thirty minutes she had taken to get dressed, Bucky couldn’t say he was disappointed.

She was glowing. Exquisite and breathtakingly beautiful. It only made it worse to be painfully aware of what hid under her devastating beauty.

Armed to the teeth with handmade weaponry, knives and handguns all tucked neatly and inconspicuously blending into her wardrobe. Bucky had nearly had an aneurysm when she strapped a Glock to her garter belt before leaving their home. Unable to keep his hands to himself.

She could raise enough hell to bring the rapture. Bucky would follow her through it— vying for her adoration and attention.

“You seeing what I’m seeing?” YN hummed, disrupting Bucky’s trance as his eyes followed hers.

At the top of the stairs, the host of the evening had finally emerged from his foxhole. Ulysses Klaue. Grey hair slicked back— black blazer over his beer belly and broad shoulders. The scar on his face gleamed under the bright lights from above.

Gala nights were Klaue’s claim to fame in those parts. He stocked up on cash for easy transactions. Buying, selling, investing- the man ran a market from his office space every few months. Poor schmucks ran from miles around to get in on the action. Hoping they could impress the boss man enough to be put into the permanent clientele pool.

But the most interesting part wasn’t even the host— it was the first in line to greet him that caught YN’s attention.

The Grandmaster.

No one knew much about him— just that he had an impressive production set up around Staten Island. He moved product no one had even heard of. And it was all legit.

And he was extremely exclusive. Only two or three people were in business with him, their contracts airtight. Sworn to secrecy with any sliver of information. To see him out and about at Klaue’s gala? Very rare indeed.

“Mmm…” Bucky grinned, mind racing as he concocted theories of getting closer to the man. If tonight went as planned, he could only imagine getting into the Grandmaster’s stash.

It would certainly be a challenge but the pair was always looking for entertainment. A new heist might just cure their boredom…

“I see it,” Bucky confirmed, squeezing her waist eagerly. “You thinkin’ what I am?”

“It’d be a bigger operation… might have to pull some strings to get a few more guys on deck.” YN pondered aloud, entertaining the idea of stealing from the Grandmaster.

“It would be nice to work with everyone again.” Bucky agreed, sipping his champagne. YN hummed, watching as the Grandmaster hurried back down the stairs. Klaue was grinning like a maniac— it must’ve been good news for him.

Too bad that word would spread like wildfire after the night was over. Klaue’s black market reputation would burn to ashes with the news of a theft occurring right under his nose.

Her eyes drifted away from the two men, back to the guards surrounding the hall. The groups were beginning to disperse, many of the men dressed down in all black were now mingling in new areas. The few loners had also switched places.

The rotation had begun.

It was time.

“Why don’t you scope out some of those pieces, hm? I need to go touch up a little if I’m going to make it the whole evening.” YN brushed her fingertips over his cheekbone, grazing down his sharp jawline before gripping his face and bringing it to her. She pressed a lingering kiss to his pink pouting lips, relishing in the feeling of him chasing for another taste as she pulled away.

“Don’t be too long.” Bucky murmured, his eyes serious as they bored into her own. To outsiders, it was a sweet sentiment— the stocky, six foot man wanted nothing more than his girl at his side all night. Basking in her attention and company. As much as that was truthful, there was another side to their story. It was a warning.

Bucky had also picked up on the rotation the guards were all on. Every seven minutes exactly, they would all follow pattern. Pressing a finger to their ear and murmuring lowly under their breath before continuing to mingle ‘inconspicuously’. It was a check in system. Ensuring everyone was in place and still active.

If the check in was missed or off by a matter of seconds— their operation would be exposed.

“Sugar, I’m nothing if not prompt.” YN teased, pressing a final kiss to his cheek before backing away. Giving him a wink before she turned— sashaying through the crowds and disappearing around the corner.

YN tossed a glance over each shoulder before ducking behind the nearest pillar, tucking herself into the corner. Leaning against the wall, she grunted as she slipped her heels off, bare feet meeting the cold marble tile.

“Barnes owes me big time.” She grumbled, licking her thumb and dragging it over her eye makeup. Pouting as she smeared it down her face haphazardly. Swiping over her red lipstick a couple times to enforce the look.

Ugh, she had put so much effort into this look. She had wanted to sweat it off later— getting in some… cardio. Not ruin it for some low grade idiot with half a brain and a gun.

Running her hand though her hair, fluffing it just enough to make it messy, YN finally emerged from the shadows. Putting a little dash of tipsy in her gait. She hummed under her breath, a bubble of anticipation roiling in her belly as the nearest bodyguard stiffened at her appearance.

“Ma’am, I’m afraid you’ll have to turn back. No entry beyond this point.” His baritone voice spoke with authority. Rumbling over the empty hallway. YN giggled to herself, keeping her eyes downcast, ignoring his instructions. She swung her shoes in her hand, throwing her arms out as if to balance herself as she began singing off key.

“Nobody does it like you do, I know how much it matters to— you!” YN hiccuped loudly as her eyes lifted, finally landing on her prey. She tossed her shoes to the side, arms open wide as she approached him. Her teeth sinking into her bottom lip as she grinned. “Aren’t you just the cutest!”

Her hands landed against his chest, sliding up to his neck. She took note of the bulletproof vest under his uniform, as well as the gun belt around his waist. No doubt the weapon behind his back. The man’s hands immediately latched to her wrists. Pulling her away.

“Ma’am, you have to leave this area. Guests are not allowed here.” He warned again, turning to begin escorting her back to the party. He grimaced as he caught a whiff of the alcohol lingering under her perfume.

YN whined, rolling her head over her shoulders dramatically. She yanked her hands free, sinking them into the guard’s jacket. Tugging on him to pay attention to her.

“But if I go back out there I’ll see my husband and his little girlfriend.” She hissed, tightening her grip on his lapels. The man’s eyes widened, obviously not anticipating the strength she could hold. “He claims they’re just working together but I know he’s been screwing her on the side for months— you don’t have to give me that pitiful look!” She snarled, bringing him in closer, a sadistic grin clouding her features as their proximity closed in.

“He just doesn’t know I’ve been fucking her too. And a lot better than he has at that.”

YN’s hands slid toward his throat again, pressing closer to his body. Distracting him with a lust drunken smile. Just as he went to pull away, she pressed a micro needle into his skin. Supporting his weight as his eyes rolled back into his head, collapsing against her chest.

She grunted, adjusting to shove him up onto her shoulders. She glancing back one last time before moving quickly, opening the custodial closet and shoving him in. She stripped his gun from his waist, snatching the comm unit from his ear as well. YN locked the door, dusting her hands off with a satisfactory huff.

“Right on schedule, sweetheart.” Bucky rounded the corner, adjusting his collar as he stripped the bow tie from his neck.

“I’m nothing if not prompt.” She smirked playfully, exchanging his bow tie for the supplies she had lifted from their friend. Bucky frowned at the gun, wiping the earpiece off before pressing it into place.

“They couldn’t have had a little more taste in craftsmanship? That’s just disrespectful.” His tsked, shaking his head woefully. YN hummed, clipping it around his waist.

“I doubt you’ll need it anyways.” She responded, snatching her shoes from their discarded position in the middle of the hallway. Bucky held her steady as she slipped them back onto her feet. “You’ve got six minutes until the next rotation. Make sure you avoid Klaue as you take the main staircase, alright?”

“Sweetheart— this ain’t my first rodeo. Quit your worryin’.” Bucky insisted, giving her a nudge down the hallway. YN huffed a dramatic sigh at his arrogance, pursing her smeared lips as she hurried down the hallway.

~~~~~

Getting past Klaue was easier than Bucky had anticipated. The man was half drunk, chatting up a pair of women near the base of the stairs. He hadn’t even given Bucky a second glance as the thief slipped up the stairs. Supposedly one of the hired guards, on rotation change.

As soon as he was out of sight from the partygoers, Bucky loosened his collar, finally able to breathe after wading through the much too crowded room. He glanced down at his watch: nine minutes remaining on their blackout.

While YN had been taking care of their security guard friend, Bucky had contacted Sam. He had been on standby for the night. Sam had easily slipped past the firewalls of Klaue’s security network. Implementing a corrosive virus into the system— effectively looping their live feed from all cameras for thirty minutes.

Just enough time for their plan to go unhitched.

Bucky slipped through the large mahogany office doors into the expansive, decadent room. He could barely hear YN moving about in the back room, the dull thwack of money being tossed into bags.

He quickly crossed the room, finding the safe relatively easily. YN stood before it, shoveling stacks of cash from the safe into one of the duffel bags. When she heard his footsteps, YN grinned back at him, sidestepping as he closed in.

“Nothin’ sweeter than an easy steal.” YN cackled, gloved fingers slipping stacks of cash into a bag. Bucky sidled up behind her, sneaking a soft kiss to her jaw. Her nimble fingers never faltered, steadily sweeping the safe clean. Not a shred of evidence left behind.

“I can think of a couple things, sugar.” He teased, fingertips digging into her hips. YN laughed, throwing her head back. Bucky took the chance to press another quick, messy kiss to her lips. Gazing into her adoring eyes. Her elbow made gentle contact with his belly, giggling quietly.

“Come on and help me bag this.”

“You got it, baby.”

As much as she adored his constant doting affection, YN knew they were on a clock. Their time was almost up- at midnight, the party would dwindle and Klaue would be upstairs. In the office they currently occupied.

Midnight was when his deal driving hours commenced. In fifteen minutes, he would be upstairs with twenty to thirty powerful brokers. All of them armed to the teeth, looking to bank roll from the expansive office. They would have no problem in getting rid of two thieves if it put them in good graces with Klaue.

YN slipped the last bag into the cart, working quickly to erase trace evidence of their presence in the room. It wasn’t much work: close the safe, wipe it down (just for good measure), reboot the camera systems with the current feed.

“All ready to roll?” Bucky declared, reaching into one of the duffels, fishing a white button up from its confines. YN threw the cloth over the cart, quickly unzipping her dress and stepping out of it.

Bucky quickly gathered it up, rolling it to shove onto the second shelf of the cart as YN pulled the shirt over her shoulders, dress slacks over her legs. She shoveled all of her hair into one hand, tucking it back into a ponytail before tying the bow tie she had taken from Bucky under the collar of the shirt.

He passed her a makeup wipe as he crossed the floor to the window. Sam had flown the duffel bags to the window with RedWing, allowing YN to snatch them before packing everything away. Sparing a glance down to the ground, Bucky spotted the get away car Steve had left in the alley a few days prior. He could see RedWing scanning it for trackers as he closed the window.

He turned back to see YN at the door, waiting for him to catch up. Bucky quickly joined her, opening the mahogany gates for her to stroll through.

“See you in five?” YN asked, taking hold of the cart handles. Bucky smirked, closing the door as they exited.

“Darling, let’s make it four.”

~~~~~~

The engine roared to life as Bucky pressed the gas, whipping out of the backend of the alleyway. YN stripped the bow tie from her neck, gasping out with an exaggerated flourish.

“Ugh— how did those servers manage to breathe with those things on?” She gripped, rolling the car window down. Bucky shrugged following suit.

The night air whipped around the car, blowing escaped strands of hair across Bucky’s face. Tickling his skin as his knuckles tightened on the steering wheel.

The anxious anticipation of the evening was beginning to wind down, but a new spark of excitement flickered through his bones. A smile threatened to break on his lips as he stared down the road.

“We did it baby.” YN exhaled, a slow grin taking over her features. Bucky chuckled, glancing over and meeting her eyes. They shimmered with pride at how well their heist had been planned. How brilliantly executed.

“We did it.” Bucky confirmed.

And just like that— the bubble of excitement burst. YN’s face split into the largest smiles Bucky had ever seen on her.

YN let out an abrupt whoop, clapping her hands together. Bucky smiled as she leaned out of the window, her hollers of exhilaration being drowned out by the whistling wind blowing her hair back.

She slid back into her seat, eyes glimmering brightly as she leaned over the center console. Her hands grasped Bucky’s chin, her fingertips against his face, guiding his face closer. Her cold lips pressed to his jaw, trailing kisses up to his lips.

Bucky sighed, contentedly his eyes almost drifting closed. His knuckles gripped the wheel tighter, begging to brush against her skin. To celebrate with her. The longing built in his chest, threatening to make it burst as her hands trailed down further, dipping into his unbuttoned shirt. Fingers pressed to his tattooed chest.

The sudden sound of the bumps on the side of the road sent Bucky reeling back into his body. A small noise of alarm slipped from YN’s lips as he jerked the wheel, bringing the car back between the lines. His blue eyes cut over to YN, one hand coming from the wheel to brush her messy hair back gently.

“Easy, baby, I’m drivin’. I wanna get you home safe.” He chuckled, his thumb brushing her cheek softly. YN whined playfully, sulking back down into her seat. Crossing her arms over her chest. Bucky’s laugh echoed around the cabin of the car, bringing a hand across to rest on her thigh. “Then we can play rough all you want.”

YN giggled, stretching back into her seat. Her eyes traversed from Bucky’s side profile, watching the world whisk by them as he pressed the gas harder. The streetlights held a hazy halo of light around their bulbs, the mist of midnight’s dew settling over the city. She couldn’t see the stars, light pollution drowning out their radiant beacons. The moon was just barely visible, peeking out from behind a skyscraper. Beaming down on the street, illuminating empty crosswalks.

“We’ve gotta leave tomorrow morning though. Make it to Barbados in time.” YN explained, her voice breaking into their silence. Bucky hummed, sparing a glance to the rear view mirror as they passed a lone car driving the opposite direction.

“We’ll have plenty of time. No one at that gala in charge of security was smart enough to catch us then. They won’t be able to track us later either.”

YN rolled her eyes, her head tilting against the head rest to watch as Bucky drove.

“Arrogance.” She teased, a slight warning to her tone. “I like it.”

Bucky snorted, shaking his head in opposition to her sarcasm.

“Confidence, sugar. There’s a difference.”

YN laughed, her head thrown back in glee as she settled down. Her fingers laced between his, resting against her thigh.

~~~~~~

YN’s feet dragged up the steps, her arms stretching over her head as a low groan filtered from her chest. Bucky was hot on her heels, having a rather difficult time keeping his eyes off her backside.

“I’ll call Nat in the morning for her to take the cash.” YN informs him, a yawn breaking through her words. Her fingers fumbling slightly with the keys as she inserted the wrong one into the lock. She frowned, blinking a few times to shake the grogginess from her mind. “We can drop it off on our way to the plane and she can get started. Should be in our accounts by Saturday.”

Bucky took note of her swaying figure— practically falling asleep as she pushed the door open. All the adrenaline had finally faded from her veins, leaving nothing but the fog of sleep behind. Pulling her into sleepiness. He pressed a hand to the small of her back, guiding her through the doorway.

“I’ve got a surprise for you.” Bucky stated, a sudden uproar of butterflies set fury upon his stomach. His mouth drying out. He hadn’t been expecting to have such an intense bout of nerves set in over his body but he was exhausted from the evening’s events. His mind playing tricks on his body— telling himself he needed to be nervous for her reaction.

His hand dug through his pocket, finding the item immediately. It had been burning a hole in the fabric nearly all night. Whispers persuading him to stall the heist, just to see it against her skin.

YN’s shoulders sagged slightly as she recalled the last time the brunette had a ‘surprise for her’. While it had been rather surprising, YN would scream if he pulled the same gag again.

“What have I told you, Bucky- no one likes to turn around and see your-“

“Ta da.” His eyes sparkled as he smiled, watching her mouth flounder open. Obviously taken aback by his gift.

Dangling between extended fingers, a simple strand of diamonds glittered. Begging her to reach out and touch, to give in to their beckoning call.

“It’s beautiful…” YN murmured, her heart melting as Bucky’s face morphed into an even broader grin. Pride flaring in his chest as he moved behind her.

She swept her hair away, holding it as Bucky clipped the necklace around her neck. Pressing a kiss to her nape before he backed away. The cold diamonds draped gracefully across her collarbones, in the dip of her throat. Bucky nearly lunged forward, a hunger to accentuate his claim burning his sternum.

He reached forward, turning her body to face his. Keeping her pressed against his chest, he traced her lips with his thumb before stretching his fingers across her jaw, turning her face toward his. Thumb tugging her bottom lip. Simply admiring the black ink that decorated his hand, against the smooth skin of her face.

“It’s you and me, understand?” Bucky’s voice rumbled, the vibrations of the baritone octave running through Yn’s chest. Blue eyes clear, expressing every emotion that he couldn’t find words for. He tilted his head forward, their foreheads touching gently as he whispered. “Only you.”

[musesbykai]

💭+ MEMORY + Detroit

Already, Oron made a major mistake. He dressed for Australian weather in a place that was far colder than he has ever experienced. After a forty seven hour travel time, the cold was the last thing that he wanted to deal with right now. While walking between the plane and the airport terminal, Oron looked up at the lit up cityscape in the distance. AVs were flying in and out of the city, it looked rather impressive from his perspective.

All his life he lived in a town, no more than thirty thousand people. Now he found himself in a city of millions. A light breeze reminded the Australian that he was not warm enough to just stand there, he had to get inside quickly.

—

Outside of the airport, a large truck was in the pick up zone. Oron approached slowly, peering into the window. A man was in the driver’s seat, surprisingly another Australian. His green eyes looked through the rear view mirror, seeing the other start to move to the side. “Ayyy! There’s he is, the guy that’s wanted by a whole fucking country!” The other Australian laughed as Oron opened the passenger door.

“G’day.” Oron grunted as he slid into the seat, closing the door. He was clearly not in the mood for joking. “How ya doin’ Wayne?”

“Yeah good mate.” Wayne turned on the engine, starting to drive off from the pick up zone. “How are you doing?”

Oron shot him a look. “Tired… couldn’t really sleep.”

“I can imagine there’s a lot on ya mind.” Focusing on the road, Wayne didn’t really look at Oron meanwhile the wanted man kept his eyes on the city that was in front of them. “You got out just in time, your face is all over the news.”

“What are they saying?”

“Calling you a traitor… domestic terrorist.” The driver’s voice grew more serious. Oron didn’t really break focus until the term domestic terrorist made him lower his head to the side.

“They should be the ones with that label.” He growled, turning up the heater. Looking back up again, the wanted man wanted to change the subject. “So tell me about Detroit.”

“Oh mate, it ain’t nothin’ like Humpty Doo. There are gonna be a lot of things you gotta get used to. There are a lot of gang problems, drug issues… no one really gives a shit about ya. But the tech they have here… it’s amazing.” “I’ve heard.” Oron sighed. “Guess I gotta adapt quickly in order to blend in.” There was a pause. “Know anyone that could change my appearance?” “Oh I know a good doc that can fit you in with the high quality stuff.”  There was silence. The car had entered the downtown area.

“Welcome to Detroit Oron.”

[fabricated-misslieness]

Can you do a headcanon or scenario for reaper,mccree,genji,soldier where their s/o shows them that there is some fanfiction and headcanons about them?

Genji, McCree, Reaper, and Soldier: 76 x gender neutral reader 

What’s up with all this 4th wall breaking shit

Requested: Yes

Warnings: Swearing

Gabriel Reyes

The man already has trust issues, so the minute he sees a ‘photo�� of himself, he’s skeptical. He’s not as much of a boomer as people paint him out to be, in fact, he’s not even gen z, so the first thing he does is check the publish date.

He’s silent, but he’s freaking out in his head. 

The date is recent. He wouldn’t have pardoned it completely if it were from around the time when he was the Overwatch Strike Commander, but compared to something recent? Talon isn’t one for going public, neither is Blackwatch, so how the hell would people get their hands on a photo of him?

He assumes the post is something either exposing him, news about something he did, a wanted poster, or some rando somewhere that somehow got a picture of him and was asking who he was.

He’s so consumed in creating plausible reasons as to why there’s a picture of him, that he almost forgets to read the title. Almost.

“ ‘Reaper x gender neutral reader’ ” He reads under his breath. He pauses for a second, contemplating. “What the fuck.”

He knows what this means, vaguely remembers it from when he was younger, 40 years ago. Damn that made him feel old, but this isn’t the focus right now.

First of all, how would somebody be attracted to him? No offense to his s/o, but who would fall in love with a masked man? If only you knew, Gabe.

Second, how-- what? The fuck? People shouldn’t even know of his existence, yet here this was.

“Gabe, you good?” He doesn’t look good, but you ask anyway.

“No.” His response is immediate. He’s not good, he’s not good at all. He’s not even going to read this thing, he’s going to go straight to Talon and find out who the fuck told anybody about his entire existence.

“It’s nothing.” You hold him back from standing up, reassure him with one of your caring smiles. But this time, it doesn’t work.

He’s uneasy, creeped out, and a little angry. Imagine how hard it would be as a Talon executive if everybody knew who he was.

Talon and publicity don’t mix.

“Honey, not everybody knows about you.” Your attempts to reassure him are futile.

Anyway, this results in even more trust issues and some dead Talon workers.

 

Genji Shimada

“Genji.” You called, patting the spot next to you. The fact that your smile was a little eager and you looked excited made him a bit hesitant. What did you have for him today?

The last time you were this excited, you had something weird to show him.

“Look.” You held out your phone in front of him.

The first thing he saw was a picture of himself. It was a little creepy because of how much detail it had, but he brushed it off, seeing as during his last few years of the organization were Overwatch years. If he were still in Blackwatch he would definitely be creeped out.

The second thing he saw was the title, ‘Genji x gender neutral reader’ “What does that mean?” He asked.

“It’s fanfiction.” You replied.

“Fanfiction? What’s-- Oh.” He vaguely remembers what fanfiction is from his younger years. He wasn’t particularly one for reading them, even with his crushes on some fiction characters, but one of his best friends did.

Then it dawned on him. “Wait, Genji x… Oh. Oh! What the fu--”

He nearly yeets your phone away from himself. If you weren’t there to stop him, he would’ve yeeted it. 

He’s confused to all hell. “WHO ARE THESE PEOPLE?! HOW DO THEY KNOW WHO I AM?! WHY ARE THEY ATTRACTED TO A CYBORG?!”

That’s… quite the insult to you, seeing as you’re dating him…

Anyway, you literally have no idea either, but hey, his reaction was fun. Genji wondered what they would do if they knew you two were dating. Then he remembered, ships are a thing and we’re a literal ship come true. All the explicit, r-rated, angst, fluff, crack that would be written--

He looks like he’s having an existential crisis.

To lighten the situation, you decide to let him read it. Even though that was the cause of all these problems, why did you suggest this--?

He’s so silent throughout the whole thing that you might even think he’s overheated if he didn’t have his mask off.

When he’s done, he looks up and around the room. Unbeknownst to you, he’s trying to find the ‘cameras’ that are surely in here somewhere. How else would they know about him?

Once he accepts that there are no cameras, and in fact, there is no way that anybody could be this accurate, yet they are, he gives up.

“How are they so accurate?” He sighs, sinking into the couch.

“Let’s not think about that.” You try to reassure him, you try to pull the phone away from him but he holds on tight.

He narrows his eyes at you, “How many are there?”

36, counted them myself. 36?! 

“A lot.” Your reply was vague… judging by your look, it was on purpose.

“(y/n), what the fuck.”

To sum it up, existential crisis.

 

Jack Morrison

“What’s this?”

He’s not startled by the picture of him, since he was the commander of Overwatch, they even made a statue of him. But then he realizes this isn’t any old picture of him, this is a picture of him in the present, with his old grey and visor instead of the usual blonde and young look.

He has to hold himself back from cursing up a storm. As much as he wants to, it wouldn’t help the situation.

He moves from the picture to the title, hoping that it’s either just a coincidence, somehow, or some picture of him from street cameras, even if it was in good quality.

“Soldier: 76 x gender neutral reader.” He reads to himself. “What?”

“It’s fanfiction.”

“What’s that?” Oh, he is such an old man. Even though Reaper is older than him, he knows.

You have to explain it all to him. The definition of the word ‘fanfiction’ itself weirds him out, but to learn that it’s both fanfiction and self-shipping of him himself and the reader?

“How do they know who I am?”

“I don’t know, dear.” You reply. This was not a good idea.

He moves on curiously to reading the contents of said fanfiction. The way he talks, the way they describe how much of a private man he is, it feels like they’ve written him just like he is.

It’s eary, and it creeps him out to hell to the point of sending a shiver down his spine.

“Did you make this?” He asks. He knows you wouldn’t do something like this, but he’s only hoping that you made this only to keep himself sane.

“No.”

Without the protection of hope, his mind wanders all places. This isn’t a coincidence. What is this? Who made this? Do I have to smother the source?

Panic settles in.

This is your fault now, you have to make sure he either forgets this or that the author means no harm.

Panik Boy

 

Jesse McCree

“D-Darling, what is this?” He lets out a nervous laugh at the sight of himself. How the hell did they make it look just like him? Maybe it was a thank you gift, like a painting of gratitude for his vigilante work, that ought to explain it, right?

Then he read the title, ‘Jesse McCree x gender neutral reader’. “What does this mean?”

“It’s a ship,” He nods and hums, he knows what ships are. His cousin had plenty of them from one of their Thursday afternoon cartoons when they were younger. “Of the reader, the one reading the story--”

“It’s a story?” Jesse interrupts, his brow is raised and he looks thoroughly confused.

“Yes, it’s a story,” You continue, stating your sentences like a teacher would a toddler. “The reader, being shipped with you.”

“W-With me?” The fact that he’s stuttering should be giveaway enough for you to tell he’s conflicted. “Wha-- How would that work?”

You explained again, this time slower and with more detail, hoping he’d understand.

He did this time, but of course you’d have questions to answer.

Why did you think this was a good idea?

“Well how do they know about me? I haven’t done any interviews or nothin’.”

God you wish you knew. Maybe if you did it’d be funnier. “No idea, babe.”

He had many questions but he didn’t want to bother you with them, since you probably didn’t know the answers based on that question. So instead, he focused on the fan fiction itself.

The way they described what he said, it was just like how he talked. They nailed the accent. They knew all his habits, his personality… how the hell did they know?

He puts the phone away and reassures you he’s fine, but you’re sure he’s not fine.

He has trust issues after this, he can’t help but think for at least 5 seconds about anybody around him and their ulterior motives.

[basura2319]

Nervous wreck

Pairing: wrecker x fem!reader

Requested by: anonymous

Anonymous: 

“Can we get a Wrecker x reader one shot where wrecker really likes the reader and wants to be with her, but he thinks that she won’t like him because he is too big and rough? But it turns out that the reader loves wrecker since the day she met him? I would like this to be extra fluffy”

Warnings: none

WC: 2k

A/N: A huge thanks to @chaotic-noceur for beta-reading my fic and for coming up with this funny yet brilliant title.

“Wrecker? Wrecker!"

Wrecker felt Crosshair smack him on the back of his head.

“Wha-what?” he said startled, rubbing the area where his brother hit him.

Crosshair's eyes trailed to whatever was putting Wrecker in such a stupor and of course, it was you, the teams' Republic "supervisor." You reported to the Republic missions you tagged along with the Bad Batch, and you briefed them on missions the Republic ordered for you all to carry out.

“Quit gawking at (Y/N) and help me put these supplies back onto the ship,” he griped, lifting the crate of this month's supply of rations, medical equipment, and restock of weapons.

Wrecker blushed. “I wasn’t starin’ at her…”

“Sure you weren’t,” Crosshair taunted, before going up the ramp. Soon Wrecker followed him while carrying two crates.

Wrecker went back outside the ship and his eyes landed on you once more. You were carrying—more like struggling, to take the last remaining boxes.

“Let me help you with that.” He reached out to take one of the crates from your arms.

You smiled warmly at him, punching his arm lightly. “Show off.”

Wrecker tilted his head slightly away from you to hide the creeping blush on his face.

“Thank you as always,” you said kindly, following him on board. Wrecker’s blush grew even more at that.

After getting all the supplies gathered, they took off with no real direction to head to.

“So,” Hunter turned the pilot’s chair towards you. “Anything assigned to us?”

You shook your head. “No, I’ve received nothing as of now.”

“Great,” smirked Hunter, leaning back on the chair as tossing his knife. “More time for us.”

“Yeah…” you bit your lip in worry. “But don’t get too comfortable.”

“Tech, I’m starving,” drawled Crosshair from where he sat. “Go check what’s in the crates.”

“Why don’t you go get it,” Tech said without looking up from what was doing.

Crosshair flicked the toothpick he plucked from his mouth at his brother. “You’re closer,” he said smugly.

Wrecker caught you chuckling at their banter and the sound of your laughter caused his stomach to stir.

Tech shot him a slightly annoyed look before abandoning the piece of hardware he was working on. He opened the crate to look at the contents inside, but his expression showed disappointment and you all knew why as he pulled out a pack of plain, army-issued rations packs.

“Here,” Tech tossed the pack at him.

Crosshair groaned. “I’m tired of this. Is there seriously nothin’ else?”

“Let’s see, uh, we have dried meat, protein bars, Jogan fruit—”

“Gimme one of those.”

“Skrag,” you lamented at watching the morsels the Republic brought you all to consume. “I wish we could’ve stopped somewhere to eat real food.”

Wrecker, you hadn’t noticed, extended his hand to give you one of the packs along with a protein bar.

“Uh here,” he said awkwardly. His skin prickled when your fingers brushed over his momentarily.

“Thank you Wrecker,” you said with a small smile.

He felt himself smile, up until he saw his brothers staring at him with knowing looks on their faces. He frowned, grunting lowly at them.

The three of his brothers had watched him fall for you from the moment you joined the team. What they never understood was why he never attempted to make a move on you. You seemed to like him, like being around his presence. He’s the one who got you to laugh the most and the one you frequented to when you wanted to spar. Yet Wrecker knew himself. He knew he was rough, not a person people liked making conversation with. His height and bulkiness intimidated people which in turn, all those qualities made him self conscious, but he was good at appearing like those things never bothered him. His flaws convinced himself that he had no chance of being with a pretty, kind-hearted, yet fierce person like you.

It was nearing the time for all of you to rest although traveling in space made it hard to tell when it was day or night. One person, as always, had to stay up to watch and navigate the ship, but today was Hunter’s turn to do it. Just before Wrecker could go join his brothers in their bunks, Hunter stopped him.

“Listen, Wrecker,” he said to him in a low tone. “You gotta tell her how you feel. There’s no point in agonizing over it.”

Wrecker looked away. “She’s just a friend Sarge. Our teammate,” he muttered angrily.

Hunter raised a brow at him. “Well, when the war ends and she has to depart from the team without you telling her, don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He thumped Wrecker on the back before heading towards the cockpit.

As Wrecker laid there on his bunk, listening to the snores of Crosshair and Tech, his mind drifted to Hunter’s words. What would happen when you’d eventually leave the team?

You’d probably find and end up with someone that’s not him; someone better than him. All because he was too scared to confess how you made him feel. However, the thought of watching you with another person filled him to brim with dread. Could he stand by and let that happen?

In his heart, no, he couldn’t let it happen.

*

“I hope you don’t plan on giving those to her,” Tech said while still fixated on his computer terminal, sitting on a rock.

“What? Why?” Wrecker said with an outraged tone, almost reaching for some bright red flowers on Kattada; a forest planet they landed on as a resting spot for the day.

“Unless you want (Y/N) to develop a rash, then I suggest you don’t,” he stated matter of factly. “The Iblorn’s sap creates a deadly rash to whoever comes in contact with i—”

Wrecker cut him off with a frustrated groan. He spotted purple flowers bunched up at the base of a tree. “How ‘bout these?” He picked them up and gave a sniff only to receive an onslaught of loud and rambunctious sneezing.

“Yeah, no,” Tech said before typing something rapidly onto his computer. “Try the Tumellas. According to this database, they appear to be harmless.”

Picking flowers for you shouldn't be so hard, thought Wrecker, and he had Tech, the smartest person he knew, to help him.

“Where do I find those?” he said looking at Tech expectedly.

Tech hummed in thought, reading through what he had on his screen. “You should be able to find them near a stream? Just find a yellow-orange flower with petals in a crown formation.”

Wrecker beamed, trying to contain both his excitement and nervousness. “Thanks, Tech.”

So with Tech’s description, he ventured into the forest to find a stream, which turned out to be not so difficult to find. He could hear the rush of water from a distance as he brushed passed bushes.

Okay, a yellow-orange flower with a crown petal arrangement. His eyes scanned over the bushes, but he found none. Wrecker found it difficult to even focus without his insecurities blaring into his head to stop whatever he was about to do. You would never like him the way he liked you. Yet despite his doubts, a small voice within the back of his mind was pushing him to try.

His eyes soon caught on the flower he ventured all this way for. The Tumella, as Tech said, was beautiful and so vibrant; hard to miss, like you, thought Wrecker. He plucked the stem of the flower to examine it closer. It wasn’t particularly small, but as it sat on the palm of his hand it was. Its center had a tawny brown bud and the smell—he took a sniff at the flower and grinned. Yeah, he was definitely bringing you these.

He crouched over to grab some more so he could arrange them into a bouquet of some sort. When he decided he had enough, Wrecker moseyed on back to the path he took to get back to you.

Soon, anxiety pooled into his stomach. His palms, which were carrying the flowers, were sweating in unease. He was scared, he realized the closer he got to the ship.

No, no he shouldn’t do this, what was he thinking?

Too distracted by his own thoughts, he didn’t hear you approach him.

“There you are,” your voice rang with enthusiasm.

Wrecker stopped in his tracks, assessing you with wide eyes, and without thinking, he quickly stuck the flowers behind him in panic.

Obviously, he wasn’t fast enough judging by your creased forehead, and your gaze centered on the arm he had behind his back.

“What are those?”

“Uhm,” He looked to the floor. “Nothing.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh come now, let me see! Did you find some kind of critter by any chance?”

He backed away from you slowly. “Um.” He didn’t know what to respond with. “Yes!”

“Oooh,” you craned your neck to try to see what it was. “Can I see it?”

“N-no,” he stammered.

“Oh come on!”

You gripped his arm to pull. “Show me!”

Knowing you weren’t going to stop any time soon, he cautiously presented to you the flowers.

You blinked in confusion a couple of times before talking.

“I wasn’t expecting that,” you replied with a small chuckle. You brushed your fingertips lightly over the petals in awe. “These are beautiful, where'd you find them?”

At this point, Wrecker’s face was as red as the markings on his armor.

“Uh, near the stream,” he managed to say through the lump lodged in his throat.

“So you collect plants now,” you said teasingly. “Didn’t take you for the type.”

He swallowed thickly. “Actually…these are for you.”

You froze and your mouth formed an ‘o’ shape at his words. Then your mouth lifted into a bright smile.

“Aww Wrecker,” you took them from his noticeable shaky hands. “Thank you, you’re so sweet! These are beautiful!” You sniffed them. “They smell wonderful too.”

Wrecker was fidgeting, seeing the happiness radiating from receiving his gift and it made it harder for him to say what he needed to say because he didn’t want to ruin this moment.

Your brows furrowed in worry at the clear and uncomfortable face he made. “Hey, you okay?”

His dark eyes snapped towards yours at the question.

“Yes, it’s just…” he wavered, bringing a hand behind his neck to rub at the skin. “I’m not good at this…”

Your gaze lingered at him in confusion. “Good at what?”

“I like you.”

The words spilled out of his mouth like a deluge.

“Well, I should hope so Wrecker,” you said with an arm propped on your hip. “We spend so much time with each other.”

Kriff.

“No… I like you,” he enunciated again, but this time slowly.

Your breath hitched and you both stood there, for what it seemed like forever in awkward silence.

The silence stretched on until you began to break into fits of laughter.

That was not the reaction Wrecker wanted and his heart felt like it was about to shatter.

Seeing the obvious hurt in his face, your laughter stopped and you launched yourself at him in a hug.

Startled at your abruptness, he wrapped his arms around you tightly, not fully grasping that this was real. You were hugging him right now.

“I didn’t mean to laugh,” you said wholeheartedly while pulling slightly away from his chest to look him in the eye. “I’m astonished is all because well… I like you too. Always have since the first time we met.”

Wrecker’s mind faltered at your confession. “Really?” He said, cupping his callous hand to your face in a gentle manner. “I-I thought you wouldn’t ‘cause I’m a giant, and-and act rough and people don’t like—”

You clamped a hand over his mouth to stop his rambling.

“I like you for you, Wrecker,” you said, looking at him with sincerity. “Your size and what makes you a fierce person will not, nor will it ever, turn me away from you, okay?”

You screeched when he lifted you over his shoulder and giggled at the boisterous shout of joy he gave.

Permanent Taglist: (lmk if you want to be added or removed) @chaotic-noceur @kaminobiwan

[sad-sweet-cowboah]

My Little Secret part 12

Summary: With your finals behind you, Arthur says it’s time to meet the others. Before you do however, you get to meet someone from Arthur’s past...

Warnings: None this time, just some fluff.

Finals week arrived before you knew it. As much as you longed for summer vacation, you wished time moved slower. You studied every night, keeping yourself to your apartment and avoiding any distractions. You even postponed your dates with Arthur, reserving moments with him on breaks from work or just texting. Even with all the preparation in the world, finals were still as nerve wracking as they were back in high school.

Regardless you paced yourself and pushed through each and every one with focus and determination. The material was just as complex as it was at the beginning of the semester, and to walk out of the classrooms for that final time was such a relief off your shoulders.

Friday evening you were relaxing at home, enjoying a restful night after stressing for the past month. Sam invited you to come out for drinks with her, but you declined, not wanting to celebrate prematurely. Changing from your day clothes into a tank top and shorts, you settled onto the couch to watch TV.

Roughly an hour after sunset, your doorbell rang. While you weren’t expecting anyone, you had a feeling you already knew who it was. You strode across the living room, opening your door to be greeted by the sight of Arthur himself.

“Well, isn’t this a lovely surprise.” You said to him with a smile, stepping forward to wrap your arms around his neck.

He matched your smile and held your waist one-handed, greeting you with a sweet kiss. “Thought a congratulations in person sounded better than in a text.” he replied.

You released him, your eyes flicking to his other hand. He was holding a plastic bag with what looked like a container inside. A delicious smell hit your nose next, and you shifted your eyes back to him. “I only finished the finals, I don’t know if I passed them yet.” You reminded him.

“Knowin’ you, ya probably passed with flyin’ colors,” Arthur said. “’Sides, I needed an excuse to bring ya this.” He lifted the bag into your field of view.

“You could be here with nothing and I’d still be happy,” you giggled, and gestured for him to come in. “But I won’t turn down good food.”

He chuckled and stepped into your apartment. He set the bag on a table and upon inspection you found he brought you a quesadilla from the little restaurant you had your first date at. Oh the irony in that. You thanked him and settled back on the couch with him next to you and a heaping helping of the delightful dish. His arm wrapped around you and you snuggled into him, despite his cool temperature you were very comfortable in his embrace.

It remained quiet in between the two of you while you ate and watched a random TV movie . Once you were full and content, Arthur broke the silence.

“Don’t wanna ruin the good mood here, but I did wanna discuss somethin’ with ya.”

You were relaxing against him, and you moved your head to rest your chin on his chest to peer up at him. “What is it?”

“Wanted to wait a lil’ bit after your exams, but they’ve been impatient,” he sighed. “They wanna meet ya tomorrow.”

They. You know exactly who he was talking about. The other vampires that Arthur was employed by. He only mentioned it once or twice since the initial reveal, and you hadn’t expected to hear this news. Your heart immediately raced with anxiety, although you kept your face even. “Tomorrow?” you repeated. “Why?”

“Their rules,” he grumbled. “I tried to argue with ‘em, ‘least give ya a couple more days, but they won’t have it.”

You frowned at this, bringing your prior concerns to the forefront. “They’re…pushy…”

“Yeah, ‘m sorry,” he gave you an apologetic look. “I promise they ain’t as intimidatin’ as they sound.”

“I’m about to be introduced to a bunch of vampires when I’ve only had experience with two, and one tried to kill me.” You stated flatly.

Arthur winced at your reminder. “I know, but the reason why they exist is to prevent stuff like that from happenin’ on a daily basis. It’s why only some humans know of our existence, but they wanna keep tabs on those who do know.”

“Keep tabs?” you repeated. “Like…stalking?”

He shook his head immediately, frowning with realization as to how that sounded. “No, ain’t like that at all. It’s jus’ a way to make sure our secret don’t get passed along. They won’t hurt ya or nothin’.”

Despite Arthur’s assurance, you still felt a bubble of anxiety balloon in your stomach. After all, you were to face what you once thought was movie monsters. Strong beings that could and would have you for lunch in a heartbeat. You took a deep breath and said, “Promise?”

Arthur reached for your hand and held it, meeting your gaze with a smile. “I promise.”

You studied his face, noting the sincerity in his eyes. Hell, how could you not trust his sweet smile? It was enough to quell the roiling worry in the pit of your gut, at least for now. You scooted even closer, pulling yourself halfway into his lap and laid your lips softly against his. He responded almost instantly, his arms shifting to hold you better. It was a sweet and peaceful kiss, lasting for a short moment before he pulled away to lean back against the couch. His hands found yours and intertwined your fingers together. Bringing one up to his face, he placed a small peck on the inside of your wrist. It lurched your heart involuntarily, partly from excitement and partly from fear knowing what he was.

“I can hear your heart racin’.” he murmured.

You giggled in an attempt to calm yourself again. “It’s what you do to me.”

“Do I scare you?” He quietly asked.

“Sometimes,” you answered truthfully. “But that’s what makes it exciting.”

He gave a dejected snort, his expression turning solemn. “I know you’re nervous about this. You don’t have to be with me if it bothers ya that much.”

Confusion settled in. Your brow furrowed, staring at him with bewilderment. “Isn’t the entire point of this meeting to make sure I’m trustworthy?” You pointed out. “Think I have to commit.”

“You don’t have to do anything,” he responded. “I wish our relationship could be simple, but it ain’t. I don’t wanna push you into this if you don’t wanna be with me.”

“Arthur,” you spoke, pulling your hands from his to wrap your arms around his neck. “I want to be with you, therefore I have to do this. And you’re right, I’m nervous. Almost scared to death, but it’s like…meeting your significant other’s parents, don’t you think? Especially since one of them is your Maker.”

Arthur’s serious face broke as he snickered at your comparison. With a light shake of his head he replied with, “That’s one way to describe it.”

It was really your own effort into talking yourself down from being a trainwreck of anxiety come tomorrow night. However, your words seemed to shift Arthur’s perspective a little as well. His eyes seemed brighter, and the look of doubting seemed to disappear from his handsome face. You pulled yourself completely onto his lap to straddle him, and held his face between your hands.

“I’m determined to keep my vampire boyfriend,” You said sincerely, though you couldn’t keep your lip twitching in amusement from your own words. “So don’t try to scare me away.”

His own lips cracked into a content smile. “Then I won’t.”

---

Saturday arrived and passed too quickly for your liking.

Even when you tried to tell yourself not to overthink it, the majority of the day was spent with your mind buzzing. Arthur said the worst case scenario was that you’d be glamored to forget their existence entirely – but that also meant forgetting him. As much as you tried to push that intruding thought away, the thought of having your memory erased and continuing life without Arthur seemed daunting.

He mentioned he’d pick you up by 10, and wasn’t specific on where you were going. You spent the next few hours fretting over how you should present yourself. What outfit to wear, to be confident or quiet?

You decided on a casual outfit. You rehearsed in your head how to introduce yourself, how your tone will sound to them. How capable are they to hold a conversation with a regular human?

You stopped yourself then. Arthur still had many human qualities. You had to believe they were the same and not like that…what was it? Fledgling you encountered that one night.

By 10 pm on the dot, your phone chimed with his message of arrival. You left your apartment and found him waiting on the curb with his motorcycle parked. He greeted you with an embrace and kiss on the lips. Upon pulling back he stared into your eyes, his own glistening with the yellow light of the building.

“Last chance to turn back.” He said lowly.

You steeled your own gaze and took a deep breath. “Not gonna happen.” You answered confidently, despite the raging storm of nerves in your stomach and chest.

Arthur nodded once, half-smiling at your determination. “Alright.” He replied, handing you your helmet.

With a moment of adjusting and climbing onto the bike, you wrapped your arms around him and got comfortable. As he started the engine, a question appeared in your mind. “Where are we going exactly?” you asked, nearly shouting over the roar.

“Saint Denis, sorry,” he answered, apologizing knowing how you felt about it. “Believe me I ain’t fond of the location either.”

“Of course…” you grumbled, sighing heavily and resting your head on his back.

“This’ll be a safe trip, I promise.” He added, revving the engine before pulling into the street. You had completely trusted him on that, knowing nothing would happen in his presence. Still, you would be meeting vampires older than him.

You took a deep breath, mentally shoving aside a small rise of anxiety to enjoy the ride.

---

Besides the growl of the engine, most of the ride there was quiet.

Up ahead you could see the hazy golden skyline of Saint Denis, bright like a blotch of paint against a dark canvas. Arthur headed further south than you were used to, opting to head into the more industrial part of the city. Old factories turned into nightclubs and breweries lined the docks. It was a lively section of Saint Denis for sure, although one you tended to avoid due to the shady regulars and heavy amount of drugs that passed through unnoticed.

After a few minutes of rolling down the busy streets, Arthur turned his bike from the main street into a dimly lit alley. The towering closeness of the walls surrounded the both of you, and you involuntarily squeezed his midsection, remembering the night with the fledgling.

“It’s alright,” he said to you. “Nothin’s gonna happen.”

You breathed and nodded once, turning your attention to the sights around you. The alley opened up to a large, factory-like building. Even over the rumble of the motorcycle, you could hear the beats of heavy bass. The nearly opaque windows had hints of brightly colored lights flashing from within. The gray walls were adorned with graffiti, and a hint of aged paint as a small reminder of its original intention.

There were a couple of people dressed in club outfits waiting outside a large door, a burly bouncer checking their IDs before sending them in one at a time. Arthur pulled into a spot off to the side. He killed the engine and waited for you to stand.

You did so albeit hesitantly, taking the helmet off. “Er…are we in the right place?” you asked with confusion.

Arthur turned and smiled at you, gesturing for you to follow him. You did, keeping close as he sauntered up to the bouncer, not even acknowledging the small line. The two men made eye contact, and then the bouncer’s beady eyes turned to you. You froze under his hard gaze, averting your own eyes. You heard Arthur murmur something and you looked up, watching as the bouncer stepped aside and opened the door, gesturing both of you in. Arthur nodded and stepped in, and you followed suit.

As soon as you passed the threshold, you were enveloped with a fast beat of loud dubstep. Your nose was greeted with the scent of metal and sweat, and the concrete floor was lit up with a myriad of party lights. People were dancing around you, most of the women in skin-tight dresses and jumpsuits. You were used to seeing such clothes, but you suddenly felt out of place in your sweater, jeans and sneakers.

A large, neon-lit bar off to the side caught your attention, as well as meeting the eye of one of the patrons. She smiled at you politely, and her elongated canines gleamed in the bright green glow. You blinked and jumped slightly in surprise.

A cool hand appeared at your side. Arthur drew you in close to his side. You quickly looked up at him and he silently gestured for you to keep walking forward. You walked in step with him, keeping your eyes forward and away from anyone in particular. He seemed to be leading you to the other side of the colossal room.

You’d managed to flow through the crowd without an issue, and Arthur stopped at another closed door. There was a small glass window upon it, dark on the other side. He knocked on it thrice and with a heavy, creaking sound, it opened to reveal a dimly lit stairwell.

He gestured you in and stepped in behind you, and the door swung shut. You peered up the stairwell with apprehension, feeling as if you were suddenly placed in a horror movie.

Hesitation overcame you, and you turned to look at him. “I always pictured vampire lairs to be old, haunted mansions.” You joked to try and calm yourself down.

Arthur smiled in amusement. “Runnin’ a nightclub keeps us inconspicuous,” he explained. “Easy for us to do what we need to do without drawin’ unwanted attention.”

Huh, you guessed that made sense. It wasn’t something you expected to learn, then again you weren’t sure what to expect entirely from tonight at all. What was next? “Never expected you as that type of person.”

Chuckling and shaking his head, he replied with, “Weren’t my idea, ain’t too fond of it either,” he stepped closer to you, pressing his hand gently against the small of your back. “C’mon, we shouldn’t keep ‘em waitin’.”

With a short nod and a deep breath, you began to walk forward. You took the steps with slight hesitation, Arthur’s hand never leaving you as a silent and gentle offer of comfort. You eventually reached the top of the staircase to face a short hallway with a few doors on each side, and one at the very end. Your feet echoed across the floor eerily and you stopped, looking back at Arthur for further instruction.

Before either of you could do anything, one of the doors creaked and thudded. Your attention fixated on that, your heart suddenly leaping to your throat to see the door closest to you was the one opening. Out stepped a man with long, raven-colored hair. A thick stature similar to Arthur’s, dressed in a simple T-shirt and jeans with light colors, a large contrast from his cacao skin. His dark eyes darted to Arthur, and a smile crossed his face.

“Evenin’, Charles.” You heard Arthur say in a chipper tone as he took your side.

“Hello Arthur,” the man greeted before pulling Arthur into a hug. You watched as they embraced one another in an almost intimate fashion, lasting a little longer than just a brief second. As they broke from one another, Charles’ eyes settled to you. “You must be Y/N.”

Caught off guard and blinking, you smiled awkwardly. “Y-yes, I am.” You confirmed. Taking a better look at him, he seemed almost familiar to you.

You watched as a warm smile crossed Charles’ lips, and he stuck his hand out to you. When you took it, you were almost surprised to find it cold. “Arthur’s told me a lot about you. It’s great to finally meet you.”

You glanced at Arthur, who was smiling as well. “Charles n’ I go way back. Been there for me more times than I can count.”

Between Charles’ friendly demeanor and Arthur’s reaction, you assumed you were in the company of a friend. The tension you held released just a bit. Charles released your hand and looked at Arthur again.

“They’re discussing some important matters at the moment, but I can announce your arrival.” He spoke.

Arthur shook his head. “That’s alright, I’ll go on in. Might as well talk to ‘em beforehand,” he moved past you and Charles before turning around to look at the both of you. “Sweetheart, you can stay with him for a bit. I’ll come back when they’re ready to meet ya.”

You glanced at Charles, and back at Arthur. “Wait – ”

“Won’t be too long,” Arthur assured you. “N’ Charles is good company.”

You couldn’t really come up with anything else to say than to utter an “okay” to him. Arthur gave you a small smile and spun on his heel to face the length of the hallway again. He strode toward the furthest door, opening it and disappearing in a flash.

It was quiet now, and you turned your attention to Charles. He gestured to the open door beside you, and you walked in. It was a fairly small room reminiscent of a break room at a workplace. A small table sat in the center. A couple of couches and chairs lined the wall, as well as a few countertops and a refrigerator. Charles walked to the table and pulled a chair out for you.

Smiling politely at him, you took a seat. As you got comfortable, he turned to retrieve something from the fridge. He swiveled back to face you, producing a bottle of water.

“Don’t worry, it’s not poison.” Charles chuckled when you hesitated.

That was the furthest thing to cross your mind. Instead you were surprised by the hospitality of this man…vampire you just met. Then again if he was good friends with Arthur, you couldn’t be caught completely off-guard. You took the bottle and thanked him before sipping it. You hadn’t realized how thirsty you were.

“What do you think of this place?” he asked as you recapped the bottle.

You placed the bottle down and looked at him. “Never expected a vampire lair to be a nightclub,” you admitted. “But Arthur explained the reason. Do humans and vampires just mingle here?”

“For the most part. We’re good at hiding our identities, but if they see our fangs, they’re usually drunk or high enough to think they’re accessories.”

You snorted at that. Hell, if you were that buzzed you’d probably think the same. It seemed so odd to you that they were so open about something that they were attempting to keep guarded. You however knew how easily swayed young, influenced minds could be. The image of the girl who flashed her fangs at you formed in your head. “Is this your type of scene?” You inquired.

“Not at all,” he leaned back and folded his arms. “I prefer the quiet mostly.”

“So what are you doing here? If that’s not too pressing.” You asked.

“Business,” he shrugged. “Most discussions happen here.”

You nodded in understanding. “Do, uh, other humans end up in my position often?”

Charles smiled slightly. “More often than you’d think. It may be under the radar, but vampire and human relationships are becoming quite common recently.”

Your eyebrows raised at this. “Really?” When Charles nodded, you continued, “I suppose I shouldn’t be so surprised…the way this place is,” you took a deep breath and drank again. “Guess that makes me feel a little better.”

“Are you nervous?” he asked quietly.

“I’m a ball of anxiety,” you admitted, wincing as the cold water settled uncomfortably in your churning stomach. “I’ve only had one other interaction with a vampire besides Arthur, and I nearly lost my life.”

Charles nodded in understanding. “That would frighten anyone. Fledglings can be dangerous if not taught properly. Arthur told me what happened that night, you were very lucky he found you in time.”

A slight shiver shot up your spine at the memory. The fear that gripped your heart. The fight that ensued. The explosion of blood and guts painting the alleyway. You were lucky, stupidly lucky. “Guess that’s what I get for playing Good Samaritan for a random drunk.”

“That’s not your fault in the slightest. Most people are more selfish than not,” Charles pointed out. “That hasn’t changed in the last century at all.”

His latter statement caught your attention. “Are you as old as Arthur?” you asked curiously, observing his features closer. Beneath his dark skin held signs of age. Why did he look so familiar?

“Not quite,” he answered, meeting your gaze. “Arthur and I knew each other before. And I suspect you know why.”

Your brow furrowed and you tilted your head. Arthur was an outlaw and part of a large group. Those faces in the faded photos…you racked your brain to comb through each and every one of them until one stood out. “Wait, you were in the gang with him, right?”

Charles nodded and smiled. “Arthur did tell me you were interested in history, especially about his. I was a part of Dutch’s Boys, and Arthur was one of the few I truly trusted. When everything began to fall apart, he and I stuck through along with a few others.”

“It must’ve been a rough time,” you commented. “Arthur told me he was sick back then, were you one of the people he helped toward the end?”

“We helped each other,” Charles answered solemnly. “I wasn’t sure what was going to happen those last few days. So much betrayal and bloodshed. I hadn’t witnessed the very end because I was helping a displaced tribe find a new home…” he sighed. “He went off to help the others. Caught wind of his final battle. I went searching for him, and couldn’t even find a body. I placed a memorial for him up in the mountains, hoping one day I’d truly find out what became of him.”

Your heart sank as Charles told the story. Learning it from the perspective of not one but two people who lived through such traumatic events really pulled at your emotions.

“Almost thirty years passed without an answer,” he continued. “I lived my life, watched as the world changed. And then I fell ill. My condition was far too advanced for any doctor or medicine man to treat. When I became terminal, Arthur showed up at my doorstep, looking the same as he did all those years ago. I couldn’t believe it.”

You raised your eyebrows at this. “So…did he Turn you?”

“No. He asked our Maker, Lucia, to Turn me. He could have just healed me, but he didn’t. He said I was too good of a man to let the world lose,” Charles chuckled. “Immortality was never a forethought. Arthur assured me, explained how his life changed since he Turned, and so I agreed.”

“That must’ve been such an adjustment for you, especially after years of thinking he was dead,” you said thoughtfully. “I couldn’t even imagine…”

“An adjustment is an understatement,” Charles agreed. “We were together again after so long. Lucia gave me a chance we both missed out on all those years ago…” he turned his head upward, and you noticed a haze clouding his eyes. “Decades together…”

The emotion touched in his voice, the way he spoke…you got the feeling this was more than just a rekindled friendship. Would it be too pressing to ask? “Were you…involved with him?” you quietly asked.

Charles’ attention turned back to you. “Yes, I was. We had some wonderful years together, but we’ve been apart for some time now.”

“I’m so sorry.” You automatically said, unsure how to respond to that. Was he jealous?

He shook his head. “Don’t be. As you can see, we’re still very close. And I know he’s happy with you. He’s a troubled man, and you sparked something in him.”

You hadn’t expected to hear that. You smiled a little shyly. “Guess I’m glad to be that spark then.”

The two of you conversed for another few minutes. You learned a little more about Charles’ background and what he and Arthur did. They traveled the world and enjoyed places they otherwise wouldn’t have the chance to have gone while alive. Charles also is a huge advocate for both African American and Native American rights, often attending rallies and protests at night to march. You’d never expect a vampire to be still into human affairs and politics, however it seemed you were learning something new every day now.

Speaking with him did allow some further ease of your anxiety. Like Arthur, he assured you the others weren’t as intimidating as they seemed. It seemed more like you were prepping for a job interview from the way he described it after he sat in for quite a few of them.

Not that a job interview was even less nerve-wracking. Mentally, you were envisioning yourself sitting across from a smartly-dressed vampire going over a resume while you kept yourself with an upright posture, running commonly used questions and answers through your mind.

Another few moments passed by before the door opened. You turned to see Arthur step through, first peering over at Charles before meeting your gaze. He greeted you with a small smile. “They’re ready for ya, sweetheart.”

A lump formed in your throat. Taking the last swing of your water bottle, you stood up and nodded. “And I’m ready too.”

“Good luck, Y/N.” Charles said from behind you.

Turning your head to shoot a grateful smile at him, you strode forward and back out into the hallway again. Arthur slid out in front of you, taking your hand and leading you toward the furthest door.

Your echoing footsteps pounded in your ears with each step closer. The harsh lights shone brightly like a hospital corridor. Arthur stopped just before the door, and turned to you.

“I can’t accompany you inside.” he said.

Alarm coursed through you. “Why?”

“So they know I’m not influencing you in any way, standard procedure,” he answered, closing the small space between you to place his hands on your upper arms, and leaning in to place a kiss on your forehead. “But I ain’t worried, as long as you’re truthful.”

“Do I have any reason to lie?” you asked, your heart fluttering from his soothing touch.

He shook his head. “Not one bit. Like I said, I ain’t worried…” he stepped back to clear the path between you and the door. “N’ I’ll be out here waitin’.”

Your eyes lingered on his for a second longer, before you turned to face it. Taking a deep breath, you reached forward and grabbed the knob.

[rainbowpacifiers]

Twin Kingdoms (A3! Event story) - Chapter 5

Haruto is distracted during rehearsals. Tasuku worries. Yuki pays a visit. Azami is impressed by Tsumugi’s and Juza’s passion for acting. They spotted who practicing out in the cold?!?

Chapter 4 | Index | Chapter 6

Tasuku: Morning. Tsumugi: Good morning. You've got rehearsals today too, right? Tasuku: Yeah. From morning, all day long. Tsumugi: What's practice like? Tasuku: Once again, a stimulating environment. Tasuku: The way they're unified, including those working behind the scenes, is the way it used to be, but Reni-san's influence or the atmosphere within the troupe have changed immensely. Tasuku: Discussions are livelier than in the past, and despite the nervousness towards Reni-san, everyone has come to relax and express their opinions. Tsumugi: The current top, Shift-kun, has an air of frankness too. He's a good kid with a relaxed manner, right? Tasuku: Yeah. I believe the top's personality had a certain influence too. Tasuku: (But Haruto is... Even though he's the lead this time, it feels like he's the only one not used to GOD Troupe's atmosphere.) Tsumugi: What about the lead, Haruto-kun? Tasuku: ...Sure enough, I think he's the one who understands GOD Troupe's plays better than anyone. Tasuku: Only Haruto can perfectly anticipate and grasp the points Reni-san might ask for. Tasuku: He has enough ability to play the lead.  Tsumugi: As you'd expect. Tasuku: (But maybe precisely because he understands Reni-san better than anyone else, he's also most upset about that change.) Tasuku: (It may be difficult for him to change because he's done his best just to embody Reni-san's ideals so far.) Tasuku: (It'd good if he doesn't find himself at an impasse...)

Reni: We will operate the projector video image here. Izumi: That's GOD Troupe for you. Your theatre has a variety of equipment. Reni: All sorts of things should be applicable at MANKAI Theatre too. Since it was selected rather carefully within the budget. Izumi: That's certainly helpful! Reni: This time, I was thinking of dividing the stage in two, into ice country and flame country. Izumi: I see. The ice country, pictured on top of a freezing mountain, and the flame country in the magma underground... Izumi: If it's well divided, it might be easier to visualise them. Reni: Heaven and earth, huh... Reni: An outlandish idea is similar to him. Izumi: Eh? You mean dad? Reni: Let's consider that direction for a moment. Izumi: Okay! Izumi: (I've never talked about directing with other people like this, so this is really illuminating.)

Yuki: Good work. Azami: Thank you. So you came. Yuki: They let me observe since I was already in the meeting for the costume plan. Azami: How was the meeting? Yuki: I proposed some high-cost fabric that would definitely get rejected if we were dealing with the money-grubbing yakuza, but it passed easily. Yuki: They said that it was common for GOD Troupe. I got excited for a moment, but you can just feel the gap, right? Azami: I got jealous when I saw the makeup staffs' tools too. Yuki: I want a bigger budget. Azami: That. Being poor is hard. Yuki: How is practice going? Azami: Hm, I'd heard lots of rumours about Reni-san, so I was considerably prepared, but he's not harsh and actually feels rather gentle. It was anticlimactic. Azami: Also, I've never been with Tasuku-san together for so long, so sometimes I feel disconcerted. Azami: Even during breaks, he's so into his role that he sometimes doesn't come back. Yuki: Yeah. That's the theatre idiot for you. What are the GOD Troupe members like? Azami: Seeing Shift performing all seriously in the practice room is really refreshing and fun. Totally different from his usual self. Yuki: Isn't he probably thinking the same? Azami: Maybe. The lead, Haruto-san's... Yuki: What? Azami: Nah, it's nothin'. Azami: (The way Haruto-san seems... it kind of reminds me of someone.)

Reni: Haruto, Cain's interpretation is shallow. That way, it appears as if he's just taking action while being swept away. Reni: Shift as well; you're still not quite conveying Lutz' feelings for Cain. Reni: Restructure the relationship between the two of them some more. Haruto: Yes. Shift: Okay. Reni: As for Tasuku and Izumida, the relation of master to servant has pretty much come to completion. Reni: I think it would be alright if you brought out more of the affable parts in one another, but that route is generally fine. Haruto: ...... Haruto: (That's right. When Tasuku was in GOD Troupe, he was always complimented, and I was the only one who got criticised...) Haruto: (Each time, I would commit everything I was told to memory and exerted myself to meet all of Reni-san's demands...) Reni: ...Haruto. Haruto? Shift: Haruto-san! Haruto: Ye, yes!? Reni: I was telling you to consult with Tasuku regarding your scene together in the 2nd act... Were you not listening? Haruto: ...I'm sorry! Haruto: (Me, doing something like failing to hear Reni-san's words--) Reni: Never mind. We will be taking a 20-minute break now. After that, we will begin with act 2. Haruto: ...Understood.

Haruto: ....Haah. Haruto: (Reni-san wasn't even mad.... Maybe that means he was completely disappointed.) Haruto: (Up until now, there were so many times where I got severely scolded... And each time, I'd practice like mad.) Haruto: (Without missing what the other troupe members were told, I'd do my best so that he wouldn't take notice of me for the same thing.) Haruto: (I don't have the physique that Tasuku was blessed with, nor the kind of focus where I'm so completely lost in my acting that I forget to sleep and eat.) Haruto: (Rather than getting into my role, I end up being more worried over how I am being seen.) Haruto: (Is my intonation alright? Or do I look like a person with the right quality for GOD Troupe? ... I have always overcome it with effort.) Haruto: (In the end, I have no choice but to do do everything in my power regardless of appearances.) Haruto: (It will work out. It's always been that way. From now on too--)

Haruto: --huh? Haruto: (It's unlocked?) Haruto: ......

Tasuku: "Tch, that pighead! His brains are fossilising with old age." Haruto: Tasuku... Tasuku: Oh, Haruto, are you here to practice on your own too? I wanted to do a bit more too, so I asked the staff to keep it open for me for a while longer. Haruto: Doesn't your troupe have their own practice room? Tasuku: But here, I can do it in the same area as the actual performance. That makes grasping the feeling easier. Haruto: Hmm. Tasuku: Since you're here, let's try that scene Reni-san wanted us to discuss today-- Haruto: I just came to get something I forgot. Tasuku: .....Come to think of it, this has happened before. Haruto: Is that right? Well, I'm leaving first. Tasuku: ......

Azami: Phew.... Azami: (I took a bath, so all that's left is sleep... ah, before I go to bed, maybe I should read the script and go over what I was told today.) Tsumugi: You don't have to put that in the fridge? Juza: 'cause I'm eatin' it right away. Tsumugi: Oh. Azami: ....Hey, show me what's in that grocery bag. Azami: It's all sweet stuff. Don't tell me you're thinking of eating this now? Tsumugi: We got caught by the person who wasn't supposed to find us. Juza: .....That reminds me, we saw that guy while on our way back. Azami: Even if you try to evade the subject-- Tsumugi: No, really. I was thinking of telling Tasuku too. Azami: Who do you mean? Juza: Was it Yamada? [1] Tsumugi: No, it's Asuka Haruto. From GOD Troupe. Juza: We only saw him from afar, but it looked like he was practicing on the river bed with the script in one hand. Azami: Why would he do that on the river bed in this cold? He's definitely going to catch a cold. When he could just use GOD Troupe's practice rooms. Juza: While on the way home, he probably had the sudden urge for individual practice? Azami: Suddenly, while walking home? Does that happen? Tsumugi: It does, usually. Juza: Yeah. Like when you want to try something that you suddenly thought of. Tsumugi: What happens often is when you think of a performance plan while you're walking, right? Azami: Seriously? Azami: (....You guys are the real deal.)

_________________

[1] If you recall, Haruto’s real name is Yamada Genta. 

Chapter 4 | Index | Chapter 6

[mypunkpansexualtwin]

Sumire and Ryuji from persona 5!

Hi volt! Sorry this took a while! Under a cut cause it’s gonna be a little long.

And for context for the rest of my followers, send me a character and I’ll talk about them!

Ryuji first! Because it’s the boy!

do I like them: Like him? Like him??? I adore the boy! That’s my boy! 

5 good qualities: 1) Okay I know a lot of people put it in the negative qualities, but his anger. It consistently comes from a place of compassion, of seeing people being treated less than they deserve! I love a good example of righteous fury and Ryuji has it in spades. Plus, for me at least, it’s relatable. 2) That said, even if it’s (in my humble onion) good anger, it can get ahead of him/out of hand, and he recognizes that. And when it goes too far, he apologizes! He knows, admittedly often in retrospect, when he’s gone too far and needs to make up for it. And then he does! 3) Loyal, kind of to a fault. He’s ride or die for the protag from day one to endgame, even if you take the options to be an asshole to him and throw him under the bus for the entire game. He’s still looking out for the track team even though they don’t want anything to do with him. He deserves better. 4) He loves his mama. 5) That smile. Enough said.

3 bad qualities: 1) Always putting himself down. He’s fantastic and needs his confidence back. No, honey, you do not deserve to be beat up by your ex-teammates from track. I’m gonna beat them up right back, and then the people who let you think this way, starting with Atlus. 2) Protag can’t romance him. It’s not his fault though. 3) Poor boy got slapped with the Token Perv designation. (There is a pattern here to his bad qualities that are more about Atlus than the character himself.)

favourite episode/etc: I love his awakening (granted, I love all the awakenings) but probably my favorite thing is when he just. Invites you to go fishing on his birthday? Without actually telling you that’s what day it is? He just decides that what he wants for his birthday is to spend the day with his best friend just chillin’??? But doesn’t wanna pressure you? He’s! A good! Boy!

otp: Akiryu, pegoryu, whatever you wanna call it. Skull and Joker are soulmates and that’s that on that.

brotp: Ryuji&Ann and Ryuji&Futaba are my favorites, but just in general he deserves all the friendships.

ot3 ot4: Ryuji/Akira/Makoto/Haru. I could go on at length about why I adore the potential dynamic here. But I won’t on this post. Feel free to ask me about it sometime though. Buuut it’ll probably take me a while to answer, fair warning.

notp: Honestly, as long as it isn’t something Overtly Gross (cause 16), I don’t really have a notp for him. He’s full of love that needs to be shared.

best quote: Listen, we all love the “bein’ free” and “my place is next to you” quotes, so those go without saying. Instead, consider: “My whole life I thought I was banned from watching R-rated movies because my mom told me it stands for no-Ryuji.”

head canon: Shit, normally I have a few dozen headcanons rattling around in my brain at a time, but today I got nothin’ that I can dredge up and put to paper (metaphorically) so instead, uh, this song always makes me think of him.

And Sumi!

do I like them: I really do, partly out of spite for the part of the fandom that doesn’t like her, mostly out of genuine enjoyment for the character.

5 good qualities: 1) I’ll say it flat out, I respect her saying that the Phantom Thieves aren’t a permanent solution to society’s problems and that while they’re doing good work for those with no other options, society as a whole would stagnate for relying on them and not facing their own problems head-on. Because she’s absolutely right (as seen in the 12/24 Bad Ending), regardless of the particular irony of her circumstances when she said it. 2) Her overall growth from depression and self-deprecation to unflinching determination is super admirable and tbh kinda resonated with me. 3) Again, respect for turning down the Phantom Thieves to focus on herself. I like an ally character who won’t immediately bend over backwards for a player character, it keeps things interesting. 4) Impressively sneaky. Very important for a Phantom Thief, even if she isn’t officially one until almost the end. Tailed them in Sae’s palace without tipping them off on the 18th, eavesdropped on the conversation with Lavenza and just turned up in Maruki’s palace like it was no big deal, she’s fuckin’ impressive. 5) Who doesn’t love a good cook?

3 bad qualities: 1) Not her fault, but the big gap in the story between maxing her confidant early on in the game and then not being really relevant at all until 3rd semester save for a couple of “hey remember she’s still around” cutscenes leaves her feeling really isolated from the rest of the game. It’s more an issue of the writing not making an effort to connect her to the rest of the group/story at large. (I have my issues with Persona 4 Golden, but the New Girl confidant was at least better linked to the rest of the team during her social link.) 2) Girl I get the depression aspect, but why did you think Kasumi wouldn’t have mourned your death beyond, “well now I’m gonna keep working at this goal for both of us”??? (I know, I know, she is grieving, but a lot less that we see her do as Sumire, and again, the depressive spiral that made her take off like that anyways, but still.) 3) Another complaint more at the writing team than at the character herself, but I do wish that the protag could have been a little more of a smartass to her like he can to the rest of the team. “Are you going to the park cleanup too?” “Nah, I’m wearing my school gym clothes for fun.” Y’know, harmless sass like that. She suffers from a little bit of “Here’s The New Waifu, Now Love Her” writing. 4) Atlus, please give me a Confidant item that gives me those sweet, sweet perks back in NG+.

favourite episode/etc: Her second/real awakening during the third semester. Partly because by the time we got to Makoto’s awakening, the tearing-off-the-mask moment was more of a “okay you’ve seen this part, on to The Reveal” and that was disappointing because I liked how visceral and cathartic the first three were, and boy did hers fuckin’ deliver on that. It was fantastic.

otp: I’m a sucker for Sumitaba. Although Harusumi snuck up on me recently.

brotp: Ann&Sumire and Yusuke&Sumire, but again just give her all the friends. And then a couple more just for good measure.

ot3: Sumire/Enough Food To Fuel The Growing Athlete/Writing That Doesn’t Food Shame Her

notp: Again, as long as it’s not an Overtly Nasty, You Need Jesus ship (saw one person ship her and maruki and just. Yikes.), I don’t really have a notp for her. That said, my first playthrough was more “that’s my little sister” than a character I wanted to romance, so shusumi took a little bit of a brain adjustment.

best quote: “I am myself! I’ll never forget that again!” Fuck yeah, girl, heal from that trauma!

head canon: Haru and the Yoshizawa twins were friends as very little kids in the same beginner ballet class.

[somebdyloved]

The next few days are harrowingly silent in comparison to how things were before. He convinced himself Jess changed nothing, though she did, inadvertently. If not directly impacting their relationship, her absence left its print on the bed, forcing Shane to sink every time he lays down. She'd given him the notion that Maven deserves better, those simple words Hope you live a happy life echoing in his ears every night before bed. He wants so badly to, but can't bring himself to, forever blaming himself for the pain he'd caused Lori and Rick, and now, Maven. 

But gone are the days reminiscing through memory lane over an hour or so of fishing for meals, the campfire talks until both of them get perfectly sleepy. Instead, they're cordial, but act like strangers. It's like a breakup but you haven't stopped living together, and Shane doesn't know what he'd rather have. He decides, though, that there'll be peace between them if they start to hunker down somewhere for the wintertime. The snow's only going to get more violent and the cold's only going to get more lethal, especially when the fires take longer to start and burn away faster. Their tents won't be good enough for this first winter; it'll kill them. 

So when they find a community on the other side of Atlanta, Shane figures it's best to stay there. Constance boasts a larger community, certainly larger than Appleton, facilitated by a gated subdivision. Sure, it's larger, but he notes that there's significantly less people; its population is dominated by men, and the women and children look especially desperate. 

They set up an exchange: a wintertime of Shane's work on patrol for a warm house to sleep in until spring comes. It's fair, albeit a bit risky-- Shane's always been the one to ward off against people, but this time around, makes an exception. Being around others would do Maven some good and detach herself from him a little, and it might even convince here that it's better to be with others than to play lone wolf with him. 

A week into their stay, nothing's set off Shane's alarm. The leader, George, is a few years older than him, closer to 50. He's colder than the leader back at Appleton, and maybe it comes with having a smaller community, lack of resources around the area. Shane keeps a polite distance from him and the others; they've made it clear they're here on a business exchange, and the more formal things remain, the easier it'll be for them to end their deal come spring. 

Maven, on the other hand, hasn't been shy to contribute more than their agreement. Shane's impeccable marksman skills and survival skills in general are more than enough to state the fair exchange, but of course, Maven's got to sprinkle in some of her warmth towards the women and children, who look hungry. She's been teaching them how to forage, how to make certain food, and other things that might help the community focus more on domesticity and quality of life rather than survival. 

He huffs in thought. He told her at the beginning not to get too cozy with people. It's jealousy, though, because he also reminds himself that, it's what he wanted anyway, for her to spend some time away from him. Booted footsteps behind him approach, telling him it's the end of his shift. There's no exchange of words, just the hand-off of the rifle that Shane's gotten so used to holding out in one direction, before he steps down from his post and heads towards him and Maven's home for the night. 

Walking in, he notices the doormat on the hardwood floor and almost instinctively brushes his boots off on it. He looks up; it looks so goddamn mundane, normal. He sees the back of Maven as she's swirling a wooden spoon in something by the stove. His nose can't tell what it is. "M'home," he calls out. "Gonna shower." 

Warm water is always a welcome respite, and he washes off the dirt and grime from the day. The fresh change of clothes feels so good on his skin, too. Maven calls from downstairs to tell him that the food's ready, so at her call, he heads downstairs. 

He sits at the table with her. She’s made spaghetti and some breadsticks, which he messily dips into the extra sauce. It’s gluttonous, but he believes he’s entitled to the community’s food if he puts in the work in return. He looks at the girl. It’s a good meal, and seeing her cleaned up makes her almost look like his wife, especially at this table. He huffs. 

“What’d you have to do in exchange for this?” he asks. The pantry works in a strange bartering system where the food isn’t given away for free. It’s suspicious at best, but probably George’s strategy in keeping people from becoming too complacent, too comfortable, and always working hard. A little oppressive if you ask Shane, but to each their own. “Next time, let whoever’s at the pantry know that my work and hours are enough for you to grab food for the day. You don’t owe ‘em nothin’.” 

[just-the-mage]

A Return From Dark Waters, Part II

Continued from Part I, found here!

(Written by myself & @iris-ymir​)

Iris listened to Evangeline’s story. On some level, she felt the woman’s pain, when the other was talking about her nightmares. Iris had her own. Always the same... being strapped onto a hospital bed, while slowly losing herself. But she was not dead after all? This simple sentence gave her hope she did not know she had. She would still have time to fix a couple of things. The greatest mistake she ever made... but one could not start with such a leap. Every journey started with a small step. And for Iris? That small step would be Evangeline. What the two had in the past was gone with the wind... but it was never meant to be, anyways. With Eva’s arms wrapped tightly around her body.. a little bit too tight, Iris wanted to back away. Yet she did not. She swallowed hard, trying to keep the urge to leap away on tight reins. Breaking the embrace now would shatter Evangeline like a crystal vase, dropped off the table and onto the hard, cold marble flooring. So Iris endured the tight embrace, even though it took all of her self control, her body tense against Eva’s form. “So... Irene, huh?” Irene... Another self? Like the shrimp? If this was not a bad enough joke on its own.. now possibly having two of these leeches in her head... but this one actually using the name of her lousy mother? That...that was a joke so bad it kind of ended up being good in a twisted sort of way. Iris broke the embrace carefully, without making any overt movements. She moved like Evangeline was a startled kitten she was trying to calm down.

The pale viera pushed the plug into the hole in the bottom of the pool, and walked up to the shower stand, turning it on. As the warm, clean water started to fill the pool slowly, Iris made her way back to the miserable kitten that was Evangeline, and took a seat next to her, leaning back against the railing with a sigh. 

“Irene was mi mom. A heckin’ terrible mother at dat...she died in Limsa Lominsa a good fifteen summers back. Found ‘er from da sea... raped and murdered.. Fockin’ unsuspectin’ fool... Burned ‘er corpse miself. Tha wind from da sea scattered 'er damn ashes by tha mornin’ light...” Without looking at Evangeline, Iris reached her arm over the railing, picking up a bath bomb, and flipping it into a slowly filling pool. The scent of hibiscus and steam soon filled the air. 

“Ya dun sound too damn okai wid ‘er bein’ gone though. I would fockin’ lie, if I said dis wont disturb tha livin’ shite outta mi... This whole frickin’ scene.“

Evangeline could tell Iris didn’t want this. That she was uncomfortable with this. And yet...she stayed. She didn’t jump away, break the embrace...she didn’t run. Eva felt the thinner woman’s muscles tense against her, entirely unable to relax. Evangeline was about to let her go when Iris slowly and carefully extricated herself from Eva’s muscular arms. She turned on the shower again, plugging the bath, and began to fill it back up with warm water.

She’s trying. She’s really trying.

Eva thought, surprise tickling at the hollow feeling in her chest. Iris...this was unlike her. The voice was the same, though. Her eyes...undoubtedly...were the same. This was Iris...or at least, the Iris that Evangeline had known. Perhaps Silke had gotten through to her after all. Eva tried to harden her heart to the fact that Silke and Iris...that the two of them would inevitably end up together. If Iris could change...be more kind...like she was doing here...Silke would be with her. Evangeline’s breaths deepened as she tried to calm herself. Feeling the warm water tickle at her toes helped. Something to focus on other than her feelings.

“I’m sorry to hear about your mother...regardless of her quality it’s not something you should’ve had to experience. The more I hear about gods-damned Limsa Lominsa the more I want to march on it with a battalion of soldiers and wipe the blasted place off the map.” She intoned, probably sounding a bit harsher than she had meant.

”Ya dun sound too damn okai wid ‘er bein’ gone though.” 

Iris was right...it wasn’t hard to read Eva given her tear-streaked face. She was trying to suppress the sobs, but couldn’t seem to find a way to. 

“Y-you’re right...it’s...it’s a-awfully disturbing...and I’m s-sorry...but I do m-miss her...I don’t k-know if she was your mo-mother...though. I….I….I know...it’s not f-fair to you...to want her b-back...but she was m-my friend…” Evangeline heard a sharp intake of breath, seemingly from far off in the distance, and realized that she had done it. Probably preparing herself to burst into tears again. Because that’s what today needed. More tears. She didn’t know why she was telling Iris all of this...might be that she had been trying to help...as much as she could. But Eva had held this all inside of her for too long to contain it anymore.

“Sh-she was my...f-friend...and I d-don’t have any other f-friends...a-and I don’t know how...b-but she took the nightmares away...I di-didn’t dream them...for three wonderful nights...and I’m scared...to sleep again...b-because I know they’ll be b-back…” She covered her face with her hands, feeling the water rise around her feet. She closed her eyes and tried to contain herself, but it was the scent of hibiscus that cut the last string on that violin. She curled into herself further, tighter, her arms wrapped around her knees, and she buried her face in her thighs. She shuddered, wracked with sobs. She figured Iris would probably leave soon. Most everyone usually did. Evangeline was too broken...too hurt. Too much of a mess. Too much of a burden. Now that Iris was back...she probably had things she wanted to do. A life she wanted to live.

And now that the deal was most definitely off...Iris had nothing left to gain from Evangeline’s presence. Eva waited for the sound of retreating footsteps. Expectantly. And as she did, she felt herself whisper something. Under her breath...more to herself than anything else. She hoped Iris would hear it. And she didn’t want Iris to hear it.

“I d-don’t...want t-to be...alone…again..”

As Evangeline broke into tears again, Iris stood up, taking an empty bucket and a luffa that were resting on the edge of the pool, and walked to the shower stand, filling the bucket up. In a way, Iris saw herself in the crying woman... She had felt the same after she got left alone in Limsa Lominsa. She despised her mother, but still, the lonely, sleepless nights on the streets had been horrifying. Iris had not cried a single tear for her mother back then, but she had cried for the feeling of loneliness. Just as Evangeline did now. And the root of the sorrow? Irene. Iris’ mother... Evangeline’s.. friend? The thought was disturbing, and Iris did not want to think about it. It couldn’t be.  Irene Ymir was long gone. This... this had to be someone wearing the mask. An echo of a person once lived. Deep down, Iris wished the name was just a coincidence. A simple name her subconscious had picked up from somewhere. Yes. That had to be the case. Irene was dead. As the pool filled up, Iris closed the shower, picked up the bucket and made her way into the spot next to Evangeline. She reached out for a beautiful, purple bottle of soap, and poured some of it into the bucket, stirring it with the luffa. “...Fockin’ ‘ell, Evangelin’...”, she sighed out the words, while dipping the luffa onto the bucket, and proceed to wash Eva’s back and shoulders, now that the woman was curled up into herself. “...Stop yer heckin’ bawling, okai? Who tha devil said yer alone? Im ‘ere... Ya like it or not. And for yer... Irene? If whut yer sayin’ is true... If she truly is like tha shrimp, she’ll heckin pop out sooner or later. But until dat ‘appens, yer stuck wid mi!”, suddenly Iris bursted into an almost inaudible giggle.

“Shiteberries, Im heckin’ back Ya’ll!! Dey could not keep mi! No... Dey could not keep Iris... Ya ‘ear ye motherfockers?! Tha cat’s on da table, and dere’s nothin’ ya can do about it!”, she looked up to the corner of a ceiling, with a wide grin on her messy, black lips. With her bad teeth, the look resembled something from a horror story. Iris returned back to her work, now scrubbing the soot off of Evangeline’s arms and chest, as much as she could with the woman still curled up like a caterpillar. 

“...Waaait, wait... Ya slept together? Dont tell mi ya focked wid this Irene... Because dat.. Dat would be waay too weird. For a sleepin’ though... I guess ya can sleep in mi room... I ‘ave quite a wide bed. Soo, as long as ye stay on yer heckin’ side... yer free to join mi. I can't take awai yer frickin’ nightmares, but guess I can be dere if ya ‘appen to wake up for dem. ‘Aight?” Not only that, but Iris felt like she also needed someone to sleep with her. During her time floating in the sea of deep emptiness, she had from time to time had visions... like fragments of dreams, breaking through the black veil... yet always the image had shattered in front of her eyes, like a twisted mirror, sending her back into the black.

This felt different. When she had embraced Eva just a moment ago, the woman had felt real.. alive. But still, somewhere deep inside, Iris was afraid of sleeping. What if this was yet another trick? What if she woke up only to find herself floating.. drowning once again? 

“...Now I need ya to... never goin’ ba-ack... lean back a bit, so I can wash tha rest of ye... Yer not gonna crawl yer fockin’ cadaver into mi bed like dat, sister... Ohh no... Not gonna ‘appen!”, pale viera dipped the luffa into the soap water again, while intently staring at her hand and fingers. She blinked couple of times... it was a peculiar, slow blink, her left eye barely closing at all, and the eyelid moving on a small delay compared to the right. “Now... Feel mi... tell mi about dis frickin’ Irene of yers... I need to be sure o’ sumthin’...”

“W-wait...you’re staying? R-really?” Evangeline lifted her head to try to look at Iris, who was now behind Eva, scrubbing at her back and shoulders. Eva couldn’t believe it. She had been sure...absolutely sure...that Iris would have flown the coop, as it were. But maybe...something really had changed in Iris. She assumed she flushed at the mention of her sleeping with Irene...but couldn’t feel it the same way she usually could.

“We...slept in the same bed. No sex...no need to worry about that particular situation. She was just...comforting. That’s all.”

I guess ya can sleep in mi room… 

Evangeline blinked, looking into Iris’ eyes. Was she...sincere? She looked it. If she was...this was the kindest thing Iris had ever even thought of doing for her. Maybe...maybe it was possible. Maybe they could be friends, after all. Maybe Iris, under all of her deception...her difficulties...was a good person. She shook her head in an attempt to free her face of the incredulous look it must be wearing.

Evangeline slowly started to unfurl herself, spreading out at first, and then collapsing back into the water with a splash as Iris moved away from Eva’s back. She lay on her back, half-floating in the still-rising water, and stared at the ceiling. She felt the tension finally start to leach out of her. The grime and dirt floated away from her, one with the ripples in the water that exuded from Eva as she moved slowly in the calm surface of the bath.

“I...would love...to sleep in your room. Th...thank you. That’s really nice of you.” Eva could feel herself calming down, her desperate fear fading for now.

“As for Irene...she was a spellcaster...made little dancing lights. Even healed the burn on your arm, from that boiling water. She said she grew up in Gridania...and didn’t seem acquainted with much in the way of etiquette. She ate with her hands, and didn’t seem to understand talking with people very well. She was sweet, though...kind and caring. She tried to make people feel better. I don’t think Lord Blacksoul particularly appreciated it...but I think he has cornered the market on being the grumpiest old man I’ve ever met. She was always talking about how this house has such dark memories...and she would talk to the paintings. Ask them questions about the house’s past. But the strangest thing about her...was her eyes. They seemed dead...soulless. Which was such a difference from how she acted. Her eyes were how I could tell it wasn’t you in there...almost immediately.” Evangeline sniffled, but she was fairly certain the tears were over for the night. She didn’t think she had any left in her. She finally relaxed fully, and let Iris wash her, enjoying the feeling quietly.

“We-I was going to grab some food from the kitchen...after the bath. Would you like to join me? I think there’s some leftover pie still...that should help with the taste in your mouth.”

“Well, where tha heck I would go? I kinda live ‘ere, ‘aight? ...Okai, cloose yer eyes... I'm gonna get dat face o’ yers... Fockin’ ‘ell, where ‘ave ya been? Did ya crawl through a frickin’ big Bertha or sumthin’..?”, Iris carefully wiped the soot off Evangeline’s face, using small, circlular motions. As she had got all the mess off, she threw the luffa back into the bucket, and sat down next to Evangeline. 

“...Ya can do tha rest by yerself, Cinnabun, yer a big gal...” She was a spellcaster? This little fact had been bugging Iris from the moment Evangeline had mentioned it. How was that even possible? Iris never had any gift for magic. She had once seen a highlander woman lighting a cigarette with a flame cast on her fingertip, and had tried to copy the trick without any success at all. Magic had always been something so far out of her reach. Almost like her whole being was rejecting it. And now Evangeline was telling her this person using her body could cast magic? That was ridiculous... It was... unfair? Am affront, even! Eva had been wrong. The woman was a warrior. Maybe it had been some lousy trick that Eva saw as magic. Yes. That had to be the case. It was not any more magic than Iris was the Archbishop.

One thing was certain, though. This Irene was not the Irene Iris had known. Nor an echo of her. So it was just a coincidence... 

“So... Blacksoul is still kickin’ and as grumpy an arse as ever...”, Iris cupped her palms, using them to drink some water, swished, and spat it back into the pool. “‘Ow ‘bout Gramps? For ‘ow long I ‘ave been gone aniway?” A lonely thought crossed her mind, cutting like a glowing hot knife. “...And... Silke? An archmage somewhere, married to sum good-for-nothin’ lad? Nice teeeny little tower and all dat shite?” Iris tried to laugh, but it got stuck somewhere on the way, breaking out as a frustrated sigh. She had no idea for how long she had been under. It had felt like a couple of summers, but it was hard to keep track of time in the pitch darkness... She thought she had also fallen asleep a couple of times, so it was impossible to tell. Evangeline looked quite the same. But being a viera, that meant nothing. “Pie though! Pie sounds frickin’ fantastic! ...And a cup o’ coffee.. and a heckin’ Coffin nail.. Dis head-ache is killin’ mi!“

Evangeline immersed her hair in the water, and rinsed her face, as well as the rest of her body. That...would probably do it. No more grime...finally. She drew her hair forth from the pool, a mass of dark red sloughing off water as it pulled away from the surface of the bath. She smiled slightly at the nickname Iris had given her so long ago. A part of her had missed it...that one, specifically. Something about it fit perfectly. Though she certainly wasn’t going to complain about the sweet nicknames Irene had been giving her. She hoped she would be able to hear those again, someday.

“I’ve been making something. I’m hoping that Lord Blacksoul will find it useful...a gate for the front walkway. It feels a bit absurd to me that there wasn’t one here before...it’s the most basic level of security. Closing the gate and locking it is the easiest way to prevent the vast majority of intruders from wandering onto the premises. It won’t stop everyone, but it’s a step in the right direction as far as basic safety is concerned.”

Eva seemed to have righted herself mood-wise. Best to distract herself in the interest of preventing any further breakdowns. Irene may be gone now...but hopefully she would return at some point. And for now...this was a new version of Iris that Eva was enjoying quite a bit. Something had certainly changed...Eva wasn’t entirely sure what had transpired while Iris was locked away in her mind, but maybe it, as well as Silke, had given Iris the push she needed.

“Arsene? He’s fine…” Evangeline trailed off as she saw Iris’ face drop, mentioning Silke. Assuming that Silke was...married off? How long did she think she’d been gone?

“Iris...you haven’t been gone nearly as long as you seem to think. It’s been about four days since you were...lost to us. A lot has transpired, sure...but it hasn’t been months. And no-one has gone and gotten married...nothing quite so ridiculous.” Evangeline grimaced slightly at the mention of Silke’s name. The woman had done no wrong, but Eva couldn’t help but feel a twinge of resentment bite at her. That little green jealousy monster whipped its tail at Eva’s insides...just once. Just enough for her to struggle. But she held it back and quickly corrected her expression.

“As for Silke...we will have to write her. Both she and Lord Blacksoul have departed from Ishgarde, for fairly different reasons. Silke’s studies called for her to take a semester abroad, and it seems Lord Blacksoul was wanting for some...front-line experience. I can’t understand it...but who am I to stand in the way of men and the stupid things they choose to do?” Evangeline sighed, and finished rinsing her body off. She stood up and moved to fetch herself a towel to dry herself with.

“I don’t know if you remember it, but we participated in a rather disastrous dinner party. Someone named Asagi...her daughter...and Silke were invited here. The entire night was a mess, and I’m honestly surprised neither Arsene nor Varg had a heart attack at some point during the party.” The towel she dried herself with was still a bit scandalous for her to be wrapped in, but at this point she was too tired to care. Eva wrapped another towel around her hair and ears.

“That was when I brought Irene to Silke...and Silke was able to pull you out for just a moment.” Evangeline tried desperately not to think about that night...the feelings she had struggled with...and the heartbreak she had to endure. She closed her eyes briefly, taking a deep breath and willing her hastily reassembled heart not to shatter again in the middle of the damned bathroom. 

“She requested communication should your condition change. You can write her the letter tomorrow if you’d like...and I’ll see that it’s posted.” Evangeline offered Iris a towel.

“Let’s get that pie, shall we? And coffee…” She trailed off, wondering if she should mention the cigarettes. It would be healthier for Iris to go without them...and Eva rather disliked the smell regardless. After thinking for a second, she concluded that they weren’t nearly close enough, and handed off the towel, moving towards the door, and some food, at last.

As Eva mentioned Iris had only been away for some days, the pale viera could do nothing but stare at her companion, like one had just told her the sky is green and seas are made of rolanberry jelly. 

“...Excuse me? Fockin’... f-four days? D-Dat can't be... It can't..” she shook her head in disbelief, while getting up from the bath, and reaching for a towel. 

“...I... I was in dat frickin’ bottomless ocean for... at least..t-two summers... Dat d-doesn’t make any sense! ...Yer not fockin’ wid mi, Cinnabun, ‘aight?” Nothing made sense to Iris... This feeling was too much for her mind to process properly. How can one be gone for such a long time, while for others, it had been only days? 

‘Am I heckin’ losin’ it..?’ 

She thought to herself, while wrapping the towel lazily around her hips. ‘Madness is not a state of mind...’, a voice in Iris’ head.. a foreign voice of a woman. It echoed from the back of her mind, where a creature was sitting like a canine. A mess of red hair fell in loose curls on her pale shoulders. She had pointy ears, and eyes like those of a corpse. Blood red tearlines ran down on her cheeks, and her black lips were curled up into a wide smile. The most conspicuous feature, though, was a thick, red, fox-like tail, coiling around her legs.

“Irene...”, the word escaped from Iris’ lips, after she had been staring into distance for a while. 

‘...A mind of your mind... our fates entwined...’, answered the voice in a soft tone. Iris closed her eyes, tilting her head to side. The movement was twitching, resembling a person who’s having a dream. As she opened her eyes, they were, once again, the dead eyes of Irene. In the next blink though, she was gone, like a whisper in the wind. 

“...Uhh.. So dat really ‘appened? Tha night when Silke was ‘ere..? I thought it was a heckin’ dream.. I’ll need to write sumthin’ for ‘er... Damn... Not a state of mind... Pie though... Just a whisper away... P-Pie sounds like a frickin’ splendid idea! And coffee... Fockin’ ‘ell Evangeline... Can ya please get mi a damn cig? Mi ‘ead is killin’ mi...” Holding her head, Iris trailed past Evangeline to the door, pushing it open into the dark hallway. Somewhere in the darkness she could feel the creature... For a moment, viera thought she saw a dancing orb of flame, lingering around the windows near the door, only to soon realize, it was just the glowing hint of the street lights on the walkway. She turned to Evangeline, standing with her on the doorway. “Yer fox is still ‘ere, by tha way...” Pale viera stepped into the hallway, as her eyes had started to adjust into the darkness. Why had no one lit the lanterns anyway? The place was like a grave. 

“...Never goin’ back..”, she whispered to herself, while feeling her way with her fingertips. She could hear Evangeline’s steps right behind her.

Evangeline stopped dead in her tracks. 

“Did you say two summers in a bottomless ocean? That’s...that’s so horrible.” Things were starting to piece themselves together now. Eva had been wondering how or why Iris had changed so much in just a few days...wondering what had happened to her. Wondering why she had seemed just a bit more unhinged than usual. Even through the haze of Eva’s despair, it was a bit obvious. If she had been trapped...imprisoned in her own thoughts for two summers...Evangeline could think of few things more mentally traumatising than that. Eva’s heart plummeted when she realized how awful she had been to Iris. Iris, who had been...drowning? At the bottom of an ocean...for years. And Evangeline had been concerned with her own stupid feelings. Her stupid dreams of a stupid relationship that wasn’t ever going to happen in the first place. Poor Iris...she needed some support right now.  Evangeline hoped she could provide it. She moved closer to Iris, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder, when she heard Iris speak.

Irene... Iris was looking through Evangeline, eyes vacant, directed at something that could have been behind the tall, muscular viera...or something that could be a thousand malms away. Eva was ashamed of it...but her heart leapt at the mention of Irene’s name. Eva kept her focus on Iris, though. The woman needed help from her...not another treatise on how she wanted to see Irene again. Before Eva could open her mouth to say something, Iris closed her eyes and spasmed, eliciting a jump from Eva. “Iris? Are you okay?”

She got closer to the waifish girl, eyes radiating concern as she tried to understand what was happening. Iris’ eyes snapped open, revealing Irene...just a hint of her. Irene’s eyes were truly unmistakable...although Evangeline thought she had imagined it for a moment, as the eyes flicked again. When she reopened them, they were back to Iris’ deep purple pools, filled still with life and fire that she continued to deny was present there. Evangeline shook her head, trying to clear her perspective. Taking another look over the pale woman, she nodded numbly at Iris, who had started talking about Silke again. What did this mean? Did she want Irene back so desperately that she was seeing things? Constructing that gate must have taken more out of her than she had thought...there was no way that Irene could be making herself known again. If she was even still there. Iris had hardly ever switched with the first ‘other’...what evidence did Eva have that it wouldn’t be the same with Irene? She was being too hopeful.

Iris wandered past Eva, who let her hand fall away without any resistance. The spindly figure was holding her head...best to get her something to eat. Some actual water too, maybe. Perhaps she was dehydrated. She followed after, trying not to intrude too far into Iris’ space. She wasn’t sure if her presence was helping, or hurting. Best to be careful for now...she didn’t want to upset Iris if she could avoid it. Iris turned to her, throwing a few words over her shoulder as if they were the peel to a banana.

Yer fox is still ‘ere, by tha way… 

Eva’s heart, which had just started to settle down, felt as if it were about to try and climb out of her chest and up her throat. This was confirmation. It was real. Irene was still there...and Eva had probably seen her eyes for just a moment too. A valve opened in her body somewhere and relief flooded throughout every inch of her. She could feel her body relaxing...as long as Irene would come back...for sure...Eva could wait. She would absolutely wait...and she would do her best for Iris, too. She hurried after the retreating figure, following her into the kitchen, and busied herself with starting the coffee brewing. Sweeping around the kitchen like a seasoned housewife, she fetched a plate, and smoothly slid a slice of pie onto it, filled a glass with water, and presented both to Iris, who Eva quickly noticed had taken a seat at the table, still rubbing her forehead.

“There...maybe this will help a bit. Oh!” Eva spun on her heel, almost floating to the silverware drawer, and wrapping her fingers around a clean fork, which she placed delicately next to the pie.

“The coffee should be ready soon...and…” Evangeline grimaced. She didn’t feel comfortable enabling it...but she didn’t want to cause any unnecessary friction with Iris. 

“Where do you keep your cigarettes? I can fetch one for you…”

To be continued..

[astraladvent]

Prism: So far...

((A lengthly excerpt from the Prism Arc catch-up event!))

Berrod Armstrong looked around the room. "Ah, this is a good turnout. Thanks for comin'. There's -- a lot to go through, so I'll begin at the beginnin' and we'll work through it from there. Feel free to add any details you noticed or ask relevant questions as I go on. Won't spend too long answerin' questions before I'm done though."

 Berrod Armstrong: "Some time ago, durin' a social gatherin' in Costa Del Sol, it so happened that we came into contact with a queer manner o'crystal. There was a fireworks show on, an' it seemed that the crystal fell outta the sky, skipped on the water an' hit a cliff wall near us. The spot on the cliff wall that it hit got streaked white an' chalky. The crystal itself was...strange. Colourful, bright an' packed with aether. Goin' near it or touchin' it was enough to wash a man in the stuff."

 Berrod Armstrong: "Didn't take long for us to realise how much it enhanced not only our reserves of aether, but the things we could do with it. The white stuff on the cliff wall on the other hand, killed everything it touched. Stilled the aether in it until it ended up just as white an' dead as the rocks. Fortunately, it was contained to those streaks."

 Louma'li Jinjahl looked sheepish. "Also brought out a few...undesirable qualities in a few."

 Milo North: "Ick."

 Berrod Armstrong eyed Lou for a moment and inclined his head slightly.

 Louma'li Jinjahl: "You're really lucky ya didn't end up lickin' it."

 Berrod Armstrong: "At -first-, we decided to let the La Noscean an' Lominsan authorities handle it. We arranged for the crystal -- the Prism, we called it, to be collected by the Yellowjackets an' taken back to the city proper for the Arcanist's guild to keep in their custody." He rubbed his face then, "Really wished it all stayed there, but the Gods had different plans it seemed. They cordoned off the streaked area, but a couple of our people got samples of the dead white rocks. They were harmless if you didn't let it touch flesh."

 N'hara Tia: "Also got samples of some of the sea creatures it killed. Not the prettiest sight."

 Orion Llewelyn stroked the lizard in his lap, attempting to lull the creature to sleep. It was having none of it with all the people around and hissed.

 Soyer Perera entered and remained silent. No greeting and not motions beyond walking and picking a spot.

 Berrod Armstrong made a face at the mention of the dead sea creatures, but nodded to acknowledge it. "Least chalky fish don't stink..."

Berrod Armstrong: "Anyroad, a couple weeks later the Arcanist's guild called us up for our help with a matter involvin' the crystal. Apparently since we were the once who had 'experience'--" He made quotation marks with his fingers then, "--with it, we were the ones they wanted. Turned out they tried to cast some standard protective stuff around it for safe keepin', but the crystals amplified the magic to the point that it got a bit -too- well shielded. We were hired to work with a fella named Hartsald to  break that shield. From the reports it seemed like one hell of a job, but nothin' catastrophic, an' nothin' the team that went couldn't handle."

 Berrod Armstrong turned to offer a tip of his chin to Soyer by way of greeting.

 Soyer Perera nodded but made no sound.

 Berrod Armstrong: "We used the success of that job to curry some favour with the Arcanist's guild, to the point where we managed to get a sample of the crystal for the company for our own to study. Unfortunately, a couple weeks after -that-, we got another missive from the guild. Hartsald had gone missin', an' from the investigation we launched into it, he'd gone barkin' mad before he vanished. He'd been drawin' nonsense on maps, rippin' up books, writin' over an' over again about somethin' called -blàths bloigh-. No language I'd ever heard of. With the help of those of us gifted in understandin' such things, we learned that it means 'blooming essence'. An' so the hunt for Hartsald began."

 Natja Bafsk breezes on in like she was here all along, peering around and filing her nails into even pointier points.

 N'hara Tia brought a hand to the bridge of his nose. Not a fun assignment…

 Milo North: "Baths Bentlow, yeah."

Milo North: "... Blowfly."

Milo North: "... Blarfs."

 Orion Llewelyn: "Spoilers: He was found."

 Natja Bafsk nods her head agreeably at Milo's valiant effort, knowing damn well she can't do anything better.

 Berrod Armstrong: "The hunt led us to the Blac--" He quickly and apologetically eyed Jancis in the distance, "Uh, the Twelveswood, where the search team encountered all sorts of mischievous magics. Weird plants, floaty-stuff. The reports were...wild. Even though that was dealt with, apparently the team came into contact with an anomaly that caused the same whitenin' effect from the cliffs in Costa. I still...don't really understand what I read about what the team there saw, but everyone came outta it okay."

 Berrod Armstrong: "Mostly, anyroad."

 Louma'li Jinjahl: "And one overly animated annoyin' blue...person."

 Berrod Armstrong: "Ah, aye. Jock whatsisballs."

Louma'li Jinjahl couldn't remmeber how many Jock-Jocks it was.

 Zachary Evans mouthed the phrase 'blue person' in absolute confusion.

 Louma'li Jinjahl: "Jock-Jock somethin' Jock, covered in woad an' crazy, aye."

 Milo North: "Somethin' made outta Light."

 Bayan Dataq cracked a small smile. This was getting good. Now there were blue people. He wondered what strange Eorzean people that was.

 Milo North shivers at the memory.

 Berrod Armstrong: "He'd been hired to find Hartsald too -- an' now we know by who. But I'll get to that in time."

 Louma'li Jinjahl had a sneaking suspicion of the 'who' but he'd be happy if fate decided to surprise him. Lou just nodded along with Berrod's assertion that they'd get to it, in time.

 Berrod Armstrong: "Arcanist's guild hadn't made any headway either, an' so as more time went on, the more everyone feared Hartsald was dead. You know how it goes with missin' persons. Anyroad, -another- issue popped up in Mor Dhona that we went to investigate. After what happened in the Shr...er -- -Twelveswood-, we were expectin' to find Hartsald. Instead, we found a Hyuran fella with an axe an' way, -way- too much power. The team went in, accompanied by one Grave Shadow as an observer, the reports said. The Hyur -- Breaker, or Baby or whatever -- was subdued an' separated from a prismatic crystal that he'd been given with the promise of power. It was there that the monk twin ladies some of y'all came to know were sighted for the first time."

 Orion Llewelyn leaned over to Bayan with a hushed voice, "That's where I came in." A thumb was jerked in Berrod's general direction.

 Bayan Dataq nodded. The cast of characters was getting a bit much for him to keep track of, but he was doing his best.

 Jancis Milburga looks thoughtful, "And that odd sludge that came off of him."

 Soyer Perera || It occured to Soyer that it was around this time he had joined the Company too...He had a faint smile at the thought.

 Berrod Armstrong: "Breaker was pretty badly affected by what had happened to him. He wasn't an enemy, not really. Just someone who'd gotten a raw deal. We took care of his recovery an' such,an' in doing so, found out he had a connection to those twins...like -- a thread. Oh--" He consulted his book then, "I shouldn't forget the group out in the ruins of Nym either. After the Hartsald incident, we went to investigate some aetherial spikes there an' did battle with an entire group enhanced with shards of prismatic crystal. It wasn't enough to make 'em -crazy- powerful, so they got taken down smoothly enough. One of 'em was above the rest though...Astrologian gal with a -weapon- made with one of the crystals in it. Our first encounter with a prismatic weapon."

 Milo North: "Someone had fun lickin' crystals."

 Zachary Evans shifted from foot to foot before finally deciding on doing squats. The whole chain of events had given the young man a surge of nervous energy.

 Louma'li Jinjahl: "An' she up an' ran before we could finish kickin' her arse. Seems Shadow got to her though an' finished things."

 Natja Bafsk 's expression slowly takes a turn for the morose, more and more.

 Bayan Dataq 's face gave away he didn't really approve of leaving a mark alive in a hunt, but didn't say anything.

 Zachary Evans: "I'm not exactly sure of -how- comfortable I am working with Shadow again...wherever the Shadows are, things go from worse to catastrophic."

 Sarij Rahzersyn: "Alright, focus folks."

 Zachary Evans: "Sorry, chief."

 Sarij Rahzersyn: "And listen tah what Berrod has tah say, ya can ask shite after."

 Natja Bafsk nods to Sarij Rahzersyn.

 Berrod Armstrong: "It turns out that the Astrologian gal didn't quite get away -- so proven by a box sent to us by a -mysterious benefactor- at the time. It contained the prismatic weapon...broken, though that didn't make the crystal itself any less potent. The box itself was made with...arcane stuff written on it that turned it into a kind of compass that pointed us north, to Coerthas. Again, we decided to investigate, an' the team sent met -- another arcanist? Nah -- a uh, a--" He checked his notes, "Nymian-styled Scholar. He didn't quite have a prismatic weapon, but his -faerie- was made of the stuff. From what I read, his spellwork was...damn powerful."

 Tiergan Vashir blinked at that. "His /faerie/ was made of /crystal/?"

 Berrod Armstrong: "Aye. Bright an' colourful an' glitterin'...an' -potent-."

 Autgar Bloode: "Yes, his fairy was a crystal. He was very strong."

 Orion Llewelyn looked away to take a swig of his drink.

 Tiergan Vashir frowns deeply, brow furrowing.

 Berrod Armstrong: "Was around that time that our study into the crystal itself showed us some of what it was capable of. Like allowin' me to conjure as if it was nothin', for example. Healed a gash on my own arm with a twig an' it didn't even leave a scar." He offered his arm as proof.

Berrod Armstrong: "I should note that the crystal samples in our possession went up to two. The weapon, an' the sample we got from the Arcanist's guild."

 Jancis Milburga furrows her brow at Berrod's arm.

 Tiergan Vashir: "Did.... you have much conjurying ability before or did you go from none to suddenly proficient?"

 Berrod Armstrong: "I tried to learn once. They were nice about tellin' me I would never be able to do it."

 Aulen Mistbreaker was totally not taking a nap or anything as he showed up late.

 Berrod Armstrong: "I don't have a lick of castin' talent, sad to say."

 Orion Llewelyn: "Shame, that."

 Louma'li Jinjahl: "Ya punch things better anyways."

 Zachary Evans: "That's...disturbing. Granting that much power out of the blue is dangerous."

 Autgar Bloode: "You've got plenty of other talents chief."

 Tiergan Vashir: "So these crystals can turn anyone into a skilled mage."

 Berrod Armstrong: "Nnnh -- well, I knew the -motions-, I just never made anythin' happen, you know? But that crystal changed that."

 Milo North: "Or jus' let you throw enough power at a spell."

 Orion Llewelyn: "An' those of us already skilled t'start with, well..." Orion leaned back.

 Milo North: "That it makes it look like you can do it."

 Soyer Perera frowned at that--he hadn't been told they could do that too.

 Berrod Armstrong: "Go on," He urged Orion.

 Milo North: "Scarier thought is what happens when someone like fuckin' black mage casts one of their clever lil' spells with the power of one of these."

 Natja Bafsk nods to Milo North.

 Orion Llewelyn: "Huh?" He sputtered. "Oh I've got nothin'. Just sayin' I can imagine how it'd be like for those of us with a lick o' talent an' skill."

 Milo North: "Power and the nuance to properly use it."

 Berrod Armstrong nodded, "Aye."

 Tiergan Vashir: "Is that why Mountain's Shadow has an interest then?"

 Martin Adler: "Probably." Martin grunts.

 Autgar Bloode: "Save the questions folks."

 Aulen Mistbreaker spoke up. "Well... back on the beach. A simple spell I used turned a small flame into a massive pyre by just being near the damn thing."

 Berrod Armstrong: "Aye..."

 Berrod Armstrong: "Alright -- back to Breaker an' his ability to trace the twins...much like the box had become a compass that led us north, he led a team of us south into the Sagolii to follow the twins' trail. From what I read, the trip was an interestin' one. They utilised their crystals to their full potential and put up a hell of a fight. It was hard, but our team won out with Breaker's help. Poor bastard ended up abed again, an' we took the twins into our custody. Treated them well, mind you."

 Natja Bafsk smiles, but with a notable twinge of sadness.

 Jancis Milburga: "Had to, those crystals were embedded."

 Berrod Armstrong: "That fight was an' educational one, 'cause we learned about the flawed crystals. Turns out that they were not only different to the samples we had, but they had awful effects on the user. Uh --" He consulted his book again, and began to read directly off of it.

 Orion Llewelyn: "They amplified the user's flaws."

 Milo North: "They got real ugly?"

 Berrod Armstrong: "Our samples achieved perfect resonance with the user's aether. Perfect prisms. The flawed crystals however, sought to compensate for their imperfection by resonating oppressively and affecting the user's aether in a detrimental manner -- usually to the tune of illness or behavioural changes."

 Berrod Armstrong: "Aye, what Orion said."

 Louma'li Jinjahl: "Not ugly enough to not fluster Autgar."

 Autgar Bloode would remember that.

 Orion Llewelyn snorted, "Not that kinda flaw. Made angry people angrier an' that kinda thing."

 Bayan Dataq: "Weaknesses?" he asked softly.

Berrod Armstrong: "After some questionin' -- gentle, mind you, we never treated 'em badly," We learned that -Hartsald- was apparently creating the flawed crystals and temptin' people to power with 'em. First the twins, then he tried to get 'em to bring Breaker on board. S'what was happenin' when we met the lot of 'em in Mor Dhona. What was most interestin' is that they said that we couldn't just go -find- Hartsald. He had to be -summoned-. The ritual to do it was queer as all hells."

 Tiergan Vashir: "Summon. Like some sort of voidsent?" There was audible distaste in his tone.

 Milo North: "You can summon other stuff, too. Kinda."

 Berrod Armstrong: "I would think that if the ritual wasn't...downright stupid."

 Orion Llewelyn wavered a hand before Bayan at his question. "Sorta like that."

 Berrod Armstrong: "Once again a team went out -- to the Cloud Sea up above the Spine. Aether's rich there an' it was far away from people just in case things got hairy...which they did. Still don't really understand what happened, but they called him. He was strange, with bright blue eyes with rings in 'em," He gestured at his own eyes, ever one to talk with his hands, "Talkin' funny too, not nearly the same as he was before. Borin' an' kinda stodgy."

 Bayan Dataq perked up a bit. Sounded like the red haired hyur was describing him. Badly, but still.

 Berrod Armstrong: "Seems like he tried somethin', but the team figured it out and put a stop to it before he finished. Unfortunately, one of the twins got turned into a plant -- or was it eaten by a plant...?" He checked his notes again, "Ah, she got turned into a bush. When they finally managed to put Hartsald down, a big ol' pair of flowers grew. One spat out the twin, the other...Hartsald's body. The -real- Hartsald. Poor bastard had been dead all along, an' somethin' was wearin' his face. Accordin' to what I read, he'd been killed long before, even though he wasn't rottin'."

 Milo North: "So.... Voidsent."

 Soyer Perera frowned a bit deeper. If he were the type to be ungrammatical, he'd say this entire thing was getting curiouser and curiouser.

 Jancis Milburga swears to Nald'thal quietly.

 Soyer Perera: "That doesn't sound like a voidsent."

 Berrod Armstrong shook his head. "Would be simple if it was. Read more like a ghost to me."

 Orion Llewelyn: "Aye, I'm inclined to agree with Berrod."

 Bayan Dataq shook his horned head. This is why he preferred sheep and horses. Less magic and spirits. More things that were simple to skewer with his lance.

N'hara Tia: "This whole fiasco gets worse and worse when you really stop and think about it..."

 Orion Llewelyn: "Like....another soul." He offered up.

 Tiergan Vashir: "A ghost that turns people into plants and grows flowers that hold bodies?"

 Milo North: "A ghost who makes people inta plants? Ashkin ain't that powerful. Or smart."

 Milo North: "Mosta the time they jus' moan about how much it hurts or whatever."

 Berrod Armstrong: "Team came back, though the affected twin hadn't regained consciousness. Reks examined her, an' it turned out there -- wasn't a soul in her body. I dunno how that was possible, or how it worked, but that's what happened. We decided to keep her safe, an' her sister didn't leave her side. Breaker was fully recovered an' decided to go out there an' try to make some headway."

 Berrod Armstrong: "Took a couple weeks, but he came back...different. He'd acquired a bit of prismatic crystal, which somehow -fused- with him while he slept. It...made him strong. Real strong. I dunno if he's immortal now, but I know it's real hard to hurt him. Or was. We had to press him for answers, but even when he finally caved an' tried to give 'em to us, he couldn't speak of it, or even write of it. He'd been hexed, and pretty badly."

 Berrod Armstrong: "The same night he came back to us, somethin' happened to the unconscious twin. Long story short, whatever had been masqueradin' around as Hartsald jumped into her, pulled a switch on us, an' ran off into the night. Was a damn mess, I'm told. Her sister an' Breaker went off to try an' find her."

 Natja Bafsk stares down at her lap, ears drooping backward.

 Berrod Armstrong: "'nother couple weeks went by. Breaker an' Rookmin -- ah aye, that was her name -- kept in contact, wrote to us an' stuff...an' then the contact stopped. Stopped for a worryin' while, with the last place they mentioned bein' Tailfeather up in the Dravanian lands. Of course, we sent a team up to find 'em..." He rubbed the back of his head then, "An' what a time that was."

 Berrod Armstrong: "There were so many things -- a cave full o'gold dust. Talkin' to dragons...followin' the trail on a whole. The trail led to a white, magical coffin' with the words 'Let sleeping beasts lie' on it. Anybody who tried to tamper with the coffin got...frozen? Stilled -- though it came at a cost to the coffin's aether. With enough people triggerin' it, it eventually ran out, an' broke open."

 Milo North: "W..."

 Orion Llewelyn: "Nothin' like brute forcin' some magic."

 Milo North places his face into his hands, "You opened the magic box sayin' please dun open."

 Jancis Milburga: "And good we did." Her tone is sadder after the mention of gold dust.

 Tiergan Vashir visibly tenses up at this portion of the tale, shoulders locking. He glances back towards Jancis once before his jaw sets and he looks to Berrod again.

 Louma'li Jinjahl: "To be fair, at least we did it an' didn't die. Can't say if someone else woulda lived if they did the same."

 Berrod Armstrong rubbed at his face with one hand. "I'm glad I can just give the facts here now, because at the time it was confusin' as all hells. Breaker, as it turned out, had been jumped into by the Hartsald-wearer. It was a bad combination, because Breaker himself was fused with a prismatic crystal an' powerful as all hells. Not only that, but in tryin' to resist the thing tryin' to ride him, he unleashed -- well, a beast, is the best way to put it. Y'all would be interested to know that one Mountain Shadow showed up, yellin' at the team for openin' the coffin. He looked pretty chewed up. Even lost consciousness, I think."

 Cerina Borlaaq gave a very audible grunt of pure /disgust/ at the mention of Mountain, however, she didn't say anything about it.

 Orion Llewelyn finished off what remained of his drink.

 Berrod Armstrong: "We know now that Rookmin and Breaker had found the other twin -- Sumintra, which is when the...thing...jumped from her to him. Apparently Mountain was on their trail an' used that coffin thing to subdue the thing -- which we opened. Ah well. Anyroad...there was a fight. Details...don't matter. There was a fight that we won. Autgar managed to kill the thing...for good. Breaker was safe, though the twins were missin' still. Both of 'em this time."

 Jancis Milburga glances back at Martin briefly before gazing at Tiergan for awhile, silently echoing Berrod's words.

 Milo North: "Course he put a cryptic phrase on the fuckin box instead of, I dunno, -something explainin' exactly what was inside-."

 Berrod Armstrong: "Mountain got extracted from the area an' we dealt with the fallout as we always do. Got some blessed quiet for a while after that. We needed it."

 Louma'li Jinjahl: "An' he wrote it in ways that only people versed in an arcane science could understand. Coulda gotten better results with a slab o' wood an' some paint."

 Orion Llewelyn: "That's got me wonderin' though. It /was/ quiet for a good bit. Us meetin' here though..."

 Orion Llewelyn: "does that mean somethin's happened?"

Berrod Armstrong: "Quiet couldn't last, I suppose, 'cause who else came marchin' up to our gates a few weeks later but Mountain himself, with the balls to ask us to -leave it all to him-. Didn't need to consult leadership to outright refuse that, no matter how much I'd like to wash my hands o'this stuff." He smiled at Orion then, "I'll get to that in a lil bit."

 Milo North: "Really. Is "There is an awful monster in here, this box is keeping it from killing you. No touch.' So hard? Fuckin' Mountain."

 Orion Llewelyn: "Wait, he came /here?/ What'd he want?"

 Orion Llewelyn: "Oh well, I guess you just said that." he leaned back again, slightly less agitated.

 Sarij Rahzersyn: "To be fair... even if he wrote that people would have opened it."

 Berrod Armstrong: "Aye. We said no an'...he was uh, awfully gracious an' decided that in the event of our refusal, -he- would leave it entirely to -us- instead. Apparently it'd be one or the other, so long as it meant we no longer clashed. So he officially withdrew from the matter, an' shared with us some information, includin' the whereabouts of some missin' people. The scholar, the twins, an' the Astrologian."

 Mholi'to Valrei offered the room a brief wave as he walked over to an open spot to stand. He was quiet for now as to catch up on the current conversation.

 Berrod Armstrong: "Apparently he'd convinced them all to withdraw from the whole ordeal, an' has managed to keep 'em safe in his own way." There was an unconvinced shrug from him, but he went on, "He also handed over his prismatic crystal -- the Scholar's faerie. We have three samples now."

 Cerina Borlaaq: "So it is only a matter of time before he tries to swoop in again." She huffed. "We should have just cut him down when he showed up at our doorstep."

 Orion Llewelyn: "He gave ya his faerie...?" Orion bunched up his brow.

 Berrod Armstrong: "Hmn. Oh -- aye, though it turned back into a chunk o'pretty crystal when it left his side."

 Orion Llewelyn ran a hand along his jaw, pensively, saying nothing further.

 Sarij Rahzersyn: "Kindly keep murder plans to yerself. Mountain is a company owner of a known company and on the level in the terms of the governing bodies."

 Sarij Rahzersyn: "I don't feel like going infront of a judge again."

 Milo North: "I ain't sayin' anything about killin'. I'm thinkin' it real loudly though."

 Cerina Borlaaq: "I did not ask for your assistance, Sarij. But do not make this company bend to him again."

Berrod Armstrong: "Speakin' of which, couple folks from here parleyed with 'im an' made some requests, one o'which he granted." Very carefully did he pull an envelope from between the pages of the book he'd been reading his notes from. The envelope was handed across to Autgar, though in stretching to do so, Berrod held it dangerously close to the candle's flame. "Ah -- shite, whoops. There y'go."

 Bayan Dataq was starting to wonder why everyone was talking about some mountain. And why everyone hated a geographical feature.

 Natja Bafsk peers over at the envelope questioningly.

 Autgar Bloode plucked up the letter and held it infront of him on the table without a word.

 Dylan Skye: "...What is that, Autgar?"

 Orion Llewelyn leaned back forward, eyes shifting toward the envelope as well and then to Autgar.

 Orion Llewelyn: "Aye, what he said."

 Mholi'to Valrei took a few steps closer to Autgar to peek over the man's large shoulders out of curiosity.

 Sarij Rahzersyn: "I am saying.... stay the hells away from 'em and not deal wtih em, so if as ya think he tries tah get his fingers involved wit us... we got solid feet undah us rather than having the Immortal Flames kicking in the door again to arrest folks."

 Autgar Bloode elbowed Oli. "We can talk about it when were all caught up."

 Bayan Dataq 's eyes shot open, and then he looked to Orion for clarification. “What kind of company was this anyroad?"

 Mholi'to Valrei frowned as he was lightly jabbed. "Fine, fine," he grumbled. His curiosity still burned bright, but his eyes were forced back towards Sarij. "Honestly, the best thing to do in my opinion would be whatever the hells we intended to do before he showed up. Regardless of what he's offerin'. He smells like trouble."

 Louma'li Jinjahl looked on skeptically as this was unfolding. He didn't have history with Shadow, but at this rate, he was hating him just out of spite.

 Cerina Borlaaq: "That has certainly worked for us in the past when it comes to dealing with him, yes? Because he has not managed to weasel himself into the company, and out of what ever--" she waved her hand in front of her in frustration, "solid ground you are talking about. Figured you would know that better than anyone else."

 Sarij Rahzersyn: "This company is not a wetworks." Sarij replied simply. "Berrod feel free tah continue."

 Cerina Borlaaq scoffed loudly, but decided not to press on.

 Autgar Bloode was scanning over the letter before he returned it to the envelope and rested it on the table infront of him.

 Berrod Armstrong nodded at Autgar, then at Sarij. "I agree that we have to be careful. He's got a legitimate thing going an' -if- he means us ill, which I'll never rule out, he's gonna get us tangled up in a lotta legal shite before the final blow. Either way -- if he says he's out, I agree with Oli there...we press on like he's not around. Granted...it might mean followin' some of his...advice."

 Soyer Perera: "And what's wrong with that?"

 Jancis Milburga nods in agreement. "Coincidence."

 Berrod Armstrong: "Or rather, followin' his methods. He said that he wanted to dissipate the crystals by givin' their aether to the land -- it's why Breaker was put in that coffin, to drain him of the prismatic aether he'd been fused with -- and contain that thing inside him too."

 Soyer Perera: "Provided it doesn't harm anyone or the land itself--we have enough mages here to confirm if the method would actually put it back into the land, right?"

Mholi'to Valrei: "Then make sure that information is verified independently somewhere else. Facts are facts, regardless of who's sayin' it. Are you sure that it's the best method, all things considered?"

 Berrod Armstrong: "So we have three samples. I want us to begin lookin' into ways to gettin' these crystals smelted down into the land, for lack of a better term. Once we find a way to do it safely, that's how we'll handle any o' the prisms we come into contact with goin' forward."

 Berrod Armstrong: "Aye, those things are a menace in man's hands."

 Mholi'to Valrei nodded back. "A broken clock's right twice a day."

[thehandsomeasshole]

@starttheanarchy from X

"Then why use them for a job they are not meant for, just keep them to their original purpose and make something new that works for what you need. And because quality work will save in the long term with less repairs, replacements, and malfunctions over all. And your welcome." The wide grin could be heard in her last three words. She was raised to have some manners after all. "And DT could probably do it as long as the load weight isn't over hmmm..." She drifts off as fingers tap together, mental math being calculated. "Eight tonne? Maybe less. I'm not exactly sure on that front since I actually haven't tested his limits on that front. Hmm something to test another day." Her eyes drifted over the floating form of her robot as it stayed ever vigilant of her surroundings. She knew it could do some heavy lifting since she had used previous versions to move things in the junk yard.

Eyes roll at yet another reason on why to avoid corporations, and another as he seems to enjoy being a pest.

"Actually last thing I did was fix up several things that were in disrepair in Overlook, since too much of the population of that poor town have the skull-shivers and had no access to the medicine. Something about repair tickets being ignored or something like that. And I didn't come here for the shallow reason of becoming rich, I'm opening the vault to try and prevent a very clearly corrupt corporation from monopolization on something that might be a blessing or a curse." If she had it her way, she would keep it locked forever since no one has a full understanding of the capabilities and issues of Eridium that began to spawn after the first one opened. To many variables and yet everyone wanting to just add more into the chaos.

"Yes, yes. The definition fits, but you seem to think I am on the same level of depravity like the Fleshrippers or the Bloodshots. To which all I can say is, rude and incorrect. And princess? Really?" That got her to shoot a glare back at the space station.

"Not everyone. Yes there are people who still deserve a chance to be treated like a decent human because they are. But you seem to be hard at work for making it so those people are just as dead as the rest. And you are right, no one has used an army of robots to lay siege on a planet in the name of their own ideals. They used armies of people, and all of them were considered like a plague upon humanity in the context of history. Dictators, tyrants, oppressors, authoritarians, monsters. Wonder how will you be written down."

At the laughter, and how it grew as she talked about what started this whole hot mess off for her on planet side, it made her skin itch with irritation. Out of everything on this fucking disaster hellscape, it was Hyperion that tried to kill her first. Sure others might have had to deal with bandits at other stops, but she went from off the inter-space shuttle to the train with no issues.

It was fair to say Jack was the first person to try to actually kill her. Even when escaping Eden-5 they were aiming for capture to make her life a living hell instead of a death sentience. It was one of the reasons she was trying so damn hard to keep surviving at this point, out of spite for the asshole who tried to kill them after using some shitty signs to inform them of their supposed doom.

Hands were clenched into fists and she could feel a chill roll through her body. It was like the ice never left at times.

A deep breath as she turns her face to the sun that burns the landscape, she is fine and alive. And she isn't going to follow his script and get pissed. She isn't going to scream like everyone else on this planet. The Mechromancer is going to do what she always does, go against what is expected.

"How about you tell me something else instead. You worked with the Crimson Raiders? What happened? What is the full story, from beginning to end?" Her voice is calm and even, one that seems to hold no judgment and wanting to listen. And she does, after all there isn't much information on the group. Gaige had no plans to jump ship, but she honestly had as much trust for them as she did for most anyone on this planet that wasn't shooting at her. Eden-5 taught her that the only person she could ever trust was her father and the friends she created with her own two hands.

"No bullshit, no propaganda. Just your side of the story. I have time."

Jack did smile at the little sass she threw his way, despite himself. "Well, empty, those things weigh nearly five tonnes. So, nice try. I guess." He chose to ignore her initial comment about using the loaders for their designed purpose. There was not enough patience in Jack's body to unpack all of that right now.

"Oh, the vaults are definitely a curse. But, once you get the ball rolling around here, there's not really anything anyone can do to stop it." Jack shrugged lightly, scanning through the first four pages while he spoke, "You just… gotta do what you can before another idiot comes along and screws everything up even worse than you did."

"Nah, you're right. Princess made me feel a little icky. How about… I- I'll get back to you, I'll think of something real good." he laughed lightly, beginning to scribble down some notes on the papers before he continued. 

"You sure as hell act like 'em, you and your bandit buddies. Just exactly how many things or people have you killed since you got to Pandora? Hey, look, I'll even give wildlife a pass cause- Well, you could kill a hundred skags one day and the next day there'd be two hundred more. Let's just focus on people. Maybe you're not running around screaming about meat bicycles, and maybe it is a little rude of me, but it's also correct. You just don't wanna admit it."

"The people who are still decent in this universe are few and far, kid. In my entire life, I've only met two people who were truly selfless." One's dead and the other’s… worse. "But, you do realise that if it wasn't me up here, it'd just be someone else? Hell, Dahl and Atlas would still be plowing through planets like they're big balls of paper and slaughtering everyone in their way while going off about fighting for those planets' freedoms and peace."

"Ooh, I love tyrant! Has a nice ring to it, don't you think? Always considered myself more notorious, than anything else." The sharp, almost humorous-sounding edge to his voice gave the impression he was teasing her, "Kid, it's nothin' I haven't heard before. You really think I'm gonna be kicking it anytime soon, anyway? Nah. Nope, not happening! I got way too much to do."

Jack's brows knitted together and slowly raised in a mixture of surprise and confusion. Sure, maybe she didn't care, he'd just never had a person who hated him ask for his side of the story before.

He decided not to express his shock.

"So, I'd been working on Helios since it launched, I was, uh-... A- a programming and engineering specialist for Hyperion for ten, fifteen years, maybe. I was in charge of most of the construction, getting together schematic proposals to give to my bosses, all that kinda shit."

"The first time I met Lilith and Roland was when Dahl decided they wanted to massacre all the workers on Helios and take it over. They… They didn't discriminate. If you worked for Hyperion, they'd gun you down without even batting an eye. They killed so many of the workers up here, I knew them all personally. We- we didn't even have a real military then, for God's sake! They shot workers out of the sky when they were trying to evacuate. That was the level of murderous psychopaths we were trying to deal with. We defended as best as we could, but even the freaking loaders weren't weaponised yet, I had like… Six hours to get them into a position to defend themselves, and you bet your ass I did it. I guess that actually answers your earlier question, too. I used them for a job they weren't made for out of necessity, the damn Lost Legion shot at them when they were running away, too. Assholes."

"I managed to get the vault hunter's I'd hired down to Elpis in a moonshot, think you've met a couple of them. They got to Concordia thanks to-" Shit. He hadn't actually thought about Janey in a while. He'd ask Athena how they were both doing, but she'd probably curb stop his head before he could even say hello. "-uh, this mechanic. They asked Lilith and Roland to help cause, y'know, Dahl had stuck a jamming signal somewhere on that moon and I couldn't work Helios's defences until it was shut off. They knew people on Helios were dying, and they said no."

"They only started to help when their lives were in immediate danger and Dahl got control of the moonshot laser and start firing away at Elpis. I really did trust 'em to help us, y'know? Like they promised they would."

"I guess they kinda did. We managed to get control of the laser again and… They blew it up. They nearly took the whole space station down just because they didn't want Hyperion having it. That stupid laser could've saved Pandora, you know. It could've- The blasts were so concentrated we could've wiped out an entire bandit settlement and their nice neighbours next door would've barely felt the ground tremble. I'd worked so hard on that laser. You have any idea how hard it was to make? How much progress they destroyed when they blew that damn thing up? A lot! A whole, freaking lot and-... Sorry. Off topic. Uh…"

He made a small noise, "Oh, yeah. Anyway, after that it was just a rush trying to get to the vault before anyone else did. Dahl was already there, but after what happened with those two I wouldn't have been surprised if they got to the vault first just so we couldn't."

"But, we did. My vault hunters took care of the- The Empyrean Sentinel, I think they called it. Big bastard, more human than the other vault monsters. Freaky stuff."

"So, the Sentinel was dead, and we finally got to the vault relic. It looked like… Nothing. Very underwhelming. Just a weird little floating vault symbol. I decided to touch it and-..." Jack went quiet for a while, his knuckles growing white with how tightly he was gripping the armrests of his chair, "And I saw… everything."

He felt sick even talking about it. The pit in his stomach growing deeper and he knew if he didn't stop soon he'd fall into a full blown breakdown. So, he took a shaky breath in and continued.

"Wasn't long after that when Lilith made her grand entrance. She destroyed the relic and- blasted the fuck out of my face. You ever had your face branded by some freaky eridian technology? It sucks. Real bad."

He let his head drop back, and he rubbed his eyes, "So, there's my side. Think I can quit my day job and become a professional story teller?" Though he tried to make a joke, the fire in his voice seemed to have dissipated. He just sounded… tired.

[charlessmithhasmyheart]

How They React to Reader On Their Period (F) - Pt. 3

A/N: Heyo! I think it’s been months since I actually posted any ‘original’ content on my blog. Things have been pretty crazy, but I’m going to try to focus a bit more on writing in order to recharge my mental health. Anyways...I finally got around to making the female gang members version of this. Enjoy!

————————

Tilly:

Tilly was, unfortunately, cursed with the raging type of period, which meant a sour stomach, vomiting episodes, and, much to Grimshaw’s chagrin, extreme fatigue. When the two of you first started courting it was something you really had to get used to, and when it came to your own period side effects, you had opted to keep them to yourself; why complain to Tilly when her problems far surpassed your own? Lucky for you, Tilly did not carry the same mindset.

It wasn’t until a few months into your relationship that you couldn’t hide your own reoccurring symptoms any longer. You had excused yourself to empty the contents of your stomach, choosing a patch of bushes far enough away from camp, when you finally noticed the crunching of grass and leaves that alerted you to the fact that you had been followed. Spinning around and wiping the spit off your lips, you had tried to exude a calm demeanor, but one eyebrow raise from Tilly quickly quelled your faux confidence. You spilled immediately. Lucky for you, Tilly had many quick and easy remedies to share with you, and to this day she still teases you about the ‘bush incident’.

Sadie:

If there was one thing to know about Sadie Adler it’s that she had no tolerance for weakness. Having made that mistake at the cost of the life she had known before the gang, she had vowed to never be weak again, and sometimes that anger and pain transferred to how women handled their menstrual cycle. Because of this, a lot of the gang members kept their distance, but you were different. You had wanted to get to know her, and despite your own weaknesses, she had allowed you into her life, albeit very slowly. Sadie still had a lot of trauma to work through.

One of the more rockier aspects to your relationship revolves around your period. She had been one of those women that never really had it, which was something that wouldn’t be discussed medically until the next century, so it really became a hurdle. Sadie was less than patient, berating you with harsh words for you weak nature. She didn’t agree with how you had to abstain from the more difficult daily duties or how you couldn’t engage in a lot of the more intimate aspects of your relationship. Feelings were just a tough subject for her. This only added to your frustrations, which caused you to withdraw and speak to her with the same tone she had used on you.

Eventually you couldn’t take the rift, so you humbled yourself and asked to have a private talk. When she agreed, you pulled Sadie aside and explained how her words and actions made you feel, imploring her to understand. While it took a few more private conversations, Sadie eventually began to think that maybe dealing with a period every month wasn’t such a weak thing, but instead, something that took a lot of strength.

Karen:

It has been said many times that Karen could be a wild card, and that had been proven many many many times. Her reactions are far from predictable, so when you come up to her with your raging cramps and your favorite dress, now bloodstained, clutched in your fingers, you couldn’t guess how she would react. Would she be angry at yet another thing to wash? Would she scoff and tell you to scrub it yourself? Or would she tease you over something you really didn’t have any control over? You weren’t really sure, but for some reason you trusted her, so she was the first person you had thought to approach.

She took one look at the dress and flashed you a reassuring grin.

“Oh darlin’” She spoke sweetly, which was unusual for her. “It ain’t nothin’ to fuss about. We can fix this in no time.”

You went with her to the stream near camp and the two of you chatted as she showed you how to remove the stain from the dress, as it was not your expertise. Once she was finished, she returned the dress practically good as new and carried on her way. But not without teasing you that you’d be nowhere if it wasn’t for her fantastic skills.

MaryBeth:

MaryBeth is probably the biggest mix of innocent yet experienced, making her out to be a different individual. She was educated on many things, but a woman’s period was something that was nearly foreign to her. Since she was young, it had been a sparse event; occurring perhaps every six months, and since a woman’s body was still something of a mystery to most doctors, there had never been a reason to think anything of it.

You, on the other hand, seemed to get your period nearly every other week, which was something to be considered a curse. It left you living only for the days where you were cramp free and blood free, but even then the blood-free tended to be hard to come by considering the people you lived with. 

MaryBeth, sensing your constant discomfort, approached you during one of your ‘off’ days with a thick book. You were confused at first, but only when she sat down close to you and began to read aloud did you understand. She was reading to you in the hopes that it could distract you from your pains. At first you were skeptical, but when you started delving into the imaginary world and stopped focusing on your misery, you noticed you were enjoying life a bit more. And, the fact that you had grown closer to MaryBeth, was just an added bonus.

Susan:

Everyone knows that Susan Grimshaw is the embodiment of ferocity and loyalty, and that is something she commands in nearly every person that she considers family. Along with that, comes the rumors and gossip about her personality. If you’re going to be a force to be reckoned with, you’re bound to find people who are upset with your life motto. A lot of the other girls have told you that you can always tell when Grimshaw is menstruating because she rages for about a week, before returning to her regular grouchy self. You were always uncomfortable with their jests, considering you suffered from PMS, though not on the same scale.

After those conversations, you began to withdraw from the younger girls in the camp and spend more time observing Grimshaw. She was ferocious yes, but she had other qualities that rose to the surface just as much as the bad ones during her monthly. Love, familial bonding, and a need to clean were just a few. You couldn’t help but feel jealous. Whenever you started to show signs of bleeding, you were short-tempered and angry, which made others pull back for a few days, but no matter what you did you couldn’t command the same respect.

One day, you decided to approach Grimshaw with you inquiries. At first, she brushed you off, assuming you were up-to-no-good as most often were, but after you tailed her for a few days, she came to the conclusion that maybe you were serious after all. Grimshaw promised that she would teach you how to gain the gangs respect and to curb your tendencies that pushed them away. Maybe being under her mentor-ship would prove to be useful. Only time will tell.

Abigail:

You had never really had a close relationship with Abigail, preferring to not get yourself in the middle of her squabbles with John Marston. Their arguing was a constant in your life. Nearly everywhere you went, you were bothered by the screams and shouts that filtered through camp. You felt even worse for little Jack. If you were upset, you couldn’t even imagine how the young boy felt about everything.

It was during one of your more disagreeable periods that their shouting finally made you snap. You had marched across camp and pushed in between them, brandishing a finger and giving them a tongue-lashing that Hosea or even Grimshaw would be proud of. The two of them had been rendered speechless, but it was Abigail who had followed up.

She found you a few hours later in your tent, curled up on your sleeping mat attempting to quell the cramps, but failing miserably. You couldn’t even focus on her apologies, gronaing in response. Abigail immediately let her mother instincts take over and she was at your side in seconds, placing a hand on your forehead. You had wanted to shrug her off, but it felt nice to be taken care of for once. You allowed her to spend the day with you, bringing you food, making sure you had enough water, and encouraging you to move around whenever you felt strong enough. As the day passed you couldn’t help but think that maybe Abigail wasn’t so bad after all.

[thewhumperinwhite]

Café: Used Car Lot (2)

I’m not 100% sure this is done, but it is actual whump for once, so up it goes.

Kent has A Bad Time. Sol tries very hard to stick to his principles. Pax plays the role god gave them.

Previous: Teaser 1, Teaser 2, Hospital/Squad Car, Empty Bar, Used Car Lot 1

@whumpitywhumpwhump

TW for: noncon touching, slightly sexualized threats, knives, bad gun safety practices, guilt, mild flashbacks. Oh, also, one unintentional instance of misgendering.

Letting out an undignified “woof!” sort of sound, Sol reaches out to slam the hand that isn’t holding his makeshift bat into the sign to stop himself, forgetting that it’s the hand attached to his broken wrist. He doesn’t even have time to worry about whether anybody will hear the resulting clang because he’s too busy doubling up around his throbbing arm.

“Uh. You okay?” Kent says, struggling to keep a straight face.

Sol shoots him a dirty look. “I’m fine.” Then he leans around the sign to examine their options, feeling an excited grin creep onto his face in spite of himself. Just looking at all these shiny gently-used vehicles is sort of making his heart pound. If only he could get away with taking a bike, instead. That won’t do the two of them much good.

Not— that he’s decided he’s going with Kent. Because he hasn’t. And he probably isn’t. Almost definitely.

“Any preferences?” he says, turning to Kent, who seems a little taken aback by his enthusiasm.

“Uh— I think I’ll let you take this one,” Kent says, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender.

Maybe he does have some redeeming qualities, after all.

There are so many to choose from! Sol’s budget hasn’t left him room for even the shittiest of cars since he started living on his own, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t thought about getting one. In fact, the amount of time he’s spent fantasizing about what kind of vehicle he’ll get when he can afford one is— kind of embarrassing. Now, granted, this is a used car lot, so it isn’t like there’s anything really impressive here. And maybe it makes sense to shoot for something sort of inconspicuous, in such a hostile environment. Some sort of nondescript-colored pickup, then, maybe. He cranes his neck above the sea of cars, looking around for something that suits his needs— and maybe a few of his tastes, too, no harm in that.

Kent trails along behind him, curled in a little around his bruised and broken ribs, looking faintly miserable. With the self-justification that he’s doing the kid a favor anyway, Sol chooses to ignore this.

“Ooh!” he says, spotting a flash of red. “Here’s one!”

It’s lovely, Sol thinks, standing back to admire it. The color won’t really help them blend in, necessarily, but it’s big and sturdy enough that if anybody gives them any shit, they can just run the bastards over. Gleefully, Sol tugs the driver’s side door open and climbs up into the front seat, setting his makeshift bat on the passenger’s side.

With a relieved sigh, Kent half-collapses back against the next car over, laying a careful hand over his collarbone. Sol hadn’t really noticed the bruising there, before, but now that it’s soaked, his white t-shirt has gone sort of see-through, and his new contraband coat isn’t buttoned all the way shut. Not that Sol is looking. Necessarily.

Oh, whatever. Sol’s improved mood makes self-denial seem a little pointless. Kid has nice collarbones, bruised or not. Nothin’ wrong with observing that, he figures.

Sol turns back to the car, running both hands reverently down the steering wheel. He passed his driving test ages ago, and hasn’t had much opportunity to drive since then, excluding that one outstanding instance, which Sol can acknowledge went sort of— badly. Still, he’s fairly certain he remembers how to drive.

Pretty certain. Like, sixty, maybe fifty-five percent.

“Say,” he says, with a slightly awkward clearing of his throat, while he feels around under the steering wheel. “I know you don’t have a car, but you do know how to drive, right?”

Kent blinks up at him. He looks kind of dazed. Under his I-get-to-steal-a-car excitement, Sol feels a twinge of worry, which he hastily dismisses, because it isn’t his problem. “Uh— no,” Kent says, his eyes clearing a little as he focuses on Sol’s face. “It never really— seemed important to learn. My dad has, like, three drivers, so—”

Sol rolls his eyes. “Naturally,” he mutters. Then he crows delightedly as he finds the panel and snaps it off easily, leaning around the steering wheel to get a good look, successfully distracted.

He’s grateful Kent sort of made him take the gloves, now. Probably not smart to play around with electricity with his bare hands. Licking his lips, Sol trails his leather-covered fingers along the wires lead from the engine, and pulls them free of the ignition, enjoying the little snap.

Blinking down at the wires, Sol yanks the plastic caps off, exposing a little of each wire, then frowns, chewing at his lip thoughtfully. He misses his lip ring.

For a second, Sol thinks fucking Proux and his fucking dress code and then he thinks of a bloody hand reaching toward him and desperate pleading fading out of glassy eyes and his hand goes numb around the wires.

It’s only for a few seconds, but in that time his vision is entirely filled with Proux, dying, and his own thought a few minutes before then

(I swear to god I could about kill him sometimes)

and that’s why he doesn’t hear Kent’s alarmed cry until it’s too late to do anything much except duck down into the cab.

“Hey!” a man’s voice crows from somewhere Sol can’t see. “There’s somebody else here, man!”

Keeping his head down, Sol scrambles for his makeshift weapon. Have they seen him? Shit!

“Aw, don’t run away!” the voice calls, and is joined by the laughter of at least two other people.

“Shitshitshit,” Sol whispers. He isn’t gonna get caught crouching here like a child avoiding punishment— but if they haven’t seen him, he isn’t gonna get himself killed just because he was too proud to be smart, either.

There’s a sudden, earsplitting bang. Sol, flattening himself against the driver’s seat, has time to think in a panicked, half-hysterical sort of way that this time yesterday he wasn’t so intimately familiar with what a gunshot sounds like.

“Don’t run away, I said,” the man’s voice says, from a lot closer than it was before.

“I’m not,” Kent says softly, his voice admirably steady. He still sounds scared, though. Sol stares down at the fabric of the seat. Concentrates on the fabric of the seat and nothing else. “I’m not moving. Okay?”

“Aww, he’s scared,” a new voice says. It’s a little less cuttingly loud than the first one— through the half-closed car door, Sol can’t even tell if it belongs to a man or a woman. “It’s okay, little birdy. We won’t hurt you. Will we, Harri?”

The other man laughs once, a low, rumbling sound. Sol glances up. He can’t tell how far away they are anymore. Forcing his brain to slow the fuck down and run over the options left to him, he looks up at the half-closed door. It isn’t open very far— he left it open so he could hear Kent, and no further— but they’ll still see him hiding in here if they draw level with Kent. Fuck. Shit.

“‘Course not,” the first voice is saying. “C’mere, why don’t you?”

Sol freezes.

“I— “ Kent’s voice falters badly, but after a second to gather himself he sounds steady again. “I don’t have any problem with you. If this is— your lot, I’ll just— I’ll leave. Alright?”

“Maybe you got a little hearing problem,” the first voice says, friendly on the surface and dangerous underneath. “C’mere, I said.”

His heart in his throat, Sol risks raising his head so he can just see Kent out the window.

Kent catches his eye. Sol freezes down to his marrow. All Kent has to do is acknowledge him, and they’ll both be stuck. Shit. Shit!

Then Kent looks away, and steps carefully in the direction of the entrance to the lot, using the car to support him.

Sol’s immediate rush of gratitude is followed with a flood of shame so heavy he thinks he might throw up. He claps a shaking hand over his mouth.

“There you go,” the first voice says smugly. “Damn, you’re a lot prettier close up. What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“It— It’s Kent. Listen, sir, I— “

There’s a crash, and Kent makes a strangled sound. Sol almost presses his hands over his ears, but doesn’t quite allow it.

He’s not Sol’s problem.

“Don’t you tell me to listen, ya little shit. What are you doin’ here?”

“U-uh— I was looking for— uh!” He cuts off with a sharp gasp. Sol swallows hard, and then he forces himself to crawl over to the passenger’s seat, picking up the bat again.

If he’d taken a damn weapon, this wouldn’t have happened.

“Mm?” the man is saying curiously. “Ooh, you don’t like that much, do you?”

Kent makes a sound that is almost a scream.

“Ooh,” the second voice says, sounding interested. “That looks like a pretty nasty break, sunshine. Must hurt.”

Sol’s hand tightens convulsively on the bat. He tries to stop listening to what they’re saying and focus on the sound of their voices. They’re father away, now, and definitely on the driver’s side, somewhere. Sol forces his throbbing right hand to reach for the handle of the passenger’s side door. If he opens it slowly enough—

Kent should have been keeping watch— he was the one not fixing the car.

You have to take care of yourself in this world, because nobody else is gonna do it for you. People who don’t understand that—

“So tell me, sweetheart— you here by yourself?”

“I— y-yes.”

Sol pushes the door open as quickly as he dares and slides out onto the pavement, bat clutched in one white-knuckled hand.

People who don’t understand that—

“Really? You sure?”

There’s plenty of time to get away now, while they’re distracted. It would be stupid to do anything else. Crouching low, Sol leans around the bed of the truck so he can see.

There are three of them— a woman in a long coat who’s leaning against a car with a gun in her hand, looking bored; a person with a long red ponytail and a bright green scarf pulled up over their face, and what looks like a fucking katana slung over their back, and a big burly man in a leather jacket. The man is pinning Kent against a car with his big, thickly-muscled arm across Kent’s chest.

While Sol watches, the big man leans into him, pressing what looks like his full weight against Kent’s broken collarbone. Kent’s cry turns into an awful, choking cough.

“God— y-yes, I’m— I’m sure!”

“Really?”

“N-no one! I’m alone!”

“Hmm.” The big man runs his free hand over his chin, like he’s considering whether to believe Kent or not.

He isn’t Sol’s problem!

The person wearing the sword laughs, although they sound slightly uncomfortable. “Come on, man. I think he’s telling the truth.”

The man turns to look at them, a dangerous light in his eyes, and the scarfed person holds their grounds. Then the man shrugs, and pulls back.

Kent goes to his knees, gasping for breath.

Sol releases a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Okay. Okay. They’ll leave now. Everything is fine.

He’ll— he’ll still probably leave, though. He isn’t sure he can— imagine going back to Kent, now. Sol tries very hard not to acknowledge the sick guilt lying heavy in his guts.

“Hmm,” the big man says then. “You don’t look much like one of the crazies, sweetheart, but I think we should be sure, don’t you? How bout it, sweets--are you bit?”

“Wh-what?” Kent says weakly, looking up at him like it’s hard to lift his head. “No.”

“Are you telling me the truth, now? We wouldn’t be doing our civic duty if we let one of the crazies go wandering around the city— would we?”

“Harri,” the sword-wearer says in a low voice.

Something metal flashes in the big man’s hand. Sol’s hands tightens on his bat before he can stop them.

The big man lays the knife against Kent’s cheek. Kent is still on his knees, and his eyes when he looks up at the man are cloudy, like he’s fighting to stay awake.

“I— “ he croaks, raising a hand and stopping just short of trying to push the man’s hand away from his face. “I’m not bit, okay? Please, I just— “

“Shut up,” the man says conversationally. He pushes the knife a little harder against Kent’s cheek— the one without the scar. A few drops of blood slide down toward his jaw.

“Harrison,” the sword-wearer says, louder. “That’s enough, okay?”

“You shut up too,” the man says, a trace more irritation in his voice. “I’m the boss, and you do what I say, you got that, you freak?” He brings the knife a little further forward. Blood is flowing down the side of Kent’s face, now, getting watered down by the rain. Kent gasps, just slightly. “If I wanna kill this little shit, then I’m gonna, and there ain’t nothing you can—“

Sol swings the table leg.

There’s a really satisfying crack as it connects with the back of the big man’s skull, and he goes down like a rock, flopping over sideways and leaving behind a very surprised Kent to stare up at Sol, his blue eyes very wide. Blood has started to soak into the collar of his shirt from the cut on his cheek.

“Oh, shit!” the sword-wearer squeaks, leaping back, and they draw their ridiculous weapon with a whisper of metal against leather.

Sol turns toward them, readjusting his grip on the bat. He’d been sort of hoping that it was some sort of cheap imitation blade, but it looks awfully— sharp for that. This— this is the stupidest goddamn thing he’s ever done.

Goddamn, though. Kent really looked surprised.

No going back now, anyway. He readjusts his footing, raising the weapon like he’s standing at home plate. He’s high on more adrenaline than he’s ever felt, and it’s easy to ignore the pain shooting up from his bad wrist.

Both Sol and the sword-wearer jump pretty badly when the gun goes off again, punching a slightly smoking hole in the car window between them.

The sword-wearer, looking annoyed, flicks their eyes back toward the woman. Shit, Sol had forgotten all about her.

“Tell you what, love,” the sword-wearer says icily. “I won’t start this if you won’t.”

For a long moment the woman and the sword-wearer stare each other down. Sol, heart hammering in his ears, half-expects sparks to fly between them.

Then the woman shrugs and slides her pistol into a holster at her hip, and bends to scoop up the bloody lump that’s left of the big man. He’s definitely unconscious, and maybe dead, Sol notes, and he’s allowing himself some self-satisfaction over that one. Even if they’re both still entirely fucked, at least he’s got one really good hit in.

God he’s an idiot. Fuck. Fuck.

The sword-wearer watches the woman carry the much bigger man off, with less difficulty than it seems like she reasonably should be having, and then their eyes flick back to Sol. Sol wishes they weren’t wearing that obnoxious goddamn scarf— he can’t read their face when it’s all covered like that.

“I gotta say,” they say, and dammit, their voice isn’t any help, either. “I’m kind of impressed. It takes some doing to sneak up on me, to say nothing of the lady over there.” They nod in the direction in which the woman has disappeared. “Surprised it took you so long, though.” They tip their head, giving Sol what he can only assume is a considering look. “Seems sort of shitty of you to take so long to rescue your friend, huh?”

“Fuck you,” Sol spits, trying to ignore the guilt that twists immediately in his stomach. “We’re not even really friends.”

“Hmm. Then maybe you’re not an asshole— just an idiot,” they offer cheerfully.

“Wha— fuck you!” Sol raises the bat, leaps forward— swings—

“H-hey— wait!” Kent cries from behind him. “You can’t beat him with just a—”

The sword-wearer dances easily back out of range of Sol’s swing, and Sol’s bat slams into the window of the car next to him, instead, showering both him and Kent with shards of glass. “Shit!” he scrambles to readjust his footing. “You think I don’t know that?” he howls, and swings again. This time the sword-wearer raises their weapon exactly enough to slap Sol’s bat away with the flat of the blade. “Dammit— stop fucking with me!”

Kent is trying to get to his feet, behind him, but he falls back against the car with a cry, and struggles to raise his head to glare at Sol. “St— stop fighting, dammit! Why haven’t you— r-run away already? If you know you can’t win--shit—“ His knees give way and he falls back on his ass again, wincing. “Then just run away, Solemn! What the hell’s wrong with— “

The sword-wearer’s green eyes widen, just for a second. Seeing the opening, Sol lungers forward, and his opponent, startled, stumbles back a step. Then their eyes flash and their sword moves so fast Sol’s eyes lose track of it entirely for a second.

The flat of the blade smacks into Sol’s hand. He hears rather than sees the bat clatter to the ground and slide under a car.

The sword-wearer flicks the blade so that it rests against the side of Sol’s throat, his green eyes unreadable.

Sol stares at him, ears ringing. The blow has made his hand go numb.

“Fucking dumbass,” he mumbles. The sword-wearer blinks.

Careful not to cut himself on the blade, Sol turns his head to look over his shoulder. Kent is staring at him, sprawled in the mud— he clearly kept trying to get up, even after he fell, the idiot.

“If I could’ve just run away and left you, don’t you think I would’ve fucking done it already?” he snaps.

Kent’s eyes widen. “What do you— “

The moment is kind of ruined by the sound of slightly hysterical laughter.

The sword-wielder has to lower their blade so they can bend almost double, clutching their stomach, and positively howling, their laughter full and bright and weirdly child-like for such an ominous katana-wielding maniac.

Sol stares at them, and is horrified to find himself kind of embarrassed. “H-hey— what’s so fucking funny, asshole?”

Shaking their head, they wave a hand apologetically. “I’m— god— I’m sorry,” they say, wiping at their eyes. “It’s just that— th-that was so— aww, you two idiots are so cute!”

Sol bristles, wishing he still had his bat. “I’m— what the hell do you mean, cute?”

“Sol,” Kent says softly, pulling himself up into a sitting position, pain written in every line of his face. “I think ‘cute’ is a couple steps up from ‘dead,’ don’t you?”

“Shut up,” Sol says, and, keeping a wary eye on the enemy— who is still shaking with laughter, the asshole— he squats in front of Kent, wiping at the blood on his face with his sleeve. “This looks pretty deep, man.”

“I—“ Kent is looking very intently at the ground. “I didn’t expect you to— come back,” he says softly.

Sol stops, his hand still raised. He could cup the side of Kent’s face, if he wanted. “Yeah, I didn’t expect me to either,” he says awkwardly, looking away.

“Why did you?” Kent asks, sneaking a peek up at him, and Sol feels a flush stealing into his cheeks.

“I— I mean, I couldn’t, uh— gah!”

The sword-wearer has sheathed their weapon, and pulled the scarf down to expose a badly  scarred copper-brown face— and is now openly watching him and Kent like they wish they had some popcorn.

“Oh, don’t stop on my account,” they say brightly, waving in a please go on sort of way. Sol bristles.

“Come on,” he snaps, offering Kent a hand up, which Kent takes, and Sol pulls him to his feet, trying to be gentle without looking too much like he’s trying to be gentle. Kent leans heavily against his shoulder, but has the grace to at least look embarrassed about it.

“Okay,” Sol says, turning back to the sword-wearer and taking what he hopes looked like a fighting stance— it wasn’t like he can actually fight without throwing Kent right back on his ass, but it’s the principle of the thing, really— “What the hell’s your deal, man? Why’d you stop? You beat me!”

They wave their hand again, dismissively. They’re wearing black fingerless gloves, and Sol notes, a little dazed, that their nails are painted pink. “Well, of course I did,” they say, not unkindly. “I was a lot better armed, and apparently a hell of a lot more experienced, too. You had absolutely no chance, babe.”

Sol bristled again. Babe, my ass. “Then why didn’t you just fucking kill me, asshole?”

Grinning like a cat that had eaten several mines’ worth or canaries, they get down on their knees, reach under the car, and retrieve Sol’s bat. Sol stares at it, well and truly baffled.

“‘Cause you knew you couldn’t beat me, and you came right at me like a champ anyway, I guess.” They hold out the bat. “It was very romantic.”

Sol stares up at them. He isn’t sure there’s a word for how he’s feeling. Maybe horrified. He moves his lips to protest, but nothing comes out.

The sword-wearer grins over Sol’s shoulder at Kent. “You said your name was Kent, right, hon?” they say, their voice much softer, almost kind.

Kent winces back from it a little, and seems to regret it. “Uh— yeah, that’s right,” he says weakly. “Kent Graves.”

“Very pleased, Kent Graves,” they say cheerfully. “I’m Paxon Field, member of God’s Hammer, at your service, sir!” Then they deflate a little. “Or— former member, now, possibly. What about you, babe?”

“Romantic?” Sol demands, furiously.

“He’s Sol Michaelis,” Kent says blandly.

“So, what— you guys came here to steal a car, then?”

Sol glares at them. “Yeah, we did. What’s it to you?”

For just a second, an unreadable look flashes across their face. Then they’re all cat-smiles again. “Really,” they say cheerfully. “Either of you know how to hotwire a car?”

“Yes,” Sol says haughtily, “we do.”

“Oh, impressive!” Then they bite their scarred lip and tilt their head, so obviously trying to be coy that Sol wonders if they’re serious. “Listen— you couldn’t show me how to do that, could you?”

“What? No!” Sol snaps.

“No?” Paxon says sweetly, pouting. “The way I see it, you owe me for not killing you the second I saw you, right?”

“We don’t owe you a goddamn thing,” Sol growls, and he turns on his heel, letting Kent cling to his arm like a Victorian maiden. “Come on, man, let’s go.”

“Aww, please?” Paxon whines, skipping to keep pace with them. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise!”

“Fuck off!” Annoyed, Sol slows a little so he isn’t dragging Kent along behind him. “There ain’t a thing you have we want, asshole!”

“No?” Paxon switches from a pout to a calculating smirk so fast it’s actually fairly alarming. “You sure? You’re heading out of the city, aren’t you?” they say sweetly.

Sol falters. “So what if we are?”

“The way things are now, it’s probably mighty dangerous out there.”

“Aw, shut up! We can take care of ourselves!”

“Really?” Paxon lets his eyes trail significantly over Kent, who’s really having trouble walking, now, his breath coming in gasps. “You both can?”

Sol glares at him, beginning to feel a little uncertain.

“I’m an excellent driver,” Paxon concludes, still in step with them, and now they look positively smug.

Sol opens his mouth to refuse again— and Kent says weakly in his ear, “Come on, Sol. You think it’s worth trying to stop them, if they want to come with us?”

Sol growls. But— it’s kind of hard to argue with Kent, somehow.

[ducktracy]

133. bingo crosbyana (1936)

release date: may 30th, 1936

series: merrie melodies

director: friz freleng

starring: billy bletcher (spider)

the second cartoon that sparked a lawsuit by bing crosby himself. this one is the most well known of the two as “the lawsuit cartoon”, which i find strange—let it be me’s depiction of bing is much more defamatory and vile than bingo crosbyana’s. with that little segue: bing(o) returns as a flamboyant fly, wooing all of the flies in the kitchen. however, his act is quickly dropped once he encounters a menacing spider.

where else do flies congregate to indulge in hearty meals? pan into a kitchen. two flies share a plate of pasta, pulling a lady in the tramp before lady in the tramp was a thing (looney tunes style)—slurping on the same noodle and throwing each other together, literally butting heads. another group of flies gorge themselves on the contents of an orange, using macaroni as straws to slurp the juice out.

who knew flies suffered from poor eyesight like us boring humans? one fly fashions a safety pin and a toothpick as a bow and arrow while another poses confidently, an olive resting inside his head ready to be pierced. unfortunately, the armed fly has trouble with his depth perception, unable to focus. the other fly senses this and urges his buddy to stop before a catastrophe can occur. he marches off screen and reappears with a comically enlarged orange positioned perfectly on his tiny little cranium, now more confident than ever to be shot. his buddy fires... and still manages to miss, pinning the fly against the wall by the wings.

enter our favorite swooner crooner, bingo crosbyana. i love the staging, playing around with shadows and silhouettes is an easy way to earn my appreciation. a group of girls crane their necks to get a good view of the source of those warm, warbly tones. a sombrero-donning silhouette of a fly strolls into view, strumming a guitar and crooning his way along. one fan situated in a wall mounted matchbox is particularly smitten with bingo. however, her mother isn’t as pleased, marching out and dragging her inside by the ear, finally pouring a teacup of water over bingo’s shadow. warm crowd!

segue into a formal introduction of the title song as a trio of girls sing the chorus. they’re accompanied by various visual and instrumental gags all contributing to the samba beat of the music. i have to say—friz’s merrie melodies are way under appreciated, especially during the dark ages of the buddy cartoons. carl stalling is undoubtedly the best composer the studio had, but friz’s collaborations with bernard brown and norman spencer’s music make for a wonderful pair. even if the visuals aren’t exciting to match the music, you can always count on music to be saving grace, even in the worst of cartoons (not that this is bad! just an aside.) bingo himself gets spruced up, dousing himself in perfume and admiring his reflection in a tin pan.

bingo grabs his guitar and meets his bobbysoxers, tipping his hat with a bow and contributing his own voice to the song. once the song is concluded he silences the applause with a hand: “alright, alright. you ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”

with that, bingo flies into a table, where he uses it as a plane runway, soaring around the kitchen like a literal airplane. speaking as a lady myself, this is how you impress the ladies, folks! take notes! he zooms around the kitchen (the scene amplified in humor by the ridiculous plane sound effects), swerving in and out of the caverns that lie in swiss cheese, speeding over a crowd and nearly taking off the heads of a bunch of angry fly-men, swiping off the feathers of a cuckoo bird (returning the way he came to take off one last tail feather), un-threading the buttons off of some flies’ pants with a needle, and so forth. some nice classic bit of looney humor as bingo writes “how’m i doin” in a trail of smoke produced from a match he striked. the camera angles are fun and experimental, and the animation as he finally skids to a halt on the kitchen table is smooth, bouncy, and mesmerizing.

all of the girls are enamored with bingo, whereas the men are seldom pleased. bingo surveys his crowd of adoring fans, selecting one of the girls from the crowd as his dance partner. we enter a second chorus of “bingo crosbyana”, vocals still fresh and fun. he and his girl engage in a dance sequence that is particularly pleasing to look at. very flouncy, swingy, and smooth, and pairs very well with freleng’s timing. some fun added in as a fly scratches his back on the rough side of a matchbox to the beat of the music. the girls all applaud the dance, while the men grumble and point.

a favorite of any cartoon: the billy bletcher spider (this will still be an ongoing trope). a menacing spider lowers himself down to the table where bingo and his girl are positioned. the girl spots the spider and shrieks, which grabs bingo’s attention. a great visual as bingo is literally scared yellow (old slang for being frightened, typically in a mocking way: “what, are ya yellow?” yellow-bellied is another derivative), temporarily stricken with jaundice as he darts away from the spider and frightening speed, much to the bewilderment of his fans.

with bingo out of the way, his girl is now vulnerable, screaming as she desperately attempts to dodge the nefarious clutches of the belly laughing spider. some crowded (but in a suitable way) animation as he weaves his way through the gaggle of terrified women, going for anyone he can grab. all of the women dive into a roll of wax paper for refuge, and even cowardly crosbyana pokes his head out of a nearby teacup, diving into the roll himself and effectively knocking out all of the girls from the other end, putting them in danger as the spider nears.

the spider sticks his head inside the roll of wax paper, and the men who had grumbled and cursed at bingo before work together to save him. they snag a nearby mixer and work together to get it spinning, striking the spider painfully right in the butt repeatedly. fueled with new motives, the aggravated arachnid chases after the men, cornering one straggler in particular. the straggler pops open a bottle of champagne, the cork pressing right up against the spider and shooting him across the kitchen, landing right into an electrical cord.

sure enough, the spider is stuck. another fly turns the cord on, and the spider is flooded with painful volts of electricity as he rockets into the air in agony. the plug becomes loose and the spider flops down to the ground, right onto a piece of fly paper. victory at last! the flies crowd around to laugh and jeer as they observe the spider helplessly attempting to dig and crawl his way out of the paper to no avail.

now hearing laughter instead of screams, bingo pops his head out of the wax paper and senses that the coast is clear. he perched himself on a nearby spoon to get a good look for himself at the events he had missed. more than pleased, bingo grins and puffs out his chest, hilariously boasting “well, we certainly got him this time!”

he’s met with angry glares from all genders, and a fly jumps on the other end of the spoon in retaliation. bingo is catapulted into the air, crash landing in a full teacup, where we iris out on his bewildered expression.

as i mentioned before, i found let it be me to be much more defamatory than this one. not that defamation is inherent to the quality of a cartoon, but i DO find the former to be the better entry. but that isn’t to say this is a bad cartoon by any means. it certainly echoes the lady in red in terms of designs and characters, and both this and the lady in red have its charm. bingo was amusing (that ending is fantastic, as is the scared yellow gag) and the animation in the cartoon was particularly beautiful. however, it felt more like a 1935 cartoon than a 1936 cartoon (there is a difference!), at times feeling a bit barren and stretched out. yet overall, not a bad short. it wasn’t the funniest or most fascinating, but the dance sequences in particular were entertaining to watch. 50/50 in terms of recommendation. it wouldn’t be a total waste of a watch, but it wouldn’t kill you if you avoided it, either. it’s always up to your call!

link!

[smolbeandrabbles]

Humility: Almost Easy/Power & Control - Dave x Reader (Lost River)

Hahahahahhahahaa...  Author’s Note: Okay. I chose Dave of all the suggestions for 2 reasons. 1, I had more of a plot for him. 2, Nolan was the most requested - but I’m working on something similar for him that I assure you won’t be disappointing sequel to Sugar, anyone? As for Vince... Well... Damn. I’ll work on it. SO! It’s a two song fic because I really liked the song @sufferthesea​ sent along for Dave: Power & Control - Marina and the Diamonds AND this AX7 gem Almost Easy worked for this particular premise too... So you better consider it added to the Dave playlist. ** Idea credit to Amanda, because she took my thought and then flipped it a little and added some details so I can’t say this one is whole-y mine. Disclaimer: Lost River came from the (obviously slightly mad) brain of Ryan Gosling / Gifs & lyrics not mine. Premise:  Some of Dave’s performers are fed up with his attitude. It’s time for them to teach him some humility. And they figure that asking his favourite to do this for kicks makes their plan flawless... You’ll agree to do it, for a price.  Words: 4083 Warnings: It’s Dave... come on...  / Swearing / Sexual Connotations / Very subtle dom/sub tones - but also present in both songs.

__________ I feel insane every single time I'm asked to compromise 'Cause I'm afraid and stuck in my ways And that's the way it stays So how long did I expect Love to outweigh ignorance? By that look on your face I may have forced the scale to tip Shame pulses through my heart From the things I've done to you It's hard to face but the fact remains That this is nothing new... I'm losing the fight, I've treated you so wrong Now let me make it right I'm not insane, I'm not, not insane… Come back again, it's almost easy (You learned your lesson) Come back to me, it's almost easy (It's still your fault) Come back again, it's almost easy… --- Power & control I'm gonna make you fall Power & control I'm gonna make you fall Women and men, we are the same But love will always be game We give and take a little more Eternal game of tug and war Think you're funny, think you're smart Think you're gonna break my heart Think you're funny, think you're smart Yeah, you may be good-looking but you're not a piece of art ---

noun

the quality of having a modest or low view of one's importance.

Whispers spread like wildfire. You expected that from the second you got on stage. Bitchy bickering. Or complaining you guessed? It always happened when Dave caught your eye, or your wrist after your act was finished. “Meet me later...” You knew what that meant well enough. You didn’t need him to tell you. Mind you, Dave caught your arm so often his fingerprints might as well have been imprinted into your skin.

It wasn’t that they were jealous of you. Probably the contrary; that didn’t stop the whispers though. And tonight, as you changed, they seemed to be a little louder than usual; “I mean who the hell does he think he is-!? Walking around like he’s better than us?!” “Like he owns the place!” “He does own the place... but still, fair point. We do all the hard work!!” “People come for us - he only ever sings!” “And that’s only on bloody occasion too - not every night!” “We have way better work ethic-! I bet he doesn’t even PAY us fairly.” “I bet he pays himself better than us.” “...Well, he might pay some of us well then...” they all turned around to you, and you saw that from your mirror. You sighed, here we go again. Couldn’t be for love... had to be for money... You supposed it might not even have been for love... maybe just for company... but he wasn’t paying you for your time. They turned back around, whispered muttering you couldn’t hear that made you focus back on your mirror.  You caught the paper tacked there out of the corner of your eye. Dave’s writing; “Room 3”. You took a deep breath. A little part of you was always a little nervous about it. Dave had very distinct moods; if this wasn’t a good one, it might give you problems... “Oh! Y/N..!” They turned back to call your name and you turned, pressing you lips together to even out the lipstick; “Mm?” “Come here a second.” You sighed and stood; this could only be bad. “What’s wrong?” “Nothin’, yet. You seein’ Dave tonight?” Well, they knew you were so it was a stupid question. But they wanted affirmation. “Yes...” “We got an idea...” You didn’t like this one bit already, “Right...” “But we need your help.” You folded your arms, eyes narrowed in suspicion; “Why?” Rob gave you a look like you were dumb; “Because you’re his favourite! He trusts you.” No, you thought, you were his favourite right now. Next week that could all change, especially if someone newer younger and prettier walked in. Dave was always down to seduce the next big thing. “...Well what is it?” “Well, you agree. He thinks he’s great. Right?” “Yeah.” He did, on occasion, get this smug kinda swagger about him that annoyed you.  Clearly not as much as it annoyed them though. “And it’s getting a little out of hand?” “Maybe.” you didn’t want to seem decisive on this “Maybe?! C’mon Y/N don’t be amicable - he thinks he can do whatever the f*** he wants. We gotta stop this before we can’t anymore.” “Well what do you want me to do?!” “He taking you to a room tonight?” You glanced back to your mirror “Yes.” “Give him a taste of his own medicine.” “How?!” “What room?” “Three.” They all looked at each other for a minute, and suddenly you didn’t like the smirks they were all giving each other; “Shells, huh?” That didn’t really bother you. Dave had a remote, sure, but you knew him. “Yes?” You wondered where this was going. “Lock him in one.” “What?!” that sounded about as crazy as they all looked. “Yes! That’s such an excellent idea!!” “You guys do realise the lock mechanism keeps you safe right? And that he has a remote system too?” Rob tipped his head knowingly “Aw, like as if a girl like you can’t wrangle the remote from him?” You frowned at that - yeah, you guessed he had a point. “And… what am I doing this for?” Kat scoffed; “yourself for one!” You almost dared shoot her a look, but Rob cut in before the cat fight could start “The good of all your friends here! Our eternal gratitude? To feel good! Put him in his place? Y/N the list is endless!” You noticed no one was offering up a monetary reward! You shook your head with a smirk; “Okay. But I’m getting bragging rights for at least a year, I get a longer routine AND-!” You put your hands on your hips and turned to Rob, “I get to be the MC. At least a couple of times.” “Well, you gotta prove you did it.” Your smirk only grew; there’s one-way glass isn’t there? You’re welcome to watch.” All of them opened their mouths, hesitated, and looks appeared on their faces which let you know they realised exactly what that would entail. “Bring us the remote and any other proof you can. We’ll take it.” “Alright, you’re on...” you held out your hand to shake; Rob took it, and everyone else grabbed your handshake. You winked; “You guys better be thinking of how many precious seconds you can shave off... I’m coming for them.”

 ** Only that meant by the time the show was over, and pretty much everyone had left. Except the huddled group, because they wanted to make 100% you were going to go ahead with this; you were even more nervous. You could do it sure, but did you want to? Dave was good to you, forward sure - but a good man. And he took care of everyone here. Even if he had a kinda self-important attitude. Still, you saw their point completely. He usually got what he wanted; there was something alluring about him, and you probably weren’t the only girl he’d taken an interest in working here. You’d heard the words ‘Dave Situation’ often enough. In fact you probably weren’t the only girl he was seeing right now. But, you were his favourite.  Apparently.

He stood watching you wait patiently for a few minutes. Leaning on the door frame, with a smile. Such a good girl. But Dave knew that already. He scanned the room, frowning a little at those still loitering. He knew who had clients tonight and who didn’t.  That caused him slight annoyance as he stepped into the dressing room, calling your name. You turned instantly with a sweet smile and he walked towards you. Dave had an energy almost unreadable, that uncertainty gave him power and he knew it. His eyes traced the group who had allowed pause in their talking; “You can go home, right?” He looked between them, “I don’t pay you to stand around here, you don’t earn commission chatting either. Go home. Get rest.” “Yeah we know what we need to do to get paid around here.” You didn’t visibly wince at that obvious shot at what was about to happen between you and Dave; but he simply furrowed his eyebrows. Saying nothing he turned back to you; “You ready?” “Mmm!” You nodded and stood gracefully. “Good... let’s go.” You turned to the group again with a wink; watch this!!

 * 

You always thought that the electronic female voice telling you to play safe was a tad ironic, considering the catered to audience. And you thought that shell safety was a little bit of a joke too. Dave, after all, did have a remote that overrides the lock in system. Who said he didn’t have more he could give out for the right price? You wouldn’t have thought he would though. Even Dave didn’t seem like the kind of man who would put you in danger for money. He waited for the lock to click in place on the entry door and then was on you. Leaving you little-to-no time to take a breath, you found yourself pushed up against the wall in less than seconds. You weren’t wearing a heck of a lot anyway, but your thin coverup didn’t last long - floor - you weren’t about to let him get away with something like that without going for it yourself. Where the hell would he keep his remote, though...? Maybe you could get him to give that information up... You made sure to let him know you didn’t want him wearing his suit jacket too long either - floor. He’d already done the work on his top two buttons, allowing you to push his shirt collar back and kiss his neck.   You got a kick out of the sounds he made, and the way he gripped your hips tighter “...Y/N...” Oh! Well, if you could keep him saying your name like that... You bit him just hard enough, and pushed him back. When he conceded a step you knew this would be easy... it couldn’t have been many to the shell, push him in and lock it, and your work was done.

But Dave wanted your lips back on his. So he pulled you to him, hands running as much of your body as was within reach with you pressed up against him like this. Oh god- Dave... Yes-! He knew exactly what he was doing. He’d certainly never wasted his time with getting in tune with you. Okay, so what if you pulled him to the shell, if you lulled him into a false sense of security... You turned him, tugging him closer to you by his shirt. And your moans were are real as his were. He’d deny you his fingertips if he thought he could. There was nothing quite like the way he touched you. Dave chuckled, as he realised where you were heading. “My, my, so eager?” “Yes...” you pitched your voice at just whiny and needy enough for him to give it to you. “Good girl.” ...c’mon a few more feet... You paused just in front of it and broke his trial of kisses. “What?” You looked between his eyes; it was strange to think that for once this man had no idea what was coming.  You shook your head, kissing him again - this only soft and gentle... and you knew you were asking for forgiveness before you’d even done what you were going to. You took his hands in yours, turning him on the spot. Perfect. Best guess on where the remote was and you could do this; and it’s not like he would mind your hands on his body. But that kiss confused him. Being so different from the rest as it was... he didn’t have time to quiz you though; because you pulled him again, this time undoing a few more buttons, you ran your hands down his body. That picked his groan back up. He wouldn’t have dared leave his remote in his jacket... that ruled that out. It wasn’t in his shirt pocket... that left his pants. And Dave was left handed. “...Careful...” his whispered against your lips as your hands had to run that low; “...don’t make me call you a bad girl just yet...” Only he would be. Considering. The second you found it you broke the kiss - and pushed him. It was pretty hard and athletic for you, but still.  He realised what you’d done far too late and the door closed on him.

At first he sighed, and then laughed; “Oh I see...” but he didn’t. “Funny... let me out.” You at least gave a playful shake of your head “Y/N... don’t make this hard on yourself...” your eyes flicked to his hands searching his pockets. He still thought he had the upper hand. And there was a sick sort of pleasure in watching his face change as he realised he didn’t. “Wh-!” You held the remote up; “Looking for this?” He slammed his hands on the plexiglass - clearly unimpressed. “C’mon, Y/N!” You at least laughed a little, folding your arms “Nah, I think it’s good for you...” Dave’s face changed again, and you’d never seen him look so vulnerable; “W...why??” Your eyes flicked to the club above your heads; “They all think you need a taste of your own medicine. I say they probably have a point...” you threw the remote behind you. You wouldn’t need it for at least a minute; “... I have to watch you... now you have to watch me...”  You tilted your head “...The crew thinks you think you’re too good for us. Guess you have that air, but just because you’re in charge doesn’t mean...” you weren’t even sure Dave was listening as he looked around the enclosed space you’d now trapped him in. If he was looking for an escape route, you could happily confirm for him there wasn’t one. You continued “...I guess they think you have an attitude problem they’d like you to tone down... Me? I’m just not sure I hold your attention... or could ever hope to hold it... and I’m not sure how that makes me feel. But certainly not good. You can’t always do whatever you want and expect it not to have... consequences...”

 Dave sounded like he was laughing, half hysterically. Like all the words you were saying meant nothing. All jokes for him. Only you realised with horror he wasn’t laughing. Dave was having a full on panic attack. SHIT HE’S CLAUSTROPHOBIC!!?! “Oh my god!! Shit!!!” You turned around; with the nonchalant way you’d chucked the remote it could be anywhere and you, nor he, really had the time for you to waste. “Shit! Dave! Just hold on!!!” Damn the seedy lighting in these rooms!! Eventually it glinted at you from a corner and you couldn’t run to it quick enough. Running back to the shell you never thought you’d heard anything that gave you as much relief as Shell Unlocked

Dave all but collapse into yours arms; gripping you tight. “Baby... baby... hush... hush. It’s okay... it’s okay, I’m here...” you sank down onto your knees, cradling him close to you with soothing tones; “Breathe... sweetheart... just breathe...” if you could regulate his breathing, hopefully you could help him calm down. ...well that wasn’t exactly the humble kind of attitude you expected to evoke. Sure you wanted him to meekly beg you, before you to let him out with an agreement that he’d bend to what the guys wanted. So you could put him on his knees and call him a good boy and feel whatever power he did. But this was more like humiliation. And you weren’t so sure he deserved that.  Also, causing a panic attack was the last thing you’d wanted. That was such an awful thing to do. You had a sudden horrific thought; did they know??! Had they asked you to do this because they knew?! It took him a little while to calm down, and he was still clinging onto you even then. “I’m so sorry...” Dave shook his head gently; “Is that how you feel...?” He nodded to the shell “...when you step in that?!” “I’m not claustrophobic, so no. I’m fine... but Dave I’m sorry. If I had any idea...” “That’s why they asked you to do it, isn’t it. Because you didn’t know.” “They do?!” your heart sank and you felt slightly sick – they really had come up with this plan to set off his claustrophobia then… But they didn’t think of you either, did they just expect you to let it happen to him and laugh it off? It hurt you that you’d hurt him. “They probably have some idea...” his breathing was still deep; “Did you mean what you said?” You ran your hands through his hair “We don’t have to talk about that...” “On the contrary... I thought you put me in there to talk about it...” He let out a small laugh “...Good negotiation tactic, I’ll give it that.” You moved your hands slowly as you dared down to his chest. To feel his pulse, under your fingertips - the way it was calming down. Thank Goodness.

Dave lay in your arms in silence for a good while; his only movement a shift to get more comfortable... and his hands found yours, clasping them with a gentle, dare you say affectionate, squeeze.  You bent your body and kissed his forehead with care, making his eyes flick to your face and one hand reach up to touch your cheek. “What are you staying here for?” “I’m staying for you. I want to make sure you’re okay.” He shook his head, with a chuckle that seemed almost out of place; “Is that what it is?” “Mmmm…” You couldn’t help but place your hand over his and fit your fingers between the spaces in his own. “You’re a good girl.” “I...” you wouldn’t disagree, neither would you agree with him. You just humbly bit your lip and dipped your head a little more; “...Can I get you out of here...?” He let you help him get to sitting up and then you stood together - still holding hands that way. “Yeah... sure. What you thinkin’...?” “Room 5?” Even he raised his eyebrow at your suggestion of the bedroom. “Why?” “It’s a little more comfortable that the floor...” you nodded to the shell, “It’s considerably lacking in claustrophobic spaces...” Dave chuckled again; “Aw, she’s good and smart too...” This time you conceded quietly; “I try my best...”

 **

 Your idea with bringing him in here had nothing to do with taking your clothes off. This was much more neutral; it would give him a safe(r) space to just calm down, chat... rest easy...

You shut the door and waited for it to click into a locked position. Please play sa- “SHUT UP!!!” You chided the female voice with annoyance and turned back to him; “Seriously? Do you know how annoying that thing is?!? And talk about IRONIC!!” He sat on the edge of the bed and threw his jacket over the chair “...It’s supposed to be fun! But I’ll take it into account...” Dave ran a hand through his greying hair, and loosened two or three more of his shirt buttons. “But I don’t like your use of the word ironic...” “Safe is about the last word I would use sometimes... this room...” You folded your arms, watching the way his fingers grazed against the fabric of his shirt a little too closely. Ah! Maybe this was a bad idea! You shook the thought away “…This one is something different. This is what goes on between you and me... but the shells, and some of these other rooms. Because of the barriers, I reckon people think they can do whatever they want without consequence.” You walked over to him slowly “Just because I know I’m locked in there, doesn’t mean I feel safe if someone is screaming things I’d rather not repeat, and trying to get me out...” Dave looked a little perplexed at that; and you figured he either was pretending he didn’t know, or he simply thought if he ignored it it wasn’t happening. But his gaze dropped from yours as you sank onto the bed next to him, so you knew he was taking responsibility for it in his head. As he should - as the establishment owner. “I’m...” “Sorry?” You shook your head “It’s a little late for both of us to say that tonight... don’t you think.” “Why didn’t you tell me?” He places his hands on your thighs, over where your own were resting. “Would you have listened?” You gave him a hard look, to let him know you weren’t messing around when you said that. He gave a sigh “...I wish I wasn’t even considering that I might not...” You tipped his chin back with your fingertips, so his eyes faced you; “...We both have a few things to work on, huh?” “What do you have to-!” You placed your finger to his lips; and you got a few seconds satisfaction of having them back on your skin; “I should never have agreed to do it...” He took your hands in his again - he wanted that physical connection too, it seemed - and those grey-blue eyes studied you; “...God, I must be truly awful for you to agree to do this...”

 You weren’t sure he was. That was the problem. Maybe he had good intentions that just didn’t work out. Of all the men you’d interacted with here (besides your colleges), Dave was the only one who cared, and took care of you. Who made you glad that you got to be here with him... and even more glad no one else could. You gave a gentle shrug “Maybe I had stupid selfish reasons...” Dave caught on straight away; “You think I’m seeing someone else.” “Are you?” You tried to not look so hopeful that he’d deny it. “It’s not... like this...” that confused you; because it was neither a yes or a no... You bit your lip “I don’t share well...” That only made him sigh again; “Seems we share that problem.” “Who is she?” “Not you...” “That’s not an answer.” “I know. It’s much less than you deserve. But I am also not at liberty to say...” That had you turning away from him, so he pulled you back - “Y/N... I promise you... you are the only girl I am intent on actively seeing.” “Good. Because I’ll put you in the box again and throw away the remote otherwise.” There was a stalemate of staring for a moment; Dave cracked first; “And... that would be fair...”

The sexual chemistry of the evening had long since passed, and he looked like he was doing a lot better... but you still craved some of that promised intimacy. “Will you hold me..?” “Now?” He opened his body to you; allowing you to wind your arms around him and thread your legs with his “Of course... it is the least you deserve...” Dave could say that all he wanted... but it was obvious he needed it as bad. When he felt you were secure around him, he lay back on the bed; caressing your hair he whispered gentle apologies against your skin. You closed your eyes gently to that - and this once; because of the feeling of him against you like this - you wouldn’t tell him they weren’t good enough.   “Ah-! Shoot!” You broke the silence in a way that had him laughing “What...?” His voice was still soft, and he pressed kisses into your forehead. You opened your mouth with a breath, and then covered it; “No! You know I still feel terrible..! Buuuut...” “Buuuut..?” He repeated with a smile “... I promised them I’d prove I did it...” you muttered with a pout “...Gosh, I’m awful...” Dave snorted “Okay, darling, where’s your proof coming from?” You tipped your head, and couldn’t resist the tease; “Guess you walking in tomorrow looking a little shaken would do the trick, huh?” “Don’t push it...” he growled gently, tracing his kisses across your cheek and jawline “...I said I’d get the remote...” He pulled back, eyebrow raised; “How would that prove it?” “I have it, which means I got it from you and locked you in there, as dictated by the plan...” He propped himself up on his elbow and couldn’t help but look amused “...oh, really? Interesting...” “Uh huh. But that means asking for it back...” “Oh.” He shrugged “Take it... you deserve your proof...”

You were surprised by that - he’d just been through a personal hell but he was still going to tell you win? “Oh you don’t need-” “Consider it a favour. I owe you enough, don’t you think...?” Dave ran his thumb over your lips as he held your chin to keep your gaze on his. “Y-Yes...” you couldn’t help but respond that way to the glint in his eyes. And he went back into his pocket; holding out the remote for you. He chuckled; “You go prove to them you did... I’ll go work on myself... and we’ll go from there. What do you say?” You smiled, taking the remote gently from his hand and looking back to him, lacing your fingers with his once more; you asked him for a kiss and he granted you with what you wanted. Pushing his forehead to yours he kept you barely millimetres apart, tangled up together. “I think... that’s a good idea.”

--- Thank You For Requesting!! We are ALL 7 Virtues down! 🎉 2 Sins to go! @dennismitchell  @happyskywhale @wltz-bby #MendoTagSquad. 💜❤💙