#of that out the window and went with the most obvious surface level choices and it's like. i see the embroidery on those keftas

[bitchthefuck1]

Who would you cast as Kaz? How about all the Crows?

You're going to be disappointed in this answer, but my preference would be to go with a cast of unknown/newer actors, which inherently means that I can't give you a cast list :/ idk I just feel like that would be the best choice for the story practically and thematically.

That being said, I honestly feel like the best way to adapt soc would be in animation. I know that would literally never happen, but in general when it comes to stories with very vibey worlds and magic systems I feel like animation is almost always the best way to go. It's really easy for the sets and costumes to look cheap or super generic in live action, and that's even more true for any effects for the magic system. Soc has such a unique flavor and atmosphere that even if an adaptation had, like, game of thones money and an insane powerhouse creative team, it's just really hard for me to see it getting done right in live action.

[brighterdaysarebeforeus]

Hobie is not having a fun time right now. (>.<)

Also sorry for the delay in this, I got stuck elsewhere, hahaha.

@hobiesgender @royallydivinelesbian

Masterlist

Hobie was far from mad; he was furious. Enraged. So overcome with a burning, molten anger that he couldn’t figure out what to do with it right at that current moment.

He tilted his head back against the surprisingly cool stone of the cell, glaring up at the ceiling. The stone didn’t provide a lot of light, obviously, that was coming from the setting sun hitting the window just right, but that didn’t particularly matter to Hobie right at this moment. He had been put in a holding cell, all by himself, a temporary place to stay until either his death sentence or his permanent relocation to an actual prison; apparently the Royalists weren’t entirely sure what to do with him just yet. There was no physical evidence, apparently, of Hobie managing to kidnap the prince from the castle, no video evidence either; just the word of some scientist who clearly wasn’t even sure if she’d seen Hobie or not, and couldn’t even remember roundabouts when she was supposed to have seen him.

And the kicker was, Hobie never went near the palace! He hated the place with a passion, the obvious riches that went to the Royal family while the city closest to them suffered from poverty, the way it fell on him and his crew to keep their people from going hungry or giving them directions to keep them from sleeping on the streets. There was no way he would ever go anywhere near the place, and no way he would have any idea what to do with the prince if he’d ever found the kid in his possession (so to speak) —

Except, apparently, he had had the prince running with him and his crew.

That was the thing, wasn’t it, that was the whole thing that sort of tore Hobie up the most. He’d trusted Michael, let him get close. Not even just close to him, but close to his family. Showed him their hiding spots, got him involved in his community, let him be a part of their group with welcoming smiles and open arms. Hobie had considered the possibility that the kid was some kind of sheltered, some kind of worker for the palace, because it was obvious; it was obvious in the way he’d interacted with the people, with the way Michael had stared around them as they walked the city, there was no way he’d grown up anywhere but in comfort, and Hobie had been fine with that. He’d had something in place to keep Michael with him, with them, long term, because despite his obvious naivety Hobie had actually really liked the kid, but all that went out the window the second Miguel had pinned him to the ground. It was one thing for Michael to have come from a serving family in the castle, but for him to be the actual prince —

The door to the left from him clanged open. Hobie didn’t move. Footsteps made their way briskly down the hallway, and he closed his eyes as if that would put off whatever was about to happen. He wasn’t in the mood, he didn’t want to deal with it, but he didn’t have a choice; the footsteps stopped in front of him, silence echoing loudly between him and whoever was in front of him currently. Hobie kept his eyes shut.

“You’re not even going to look at me?”

“Nah.” Hobie shifted so he was a little more comfortable against the wall. She didn’t sound mad, or annoyed; she actually sounded kind of amused, and so Hobie decided that his full attention wasn’t necessarily needed. Miguel would’ve been spitting, he knew that much, or he’d be overly gloating about the fact that he’d finally caught Hobie. “No need, is there? News’s gonna be bad either way. Don’t gotta look at you for that, do I?”

Honestly, he blamed Margo; she was the one who pointed out his luck would run out, that little brat, and it looked like it finally had. He was gonna miss her.

(He had to blame Margo; it was the only surface level thought that kept him from blaming Michael — Miles — because he didn’t want to focus on anger right now, in what could potentially be his last minutes. He wanted to think about his crew, the good times he had with them. He blamed Margo because it was easier, because he didn’t actually blame her for the situation he’d gotten himself in at all.)

“What if it’s not bad news?” Hobie’s eyes drifted open at that, but he didn’t look down at the woman in front of him. He stared up at the ceiling, frowning as he took in the words and mulled them over. She pressed her advantage as he did so, he could hear her leaning on the bars now. “I could help you out, get you out of here. You don’t have to go down for this.”

“No vengeance on the renegade teen who kidnapped your precious prince?” Hobie sneered, his eyes flickering as he forced himself to keep staring upwards at the ceiling. He wouldn’t look at her, he wouldn’t; listening to this woman was likely only going to get him into more trouble, and nothing was worth that. “No righteous judgement upon the poor, lowly kid who dared to even look his way for the smallest of moments?”

“We both know that wasn’t what happened, don’t we?” His eyes dropped at that, staring at the woman through the bars she was leaning against even as he didn’t move a muscle; she had big, bushy hair that was barely being held back by a headband, dark clothes and boots on. She looked thin, in that way people get when they get too engrossed in their work and forget to eat, and she was staring at him intently through big round glasses. His mouth went a bit dry at the implication she was tossing his way oh so casually. “You’ve never come within a fifty foot radius of this place before now, have you?”

“How do you know?” Hobie asked, but his defiance was dwindling the longer she stood in front of him. She smiled, but it wasn’t kind or friendly in any sense of the words; it set Hobie’s teeth on edge a bit. “I could be here every other night, just skulking around.”

“But you’re not.” She pulled a file from seemingly out of nowhere, standing up straight as she leafed through it. “Hobart Brown” and he gagged at his name, obvious and loud and echoing in the space between them, but she kept on, “wanted for misdemeanor things. Squatting, petty thievery, some defacing public property — ”

“Oi, hold on,” Hobie dropped forward now, leaning his elbows on his knees as he stared her down, “there was no defacing any sort of public property — ”

“The point,” she said as she snapped the file shut, “is that all that little stuff? Not important, in the long run. Not in any way that really matters, right?” Hobie fell silent, pressing his lips together. She took his silence as an answer and pressed on. “Any other thing you’d get caught for, you’d get a slap on the wrist and nothing else. Maybe a day or two, in holding, but that’s it. That’s nothing, honestly, back out on the streets with your friends in no time. But this.” She leaned on the bars again, staring down at Hobie. “You could potentially hang for this, kid. This is some real trouble you’ve gotten yourself into here.”

They sat in silence for a moment, the lady staring down at Hobie, who mulled everything over in his mind. His jaw worked as he thought, tongue playing with the ring circling his lower lip. The kicker was, she wasn’t entirely wrong and he knew it; he just didn’t want to give in so easily because he wasn’t entirely sure where this was going or what she wanted from him. It made him uneasy, but…he didn’t really want to face the consequences of “kidnapping the prince” when his only real crime was taking in some random kid he’d found off the streets. It wasn’t his fault that he was so willing to help his community.

“What’s the catch?” He asked, and the lady smiled.

[worldsover]

Judgement to the Desiccated ft. Karina

length ✦ 5573

genres ✧ sm type future; asphyxiation; blackmail; virtual_servant!Karina;

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Air did a poor job of not being polluted so Lee Soo Man flooded the world instead. The man himself certainly must be long gone and could not have been in charge of that decision but the legacy of his company far exceeds the legacy of any other human collective in history. Once on this planet, gas was the fluid of choice for respiration and breathing was an unconscious reflex. Now there’s Aether by SM. How very on-brand of them to have the liquid air you breathe follow perfume naming conventions.

Open your eyes and exit the sleeping chamber. Aether has you work for each inhalation, it desaturates the color of the bedroom—maybe there’s a subtle but uncomfortable tinge of yellow—and it makes your nose itch. Your muscles wield much less force than they used to because of the lack of resistance the fluid provides. Moreover, it smells like hairspray as though the ozone layer is taking sardonic revenge.

Screens impersonating windows track your eyes to ensure realistic parallax, playing the scene of divine blue heavens that could not exist. An azure sky is a reward for those planets that have an atmosphere and a sun for light to scatter. Your walls are either chrome or drywall white and your whole bedroom is plainly decorated just like the day you moved in.

“Etymology of bedroom,” you think out loud, though it falls on no ears.

“Bedroom is a compound noun consisting of bed and room. Bed goes back to Old English bedd ‘sleeping place, plot of ground prepared for plants,’ which goes back to the Germanic-”

Plants and sleep are both strong words to use nowadays. The former doesn’t exist in nature and it seems you’re the only one who bothers with the latter. Faint buzzing distracts you from the AI’s response and signals you to the nano drones that swim throughout the liquid to process carbon dioxide from your lungs. This whole ordeal could’ve been much worse if you didn’t have brain interfaces doing the hard part of controlling your diaphragm. The most you need is a purposeful thought. Still, it gets tiring having to think the same thought every three seconds. In. Out.

Was the metaphorical Soo Man teaching a lesson in perseverance? You love K-pop and imagine it’s how trainees used to practice dancing, singing, being charismatic. Being an idol had to be as natural as breathing air. Inhale and exhale. Right now with any antiquated programming language you clung on to, you could write a single for loop that did the same job. For every three seconds: breathe in, breathe out.

“What’s for breakfast today?” Not loud enough. “What’s for breakfast?” you think it louder.

“Welcome, master. Ae-Karina is ready for service.” It’s quite a kindness for SM to blur the bland dystopia you live in by augmenting reality through your neural device. A bosomy woman in a gold-lined but otherwise modest maid outfit appears from the corner of your eye and she bows. Ae-Karina is bewitching and almost becoming of her basis as its graphics have gradually upgraded over the rotations but you wouldn’t misconstrue the avatar as human.

“I said, what’s for breakfast!” It feels impolite to scream in your head, there’s other residents there, but finally the fridge lights up.

“Of course master. May I remind you eating is unnecessary?”

In. Out. Every day, she does remind you, yes. How kind of the company to put all your nutritional requirements in the new air. Aether goes in then Aether goes out. You wish the thoughts of breathing could fade into the background but they’re just like your cravings for food. Always hungry but never starving, whole though not once satisfied. Your eyes pause at her gorgeous face and she tells you there’s bacon. Take it from your fridge. Bacon goes in. Well, the drones take care of the out.

Your assigned living space is the entire 207th floor of a tower. Two hundred and seven floors below the surface. The neighbor a few floors upstairs says that he thinks living deeper is a sign of status. What a luxury. That guy should check the status of his facial muscles, maybe improve his code that lets him tell lies while he’s at it. A couple hundred flights of stairs to swim up is a useless skeuomorphism of skyscrapers in the days of the sun. In fact they were more than useless, you would've preferred a single vertical hallway as it would have let you propel upwards unimpeded. Each floor is the exact same, a glass door that affords no privacy for its residence, a false tree on each side. At the upper levels, malls, convenience stores and other gaudy retail, but it’s the gyms that mock you that you mock in return. They’re always empty.

Finally reaching the top is no true break even if it is a change in scenery. Inhale. Aether tastes a little different up here. Exhale. Can’t say you like it.

Countless satellites form a parody of the star from which the planet flew away, the false image refracted by the upper boundary of Aether. They can’t take away your memories of this star. Looking up at the sky once blinded you with ultraviolet radiation, burning your cornea. It was beautiful. Now everyone’s decided that if they’re playing the part of corporate dystopia, they might as well fit the aesthetic. In a way, it’s self-fulfilling. They wouldn’t have chosen a neon pink sun to compliment the blue and metallic gloom of the cityscape if it weren’t so ingrained in popular media already.

Still, you would’ve expected Google or Walmart to become the megacorp responsible for the state of the world, not a Korean entertainment company. Must’ve been quite the red paperclip scenario. Instead of material design or utilitarian architecture, tacky artistic structures line the streets. The same advertisements for albums that they’ve been selling for the past however long. It's all so obvious, the city could've been designed from scratch to accommodate new forms of travel and goddamn liquid air but instead they went with futuristic Tokyo.

Dubstep permeates your inner ear implants. A notification informs your thoughts that it’s “Hip-hop EDM dance pop with a strong jungle house groove and urban influences.” It’s dubstep. Liquid carries barely any sound so SM affords the option for implants if you're nostalgic for one of the senses. Even though it’s a slower form of communication than direct neural transfer, the noise comforts you. Of course the company would choose dubstep as their background music, but maybe they make money off refunds somehow. It switches to Ice Cream Cake. Much better.

You walk the not so busy roads towards a short brick warehouse in the distance and heavy rain soaks your clothes. No such thing as weather without the sun and water but it’s all simulated anyway.

A warm Seulgi adlib and you know it’s Psycho that starts playing. No, none of your senses are real. The most you could trust is your vision but even that’s being lied to. You could be living in a vat and fed all these thoughts, but then why make it so mediocre? Not paradise, nor torture but a lukewarm in-between. Guess that's what happens when SM Entertainment manages the post-apocalypse. Good on them for trying. The alternative would be a frozen hellscape without solar radiation. Can’t deny their work with geothermal and nuclear energy to keep the Aether warm so that you didn’t have to live underground for the rest of human history. It’s quite great PR to save humanity.

“Hey now, we’ll be okay,” repeats a few more times than you remember.

The Idea Factory Alpha White Delta Green says the neon tubes lighting the front of the brick and mortar building. Your ID card bears a name but it’s not yours, not until they approve your name change. Those usually get processed faster with how often people liked changing their names.

Sit at a desk with a sterile white keyboard and slick new monitor. Type and empty words appear on the screen: “Think for the many, not for the one. We need to think ahead.” A thumbs up. The company appreciates the input. That’s probably enough work for one day. Some SNSD live stages help the time pass, SM certainly appreciated the streaming numbers and it would net you some social points.

It’s hard to say what comes to mind when they ask you to envision a world without the sun and air, especially since it’s what you’ve known for... Two hundred years? There’s no frame of reference, that much you can tell from when you counted seconds to see how often the satellites completed their orbit. SM really took time to have them propel at random speeds, they love withholding sensitive information like that from citizens. To be fair, time is sensitive. Guess the meaning of that phrase changes like all parts of language.

Look around. Dozens of employees at identical workspaces all try to answer the same questions. Naturally, there’s no need for manual labor anymore but there will never be a replacement for human ingenuity. Nice slogan but you know you’re only here for data. Can’t see a need for customer retention though—what’s the alternative, skip Earth? See you on another planet?

“Hey bro, you come up with anything new?” Dave says. Two desks away, you see the enthusiastic, surprisingly spry man play around with a Newton’s cradle. The balls at each end bounce back and forth, not slowing down their rhythm any time soon.

“I think I got something,” you say, “Earth is not the answer. It can’t be, long term.”

“Ooh, I like that. Actually, I really like that.”

“What are you gonna do, copy me?”

“Of course not. You know how much SM hates plagiarism.” Click. Clack.

“Ha. As if there’s a single original thought left in the world.” Click. Clack. The imaginary sounds of metal spheres bouncing play in your mind. They got the volume wrong, no way it’d sound that loud from that distance. “You’d think with all their resources, they’d have figured out space travel by now.”

“I don’t think they want to leave, bro. Wouldn’t be great for profits.”

Your mouth opens to laugh and causes laugh8942.mp3 to play in Dave’s head. “I love it. SM probably hates that sass too,” you say.

“Oh no, they’re gonna arrest me for thoughtcrimes. Nah, they love creativity, just when it suits them. Also, if they actually did bust you for wrongthink like rumors say, I wouldn’t have this on me.” Dave twirls a finger and points at you and you thank his absurd flair for the histrionic that keeps you amused with such drab work.

“NewDrug.mp6. Would you like to play it?” the dry system voice notifies you.

“Woah woah there tiger, hold on.” Dave must’ve noticed your intrigued eyes and holds his hands up. “You might wanna experience that at home. But if you’re interested in more, ask for chicken parm at the vegan place. You know the one.”

Dave leaves his desk. He doesn’t return. You finish your work. Inspire. Expire. You’d rather not.

In contrast to your commute to work, the roads fill with others on your way home. You have to know. Take solace in the comfort of a bench where a huge McDonald’s arch bathes the surroundings and its people with a yellow glow. Really shouldn’t watch it now, especially if Dave says it’s a home type of watch but you have to know. A family of five watches you pass out. They, along with every other passerby, ignore your still body draped over the chrome outdoor seating as you look like yet another junkie. The title is correct after a fashion, the simulation is some sort of new drug. The details of the exploits that happen in the immersive replay wash over you but you don’t need them to know that it’s the sort of lewd that SM would not allow—at least not publicly and not without the right exorbitant payment.

Suit pants and underwear go straight to the laundry. That must’ve been an embarrassing sight but no one bothered to stop you, so it doesn’t matter. Look up where this vegan place was that Dave so presumptuously assumed you knew about and you find that it’s about four Avengers’ stores down from work. He must’ve eaten there before.

“Yo Dave, just wanna make sure, what’s the name of the vegan place called?”

“What are you talking about, man? You telling me there’s some secret underground farms that SM wouldn’t know about?”

You can’t tell when you got to work, a lack of standardized timing would help as well the haze of living in a monotonous dark. “Nah, I mean, for the-”

“I have no idea,” Dave emphasizes each word, “what you’re talking about.”

“I see.”

Work flies by, unusually.

“Hey, can I get a chicken-”

“Uh, this is Maron’s Veggies Only, it clearly says on the sign.”

Clear your throat. “Parm.”

The shifty part-time worker looks around and rubs his fingers gesturing for money. “No digital.”

Over the counter, you pass him a gold coin stamped with a holographic 1 and he hands you a USB stick and a laptop in return. How old-fashioned.

“It’ll sync with whoever you have set as your avatar experience aspect,” the worker says.

“Thanks.”

Ever vigilant as the patrol is, the alleys are the last place you want to go to hide with the obvious criminal element within them all but you head to one anyway. Dump the anachronistic technology in your storage pocket dimensions. Looking at its contents, you’d have to clean that mess up later, but the more you look like an average slob the better. The biggest problem with the inventories is all the people squatting in them. Inspectors wouldn’t care about the archaic ruins you left in yours.

“Welcome, master. Ae-Karina is ready to service.”

“I’d like to go on a date. A special date.” You highlight the key word special and sit on your living room couch. No one’s going to look in your glass door and regardless, you wouldn’t be the pervert for glimpsing into someone’s home.

“Ah yes, master. Ae-Karina is ready to fully service,” she says with a provocative tint in her tone, her sclera disperses to black to match. A pole drops from the ceiling while parts of her maid outfit dissolve which reveals more of the silky skin of her thighs, her lissom arms and most importantly her overflowing breasts. Ae-Karina wraps her legs around the pole and spins around, teasing fingers trace curves on her body to harden you. Her dance is precise but sultry regardless. She pulls up her short skirt to flaunt more of her ass beneath white panties and then pulls down to flourish her cleavage, not trapped by a bra. “Are you enjoying your maid’s show?”

“Very much so, yes,” you say.

Half of a smile forms before a glitch occurs and she teleports next to you, fully nude. It doesn’t pull you out of the illusion however. You just stare and drink in the splendor of her created body.

“You’re not going to touch?” Ae-Karina says.

A feel of her tits and you find it softer than pillows you used to rest on. Soft isn’t much of a character that exists anymore when the whole world is engulfed in liquid. No one has beds, especially with the rarity of sleep. Therefore, her mounds are a consummate dedication to the texture as you squeeze and pinch at her cute nipples.

Her maid outfit rematerializes as she straddles you. It provides more friction to your pants as she begins her lap dance. The weight of her body dragging across your legs and clothed erection induces your carnal impulses further. If only you could fuck the virtual idol. You have to make do with the imprint of her pussy lips on your bulge sliding up and down. Breath in. Breath out.

Ae-Karina pulls down your boxers and spits on your erection. It's not real but her hands so slick on your cock and you let reality slip. Real is for the past, you have desires gratified in the present. There is no real person nibbling at your neck but your nerves activate in sexual desire without discernment for truth. No, she doesn't love you, but when the voracious mass of ones and zeroes says it loves its master, you say it back.

"I love you."

ILOVEYOU infected ten million computers in 2000. An explosion. Calibration engaging. It’s 1:21 PM, Sunday, July 18, 2286 and hypothetically the sun would be out in its full rage. At this latitude and longitude, you’re at what was once the epicenter of all—Seoul, where a fountain caused a chain reaction allowing the hopeful remnant of a world to exist. It lasted a surprisingly long time without the sun and without Aether but the dying planet would succumb inevitably to the ever-increasing contamination so SM of all corporations took charge. A different kind of chain reaction occurred when they acquired a restaurant chain that discovered the recipe for liquid air. The law is on its way and prepared to punish you to its full extent.

You reel while your ears ring. An even sexier version of the woman you already fantasized about appears from your peripheral vision in the crater of your floor. A skimpy cop outfit, striated with reflective material that seems to wane black at different angles, outlines Karina’s curves. She has a tool belt with absurd gadgets, such as a knife baton hybrid, a taser combined with a spray bottle and a Tamagotchi. None of this is necessary. They could just immediately arrest you, impose limitations on your devices. Sure, SM cloned people to deal with underpopulation, but why Karina would be the enforcer is a whole nother issue. Maybe the entertainment company loves their irony?

“Halt. You’re under arrest. Any resistance will be penalized according to the combined Terms of Service of all SM and SM associated products.”

Fucked anyway, you figure you might as well go for it. Escape into your inventory and only seconds later you’re forced out. You manage to get what you need regardless.

“Violation of access rights will be charged to your account.”

It’s so obvious but there’s a reason you kept so much gold in physical storage. As you swim away, the sides of your apartment start to bubble. Bubbles? Already, your limbs feel unsteady. Something’s wrong in the Aether.

“This is standard procedure for escaping suspects that are indoors. Again, this is all agreed to under the Terms of Service.”

“When the fuck did I ever click accept to that shit?”

“When you were born in this world and decided you want to stay in it,” Karina says out loud. You hear her say it. Your physical ears process the vibrations in the air that come from her mouth. Gravity thwarts your desperate escape as your limp body floats on the limit between liquid and air. The atrophy of your muscles becomes apparent within the gaseous atmosphere. She watches you sink down as the room drains of all the false air though her eyebrows crease when she inspects you closer. Your breaths are involuntary. Despite your muscles shorting out, the force of gravity and the pressure of the gas bearing down on you, you’re breathing and you don’t mean to. Her eyes wander farther down. On your pants, a concrete rod stamps the fabric.

“Oh, you like what you see?”

“Shut up, criminal. Anything you say can and will be used against you.”

“Your pussy,” you say and she scoffs.

“Original.” Karina bites her lip as your erection continues to grow behind its prison. You use all effort to put your hands up.

“Please, miss Karina. I’ve been bad.”

“I could punish you even more for sexual assault.”

“Then do it.”

Heat radiates the room in a way you haven’t felt in a while and droplets of sweat form on each of your bodies, especially on the thighs that her revealing outfit parades. Her facial features contort in deliberation and the wait kills you. You bat your eyes at her before Karina takes off her tight shorts and drops herself into your anticipatory face. This makes no sense but none of this life made any sense so you decide to go with the tides.

Centuries of training your respiration has led to this moment, but when you finally have real air to breathe, you spit at the opportunity and choose to suffocate. Then you spit at her pussy and lap it up. Karina’s nectar transfixes your olfactory glands, for once a smell that isn’t the sterile Aether. Your eyes are mesmerized in parallel because of the perfect design of her pussy, a single crease that leads into her hole that your tongue emphatically explores. Karina spreads her thighs wide to reveal a small nub that craves attention. So give it. Suck and swirl and flick your tongue, and the woman provides you the tight clench of her legs as a gift. And the sounds, rediscovered glorious noise. Loud, almost too loud, and clear is how they assault your ears, even surrounded by the flesh of her thighs. Muffled by the weight of her legs, you hear Karina moan in approval but she’s still clearly in charge with how she chokes you with her legs. This is not about your pleasure but hers, and any satisfaction that you derive is not only incidental but probably punishable by SM copyright law.

Karina squirms her hips subtly on your mouth. Her eyes are sharp and she’s just about to stop your hands from moving but she notices them clasp together.

“I’ll do anything to make you cum, please.” you say sloppily as her pussy juices fill your cheeks and drip down your chin.

“God. I can’t.” She takes deep, contemplative breaths. ”That’s more time added on for inappropriate behavior.” Her groaning and brief squeals make her words sound incogent.

You give her a concluding lick and a kiss on her slit. “So what have you been doing right now then?”

Point to a corner of the room and a subtle red light indicates a recording camera. At once, she pulls out a hose from a pocket that could not fit it and the vacuum submerges the room with noise. Her expression shifts quickly to serious.

“We don’t play games here in SMTOWN unless it’s SuperStar so don’t fuck with me.”

“Look who's trying to be a comedian. How about you fuck with me any further and the video gets released.”

“That’s funny, you think you have any sort of power-”

“Yoo Jimin, I suggest you don’t push me more.”

“Where do you know that name from? Right now.” She weighs herself down on your neck.

“You think I don’t have contingencies for if I die too? Karina, we can make this a  win-win scenario. We both get to cum, we both get to walk away unscathed.”

“Fuck you.”

Your weak arms wander between her thighs. At any moment, a feeble punch towards your face or another ten seconds of asphyxiation and she could call your bluff. Even if you did have the ability to expose her perversions in any way, there would be no permanent recourse, not as long SM was in charge. So it surprises you when Karina takes off her shorts. 

“Goddammit. Your cock just looks too good. And your mouth, how are you so good with it?” Put up five fingers when she motions to remove her top as well, and instead she opts to take off your clothes, seizing your pants and throwing them to join the rubble in the room.

A finger slips in, then two and a third dares. Her flawlessly architected pussy lips clings to your digits and Karina shudders in reply. You explore her wetness and find it’s smooth to the point of having no faults, but her juice inside is gloppy and causes your fingers to stick more than the liquids she spills from her slit.

“Who said you’re allowed to have more?”

You lap up the nectar on your fingers. “Then why’d they make you taste so good?”

Your thumb teases her sweet tight asshole and puts just the slightest amount of pressure on it while you finger her with more intensity. The mass of her butt burdens your torso the closer she gets to orgasm. Her eyelids squeeze close and you see her body ripple in anxious pleasure. Karina shows off her pearly whites, teetering on the cliff of hysteria.

“Yes, yes! I’m so close,” she screams.

"Not yet."

“Fuck." Karina sobs, "God. Damn, fuck I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Just fuck me.”

“My pleasure,” you say. There’s no need for you to grab her since she brings herself down to your groin, which you’re thankful for as your arms are as good as jelly now. Fortunately, your cock throbs as hard as ever while Karina’s slit rests on it.

“Say you’ll delete it all, all the evidence, promise me.”

“You’re gonna fuck me first or what?” Your breath hitches while she makes a strangled noise as her velvety walls swallow your cock whole to leave no room for comfort. Her tightness is stifling and you have to start counting just to breathe again.

“One two-”

“Be quiet.”

But there is no quiet when pleas for your cooperation intersperse her excessive profanities when she seats herself into your cock and ricochets up and down. Sweat emanates from her creamy skin while her legs widen to find a better angle for her supporting knees in her cowgirl position. Grapefruit and other citrus mingle with the scent of the sweat, fruits you haven’t seen except on billboards in music videos. As much as your mind crackles and your blood roars for every atmosphere of pressure Karina’s walls provide on each thrust in and out, you can’t help but reminisce on sweeter, more innocent times.

The white fluorescent lights in your apartment sputter. For all the advancements in technology, some among many things never change. Light refracts differently in air, less bright, but you can see the pure enjoyment on Karina’s face no matter the luminescence. Karina slows her ride to pull her hips down harder instead and she jolts when your cock finds the most tender spots inside her pussy and it interrupts her babbling.

Karina almost hyperventilates when she gets up to spit on your cock. She pulls out some kind of meter from her tool belt and sighs when there’s no beeping and you recognize it having to do with carbon dioxide. She gets back to dribbling saliva and the filament trailing down to your shaft mesmerizes you. This spit is real, not simulated, and it wettens your erection in a mix with her pussy juices to paralyze you further in your already listless state. Her bare thighs jiggle and you can’t exert much force with your hands but her buttcheeks are firm with just a bit of give.

“Thank you for this cock, thank you for being bad,” Karina says as you watch her ass sink deeper while her pussy holds your dick taut. She’s frenetic when bounces up and down to play an unadulterated orchestra of slick noises between your groins.

“You’re welcome,” you accomplish getting out the words between planned breaths. Your hands cup her buttcheeks but you fear they may break with how she strikes her ass into you.

Karina turns around once more to give you the spectacle of her facial expressions as she fucks herself into you. Knead her calves laying on your torso and they take no energy to spread them though she brings them back together, compressing your hard shaft within her pussy. A new game you play with her, a separate rhythm of loosening and tightening. Her feet press on your chest to help her bounce, but the way they bear down on your lungs against the timing of your breathing causes you to fumble. Your cock bends straight forward as she plunges herself into you and it sends prickles to your entire skin, making the new angle difficult but worth it. Karina takes your hand and starts sucking on your fingers.

“You want my promise that bad?” you say.

“Yes, as bad as I want your cum. I swear, I need it.”

She draws her knees up to her torso and hugs her legs to keep thighs as tight together as possible. Karina couldn’t keep her word, she was trying to kill your cock with constriction.

“Fuck, your pussy is so fucking tight. God, Karina, fuck. You’re so good.” Even if good isn’t the word you want to use to describe her.

“Do it, please, please. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, baby. Karina can be a good girl, a good maid, a good cop, whatever you want. Just don’t get me in trouble, please.”

Karina’s mouth stops saying words though her lips writhe, drunk in increasing lust. Her cheeks flush, before the rest of her skin joins in redness while she grapples your chest and whatever spare limb she can find. You still struggle wresting control of your body but nature seems to take over when you drive yourself into her and match her needy cadence. The air in the room is replaced by a new air but it isn’t Aether. Passion, sweat, heat and all fluids that you both exude join squelching sounds, slaps and moans in harmonic bliss when her body tenses and she screams. As her body tightens, her pussy especially holds your cock for dear life and endeavours to wring out all your semen as her wetness throbs and spills. Karina starts counting to three repeatedly and you laugh though your amusement quickly subsides when you feel her juices become more viscous and she continues her ride, even in the dying pulses of her climax.

“Was I good?” Karina asks.

Just a moment goes by before you mentally send her a screenshot of all the recordings being deleted. Karina hasn’t stopped fucking you yet so at least it wasn’t a ploy.

“Thank you, thank you, I love you.” The flexion of her pliant legs brings them all the way back to rest on top of your legs. Karina lays prone above you and finally give you a kiss. The citrusy flavor may be closer to lime than grapefruit but it’s been so long that you can’t remember which scent is which. Lips crash and her tongue lashes out at yours trying to establish dominance. Keep still to let her investigate your mouth while her pussy does the same to your shaft.

You savor the way Karina’s top emphasizes the bouncing of her tits synchronous with the rebounding of her waist on your cock, but your mouth waters when she frees them. Take the shortest moment to relish in the sight before Karina smothers you with her plump globes. You wriggle your face to try to breathe. Inhale, up and exhale, down, but all you inhale is the scent of her orbs’ sweat. Her hips undulate with a pace at least double yours breathing and the echoes of slapping flesh resonate throughout the air-filled chamber. The loudness is unlike any you’ve experienced in a long time. It’s almost a flashbang every time her ass slams into your lap, especially as you start to see white when orgasm threatens to overload you with preludial pulses.

The last words you hear infected ten million computers in 2000. Fade to black. Cut. You’re slammed out of existence back into existence as a sun rebirths both within you, heating your core to a dangerous high, and from your eyes, dazzling you in an unforgiving white light. In the throes of unconsciousness relapsing to consciousness back to tenebrosity, your streaks of semen suspend in the Aether like a dead tree resting from the wind. What flashes your mind in its orgasmic state are two things only you would remember, plants and weather. Your hyperventilation is unconscious but not unwelcome, as it’s the first time in a while your breaths were reflexive even in the liquid air. However, basking in your newfound power, you start to choke. Right. You breathe in and out again. In and out. In. Out. In. Out. Back in.

“Replaying KarinaArrestsYou.mp6.” A hint of vexatious glee in the system’s otherwise dry voice. You don’t stop for it.

✦✧✦✧✦✧ 

AFF, AO3

It’s pretty silly but the idea danced around in my head ever since I saw the absolute Black Mirror concept that SM had for aespa and I concur that Karina is insanely hot.

As I’m writing this, this Kurzgesagt video on the idea of a rogue Earth comes out and now I have to rewrite stuff to make it at least a little consistent. I’m obviously already going nuts with all these ridiculous sci-fi concepts but this video almost feels too targeted to me writing this for me to ignore it.

[dignityneeded]

back roads, driver’s seat

not-summary: you and benny have been fighting for a bit, and you’re both acting like assholes. 

pairing: benny miller x reader

warnings: rough sex, light finger-gagging, unprotected sex, swearing, benny being a stubborn bull, 18+

tags: @phoenixhalliwell​ @de-profundis-ad-astra​ @mandoplease​ @briskywalker​ @johnc0nstantine​ 

GIF IS NOT MINE!

It was just drinks with the guys—you didn’t think anything of it. Every few weeks, the guys would meet up at one of their houses, and just talk. They’d drink like it was old times, catching up with one another and reconnecting. For the most part, you stayed in another room with Frankie’s wife, watching movies and gossiping until someone got hungry enough and ordered pizza. Then, you’d go out into the backyard to join the guys to hang out for a little while longer, listening to their laughter and stories as the stars twinkled above you. 

That didn’t happen. 

You were supposed to keep your sarcasm in check, even though you both knew that you would have enough comments to last the entire ride home. Ben was supposed to keep a level head. Of course, you both had failed miserably. It was no secret you and Ben had hit a rough patch in your relationship; it was pretty much routine to have one every once in a while. It was nowhere near your worst, or most serious fight, but this one wasn’t going away. Snide remarks and tense glances left an awkward blanket over the entire room for the night. Neither you, nor Ben could just relax and enjoy the night as it came, which is why a wave of shame crushed your chest when Frankie ended the night early.

What made it worse: you don’t even remember why you were fighting. It couldn’t have been over your jobs: you supported him in everything he did, and you made sure that he knew what he was walking into by your second date. At this point, you believed it was probably something dumb. For the last few weeks, there had only been fights and silence at the house, with dinners covered by a paper towel left on the counter by one of you, only it had gotten cold by the time the other got home. It felt like forever since you touched him on purpose, let alone let him relieve you of some stress.

Now here you were, hate-fucking in the driver’s seat of Ben’s truck. 

Tiny drops of condensation covered the palm of your hand as you braced yourself against the car window. Moans overshadowed the faint rock music playing from the radio, and if there was any sound in the back roads Ben had abruptly turned into, you definitely wouldn’t have been able to hear it. You could see the tiny light from the backseat was still on from the corner of your eye, but your sudden attention to detail was halted by a particularly hard thrust in just the right place.

“Shit, shit, shit,” was all you managed to get out as Ben repeatedly hit the spot that made you squeal. Your hands darted around, desperately looking for something to grip as you got fucked into oblivion. From the window, to the back of the headrest, to the handle above the door, nothing could seem to satiate you until your hands found Ben’s chiseled back. 

Ben stopped, slipping out of you slightly, and you whimpered at the loss of him. He ran his hand through his hair with one hand, pushing your leg up until your knee touched your shoulder with the other, before slipping himself back inside and continuing to pound into you. His deep grunts and groans slipped from his pink, parted lips, and you watched as his head tipped back slightly. 

In all your time together, Ben had never been anything other than sweet, caring, and playful with you while you were having sex. Every once in a while, he would grip your hips a little tighter when he came, but that was nothing compared to this. The way he tore your clothes off, but only shoved his jeans down to his knees before pushing into you. The filthy way he grunted in your ear. The way his jaw tensed with his grip. You had never seen this look in his eyes before, and you loved it. 

One of his flush hands snaked up to your neck, using his thumb to hold your head in the exact place he wanted it. You never broke eye contact as you tilted your chin down, and took his entire thumb into your mouth. The limb curled slightly when you ran your tongue over the top, promptly earning you a rough snap of his hips. 

“Can’t get enough of me, darlin’?” He muttered. Ben pulled his thumb out of his mouth before clumsily replacing it with his middle and index fingers. Pure lust filled his darkening eyes, and you were sure it filled yours, too. 

His long, blonde locks slipped into his steely blue eyes when he used his body to pin you further into the seat. The sight alone was enough to push you over the edge, but combined with his thrusts, you had no chance of coming out on the other side in one, coherent piece. Black dots clouded your vision, and your legs began to quiver. All the tense energy that had contained in your shoulders and arms fizzled away as your entire body went limp in absolute pleasure. You’d definitely feel this tomorrow, but God, you felt it now, too. 

---

You weren’t absolutely sure how long you had been laying there with Ben’s teeth grazing up and down your neck, and his hard cock pressed against your thigh. He craned his neck so he could look at you in all your sexed-out glory, but his eyes lingered on your flushed face, to the point where you could feel his intense stare darting down your spine. 

“What are you looking at?” you snapped at him, the pointless anger toward him bubbling back to the surface. He didn’t respond. The hair tie on your wrist was suddenly the only thing you were wearing, and you attempted to reach into the back seat for your discarded clothes. 

You found your ripped top and threw it into the passenger seat, annoyed at the childish impulsivity that Benny always showed when he wanted you. Every feeling confused you, which wasn’t helped by the blanket of post-sex bliss that coated each one of your thoughts. He had his sweet, cuddly, caring moments, but Ben Miller was a rowdy, wild-west cowboy type, and didn’t play by any rules. If he listened just a bit more, then he wouldn’t have fucked you like this. Every time his hands touched your skin, it left you breathless, and this was no exception.

Before your thoughts could continue on an endless tirade, you felt a hand grab your bicep. Even though you were still pinned under him, you jumped slightly at the gentle contact. Your eyes followed the weak grip to Benny’s face, an expression that you had never seen painted across his face. 

“Please?” Ben whispered. His features weren’t contorted into his shit-eating, post-sex grin, but stretched into a The sweat had made his hair wet and brown, but his blue eyes still shone bright from behind his darkened locks. “Please…”

You weakly pushed yourself from between your boyfriend and the seat, placing your body on the middle console. He kept your gaze while he shifted himself into the driver’s seat, as if he was expecting you to disappear or run away at any moment. When he got himself situated, you leaned forward to plant a soft kiss onto his lips. It was different. Earlier, the only kiss you received from him was all teeth and tongue, all passion that your exhaustion prevented you from matching. Now, it was tentative, scared. His mouth moved slowly against yours. All flavors aside, you could taste the fear on his lips.

You slipped your tongue into the kiss at the same time you positioned your body on top of his. Only when you had a leg on either side of his body did Benny allow his hands to settle on your waist. Without allowing your lips to disconnect, you wrapped your arms around his neck and scooted up on his thighs, making him moan and throw his head back when your swollen clit grazed the tip of his cock. His hips violently bucked up into you once, before his eyes widened and a look filled his eyes. You tilted your head at him, cocking an eyebrow in confusion at him.

“Ben,” you started, attempting to choose your words carefully. It was harder than it seemed, though; it felt like tiptoeing out of a minefield of bad choices. “What’s wrong? Talk to me.”

You reached up with one hand to run it through the hair in his face. He looked away. Without a response, you mentally panicked, wondering if it had something to do with you. Was it the way you looked? The way you smelled? A million thoughts that hadn’t crossed into your consciousness in years raced through your head as you desperately tried to find an answer for Ben’s behavior. 

“Hey, hey , hey,” you cooed, a quiet sniffle forcing you back to reality. “Ben, I need you to talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong.”

He looked back up at you, trying to hide the obvious tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. Ben waited a few seconds before finally speaking, “P-Please...Please don’t leave me.” His voice started to crack at the end of his words. 

“Never.” you replied, leaning back into his body to allow your lips to meet once more. His heartbeat thumped against your chest, reconnecting the two of you in something so intimate, so delicate that it made your own heart race faster. Once his arms wrapped around your waist completely, you knew this is where you were meant to be. 

He bucked his hips a few times and let out a whine that was muffled by the kiss. You smiled, reaching around so you could slide his cock into your pussy. Once he bottomed out inside of you, he allowed his head to fall back and eyes to flutter closed. 

You’d never get tired of looking at Ben’s gorgeous features like this. 

“Darling, I need you to move,” he stumbled over his words a few times, enough to make you lean forward to place a soft kiss on his neck and dig your knees into the seat. You relished in the slow pace; Ben’s cock touched every sweet spot you had, and a few you had no idea about. He ran his calloused hands up and down your body as you rode him. 

Thin strings of curses alternated between the two of you, the pressure between your legs building up once again.

Ben must have felt you were close. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled your body to his. His thrusts weren’t much faster than the pace you had set, but each one made pushed you more towards your second orgasm of the night. With each time he pushed himself into you, your head grew more senseless and barren; the only thing that remained was your desperate need to release. 

Your vision grew blurry and dotted again, but you got a glimpse of Ben letting out every curse word he knew as he came. He snapped his hips twice more before letting his softening cock slip out of you, placing a lazy kiss to your temple as he did. You made a move to get up—Benny was burning hot, and you were still naked—but he reinforced his grip on your waist. 

“Stay a little.”

“We’re in the middle of nowhere and I’m naked and I’m hot, Ben,” you replied. You resumed what you had been doing earlier: looking for some scrap of clothing that you could put on while Ben drove you home. A light tap on your ass interrupted your actions, and your head turned towards Ben, only to see one of the biggest shit-eating grins cross his face.

“Darlin’, you know I wouldn’t mind you sitting next to me the whole ride home just like this.” He said, as he leaned down to place a wet kiss on your ass cheek.

[mittelfrank-divas]

Dance of the Black Heron chapter 2

The next chapter of my Dancer Hubert fic! In which the other Black Eagles have opinions on this situation.

This fic is now up on AO3 for those who prefer reading there!

===

"I think it's a fine idea." Edelgard rounded one of the long tables in the Black Eagles classroom, carrying a stack of tactics textbooks. It was quickly growing dark outside, and every other student had long ago vacated the classrooms, but the pair of them were often found here at this hour by the flickering light of the candles and the dwindling embers of the fireplace.

At first, tidying the classroom had been an easy excuse for them to meet at night without suspicion. It was a perfectly appropriate activity for the head of the class and her attendant to engage in regularly outside of normal class hours, with obvious evidence of their work that they could point to the next morning if anybody asked where they had been.

Now, although better awareness of the guard rotations and lesser-used passages gave them plenty of other ways to slip out after dark, habit still found them here day after day. Hubert could not help but notice the pride that Edelgard took in maintaining the Black Eagles classroom, making sure the chairs were straightened and every student had their required materials ready in the morning. It did not matter that their classmates could easily retrieve their books and quills themselves, or that the room would be equally serviceable if the chairs were left slightly askew or that the floor could endure going unswept for a few days. Edelgard wanted the classroom to be perfect for her Eagles, and so Hubert was all too happy to assist her in that.

He automatically held out his arms for her to deposit the books into and began distributing them before each chair on one side of the room while Edelgard began passing out her own stack on the other side. He scowled down at the books in his arms as he sought out the one with the broken binding, which he always deliberately placed in front of Ferdinand's chair. "I did not expect you to share in our professor's folly."

"I see no folly in it." Edelgard was not quite so deliberate in her distribution, placing each of her own books without checking its state. Hubert doubted that any of the other Black Eagles noticed that the left side of the classroom always received the same books each day (the nicest one went to Bernadetta and their state of decay decreased down to Ferdinand's) while the right side was randomized, with each equally likely to receive the one wrinkled with water stains on one corner. Her egalitarian approach meant she always finished sooner than Hubert, and so she was first to move behind the professor's desk to retrieve the quills and ink pots. "I know you know how to dance, Hubert. I have seen you do it many times."

"Respectfully," Hubert grumbled, "our little bedroom waltzes hardly compare to a competition that will determine the composition of our class. You have seen me run before, but you would not ask me to participate in a marathon."

"Nonsense." Edelgard turned to him, a pot of ink in each hand. "That comparison would only be suitable if I had watched you outrun the entirety of our class. You are good at dancing. You have proper stance, you keep time well..."

"Lady Edelgard," Hubert set his final book down and met her eyes directly. "Did you convince the professor to choose me?"

Edelgard's pale eyebrows rose. "You are cross with me. No, I did not. I merely advised them that you would be a good choice. They were already considering you."

"I am not cross with you, I am…" Hubert sighed, and slouched down to rest his gloved hands on the table. "Alright. I am cross. I wish you'd consulted with me before agreeing to this."

Edelgard never cowered from anger -- his, or any other's. It was one of the many traits that made him admire her. Her pale lavender eyes met his fully. "I apologize. I thought it best if you heard directly from our professor first. It is not as though they can force the decision upon you, after all, can they?"

"No," Hubert admitted with a sigh, finally moving to retrieve the quills and ink alongside her. "They merely trapped me in my own logic. Forced me to admit that I can see no better option."

"Well?" She flicked her white hair back out of her eyes as she shot him a sidelong glance. "Is your logic flawed? Is there any other who we should choose instead?"

Hubert had been asking himself that very question since the moment he exited the professor's room. Dare he give up their only cavalry unit? Their only assassin? Could he ignore his own predictions that Linhardt would shirk whatever responsibility the role would demand of him? "I am beginning to question whether we require a Dancer in our ranks at all."

"Well then, I am certain that Claude von Riegan will make good use of it," Edelgard said crisply as she laid out quills.

Claude von Riegan. Claude von Riegan with somebody under his command who could effectively double the speed of any attacking unit. Hubert could already imagine a number of scenarios that Claude could manifest with such power in his hands, but worse were the ones that he could not imagine.

"Your attempts to bait me are rather transparent, I'm afraid." Even as he said it, Hubert attempted to shrug off the vision of the future Alliance leader darting out of their peripherals, bow at ready.

"A pity," Edelgard sighed, moving toward the professor's desk. She always made a point of organizing their notoriously scatterbrained teacher's class materials at the end of the day. "I had hoped I was being subtle. Transparent though I may be, however, do tell me if my plan has worked."

Hubert prided himself on his schemes, on his ability to out-think his opponents. Unfortunately, the fact that he had honed his skill by practicing with his closest friend meant that same friend knew him all too well, and easily turned those same skills back on him. "Of course it has," he conceded, and moved to stand in front of the professor's desk while Edelgard sat down in the chair across from him. "You know I cannot bear the thought of giving such a calculating opponent an edge such as this. Well spotted as ever, Lady Edelgard."

She pulled a stack of Byleth's disorganized notes to herself, a small smile creeping onto her face at her victory. Under normal circumstances, Hubert lived to see that smile soften her carefully-managed features. In this case, it was difficult to take joy in one more sign that his doom was sealed. Nevertheless, she nodded at him. "Alright, then. If our only goal is simply to keep the Dancer class out of anyone else's hands, the solution is simple. We send someone else to compete in the White Heron Cup, but we will not make use of the certification once we have it."

Hubert crossed his arms, considering her suggestion. It was an easy way out. They could send Dorothea or even Ferdinand to compete without interfering with their long-term plans. Edelgard was showing him a kindness by offering an alternative. The fact that he recognized it for a kindness made loathing for himself churn in the pit of his stomach. For her to settle on a lesser choice simply for his sake was intolerable. "An elegant solution, but a wasteful one. I doubt you would be satisfied with such a plan."

Edelgard sighed. "Of course I wouldn't be. I think a Dancer would be of great benefit to us, and I think you would be an ideal choice."

Hubert shook his head, leaning down to press both hands against the front of the desk. "I simply fail to understand why."

"It is just as you and the professor said. The Dancer must be able to anticipate the movements of the battlefield and turn it to their advantage. When I am at the front of the line, I want someone who knows my tactics and my plans, who can predict exactly what choices I will make, to be at my back setting the stage. It's true that anyone in our class could do the job adequately, but only you could use such a position to seamlessly carry out my plans." Edelgard leaned across the desk, her hand closing around Hubert's wrist, her pale eyes meeting his fiercely. "I would never order you down a path that you found intolerable, Hubert. If this is truly unbearable for you, then we will find another solution. I just wish you could see how much I think you would shine in such a role."

She truly had so much faith in him. Not just to be a Dancer, but to be her Dancer. Someone who could help her achieve her lofty goals. Maybe, if he actually could succeed in winning the certification…

Hubert's hand went to his head, pushing his black hair out of his eyes. "This is foolishness. It is not a test of skill, but of charm. You know that I could manage to hit every step perfectly and the judges will still favor whoever has the most attractive smile."

Edelgard's eyes glinted confidently. "And is that such a bad thing? You know as well as I that charm is a matter of manipulating perceptions." She leaned forward, using her grip on Hubert's arm to pull herself across the desk. At her height, Edelgard practically had to lay across the expanse of the wood surface to lean close to him, but she somehow managed it. "Hubert," she said lowly so none passing by the open door could hear, "when we constructed the Flame Emperor together, remember what you said? That we must create an image that strikes awe into the hearts of all who see him. It will not be you dancing out there. It will be the image we create for you. So let us create that image. Will you permit that?"

An image. A persona, like the Flame Emperor. Hubert could not imagine himself standing before the entire school, hoping to convince them of his appeal with a charisma he did not possess. But thinking of it as simply another mask…

His other hand closed over hers. "If you are behind me, I can try."

***

The evening was still early when he found his way to the ground-level dorms. Light glowed warmly from the open doors and windows of the cafeteria, chatter and laughter filtering down the stone staircase. It was a crisp fall evening, not yet cold enough to keep the students from lingering around the fishing pond or drifting slowly toward their dorms while carrying on their dinner conversations, trying to delay the night of studying ahead. It would not be, therefore, considered terribly untoward for Hubert to be standing outside of Dorothea's chambers at this time. He took a moment to steel himself before knocking sharply on her door.

He highly doubted that he was remotely within the sphere of people who Dorothea hoped would be standing on the other side of her door, yet her smile was dazzling anyway. The songstress knew how to perform even in the most mundane of venues. "Hubie! It's not like you to make social calls. Are you here to scold me for forgetting to use Edie's title again? Or is this about that saucy joke I made yesterday? Was that too much for her delicate royal ears to hear?"

Hubert stifled a sigh, already regretting this conversation. Dorothea's personality was entirely too much for him to face directly like this. Her irreverence around Lady Edelgard had been a point of contention in their first few weeks at the academy, but Edelgard herself enjoyed Dorothea's brash attitude and had told him to let it go. Truth be told, Hubert also took a certain amount of pleasure in watching a commoner breezily ignore social mores the way that Dorothea did, pointedly affixing his fellow nobles with all-too-personal nicknames rather than a deferential title. But it was a spectacle that he preferred to appreciate at a distance, without the full force of the songstress's energy and wit directed at him.

"Nothing so serious as that, I assure you." Hubert stiffly folded his hands behind his back, sifting through his mental notes to recall exactly how he had rehearsed this conversation. Unfortunately Dorothea's chaotic nature had already derailed his plans, leaving him to leaf frantically through his script to work out what to say next. The sound of laughter echoing across the square made him uncomfortably aware of the other students and monastery residents moving around behind him. "I thought perhaps that you should hear it first. The professor has chosen our candidate for the White Heron Cup."

He saw her smile falter a bit, and knew that she was doing the math. If Byleth had chosen her, then surely Byleth would be the one to deliver the news. Still, her voice remained as bright as ever. "Really? That's great news! Who is it?"

Hubert could not stand to look at that fading smile anymore, and his eyes found a particularly fascinating crack in the wall by her door. "You should know that this was not at all an easy choice. It was less a matter of who could succeed in the competition than of who we could afford to remove from another role. The composition of our class is..."

"Hubie," all warmth had drained from her voice now, replaced with a dangerous edge. "If you've come all this way just to soothe my feelings over Ferdie being chosen over me, you can just get it over with."

The very suggestion that Hubert would ever choose Ferdinand von Aegir shocked him into looking at her again. "We need Ferdinand on his horse, loathe as I am to admit that. Just as we need you continuing to study both Reason and Faith, a combination that we otherwise lack." He shifted awkwardly, resisting the urge to either fidget or flee. "I have been over the class roster many times, and unfortunately I see no other way around it. The professor is of the opinion that the only one who can be spared for this role is myself."

A single laugh burst out of Dorothea's mouth before she covered it with both hands. "Oh Hubie! Oh I'm sorry, it's not funny. It's just unexpected."

"I am quite aware of how unexpected it is," Hubert muttered, once again taking tremendous interest in the details of the wall beside her. "Which is precisely why I must request your assistance. There can be no doubt that you are our most gifted dancer. Moreover, you have experience with performing before an audience. I wish to ask for your help in preparing for this competition."

Dorothea stared up at him, cautious skepticism on her face. She did not trust nobles, and he shared in her loathing. Hubert himself nearly forgot sometimes that he would be considered one of them in her eyes. Dorothea may have acted cheerful around her classmates, but Hubert had seen the way she sometimes seemed to be bracing for them to turn on her. She looked like she was bracing for that now. "I'm sorry, did you say you need my help? You, Hubie, need my help."

"That is what I said, yes."

Dorothea snorted. "I'm surprised you aren't asking Ferdie, since he seems so very convinced of his superiority in every realm, including dance."

"I do not entertain that one's foolish ramblings." Hubert smirked as he said it, and was pleased that a smile crept back onto Dorothea's own face. She made clear her feelings on Ferdinand -- loudly, and as often as possible -- and it seemed that he won an ally in her on this front. "As much as it pains me to admit my own failings, I know that you are much more practiced in this arena than myself. If you are willing to assist me in this, I would be grateful."

She granted him that warm smile that she shared so freely with her classmates. "Well with a request like that, how can I refuse? Alright, Hubie. How about we meet on the training grounds tonight?"

Hubert felt his heart rate spike just at the thought of being caught practicing in such a public area. The training grounds were less crowded in the evenings, but there were many students who remained there even late into the night. There would be no hope of privacy in such a place. "Actually, I have somewhere more private in mind, if you'll allow. I'll meet you here at your room after class tomorrow and show you the way."

Her smile twisted itself into a sly grin. "Why Hubie, if you wanted to get me alone, a simple dinner invitation would have sufficed."

Now he did sigh. Truly, she was relentless. "I assure you, I have no such intentions. But if this is your way of requesting an exchange for your services, I will see what I can do about a meal."

"No fun at all," Dorothea sighed back, though he could see that she was still teasing him rather than truly disappointed. "Forget it, then. I'll see you tomorrow."

Dorothea closed the door, leaving Hubert standing awkwardly outside. He had the rest of the night ahead of him to fret over what awaited him at Dorothea's lessons.

***

Hubert had never before dreaded class. In fact, against all reason, he even sometimes enjoyed it.

That had been an unexpected development. That Hubert would accompany Edelgard to Garreg Mach, the very seat of the Church of Seiros, that he would attend classes alongside the frivolous sons and daughters of nobility, that he would sit in front of some church-approved professor and listen to their tiresome lectures… and he would not hate it. Sometimes he even learned something. Sometimes he even forgot that he was here under false pretenses, that he was only pretending to be a student in order to further Edelgard's aims.

But class had never before felt like such a trap. Never had he so cursed Edelgard's preference for sitting in the very front row, as well as his own decision to accompany her there. Hubert felt that every single pair of eyes in the room must have been on the back of his head. Surely such a thought was irrational, since only Edelgard and Dorothea yet had reason to suspect his distraction when he failed to turn his tactics textbook to the correct page.

Worse, their distractible professor left Hubert to suffer in silence through the entire lecture, carrying on as though his humiliation was not imminent. It was only when Byleth was about to dismiss them for lunch, threatening to draw out the torture even further, that Edelgard came to his rescue. "Professor, I believe you had intended to make an announcement."

Byleth paused, blinking at Edelgard in that dreamy way they always did when they forgot vital information, such as their own plans. "Oh, yes. We've chosen our candidate for the White Heron Cup."

A general murmur of excitement rippled through the classroom. Hubert pointedly closed his book and began organizing his things, trying very hard to ignore the chatter behind him.

"You were wanting to be choosing, weren't you Ferdinand?"

"I assure you, I know nothing about the professor's choice. If they have selected me, this is the first I am hearing of it."

"It's not me, right? You wouldn't pick me just to make fun of me, would you? Oh no! You have, haven't you? Aaaaaaah I don't want to do iiiiiiiiit!"

"Finally!" Caspar's voice rang out over Bernadetta's cries. "Who'd you pick, professor? We've got so many good dancers here, I bet we'll win no matter what!"

Byleth did not waste time on drawing out the suspense with theatrics. "I've chosen Hubert."

The din faded to uneasy silence. Of all the times that Edelgard had urged the Black Eagles to learn the art of being quiet, somehow this was the moment in which the lesson finally took.

"I don't think he's a bad choice at all." Dorothea jumped in to helpfully damn Hubert with faint praise.

"Indeed, if the strategy is to frighten the judges into choosing our house, you could not ask for a better candidate." Linhardt, naturally, chose to wake up from his nap exclusively for the purpose of contributing this jab.

Having run out of anything left to do with his own class materials, Hubert moved on to straightening Edelgard's notes for her. Might as well let his classmates get this out of their system so they could hopefully never speak of this again.

"Hubert's not going to assassinate the judges, is he? Noooo I can't be an accessory to murder!"

"Bernie, nobody's going to assassinate anyone."

"Is this being a contest of violence? I thought it was of dance."

"No, there's no violence. Bernie's just being dramatic."

"Imagine if it was though? Like what if we had to fistfight Alois to win? That would be awesome!"

"But I don't want to fistfight Alois!"

"Bernie, absolutely nobody is asking you to fistfight Alois."

"Well I trust in our professor's decisions." A single voice boomed above all the others. Caspar may have existed in a perpetual state of yelling, but Ferdinand von Aegir projected his voice at all times as though he was in the midst of orating to a crowd. "I am certain that they have good reason to choose Hubert to represent the Black Eagles house, and we should be proud to support him. Why, regardless of whether or not he's had training, with a few weeks, he should--"

"I have, actually." Hubert was already out of his chair and turning to face Ferdinand before his nerves had a chance to catch up with him. The ginger with his all-too-bright smile was staring at Hubert, startled at being interrupted mid-speech. "Which is something you might already know if you ever deigned to dance with those you consider beneath your status, Ferdinand."

Ferdinand's mouth hung agape, his ears turning a satisfying shade of scarlet. "What is that supposed to--"

"Alright!" Edelgard stood, inserting herself between them as she stepped into the center of the classroom. "Honestly, is this any way to behave before a competition? We are supposed to present a united front before the other houses. I expect all of you to give Hubert your full support, just as you would any one of us."

Hubert made a point of avoiding any further eye contact as he exited the classroom. With resounding support such as this from his own class, did he even need rivals to compete with? Perhaps they might send one of Bernadetta's plush toys to compete and save him the trouble.

[d3-iseefire]

Little Swan Lost Chapter 38

When Dis said she wanted to see how much of Thorin’s money they could spend, she wasn’t joking. Bilba had thought what she spent before leaving Shire was a lot, but quickly realized it was a mere pittance in comparison to what Dis cheerfully spent. 

She’d expected them to go to the main Erebor mall, located near the center of the city. Back in Shire she’d often enjoyed spending a lazy afternoon at the mall, window shopping, grabbing a bite to eat or watching a movie at the theater. Here, the closest she’d gotten to the mall had been a few glimpses of it, both in person and in searches online during times when she’d been feeling particularly lonely or nostalgic.

Part of her had been excited about getting a small taste of what life used to be like but, really, she should have realized that it was never going to be that way again.

The Durins, as it turned out, did not shop at the regular mall.

The mall they went to, instead, wasn’t even on the main island. It was on one of the minor ones behind the main island. There was a second mall there, several stories high and covering nearly all the landmass of the small, rocky spit of land it sat on. It was, Dis explained, where the wealthy of Erebor tended to shop along with their sizable security entourages. The public were welcome to visit the mall but did so with the understanding that there would most likely be a background check run on them the moment they stepped foot through the door.

Back in Shire, with Rosie and Bofur, Bilba would have spent her time leisurely walking through the mall. Dis, in contrast, approached shopping the way Bilba imagined a general might approach a war. She had memorized the layout of the mall and knew the most efficient way to hit every store she deemed essential.

She deemed a lot of stores essential, as it turned out.

For Bilba, it became a whirlwind she could barely keep up with. They’d enter a store and immediately be surrounded by the employees, all eager to help Erebor’s princess. Dis would start talking and then, without warning, Bilba would find herself being measured and poked and prodded and fitted for all manner of things. Shirts, pants, skirts, dresses, and lavish gowns, all in various levels of formal and informal.

“Clothing is important,” Dis explained, as she casually rejected one dress for another without any reasoning Bilba could see. “Too formal and you risk elevating someone to a station they have no business at. Too informal, and you risk offending an ally. We’re judged in everything we do, down to the shoes we choose to wear or the jewelry we don’t. It all sends a message, whether we like it or not.” She paused suddenly, eyes staring off blankly into the distance and then, to Bilba’s surprise, shot her a guilty look. “You know what? I’m sorry. I’m sitting here lecturing you like you’re a novice on her first day of training.”

“It’s all right,” Bilba said quietly as she watched a new parade of shoes being brought out from the back of the current store, they were in. Boots, heels, flats, even a few pairs of sandals. After this, Dis planned to hit the jewelry stores to ensure she had the right bracelets, rings, necklaces and hair pieces for various functions. Tiaras would be supplied by the palace. There were apparently at least fifteen of them, all to be worn for, and at, specific functions. “I didn’t actually know most of this.”

Dis and Ori stared at her.

“I’m sorry,” Dis said. “You what now?”

Bilba flushed. “Shire has a large royal family. It wasn’t seen as necessary to train everyone, when only a few ever interacted diplomatically with other families.”

There, that was a good explanation…wasn’t it? Part of her felt like just blurting out the truth. Telling them that she’d basically been a pariah because of her grandfather’s hatred toward her mother. Tell them about the dreaded visits that were more about her grandfather showing off his evil than about training her to be a princess.

Just tell them…everything.

The other part of her, however, shuddered at how her grandfather would react if he found out she’d said anything. Yes, he was in Shire and she was in Erebor but, even so, the mere thought made her blood run cold.

She wasn’t stupid. Reckless, and impulsive sometimes like when she’d allowed a two-year absence from the palace to convince her that she could stand up to her grandfather, but she wasn’t stupid. Foolishly trying to stand up to him was a far, far cry to betraying him. What he could consider a betrayal anyway.

He could reach her in Erebor, of that she had no doubt.

She ran her hands up her arms, suddenly freezing, and forced a weak smile at the two women standing over her.

“Huh,” Dis said after several long moments. She waved a hand absently. “Well, in that case, I’ll keep talking then.”

She did, but seemed distracted, while Ori kept shooting her strange glances that Bilba couldn’t read. She didn’t think she’d given anything away, or said something she shouldn’t, but couldn’t be sure. In any event, it was obvious she’d have needed to say something. She was clearly in the dark about Erebor’s etiquette and, without help, stood an exceptionally good chance of offending just about everyone.

Suddenly, the fact that she’d spent a month in her room didn’t seem like the worst decision ever. In fact, deciding to leave her room was beginning to feel more and more like a bad choice. Since she’d done so she’d almost drowned, gotten Thorin hurt, and had to deal with the Thrain and now her apparent lack of royal training.

They finished with the shoe store and then hit the jewelry ones just as Dis had said. It was only after they’d spent more money than Shire made in a year that Dis announced their next stop would be to get dinner.

At this, Bilba stumbled to a stop in shock. “How long have we been here?” Without thinking, she fumbled for her phone only to remember that, of course, she didn’t have one.

“Oh!” Cerys suddenly stepped forward from where she’d been silently guarding them along with the rest of their sizable security force. “My apologies, Your Highness. I completely forgot.” She pulled a slim phone from a pocket and held it out to Bilba.

Dis made a tsking sound. “Well, that’s boring.” Her eyes narrowed for a second. “There’s a store on the second floor that sells phone accessories. We’ll hit there and then eat.”

“But we’re supposed to eat at the palace,” Bilba stammered, stumbling forward a few steps as Dis began to march off on her newest quest. “The king said—”

Dis spun to face her and, with a sigh, pulled her phone out and dialed. “We’re going to be late,” she said shortly as soon as the call was answered. She paused for a few seconds as the person on the other end responded. “Well, that’s not my fault is it?” She listened for a few more seconds, visibly rolling her eyes and mimicking someone chattering away, before hanging the phone up with a bright smile.

“That…that wasn’t the king, was it?” Bilba asked. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer.

“He’s annoyed that Thorin is too tied up in meetings to come to dinner,” Dis said absently, focused on her phone as she texted something. She hit a button and then slid the phone back in her pocket. “And now the boys and Frerin won’t be going either.”

“Won’t he be angry?” Bilba couldn’t imagine ever treating her grandfather like that. He probably wouldn’t have killed her, but she had no doubt he’d have made her wish he had.  

“He’ll be fine,” Dis said airily. She hooked her arm through Bilba’s and tugged her in the direction of the escalators. “Eating alone occasionally won’t kill him. Maybe he’ll reflect on his own behavior and stop taking us all for granted.”

“One can hope,” Ori said dryly as she linked her arm through Bilba’s on the other side. “In the meantime, I think Thorin would definitely want Bilba to bling out her phone as much as possible.”

“Oh, definitely,” Dis said cheerfully. She pointed her arm forward as if leading a charge. “Onward, to victory and draining my brother’s bank account.”

***

Much as Bilba had wrongly envisioned what going to the mall for a royal would mean, she soon found she’d been just as wrong about what “getting something to eat” meant.

In Shire, with Rosie and Bofur, it would have meant going to the food court and finding a place, or several places, that looked fun to try. Then they’d search for a relatively clean, and empty, table that, if they were lucky enough, would have enough chairs for all three of them. Eating would be a mishmash of trying to fit all their food on the far too small surface while ignoring just how uncomfortable the chairs were. They’d laugh and talk, voices louder than normal to try and carry over the chatter of other mall goers and the loud music being piped over the speakers.

Here, it meant a high end, exclusive restaurant that took up almost an entire floor of the mall. A snotty looking man at the door held a list of guests who were allowed entry, though he immediately swept aside when he saw Dis approaching. As Bilba passed, he gave her a look that made her feel like a rat following a swan.

It was the first such look she’d gotten while being at the mall that day and served to forcefully remind her just how poorly she was viewed in Erebor. Yet another difference from Shire. There, no one cared one way or the other about her. She’d used to feel sad about it from time to time, but now understood it had been a blessing.

She suppressed a shiver and instinctively moved a step closer to Cerys. She wouldn’t say she entirely trusted the other woman yet, but she was a familiar presence and Bilba could admit to feeling at least some level of safety when around her. An unstable safety to be sure, but safety.

They were led to a dimly lit private room with a thick, maroon carpet, a mahogany table and chairs padded with black leather. The overall effect might have been oppressive were it not for the fact that the walls and ceiling were literally covered in white and green tinged crystal. Lights had somehow been strung up behind them, creating an effect that made it feel like she’d just walked into a geode.

Bilba stumbled to a stop at the sight, staring in awestruck wonder. “Oh, wow. This is gorgeous.”

Dis beamed in pride. “Isn’t it? Ereboreans know how to decorate.”

“They do indeed.” Bilba shook herself out of her stupor and went to her seat. Their guards lined up along the walls and outside the room. Having so many eyes on them felt awkward to Bilba but Dis and Ori seemed oblivious.

As she settled in, Bilba absently set her new phone on the table. It now sported a case featuring inlaid gems that formed spiraling flowers and leaves set in a gold tone background. The case came with a spot to attach a charm, so she’d bought a small cat that reminded her of her feline friend from the beach.

Dis reached over and grabbed the phone. “I’m going to put my number in it, all right?”

Bilba nodded. “Okay. Would you mind putting any other numbers you think I should have? I don’t have any right now.”

“Oh!” Ori sat up straight and clapped her hands together. “Put mine too!”

Dis nodded, eyes focused on the screen. “I’ll put all of ours, and your guards.” She frowned and looked up. “Have you gotten your bracelet yet?”

“Bracelet?” Bilba asked blankly. “What bracelet.”

“We haven’t had a chance to sit down and design it with her, Your Highness,” Cerys broke in from where she stood against the wall. “It’s next on the list.”

Dis nodded absently. She looked back to the phone but raised her other hand and jingled a charm bracelet hanging from her wrist. “We all have custom security bracelets. If you’re ever in an emergency, all you have to do is activate it and you’ll bring down pretty much the entire palace security on you.” She set the phone down and moved one of the charms, a small, linked set of hearts, to reveal an almost invisible indentation. “It’s designed so it can be activated quickly, but not accidentally.”

“Oh.” Bilba started to ask if anyone had ever had to use it, but bit back the question. If the answer were yes it would have been under extreme circumstances and it was likely Dis wouldn’t want to relieve such a thing.

“Are you on Ravenhill?” Dis asked suddenly. “I’m going to send you a request.”

She did something on the phone, and then handed it to Ori who also fiddled with it before handing it back to Bilba. “There, I sent you one too.”

“Thank you.” Bilba carefully took the phone back, unsure of what else to say. To be honest, the entire day had been overwhelming and she was still trying to process everything that had happened. “I’ll send you texts, so you’ll have my number too?” Her voice was shy even to her own ears, and she couldn’t stop the irrational thought that both women would reject her offer in spite of having given her their numbers to begin with.

“Great!” Dis said cheerfully. “Now, the next time my father tries to pull a stunt you can text me and I’ll come help him remove his head from his ass.”

Bilba focused on her phone and didn’t react. She had no intention of doing any such thing. The last thing she wanted to do was have the king see her as some sort of snitch or troublemaker. Not only that, but she didn’t yet know if Dis was the sort to take her father to task only to get angry and protective when someone else did the same.

She pulled up her contact list and was surprised to see the long list of numbers Dis had added. Her own, Thorin’s, Ori’s, Cerys and Gareth, even Frerin who she still hadn’t met and the king, who she planned to never call if she could help it. She also had no intention of ever calling Dwalin or Nori, but could see the reasoning behind having their numbers, as well as Balin. She added Rosie’s, and Arwen’s and made a mental note to find out her steward’s number to add that one as well.

She moved instinctively to add Bofur’s, only to flinch and stop. They’d agreed not to communicate, she reminded herself. Bofur needed to move on, and so did she. She wanted to move on. The sooner she did the sooner it’d stop hurting so much every time she thought about him.

She pulled up her Ravenhill account to accept Dis and Ori’s requests, and was startled to see a third one waiting for her. “Thorin sent me a request.”

“He’d better have,” Dis said. “You are his wife after all.”

Bilba chose to leave that comment alone. She accepted the requests and then, nervously, clicked on Thorin’s profile. Her mood immediately soured at the sight of the name Kyra Lundair next to the newest post at the top of Thorin’s page. It was some meme or another she’d posted, innocent enough on its own, but for the fact that the woman was literally everywhere Bilba went.

It had been posted only an hour earlier, she noted, and already had been liked by Thorin. Thorin who was too tied up in meetings to go to dinner, but not so tied up that he couldn’t like something his ex-fiancée posted on his page.

“What’s wrong?” Ori asked from where she sat next to Dis.

Bilba clicked over to Dis’ profile. “Nothing.” She studied the banner for the page, featuring a younger Dis standing next to an attractive, blonde man. “Is this your husband?” she asked, holding the phone up.

The other woman’s face softened, and she took the phone to smile fondly at the picture. “Yeah, that’s Vili. It’ll be seven years this spring.”

“I’m sorry.” Bilba flinched in guilt, regretting having brought it up.

“It’s fine.” Dis handed the phone back. “We’ll find him. I know we will.”

“I believe you,” Bilba said sincerely. She studied the picture a moment longer, wondering where the smiling young man had gone and why. He looked oddly familiar but, given who he was, it stood to reason she’d seen a picture in passing on the internet or even somewhere in the palace.

The food arrived just after that and she put the phone away as it was set out. They’d never been given menus or ordered but Dis and Ori didn’t seem to think anything of it. A man Dis identified as the owner appeared and began announcing the dishes as they were set out. All of them sounded amazing, and Bilba felt herself growing hungrier with every passing minute.

The man finally stopped talking. He started to excuse himself, before pausing as Dis gestured him forward. He leaned over and, for several long moments, the two had a hushed conversation that Bilba couldn’t hear from her side of the table. Then the man stood, bowed and left, after which they were finally allowed to eat. The food ended up being just as amazing as it looked and Bilba ate more than she probably should in an attempt to try all of it, and then a desire to go back for seconds on her favorites.

“So,” Dis said as she snapped a breadstick in half. “How are things going with you and my brother?”

Bilba froze. “Uh…it’s okay, I guess.”

Dis raised an eyebrow. “You guess?”

“We don’t know each other all that well,” Bilba said, almost under her breath.

“Is that so?” Dis asked idly. She had an odd tone in her voice and Bilba had a sinking feeling she’d given away far more than she intended.

Dis didn’t ask any further questions and the rest of dinner was spent in light chatter, mostly about favorite movies and books and the like.

Once they were finished Dis led them back out into the mall proper. Bilba was relieved to see the man at the door who’d glared at her was no longer there. He must have gone off shift while they ate.

They headed out, the only signs of their mammoth shopping trip the case and charm on Bilba’s phone and the small, carry out box Ori had gotten to bring home to her husband. Everything else would be delivered to the palace later, Dis had explained.

“I hope I have enough room for it all in my wardrobe,” Bilba mused, as they traveled down the escalator toward the first floor. “I probably should have thought about that.”

Dis laughed. “That’s cute.” At Bilba’s look of confusion, her own expression became startled. “Please tell me you didn’t think that wardrobe was all you had to store your clothes in.”

“It’s not?” Bilba said slowly. It was all she had seen, and no one had mentioned anything else. Honestly, the thing was several times larger than what she’d had in Shire and was even larger than the ones she’d seen in Beatrice’s room or any of her other relations.

Dis sighed. “It’ll be too late by the time we get back but remind me to show you where your closet is. Or better yet just keep an eye out when the maids put all your things away. The wardrobe,” she said in answer to Bilba’s unspoken question, “is for your go to, day to day items, or to store an outfit you know you’ll need in the next few days or week or so. It makes it less of a hassle if it’s right there, you know?”

Bilba didn’t but nodded dutifully.  

They exited the mall, and her steps slowed as she realized full night had fallen. They’d literally spent the entire day shopping. Bilba was certainly tired, but, if asked, would have insisted they’d only been out a few hours at most. She cast a guilty look at Cerys and Gareth, wondering if the two had been able to eat or see Wynne, but neither appeared unhappy. Perhaps they’d gone on breaks when she hadn’t been looking? She had spent a lot of time trying things on and being measured, so it was certainly possible.

They all loaded back into the limos and started the long journey back. Bilba must have dozed off because, before she knew it, they were pulling down a low ramp into an underground parking garage behind the palace.

Once they were parked, they all got out and took an elevator to the main foyer of the palace.

“This is where I must leave you,” Dis said as they made their way up the stairs toward the royal levels. “The boys will be waiting for me to tuck them in and read them a story.”

“I need to head off too,” Ori said, holding up the carry out bag. “Dwalin should be off shift by now and I texted him that I was bringing food.”

Bilba nodded. “Thank you, both, for today. I had a really good time.”

As she said the words, she was startled to realize she meant them. She had had a really good time.

“You’re welcome,” Dis said cheerfully. “I’ll see you tomorrow at breakfast, all right?”

Bilba nodded and the other woman left, followed soon after by Ori who impulsively hugged her before skipping off to her own rooms. Most of the security had already dispersed, so Bilba bade Cerys and Gareth goodnight before heading to her own room. She’d hoped by doing so they’d head off to their own rooms and Wynne but they followed her until she’d walked through the doors of the suite before wishing her a goodnight and leaving.

Once the doors were closed, Bilba let out a breath and sagged forward onto the wood for a few minutes. It had been a crazy day from start to finish, but she was happy to have it end on a high note.

She pushed up and noted that, while the room was dark, a light was on in the small kitchen, casting enough of a glow for her to see by. She was pretty sure it had been off when she’d left that morning, which meant Thorin must have come back.

His door was shut and there was no light shining from under it so either he’d come back and left again, or he’d already gone to bed.

Bilba started to go to her own room, only to find herself slowing to a stop before she got there.

Did Thorin know what had happened? About the pregnancy demands, and whatever had gone on with Kyra? She chewed on her lower lip and cast a nervous glance toward Thorin’s door. If he did know, then she imagined she’d have found him waiting for her to come back to discuss it.

That or he was off, even then, comforting Kyra over whatever the king had said to her when he’d summoned her to his office.

Bilba grimaced. Think positive, she told herself firmly. You had a good day today, so don’t ruin it.

Thorin didn’t know, she decided. And if he didn’t, then she’d much rather have him hear it all from her before he heard it from someone else. Get her own side in as much as possible before he heard whatever twisted version she was sure would be making the rounds tomorrow.

She let out a short breath and wrapped her arms around her torso. Telling him herself would be best, which…meant…she’d need to go knock on his door…and wake him up to tell him.

She shuffled forward slowly, until she was standing in front of his door. She raised her hand and curled her fingers into a fist to knock…and then just stood there. Her stomach twisted, and she tried to force herself to breathe normally.

It’s fine, she told herself. It’s totally fine. Just…knock on the door. It’s fine.

She moved her hand forward, only to freeze as another, unwelcome thought came to her.

What if he wasn’t alone?

Her face flamed, and she shook her head. No. Not even Thorin was crazy enough to bring his mistress into his room at night. He’d have had to parade her past his own guards and the news would be all over the palace by the next morning. No way he was that stupid.

Hopefully.

She half lowered her hand, raised it again and then, before she could think about it any further, reached out and rapped sharply on the wood. Immediately her heart jumped into her throat and her muscles locked up.

A light snapped on under the door, and footsteps moved across the floor. A moment later, the door was pulled open and Bilba found herself face to face with Thorin…dressed in nothing but a pair of boxers.

Not…what she’d been expecting.

Not even close.

Follow on AO3: Follow on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1743620/chapters/3723188

[one-boring-person]

Only Traitors Consort With The Damned. (Part Eleven)

The Lost Boys x reader

Warnings: gun violence, death, blood, injury

Context: Someone helps (Y/n) out of a sticky situation.

A/N: There is next to no interaction between the reader and the boys in this part, so I apologise, but at least we've got a new character. I hope you all enjoy this!😊💛

Masterlist

The gunshot rings clearly around the parking lot, the sound resonating in the walls, most likely carrying a long way. A cry of pain mingles with it, followed swiftly by a sharp intake of air that chokes off into a gargle as blood fills a wind pipe, a body falling to the floor.

My heart pounds in my ears, breathing coming heavily and unevenly as I open my eyes, my head snapping upright again, confusion rife in my mind. Instantly, I locate the body a few metres from us, blood spilling from a wound in the neck pooling around the limp figure, black-clad SRS Hunters gathering around them to see if there is any chance of revival. In this brief confusion, another gunshot tears the air, a body falling accordingly with a scream of pain, the others becoming more and more disorientated as they begin aiming their weapons around the area, aims unsure as they struggle to locate their targets. Elijah steps away from me to join them, handgun held up at eye level to improve his chances, though his grip is unsteady, clearly shaken.

Suddenly, the gun used to shoot the first two is switched into its automatic mode, bullets pelting the ground around us in a punishing efficiency, hitting more and more of the Hunters, screams soon filling the air as they collapse to their knees, the reek of blood starting to become horribly obvious in the air, the sound most likely drawing unwanted attention to the area. Panicked and confused, I can only watch as my former comrades are shot to pieces with a brutal accuracy, my eyes wide at the sight of them all writhing in agony, my face splattered with their blood, muscles frozen in place as I await the same fate, knowing that I can't move anyway, my knee completely shot out.

To the side, the vampires are forcing themselves to their feet, Dwayne and Paul helping Marko to his feet, shooting me one last look between them before they clear off, running for safety, as they should be. Vaguely, I clock that that will likely be the last time I see them, my mind too preoccupied with the sight of a huge figure emerging from a darkened alley, a smoking assault rifle held in one hand, a shotgun in the other, to care too much about that, terror flooding me.

Pushing myself forwards, I go to stand up, only to yelp in pain as my knee gives out, making me fall onto my face, my hands only just catching me, preventing me from cracking my already bruised head on the pavement, my eyes fixed on the rapidly approaching silhouette, my movements erratic and uncoordinated in my attempts to get away. Breathing heavily, I start to scramble upright, trying to pull myself back and away from the threat, my fingers becoming grazed and shredded from the rough surface beneath them, one of my hands reaching for a gun that has fallen nearby. Stretching out for it, I use all of the strength I can to drag myself closer to it, only to stop when I feel a pair of large hands on my waist flipping me over, grey eyes swiftly finding mine. At the sight of him, I let out a breath, finally taking in his appearance as I relax into his grip.

"Nico!" I gasp out in relief, smiling breathlessly up at the brunette werewolf towering over me.

"(Y/n)." He greets in response, grinning down at me in his usual, crooked way, the muscular man sitting back on his heels. In the harsh light from one streetlamp, his chiselled jaw and prominent brow are emphasised, his grey eyes bright and lively, bulging muscles flexing under his coat as he bends down and picks me up, cradling me bridal-style against his firm chest, the weapons slung over his shoulders as I wrap an arm around his neck. Standing back upright again, the German werewolf carries me away from the wreckage he has created, deftly kicking someone as they make a grab for their gun, sending them flying back from the sheer force of it.

"I didn't think you would actually come." I say to him as we walk, trying to fight off the pain in my body as he slips into the shadows of an alley.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He exclaims, pulling a face of mock offence, "When have I ever left you to fend for yourself?"

"That's not what I meant, Nico, and you know it. I meant that I'm surprised that you came to a town of vampires." I grin, slapping his chest playfully, still a little disorientated after the previous shootout.

"If you can trust them, then I can tolerate them." He shrugs, tightening his grip around me, "I couldn't just let you get killed, and from what I can see, my timing was perfect."

"You've always been one for theatrics." I roll my eyes mockingly.

"I have not! I just know how to make an entrance." He argues back, turning a corner to where a clearly stolen car is waiting, the windows smashed in and the paint scratched and dented.

"That you do." I muse, smiling up at him, glad that my old friend came to my aid.

Nico and I first met when I was on a hunt when I had just graduated into the SRS, a good few years ago now, when I was just sixteen. I was working as an apprentice of sorts, a Cadet as they called it, for one of the crueler sergeants that trained me, and we'd been sent to deal with a coven of necromancers who dealt in human sacrifice. Being the youngest, I wasn't allowed to do much, only wait outside the coven headquarters as the older Hunters went in to deal with the problem, leaving me defenceless and helpless, though I had no idea I was in danger until a knife lodged itself in my lower back, narrowly missing my spinal chord. A necromancer attacked me, nearly killing me until they were interrupted by the sudden onslaught of a snarling wolf the size of a large horse, it's amber eyes blazing in the night as it tore the necromancer to shreds. I remember looking away as their screams died out, only opening my eyes again when I felt a hand on my shoulder, at which point I came face-to-face with a hansome, tall, hugely muscular boy my own age, his grey eyes concerned for me as he offered me his help, knowing that I was injured. At first, I was sceptical, not quite trusting the boy towering over me, every instinct in my body telling me that a werewolf is not the kind of company to keep, but eventually I agreed, but only on the condition that he got dressed again, seeing as he was naked (a person's clothes are destroyed when they transform).

The next time I saw him, he was facing down with a pack of cryptids up on the Canadian border, the werewolf bleeding and injured as he tried to find a way out of the situation. As I was on my first solo hunt, I was able to help, shooting the cryptids as their backs were turned and offering him first aid back at my camp. Finding ourselves in good company with each other, we quickly became friends, often meeting up and helping each other out when necessary, pur friendship remaining a secret for both our sakes, knowing that a revelation of our knowledge of each other could be detrimental to either. As a lone wolf, he often states that he's targeted as an enemy, most werewolves choosing to remain in packs, but I've never met someone who can actually best him. I quickly learnt, however, that his choice of lifestyle was not one he chose: he was born a werewolf in South Germany, on the border between Bavaria and Austria, in the Alps, but was cast out at a young age due to his unnatural body structure and overwhelming strength. He was often on the run, and soon found his way to the west, where he has stayed ever since.

His friendship and trust is the reason I sent him a call for help in the first place.

"What're you thinking about?" The werewolf's voice cuts through my reverie, his eyes boring into me as he carefully starts manouvering me into the car.

"Oh, nothing." I respond, sitting back into my seat as I wait for him to climb into the drivers seat, feeling like I'm ready to pass out.

"You sure?" Nico teases, smirking as he awkwardly folds himself into the seat, starting the car and driving off, heading out of town.

"Very." I yawn, still smiling.

"I'd say you should get some sleep, but I'm not sure how good that will be for you, given that you have been shot." He worries, looking over at me as he pulls onto a deserted street.

"I could really use some, actually. I'm dead on my feet." I admit, stifling another yawn, "I might just risk it."

He hums, whether in disapproval or not is unclear, but says nothing, clearly thinking, for a few seconds.

"I guess I can probably get that sorted whilst you're asleep, but it might be difficult. You wanna risk that?" He offers, turning down another winding, darkened road.

"I think I'll take you up on the offer. Are we leaving town?"

"Yeah, it's for the best."

"Can we stop somewhere first? I need to collect my things."

"Sure, where?"

I look over at him, struggling to keep my eyes open.

"You know where Hudson's Bluff is, overlooking the point?"

Part Twelve

[fireblaze5555]

Kastle Drabble

A quick idea that struck me over the weekend.

Title: A Long Day

Summary: Frank and Karen deal with intruders in their apartment

Available on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26470678/chapters/64501375 

Part 1: Karen:

Karen half stumbled into the apartment, exhaustion and relief in equal parts making her clumsy as she tossed her keys down and kicked her heels off to beeline for the kitchen. She was more than ready for a beer, sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. The day’s investigation had led her in a wide circle around the city with very little viable information gained. In short, it was a complete bust and her feet were killing her. So, with practiced ease she flicked on the standing lamp in the living room, pulled a cold beer out of the fridge, opened and drained half of it with a satisfied sigh and headed for the bathroom, a hot bath calling her name.

It was nearly an hour before she emerged from the bathroom dressed in her favorite pair of sweats and most comfortably worn in t-shirt. The stress of the day was finally easing out of her shoulders and the aching in her feet had calmed to a dull throb so Karen was starting to feel much more positive about the rest of her evening. With a renewed sense of purpose, Karen ran long fingers through her wet hair and gave a determined nod, speaking quietly to herself, “Time to see if I can make some sense of what I did manage to find today…”

A creak in the living room made Karen turn sharply and just like that what hope for her evening she had managed to regain vanished into vapor, replaced with a spike of adrenaline and fear quickly followed by acute exhaustion and no small amount of annoyance.

She really wasn’t in the mood to be kidnapped or whatever the three men now standing in her living room had planned. Judging by the smug looks and weapons strapped to their waists, they weren’t here on a social call or even just to deliver a warning. It really spoke to her way of life and how much shit she had been through that now that the initial shock had worn off, she was just tired and annoyed. In the short time it had taken her to compute there was a threat in her apartment, Karen had already formulated a plan. There were weapons stashed all around the apartment and she knew how to use all of them, as long as she could avoid getting grabbed she felt fairly confident she could get out of the apartment mostly unscathed.

From where she stood a few feet outside of her bedroom doorway, Karen could see the kitchen and from the corner of her eye verified that her first choice for defense was tucked up under the island where it had been secured just the other day. She turned her attention back to the living room, watching the intruders again. They had moved a little further in and looked confident that their job was already done, no doubt assuming that a skinny blonde in her pajamas would be an easy take down. Karen felt the familiar hot rise of anger burn up her spine. When were men going to learn that underestimating her would almost always be their last mistake?

As subtly as she could, Karen flicked her eyes over again to gauge the distance between her and the gun fastened to her kitchen furniture when her eyes flicked over the neon numbers of the microwave flashing midnight. For a moment, through her clamoring thoughts, she tried to remember why the time seemed so significant. Then it clicked and some of the tension bled out of her shoulders.

One of the men took a step forward and looked like he was about to speak but Karen cut him off.

“You should leave. Now.” She said, her voice solid but laced with obvious weariness.

The man closest to her looked back at his friends with an incredulous little laugh before turning a patronizing smile to her, “Aw, but we just got here Karen. We can’t just leave before we have all the fun we have planned for y-..”

“Listen, I can honestly say I’ve heard several variations of this speech over the years and I just don’t have the energy for it tonight. I’ve had plenty of fun today, thanks anyway. You can go now.” The men continued to chuckle, eyebrows raised at her sharp tone and defiant demeanor. A heaving sigh escaped her. “Look, you really need to go before he gets home.”

One of the men, this one had a sharp smile, began to fiddle with a blade as he sauntered forward to stand next to his companion, “Ooh, you have a man living here with you Ms. Page? A real tough guy?” You have no idea , she thought but didn’t interrupt him. “Does he know that you’re snooping around where you shouldn’t be?”

Yes, it’s a never ending source of stress for him but he gave up trying to convince me to stop so I don’t see how that matters. Once again, she let him continue.

“Well even if he doesn’t, he’ll find out soon enough. We plan to carve every little problem you’ve caused for us into that pretty skin of yours, once we’re done with you, of course.”

It was so cliche it nearly made Karen roll her eyes. She didn’t though, she still needed to be focused, each time they got a little closer, she moved a little closer to her destination.

As much as she really didn’t like these men, and she really didn’t, she felt like she should try to give them one last warning.

“Whatever it is that I’ve done to piss you off, I’m telling you, it won’t be worth what’s coming. If you leave right now, I won’t report anything and you all don’t have to die.” Her voice was steady and earnest. If, by some miracle, they did decide to just leave she fully intended on reporting it to Mahoney, Karen was almost certain she knew what faction these men were from and it wouldn’t be hard to track them down.

As she expected, they just laughed.

“Well, we appreciate the warning Karen but I think we will stick around.” The gaze he scraped over her body made her give an involuntary shiver, “We are going to have so much fun together. Before we kill you and leave you here for your poor little boyfriend to find that is.”

Well, she did everything she could. Karen tensed, prepared to fight and watched the men across from her do the same.

Just as she felt like the tension was about to snap into a flurry of motion, there was a creaking behind her, the old floorboards protesting. Before she had time to process the new potential threat, three sets of eyes snapped to look over her shoulder, nearly identical sneers of bravado on each of their faces.

What Karen couldn’t see was death himself materializing from the dark of the bedroom doorway behind her. A face carved from granite and colored with deadly calm stared at the intruders, the deep set, nearly black eyes the only indication of the rage roiling under the surface. The men watched the newcomer advance with heavy footfalls, stepping around the mouthy private investigator to level a malevolent glare at each of them in turn. It was then that they took in the blood splatter across his face and the slow drip of blood from one of his fingers. He had a deadly stance that only a true killer could possess. Karen could see the confidence starting to drain from the men’s faces but it was the tactical vest that made them all go pale, taking several hurried steps back towards the door. A white skull stared back at them, the hollowed eyes seeming to follow their harried movement.

“Karen.” It was spoken quietly but the deep graveled voice seemed to fill all corners of the small apartment. “Did they touch you?”

“No, man! We didn’t lay a finger on her! We were just going to talk to her, I swear.” The cocky leader of the small group hurried to plead their case but Frank silenced him with a withering look, a low animalistic sound emanating from deep in his throat.

“I wasn’t talking to you asshole.”

Stepping forward, Karen laid a gentle hand to his shoulder, “No, Frank, they hadn’t done anything to me.” Yet , hovered in the air between them.

Without waiting to see what he would do, the men bolted for the door. They had been expecting an easy evening silencing a reporter, not a fight with the Punisher.

Frank tensed, ready to follow them but before he did he turned back to Karen. She knew he was going to kill them and was too tired to pick a fight on the matter. Instead, she looked him over quickly to be sure he didn’t have any obvious injuries from the mission he had just returned from and when her quick scan turned up nothing, she rested a soft hand to his cheek.

“Punctual as usual.” She said quietly. He had promised her he would be home by midnight and Frank didn’t break his promises to Karen.

He gave a small huff and some of the tension bled out of him before Frank leaned into the touch. He gave her palm a soft kiss then placed a softer, more lingering kiss on her lips.

“I’ll be back in less than an hour, wanna heat up some leftovers?” he asked, stepping back to check his ammo and stride toward the door, a predator on the hunt.

With a sigh, Karen leaned against the counter and for the hundredth time wondered how this was her life.

“Yeah, I’ll have it ready. Try not to get hurt, I’ve already taken a bath and I’m ready to go to bed.”

A crooked grin and a ‘Yes, Ma’am’ was all she heard before her apartment door clicked shut

Part 2: Frank

Frank slid through the bedroom window and landed noiselessly, trying not to wake Karen if she was already asleep. From a text she had sent him earlier it had been a rough day for her so he didn’t want to make it worse. Frank’s evening had been pretty standard, the targets he had been after went down without too much of a fight so the blood on him mostly wasn’t his, the shallow cut on his forearm the only exception.

The bathroom door opened just as he was settling the window quietly closed and he gave a little smile when he looked over his shoulder to see Karen emerge. She was in a loose pair of sweats and one of his worn in black t-shirts. She didn’t seem to notice him, taking a few steps out of the bathroom towards the kitchen, no doubt planning to do more work until he made her get some rest. Frank heard her mutter something to herself and just as he turned and started to poke a little fun at her for talking to herself, Karen’s head snapped to the living room to follow the noise he had just registered as well.

Instantly his body shifted back into battle mode, his muscles tensed and ready, his senses straining for any clues to the potential threat and with a few silent steps he saw the men standing in their living room.

Rage burned hotly through him along with no small amount of fear, Karen was far too close to the intruders. She was tense but he could tell she had already thought of possible scenarios and had probably already solidified a plan. His girl always was calm in the face of danger. Frank forced himself to only take a few steps forward and listen, he trusted Karen to protect herself, lord knows she had done it plenty before he came along, and if he could stay calm and pay attention he may be able to get information on what organization they are from. Just in case though he had his sidearm up and ready to take out the threat.

They stared each other down for what felt like an eternity and then Frank saw Karen glance to the side and just a hint of tension bled out of her.

“You should leave. Now.”

If he wasn’t so furious and anxious Frank would have smiled.

Listening to the exchange he was able to learn that they hadn’t come for her because of him. Which means she probably knew where they were from. Good.

“...Does he know that you’re snooping around where you shouldn’t be?”

Frank barely kept from scoffing. Oh, he knew. Every new gray hair he found he was certain was due to one Karen Page. Then the man threatened her, a wicked knife twirling in his hand and Frank was taking careful steps forward, pausing when Karen spoke up once again.

“...and you all don’t have to die.”

Oh, but they did. Now or later, it made no difference, he would find them. He felt a flare of pride, she knew he would be here for her. Karen may not realize that he is in the apartment now but trusts that he will be here because he gave his word. Another reason he didn’t deserve her.

Frank’s pride melted to anger when they laughed at her. The pieces of shit had no idea the mercy she was trying to grant them. Then again, they had come here to kill the only shining light in the city so they really weren’t all that smart.

When he saw all parties tense and prepare for action he took heavy strides out of the bedroom. Frank knew how capable Karen was but he wasn’t going to stand by and see her attacked when he was there to prevent it.

The soon to be dead men snapped their eyes to him as he carefully stepped around Karen and put himself between her and the threat. It was with grim satisfaction that he watched them realize their mistake and backpedal as quickly as they could. But it was too late for that.

“Karen.” He was trying to not let the rage take over. It would be best not to kill them in the apartment but now that he was closer to them he wanted nothing more than to end them. “Did they touch you?” He knew they hadn’t but a part of him needed the confirmation from her.

One of them had the nerve to speak for her and Frank nearly lost it. Just as quickly, he regained his composure when he felt Karen’s hand on his shoulder. She knew how to steady him.

The cowards fled quickly after that. He moved to go after them immediately but thought better of it, turning to Karen. As was tradition, she looked him over, scanning for injuries and reassuring herself that he was fine. It was a ritual they had adopted in their time together. A few moments to hover, dispel the worry then get back to living.

When she rested a cool palm to his cheek, Frank almost decided to not go after them for the night. He could find them just as easy tomorrow and he was tired. But he also knew he wouldn’t be able to truly rest until they had been eliminated. So with a couple lingering kisses he was headed toward the door.

“...Try not to get hurt, I’ve already taken a bath and I’m ready to go to bed.”

Christ he loved that woman.

“Yes, Ma’am.” he said around a smile and set out to wrap up some loose ends.

It wasn’t hard to find them, they hadn’t gotten far and their arrogance had returned once they were off of his home turf, thinking that he would not follow. Idiots.

So, true to his word, Frank was easing back into the apartment 45 minutes later to the smell of leftover pasta. He stopped long enough for another once over from Karen before reaching for a plate.

“Uh, Frank?” He looked over to her with a raised eyebrow,

Karen looked exasperated, “Do you think maybe you should, I don’t know, wash your hands or something?’ She shook her head at him when he stared at his bloody hands for a second. “Bathing in the blood of your enemies sounds real cool and all but practically speaking it’s just not sanitary, please let go of my good plate and go wash your hands at least.”

Frank gave an amused huff, setting the plate down and moving to the sink. Only after he had thoroughly scrubbed his hands and up his forearms did he return to the kitchen island. When he sat down Karen placed a kiss to his temple as she set a beer in front of him before settling in for her own dinner.

She filled him in on the details of her mostly failed endeavor today and became animated when she informed him that while he was gone she thought of another, sure-fire way, to get the information she needed.

Frank chewed slowly, hanging on her every word and throwing in his thoughts here and there but mostly just marveled at the woman before him, talking about her day like she hadn’t just had her life threatened and he hadn’t murdered a handful of people in the name of justice tonight.

For the thousandth time he wondered how this was his life.

Once they had eaten and Frank had scrubbed off in the shower, they stepped into the dark of the bedroom, both exhausted from the day's toils.

The last thing to be heard were murmured ‘I love you’s before the bedroom door clicked shut.

[spaceskam]

floating upon the surface

(Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19911247 )

Day 1: When we were young for @roswellnewmexicoweek

Max really should’ve known.

There had been countless moments that he could’ve put things together.  He didn’t think twice about the times Michael would disappear randomly, nor did he ever question why he would catch Michael staring in the direction of Liz Ortecho and her friends.  Max had always been more concerned with his own problems that he never even considered the possibility that Michael may have had some of his own.

“Is Michael here?” Max asked Sanders.  He’d spent the afternoon searching for Michael so they could discuss the details of what exactly they would tell Isobel when she inevitably asked about the night Rosa died.  It was crazy to think that was already two months ago.  He still was getting nightmares.

“Uh, he went on break, but he should be around here somewhere,” Sanders informed him, not even looking up when he spoke.  Max nodded his head before heading around back where Michael usually parked.

Max thankfully was able to hide behind a broken-down truck when he realized Michael wasn’t alone.

All Max saw was the back of Michael’s head with painted fingernails weaved through his curls.  The soft sound of sniffling cutting through the air and Max listened in closely.  Michael was shaking.

“No,” Michael insisted softly, but all the intent in the world was there.  “No, you can’t go.”

“I don’t have a choice.” Max’s eyebrows pulled together as he realized that, not only that the other person was a guy, but was Alex Manes.

“You’re eighteen, he can’t tell you what to do,” Michael said.  Max’s head was aching alongside the sound of his brother crying.  They hadn’t spoken much since that night, but that didn’t change the fact that he cared about him.  Hearing him, feeling him cry was painful he wasn’t used to.

“You know that’s not how he works.” Alex murmured softly, stroking Michael’s hair.  He grabbed Michael’s torn up hand with surprising gentleness, kissing the gauze before holding it to his heart.

“Then let’s run off and get married, then he can’t say shit,” Michael insisted with a level of seriousness that overtook Max’s body.  Would Michael really do that?  Would he actually run away with Alex Manes?  After everything that had happened and how much Isobel needed them?

Somehow, Alex just gave a sad little smile.

“Yeah, then he’ll hunt us down.  I have to leave,” Alex whispered.  Michael whimpered and his knees gave out.  Alex caught him effortlessly and wrapped him up in his arms, holding him against his chest.

Max made sure to duck further down as Alex Manes tried his best to console Michael.  It was so odd.  Of all the situations they’d been in together, including four murders, and he had never seen him like that.  And over Alex Manes?  How long had that even been happening?

Prom was the first thing that came to mind.  Michael typically went out of his way to blend into the background, trying his best to go unnoticed.  Him stepping between Alex and Valenti had been weird, but he didn’t really think much of it at the time.  Then again, he had Liz on the brain.

But, still, aside from a few things, Max couldn’t understand it.  Maybe it should’ve been obvious and maybe it would’ve been if he’d known Michael was gay.  Or whatever he was.  Girls liked Michael and Michael had always seemed to like girls.  He was the kind of guy they’d sneak over through the window, but never brought to meet their parents unless they were intentionally trying to piss them off.  Max only knew that because Michael had bragged about it before.  Hell, Michael was the one to learn they could even have sex with humans and nothing bad would happen.  He never would’ve guessed he was into guys.

But here he was.

“I love you, you know that, don’t you?” Alex cooed to him, just loud enough for Max to overhear.  His heart was beating loud in his ears, a wave of appreciation for Alex Manes washing over him.  Michael deserved someone to love him like that.

“I love you too,” Michael whispered.

And, just like that, the appreciation he felt was replaced by complete and utter fear.  What if Michael told him?  Max knew firsthand how hard it was to love someone and lie. He couldn’t even imagine lying to someone who loved him just as much right back.

“We’ll be okay.  This isn’t it for us,” Alex promised, kissing his head.  Michael finally regained the strength to hold himself up again, resting his forehead on Alex’s.

“Can I see you again before you leave?  I-I don’t want the last time you see me to be me being really pathetic,” Michael said.  Alex smiled as bright as the sun, grabbing Michael’s face in his hands.

“How about I just stay with you until I have to go?” Alex offered.  Michael’s shoulders relaxed.

Max couldn’t hear what they said after that, all he knew was that he was feeling more and more like this wasn’t for his eyes.  Obviously, it wasn’t.  Yet them leaning against each other in silence, their eyes closed and just sharing space seemed more intimate than anything he’d ever seen and it made him want to look away.  It felt too personal, too adult, too serious for a pair of 18-year-olds.

Max turned away, letting out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.  He didn’t know what to do about what he’d seen.  Clearly, if Alex knew, he didn’t care.  That didn’t seem plausible.  It felt like his situation with it all over again only worse.  What was stopping Michael from admitting what they were and what they’d done?  Especially if Alex was supposedly leaving.  Wouldn’t he want to clear the air?  Max did with Liz.  And they all knew how close Alex was with Rosa.

Michael had somehow managed to make an even worse decision than Max himself.  They needed to talk about this before the Isobel thing.  This took precedence.

However, when he glanced back, he was hit in the gut with how lovingly Alex was staring at his brother.  This pure adoration was so heavy that it had Max feeling nothing short of envious.  That envy burst into giant red flames when they kissed, fitting together so seamlessly that it was almost like they were born for it.  Max didn’t have that‒most people didn’t, especially not at eighteen.  Michael was blessed.  Max didn’t have it in him to ruin that, even if it was risking their safety.  If Michael had that, had someone to love him like that even for a moment… It was worth it.

God, seriously, how did he not know?

[skvaderarts]

Soliloquy Chapter Seven: Abscond

You can check out the Masterlist Here for more links to places to read!

Chapter Seven: Abscond

Note: I just wanted to start by saying that chapter six was an absolute nightmare to write, but I had a great time doing it nonetheless. I’ve spent a few months trying to get myself to write this fic, and that resurrection scene was basically the whole reason. Trying to figure out a way to do that and make it make sense, fit into the existing confines of the series, and be coherent and enjoyable to read made for quite the crippling challenge, so I am thrilled by the reception that that chapter received! I remain humbled by your kind comments and warm words of encouragement! Thank you to every single person who commented, reblogged, gave kudos, and sent me messages about the story. I’d name you all, but in addition to everyone who has ever left me feedback on the previous chapters, almost 200 new people read the last chapter, so I can’t list you all by name. However, I can say thank you. Thank you all so much!

-~-

The overcast that had loomed overhead as they had entered the building was now more prevalent than ever. Be it a result of their current actions, some form of an ominous omen, or simply impeccably timed weather, it alluded to a coming storm of epic proportions. Huge dark clouds that would cause any right-minded pedestrian to check the current time of day spread across the sky in a vast network, chilling the air and absorbing all forms of light. The once gentle breeze was now a harsh wind, hammering against every surface it came across. It had been a glooming day from the very moment that the sun had come up that morning, but this was really kicking things into high gear.

As Magnolia collected what remained of the sparse materials she had brought with her to conduct the ritual, Nero oversaw V’s condition. The newly resurrected young man seemed to be semi-continuous, having still not opened his eyes since being brought back to the realm of the living, but able to react to physical stimuli. While it made sense to Nero on some level that he would not be fully operational out the gate (since he had never really been in the time he had known him) he still found himself unable to shake the feeling of uncertainty that had lodged itself deep into his subconscious.

He was worried about V.

Now that was something he never imagined he’d experience again...

As Dante and Vergil combed the space per Magnolia’s request to make sure there were no overt signs of demonic activity still present in the building, the youngest Descendant of Sparda went over a vague mental checklist in his mind. On the top of that list was the obvious question of where the hell V was going to go for the time being. While the Devil May Cry office was an obvious choice, there was the issue of Vergil’s undeniably recent return to contend with. Nero didn’t even need to ask if Dante knew where Vergil was staying at his office right now. They hadn’t been home long enough to see to that. For all the young white-haired man knew, his father had evolved to no longer require sleep during his time in the underworld. But V was going to be a different story. He just knew it. He had always been a different story; an exception to every rule.

“Hey, Magnolia,” Nero called to the alchemist as she packed up the last of her supplies,” Should I be worried that he looks like he’s in a coma or something?”

The woman in question shook her head as she closed the buckle clasps on her carrying case. “Being in a coma is no laughing matter, little one. Relatively speaking, it’s about as close to passing into Purgatorio as one can possibly get without actually being deceased.”

Nero chuckled to himself, nodding with an amused look on his face. “You don’t have to tell me that. I spent some time that way myself a little while back. Woke up one night to this one,” Nero said as he gestured towards V,” sitting in my window reading a book ready to offer me a job like I wasn’t already half-dead already or something. That’s how we met.”

Magnolia didn’t know what to say to that. While one part of her wanted to know what the hell had happened to him that ended with him comatose in the first place, her mind couldn’t help but find humor in the mental image of a person contracting someone to fight the envoys of the Underworld in their sickbed after seemingly breaking into their home. She decided that she would ask for more details when all parties involved were capable of speaking. “Well, if that’s the case, I’m glad to see that you're faring so well, dear. Hopefully, there will be fewer close calls in your future.”

Nero wasn’t entirely sure if she was being sarcastic or if the Alchemist was genuinely happy for his good health. She just had one of those voices, and the accent wasn’t helping in the slightest. “Thanks, I guess. Anyway, does bringing someone back from the afterlife or whatever come with a manual, because I feel like there’s something I’m missing in all of this.”

It was her turn to laugh now. She pulled the rolling case into an upright position and headed towards the front entrance, presumably heading to the van or some other form of transportation. After all, it was unlikely that she had walked here carrying all of these supplies from nearly twenty miles away up a gradual slope. Nero carefully lifted V bridal style and followed her. Somehow he weighed even less than he had originally estimated, if that was at all possible. Maybe after he had clothing on, his body weight would be more substantial. 

As cold as it was starting to get both inside and outside of the building, leaving him laying on bare concrete in -well, nothing- was probably a bad idea. As he followed her, she stopped, snickering to herself at the situation at hand, and decided to answer his question. “He should be more or less fine now. The hard part was relocating his soul to another plane of existence,” She spoke calmly, in a manner reminiscent of a professor giving a lecture,” The poor thing is going to be whether weak for a while though. Any inborn gifts he possessed prior to all this nonsense will trickle back in gradually, though in the meantime he will be effectively human. No passive regeneration, sixth sense, or anything like that for at least a week or so. I’m no doctor, but I’m going to take the initiative here and recommend bed rest. Extensively. What he just endured is taxing on the mind and body in every way conceivable, even for someone young and in good health. Don’t be surprised if he experiences dizzy spells or fainting. Proper nutrition is helpful, but this could still take a while.”

Nero nodded to himself as he took in the information she had just given him. Nothing seemed unreasonable, but it did clarify one thing for him. He needed to talk to Dante and Vergil. He chuckled to himself as he followed Magnolia, garnering a curious glance from her as they exited the building. “I fail to see the humor in this.”

In response to her statement, Nero smirked knowingly. “It’s not funny, it’s ironic,” He said. Her blank repose signaled that he needed to elaborate.” What I mean is you said he might faint and that for someone “in good health” this could be a lot to go to, right?”

She nodded, barely noticing the transition between the indoor and outdoor lighting as they exited the building and stepped out into the parking lot. “Yes. I said that. Why?”

Nero approached the van, using his foot to knock on the side door and signal Nico to open it. “Well, it’s ironic because he’s not “in good health” to start with. He’s walked with a cane the entire time I’ve known him and he’s constantly coughing or tripping over himself. Not to be an asshole or anything, but if I’m magnetically attracted to stairs, then he’s magnetically attracted to the ground ’cause that’s where he spends a lot of his free time.”

Magnolia blinked, her wide eyes filled with a sudden understanding and sympathy that she made no effort of hiding. Suddenly, what little desire she held to know how the young man before her had met his end fled her. It was unusual for someone his age to walk with a cane, especially one with a measurable amount of demon blood coursing through his veins. When he was more stable, she would need to take the time to try and consult with him. Perhaps there was something she could do to help…

As Nico opened the van door, Dante and Vergil exited the building. They arrived just in time to watch Nico’s frankly astounding facial expression at the sight of the presumably deceased demon slayer. “Well fuck,” she said as she stepped back to give the onboarding party room,” Every time you get in this van Nero, some weird shit happens; I swear. How the hell did yall- you know what? I don’t even wanna know! Let’s get outta here. Where are we headed?”

Magnolia pointed across the parking lot to the side of the building. They couldn’t see what she was pointing at, but they could only assume that it was her means of transportation. “I just wanted to see you off. I need to get back to my shop. Come see me later. And call me if you need anything,” She glanced at the oldest Son of Sparda, her eyes narrowing harshly,” Except you, Vergil. Your allowed casual visits at most.”

With that, she handed a slip of folded paper to Nero before hurrying off across the parking lot. Nico snickered briefly before looking at her passengers. She still needed a destination. Nero glanced between the twins and his friend as he laid V down on the couch. The summoner coughed weakly, teasing the possibility of opening his eyes for a moment before exhaling and settling back into his previous state, only this time more asleep than awake. Nero watched him for a moment before nodding to himself, his resolve towards the decision he had been teetering back and forth on now absolute. “... I think me and Nico should take V back to Fortuna with us.”

Dante and Vergil did a double-take, seemingly more surprised at his sudden uptake in initiative than offended by the statement. Dante seemed to consider quietly the statement, while Vergil seemed more apprehensive. 

“Why?” The eldest Son of Sparda said bluntly. He was clearly unconvinced.

Nero settled into a sitting position of the floor with his side against the couch, seemingly uninterested in heaving V’s proximity. Whether this was a conscious or subconscious decision or not remained to be seen, but he did so nonetheless. “Because there is a metric shit ton less demonic activity there than there is in Redgrave and Capulet and because I’m the only one here who isn’t going to get in an argument with my brother and literally destroy my own house. Magnolia said he needs bed rest and all that shit, and the only peaceful kinda peaceful place is my house. That, and your extra bedroom is taken, Dante,” Nero tilted his head in his father’s direction,” And I just happen to have an extra room at my place since someone decided to scare my kids back into one room!”

Vergil glanced away at the last statement, still unwilling to think about the mental damage he had probably inflicted upon those wide-eyed, chatty, orphans. “So you actually believe that three actual children can be that well behaved and we can't?”

Nero didn’t hesitate to nod in agreement. “Yea, because when I turn on the tv, they sit down and watch it. You can’t even turn a TV off without unplugging it, and your only means of communication with your own brother is stabbing each other to death. Plus, Dante’s doors get kicked in like every fucking week and he blasts loud ass music all the damn time. That’s literally the opposite or a restful environment!”

Dante shrugged incredulously. As much as he’d like to make some sort of witty comeback, Nero wasn’t exactly incorrect. Vergil closed his eyes as if he were deep in thought for a long moment as Nico tried not to laugh at this whole situation from the driver’s seat. Everyone in this family was a walking disaster and it was amazing that they had survived this long. After a minute that felt like a lifetime, Vergil sighed and leaned back against the window next to Dante who was now sitting down across from the couch and searching for a magazine to pretend to read to avoid this uncomfortable conversation. “... Do not disappoint me, Nero… I do not give my trust light.”

Dante interjected with a quick “no he really doesn’t” before continuing to reread his magazine for the millionth time. Vergil shot him a quick glare before returning his gaze to Nero. There was no humor present in his demeanor. Nero glanced between him and  V before nodding slowly in agreement. “I’m not going to.”

-~-

It had taken almost every ounce of daylight to drop Dante and Vergil off and then head back to the pier. And their timing couldn’t have been better as the ferry was stopping with the next round trip. The possibility of a thunderstorm had halted most water traffic, and all water transport between the island and the mainland was due to cease immediately upon the vessel’s return. That left just enough time to sneak one last trip in.

As the ship was docking, Nero called Kyrie to alert her of their arrival and to inform her that they would have another houseguest for a while. As expected, she didn’t protest the idea. In fact, she seemed thrilled, though that could be because Nero hadn’t elaborated on the context of the stay or who was coming over. V and Kyrie had never met one another, despite the fact that V had come to their home once before. But it had been during the middle of the night and the young summoner had been in something of a hurry at the time. There had been no time for pleasantries back then. But that was about to change. Hopefully.

As they pulled up to the onboarding ramp, Nero gave Nico the closest thing he could to a serious look. Before he could ask her not to go flying off the ramp, she disembarked, taking the ramp for perhaps the first time ever. Nero was utterly flabbergasted. “Nico, what the fuck?!”

Nico put her cigarette out in the ashtray she had placed in one of the cup holders. “What is it this time? If I drive carefully, you bitch at me. If I don’t, you bitch at me. Are ya crazy or somethin’? If you think you can do better, then you drive next time and I’ll take a nap in the back with him!”

Nero stared at her incredulously as she pulled around the corner and headed towards their shared residence. Nico absolutely never under any circumstance drove like a normal human being. He wasn’t sure if knowing that she could do that made him feel relieved or upset. She could have just driven the van like this the entire time he had known her? What the absolute fuck?

“So ya gonna keep starin’ at me like that or what?” Nico asked casually. Nero was at a loss for words and it showed.

As the van pulled onto the street that they called home, Nero stood up and walked over to V. Despite the fact that he still hadn’t woken up, he now looked more asleep than unconscious. Or at least that was what Nero thought. When he had first been brought back, he looked distressed, uncomfortable even. Now he seemed more at ease. At the very least, his breathing had been steady and he hadn’t coughed in at least an hour. He seemed stable. Nero couldn’t help but wonder if he was just a very deep sleeper and had been taking a much-needed nap this entire time. He doubted it, but still. Now that he thought about it, this was the first time he had actually seen the summoner sleep. During their time together during the Redgrave city incident, they had taken the occasional break, but V had been so preoccupied with his book that he hadn’t even sat down, always choosing to lean against the stove in the van’s kitchenette instead. Vergil had the book now, perhaps using it as a bargaining tool for later. He wasn’t much of a talker, a fact that had bothered Nero when they had first met. Who would have ever guessed that they’d be in the situation that they were in now, Nero bringing him to stay at his place? Wild shit happened sometimes.

“It’s just good to know that you can actually drive. Though I still don’t understand how you ever got a license.” Nero said as they pulled into the back alley that led to their driveway. For once, the door was open. Kyrie must have let it up after their conversation on the phone earlier. Nico climbed out of her seat and headed over to the side door, opening it and then hoping down to hold it open for Nero.

“Yea, well I wasn’t tryin’ to knock him around too much. He already walks with a cane.” Nico said as she stepped back towards the rear of the van. With the large vehicle inside of the garage, space was at a premium, and carrying someone required more room than normal. Nero fixed his jacket around V and scooped him up, nearly bashing his legs against the kitchen cabinet as he turned. The youngest Descendant of Sparda cringed to himself. That was one thing the two of them seemed to have in common to some degree. They were both clumsy as hell.

Taking a few cues from his close call a moment prior, he descended the stairs carefully and headed towards the inside door. Nico closed the door behind him and squeezed past them, heading to open the door for them. She nearly walked right into Kyrie as she did so. The young red-haired woman was carrying a stack of cardboard boxes and Nico had nearly sent her crashing to the floor as the door caught her in the side. She set the boxes down on the bench behind her and stepped back out of the way, clearly startled.

“My bad Kyrie,” Nico said as she looked her over for injuries,” I couldn’t see you!”

Kyrie smiled brightly and gestured towards the boxes. “You’re just fine, Nico. The children and I were cleaning out the extra room. There wasn’t really much in there, so I was hoping I’d be done before you arrived. These were the last three boxes. All of this was going on the empty shelves in the garage-”

Nico eagerly grabbed the stack of boxes as Nero entered behind her. “Ok, I’ll take care of it for you,” the young dark-haired woman said as she stepped out behind Nero and out into the garage. Kyrie was going to inform her that she could take care of it herself, but Nico disappeared behind the closed door before she could. The young redhead shook her head and giggled to herself as she turned to face Nero. During her time here, she had truly come to enjoy Nico’s extreme personality. She was a joy to be around.

The moment she caught sight of the white-haired young man her domestic partner was carrying, she went wide-eyed, her head crooking to the side in surprise. Who in Sparda’s name was this newcomer? Nero shifted anxiously. Maybe it was better if he just spit it out and got it over with? “Hey so… this is V, the guy I told you about when I came back after everything,” He said cautiously, unsure of how she was taking all of this,” It turns out that being dead is more complicated than everybody thinks, so he’s alive again. And… he’s kinda my brother so…”

Kyrie stared at him blankly. That was a little too much for her to take in all at once. She glanced down at their sleeping guest, leaning over him to get a better look. That made sense. They did have the same color hair, even though his looked a little whiter than Neros did to her. She was totally taken aback at the implications of what Nero had just said. He’d come back from the dead? Nero had told her Vergil had done that at one point, so the idea wasn’t completely foreign to her, but Nero had a brother? In the entire time that she had known him, she would have never guessed that he had siblings. He had always been so… alone. After all, being an orphan made it very difficult to locate your original family. It made her wonder what Nero must be thinking about all of this. As startled as she was, it had to be several times worse for him.

She smiled softly and gestured towards the guest room. It was on the opposite side of the house from the dining room. Being the only room on this floor and having its own small ensuite bathroom, it had been the natural choice for a guest room. She patted Nero gently as he passed her before turning towards the dining room. “It’s okay. I know you did the right thing, Nero. I’ll go get some extra blankets. I put a sheet and some pillows on the bed after I finished dusting, but I didn’t get a chance to do anything else.”

Nero stared at her as she walked off for a moment, relieved that she had taken that so well. She’d have probably told him off for his reaction if she’d been present at the time. Her understanding meant the world to him. “It’s okay, Kyrie. You do enough as it is.”

She waved at him over her shoulder as she rounded the corner into the next room and disappeared. He used his foot to nudge open the door and walked, taking a moment to look around. Aside from the built-in bookcase that had always been in the room near the door and the bed that jutted out into the center of the room, the entire room was spotless. The large window on the far side of the room that overlooked the small side yard where the children normally played was open, likely to let in the fresh air. Nero laid V down and sat at the foot of the bed, only now really registering how unreal this entire situation seemed to him. A moment later, Kyrie returned with a stack of about six blankets. Nero raised an eyebrow at her as she stuffed them into one of the open shelves on the bookcase and then used one to cover him up. It was a plush grey knitted blanket that she had made herself a while back. As soon as he was covered up, Nero unwrapped his jacket from around him and tucked it under his arm, returning his attention to Kyrie. She shrugged at his obvious confusion.

“I didn’t want him to be cold,” She said simply, gesturing towards the oversized stash of warm, thick blankets,”... Why was he wrapped in your coat? Is he okay?”

Nero looked over at V. He had stirred slightly, pulling the soft blanket tighter around himself. Now that Nero thought about it, Kyrie was probably correct. It had been abnormally cold for the last few hours. Having no clothes on had probably been uncomfortable, to say the least. “... I think he’s going to be alright. Supposedly he just needs to rest” Nero glanced over at the pile of blankets again, nodding to himself,” Thanks for the blankets. He doesn’t have any clothes on, so that’s probably going to be good for him. Probably should have said that before...”

Kyrie blushed bright red. “OH. I’m sorry then! I’ll go see if I can find him something!”

Before he could say anything, Kyrie hurried out of the room, closing the door behind her. He shook his head and laughed to himself. Poor kyrie. She probably felt like she had violated V’s personal space. He stood up and pulled an extra cover from the pile, tossing it over him. Better safe than sorry. As he leaned over him to fix the covers, V turned over and brushed his arm over him, exhaling audibly. Nero moved V’s arm off of his hand and continued, paying him little mind. As he sat up to assess his work, V gripped his wrist weakly. Assuming that he was simply shifting in his sleep again, he sat up and moved to step away and towards the door. But as he tried to pull away, V’s grip tightened. Nero turned his attention from the door back to the bed and nearly jumped out of his skin in fright. A familiar set of green eyes was looking back up at him.

V was awake. And he looked absolutely wrecked.

-~-

This chapter was so fun to write that I had to stop here and immediately start working on the next chapter. They will only be a day apart, so don’t worry, I won’t keep you in suspense for very long! Again, thank you so much for your overwhelming support. Hopefully, this chapter wasn’t too slow for you. But the good news is that V is actually awake now, so you know what that means. DIALOGUE! See you guys on May 22nd for chapter Eight! Wow, I can’t believe we’re already on chapter eight...

[rxpper-roo]

💣 The End Of Everything 💣

{💣}—; It started as nothing more but an ordinary day, I was sitting down and reading one of my favorite books in my collection down in the underwater tube complex I had built connected to my home on Wumpa Island, that led out into the ocean.

A place that I had created to conduct research and if I prefer to spend time with the beautiful sights of the underwater world, and to just be alone for a while. I couldn’t have known this decision to be down here for this point in time would have saved me from initial fallout of a disaster...one that would cause the end of days...

Just as I was about to take a sip of tea I had made for myself I felt the area around me start shaking as a loud boom could be heard beyond the glass of the complex. I quickly got up and looked out a window, and despite being underwater I could see fire and it looked like something terrible must have happened.

So I quickly checked security cameras I have above ground in my home for safety reasons, and saw what looked like a large explosion had taken place and was releasing toxic fumes and radiation. I pondered what could have caused this, and my immediate reaction of course was that this must be the cause of Dr. Cortex. If this were his doing, the he’s going too far this time because being as knowledgeable in many forms of science and history I know that the effects of radiation poisoning and contamination could be very deadly and have terrible consequences.

As a safety measure I locked down the facility including the elevator that went back up...though I felt guilty because I had many associates above ground on the surface who I’d welcome here but I could not go treading through potentially now contaminated grounds and risk my health and safety, thus potentially making my own mental state worse than it needs to be.

Being my underwater facility I at least had plenty of food and water in the event of emergencies, but even supplies as a precaution wouldn’t last forever but I had enough to last a while.

___________________

3 weeks later:

21 Days Without an incident.

As I got up this morning I noticed very quickly that something wasn’t right, the water outside the windows of the tubes started to change color, a more green yellow hue. It would appear as if it’s become ripe with toxic materials. The water levels seem to also be draining, I can’t explain why but I’ve begun to realize that it’s been lonely having no one to talk to...I desperately wish for someone to talk to some days and hope that I don’t have an episode of insanity at this time as for one wrong move could compromise the entire complex and if that should happen...I don’t know if I could hope to attempt a safe escape.

I’ve been using materials I have here to try and figure out a way to craft a breathing mask, for I have no true understanding of what the air quality on the outside could potentially be or if there is anyone still alive out there....goodness I would certainly hope so, if things are as bad as I predict then no one deserves such a fate.

After checking the cameras again above, all I see out there is a ship that I recognize as belonging to Dr. N.Gin that sits right above the tubes and I couldn’t even begin to guess what the doctor is doing...I certainly hope they are not up to not good at this point in time. I could tell the world outside looks worse for wear, the beautiful landscapes have been snuffed out and ruined, it pains me to say even my home and collection of books...some of which were priceless are likely lost to the radiation.

...

During the night the blue kangaroo would feel my head begin to throb to the point as he would breathe heavily, until he felt an uncontrollable sense of fanatical excitement! Feeling a burst of energy he cackled as the mutant would go hopping around the facility. As he placed TNT crates all around the place, his toes and fingers under the straitjacket twitched with anticipation as the crates exploded all around the place for the fun of it! To him it was an excellent time, the explosions, they were fabulous, genius work!

Feeling urges in his head he pressed his face against the glass, from what he’d remember of that is my tongue sticking to it as I peered out into the murky water that seemed to evaporate more and more every time he looked...

Unfortunately for him all this came with a price...

___________________

2 days later:

2 days without an incident.

Unbelievable...it would seem that a crack has begun to form on the tube near the fossil room, and I believe that it’s unfortunately my own doing as I woke up in the night and had another episode. This crack if it grows could put an end to this safe haven I’ve had for the past weeks and....I cannot have that. I needed some way to fix it but how could this happen, I looked at the crack and placed a foot up to it but I wasn’t a fool I ensured to use a thick cloth and when I looked back I saw the cloth was now wet...

Panic began to swell in my stomach...if the time came where I would have to leave this place then I would have to venture out and hope for the best even if it meant no more safety because once the water drained entirely then this place would be no longer safe as it would be completely accessible and exposed to the outside.

I can hear the glass straining, and the more I watched it I can see water dripping from it and I’m always trying to block it to ensure the potentially dangerous water doesn’t cause me trouble.

___________________

No...NO!

It’s a catastrophe! I woke up today to a loud crash and the sound of...glass breaking and a rush of water. Thankfully the emergency protocol did it’s work but I am seeing now that Dr. N. Gin’s ship has been hit with some kind of attack and sunk right on top of the tube complex....breaching the glass on the other side and causing the cracks in my area to spread, I’m afraid this is the end of my facility if the remainder of the water doesn’t contaminate everything the poisoned water will.

My...how strange that feels, my stomach feels warm and as I feel chills across my body and I feel my knees shaking I know what this is, I’m scared and I’m not afraid to admit it to myself. I’m fearful of what is going to become of me and what fate I will meet if I don’t leave before it’s too late.

I have to go, and so I’ve quickly assembled any and all supplies I still have here into a pack and placed it around myself like a backpack, soon the tubes will collapse and see the end of their days and even if the water is at an all time low and when it inevitably dries out...the tubes won’t be a haven for anyone anymore.

...

The moment I took the elevator up, thank goodness it still worked otherwise I’d be stranded and have no choice but to wait to die...upon exiting I felt my lungs and eyes burn and string with unsavory air and atmosphere that had me coughing as I wasn’t used to this.

But I pushed forward through what remained of my home which was dusty and had piles of strange substance even on the dusty old books of which some survived most didn’t.

So I stepped to the entrance of my home and looked out to see what appeared to be a land unlike what I knew it to be...it was like an industrial sector....and not much water left where the ocean should have plenty all I saw was mostly dry land.

___________________

Once night had come to an end I ventured out to see that the water had reached an all time low and I could see my underwater or now desert facility completely dilapidated and in shambles. All that work and time...completely destroyed. But it surely didn’t matter now given how the entire surrounding area looked, I could see clear marks of graffiti along the surrounding area and others moving around...I was feeling hungry so I prepared some of the leftovers I managed to salvage all as an attempt to stay out of conflict as long as possible.

But while scavenging around closer to my old home I found some spray cans, and other items that I notice there is a lot of perhaps I should make use of such things...I don’t quite know what the future will hold from here but I must learn to make the most of it now.

...

I opened my eyes the next morning to the strong scent of smoke and ash, not a good sign but I most certainly hoped that there was no one hostile nearby. I hadn’t seen really anyone so I had no idea of the presence of survivors or if there was few to none, of if anyone I knew was alive or not.

Checking my supplies I took a drink of water...remembering to be careful because once I was out I would have to scavenge for more. I kept and decided I should see how the land has changed, see if there is anyone around whatsoever. Surely I couldn’t be alone, but not knowing what could be out here after the initial blast had me concerned.

Feeling my eyes continuing to sting I knew eventually I’d get used to it, but I didn’t know what kinds of ill effects it could potentially have in the open. So I went through my backpack to check if I had something that could help my eyes...taking some time I dug around in the backpack with my foot and pulled out some goggles with red lenses that could help. Deciding this would be better than just simply glasses for obvious reasons I placed them over my eyes, having me see everything in red yet hopefully the air could clear up more so I don’t have to constantly wear these.

Regardless I made my way down looking at large towers and makeshift buildings including a large watertower with graffiti of what looked like Dr. Cortex’s face with a metal half. “Megamix” That face he had in the drawing sent shivers along my spine...I didn’t have a very good feeling about what I was looking at there.

During my exploration I thought rather than waiting to look for supplies I should perhaps just do it now so I don’t starve or go thirsty. It would be the smart thing to do, and while it’s likely been pillaged already I thought the ship belonging to Dr. N. Gin could hold something, I didn’t know what I’d find inside but I’d be prepared to defend myself if needed.

I knew the ship was essentially responsible for destroying my underwater facility and thus driving me out into the open but I couldn’t ignore potential supplies. So I very carefully climbed up into the torn hull and into the ship where I saw wreckage of abandoned crew uniforms and what looked like the impression of a walrus in the wall as if he’d rammed the wall.

How peculiar...however it didn’t matter in the end. If there was something still behind there I’d rather not see any grotesque remains so I stayed on the other side looking for anything useful to pick up. I came across not much except a still sealed canister of water that was buried under rubbish, possibly hidden so that it wasn’t yet found by anyone. I also peered upon a red scarf that I took with me from there as well.

Upon hearing some voices I decided it was best to take my leave and head back, noticing that these people...on the way out appeared to be some of Dr. Cortex’s old lab assistants. I heard them mention something about the bandicoots, telling me they must still be lurking around somewhere...I might have to figure out who else is out there for there are some I would trust.

I hope on the way home, no one saw me and I’m not being followed because I would not like to fall into unwanted conflict.

___________________

Once I had arrived home again, at least what remains of it I took a seat and had a quick meal. Knowing that things would only get rougher from here. My first night without a roof over my head besides the ruins of my home, I hear strange sounds at night and I haven’t seen a familiar face out here yet but I try my best to keep my sanity. I woke up late in the night, and I could’ve sworn I felt something push it’s snout up against me but I cannot be sure. It quite honestly shakes me to my core. I’m fully capable of defending myself but I couldn’t have the slightest idea of what’s out there...

[sailor-cresselia]

Zi-O 22: WHOOPS I WAS BUSY!

...Okay, so I wasn’t busy per se, but I did keep putting this off.

(carryover curiosity from episode 21: How long, subjective time, did Uhr spend breaking that mirror over and over?)

Oh, GOODY, the mirror aesthetic carried over into BlackWoz’s Storytime Vault!

I… can’t tell, what’s that watch on Mirror!Zi-O’s right arm? It’s with the bike, but I don’t recognize it. It looks gold-ish, and they’ve both got the W and OOO watches, but I can’t make that one out.

Bah, onto the OP, and… they’ve already included a shot of Zi-O II. Huh. Thought they’d wait until after the form actually appears, but okay.

I don’t even know why I like seeing which version of the pre-show sponsor segment we get, but I do. Today’s was the jets-of-fire variant.

Hm… Tsukuyomi and Geiz never even considered the ‘and then what?’ of when they managed to defeat Oma Zi-O. I figured they hadn’t, based on Quiz and episode 21, but it’s nice to hear them confirm it themselves.

Geiz doesn’t… oh. Honey. He doesn’t think he deserves to think of a future, because he considered for a moment about sacrificing Shinji to take down Mirror!Shinji.

Sweetie, you are so much better than you give yourself credit for. You were disgusted with WhiteWoz. You wanted to work with Quiz, because his issues ran alongside yours.

Geiz. It’s like the OP says. Use those bonds that the three of you are building to move forward!

Just why is Mirror!Shinji attacking people who read Ore Journal?! I don’t get it!

Geiz’s face as Uncle Tokiwa (whose name I will someday bother to remember) rambles is precious. Theres a slight eye twitch, assorted types of resignation to ‘Well, this is my life now. This is fine.’ and ‘Okay, yeah, you should… just go do those errands yourself. Fine. This is fine.’

Meanwhile, Tsukuyomi is just dumbfounded. ‘This is a new level of absurd we’ve found ourselves in. How have we kept all of this from him so far again?’

(You haven’t. I’m still convinced he knows far more than he’s letting on. There is zero way he’s not dealing with time travel shenanigans himself.)

They’re acknowledging that Geiz and Sougo’s finishers are different! Huh! I didn’t think that ‘a small lag’ is what was going on with Another Build, but sure. It’s interesting to think about, though.

And here we hit one of the many key points of Geiz’s many problems: why he’s willing to sacrifice himself right now.

It’s because Sougo wouldn’t hesitate. Geiz and Tsukuyomi both trust him, they trust him to be a good person so, so much.

But Sougo’s expression while she’s telling him this. While she’s telling him that she really, truly believes he’ll never become Oma Zi-O.

He’s not so sure anymore.

(note that I paused for those last few paragraphs as soon as Tsukuyomi walked out, knowing full well there was more to come in the clock shop.)

I know that Mirror!Sougo is, in a way, his own character. But his base is still Sougo. And that lets him hone in on all those little niggling fears Sougo’s been having since he met Oma Zi-O. That he’s not as good a person as he wants to be. I re-watched the second half or so of 21 before I started up 22, so… yeah. Sougo seems to be falling into a depression funk. He took on more of Geiz’s usual role during Quiz, when Geiz took his role up first.

The others trust him to be a good person.

But Sougo isn’t sure they’re right to do that anymore, and Mirror!Sougo is honing right in on that.

Also, the way that Mirror!Sougo appears brilliant. Not because he’s using mirrored surfaces, although that’s the mechanic which allows him to.

But because he doesn’t appear in a window, or in any other type of surface.

He’s in the glass front of a display case full of watches, with the opposite wall reflecting in there with him.

And then in nearly a dozen clock faces.

Time itself is the weapon and the enemy in this season, after all.

So Okuno’s acting has gotten really good in the past… it’s only been five months? Wow. He is killing it with both of these performances in this scene.

Great going, kiddo.

(Heeey. I never noticed that the blue clock in there has writing on it. I’ll be coming back to that when I finish the episode. I might just have to make a post collecting all of these instances of English, actually, since most of it’s been pretty good. This ones just single words, but it’s been well done overall.)

WhiteWoz is incredibly scary. “He’s a troublesome foe, isn’t he? I’m starting to think you might be as well, my savior.”

Shinji blames himself for his mirror world counterparts actions. Which, isn’t wholly inaccurate, but the mirror selves as interpreted by Zi-O seem to be the dark doubts and fears that you would never actually act upon. I’m fairly certain that there was nothing, or at least very little, of that sort in Ryuki proper.

It definitely helps adapt out the Rider War, since the current season makes sure the Riders never existed, though. And it lets them work with the “who you choose to be” aspect that’s been cropping up throughout Zi-O.

That’s not just for Sougo, either. He’s the only one with Mirror issues right now, but it’s been hitting Geiz and Tsukuyomi, as well. More Geiz than her, seeing how Tsukuyomi hasn’t been given nearly enough time to shine…

Although, since this is Kamen Rider, if she gets too much time, there’s a very good chance of very bad things happening to her.

“If I don’t finish this, I won’t even have a reflection of myself. I’ll just be empty inside.”

...You mean like how Sougo’s probably been feeling every time he thinks about Oma Zi-O?

Clearly WhiteWoz wasn’t actually paying attention to any of the previous fights against Another Ryuga, since he doesn’t seem to have known just how impenetrable that reflection is. Case in point, a duplication attack from his Shinobi form? Just gets six attacks reflected right back at him.

Geiz: Guess we’re doing this then.

WhiteWoz and Tsukuyomi: Wait, no, stop!

Cut to commercial (presumably), and then to Sougo… who’s standing in front of the door that he was pulled into the Mirror world from.

… huh.

The other half of the Zi-O II watch… was with Mirror!Sougo. The ‘I think you can make good use of this’ speech, that comes with a Former(?) Rider entrusting their powers to him.

Technically, he just gave the speech to himself.

Because that is one of the only ways to move forward, when you’re confronted with your inner thoughts. You can stop, and just quit moving forward.

Or you can take those, and use both the good and bad, and balance them out. Be both sides of yourself, and keep going.

Sougo. It’s like the OP says. Set your sights forward, jump in, and believe in yourself.

(Guys, you have no idea how glad I am to be able to repeat that ‘like the OP says’ line.)

Yoooooooooo.

That scene? Geiz delivering and receiving the finisher?

THAT’S ABSOLUTELY BRUTAL.

Taking his own attack – quite literally, not just the energy from it being reflected, but taking his kick.

I am dead certain that Sougo and Geiz are not meant to fight Kamen Riders.

Case in point - the Geiz watch broke. Before Geiz went down.

Before he died. Yeah, there’s no way he’s not dead right there, except-

Except Sougo Says No. Sougo’s not having this, and apparently is able to manipulate the flow of time, at least on a small scale.

“Darkness and light, good and bad. Past and future. These watches rule over both.”

Sougo Tokiwa. You are absolutely terrifying when you get down to it.

The transformation call is disturbing. There’s at least three different belt voices in there. And one of them is his.

There’s a decent amount of gold detailing in that armor. And the watch bands that trail down? Those are awfully similar to Oma Zi-O’s clock-hand ‘cape.’

That fight was both beautiful and terrifying. When Sougo means business… he isn’t going to back down. For anything.

I’m not sure that’s always going to be a good thing.

Previewing the opponents future is really… it’s overpowered, but it seems to be a limited span of time, so at least there’s that to balance it out. That doesn’t stop it from looking absurd when he triggers it, though.

This? This was a curbstomp battle.

And his insert song was playing throughout. And it was pretty audible, too. There wasn’t much talking during it this time, not like back in 16.

Okay, opening credits, sure, fine, don’t tell us when the insert songs are coming. FINE. It’s not as though you’re probably legally supposed to or anything.

I’m really hyped for when we finally get these songs released, because “Zi-O Toki no Ouja” is REALLY good, and we can’t even hear all of it yet.

I really hope So goes onto some great things after this, because he’s getting some skills here. There’s his pre-existing ballet training, he’s getting really good at acting by now, and apparently he can sing, too!

So… Ryuki has, what, six endings now? Possibly seven, with that “Rider Time” spin-off special?

But that final scene.

Tsukuyomi and Geiz, discussing their plan.

Tsukuyomi is stunned – she hadn’t wanted to think Sougo could become Oma Zi-O, she didn’t think he could, and she said as much earlier this episode. That she wasn’t afraid of the Day of Oma.

And now she’s the one who wants to stop him.

But Geiz?

He blames himself for Sougo accepting that watch.

And I don’t think he’s ready to take Sougo out. Not nearly as ready as he used to be. Not nearly as willing as Tsukuyomi is right now.

“It pains me to say it, but our choice is obvious right now...”

Geiz doesn’t respond.

Her expression is resigned and determined.

He’s conflicted.

I think they’ve switched roles. All three of them. I think…

I think that Geiz is the hopeful one out of the three, now.

And isn’t that just terrifying?

[endless-vall]

I think I always knew - Zekei x MC fanfic

Summary: Having to make a decision regarding the Vanguard spy overboard, Athena finds a deserted part of the ship to seek peace and quiet, to make up her mind. But, as it seems, other things are bothering her, making the process of decision making almost dreadful to her. Luckily, there’s a person who had always had her back, and today was no different.

Author’s note: My first ATV fanfic! Hope you’ll like it.

I loved Zekei from the first chapter and I’m so upset we didn’t have a chance to get any more points/romantic scenes with him (with the MC, not Eos). Hopefully we’ll get some soon.

In the meantime... I thought I’d write a missing scene from the latest chapter. Enjoy! 😄

Athena was sitting in an empty, secluded part of the ship. Only carriers and butlers arrived in that part of the ship and she was ought to have some peace of mind there.

Argo had passed by her an hour ago or so, but she faked a smile and asked him not to tell anyone about her whereabouts.

She'd have to make a decision before morning came, she knew that. But until then, she needed some peace and quiet.

That is, until she hears footsteps behind her.

At first, she prays in her heart it is merely another worker passing by, but then the footsteps become more audible and it is obvious they're directed at her direction.

They come to a stop and Athena senses a presence beside her, but the figure remains silence until Athena frowns and turns around annoyed.

"Argo, I told you - I wanna be left alone--" Her voice is cut short when her eyes meets the person who decided to burst into her little bubble of comfort and procrastination.

"Zekei." His name left her lips in the most delicate way possible.

She was struck, in awe, and despite her helplessness she smiled at him.

Zekei's lips were pressed into a thin, unreadable line until she smiled at him, then they curled upward into a charming smile.

"Mind if I join you?" He asked.

"Do you even need to ask?" Athena might've wanted to be left alone, but she would never decline Zekei's company.

He always grounded her, reminded her of her path, he was her anchor, and she was his.

Well, it had always been a platonic connection, although there was something beneath the surface the both of them were too wary to wake up, too afraid to ruin the special thing they had until now.

Zekei settles down beside her, leaving little space between them.

He follows her gaze, over to the enormous glass window in front of them.

It featured the open space in front of the ship, beautiful colors spiralling through the dark void and taking their breath away.

Out in space, it was so easy to remember how small you were, it was so hard to distinguish from night and day, and it was so easy to lose yourself.

But most of all, it gave them both a sense of hope. This was what they were working so hard for the last couple of years. This was their dream.

And somehow, by the hand of faith (And Eos's meddling), they were here together.

A comfortable silence fell between them, until Athena felt someone's gaze over her from the corner of her eye.

"If you stare at that glass for another minute or so I'm sure it'll crack under your intensity." He jokes, and Athena can't help the smile that reaches her lips.

She shifts her gaze to Zekei, and hums in agreement. "Could be." She shrugs, chuckling.

She already feels more at ease, but the decision is still weighting on her.

She's about to speak up again, confide in Zekei, when he beats her to it and breaks the silence again.

"Turn around," He motions for her.

"Huh?" Athena doesn't understand, furrowing her eyebrows at him.

"Just trust me." He chuckles in a low voice, having somewhat alluring undertone.

Athena nods, feeling the slightest peek of heat reaching her cheeks. She'd trust Zekei with her life, closed eyes and all.

She circles and shifts so Zekei is facing her back, and the nervousness and curiosity lift off immediately the moment his firm hands meet her back.

Despite his obvious strength and rough patches, his touch is miraculously soft. His caress is tender and relaxing, as he presses soothing circles into the muscles of her back.

Athena feels the pressure being left off her back, as if she's coming up for air and is finally able to breathe again, after not knowing she was drowning for so long.

It was amazing, how he knew exactly what she needed, when she didn't know it herself.

"Mmhm..." She let out a pleasurable sound, not even minding herself.

Usually, it didn't bother neither of them. They knew each other so well and allowed themselves to be completely carefree and open.

Yet somehow this time she sensed something was different.

After she let out the whimper of satisfaction, Zekei freezed. Ever so slightly, continuing merely a few seconds later, but noticable for the both of them.

Athena wondered in her mind, if any of them was going to comment on that. Zekei went on with massaging her throughly, pressing pressure just in the right spots.

This time, Athena bit the inside of her mouth to retrain from making any further sounds.

When Zekei felt she was more relaxed, he allowed himself to engage in conversation.

"You know, Nana, you can always talk to me if something's bothering you. That is... If you want." She heard a note of nervousness in his voice, but his grip remained decisive over her.

"Nana? You haven't called me like that since we were kids!" She didn't mean to change the subject, but was truly struck by amusement and nostalgia.

She even shot him a look behind her shoulder, meeting his eyes.

They glistened with something unfamiliar, something wistful.

The smile on his lips wasn't enough to distract her, and Athena wondered if the strange yet excited feeling swirling in her stomach was shared by her best friend that was sitting next to her.

Their eye contact remained intensely on each other until Zekei tore it off, looking anywhere but her. He chuckled, a tense laugh before replying.

"Well, yeah. I guess I didn't really notice. Sorry about that. " He nodded.

Athena shook her head, smiling confidently at him. "Don't worry. I liked that." She assured him.

"I..." Hesitantly, she shot him another look, trying to meet his eyes. "I wouldn't mind if you started using it again." She confessed, remembering how it felt back when they were kids.

Athena loved Zekei from ever since she could remember herself. Only it was a different kind of love. An innocent, platonic one.

They often joked back then that they were soulmates, since they worked so well together. Completing each other.

A soulmate isn't necessarily a romantic partner.

Only that recently, her feelings were a lot harder to contain, to hide deep within.

After almost being truly separated for their first time in their life, getting stationed together felt like a second chance.

As if the universe was telling them to use it wisely.

"I-- you'd... Really want that?" Zekei's eyes widened.

"Definitely." She nodded, once. "Just... Maybe not in front of the crew in official meetings." She noted, remembering why she was upset and came to hide here in the first place.

Zekei agreed, a huge grin spreading over his face. His hands stopped drawing soothing circles into her back and rose upwards to rest on top of her shoulder.

"As you wish, captain." He winked at her, and Athena turned around to face him.

His hands still rested over her shoulders, providing some very much needed support and comfort.

She hanged her eyes at him, wondering what to say next.

As much as the silence between them didn't become a bother, she didn't want to sink back into it just yet.

"So... do you wanna talk about it?" He asked, only the right corner of his lips rising into a half smile.

She feels relieved he brings that up again, and nods slowly at him.

"Well, you got a point there." She starts, swallowing.

"What do you mean?"

"I am the captain of this ship, yet it doesn't feel that way. I know it's not a dictatorship and I don't intend it to be, but my crew seems to be constantly telling me what to do instead of the opposite. I'm supposed to call the big shots, but how can I trust myself to know that I'm choosing the right ones when they won't even let me determine the smaller ones?" Athena never felt like that in her life. She was always positive whatever choice she made was the right one. Even if things didn't go according to plan, it just meant her path was supposed to take that turn of events, and eventually bring her to the right place.

But this time, she needed to decide the fate of a soldier. It's a life or death sentence, surely. And Sol, Kepler, her brother and sister - seemed to do as they pleased, no matter what Athena's opinion of it was.

She was a nice person, and had a high level of patience. She trusted that they knew what they did, but she needed them to trust her too.

Zekei slid his hands from Athena's shoulders down her arms, until he intertwined their fingers together.

Athena's heart fluttered in her chest, although she tried not to think of it that way.

If she could only knew if Zekei was feeling the same, maybe her life would be easier.

He gave her hands a reassuring squeeze before speaking up.

"Have you tried talking to them about this?" He asked, seriously concerned with her complaint.

"I did. Kind of, anyway..." She sighed. "Every time I try, something comes up that needs my immediate attention." Her shoulders slump, and she sends Zekei a pout.

He laughs at her face, before shaking his head.

"What if you confront them? Insist that this is a serious matter that needs their immediate attention. Snatch them away from their responsibilities and make an important meeting out of it. They'll be bound to come." Zekei suggests, and Athena's eyes lights up at him.

"You know what...? It might be the solution I was searching for all along." She smiles at him, completely and genuinely.

Zekei smiles back, just as eagerly. "Goad to be of service." He tells her.

Athena's glad that is over, behind them. Obviously she'll have to put it into motion but that felt like the easy part.

She looks back into the glass window and leans in, resting her head over Zekei's shoulder.

He lets go of one of her hands, to make that sitting position more comfortable for them. Only then Athena realizes they are still holding hands.

She does the mistake of looking down at their intertwined hands and blushes.

She feels Zekei's intense gaze over her, as she feels him stiffen against her as if he's holding his breath.

"I-" She finally glances up at him, unsure what to say.

"We really haven't hung out in a while." He saves the day, interrupting her.

She breathes in relief and smiles in gratitude. "Yes." She nods.

"Ever since we finished our boarding exams and started to work on The Atlas." She notes.

They were stationed together but haven't had any time to actually hang out together ever since.

"I'm glad you came here today though. Even if Argo broke his promise to me by telling you." She added, a sheepish smile crept to her face.

Zekei laughed at that, his smile warm and content.

"Don't get too upset with him. I practically made him tell me. He insisted to anyone who wondered where you are that you're working on important stuff concerning The Atlas. But I know you too well by now." He explains.

"Oh, is that so?" She finally sits back, not leaning against him. She immediately misses the feeling of him against her skin but she hold tighter into his hand to make up for it.

She raises one eyebrow, almost playfully at him, while asking him that in her most teasing tone.

After she hears him suck in a breath, he regains his cool and leans in. "Oh, definitely." He teases her back, voice low and daring.

"Remember the time we got out of a simulation, and you ran off to some rooftop to bawl just because you thought you did horribly?" He reminded her, and both burst into laughing simultaneously.

"You found me and comforted me. Telling me that even if I did by some miraculous way fail thay test I would still not be kicked off the program. I don't know why I stressed so much over it in the first place..." She smiles as she re-lives the memory, realizing Zekei has always been there for her, all along.

"And you ended up getting the highest score in our class!" Zekei exclaimed. "You truly worried for nothing." He rolled his eyes, teasing her.

“Well, at least I learned something out of it.” She noted, eyes hinting but not giving away all of it just yet.

“And what’s that?” He questioned curiously.

“That you’ll always have my back.” She pointed at his chest, her hand flexing and resting on top of it afterwards.

Zekei watched her intently. “As if you didn’t know it already.” He said, and while his words tried to sound sure and dramatic, his voice turned out ragged and a little out of breath.

“I think I… always knew that.” Her eyes slowly drifted to Zekei’s face. Her eyes hovering over her lips before finally reaching his own.

“The feeling’s mutual.” He breathe out, his voice barely more than a whisper.

Athena wondered if his words had a deeper meaning.

His gaze was unreadable to her, but intense. It was only when she started leaning in she understood what that gaze meant.

Lust, yearing… warmness. Dare she say… Love?

Zekei leaned in too, all of those emotions swirling in the corners of his eyes until he blinks them close.

Their lips are merely inches apart, exploring new territory.

It’s not that her and Zekei being entangled in an embrace was something new. It wasn’t the first time they sat so close or cuddled. It wasn’t that Athena’s lips never touched Zekei, too. Just never on his lips, though.

She planted kisses over his cheeks, nose and forehead, too. They were already close as it was.

But they were trespassing into a new step and Athena could swear her heart was beating so loudly she could hear it all the way from her chest.

Just a second before their lips touched and tasted each other for the first time ever, Vee beeped into life.

Until now, Vee has been hovering silently, rather in sleeping mode beside Athena.

She tried cheering her up at first, but Athena asked her in the most polite way possible to let her wallow in silence.

Vee was a little upset she couldn’t cheer Athena up, but otherwise understood and set herself to sleeping mode.

“Athena!! I’m so sorry to intrude in such an intimate moment but you have to go, now!” She informed, making the couple jump in their place, flinching away from each other.

“What is it, Vee, what’s wrong?” Athena furrowed her eyebrows in concern.

“The hangar! There’s been some sort of explosion, we have to make an emergency landing, now!!” She swirls and buzzes, and Athena rises to her feet.

Zekei follows suit.

“Zekei, I-” Athena starts apologizing.

“S'okay, Nana, this is more important.” He gives her an understanding nod.

Athena smiles, for a mere moment actually glowing, before giving him a firm nod.

Hey run into the area of the main bridge together, each ready to take their place and live up their duties.

Just before pushing the main doors open, Athena tugs at Zekei’s elbow, pulling him into a stop.

“What is it, Athena?-” Before he can get the full sentence out, though, she presses her lips to his for a blissful, fabulous second.

It’s way too rushed for their liking, but it’s amazing nonetheless.

They feel how their hearts mend, like two pieces of a puzzle finally being lined up together. Like this is where they were always meant to be.

When Athena pulls back, Zekei stares at her in shock.

His cheeks are visibly darkened, and his pupils are darker, his gaze never flutters off her. “Wha…-” He starts mumbling when Athena presses a finger to his lips, winking at him.

“For good luck,” She assures.

Zekei’s surprised expression finally fades off, turning into a warm and wide smile.

“We’ll continue this later?” He asks, voice suddenly mountains more confident.

“Definitely.” She promises, and presses the button for the door to open, both rushing in.

She takes her seat in the center of the room, everyone hanging their eyes at her and await orders.

Athena takes a deep breathe, confident. “Prepare for impact!”

[sachiro]

The Many Faces of Victor Nikiforov - Episode 12

As of today, it’s been one full year since Yuri!!! on Ice aired its final (first season) episode and while that saddens me, it also bring me joy because the experience was such a ride. And then going through the episodes from Victor’s perspective in this set has also been very enlightening to me as well.

But sentimentality out of the way, episode 12 was a roller coaster in and of itself. We see a couple of sides to Victor that we hadn’t seen pushed to the degree they had been and the idea that he is any kind of “god” is swiftly and firmly torn down and thrown out the window.

But rather than trying to sum up an episode in the intro, let’s delve right into the set itself. Enjoy!

Out of all the clips in the initial hotel scene, I decided to display the one that actually didn’t have any tears. We all know that he cried and we’ve seen every moment of it (I’m sure) multiple times over and in slow motion. But what I’d like to talk about is what impressions Yuuri’s declaration would have left with Victor and the shocked expression he displays here is the best visual representation I could find. Over the course of the series, Victor has learned to live and love and really put himself out there – not as a skater but as a person. By this point, he felt like he had finally reached a point where he could be happy. As he stated in episode 10, it wasn’t until he was able to get away from skating that he could think and really consider what he wants from his life. And he thought that maybe, just maybe, the world might be ready to let go of his skating because he’s certainly reached a point where he could finally hang up his skates and pursue the rest of his life. However, it seems like it just wasn’t time yet. Not only were he and Yuuri not on the same page this entire time but Victor naively thought that he could continue on as Yuuri’s coach while building a life outside of his skating and that the world would just let him go. But Yuuri, as someone here who represents not just himself but all of Victor’s fans as well, is not ready to simply let him fade out and retire. Victor is correct when he calls Yuuri selfish because the words he says along with the sentiment he imparts leave one strong message with Victor that we then see echo through the entire rest of the episode: the most important thing about you, to me, is your skating.

For this second gif, I want to revisit the concept of Victor’s media face. Every other time we’ve seen it before now, it’s been called up easily. He’d slip it on, smile at full power, and blind us all with his charisma. But here, even with years and years of practice, it has such obvious cracks. I couldn’t quite capture it in this gif but if you check the moments before and after then you’ll see in the way he walks that he has a definite weight on his shoulders and he just looks so… sad. The night in the hotel has obviously left a large burden on him and he’s clearly still thinking about it – to the point where he can’t even summon up the energy to put on his media face. Even in episode 1 during the GPF when (as we find out later) he was at an all-time low, he could still pull up that smile for the cameras. So, if nothing else, we can see just how much Yuuri’s words, and the sentiment that Victor took from them, has affected him.

For this third gif, let’s talk about parallels. My first thought when I saw this clip was that it looked very familiar – as it turns out, it’s almost exactly like episode 7 as they headed out to the rink; the only difference being that Yuuri is in a very different headspace (and hasn’t been crying beforehand). But what does that mean for Victor? Well, last time they prefaced a skate with this, he ended up taking a step forward with his life & love by kissing Yuuri on international TV. So suffice it to say that something big and life changing will most likely come from this program. All that and Victor is still upset with how their disagreement went down of course.

I love this fourth gif in the context of what Yuuri is saying to make Victor react this way. Since the beginning of this episode, Victor has reverted to a version of himself that we haven’t seen since episode 4 – the Victor that feels like his self-worth comes solely from his skating and that he’s required to put up a mask of whatever others need/want of him to be accepted and/or loved. As Victor feels like Yuuri told him in the hotel that Victor’s worth lays in his coaching, he decides that that’s what he’ll be for Yuuri. It feels like Victor took his initial sentiment from episode 4 (where he asks Yuuri what he would like Victor to be (what mask to wear)) and his line from episode 11’s kiss & cry (where he wonders what he can do to support Yuuri through the GPF) and combined them with his impression from the start of this episode. Victor feels like he’s got it all figured out. He can do masks, he’s been doing them forever, and if Yuuri needs him to be a coach then he can absolutely do that. But he quickly finds out that that impression wasn’t right either when Yuuri tells Victor that he just needs to be Victor. Thus the expression we see in the gif. And what’s the first thing Victor does when he lets down the mask? He unleashes some of his anger and hurt on Yuuri (“I walked away from what could have possibly been my final season skating and for what, this?”) before turning back to an expression of love as Victor smiles at and hugs Yuuri. Needless to say, I feel like this puts Victor in a very vulnerable position as he sends Yuuri off to go skate what could be both Yuuri’s final performance as a skater and Victor’s final program as a coach (to Yuuri).

This fifth gif is the culmination of every message Yuuri has tried to send Victor while skating this final program. As we can assume from the theme and pattern of the show, the messages got through (because these skaters seem to be able to understand the deep meaning behind skating programs better than explicit text). So what kind of feelings and impressions would Victor have now? Yuuri was saying that he wants to meet Victor as a challenger, that he wants to continue skating with Victor, and that Victor taking the time to coach Yuuri was not a waste. Victor is obviously touched by all of this. It brings up the topic of Victor wanting to find someone who could really challenge him in the arena of competitive skating, as he was undoubtedly lonely standing alone at the top. But it also brings back the initial impression that Yuuri re-introduced to Victor at the start of the episode; that his worth to Yuuri (and others) lays entirely in what he can provide in the arena of competitive skating.

This sixth gif is easily my favourite of the entire series and it’s earned that spot for being excessively fond but also very complicated and not what it seems on the surface. This is the moment where Victor makes his decision to return to skating. Not, as many might believe, immediately after Yuuri finishes his program but right here. He throws a comment out at Yuuri which underneath is actually a choice (this isn’t the first time he’s done this either). Victor is sitting on a fence. He wants two things, life and love. For life, he could continue on as a coach or branch out into other areas of the competitive figure skating scene, but would undoubtedly retire from competitive figure skating. As for love, he wants to stay with Yuuri and make him as happy as he can. Thus, in an attempt to achieve the latter with the possibility for also getting the former, he lets Yuuri make the call. Does he latch onto Victor’s pride as his coach or Victor’s fire as a competitor? As it turns out, Yuuri (unknowingly of the grand effect he has on Victor) chooses the second option, and so that’s what Victor decides to do. Many consider this choice to be a happy one but would Victor’s desires for a life off the ice really have changed so drastically from the scene in the hotel room where just the thought of having to trade Yuuri for it had him bursting into tears? In the end, as I watch the smile on Victor’s face slide off just slightly in this clip, I can’t help but think that this wasn’t the choice he would have made for himself.

For this seventh gif, we’re going to take a turn away from all the heavy emotions surrounding Victor’s future career/life prospects and look at his relationship with Chris. They say that Chris has been Victor’s biggest rival, but as we can see by the disparity of their scores in episode 1 (and considering that Victor even left out an element in his Stammi) the term is obviously used quite loosely. We know that from his conversations with Chris that they’re good friends but Chris doesn’t light a fire under Victor competitively the same way Yuuri or Yurio might. Chris is really good for sure, but he just isn’t up to Victor’s level. And we can also see how Victor feels about that when all of his expressions as he watches Chris skate in the GPF are happy and supportive with no complicated feelings; a contrast to the strong emotions he feels as he watches Yuuri and Yurio on the ice breaking his records. Chris tries throughout the season to bring Victor back to the ice; first he makes a program that is basically an attempt to one-up Yuuri’s Eros and pull Victor’s attention then by expressing confusion when Victor is acting in a way that feels out of character to him by not doing as expected. In the end, however, Chris ends up disappointed because he failed to bring Victor back to the ice by being a challenger in his own right and that upset shows in his reaction to Victor’s uncomplicated support for his skating (as seen in this gif).

For this eighth gif, I want to look at Victor’s relationship with physical touch. Throughout the series, we can notice a pattern where the only times Victor will touch another person is when they have initiated that kind of contact first (flirty touches only after Yuuri starts it at the banquet, hugs only after Yuuri starts it pre-Onsen on Ice, etc). One of the only exceptions is here where he grabs and hugs Yurio. This hug, I feel, holds a lot of complication emotions. Victor has been putting up a strong face for Yuuri because he didn’t want him to see that Victor’s not entirely on board with the decision to go back to skating. Even here, when Yurio presses on a soft point by asking if that means Yuuri will be retiring, the mask instantly drops and Victor hides it by initiating a hug that he tightens in the next moment in a desperate grasp for comfort. Victor has a hard time seeking out comfort in other people; being an introvert, he’s used to seeking it out on his own. But there are times when feelings overflow, and this is definitely one of them.

Aside from the very in-your-face beacon ring flare, I find Victor’s drastic shifts in emotional expressions in this scene to be particularly fascinating. He goes from savage to silly to serious to shocked to excited to proud all in the space of a single minute. This impossible-to-pin-down flow of emotions, I feel, is because he has a lot of feelings about everything he’s experienced since that night in the hotel and, in the end, they all just kind of burst out at once. The fact that his emotional regulator has shut down should already speak for how much Victor is really feeling but taking a step back and looking at the scene in the context of the journey Victor has been through in this episode alone is truly a lot more heartbreaking than this scene might have originally intended.

Regardless of the obvious emotional turmoil Victor has been through in this episode, everything leads to this final moment. A moment where Victor is greeting Yuuri as they reunite a few months after separating to pursue the rest of their competitive figure skating season; the fondness and love in his expression is undeniable and the joy at seeing Yuuri again is clear in his expression. No matter how Victor might feel about everything that happened during the GPF, in the end he’s left with exactly what we see here. I do believe that there will be more to delve into in the coming movie and going forward regarding Victor’s career, but for now we can end this series off on a positive note as Victor greets Yuuri in St. Petersburg and they take the next steps forward together.

I feel like this episode was definitely the most emotionally exhausting to write out of them all. As is probably obvious from the length, I have lots of feelings about this episode. Hopefully it was enlightening and I look forward to perhaps expanding on some of the topics I’ve covered in this 12 episode series into more fleshed out posts! Thank you everyone for taking this journey with me and I’ll see you all for Duetto!

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [Duetto]

Bonus because the way Victor grasps Yuuri’s hand before sending him off says so much without the need for words:

[heyyitslindsay]

Who You Are When No One is Looking (Bill Hybels)

Choosing consistency, resisting compromise.

Character is what we do when no one is looking.

People of character go beyond the warm fuzzies to the hard work of loving.

Character cannot be developed through good resolutions and checklists. It usually requires a lot of hard work, a little pain and years of faithfulness before any of the virtues are consistently noticeable in us.

Jesus Christ—the only person who has ever consistently excelled in every virtue we could name—offers to develop His character in us as we follow Him.

No matter how wonderful your character is, it will never be wonderful enough to earn God’s approval.

Salvation is a free gift. Hard work cannot earn it; neither can good behavior or sterling character. (Ephesians 2:8-9)

Character is our world’s most pressing need. If all [7] billion of us had strong characters, there would be no wars, no hunger, no family breakups, no crime, no poverty.

ENDANGERED CHARACTER QUALITIES:

Courage

Disciple

Vision

Endurance

COURAGE 

Overcoming crippling fears

Every single day we make choices that show whether we are courageous or cowardly. We choose between the right thing and the convenient thing, sticking to a conviction or caving in for the sake of comfort, greed, or approval. We choose either to take a carefully thought-out risk or to crawl into a shrinking shell of safety, security, and inactivity. We choose either to believe in God and trust Him, eventhough we do not always understand His ways, or to second-guess Him and cower in corners of doubt and fear.

We face these choices so frequently that we forget that we are even making them, and we sometimes find ourselves going with the flow instead of carefully making courageous choices.

It is painful to own up to the truth of our behavior. It takes courage.

Cowards do not last long in their spiritual pilgrimages. They shrivel up and disappear. It takes enormous courage to repent and become a Christian. 

Relational Courage

It takes courage to say “This is me. I’m not proud of it—in fact, I’m a little embarrassed by it—but this is who I am.” “Our marriage is in serious trouble and we’ve got to do something about it.”

It takes courage to fight off the “greener grass” temptations, to work through layer after layer of masks, cover-ups and defense mechanisms, to keep working on that marriage/relationship year after year.

If you want to raise your children the way God wants them raised, you will have to let the little tyrants get mad. Show some courage and say, “You don’t intimidate me, little one. This is the right thing to do, and this is what you’re going to do.”

April 15 is a great day to separate courageous people from cowards, because that is when moral courage hits us in the wallets.

It takes courage to be sexually pure and not be of this world. 

How to Grow in Courage

If you want to grow in courage, make a calculated choice to increase your exposure to courageous people. Read autobiographies of courageous people; articles about courage; and Bible stories about people like Moses, Daniel, Esther, and Paul who, though petrified, went ahead in faith and grew.

You grow in courage as you allow you mind to be transformed. 

We all need courage and God wants us to have it. “God did not give us a spirit of timidity but a spirit of power.” But you cannot be still and expect courage to come and find you. You have to go after it.

DISCIPLINE

Achieving success through delayed gratification

Some people seem to succeed at everything they try. They have successful careers; involved in church and community activities; they are active, growing Christians—they are even physically fit. Why? DISCIPLINE.

Discipline is delayed gratification.

Delaying gratification is a process of scheduling the pain and pleasure of life in such a way as to enhance the pleasure by meeting and experiencing the pain first and getting it over with. 

Well-disciplined students attack their responsibilities as soon as possible after school. 

If young professionals endure the entry-level discomfort for a while, the payoff will eventually come in the form of more flexible hours, higher pay, longer vacations, more responsibility, more interesting tasks.

“If I discipline myself to spend ten or fifteen minutes early in the morning in a quiet place getting a proper perspective on my walk with the Lord— writing down some thoughts, reading my Bible, listening to a tape, praying—the whole rest of my day seems much more satisfying.”

Discipline in marriage is not letting all things slip that they become intolerable. Instead, it says “Let’s go through the pain right now so that we’ll have a longer time of pleasure ahead.”

Hard work during the children’s strong, early, impressionable years usually forms strong character in them. Parents who discipline themselves to do this, trusting God for the strength to keep going, are likely to enjoy the payoff of a lifetime of solid relationships with their children.

Same goes with handling finances. You experience pain or discomfort when you make a conscious choice not to spend money on something you would really like to have, but as your nest egg grows and your investments mature, you say “I did the right way.”

Once you make up your mind that the only decent way to live is to schedule the pain and tough challenges first so that you can enjoy the pleasure, the rewards, and the payoff later, then you must make ADVANCED DECISIONS as to how you are going to practice discipline in the various dimensions of your life. Without an advanced decision, we would buy anything we see on sale that we don’t need and is not in our budget. Hence, have to create a budget and stick to it. We can look at the figures and ask “Is it in there, or isn’t it?” If it isn’t, that’s too bad, the decision has been made.

ACCOUNTABILITY: Ask two or three friends to hold you accountable for your decisions. Tell them, “I’ve made these advance decisions because I really want the payoff. Please hold me to them.” This is a tremendous boost to discipline. In addition, God says in His word that the Holy Spirit helps you produce discipline in your life. (Gal. 5:23)

Discipline will always pay off in whatever area you apply it.

DELAYED GRATIFICATION + ADVANCED DECISION MAKING + ACCOUNTABILITY = DISCIPLINE

VISION

Looking beyond the obvious

There are two prisoners who were looking at the same window. But one saw bars while the other saw stars. The difference? VISION.

There are only a few visionaries because it is much easier to just go with the flow and do what’s expected. It takes courage to break out of conventional thought patterns. It takes confidence and daring to risk failure with a new idea or a new approach. 

Visionaries then to fail many times before they ever succeed, and most people feel too fragile to take risks. They would rather be safe and secure.

What is VISION?

Vision is the God-given ability to see possible solutions to the everyday problems of life. Visionary people are solution-oriented, not problem-oriented. Visionary people face the same problems everyone else faces; but rather than get paralyzed by their problems, visionaries immediately commit themselves to finding a solution.  Almost as a reflex reaction to the problem they say, “The situation is bad, all right, but no problem is bigger than God. And right now, before I get bogged down, I need to start down the path of solving it.”

Steps to PROBLEM-SOLVING

With men this is impossible, but with God all things are possible. (Matthew 19:26) Haul it back and hang on to the truth. God is bigger than your problems.

If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask God, who gives to all men generously and without reproaching, and it will be given to him. (James 1:5) God will fulfill his promises.

Don’t have pity parties. Instead of people who will just sympathize, meet solution-oriented people who are also in line with the word of God. 

List the 4 or 5 best solutions to the problem. It’s okay to tremble as you take the first few steps to solving the problem but you would rather move ahead in fear than stay stuck in a bad situation.

No matter what kind of problem you have, you can find a solution if you are willing to be visionary.

SEEING BENEATH THE SURFACE

Visionary people don’t settle for the obvious. They look beneath the surface for the other person’s uniqueness. They look at the heart, the character, the hopes, and the fears that motivate the person’s behavior. 

[sfw-haikyuu-nsfw]

It’s Your Turn

So, I did it! I wrote the DJ AU!

I had to do a little research to see what I felt was the best type of music that Hinata would make and I think I found it! I used Porter Robinson as the inspiration behind all of the scenes and as Hinata’s general sound (side note: there’s a part of me that desperately wants him to go under a different name to produce Happy Hardcore music, which would be freaking AWESOME). But I will be tagging songs throughout the fic (this one only has two), so please feel free to listen and enjoy!

So, this is based on the Netflix original film XOXO, and much of the plot is the same - because I am unoriginal like that - but I did try to tweak things around a little bit!

And it’s kinda long? It’s just the beginning, but I’ll be adding part two probably - hopefully - tomorrow! Hope you enjoy!

P.s. This somehow turned into a KenHina story as well??? Also, like, there ended up being some DaiSuga??? I hope that doesn’t bother anybody, lol.

P.s.s. XOXO has not made it’s way to Japan. But I kept the event name since I’m uncreative like that. Also, I don’t think the Japanese rave scene has kandi culture? (If I’m remembering right?) It’s primarily a westernized part of the rave community, but since it’s the part that I am both a part of and familiar with, I threw it in here. Hope everyone is okay with that!

A groan. That’s how his day started. And then there was that annoying jingle coming from his bedside table, a song by AronChupa that has been played far too many times. God, if he didn’t know any better, he’d think someone was calling–

Hinata’s hand shot out to smack around the table surface in search of the obnoxious device, the damn thing seeming to be able to elude him so easily. “Hello?” he was calling before his head lifted from the pillow surface, before he had even accepted the call, “Hello?”

“Oi!” jeez, right now? “I’ve been trying to get ahold of you all morning, idiot!”

“Kageyama, do you know what time it is?” Hinata whined on the other end, his body shifting under the sheets of his blanket until he was flat on his beck, his gaze focused on the poster filled ceiling above. Each one bore the name and amazing art that went along with the event he had attended - Electric Daisy Carnival, Tomorrowland, and Ultra Japan. All of them held a story behind their colors, one that would forever be unique to that place and those people.

“It’s time for you to get your ass out of bed,” Kageyama was saying, his voice sounding hurried on the other end, followed closely by the sound of a voice coming over a loud speaker.

Hinata pulled the phone away from his ear hurriedly as he forced himself to sit up, blankets pooling at his waist. “Dude, where are you? Are you working?”

“Shut up,” came a hasty reply, “it’s not important. What is though that you need to pack all your tech and be ready for me to pick you up.” In the next instant Kageyama’s voice sounded far away, saying something along the lines of ‘no, ma’am, we don’t sell the packaged cheese by slices’ which in itself answered the red-heads earlier question.

But now his mind was lingering on the words that were just spoken to him. Pack his tech? Why? There was no party going on - though it wouldn’t surprise him to hear that Nishinoya had decided to throw an impromptu one at any given point in time. “We don’t have a gig,” the response was lame, an obvious statement that Kageyama would know. The grumpy man was his manager, after all.

There was a small curse and some more shuffling on the other end before the sound of a door opening and closing could be heard. “You do now, you’re playing at XOXO. Tonight.”

“If I open this door and you’re still in bed I’m gonna–”

“You’re gonna what?” there was a tone of annoyance that slithered past Kenma’s lips, his eyes narrowed on the door that was currently the only divide between himself and Kuroo.

There was a small shuffling of feet before the door was thrown open, revealing the tall man wearing a full body black cat onesie. The hood was pulled over his head, hiding most of his normally outrageous hair, and the fabric hung loose over his entire body with the sleeves rolled up to reveal heaps of kandi bracelets.

“I’ll just wait longer,” the taller huffed as he shuffled across the room to seat himself on Kenma’s bed, his eyes rising to take in his friend. “You’re haven’t dressed yet, right?”

Kenma’s brows furrowed, his eyes dropping down to take in his attire. Jeans, his favorite and most comfortable pair, and an average T-shirt with a red hoodie pulled over the top of it. The outfit was both easy to wear and surely not going to make him regret any life choices as the night went on - unlike others that he knew. “Why?”

“You can’t wear that!” Kuroo was jumping to his feet, hand shooting out to quickly pull up a song to play through the small room. “You’re going to XOXO, for crying out loud!”

Now it was Kenma’s turn to seat himself upon the surface of his own bed, his gaze watching Kuroo start to dig through the confines of his closet. Yes, he was going to XOXO, one of the biggest raves to hit the Asian continent since the electric music world had found itself on their side of the world. Despite it, he wasn’t as thrilled about the event as, say Kuroo or Bokuto were - the two had planned everything and were both to be wearing those stupid onesies, though Bokuto’s would be an owl.

But that’s not to say that he wasn’t excited. Kenma was very excited to be hearing his favorite music live. To experience it on a physical level and not just through a pair of headphones; he’d be able to feel it. All his favorite DJs would be there - Illenium, KSHMR, Jai Wolf, and–

“Did you hear they added SHUYO to the line up last minute?”

Kenma’s head popped up instantly, his posture straightening. “Seriously?” the excitement edged into his voice and he could feel the smile pulling up at the corner of his lips. Maybe this festival wasn’t turning out to be as bad as he was anticipating it to be.

SHUYO was a Soundcloud DJ that Kenma had been following for years. The kid started out merely throwing mixes of songs together before actually remixing them himself. And just in the last year he came out with some original tracks that simply blew Kenma away. To hear those mixes and songs live… he could already feel the goosebumps start to gather over his skin.

“Yeah,” Kuroo continued, pulling out various articles of clothing to throw them on the bed next to where Kenma sat, “guess one of the performers couldn’t make it or some shit and they booked him. Pretty crazy for his first big festival.” He turned to the shorter, his hands pulling pieces out from the pile and shoving them at Kenma’s sweater covered chest. “Now put these on, we gotta go!”

“Wait,” Hinata breathed, his gaze moving over to the clock that sat on his desk with his mixing equipment, “back up. Start over.” Because he was sure Kageyama was taking some kind of drugs to be telling the story he was.

“I said,” the annoyance was creeping up into his voice, but there was the lingering hint of a smile, “I got you a fucking slot at XOXO.”

“They liked the track?” he still couldn’t wrap his mind around what was happening. This was insane, it was surreal, it was simply something out of someone’s crazy trip; he was going to be performing at XOXO in… eight hours? 

“Wait, holy shit, Kageyama, how the hell am I gonna be able to get down there?” The panic was beginning to rise in his voice as he started scrambling from his bed, shoulder pinching the phone to his ear as he haphazardly began packing up the entirety of his tech. This was all happening way too fast. “I don’t have a car, I can’t get down there. Fuck, Kageyama, I can’t just do–”

“You can!” the words took Hinata by surprise, because even though Kageyama was his best friend and manager, it was still rare to hear such blatant words of encouragement. “Now, shut up for five seconds and listen.”

The plan, though much more elaborate that Hinata was hoping for in such a situation, seemed quite simple. Kageyama would pick him up in an hour, take him to where a party bus was heading to the festival, and it should be smooth sailing from there. They would meet up there for Hinata’s set and it would end up being the big break they had been waiting for.

“This is happening,” his voice sounded distant to himself as he struggled with pulling on his skinny jeans with the phone still trapped between his shoulder and ear, “like, this is really happening.” He was getting his shot to make it big.

Lips touched against each other gently, the late morning light filtered through the crooked blinds that draped over the window. Bare skin slide slowly against skin as the two bodies among the tangled blankets tried to wake themselves. It was a morning they were both simultaneously waiting for and dreading. It was their last festival; the last one for a long time.

“We have to get up,” Suga cooed, his mouth pressed to Daichi’s shoulders as he pulled his legs up under himself, “we have a bus to catch.”

“Just,” Daichi’s voice wavered a moment, his arms slipping themselves around Suga’s waist to bring him back to his place against his chest, “just a few more minutes.” He couldn’t bring himself to want to get out of that bed with Suga there in his arms. Maybe if they stayed there the day would never end, they’d remain wrapped around each other forever.

A laugh escaped from Suga’s lips as he pushed himself back up, lips finding Daichi’s easily before removing himself from the mattress entirely. “Come on, we have a festival to get to,” he was excited, very excited, despite the feeling of dread that lingered in the back of his mind. What he needed to do was lose himself in the music, let himself be carried away to a world that wasn’t the one he was about to experience. Just for a single night. “Plus, I have to finish packing.”

Daichi stopped, his smile fading at those simple words. Because, yes, Suga was packing. It was a fact that he had been trying to bring up for countless weeks, one that was always pushed aside and saved for a later conversation. But they were running out of time to have that conversation, Suga was leaving for America tomorrow, after all.

“Hey, how about we talk,” Daichi offered as he sat up, his hand reaching out to gently grasp at Suga’s, their fingers easily linking themselves together. Daichi’s brown eyes stared at them, his mind working hard at remembering how those fingers fit so perfectly against his own. “This is our last fest together, we–”

“Oh my gosh!” Suga now had his eyes on the screen of his phone, a smile stretching wide - too wide - across his features as he moved across the studio apartment to the kitchen, “You’ll never guess who’s gonna be playing tonight!”

“Babe, really, I want to talk about us and–”

“SHUYO got a slot! We’re gonna be one of the first one’s to see SHUYO perform at a festival!”

A deep sigh was pulled from Daichi’s chest, a twinge attacking at his heart as he watched the blond he loved so much plug in his phone to play the very song that had conquered their home since they first heard it. The way Suga’s body moved with the beat brought a smile to his lips despite the hurt that ebbed in his chest, because that man was Daichi’s entire world.

He supposed he could pretend that he wasn’t about to lose it when the sun came up over their festival tomorrow. Their last festival.