#our days are numbered might as well forget about holding back right

[wardenparker]

CONGRATS on 2.5k!! You deserve every follow! ❤️ For the co-writer (along with @absurdthirst) of the Whiskey fic that made brain go BRRRRR and got me into reading/writing our fave corndog, how about our Agent with the prompts: "Should we make it official?" and/or "Put me down!" Have fun!

Agent Jack 'Whiskey' Daniels. 2,300 words. "Put me down!"/"Should we make it official?" (Sequel to: "Wait! Please don't go!"/"There is no 'us'." ) Co-written with @absurdthirst

When Jack hits the door, heads turn. The sharp, confident gait of a man on a mission who will not be stopped just shimmers in the air around him. Eyes sharp and narrowed, they scan the floor, looking for someone. For you.

“Can I help you, sir?” It’s the weekend, so a greeter is stationed at the door of the upscale retail store, to help direct customers through the maze of shelves and displays. It is the middle of the city so there are plenty of different kinds who come in every day, but this is definitely the first cowboy that’s ever set foot inside the Lexington Avenue Sephora.

Jack says your name and throws the woman a charming grin. “She’s helped me before so I’m hoping to see her again.” He lies, knowing that you won’t talk to him otherwise.

"Sure! Of course." The new girl smiles warmly, blushing a little as she's easily taken in by the charm that drips off of Jack like dew drops. "She's in fragrances today. All the way at the back of the store."

“Thank you kindly.” He tips his hat like a gentleman and starts for the back of the store. The past two weeks have been miserable. He’s drank, he’s raged, he’s blamed you for expecting too much. Then, when you rejected the bouquet of flowers he had sent to your parent’s house after misusing Statesman resources to find where you were, he had come to a hard truth. He had done you wrong. He hadn’t spoken from heart, not made himself uncomfortable for the sake of growth. Holding onto the fear of losing you if he loved you had caused him to lose you. And no surprise, he had loved you, because he is miserable without your voice in his ear, your fragrance on his sheets and your love in his heart. Now, he’s here to get you back.

You're there in the last aisle, helping a young lady find a specific gift she came looking for, in the uniform dress that you hate but tolerate for the sake of your new job. It doesn't pay well enough and it doesn't distract you enough to dull the constant aching hurt inside you after having walked out of Jack's place, but that's why you had started it the second after arriving back at your parents' place. To try to forget him. It isn't working. Not at all.

"I'll be right wit—" The figure looming a few feet away was only a shadow. It's the second you look up that your mouth runs dry and you feel sick to your stomach all over again. "I'm not sure I can help you, sir," you manage, hating the way your heart wings with so much hope. Hope that he wouldn't be here unless he had come for a good goddamn reason. But you have to stay strong. "You might want to try elsewhere."

“But sugar—” Jack drawls, grinning in pure relief at seeing your pretty face again somewhere else than in his dreams or the photos that haunt his walls. “You’re the only one who can help me.”

“Then you’ll have to wait.” Jack’s appearance has thrown you off completely, but you manage to finish up with your customer and take a deep breath — even hide your shaking hands behind your back — before you look at him again. “You came to my work?” Your voice is incredulous. Quiet. “It had better because you’re out of cologne.”

“You blocked my number and your daddy— well, I didn’t think you’d want there to be a brawl on your parent’s front lawn.” He huffs, annoyed that the old man had waved a hammer at him. He knows he could disarm him, but that would make you even madder at him.

“Ginger helped you find me?” You guess with disappointment. But Ginger is his friend. You can’t blame her for being on his side. “I left Jack. And I did it on purpose. Hell, we didn’t even have enough of a relationship to call it a breakup.”

“We had a relationship.” Jack snorts. “We have one still, this ain’t over, sugar.” He promises, “Not by a long shot.”

"We can't do this here." If he wants to have it out all over again, the least he can do is pay you the courtesy of not getting you in trouble at work. This is definitely going to get you in trouble. "I'm not going to lose my job because you can't take no for an answer."

“I love you, sugar.” Jack breaths out, finally saying the words he’s needed to for a long time. The words you deserve.

If there had been anything in your hands, you would have dropped it immediately. As it is, you feel like crumbling – falling down on the spot or running to him – something utterly undignified that would definitely get you written up at minimum. Your eyes mist and your shaking hands tangle around each other, but you can't break down on the sales floor. And beyond that? As much as you want to believe him, to let the anger and the heartache drip away so you can just go home to him where you want to be? It seems completely unbelievable to you that you walking out his door was somehow the magic tonic he needed to learn those damn words.

"My manager is watching," you murmur to him, glancing past him to the petite ice queen several yard away who has zeroed in on an employee not forcing product on every single person in the store. "We can't��it's not—you have to go, Jack."

“I’m not leaving.” He frowns, tossing the overly made-up manager a single look before focusing on you. “Did you not hear what I said?” He asks. “I love you, sugar. I need you.”

"I heard you." The water pressing at the back of your eyes is proof of that, and the way your voice cracks, but you can feel your manager's eyes drilling into your face and that gaze is angry. "I heard you. And we will talk about this, but I can't afford to lose this job and that might happen if you don't go."

“You don’t need this job.” Jack reminds you. You hadn’t had it when you left, so it’s not like you’ve been here for years.

"I have bills to pay," you remind him, rolling that tick in your jaw backward a little and swallowing the bitter pill that you decided to take all on your own. The undefined thing you had going with Jack had come with a big allowance, but it wasn't a sugar situation. That would have at least been a title. "Therefore, I need to keep my job. And the girl who just got hired can get sent out the door just as easily."

“You don’t need to worry about that.” He shakes his head and reaches for your hand. “Come on, sugar.”

“Why, Jack?” You have to keep your voice down as you snatch your hand back, but it’s still a hiss. “So I can be your stay-at-home friend-with-benefits again?”

Jack has many, many faults and one of them is impatience. His jaw clenches and he knows that he needs to get you alone to talk to you, others starting to warily gaze your way. Instead of answering you, Jack drops his shoulder and scoops you up like it’s nothing.

“Oh my fucking god, Jack!” The screech it earns from you is nearly instant, knowing that you have absolutely just lost your job over his stunt and not really knowing what in the hell he plans to do now. “Put me down! Right now!” He’s stronger than you and you don’t stand a chance of wriggling free in the dress you’re wearing. It will be up over your head if you even try.

“Nope.” His gait is just as determined as he passes by your manager, her jaw on the floor. “She quits.” He tells her and continues on to the door and outside.

“JACK!” Your shit is still in your locker and that’s going to be a black mark on your resume, but right now all you can do is beat your fists on his back and shoulder in protest. “What the hell are you doing? Put me down!”

By his Bronco, Jack finally relents, bending down and setting you on your feet. “Now, we can talk.”

Huffing and puffing like you’re about to summon a personal tornado, you don’t even hear him for all the blood pounding in your ears. “What the fuck was that?! Do you know how embarrassed I’m going to be when I have to go back in there and get my purse?”

“It’ll be the last time you go in there.” He predicts and he smirks at you. “And you’ll be flustered too badly to even think about what those crusted old biddies think.”

It’s a reasonable threat, considering how good he is at flustering you. The whole reason you’ve been so upset is because you do love Jack and you wanted this to work out. But standing out there on the street pressed between him and his Bronco? You feel like you’re about to be sold a familiar looking head of cattle after your own just happened to go missing.

“So what’s the play here?” You work very hard to keep your tone skeptical. “You tell me how much you need me so that I’ll come back to you and then nothing really changes? As usual?” He did say the words, but you’re so scared to believe them. To believe him. There’s a chance he doesn’t mean it and that terrifies you.

His eyes narrow, aware that he deserves that little barb but he shakes his head. “No. That’s not what’s going to happen, baby girl.” He huffs. “You are going to go get your purse and then I’m taking you home, where you belong. And I’m going to make you scream my name before you fall asleep on my chest as we plan.”

That all sounds…ridiculously good, actually. It would be a relief to go back to him. To not have to miss him anymore and feel like your heart has been split in two. But all you do is raise one eyebrow in a show of disbelief. “Plan what, exactly?”

“You’re marrying me sugar, today, tomorrow, or the next day.” He growls, smashing his lips against yours and moaning in relief when you melt against him. Pulling away to caress your cheek. “What do you say, baby girl? Should we make it official?”

“Do you…really mean it?” Months of telling him that you wanted to know where you stood with him — wanted commitment from him — only to be sidelined or waylaid or otherwise put off for just a little while longer, they all melt away in the face of the biggest offer of commitment he could possibly make.

“Gotta ring in my pocket.” He confesses, leaning in and brushing your nose with his. “Sugar, I’ve been such a damn fool.” He murmurs. “I thought I could avoid losing you if I didn’t admit I love you. And I just hurt you, something I never wanted to do.”

“That doesn’t make a whole lot of sense cowboy.” It makes Jack Sense, which is not much at all, but still your arms twine around his waist right there on the sidewalk. “But I’m just gonna brush past how long it took you to show up at the party and embrace the fact you’re here at all. Because I didn’t want to leave. I miss the hell out of you.”

“I’m a damaged soul, sugar.” He admits softly. “But I want to be better, I want to give you everything.” He sighs and leans in to kiss you again. “Come home?”

“Everyone is damaged somehow, cowboy.” Melting measurably more with another press of his lips to yours, you lean into the solid wall of Jack’s body completely. “We just have to talk about things from now on, so we don’t get more damage along the way. Okay?”

“Whatever it takes, baby girl.” Jack promises, wrapping his arms around you and holding tight. “I’m never letting you go.”

You’ve cried so much these last few weeks, it’s almost startling to realize that the tears in your eyes now are happy ones. Ecstatic. Overjoyed at having your Jack back in your life, and for the right reasons. If you were separated by more than a few inches it would have been a lunge to kiss him again, but as it is you wrap up in him and hold on tight. “You really have that ring? Because I’m gonna flash it everywhere when I go back into that damn place to get my purse, and then you’re gonna take me home. Our home.”

“I sure do, baby girl.” He has to take one hand out from around you and it almost kills him, but he wants to prove how serious he is. Pulling a small black velvet box from his sports coat. “Tell me what you think. If you don’t like it, we can go pick out any ring you want.”

"How could I not like it?" It's from him and that's all that matters. But the second he pops the little velvet box open, the tears in your eyes spill over and your heart is in your throat. "Baby...it's...it's...I love it. I love you." It's beautiful, and it's real, and he means it.

Leaving was the hardest thing you ever had to do, but if it was the kick in the pants that you both needed to know that the love you have is real? Then it was worth a little ache.

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

My Masterlist!

[muchmossymess]

A Revali Fanfic Recommendation

I urge you all to put your life on hold for a moment and go read this brilliant fanfiction:

A hundred years after the fall of Hyrule to Calamity Ganon, and the hero Link has finally sealed the darkness and freed the Divine Beasts of their curse - and with it, their pilots are finally free. But not just as spirits. Awake once again, the four Champions of old have a second chance at life and must re-adjust to this future world with their decendants. Well - all except for one Champion, who doesn't have a decentant. Or even anyone left alive that knew him. Teba is happy to take in his revived ancient idol as one of his own, but sharing a living space with a hundred year old Champion with an ego the size of his divine beast and who might have some issues he's not willing to share can be a lot sometimes and they don't always see eye to eye. Revali thinks he should return to leading the new generation of Rito warriors. Teba thinks this actual child should never have been leading warriors or fighting a war in the first place. Tulin is just excited to have the infamous Rito Champion in his house.

Beautifully written and lovingly crafted, this baby can fit so much trauma and whump into the most gut-wrenching and heat-breakingly found family story you may ever read. 130,000 words, 36 chapters (and still regularly updating!), and a CRIMINALLY low number of kudos. If that doesn't sway you, here is some gushing under the cut <3

You think you've read a champions revival fic before? This will have you saying "how the FUCK have I not seen this before" and completely change the way you view everything (mild exaggeration. m i l d). We have all of your favourite revali tropes: being a dick and getting owned, being a dick and being right, getting own and never showing those feelings to the light of day, getting killed, getting unkilled and loved, showing emotions but being super weird and revali about it, bonding with tulin!!, bonding with teba and the rest of rito village, bonding with the champions, having panic attacks and trauma, vah medoh being the best ever, being a terrifying force of nature, being an idiot kid, and so much more!

Do you like grumpy dad teba? Do you like revali swallowing his pride? Do you like revali immediately spitting his pride back up and being a bitchy bird? Do you like mipha and revali as gossip buddies? Do you like the complete and utter fool revali makes of himself everytime he so much as hears the name link? Do you like people seeing right through his facade and calling him out on it?

AND NOT TO MENTION THE WORLD BUILDING??? this fic is so in depth of the political climates, racism, lore, changes in culture during times of war, colonisation, biology of the races and just fucking everything?? It adds so much life to the world of hyrule I am genuinely shocked at how much this person clearly loves these games (botw/totk/aoc) and they are able to incorporate all of this amazing information in a way that flows so naturally and just hhrnngngg I am fucking insane about it. THE SCIENCE, oh my god how did I forget all the wonderous thoughts surrounding the divine beasts and the sheikah tech, oh god and how they write the magic system? Guys I swear it's so good.

Characterisation is on point, everyone feels so full of life and that they are reacting exactly how you would expect them too, and they just seem so real, like they are right beside you as you're reading. The author does an IMMACULATE job of drawing you in and making you feel a part of the story, all the while being just beautifully written?

Don't get me started on the attention to rito culture. I have never seen someone pour so much love into something before, genuinely on of the greatest things I've seen. I've always had a fascination over how the races of hyrule view each other, similarities and differences, how their cultures and histories intertwine, and conflicts that may arise. But oh. my. god. My jaw was on the floor every time, it's so rich and beautiful but not without the horrors (and oh god, they are Horrors tm) and again it's just so real!!!

Be warned, however, that there is gore and viscera and terror and hurt and war crimes and death (duh), but for each terrible thing to happen it is repaid tenfold in love and kindness somewhere down the line. (Unless you are into hurt no comfort, then sorry buddy!) It is a beautiful narrative and the exploration of trauma and self is mind boggling and just go read it!!! 😭 😭 😭 I just love this fic so much, it has instantly sky-rocketed to one of my top 3 favourite fics I've ever read, and I'm so grateful to have found it and now be along for the ride that if I could bring that to one more person then by god I will fucking do it

[xjaylyn]

PART 5 - Bad Boys: Second Chances

Pairing: Armando x Black! OC (Rya)

Warnings: blood, graphic, guns, death, mature, language (use of the n word), and some other stuff I probably forgot about sorry

Summary: It's been two years since Captain Conrad was framed. Another mission brings the team back together and new relationships are formed. It's said everyone deserves second chances and room to grow. So maybe this is that second chance

A/N: Further down in the story, there are some graphic descriptions that will be warned with red text before you read. In the scene, there could be some triggering words and situations that may be sensitive to a reader, so read at your own risk, please. I don't want anyone to get triggered. This scene will be written in italics. It's not necessary to read for you to understand the story, so you can skip it if you want, but it does provide a deeper look into Rya's past that was mentioned in the previous part. Part 6 will be out tonightt!

(Armando photo creds to @yeahnohoneybye they be having all the good photos bless them😩🙌🏽)

...AMMO HEADQUARTERS...

"Alright, I organized all the files in the drive so we can understand everything when we look over it," Dorn huffs, sitting back in his chair.

After infiltrating the lab, the team headed back to the station to plan their next move. Sitting on the couch in the middle of the room, Rya picked at the little glass shards stuck in her still-cuffed hands. Feeling someone sit next to her, she looks up to see Kelly holding a first aid kit.

"I brought you the first aid kit... there's some tweezers and wound spray... thought you might need it," she says, setting the kit on the coffee table in front of them. Mumbling a small thanks, Rya picks up the kit for the tweezers. Noticing Kelly still there, she looks back up and raises a brow at the girl still staring at her.

"So... an assassin? Umm, that's pretty cool, almost lik—" Kelly starts to ramble before she realizes the deadpan look on Rya's face. Shutting her mouth, she stands up.

"Yeah, sorry, I'll just... leave you be," she nods, walking off back to the others.

Blinking down to her hands, Rya picks up the tweezers, gently taking out the small shards stuck in her skin.

"Ok, so for the really fancy restaurant you have to be on this list to get in, but I was able to work my magic and get Rya on there with no problem. So, we're on for tomorrow. It should be a smooth mission," Kelly says, smiling up at the team.

"Thanks, Kelly... well, I'm calling it a night. It's getting pretty late, make sure you all get some sleep. We got a busy day tomorrow," Rita says, waving at everyone before walking out the door.

"Yeah, it is getting late. We'll see you all in the morning," Kelly says, packing her things, Dorn right behind her doing the same.

"Oh, before I forget, Rya, if you ever need a therapist, I can give you my counselor's number. She's amazing; I really recommend it," Dorn says with a small smile towards Rya. She squints her eyes at him.

"Dorn... just... goodnight... let's leave the therapy talk for another time," Marcus says, waving him off.

"I'm just saying, therapy has helped me with a lot," Dorn says, with his hands up before leaving with Kelly patting his shoulder.

Mike gets up from his desk and walks over to Rya. "Alright kid, I can take these cuffs off since they ain't stopping nothing anyway," he says, grabbing her wrist to unlock the cuffs.

Rubbing her wrist, she can see a purple indent had formed from the cuffs cutting off her circulation. "Thanks," she mumbles.

"You can sleep here tonight. We have a pillow and blanket in that closet over there," Marcus says, picking up his car keys and pointing to a back corner.

"Yeah, we still have to tell our wives about a possible guest staying with us, so for tonight, you just have to stay here. Everything will be locked up, but you have the common room to use. We'll see where you'll be staying at tomorrow. You'll be good on your own?" Mike asks, looking down at the girl.

"Yeah, I'll be fine. I want to look over some stuff anyway," she says, getting up and walking towards the computers.

Saying their goodnights, Rya watched as the pair walked out the door, locking it behind them before waving one final time. Rya pulls up a chair and looks through the different files on the computer.

After an hour of clicking through a couple of photos and documents, she lands on an old photo of her family. She'd never seen the picture before... completely different from the image of them she has buried in the back of her mind, all smiling, naive to the tragedy awaiting them in the future... one she doesn't want to remember. Staring at it for a few minutes, she suddenly feels a pair of eyes on her.

Already knowing who it is, she leans back in the chair and turns her head. "We have a problem?" she asks sternly, raising her brow towards Armando standing by the double doors.

"I don't trust you," he says simply.

"That's fine... I don't quite trust you either," Rya says, crossing her arms, now turning the chair completely towards him.

Walking down the steps, "I recognize you... I couldn't figure it out before, but now I do," he states, stopping to lean on the middle table, looking down at the girl in front of him. "You almost killed my mother a few years ago."

Staring at him for a little bit, she tilts her head. "Your mother is Isabel Aretas, right?" she says more as a statement than a question, already knowing the answer.

"Well... seems like someone got to her before me, so," she shrugs, turning her chair back to the computer screen. Noticing he was still quiet, she looked back to see him glaring at her, clenching his jaw. "No offense."

Armando shakes his head before sitting in the chair next to the table. "I don't believe you completely went rogue... if what you say is true about him controlling you, then you still have some loyalty left in you," he says, crossing his arms.

"You're right... but couldn't the same be said for you? Some loyalty should be left to the cartel, you know... since they raised you," she says, raising a brow.

"The only person that raised me is my mother... I don't owe loyalty to anyone anymore."

"Your mother kept and trained you to do her dirty work, there's a difference," she deadpans the man in front of her. Ready for the conversation to end, she couldn't care less about his opinion because it wasn't his help that she needed; he was just there.

Noticing his expression change for a split second, she can tell the statement caught him off guard, but he quickly recovered. Armando gets up from the chair and walks towards the door. "You got one time to fuck up," he says, looking back at her. "I won't hesitate to utilize what my mother trained me to do."

Hearing the door shut, Rya stares at the spot Armando once filled. Feeling her eyes get heavy, she sighs and makes her way towards the closet in the back corner to grab a blanket and pillow.

Walking back to the couch, she passes the computer screen that still displayed the old family photo. Stopping for a second, she closes out the tab and makes her way to the couch. Laying down, she stared at the ceiling until her eyes closed.

---------------------------------------------------------

*WARNING: GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS, NOT FOR WEAK STOMACHS, TRIGGERING SCENES AND WORDS COULD BE MENTIONED*

"Please... please... no more... please."

Strained pleas sounded from the man on the blood-stained floor. Another sound of ripped flesh and cracked bones could be heard, causing the man to cringe, close his eyes, and weep.

"Open your eyes," the uniformed man demanded before kneeling down next to the man, gripping a chunk of his hair, forcing his head up to watch the scene in front of him. His dead wife's body, covered entirely in blood, had open wounds all over her body as the suited man above her continued to mutilate her.

The man stands up, towering over her lifeless form, fixing his suit. Bloodied hands push his hair back from his face.

"What did I tell you would happen, huh?" the man huffs, staring down at the man.

"You thought you could betray me? And get away with it?" The man slowly walks to the man's beaten form.

"Kill me... please... don't do this to them... I betrayed you. I betrayed you... I BETRAYED YOU KILL ME DAMMIT," he begs, glaring back at the man.

"Oh... I was planning on that whether you asked me to or not," the man chuckled.

The grunts of the man flowed through the young girl's ears watching from the side. Both stared at the scene in front of them. One stood with dried-up tears and swollen red eyes, hiccups coming from her body every few seconds. Numbness flowed through her body. Slowly shifting her eyes from the scene in front of her, she looks at her younger sister sobbing in the uniformed man's arms. His gloved hand roughly covered her mouth to silence her, but it remained ineffective as you could still hear her strained screams.

She could feel her tears stream down her face, scared for what's to come. She could feel her body shaking, forcing the man holding her to tighten his grip to keep her still, causing a sob to form out of her body.

"Daddy, I'm scared," she cried for the bloodied man on the floor. She looks as her father's eyes meet hers. Her hero... the strongest man she knows... weak and scared on the floor. His lifeless eyes stared at her. All hope for her gone. She feels her body get tugged out of the room, her sister's screams flood her mind.

"Do as I say... and you and your sister will be free," the voice sounds through her mind.

She feels the heat of his rough hands caress her face, burning her cheek.

"Do as I say... and you and your sister will be free!"

*END WARNING*

Jumping up out of her sleep, Rya gasps while holding her chest to catch her breath. She can feel how damp her shirt is and her hair sticking to her forehead. Sweat covered her body. Feeling like her body is on fire, she hurries to push the covers off her completely, sitting up on the small couch.

Looking around, she realizes she is still at the station. Feeling her body relax, sitting there for a second, her hands grip the ends of the couch. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.

'Jesus Christ.'

She opens her eyes after a while. Furrowing her brows, she brings her hands up to her cheek. Looking down at her fingers, she notices a wet substance on them: tears.

Shaking her head, she gets up and makes her way to the water machine to pour herself a cup of water.

It’s been a long time since she has had that nightmare. It used to occur every night that first month, but then it suddenly stopped. The last image of her parents was something she buried deep in the back of her mind. That photo must have brought it to the surface. Looking up at the clock to see what time it is, the time reads 3:40 in the morning.

Looking back at the couch, she decides to make her way over to the computers to read over the files again. Not wanting to risk having that nightmare again. She couldn’t go back to that stage in her life... she refused.

---------------------------------------------------------

Hearing the doors open, Rya's tired eyes looks up from the computer screen, watching Marcus make his way into the room.

"Good morning. You look like shit... didn’t we tell you to get some sleep?" he said, placing his plate on his desk, taking off his jacket, and looking over at the girl hunched over in the chair.

Rolling her eyes, she leans back in the chair, dropping her legs to the floor to stretch a little bit. "I got caught up," she yawned.

"Uh-huh... caught up in an apocalypse. How are you supposed to work your lady magic at the restaurant when you look like a walker from The Walking Dead?"

"Hey, leave her alone, Marcus. She does not look that bad," Kelly says, walking in. "Besides, that couch is not the most comfortable, so I can’t blame her for not getting any sleep." She looks over at Rya, mouthing, "Ignore him."

Shaking her head, Rya looks back at the screen in front of her, ignoring the comment from Marcus.

"DAMN, did you get in a fight last night while we were gone?" Mike says, walking into the room with Armando next to him, dropping his stuff in his seat. She can hear Marcus laughing behind her.

The sound of whistling can be heard as Dorn walks into the room. Saying good morning to everyone, he stops in his tracks when he sees Rya. "Heyyy Rya... rough night?"

Dropping her hand on the desk, she looks up from the screen with a huff. "Y’all got one more time to comment on my appearance," she says, fed up.

"Woah, don’t bite, walker. I don’t want the smoke," Marcus jokes, smiling with his hands up. He and Mike snicker at each other. "That was good."

"Alright, enough. Let’s get serious. We have a lot to do." Rita sighs, standing in front of everyone, causing them to change their focus to their boss.

"Today, Rya is going to get information from Sergio’s two best dealers. Dorn, I need you to make sure all of your drones are up and running. Kelly, make sure Rya’s necklace has audio and footage. Mike and Marcus, I need you two to make sure all areas are secure and that we have a safe exit for Rya in case she needs to escape. Armando, we need you for backup in case anything goes wrong, so be ready. Does everyone remember the plan?" She asks, looking at the team, all nodding their heads.

"Good... Rya... make sure to freshen up. We need you to look the part for this to work." She smirks, watching as the woman rolls her eyes before making her way to the locker rooms.

"Dammit, I left the dress for Rya to wear at my place, and I still have to fix her necklace," Kelly huffs, throwing her bag down.

"It’s okay, Kells. Armando can take Rya to get it when she’s out of the shower," Mike says, leaning back in his chair.

"I never said that," Armando huffs from the couch.

"Didn’t have to. Look, you two got to get along or at least tolerate each other so we can all work together," Mike says, looking over at his son.

The two stare at each other for a bit until Armando lets up and nods his head. "She has one chance."

---------------------------------------------------------

'Well, this is great.'

Sitting in the front seat, Rya glanced over at Armando gripping the steering wheel, focused on the road. It’s only been 10 minutes of them together, and the ride was already intense. Taking a breath, Rya looked back out of the window, watching the buildings go by.

"I never tried to kill your mother," she starts. She can feel his eyes look at her for a second.

"You shot at her and missed, killing the person behind her," he said, staring back at her.

She scoffed at that before shaking her head. "That’s because I was aiming for the person behind her... trust me, if I wanted to kill her, I wouldn’t have missed... I never miss," she says, looking at Armando.

The two stare at each other for a second without saying anything. Realizing how long they were holding their stares, Rya lifts a brow at the man. "The road still exists, you know? I would watch it if you don’t want to get us killed." Breaking the eye contact, she looks back out the window.

"If I wanted to kill you, it would’ve been done by now and not in a car accident," he says focusing back on the road in front of him.

"Yeah, but I would’ve had to be on your mommy’s hit list for that to happen, huh?" She rolls her eyes.

Pulling over the car, Armando parks to take off his seatbelt and look at the girl in the passenger seat.

"I told you you had one chance. Bring up my mother again, and I will end all this shit."

Raising both brows, Rya looks over to Armando. "Nigga, I will have yo ass sent back to the fucking cartel in a body bag. You ain’t ending shit," she crosses her arms, looking at the man in front of her like he was crazy.

Huffing before closing his eyes, he sits back in the seat before calmly speaking, "Rya... go inside and grab the dress."

Looking past his form, she notices that they were in front of Kelly’s house. Squinting her eyes back to Armando, she unbuckles her seatbelt to get out.

"I’m going because I have to, not because you told me to."

"Ry-"

Before he could finish whatever he was going to say, she stepped out of the car and purposely slammed the car door. After a few minutes, Armando looks back up to see her walking back to the car bag in hand.

"Got the dress. Let's go," she said, not making eye contact with him.

Armando nodded and started the car, pulling away from the curb. The rest of the drive back to the station was quiet. When they arrived, Rya got out of the car without a word and headed straight into the station with Armando following behind.

"Well damn, what happened between you two?" Marcus asked, feeling the tension between the two as they walked in. Both of them ignored him and went their own ways.

"I ain't want to know anyway... damn," Marcus said, sitting back down. Looking over at his partner, he pointed back at where the two had been standing.

"Those two need some therapy, and I mean real-ass trauma-dumping therapy."

"Marcus, shut up," Mike said, shaking his head

Tag list: (lmk if you want to be added)

@blackgirlmagicforever @believeinthefireflies95 @wizewhispers @omg-mymelaninisbeautiful @sarcasticbitchsblog @maybepersuasivetom @d4rno @honggihwa @literallegendicon @ninacutebee16 @hannie-squirrel00 @themainacc @stressedmess-21

[starry-hughes]

hey mat(t)hew

mat barzal x reader, matthew tkachuk x reader

warnings: cheating, angst, mentions of sex, more angst, barzy ends up heartbroken but so does tkachuk, inspired by the song hey ben (games we play & hoodie allen)

summary: matthew finds out you have another boyfriend who happens to be closer to him than he would have ever guessed.

navigation

I got some things that I've been meaning to get off my chest. Been holding on to this so long, I've never been so stressed. 

Mathew Barzal was never expecting a text from a random number addressing him as Mathew. He didn’t even know who this was. Why was this person addressing him as if they knew one another, as if they had something in common?

“Hey Mathew… hate to be the bearer of bad news..”

That’s how the text started. 

And this might just weird you out, But I flagged you down to say, I know we haven't met, But we've got tons of friends in common, And lying isn't me, so I'll just be completely honest. 

You had wanted to get out of Fort Lauderdale since you were a teenager. As soon as the opportunity presented itself, acceptance to NYU and funding from your parents, you were in New York. The plan wasn’t to find a job right out of graduation and work for a company based in Fort Lauderdale. Luckily, you didn’t have to return there often, just for the occasional, one-time-a-month trip, your job letting you work remotely for the most part. 

Your life was perfect. A college degree, a job, and a hot boyfriend, Mathew Barzal. Your life was enjoyable, being a hockey girlfriend and successful. It wasn’t that Mat was a bad boyfriend. He was great. He would buy expensive gifts, tell you that he loves you, everything you could ask for. 

Both traveling for work, it wasn’t out of the ordinary to go down to Florida for work while Mat was traveling as well, he’d be on the West Coast while you were down in Florida, sitting through boring meetings. He’d text you good morning and good night, call you if he could, and tell you he loved you. 

You weren’t sure what had gotten into you. Maybe it was the fact that a minor argument had happened while you were packing to leave on your work trip of the month and Mathew was staying in New York for the week. You were staying at a rental house, paid for by your company, it was a nice place in a nice area: Sunrise, Florida. 

Hey Ben, I'm sorry, but I might have slept with your girlfriend I was under the impression she was my girlfriend. Don't worry, it won't happen again. But, hey Ben, I can't make any promises. 

Matthew Tkachuk had been on the Florida Panthers for a short time when he stumbled into you. You were on a jog, needing to clear your head about your rocky relationship back home. Matthew was rounding his car, walking to the trunk when you jogged by and startled him. You ripped out your headphones, huffing an apology. “It’s okay,” Matthew flashed a smile at you, “I’ve never seen you around here.” 

With your hands on your hips, you suddenly feel something, lust. “Just here on a work trip, can I help you with groceries? Since I startled you.” He had completely forgotten about the groceries in his trunk, the Publix bags staring at him. 

You ended up sleeping with Matthew Tkachuk that night. 

You felt guilty. Horrible. But the sex was too good. It would be a secret, one you wanted to take to the grave. A one-time thing. You’d delete his number, forget his name and the way his beard scratched your thighs. 

Hey Ben, I'm sorry, but I might have slept with your girlfriend. I guess she went and fucked around with both our heads, I think I might have ruined your day. Hey Ben, I'm sorry that you found out from me. 

Mathew didn’t notice anything was off. You had decided not to tell him. You got home and everything was fine. He apologized, gave you a pretty necklace and told you he loved you. Everything was fine. 

Except when your phone would buzz in the middle of the night. You had hidden WhatsApp in one of your app folders, Mathew believed it was for work. Matthew, from Florida, would send texts, saying he was thinking about you, thinking about the night you shared. 

You knew it was wrong, but when your boyfriend fell asleep next to you, you were texting Matthew. Scandalous pictures of your clevage exchanged when Mathew was on a roadie, texts regarding your next visit to Florida, and he was totally convinced you lived in a studio apartment in New York City. 

You let it continue. Every trip for work, you would spend your nights, telling Mathew you were going to bed, and then ending up in Matthew’s bed. You even had the excuse in your head, their names were the same, it wasn’t like you were moaning someone else’s name during the night. You could use autocorrect as an excuse, telling your boyfriend that your phone corrected his name from Mathew to Matthew. 

It wasn't that Mathew was a bad boyfriend. He gave you love through gifts and kind words. But with Matthew it was different, everything was different. He wasn't telling you that he loved you but he cared. Mathew was soft and Matthew was rough, polar opposites. And having one was not good enough for you apparently.

Your fault in everything was never paying enough attention to your boyfriend’s career. He didn’t mind it. Mathew was fine if you missed his game and didn’t even care to watch from home. You didn’t bother asking Matthew what he did for work, but god there was just something familiar about his face. You shrugged off all the feelings though. But, you let Matthew call you his girlfriend, it was easier to say than situtionship. You told him you didn’t have a social media presence and he fully believed you. 

And I know we've never met But we have so much in common. If you don't believe me, check to see my skeleton in her closet. 

Matthew had found out through someone else. His teammate, Sam Reinhart, next to him on the plane to Dallas, scrolling through Instagram. Matthew saw your face, saw you smiling in the picture, Mathew Barzal kissing your cheek, a piece of jewlery on your finger. And his stomach dropped. 

How do you tell someone you’re the side piece? Matthew fell down the rabbit hole of Mat Barzal’s social media, finding your private Instagram, the one you claimed you didn’t have. Pictures and pictures on Barzal’s Instagram, featuring you, featuring you and him in the summers, Italian vacations, wearing a WAG jacket during the playoffs. 

Matthew’s jaw clenched, he was better than Barzal, hell his team made it further in the 2022-2023 playoffs. He was obviously better at something, why else would you be calling him every time you were in Florida. He knew it was wrong at the end of the day, he didn’t stand for cheaters, and he wouldn’t be a dick and keep his knowledge to himself. 

A couple of texts later, Matthew was granted Mathew’s number. “Hey Mathew… Hate to be the bearer of bad news… but, I think you should know this. I kinda slept with your girlfriend.” 

And I know you'll find the dirt behind The dates and times, the alibis The text she sent November 9th. I dare you, ask to read it. 

Mathew Barzal didn’t want to believe it at first. He had just proposed, everything was perfect in his opinion. He wanted to believe it was a prank. He didn’t want to think his girlfriend, who was sleeping besides him in his shirt was cheating on him. 

Matthew Tkachuk was angry, he was upset. He knew if he was in Mat’s spot, he wouldn’t want to believe it either. But suddenly everything became so clear. How he ignored the shoes in the background of your picture, how he once saw you answering a text about spending the summer in Coquitlam. How you would suddenly text him more the nights that the New York Islanders play. 

November 9, 2022 

“I’ll be in Florida tomorrow.” You had texted him. 

November 9, 2023

“You okay?” You texted when you realized he hadn’t texted you back in a while, leaving your last flirty text on read. 

The screenshots of the texts made Mathew sick to his stomach. In less than a month, he’d be in Florida, sharing the ice with Matthew. He didn’t know if he could make it through a game with this knowledge. The two boys had agreed on telling you they knew. 

Hey Ben, I'm sorry, but I might have slept with your girlfriend. I guess she went and fucked around with both our heads. 

Sweet revenge for them both came December 2. You had panicked when Mathew told you he’d be in Florida at the same time you’d be on your work trip. You couldn’t just go and sleep with Matthew at the same time you fiance was in the city. The large diamond ring on your finger suddenly feeling very heavy. 

“How about we stay at the house your company rents you?” Mathew pressed a kiss to your lips. Even though he was about to change things, he still kissed you. “In Sunrise?” you squeaked. “Yeah, it’s not that much further from our arena.” 

You felt sick the whole time, making an excuse to Mathew. He was just in town for the night, just for the Panthers game. Then he’d be gone. “I’m going to shower,” you kissed his cheek. He nodded and as soon as you disappeared from sight, he texted the man down the street. 

“Mat? Baby? Have you seen my hairbrush?” your hair was wet still, you were so focused on drying the tips of your hair that you didn’t even realize Mat had removed his duffle bag from the bedroom. And the engagement ring you left on the dresser had been removed. 

You could have laughed at everything. At the end of the day, it was your doing. “Hey baby, did you know Matthew lives down the road? He plays with the Panthers, knows Reinhart.” 

It was ironic. Your perfect life crumbling in front of you. It was your fault. Why did it hurt? The room was painfully silent as your mouth went dry and the food you’d eaten hours before seemed to be ready to exit out of your mouth. “I, I-” you stuttered, tears filling your eyes as Matthew nodded, jaw clenched. 

“Well,” Matthew’s voice boomed, “I should go, considering you guys probably have a lot more to discuss.” Matthew brushed by you and let himself out. There would be no hard feelings between the two boys. 

“Mat baby I didn’t-” 

“I’ll be back on Long Island Sunday night. I’ll pack your things.” 

“Mathew.” 

He shook his head, eyes full of tears of betrayal and hurt. “No, you don’t get to fix this. I saw the texts, I know everything.” 

“Mathew please,” you dry heaved. “Was it worth it?” Mat’s words laced with venom, “I hope it was worth it.” 

[stealth-liberal]

So, it's that time again, the anniversary of 9/11. Two years ago, on the 20th anniversary, I wrote an essay about the Twin Tower jumpers and how we as a society have refused to look their fear and pain in the face and hold it.

Now, it's been 22 years since that day and my thoughts go elsewhere. Now I am thinking about legacy and remembrance. Honoring the dead. How do we fully honor the 3,000 people who were killed that day? Because I have some serious issues with how that has played out over the last 22 years.

I was in my 20's when 9/11 happened, and I was in the Marine Corps, so, as you can imagine, it changed my life, and not a single one of those changes was positive. Right now though, it's not what I want to talk about.

We say never forget, always remember, but how are we doing that. By dooming ourselves to what was 20 years of unending war? That doesn't sound like a good memorial.

I never had an issue with the war in Afghanistan. We were attacked Pearl Harbor style, and that was always going to end the way it did. But the war in Iraq? It made me an angry liberal. I had never been conservative, and I joined the Marine Corps to pay for college, we had been at peace for So Many Years that I guess I didn't really think that could change. The war in Iraq was criminal, though. Dubya and his cronies whipped our pain and our grief into a storm and used it to help him LIE to Congress (both sections) so he could get his war. Afghanistan had no natural resources besides poppies for opium that would benefit the war profiteers. They were strategically placed, but that was it. Iraq? Iraq had oil and Haliburton, Chaney, Dubya, Condoleezza Rice, and the rest made So Much money. Billions were made, and billions were "misplaced." Congress was given false intell reports so they would vote for the Iraq War. The fact that no one went to jail for that scarred me. They lined their pockets, and my friends came home in body bags because they SOMEHOW didn't have the money for proper body armor. I will never forgive them for that.

So... It's not a very good way to remember the 3,000 who died on 9/11. Perhaps the worst memorial of all time. Dubya shackled us to pain and grief, and no one was allowed to recover. Least of all the families who lost people. They were paraded for the cameras to be used, and looking back on it, it was sickening. How could they do that to families and the survivors? Why?

I mean, intellectually, I know why. Emotionally, I will never understand it. The survivors and the families deserved to recover. We, as a nation who witnessed the horror, deserved to recover. But recovery meant no profit. Recovery meant no Iraq War. Recovery meant Halliburton might not make quite as much money. So we all stayed traumatized, unable to move forward.

And here it is, 22 years later. How should we honor the 9/11 dead and the survivors? Well, I have a few ideas.

1. 3,000 people died that day, but it could have been less. Why? Both the Twin Towers and the Pentagon had structural and safety issues that made something catastrophic even worse. The Twin Towers did not have enough emergency staircases for it's size. All skyscrapers were supposed to have 4 staircases in case they ever needed to be evacuated. Both Towers only had 2, and the why of that is rage inducing.

You see, 4 staircases meant less floor space, which meant less desk space, which meant less ability to charge businesses higher rents. So money changed hands when the towers were built, and the number went down to 2 emergency staircases. This was a decision that was heavily criticized at the time, and many in the trades predicted disaster.

When the 1993 bombing of the Twin Towers happened, the towers stayed standing, and the 2 missing staircases weren't a problem. Everyone thought all was good. To be fair, NO ONE ever thought a terrorist group would fly a jumbo passenger jet into each tower. No skyscraper was built with that eventuality in mind. They are now, though.

When the planes hit the towers, each tower lost access to elevators and 1 staircase each. Now, both towers had to be fully evacuated with just that one staircase. It wasn't enough, and survivors have all spoken about how everyone was jammed into the stairwells going down those stairs one at a time at a snail's pace. It's a miracle as many people actually survived as they did.

The South Tower was hit more on the side, so some people above the impact zone were able to get out. The North Tower was not so lucky. It was hit head on, everyone above the impact zone was doomed, and they knew it. It's why so many of them chose to jump once faced with what was no real choice to begin with, burn, or jump to their deaths.

Had there been enough staircases, had there been 4 instead of 2, many more people would have survived. So I think a suitable way to never forget the people who died in The Twin Towers is to enact legislation so that never again can a skyscraper be built without proper emergency egress/staircases in case of an evacuation. Any skyscrapers without enough staircases are brought up to code so that if the worst happens, as many people can be saved as possible. That seems a fitting memorial.

The Pentagon was built like a fish trap, the idea was if an enemy somehow got in, they would never get out. No one ever factored in the notion of a jet being flown into the building, most of the inner ring collapsing and massive explosion damage and fire racing through everywhere. There are many stories of people pounding on the glass and not being able to get out.

Thankfully for the people at the Pentagon, they were not in a skyscraper, and first responders were able to find ways to get to them. But they couldn't and didn't get to everyone. So I think a fitting memorial to the Pentagon dead that day would be to make sure no building is so secure that you can't get out, can't truly evacuate, if the catastrophic happens. When a building is on fire, everyone deserves the best possible chance to get out and get home alive.

2. The first responders of 9/11 were the heroes of that day. I think we can all agree that the very definition of heroic is running back into a collapsing and/or burning building determined to save just one more life. So many first responders died that day doing the best they could to save lives. The ones who survived were harrowed to their bones.

The people who worked the wreckage of both sites, who collected what was left of human remains. Who bit by bit picked up the wreckage and tried to heal two cities with the labor of their hands. These people were also heroes, and anyone who says differently is just wrong.

They were told it was safe, and they were told we would take care of them. However, it wasn't safe. Both of these groups of people have had massive health complications ever since from the toxins they were immersed in for days, weeks, months, and even years. The dust alone caused so much lung damage.

Then, to add insult to injury, a Republican congress tried to take away their health benefits, to leave them twisting in the wind. These ghouls left the ACTUAL heroes of that terrible time in chronic illness, terrible pain, and in many cases tried to let them die. Why? Because they were too cheap to spend a dime on these people. John Stewart basically had to retire from The Daily Show to shame Congress into taking care of these people.

On the 17th anniversary he gave a blistering speech to them and I paraphrase here: "17 years ago, they acted heroically and did their jobs. They did their jobs! NOW DO YOURS!"

You want to know the very best way to remember the first responders who died in 9/11? Take care of their brothers and sisters who survived, their brothers and sisters who spent years working The Piles. None of these people should EVER pay so much as a dime for their health care ever again. For the rest of their lives. Period.

This is how we should memorialize them, this is how we never forget. Not chaining us to a never ending cycle of pain, despair, and anger. Not lying to us to get a second war that no one needed. Not war profiteering and then calling it patriotism. Not terrorizing our Muslim citizens. Not taking away our rights, not trading our civil rights for the illusion of safety.

This is how we make peace with the horror of what happened. This is how we move forward and let the memory of the dead be a blessing.

[ticklishfiend]

Stained Leather (Good Omens)

(Switch!Aziraphale/Switch!Crowley)

⚠️SPOILERS FOR GOOD OMENS S2⚠️

Summary : He’s lost his angel. Now all Crowley has are the memories they shared. Memories he wishes he could forget as easily as he remembers them.

A/N : love these gay old-ass genderless beings with my whole heart and soul. which is why i’m devastated and needed to vent with angst and tickles :)

Warnings : angst, tickling

Word Count : 2221 (omg kinda angel numbers)

hope y’all enjoy! :)

—

He’d been thinking a lot lately. For someone’s sake, he sure knows he’s got the time for it now. Driving endlessly for days, weeks, maybe months. Who really knows, with how time has blended seamlessly together like one long stretched road, terrifyingly eternal in its seeming hatred for dead ends. He’s had far too much time to ponder on the last, oh, 6000 years or so. But who’s counting? Certainly not Crowley.

He gave his head a stern shake, trying so hard to knock loose all those dreadful little thoughts that keep his knuckles white against the steering wheel. But thoughts always fell right back into place, and yet again, he felt trapped. Did the Bentley shrink since he drove it last? It seems far more cramped than usual. Like he doesn’t fit comfortably anymore, like his body can’t seem to find that Crowley shaped indent in the leather cushion that he worked so hard to make just for him. For a moment, he wonders if it took a new shape, one the car favored over his own.

Angel-shaped.

His eyes shut tight, silent fireworks in the darkness of his pinched eyelids. He’s thinking like a fool now. An idiotic, foolish sap.

That one thought has his mind drifting though, and he feels his heart race with the memories. It’s not the usual heart rate he has when thinking of his…the angel. No, it’s uncomfortable and uneasy. Unbearable. Like a blood-boiling type of heart rate. He’s never felt this way before when remembering.

One particular memory hits him like an oncoming truck. Makes him wish a real truck would hit him even harder.

…

“Please Angel, you’re gonna ruin the leather!”

“Oh, do stop being foolish. I know you are well aware that I’m not much of a mess-making type. Plus, I did bring napkins-“

“Mmyes, napkins, the pinnacle of all cleaning products against 100 year old leather” Crowley says too sarcastically for Aziraphale’s taste. “D’you remember 1991, that little excursion of ours in New York. You tried a hotdog that resulted in the world’s first mustard stain down an angel’s white button up,” Crowley popped the ‘P’ as he poked Aziraphale’s chest, right where the stain had sat years ago. Aziraphale swatted the hand away, annoyance painted all over his face. “It took a miracle to get that stain out, quite literally might I add.”

Aziraphale fixed his posture quickly, chin up in defiance. “Now that’s not fair, and you know it, Crowley. I distinctly remember a certain someone pinching my knee under the table just so I would spill something all over my garments.” Aziraphale huffed, wiping his mouth with one of the napkins he brought specifically because he knew Crowley would make a fuss. He had gotten an ice cream cone on their most recent outing, buying from a local vendor who made it from scratch. He tipped quite generously too, as homemade is always his favorite.

“Yeah well, s’not my fault your vessel’s too ticklish to keep food in your mouth,” Crowley grinned, leaning just a tad closer to Aziraphale so he could get a good look at that flustered expression painted on his angel’s face.

“Oh hush, it wasn’t even in my mouth when it fell. You know that, too,” He took a generous lick of the treat, unable to hold back a smile and slight wiggle at the strawberry flavor coating his tongue. “And don’t you forget, I’m not the only one here with a sensitive vessel. I seem to remember a particular incident in, oh, 2004 was it? Ah yes, you drew quite the attention of just about everyone in the pub with your scream-“

“Oh shuttuuuup, I did not scream,” Crowley insisted, just as he did back in ‘04, even with all those curious eyes on him. He specifically remembers two blue ones paired with a particularly un-angelic smile bringing a sickening warmth to his face. He merely rolled his eyes at the memory.

“A shrieking cackle then, maybe?” Aziraphale couldn’t hold back his cheeky smile as Crowley glared at him. “Would a shrill squeal better suffice? Nooo, I know, it was more like the wail of a —ah! Ah, Crohowley, wait-!” Aziraphale was cut off mid sentence by devilish fingers squeezing just above his knee cap, an unfortunate repeat of ‘91 waiting to happen. “The leather, Crohowley, the leatheheher!”.

“Oh no, do continue! I’d just love to hear what other synonyms you’ve been cooking up the past 10 years!” Crowley couldn’t help the grin as he saw Aziraphale struggle to keep his ice cream from dripping while pulling at the tickly hand on his leg. Those angelic giggles always have been his downfall, though he never did complain. “Haven’t got all day, have we, Angel?”

Aziraphale groaned through his giggles, nearly crushing the cone in his hand from his mirth. “You fiehehend!” He stomped his legs (gently, though for the soft angel it might as well been a violent kick) against the car floor, nearly pressing his face into the window next to him in giggly embarrassment. “Stop ahahat once!” His voice squeaked on the last word, and Crowley couldn’t hold back the fond coo if he wanted to.

“Aww cmon, now, you don’t have to kick her! What did she ever do to you, huh?” His hand moved to strike the angel’s side, cackling like the demon he is as Aziraphale practically folded sideways, the angel’s hand on the opposite side having quite the struggle to pull the tickly one off him. He must’ve forgotten he could switch the ice cream to his other hand, the poor ticklish thing.

Aziraphale no longer got any words in, too caught up in giggling his head off to care. He’d folded so much to the side his head began falling onto Crowley’s shoulder, seizing the opportunity to hide his face in the material.

Crowley thanked everything above and below that Aziraphale’s eyes were hidden, now that a familiar fond smile and warm blush painted the demon’s usually cold face. He loved seeing his angel like this, and he could surely get used to it.

However, he didn’t want to embarrass his friend so much he discorporated (though the thought awfully enticed him. Not the discorporation necessarily, but definitely getting his angel to blush so hard he was hot to the touch).

Crowley finally let go of him, smoothing out the fabric of his suit and snickering when Aziraphale flinched. “Oh, I’m done, angel. You can relax.”

Aziraphale pouted as he caught his breath, shoving the cone towards Crowley which he took without thinking twice. Aziraphale smoothed out his coat on his own, like he just knew Crowley wasn’t doing it properly before. After composing himself in silence, he gave a glare towards his demon. “That was rather childish of you, don’t you think?”

Crowley grinned. “Mmyes, I suppose it was,” he took a lick of the ice cream before handing it back to a still blushing Aziraphale. The angel looked to the roof of the car as if sending a silent prayer. Crowley tilted his head. “But rather fun though, wouldn’t you say?”

Aziraphale gave a tight shake of his head. “I cannot agree in the slightest. Exploiting my vessel’s sensitivities like that is just…well it’s unprofessional, Crowley. You should know better.”

“What, know better than to give my angel a little laugh once in a while? I say no harm, no foul,” He shrugged, sagging back into his seat and throwing an arm over the back of Aziraphale’s own.

“No no, much harm, much foul. It’s humiliating!” Aziraphale pouted again, looking down at his ice cream with those awful puppy-dog eyes Crowley just can’t stand for long. “Vessels are such strange things.”

Crowley sighed, “That they are.” He gazed at Aziraphale’s face for a moment, before decidedly looking anywhere but his face. He’d embarrassed his angel. He really didn’t mean to (well, he did, but he was allowed to feel a little bad about it after). Those heavenly giggles just have such a hold on him sometimes. He growled when a thought popped into his head he absolutely despised, but knew would make his friend feel all the better. “Look, if it embarrasses you that bad…and really it shouldn’t, it’s just laughing after all, not like I dressed you in feathers and made you dance down the street like a plump chicken-“

“Get to the point,” Aziraphale said straight-edged, like he’d been waiting to hear this from the start of his pout-parade. Oh that slimy little bastard. He always got his way with Crowley, didn’t he?

And still, Crowley didn’t call him out on it. He just growled through a long, dramatic sigh, looking up towards the roof. “You…well, I could allow, if only for a moment-!” He pointed a finger towards Aziraphale’s face (which he was looking at again, why did he always feel the need to look), and he was doing that smug little grin he always did, cheeks round and eyes squinted in his direction. Oh, Someone save him. “…nrk, just, make it quick, would you angel?”

Aziraphale cheered back up a little too quickly at that. “Oh of course. If you please?” He offered the cone back to Crowley, who took it with great hesitance. He squeezed his eyes shut tight, never one who was able to handle the anticipation. His lips pressed together in preparation to conceal all those embarrassing sounds he dreaded escaping, he held his breath and waited.

And waited.

He was half tempted to say something, but he was far too clever for that. Aziraphale’s done this before to him, making him open his mouth to complain before striking so he had no chance of holding back those sounds his angel dared to call giggles.

Instead, he opted to open one eye, just to see what all the hold up was about. So much for being clever.

Aziraphale’s hands were poised over Crowley’s torso, fingers wiggling with very un-angelic intent. His face said it all, though, looking directly into Crowley’s eyes like he had been waiting for him to look. Such an unfair game he played, at least Crowley got it over and done with!

Crowley growled behind gritted teeth, smacking away at those mean, teasy hands with his own free one. Aziraphale tsked.

“Now, Crowley, you said you’d give me a moment’s tickle, but I haven’t even started yet! You can’t shove me away already,” His hands continued their tickly motions here and there while being fought off (quite lazily if he had any say about it), “It’s against the rules.” Crowley groaned, always unable to stay silent against teasing.

“We’re rule-breakers, it’s what we do—AH!! No wahait! Oh you fuhucker!” Crowley released bubbly cackles as soon as Aziraphale touched down, squeezing the bottom of his ribs like his fingers were a magnet to his most sensitive spots.

“Such lovely laughs you always produce when I tickle here. Though, I’ve wondered before why some spots are more ticklish than others. Like, for example, here-“ He moved his hands up to Crowley’s neck, fingers fluttering softly against the skin and making Crowley break out in breathy giggles. “-you make such sweet giggles-“

“Nohohot gigglin’!”

“-and yet when I tickle your ribs, you just-“ He struck back down against his bony ribs, the gentle fervor behind his finger tips sending Crowley’s head slamming against the headrest behind him, overcome with belly laughs and cackles he couldn’t contain if he wanted to (he did not, but don’t tell his angel that). “-my, well you just can't take it, can you?”

Curse Aziraphale and his evil teasing. Why did he have to be so sweet and gentle about it? Always made Crowley want to explode on the spot just to expel all that nervous, flustered energy inside him.

“Stohohop! Really, ahahangel, I-!”

CRUNCH

The tickling stopped, and so did any movement or sounds amongst the two of them, for just a moment. They eyed the ice cream cone dripping between Crowley’s fingers, dollops falling onto the leather between his legs.

A small snicker from the back of Aziraphale’s throat, before the angel fell into helpless cackles. The irony of it all just…tickled him so.

And though so very annoyed at that sticky stain he was now having to angle himself away from, avoiding getting any on his black jeans…Crowley began to laugh too. What could he say, angelic laughter was far too contagious for him to help himself.

…

Crowley burnt from the inside out. The flames soured everything inside him, churning his insides and scolding his flesh to a burnt replica.

His eyes unconsciously darted to the seat he sat upon, wondering if under all the cleaning products and the eventual miracle, there was still a sweet pink stain underneath it all.

He turned back towards the road. His hold so tight on the wheel his arms started to shake, pushing hard against the wheel until it began shaking too.

Strangling the wheel of his poor car, he shook and fought and bellowed out a loud, growling yell from deep in his belly, slamming his fist against the wheel repeatedly. Of course, it was of no use. Memories replayed over, a broken record of moments he dreaded bringing to surface.

With an agonized cry, he tried again.

—

A/N : hope you enjoyed, i didn’t, these two have broken me!!!! bye i’m gonna go listen to Unknown/Nth by Hozier yet again and grieve

[melanatedkink]

Forget About It

Pairing: Y/N x Sero Hanta

Quirkless AU

Warnings: Angst, mentions of sex, trauma dumping if you squint, impulsive writing, love confession, implied happy ending

What had started out as an undisputed, best one night stand of your life, quickly devolved into a rollercoaster of unrequited turmoil. You breaking your own rule, falling in love with a man you met strictly to have sex with. A man who had been coming to the bar you worked for with his friends. A man who had won you over one night with a wink and a challenge. You remember when he first offered, you smugly blew him off.

"Every guy thinks he's unforgettable in bed. What makes you different?" you scoffed.

Hanta shrugged," True. But if you are able to forget me after tonight, it would definitely be because of the alcohol,"

A cheesy line. You were well aware, but it was a Friday night, and you were getting out of closing the bar so you took him up on his offer. He made sure you felt comfortable in his home, starting up a healthy conversation before getting intimate. He asked questions about what you were into. You never met a man that thorough. And anything you didn't like would be swept away in favor of your desires. He followed your lead, complimenting your drive harmoniously through the night.

The next few days, you chewed your lip whenever you saw his number at the top of your message list. It was so tempting to text him. But, you didn't need him saving face. He probably didn't even remember you. God, you couldn't convince yourself to not send that text. One that effectively sealed your fate, when he invited you over that night.

Those few times festered into a pastime. You began meeting with his even if he hadn't showed up to the bar. You would chat, go out with his friends, and ultimately spend more time in house just talking rather than ripping each other's clothes off. You couldn't deny the way he perked up at your suggestions to see him, nor could you hide the anticipation you felt everytime you set up a meeting.

"Y/N?" You glanced up to find Hants offering you a glass. It was a coktail you two had been sipping on as you lounged on his couch. You offered a smile, and took it. You hoped he didn't notice how awkward you were being.

He smirked, tilting his head as he rounded the couch and sat on the floor. He looked up at you like he was trying to figure something out without saying anything.

"I don't get you, sometimes," he began.

You furrowed your brows at is observation," What's not get?"

"Get this, okay," He turns so he can lay an arm on your knees as he speaks,"We meet up. You text me back days later proving me right by the way." He accents his statement with a wink before continuing," We hang out. You meet my friends and...you're still sitting here like it's our first night together. If you think I'm attracted to shyness, well, I got news for you,"

You fiddle with the cup. Of course you were well aware of the way you acted. It was almost obsessive how you kept tabs on everything you said in a single conversation, combing every word for a reason to be cast out. You chest tightened. Cast out. Forgotten. It was easy to keep up appearances at a bar. Being awkward in the midst of tipsy patrons was low risk. Getting to know someone was much harder to do. Because for you, the deeper the rabbit hole went, the more alone you'd end up feeling. Those starter conversations didn't hold up too well, and your personality...well forget that. Nobody was gonna take the time to understand that.

"I-I...what an observation," You faltered.

Hanta sighed, his flirty tone losing its dominance.

"You're really gonna make me say it first, huh?"

You stiffen," Say...what?"

"I get that where we met wasn't conventional but I do like you. I thought that taking you out might get you to be a little more comfortable with me but...it doesn't seem to be helping,"

You go to set your cup down, willing all the sobriety you could muster for this.

"But, if telling you that I like you and I want to be your lover helps then-"

"I have to go,"

Hanta stuttered as you rose from the couch. He scrambles to his feet, inserting himself between you and the front door.

"Woah woah, you're not going anywhere after drinking. At least let me take you home,"

"Y-you don't have to. I can call a ride-"

"Okay, what is it?" he softens his tone," What is it that I'm doing that's making you so...distant?"

Of all the times a little white lie would have sufficed, you couldn't lie to Hanta. He wasn't a stranger at this point. You cared about him. But the idea of him getting close...finding something about you that he couldn't put up with. You couldn't deal with that again. You couldn't untangle that emotion with Hanta.

"L-look I...I hate being alone. I've had to be alone for so long because I just don't really know how to connect with people. I'm too intense. I want to be close and learn things about them and show them I care. But one too many times, people just...they don't really want that. At least, not from me," You lock eyes with him," I don't just like you. I care. And if you think that's gross or weird just tell me,"

He shook his head in disbelief," Who the hell made you think like that? You think that...that getting close makes you lonely?"

You shrug,"I can't help it,"

"Okay but, one that doesn't make you the problem, and two that is exactly what I want from you," Hanta states," Do you really want to be alone, again?"

You consider his words. It was a novel idea, one you had never seen in practice. Logically, you couldn't risk it, but emotionally, you were exhausted. You couldn't go another day tormenting yourself with the idea that yet another person didn't want you as close as you wanted them. You shook your head, readying yourself for a plot twist to confirm your reality. Instead, you were met with a gentle kiss on the top of you head. Hanta gazed at you filled with conviction. He didn't know what you had been through, but he was sure going to find out. If not tonight, then on a date where you would officially be together.

[28dayslater]

after our tozer convo in the DMs i would really like you to give me a franklin expedition starting XI (formation of your choice). preferably with explanations for those of us (me) who don’t know ball

Here's my vision:

Crozier obviously gaffing like let's not take the piss here. He would probably play a Dyche style 4-4-fackin-2 lump it up to the big man none of this bullshit about half spaces but this is a 433. The midfield doesn't really work but let's ignore that

ST: Fitzjames. All the glory of being your team's star player, all the shame when you fuck up. He's flashy, he's the big man, he's got a crushing sense of shame that he's desperately compensating for. And his method of compensation? G/A per 90 stats and extremely brightly coloured boots

LW: Dundy and you know he's trying rainbow flicks and bicycle kicks and what have you, whether or not any of them are leading to a goal involvement is not the point. He is wearing a headband.

RW: You might think Hickey is a leg breaking defender but not to me. Fox in the box. Poacher. Dubious foul winner. He's done it again that Cornelius Hickey you dirty bastard you've done it again

CAM: Goodsir. Being a 10 is all about creativity... setting up your teammates... finding a way to break through defenses. You've got to be able to look at things differently. I feel like he would be very injury prone. Physician, heal thyself

CM: Jopson. I'm thinking of him as an 8... never ever stops running. The most boring job on the pitch but without him there's no team! King of the nice clean tackle and if he nips an ankle from time to time well that's their fault for putting it in his studs' way

CDM: Little. Episode 5 he was temping for Crozier and that's exactly what this is. Drops back into defense, adds numbers to the midfield, does his best to help with an attack here and there. Gets no thanks for any of it and always has a huge mistake in him a la Rice against the Netherlands other day

LB: Tartnell more of a traditional FB you forget he's there most of the time until he pops up and gets an assist. Alternatively Collins bc he's Welsh and sexy like my goat Ben Davies

CB: Irving. This is another mistake prone one bc he's so nervous. But it's not his fault... he's brave he tries his hardest. His positioning is shit he plays every fucker onside but he's TRYING. Flop era John Stones and you know he'd cry if he got caught eating a Magnum

CB: Tozer OBVIOUSLYYYYYYYYYYY. Big lad doing the dirty work defending everyone and getting fuck all credit it's too perfect. You just know his massive bonce is banging in headers from corners left right and centre. I see him as a very old school CB... progressing the ball? Line breaking passes? No, I don't think so. He's busy kicking the fuck out of some brittle boned winger in rolled down socks

RB: Armitage. Your modern fullback is always going forward and inverting and leaving the actual defence to the CBs. Big Toze has it covered you go overwhelm their midfield and- oh, no, it didn't work and every goal we concede is coming down the right side of the pitch

GK: Hodgson. Goalies are always weird. Much like vicario I do not respect him. Largely infuriating but a moment of brilliance once or twice a season so the fans start creaming over him again. Holding five against Scunthorpe United then saving a penalty in the 96th minute of a cup final by being so inherently off putting the other team's striker gets distracted and slips. Message relevant

[harmonictechnicality]

💚❤️ steddie The Holiday au preview scene incoming...💚❤️

“So you’re here to…” Eddie swallows the question. Has to try again with a raspy throat. “You’re here to get to know me?”

Steve is looking around the house, picking up little trinkets and placing them back down in different places. Like he is Nancy’s newly hired interior decorator all of a sudden.

“Essentially, yeah.” Steve examines a snowglobe (ugh, Eddie hates those little glass fuckers).

“And then what?”

“Date?”

Eddie’s heart pinballs around in his chest. Ricocheting on every corner and scoring high numbers. Like Eddie just won all the tickets in the whole goddamn arcade.

Almost forgetting that he leaves in a week.

“Is that what people usually do when they are majorly crushing on someone?” Steve asks, suddenly sounding insecure.

“Big shot sportscaster, Steve Harrington, is crushing on a lowly guitarist from Brooklyn?” Eddie is beaming now.

“Thought you were from Georgia.”

“You remembered.”

“You’re hard to forget.”

What a cheesy line. Not even a flirt veteran like Eddie Munson can resist such a cheesy, charming line though. He’s about ten-seconds away from having it down bad for this guy.

Steve sets down the snowglobe, looking diabolical. “So you cyberstalked me back, huh?”

“No.” What a fucking liar. “A little.”

“Well, I went full-blown binoculars outside your bedroom window with how much I researched you.” Steve admits, almost proudly. “And I never look up the people I’m hooking up with.”

Eddie snickers, walking into the living room. “Almost hooked up with.” 

“Right. That never happens either.”

“Almost hooking up?”

“Spending the night in someone’s arms.” Steve approaches Eddie now, reaching for his hair. Twists a curl around his finger - it’s still a little damp from Eddie's shower earlier.

“Oh.” Eddie suddenly feels a little guilty. Like he made Steve do something he wasn’t interested in doing. Like him made him vulnerable when that’s not his Thing.

“Sorry if that was-”

“Don’t.” Steve releases his hair, touching Eddie’s cheek sternly. “I haven’t slept that soundly in several months, so don’t apologize. In fact, I should be thanking you.”

But Eddie is dying to apologize - needs to say 'sorry' a million times over for bailing in seven days. After all of Steve’s raw emotions are on full display, he’s gonna have to catch a plane across the country. It’s stupidly unfair.

He puts his hand over Steve’s, the one that is resting on his cheek. Strokes his thumb over Steve’s knuckles, over the thin sterling band on his index finger. Wondering faintly what the significance behind it might be.

“I’m leaving in a week, Steve.” Eddie finally finds the courage to say it. 

Steve continues to hold his cheek, but his expression falls along with his shoulders. 

“I really want to get to know you better, but…” Eddie holds Steve’s hand now, removing it from his face. “How is this gonna work?”

Their hands drift apart, reality dividing their physical affection. Both of them seem to be contemplating what happens next, predicting an unwritten love story. Filling in the pages with propositions. Hopeless for an answer.

“Whatever.” Steve finally speaks up. Almost dismissive to their predicament.

“What…ever?” 

“Yeah - whatever.” Steve plops down on the couch, kicks his feet up on Nancy’s coffee table (Eddie’s not so sure if Nancy would approve of something like that).

“Care to expand on the context of your ‘whatever,’ Steve Harrington?” Eddie cautiously sits on the adjacent couch.

Steve places his arms behind his head, full-on lounging. “I say we try this anyways.”

“You do?”

“Sure.” He’s so casual about this. How is that even possible? “It’s sort of ideal, actually.”

“In what universe is this ideal?”

“If we spend the next week together and it goes poorly, then we don’t have to worry about an awkward breakup. You’ll fly back to Manhattan and I’ll stay here in LA - no running into each other or being forced to evenly split up our mutual friends post-breakup. No mess.”

That’s only somewhat true. Eddie’s heart will be a mess. His overly tender heart feels everything so deeply. He’ll spend months mopping up the heartache if this doesn’t work out.

“But if things go well, I think we can figure out how to make it work.” Steve says that so casually too. Like he’s suddenly the most capable and committed human being.

“You can’t know that.” Eddie’s tone comes out frustrated. Which he is. The whole thing is frustrating. Lovey-dovey feelings and motherfucking distance? That’s outrageously frustrating.

“No, but I’m trying something new here.”

“Why?”

“Lets just call it an early New Years Resolution. Keeping an open mind. Going with my gut.” 

Steve walks over to Eddie, offering him a hand to shake. Seal the deal, like a fucking business exchange or some professional bullshit. 

“What do you say, Eddie Munson? Wanna date me for a week - see where this holiday whirlwind takes us?”

Eddie chews the inside of his cheek, strongly considering the consequences of this plan. Jots down a scribbly mental list of all the emotions that may lie ahead of them: Heartbreak. Misery. Grief. Resentment. Malice.

And before he can say hell no, a fucking red permanent marker adds two more words to his list, in bold letters:

Potential Love.

There’s potential that this could be it - a potential love that will finally stick. A potential love that can withstand distance and life’s complexities.

Eddie firmly shakes Steve’s hand.

“I’m all in, Steve Harrington.”

[smurphyse]

The Thunderbird Inn | Spencer Reid

Smurph's Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 2 of Routine Maintenance

Warnings: mentions of death, romantic tension, arguments, BAU talk

Summary: Spencer spends his first night in his hotel room. Honey makes him an offer to get involved in the town events.

Spencer rubbed his temples on the edge of the bed for a while, contemplating his life choices. Eventually he poured himself a drink from the bottle he kept in his suitcase, straight into one of the plastic mouthwash cups, and laid on the bed staring at the ceiling. Instead of driving straight off toward Oregon, he’d stopped in this stupid town for coffee and a morning at the beach. If he’d just kept going, he wouldn't be in this mess. 

A month of sitting still was sure to kill him. Spencer hadn’t stayed in a place longer than three days since he left DC two years ago, and he hadn’t gone back either. See a town, maybe see a sight, then off into the night he drove… over and over again. Stupid, stupid. He should have just taken his coffee and left Thunderbird when he had the chance. 

Knowing that if the team couldn’t reach him they’d scour the country until they did, he leaned over to the nightstand and grabbed the phone. The cord tangled and nearly pulled the base from the tabletop, and a quick hand on it stopped the damned thing from flying across the room. He dialed a number he knew by heart and held the ancient phone to his ear as it rang.

It took one brrup for her to answer. “This is Prentiss.”

“Emily, hey,” he murmured, trying to steady the slurring of his voice. He’d had a few since sitting there. “It’s me.”

“Spence!” she said excitedly, making him wince and pull the phone away from his ear. “Is everything okay? This isn’t your phone number an-.”

“I’m fine,” he cut her off sharply. Spencer sighed and rubbed his face with his free hand. “I’m having some car trouble and there’s no service. You’ll be able to reach me here at the inn I’m staying at.”

“What is this; a California area code? We’re in LA, we can come get you.” Emily’s nerves took over far quicker than Spencer’s limited patience had capacity for, and he rolled his eyes as she rambled on. “I can wire you some cash.”

“I’m. Fine,” he gritted out. “Look, I just… I might be here a while, and I don’t need you guys putting me on a milk carton when you can’t get a hold of me.”

“Well, forgive us for loving you!” Rossi’s voice came, and Spencer groaned. 

“Yeah, man. We just wanna make sure you’re taken care of.” Luke this time, no doubt with that lopsided grin on his face.

“Am I on a conference call?” he asked irritably, nearly fuming. Spencer wasn’t even sure why he was so angry… but he was, all the time, and more so when he talked to the BAU.

“Well, when I said we were in LA I meant we’re on our way to LA,” Emily said sheepishly. Her voice turned hopeful as she continued. “I think we’re over the Dakotas right now. You wanna hear about it? We could always use your input.”

“No.” His voice was firm, final. As always, they didn’t seem to care.

“You sure, Spence?” JJ’s voice filtered through, and Henry and Michael’s faces popped into his mind. A part of him wanted to ask how they were, if Henry had picked a good college yet, but the other wanted to forget about them and the BAU forever so he could move on. “We’ve got ten bodies, all mu-.” “No! I don’t want to hear about it.” Spencer groaned and pulled the phone away from his ear to breathe smoke out through his nose. He rubbed his face and put it back. “I’m just letting you know where I am, okay?”

Knock knock knock!

“Hold on.” Spencer turned to look at the sticky door, spotting the shadow of two small feet underneath. He licked his lips and let out another breath, “Give me a second, guys.”

He got slowly to his feet, setting the phone on the bed. His legs were jello from laying down so long and drinking without moving, but he ambled his way to the door. Spencer turned the knob and tugged, then cursed when it didn't open. He pulled up and it cracked open to reveal Honey on the other side with a covered tray. 

He couldn’t help the way his eyes flickered down to her chest, the tops of her breasts happily bouncing as she seemed to jump in her spot with the tray in her hands. She’d swapped out her jeans for a pair of tight small shorts and heels, and the old tank for a tighter going out top that glittered under the lights. She still wore the gold band tied up with leather, the only item she hadn’t swapped out for something nicer. It must mean something to her, but at the moment Spencer didn’t care. 

"Soups up," she said cheerily, holding out to him. "Fried green tomatoes on wheat with ham and cheese."

Spencer squinted at her, but made no move to take the food even though he was starving. "I thought dinner was at six."

She frowned, "It's six thirty. I'm late."

Spencer lifted his wrist to check his watch, and sure enough she was right. He'd wasted the day away drinking and wallowing, something he'd rather have done in a town far away from this one. He pulled out his wallet to tip her but she shook her head. 

"Don't need to tip someone for being nice,” she told him seriously. “I always make more than I can eat. Might as well give it to you.”

“How quaint,” he mumbled, stuffing his wallet back in his pocket as she glared at him. He took the tray and went to close the door, but she stayed put. He leaned on one hip and cocked his head at her, “What?”

Honey bounced on the balls of her feet and linked her hands behind her back. “We’re having a bonfire tonight on the beach. Some drinks, some of Rose’s barbeque. Y’know… if you’re interested.”

“No offense, but that doesn’t sound like my idea of a good time.”

“You really are no fun, huh, Spencer?”

“You know, I’m starting to rethink you not calling me ‘Mr. Reid,’” he told her sternly, but she just chuckled lightly and nodded.

“How’s about this for a nickname? ‘Mr. Dreary.’” Her eyes lit up as she thought of another one. “No, ‘Stick-in-the-mud,’ ‘Stick’ for short!”

“You’re not making me want to go to a bonfire with you.”

“Shame,” she quipped back with a grin. “I’ll have to find someone else to be the life of the party.”

“You do that,” he replied, and with that shut the door in her face. He heard her little harrumph on the other side, but paid it little mind. 

Spencer carried the tray over to the bed and settled with it on his lap. The two legs rested easily on the blanket underneath him as he picked the phone back up and held it between his ear and his shoulder. 

“I’m back. Sorry about that.”

“She sounds cute, Reid!” Tara called into the receiver. “Is that why you don’t want us to come? You’re shacking up with some girl?”

Spencer scoffed and shook his head, a smile finding its way across his cheeks. “No… the front desk girl brought me dinner.”

A chorus of ooohs made him roll his eyes. “She’s like fifteen years younger than me. She’s not interested.”

“Oh, come on,” Penelope chimed in happily. “You’re forty three! That’s a perfectly acceptable age difference at your age.”

Spencer gave a noncommittal hum and lifted the lid from the tray. His mouth watered at the smell, and he’d never had fried green tomatoes, let alone on a sandwich. He nearly dropped the phone when he spotted a pair of noise canceling headphones on the tray next to the plate. Honey and Mattie May had even given him a bag of chips and a can of soda.

“Next thing we know we’ll be doing Christmas in Thunderbird, then,” Luke grumbled, and it got Spencer’s attention.

“How do you guys kno-? Garcia looked up the phone number when I was talking to Honey, didn’t she?”

“I couldn’t help myself! I wanted to make sure you were safe!”

“Her name is Honey?” Rossi asked, amusement dripping in his tone. “Kid, as a red-blooded American male, you have to sleep with the cute front desk girl if her name is Honey.”

“I never said she was cute,” he grunted. All he wanted to do was eat and go to sleep.

“You didn’t deny it, either,” JJ pointed out.

Spencer had had enough, so he toed off his boots and swiped a hand down his face to quell some of his irritation with their interrogation. “Look guys, I’m exhausted and it’s been a long day. I’ll talk to you later.”

“We miss you!” Penelope called, and it made Spencer want to crumble into a million pieces. He stared at the hardwood flooring, watched the ends of the curtains sway in time with the air conditioning as his heart tried to build better walls around itself, failing as usual.

“Yeah,” he said, then slammed the phone back in the cradle.

Sitting up against the headboard, Spencer slipped the headphones on and closed his eyes. Blessed silence washed over him as he took in a deep breath, counted to five, then let it out. 

Maybe this place wasn't so bad after all. 

I woke up on the beach with the worst hangover of my life, rivaled only by last weekend’s hangover and the one before that. I needed to stop going out… but I said that every weekend and failed by Tuesday.

Rico’s arm was slung over my waist, his morning wood pressing into my back. I pushed at him until I could sit up, swiping the sand off my clothes and glaring out at the dark ocean with the sun at my back. 

I used to love it out there, on the water. Ernie and I would spend days on the boat, lounging on the deck and watching the sun set. If I close my eyes I can still feel the spray of the ocean dusting my skin, Ernie reading beside me as I soaked up the sun. It's been years now since I've stepped foot in the water, and sometimes all I want is to walk into it and disappear into the seafoam. 

Rico and I ended up talking on the beach all night, which is not how I wanted to spend it. I’d hoped Spencer would come, as all the pressure on my shoulders would be trained on him for at least one night. I supposed I should feel bad about making a stranger the object of everyone’s interest, but I was tired of it being me. As a consequence, I drank to the point that Rico would stop asking me that damned question.

“You gonna marry me, or what, Honey?” his voice came from behind. He sat up and pressed a kiss to my cheek, his arm snaking around my waist. 

I turned enough to look at him, those dark eyes sweet and full of love for me that I can’t return. I want to return it, but I just can’t. It would make things so much easier if I could. 

I cocked my head at him and gave him my best smile though my head was pounding. “I already gave you my answer, Rico.”

“I just don’t get why,” he said quietly. I know I’m hurting him, but I’d hurt him more if I did what he wanted. I’d make him miserable because I’d be miserable, and he was too good of a man to do that to. “You love me, I love you. We have a good time together…”

His hand palmed up my bare thigh, smooth and firm. He wasn’t wrong. Naked, we had a great time together. Toe-curling, shouting the roof off kind of a great time. But it wasn’t what I wanted.

I placed my hand on his cheek and leaned my forehead against his, running my fingertips along his coarse curls. “I have love for you, Rico. I’m not in love with you. It’s not the same.”

“I’d be good to you, Hon. I swear it. Just give me a chance,” he pleaded gently. It felt wrong to have this conversation when both of our breaths smelled like a boozy kiss of death, so I got to my feet and held out my hand. 

As he took it he squeezed my fingers lightly, refusing to catch my eye. We walked hand-in-hand down the road and back to The Thunderbird Inn, all in silence as Rico chewed on my words. He’d ask me again soon, like he had been for the last few days, and I’d say no. For now, it was time to stop talking. 

Rico held the door for me as we stepped inside, and the gentleman he was he walked me to my door. I unlocked the Management door and pushed it open, then leaned against the frame and crossed my arms over my chest.

“I’m sorry,” I said. It’s true. I really was.

Rico stuffed his hands in his pockets, staring down as he shuffled his feet. “I get it. It’s okay.”

Rico’s eyes came up just enough to land on my necklace, and a shock of pain flashed behind his chocolate eyes. He sucked in a wavering breath and bit his bottom lip as I watched him. Finally, he flashed me his trademark grin and leaned against the other side of the frame. 

“I miss him too.”

“It’s not that.”

“I’m just saying.” 

“Look,” I sighed, “I’m hungover as shit, so I’m gonna go take a shower and die.”

Rico pushed himself off the door until he was nearly chest to chest with me, smiling down and making me smile back. I couldn’t help it, not when he looked like that. He leaned in and brushed his nose against mine, “You want me to help you clean up? Give you a good send off before you shuffle off this mortal coil?”

I was just about to answer when the door across the hall cracked open sharply, and Spencer stepped out, almost running into us before coming up short. I pulled back a bit from Rico, feeling very caught even though I wasn’t doing anything wrong. At least it wasn’t Rose who saw us. 

He looked better than the day before. Freshly washed hair hung just past his shoulders, his beard more closely cropped than the tumbleweed mess it had been. He wore a white tee, a red flannel tossed over his shoulder as his eyes widened.

Rico leaned an elbow on the frame behind my head and sighed in annoyance. He turned to Spencer and let out a grunt, “You need something?”

Spencer squinted at him and shook his head, “I was gonna get breakfast.”

“I’ll make you something,” I offered, pointing up the stairs to my apartment above the inn. “I was just gonna shower real quick.”

Spencer’s gaze flicked up and down my disheveled frame with a hardly disguised look of judgment. “I’ll be fine. A shower might do you good. Take a breather."

He chuckled to himself as he waltzed down the hallway, fiddling with his room key. I glared after him and his stupid khaki jeans and converse. They were tighter than he probably realized, showing off a perky backside I hadn't gotten a look at the day before. 

Rico’s hand under my chin brought me back to him, and he pressed his lips to mine before I could protest. I let myself melt into it, my eyes fluttering shut for a split second of peace. When his body pressed against mine I had to pull away. 

"We shouldn't," I told him softly, but all I really wanted was for him to pound me into that mattress until I couldn't move for the rest of the day. His muscles rippled beneath his shirt and he smelled like sweat and cologne… I shook my head, "I think it's too confusing."

"I asked you to marry me, not explain astrophysics," he murmured against my lips, smirking. "What's confusing about me relaxing you?"

I laughed lightly, but I pressed my palms against his chest to push him back. "You asked me to marry you and I said no. If I sleep with you, you'll think you have a chance."

"You gonna leave me for the cracked axle hipster?" he snarked, jerking his head toward the direction Spencer went. 

"Rico, come on," I sighed. "I don't want to get married, okay? I've been married-."

"And he died. You're not married anymore." Rico’s fingers stretched out to brush against my belly, the only reason he asked me in the first place. "We can have a family, buy that house on the beach."

"I said no," I told him firmly, swatting away his hands. "It was just a scare. I'm not pregnant and you don't have to marry me just because you thought I was."

I turned to go up the stairs, but Rico’s hand lashed out and gripped my wrist. It wasn't hard, but it was enough to piss me off as I ripped it away from him. His dark eyes were full of love and devotion, but a pained rage as well.

"You know that's not the only reason I asked," he said lowly, wracked with anguish. He took a step out of the doorway and ran a hand through his hair, "Just think about it. I know you said you would, but I know you. You're so stubborn sometimes you'll let something go completely by because you want to do it all on your own. I'm just asking to do it with you, to have you live this life with me too."

I watched him for a long moment, a part of me wanting to just say yes and move on with my life. It would be beautiful, and Rico would treat me right. We'd have a house and kids and run the shops in town together…but I'm restless. His love felt like chains, and it gutted me to have that thought run through my head. 

"I'll think about it," I relented quietly. "I promise, I'll really think about it."

He nodded once, then headed for the door. I groaned in frustration and stomped my foot on the bottom stair before heading up. 

My apartment above the inn was as big as the downstairs. Broad windows made up the walls on all sides, a kitchen in one corner and the bathroom in the center. My bed sat in the center of one wall, facing the far off ocean. I spend too many nights leaning against the sill and thinking about Ernie. I wish we still lived in our boat together… I’d rather be there than here.

A few weeks ago I started feeling faint and nauseous. Worried I might be pregnant, I took a test. It was positive, and when I told Rico he proposed on the spot. After saying no we had a long talk, then a trip to the doctor’s, who told me it was a false positive. Turns out it was anxiety, as the tenth anniversary of Ernie’s death was coming up. Since then he hasn’t stopped pestering me with proposals and declarations of love… it was suffocating, and he deserved so much better than I could ever give him. 

I’d been in Thunderbird since I was eighteen, and sometimes I was so scared to leave I just stayed still in bed, terrified and clinging to the sheets for safety. I haven’t known anything else in twelve years, and for a long time I didn’t need anything else. How could I leave the place that gave me so much? I found a husband here, a family, a home to grow in… and only a few parts of that are gone now. 

Unbeknownst to Rico and his good intentions, I’ve got one foot out the door. 

Spencer squinted through the sunlight as he read the sign above him, Collie’s Cafe. It was a brightly painted brick-faced building. A mural of an Afrolatino man in a boat was painted on the side, his long dark curls and sideways smirk eyeing Spencer as he came up the street. Flowers adorned his hair and ‘Sigue viviendo, Ernesto’ was written in an arch above his head. 

The bell above the door chimed to announce his arrival, and all eyes turned to him as he stepped inside. Spencer gave a polite nod to the gawking onlookers and made his way toward the counter. 

Collie’s was an espresso bar and bakery of sorts, the scent of freshly baked goods and hand-ground beans flooding his nose. There were some computers along the windows and ported tables in the center of the room. Spencer spotted a lone table in the back as he adjusted his satchel on his shoulder, and decided that was where he wanted to go, with his back facing the wall and all the patrons in sight.

“You must be Spencer,” a woman with a heavy accent smiled as he came up. Her dark salt and pepper curls piled in a bun on top of her head, a few errant coils framing her face. Her skin was tanned deep, lined with years and friendly smiles, the lines of which ran up to her bright green eyes. She wore a brightly colored dress with varying lines striped through it, tied tightly around her ample waist and bosom.

Spencer ran a heavy hand over the back of his neck sheepishly, “You heard about me, I take it.”

“A cracked ardatza, is what I hear,” she replied smoothly. “A traveling man like you must not like being stuck in a place, small like this.”

“It hasn’t been so bad,” he said softly, shrugging. He squinted at her, “Who told you my name?”

She leaned over the counter with a coy smile and the scent of fresh bread, “The wonderful thing about Thunderbird, is it is a place to both lose and find yourself. For someone who lives on the road, I assume you try to do one or the other, no?”

Spencer smirked back at her, unable to pull back the smile on his cheeks. “I’m just enjoying the journey and alone time.”

The woman laughed heartily, clutching her chest. She stuck out a hand for him to take, “My name is Collette, but everyone calls me Collie.”

Spencer shook her hand with a grin and a nod. He cocked his head at her, “Are you Basque, by any chance? Your accent… it’s not quite French, not quite Spanish.”

She made a pleasant humming noise and blushed, “Guipúzcoa, maitea.”

“Bay of Biscay,” Spencer said, and she nodded sweetly. “I’ve never been to Spain, but I spent some time in Paris. I’d like to see it someday.”

Collie beamed at him and squeezed his hand with both of hers before letting go, "It is beautiful. I miss it there sometimes."

"Then how'd you end up here?"

She waved her hands in front of her face, "A story for another time. How about I make you something you like and bring it to you, my treat."

"No, please. Let me pay-."

She cut him off with a tut and a pointed finger, "You're a guest. Go, go sit. I bring you something good."

Spencer nodded in thanks and headed over to the coveted corner seat. There was no use in arguing with a maternal figure like Collie. There was an ethernet port and a charging station, so he plugged in his laptop and went to work checking emails and texts he'd missed from the team. They sent him updates of their lives every few days, and he sent them pictures of his travels. 

He'd taken some pictures on his phone when he first came to town of the beaches and buildings, so he plugged in his phone to the laptop and loaded them up to send. JJ always sent him pictures of Henry and Michael, and a group photo of him and his godsons served as his desktop wallpaper. 

“Ughh, Collie!” a familiar voice burst in with the chime of the front door. Spencer watched with chagrin as Honey stomped into the cafe and saluted the Basque woman at the counter. “I need as much liquid cocaine as you got today. All espresso, regular coffee from Michelle ain’t gonna do it.”

She wore another pair of tiny denim shorts and a flowy tank top that showed off the shape of her bosom, that ring pendant resting between them like they were pillows. A pair of sunglasses perched on top of her head and espadrilles on her feet as she made her way up to Collie, looking exhausted after the long night he supposed she had. 

Collie set her hands on her hips and watched her pointedly, “I saw you with Rico on the beach last night, maitea. Is this why you are so tired?”

Honey leaned on the counter and made a face, “We were just talking, Col. That’s it.”

“That boy really wants to marry you. Why say no to such a pretty face?”

Honey smirked, “With a first husband like yours, you really want to ask me that?”

Collie’s face lit up, and she glanced Spencer’s way before rounding the corner and snatching Honey’s arm. She dragged the girl over to his table and pushed her into the seat across from him. Honey landed heavily with a oof, gripping the table and nearly knocking his laptop off in the process.

“Two maitean at one table, how sweet!” Collie squealed happily as Honey and Spencer watched her in confusion. “You do not want to marry Rico for your restless soul, and here is another one. A perfect match!”

“Collie!” Honey hissed, her lip nearly curling in irritation and embarrassment. “You can’t set me up with some random drifter-.”

“Hey,” Spencer snapped, but she just stuck out her tongue at him.

“Nonsense, I do not set up. You are not pins in the bowling game,” Collie hushed her with a waving hand. “You want coffee? You sit here, speak to the man.”

It seemed coffee was all Honey needed to be willingly held hostage by him, and her shoulders deflated as she relented. Collie turned and called off toward the kitchen, “Oye! Augustin!”

She rattled off something in Euskara, and the non-visible Augustin hollered back in Spanish. Spencer tapped the table to get Honey’s attention as she hung her arm on the back of the chair dejectedly. 

“What does maitea mean?” he asked, completely butchering the pronunciation.

Honey rolled her eyes, “My love. Maitean means in love.”

“Oh,” he nodded. Heat rushed to his cheeks as she glared across the table at him, "That Rico kid proposed and you said no, huh?"

Her eyes turned dark and fierce, "Mind your business."

Spencer shrugged, "Everyone's minding yours, why not join in?"

Honey sighed and leaned back in her chair. She fiddled with her fingers, staring down at them like they were her enemy, "I don't want to get married."

"Might as well. What else are you gonna do around here?"

"Fuck you."

"I don't sleep with women who are otherwise engaged with others, but thanks for the offer."

"Charming,"  she scoffed, rolling her eyes. Honey set her elbows on the table and leaned forward, "How has no woman scooped up such a catch?"

Spencer smirked at her, knowing how much of an ass he was being and not caring, "I've got better things to do, Honey Bear."

"Like be away from your kids?" she snarked right back, not missing a beat. When his brows furrowed she pointed at his slightly askew laptop where a picture of Henry, Michael and a well-groomed Spencer sat on the desktop. 

He snapped the computer shut and pulled it close, "They're my godsons. I'm not some absent father."

"If you've got family waiting for you somewhere, what the hell are you doing all the way out here? What do you even do for work?"

"I'm retired," he grumbled. He didn't like this woman very much, nor did he like how his jesting turned right back to himself. 

"Yeah, you look like one of those Silicon Valley tech dicks. Lemme guess, you sold your share of a company and hit the road for 'adventure' to post on your Instagram, but found alcoholism is your one true love?"

Spencer glared at her like a bothered little kid, crossing his arms over his chest. Honey didn't know him or what he'd been through, and he had no need to tell her. Luckily, he didn’t have to bitch back at her as Collie swept up with a tray of drinks of sweets.

“Karouga and my own espresso blend cappuccino,” she announced proudly as she dispersed them around. “Enjoy!”

With that she was gone tending to other customers and flitting about the tables. Spencer took the small white cup and chanced a sip, his brows raising in pleasant surprise. “I’ll say this about Thunderbird- you guys make great coffee. Y’know, it’s rich coming from someone who looked like you this morning to lecture me on alcoholism.”

“Oh, please,” she snarled dangerously, “I could see the bourbon swimming in your eyeballs last night and the scent of it wafting from your dumb mouth. I just had one too many at a party.”

Spencer poked at his karouga and smiled to himself, “Funny how you knew it was bourbon by smell alone.”

“Are you like this to everyone or am I just special?” 

“You’ve just caught my eye is all, what with those low cut tops and tiny shorts.”

Even though her jaw set tightly and she looked like she wanted to punch a hole through him, she glanced down at her lap as heat rushed to her cheeks. Honey ran an awkward hand through her hair before meeting his gaze again. 

"Tonight everyone's going to Tooky's if you're interested," she muttered irritably. "I'm tending bar, there'll be live music and food. It's a good time out on the beach."

"Doesn't really sound like my idea of a good time."

"Okay, Mr. Buzzkill, enjoy your night drinking alone in your room then."

With that she snatched her coffee and one of his karouga and stomped out the front door. Spencer watched her long legs with a smirk as he sipped from his cup, enjoying the jiggle of her backside as she angrily walked away from him. 

Maybe he could use a night out. After all, the next day was the Fourth of July and he already knew he'd be spending that curled up under the covers with the headphones Mattie May gave him. 

He cocked his head as he thought. Maybe Honey would wear another pair of those shorts and tight tees. That he wouldn't mind seeing at all. It would give him something to think about when he was holed up in his room all night tomorrow. 

And maybe he could get her to yell at him again. He didn't quite know why, but he was enjoying their snarky banter. It was nice to have something to chew on and look forward to. 

A long night of irritating the front desk girl might be exactly what he needed. 

Smurph's Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Notes: PLEASE tell me what you think... Also please don't hate on Rico haha, I love him and you will too! What do you think of Collie and how do you think the next chapter at Tooky's will go?? Have you listened to the albums that are on the Masterlist?

CM Forever Tag:

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@dottirose @lfaewrites @padsfirewhisky @wheels-upin-thirty @f-me-reid @justanothercmblog 

[aeoki]

Candy House - Programme to Fall in Love: Chapter 3

Characters: Sora, Natsume & Tsumugi Season: Winter

Sora: Still, there’s not much we can currently do~

Our goal this time is to save Sora’s friend, Ecchan. But we don’t know where Ecchan is being imprisoned.

That’s Ecchan’s wish and it’s “Switch’s” job to grant people’s wishes, right~?

Natsume: YeAH. But that’s our hidden objectiVE.

Our objective on the surface is the same as the other ES idoLS – to hype things up for “Chocolat FeST”.

Tsumugi: We should make sure we don’t forget that. We won’t last if we keep our heads in the clouds – we need to make sure our feet are firmly planted on the ground.

Sora: Yes!

But we’re doing something special for this year’s “Chocolat Fest”, right?

Natsume: YeAH. We’re leaving the “Chocolat Fest” in real life to the other idols, while we’ll be holding our own “Chocolat Fest” in the cyberworld we’re overseeiNG.

In reality, ES and Yumenosaki are big but there’s still a limit to how many people they can accommodaTE. But space is infinite in a cyberworLD.

Sora: HiHi~ The world of the internet is huge ♪

Natsume: HeHE. We’ll give our fans who can’t attend “Chocolat Fest” in person a simulated experience on the internET.

Specifically, we’ll send out the “SSVRS” devices at an exceptionally cheap price and have the interested players login through thAT.

Tsumugi: Is it okay for us to send them out for such a cheap price?

Natsume: “SSVRS” is an unknown piece of technology, so it’s important to spread the word and have people experience it for themselves right nOW. I’ve already gotten permission from “Gor-Corp”, the developers of “SSVRS”.

Sora: In fact, “Gor-Corp” was even more eager than us and told us they’d love to make that happen~

Natsume: As expected of “our ‘Gor-Corp’” – they completely ignore profiTS. They’re like those people who care more about having fun as opposed to gaining something in exchanGE.

Tsumugi: I don’t think you two realise it yourselves, but you can get like that too sometimes, you know?

Sora: HuHu~ That’s why we’re fans of “Gor-Corp” ♪

Natsume: Anyway, we’ll be inviting a large number of guests to the “Chocolat Fest” in the cyberworLD.

They’ll be able to experience the festival with all five of their senses if they use the latest version of the deviCE. They’ll use the latest “SSVRS” to enter “Candy HouSE”.

Tsumugi: You’re starting to sound like the CEO of an IT company.

Sora: HeHe~♪ With the new device, they should be able to lick the chocolate they get in the cyberworld and see that it tastes “sweet”?

Natsume: That’s rigHT. They’ll be able to experience something similar to realiTY. At times, it might feel even more realistIC.

No. We’ll be providing people with the kind of virtual reality that makes you forget realiTY. That’s what we’ll provide for those who want thAT.

HeHE. Let’s sneer at the riffraffs who cling to reality and squirm about like worMS.

A new era and a new world is upon uS. Those “old farts” who haven’t noticed that and only know how to live in the past will end up being left in the dust, gazing at our backs forevER.

It took a long tiME… We definitely went through a lot to get here, didn’t wE?

I tried to control this world physically in the beginniNG.

It was a small miniature garden in the beginniNG. I had a very hard time trying to control Yumenosaki AcadeMY.

It all started from my foolish revenge to get back at the “Emperor”, who controlled the school and pushed us asiDE…

Well, I did achieve that, so it makes me wonder what all that was about, though.

Sora: If Sora remembers correctly, you did some fortune-telling and took hold of every single student’s mind?

Natsume: YeAH. That was my raison d'être and I’m still doing it to this day. If I were to capture every single human being in that way, I wouldn’t have the time for it even if I had all the time in the world.

Besides, even if I did do that and talked them into doing it, I don’t know if they would actually become an idOL.

Generational change occurs as times go bY. The students I had in my grasp also ended up graduatiNG.

It felt like my efforts were in vaIN. I do, of course, intend on making good use of the connections I made, thouGH.

But while I was repeating my fruitless efforts, I was handed a “magical waND”.

That’s “SSVRS”. We experimented with it during the “SS” Qualification Round in “SHINSEKAI”, and I learnt that I should make good use of iT.

At the same time, we made it so that people were entranced by this magIC – to the point they couldn’t even dream of living without iT.

Those who only live in reality won’t notice it at aLL. We’re definitely invading and controlling people’s dreaMS - slowly but sureLY.

And now that we’ve captured countless dreams, we might be able to use some super fancy magic that we’ve never used befoRE.

Tsumugi: We ran into danger quite a few times, though~ “AKATSUKI” stormed in after hearing the rumour that you guys were controlling Yumenosaki, right?

Natsume: I still don’t understand what that was aboUT. They just made a fuss, went on a rampage and then left after they were satisfied, like some passing tornaDO.

But even if they decide to persecute me in reality, like some witch hunt, that won’t stop the magIC. We’ve overcome numerous hardships to gain this huge magical powER.

Sora: HoHo~♪ And what are we gonna do with that power? We’re gonna save Sora’s friend, Ecchan, right? Sora knew Master~ was a goodhearted person.

Sora has always respected Master~♪

Natsume: HehEH. I’m not like that “EmperOR”. I’m not controlling the world to take advantage of the position and to fill my own pockeTS.

I’m doing it to remove as much sadness as I can from this worLD.

I wanted to become stronger so that I wouldn’t have to cry anymoRE.

I think my dream will come true thanks to everyone’s efforTS.

Tsumugi: Hehe. I’m glad. All’s well that ends well ♪

Natsume: Nothing’s ended yET. In fact, everything has only just begUN.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ← Previous Chapter ᠂ ⚘ ˚⊹˚ ⚘ ᠂  Next Chapter →

[bluesdesk]

Hello!! I know I’m really inactive but I've joined the CTCGiftx2024! My giftee, @najikasunart, wrote some prompts that I tried to mix (hopefully into something that makes sense XD), and damn I really loved working on the resulting fic!

I think it might be one of my best fics so far, if not the best! Here it is!

Sky and Wild centric! Hurt/Comfort, nobody dies, there's some blood! And some happy moments at the end, 8008 words :D

You can also read it here, under the cut!

Words (and their consequences)

Sometimes a bad choice of words can cause one to be hurt. Other times, those words might destroy who happened to hear them. The latter is way rarer, but when it happens, it's really difficult to get those words off the mind of a scattered person. The heroes know it well. One time they were talking about magic, at the beginning of their adventure, and Warriors, not paying attention to his words, and still mad at Cia, said that dark magic was the worst and everyone using it should be damned. Twilight took it really badly, and decided he'd keep his wolf form a secret. Four got silent and left the conversation. Legend took a couple of rings off his hand and put them in his bag. Warriors noticed, and gave them his most sincere apologies, but Twilight couldn't get past that and kept the secret until he could, until the damn lizalfos almost killed him.

Of course, the heroes aren't perfect nor do they know everything that might hurt another companion. They try their best to avoid any topic that could be triggering, but battles can be exhaustingly hard, and make the chain forget.

This time, they were fighting against Dink again, that had chosen to shapeshift from lizalfos to Dark Twilight. Days had passed since they left the unknown Hyrule, they had other smaller battles, and traveled through a few portals. Twilight had recovered enough to fight but he surely wasn’t in perfect shape. The monster, now a dark silhouette, had passed days in contact with Twilight, a part of it getting into his system and studying every single inch of him, until Hyrule’s magic was too much for it to handle and it left the body allowing the rancher to heal. Anyway, Dark Link had enough info at that point.

The battle took place in a vast field, no sign of recent civilization, the grass looked wet and a bit slippery. They hadn’t gotten the chance to look around and recognize the era, as they hopped off the portal and found Dink standing there, eyes red, holding what looked like a sword behind his back, and with a horde of blue and red bokoblins behind. Sky felt like something was oddly familiar with that weapon, and realized in shock the Dark was holding Demise’s sword. If Ghirahim was there too, the battle was going to be a bloodbath! With a scream, badly sounding like a “hyaaa”, the Dark unleashed the other monsters, before Sky could say a word. They were from his era. They were in his era.

And so it began, the heroes trying to come up with a plan as fast as they could, Sky instructing them, shouting while fighting, on how to handle those monsters. In the meantime, Time and Twilight were the closest to Dink, as it was mimicking Twilight’s movements, Twilight’s best movements, from when he didn’t even have a scratch. The two heroes had noticed, and chose to defend themselves rather than attack, to at least tire it and distract it from attacking the others, who were fighting the secondary enemies, moving as fast as they could to reduce their number and then help with Dink. Warriors went closer to Sky to confess he somehow knew the demon lord and the imprisoned, yes it wasn’t the right time for that but he felt the need to tell him what he faced must have been at least terrible. Sky had only enough time to reply with “yeah”, and then back to swinging his sword, parrying with his shield, and mostly concentrating on the goal: clear enough monsters to go help Time and Twilight, and maybe face Ghirahim if he was still in there.

He hoped Ghirahim was at least asleep like Fi.

A blue bokoblin targeted him and he dodged the attack, then proceeded to cut through its skin. It attacked again in vain, Sky already knew their tactics. With the last swing of Fi, the bokoblin fell on the ground, screamed, then disappeared, leaving only black blood behind. That wasn’t any news for them, of course, given the fact Dink was right there. Another blue bokoblin, another precise sequence of attacks.

And then another, another…

Until someone screamed. One of them. Warriors was next to the chosen hero and wasn’t hurt, Time and Twilight were still around Dink, Hyrule was running towards a bloody Wind. Wind’s right side was bleeding! Sky rushed there to help, those monsters were from his era, they should have all targeted him, not Wind! He was there quickly enough to stick his sword into the abdomen of a red bokoblin, luckily that was enough to put it down. He proceeded to cover Hyrule as he carried Wind away to get medication.

Less heroes, but less enemies, he thought. Just one, precise stab, and an infected red bokoblin was gone. The others were having a harder time with them, maybe it was Fi’s power to be unbearable for the monsters.

He continued slashing and parrying until he felt like he was going in a loop, something was wrong. Giving a better look at all the area, he noticed the number of monsters had remained exactly the same. They were respawning… Ghirahim could do that, he once spawned them to prevent him from reaching Sun!

Hyrule ran back to the battlefield, Sky signed him to take his place, while he turned around and joined Time and Twilight, informing them they needed to destroy that sword first or all their efforts would be in vain.

Warriors heard that and joined them. Now four heroes were against Dink, Wind was out and the other four were slowly moving behind to be back to back with the first quartet. They’d defend them as they tried to destroy or damage Demise’s sword. As Sky imagined, Fi was fighting her own battle against Ghirahim, both still into their respective weapons, both half asleep, but they were there.

While Time, Twilight and Warriors attacked Dink, Sky was trying so hard to hit the sword and shatter it.

But the Dark was swift. After several times he was losing hope… then saw a feeble blue light coming from the Master Sword. Was Fi helping him somehow? He concentrated. Just one, precise, fast motion. Now!

The Master Sword clashed with its counterpart so hard everyone heard it. The weapon fell from Dink’s hands, the tip into the ground. When he gave Demise the fatal blow, the sword fell in that same way, then disappeared. He thought he had destroyed it along with the demon deity. And this time, it disappeared too. Was it enough? He didn’t know, but took the chance to swing Fi directly at Dink as it was unarmed.

Dink dodged and laughed maniacally, as the sword reappeared right in front of the hero’s eyes.

Sky couldn’t believe it. The following blow sent him out of the battlefield, right where Wind was resting, his back hit a tree and he screamed in pain, both for the impact and for the blood coming from a dangerous scar on his chest. Luckily, he had an enhanced red potion. His condition was so bad, he had that potion that could be used twice, and drinking only half meant his recovery would be full but take one hour at least…

He swallowed it all.

It took him ten minutes to be able to walk again, too long minutes, in which Warriors was hit on the head, lost consciousness, and was rescued by Legend. Yes, Sky should have waited more for the potion to have full effect, but he didn’t care, he had to get back there. He couldn’t make another “brother of the sword”, as Wild liked to address them, get hurt like that! Yes, when he met Legend and Wars on his way back to the field, he had a spare normal red potion he could give the captain. No, he didn’t have another one besides that. He only had a last resort he had never used during this adventure. Only one. Immense power, invincibility, then total exhaustion. He hoped he could avoid using that.

When he got there again, Hyrule scolded him for getting up too soon. He needed to rest, or he wouldn’t heal properly, and anyway he would be vulnerable as he wasn’t at his best! Sky knew he was right, his back was still hurting, but now it didn’t matter, he didn’t have time to listen to him, so he turned away and faced the other heroes and… Dink? Where was it?

The faces of the others turned from confusion to horror when a scream reached their ears and Sky turned around again to see Hyrule with a huge cut right where Twilight got his. The Dark had taken advantage of that short discussion to attack him easily. Sky and Legend shielded him from the other monsters as the traveler healed himself, his magic was just enough to make the wound not fatal, he then fainted, and Legend carried him away, next to Warriors and Wind who were slowly recovering but in no shape to fight. Without the healer, Wind, and Warriors, and everyone else getting tired, the hypothesis of a defeat was getting closer.

Dink reappeared next to Time, who managed to parry without getting hurt. Sky had helped Wild with the bokoblins while Legend was out of the battlefield, then went back to join Twilight and Time as they circled Dink. They were tired but they’re excellent fighters, and with a lot of concentration, Sky managed to make the Dark unbalanced by hitting Demise’s sword other times, and the other two took advantage of that moment to impale it with their swords, causing the dark to scream in a voice that sounded like Twilight’s but distorted and horrific. It laughed maniacally again, and the sword went floating above everyone. It had really woken Ghirahim up. Sky got ready. Everyone looked up for a moment but Twilight took a second too long, he was so tired, almost at his limit. For the lack of dark blood, Dink turned back to its formal lizalfos shape and hit Twilight right on his still healing scar with its heavy tail. The pain and exhaustion were so strong the rancher fainted. Without looking back or stopping at all, Dink had run away and disappeared in the forest around the field.

Legend, Four and Wild noticed the bokoblins weren’t spawning anymore, and went back to reduce their number. Time took Twilight and brought him away, feeling his rage increasing. Of course he would heal quickly this time but damn it, it still hurted. And moreover, they had 4 heroes unable to fight! This was the worst battle ever, and it could go even worse. Wind and Warriors were awake and reassured him they were going to be fine, Wind’s side had a huge scar instead of a deep cut and blood, but his strength was yet to be restored. And Wars had a huge bump on his head, and Hyrule and Twi were k.o.

In the meantime, the moment Sky was sadly waiting for happened. Demise’s sword emanated a disgusting red light, and in no time the heroes were facing the man with a pale skin, a red cape, and a strange hairstyle. Ghirahim’s target was Sky of course, but the chosen hero was ready and blocked all his attacks. He knew him too well to commit any mistake. Time came back, he was furious. Sky looked like he was keeping up well. Like the other time, he could help the others with Din’s fire. Then, everyone would be free and they’d all concentrate on Ghirahim. It could work. Maybe the fire would startle the enemy a bit too.

So Time went for it, a sphere of fire emanated from his sword, magical fire, that destroyed all the smaller enemies without hurting any of the heroes or the nature around. Ghirahim though didn’t even flinch, instead he quickly left Sky alone and targeted Time with his red diamond shaped blades. Time was on his knee, about to stand up after using the spell. Sky was quick enough to notice his enemy was about to change the target and shouted “shield!”. Time took the mirror shield and protected himself from all the blades… except the one stuck just above his knee. He held back a scream of pain and stood up when the magical blade disappeared. Ghirahim laughed and walked closer and with his hands was about to create another set…

When his arms dropped and his expression changed to anger and pain. The Master Sword firmly in his shoulder, Sky holding it tightly with both his hands.

Everyone knew that wasn’t enough but the damage was surely high. Ghirahim lost his temper, leaving Time alone and turning back to Sky with a crazily furious face. “I never imagined you’d become this quick”, he said with his voice sounding way more metallic and serious. “But you know I can do much more than this!”.

Everyone watched as Ghirahim changed shape, color, and nature. Almost everyone, except for Sky and Warriors, had been questioning how a human could appear from a sword, now everyone knew ghirahim’s true form. Legend, Wild, Four and Time walked closer to help Sky, but Ghirahim sent them away with something like an energy wave, as a circular gate made of diamond shapes appeared around him and Sky. Legend and Wild tried to run into it, jump over it, damage it, but nothing worked, it looked like they had an invisible tall wall all around. They realized they could do nothing but watch. Legend went to check on Hyrule and the others, he and Twilight were slowly regaining consciousness. The others looked for any potion, or fairy, or anything that could help Sky after the match in case he got hurt (again) and realized in shock they had no red potions left. Nor stamina. Only some magic ones, Hyrule would most likely use them to heal the others but he still wasn’t ready.

Four’s mind felt so divided and it wouldn’t shut up. His worries, sometimes Green’s, sometimes Red’s, for his friends clashed with Vio’s and Blue’s questions about Ghirahim. Was there a way to defeat it? The sword itself? Or was it going to disappear again and reappear later to doom them all? If it could be destroyed, why hadn’t Sky done it during his adventure?

Wild had some meals left but nothing with enough healing qualities, he surely couldn’t give him a ton of like… apples, to reach the properties of a potion. He was getting terrified. Ghirahim was no other than a demon god’s servant, assistant, and weapon. Ghirahim’s master was the source of all evil. And Sky was already tired and hurt, and he had no potions and nobody could help. If he allowed himself to loosen the guard for a millisecond, Ghirahim would kill him with nobody able to stop it! Were the heroes going to lose a member for real this time? Was he about to lose a brother of the sword again? He needed to stay calm and avoid acting like days ago, he had promised Four he wouldn’t lose control again.

And Sky and Ghirahim were fighting. Sky's movements were precise, but certainly not his best. Maybe he was just so tired. After long minutes of swords clashing Sky felt the exhaustion and the pain increasing rapidly, Ghirahim laughing, that disgusting noise making the situation even harder and more hateful and he damn knew he wouldn’t win like that, he would collapse. Why did he feel pain again? Did he get new injuries? He quickly found himself unable to do anything useful, he was just defending himself. He couldn’t move enough to attack. He was getting slow. The others outside the gate were watching the show breathlessly.

Sky’s last resort was there, the white colored potion. He hesitated a bit, while dodging a set of diamond blades. He had to drink it. He’d destroy Ghirahim, and get his damn rest. When he got the potion, Luv and Bertie told him to be extremely cautious and only use it when he had no other option. He’d be too exhausted to fight at all after the three minutes of invincibility, he had to be sure to defeat the enemy in that short time.

He couldn’t wait anymore.

He gulped it all in one sip, and in no time felt his energy coming back, his strength increasing, his skin getting thicker. A diamond blade was thrown at him, it met his arm, stopped and fell, like it had impacted on a wall. No scratches, no pain. Sky felt like a superhero. Three minutes were enough. He charged at Ghirahim, Fi was pointed towards the enemy’s huge diamond on his bust. This time, it was Ghirahim trying to defend himself how he could. Could a sword spirit feel fear? Sky didn’t know. Three minutes.

The others were all watching, Time could almost see himself wearing the Fierce Deity mask and fighting Majora in Sky and Ghirahim. They were all surprised and even Wind got closer to the gate to watch.

Finally, they heard a scream, and glass shattering. They all stood up as the gate disappeared, and looked at Sky, the most furious he could be, standing still with the Master Sword in hand. At his feet was Ghirahim, with his diamond broken. Sky was taking deep breaths that slowly turned into panting, almost wheezing, and then a smirk. He had really done it! He couldn’t believe in himself, he had destroyed it!

The three minutes were ending. The others didn’t know anything about the potion nor the side effects.

In no time Sky felt like he had been struck by lightning, his movements got so slow and then he couldn’t move, he was just… standing there, unable to do anything other than breathing. His right arm, with Fi, was slightly shaking. He realized he couldn’t control his body.

His relief and satisfaction instantly turned into terror. What was happening to him?

Like his fight with Demise, his enemy had gotten a fatal wound. Right in the chest. But somehow, for he didn't know what force, the enemy still had the strength to pronounce a last sentence.

Ghirahim lifted his head, and a forced laugh came out of his mouth. Sky wanted to stop him, give him another final blow, end him once and for all. But he couldn't move. Even his voice felt stuck there, and now his hand was visibly shaking and he still couldn't do anything about it!

And Ghirahim started talking, Sky couldn’t concentrate.

Was he stuck there? Was he going to cast another curse? Was Sky going to die right then because of all the potions he took in a relatively too short time?

Wild appeared in front of Sky, furious, with the Master Sword in hand, that he quickly pressed into Ghirahim’s already broken diamond with all his force, enough to make Fi stick in the ground beneath him. Ghirahim's sentence ended with a choked wheeze, in the middle of a curse he was about to cast but then lost all its value. In no time, only a broken and powerless sword was left, that Wild put into his slate for later.

Wild must have taken Fi from Sky's hand, though the chosen hero hadn't noticed, or felt, anything.

Only that his head was spinning and the pain from before he took the guardian potion had come back stronger and he felt like falling but his knees didn’t bend at all.

Wild quickly and quite scarily turned his face to Sky. Oh Hylia he was so angry. He looked so done.

“Why didn't you finish it?”

He raised his voice.

“SKY. WHY didn't you finish it??”

Sky was really trying to answer. His voice came out so low it looked like he was whispering.

“I…”

The world got blurry. Everything had happened in like 2 minutes. From when Sky stopped moving to when Wild talked. Was he slowly losing consciousness, was he slowly fainting? Sky felt like he was going to fall any second now, he just wanted to rest, to move, to scream. But Wild didn't seem to understand, maybe from the outside Sky looked better than how he really felt. Wild spoke again.

“You what?? It could have cursed us! Or killed you!”

And yes Sky now really felt like he was a failure, if he and Ghirahim were alone that monster would have cursed everyone and then killed him with the remaining strength! Sky knew it! A failure! And he needed to scream and the world was spinning and his ears were ringing so loud, he was about to faint and Wild was right there in front of him literally showing him how easy was his one job he didn’t do!

“YOU DESTROY THINGS NOT ME!”

was the only thing coming out of Sky's mouth, sounding so broken, and so loud.

“AT LEAST IT'S A THING! YOU CAN'T EVEN DO THAT!” Shouted Wild. He had snapped again.

And after that, Sky finally fell. Heavily on the ground, pale.

Four reached Wild, his eyes so blue, and looked him right in the eyes, getting mad at him for losing his temper again. Wild came back to senses, Fi still in his hand. He left her on the ground and quickly kneeled down to help Sky, rambling, a sequence of “Oh Hylia” and “I’m sorry” escaping from his mouth. How hadn’t he noticed anything? Sky had been right in front of him, surely already pale and dizzy and unable to move, and he hadn't noticed anything! He let his anger towards Dink, Ghirahim, his own failure and fear to lose another one, and who knows what more, win. And of course he wasn't angry at Sky at all, he was extremely worried he could get killed or cursed by his enemy in its last moments that he didn't really look at him and notice Ghirahim wasn't the main problem there. The same had happened with Twilight. Four had helped him again. This time, though, Wild had snapped back to his senses much faster. He could help.

Sky's heart was beating… too slow. His breath wasn’t normal. Something was so wrong there, pure exhaustion couldn’t make one so messed up. He alerted the others and Legend quickly ran to Hyrule.

In the meantime Wild tried to wake Sky up, but nothing worked, and he started crying. The downfall duo came back and the healer examined Sky. His wound from Dink had closed in a too forced way, too soon and thus too badly. His back looked bruised and hurt, like if a vertebra or 2 were in the wrong position and pressing against his skin. He was full of fresh smaller cuts, almost the same one Time had gotten from the diamond blade. But the main problem there was inside. A cocktail of potions, as Hyrule defined it, taken in a too close time and all super powerful. They had acted like poison together, the guardian potion made the process slower until the magic effect lasted, and then it quickly got him, because that clear potion itself left the hero without any strength to resist. Sky had been poisoned by the potion he had taken, and he had taken them to get back to fight Dink and Ghirahim, to save his companions, to prevent them from getting hurt. Did he feel like everything was his own responsibility?

Hyrule used his spell, luckily none of Sky’s injuries were infected, but he had to work hard to fix what the potions had done, and he wouldn’t wake up for hours until he regained some strength. If only he had rested when he got hurt the first time he wouldn’t have been in that situation.

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Sometimes a bad choice of words can cause one to be hurt. Other times, those words might destroy who happened to hear them. The latter is way rarer, but when it happens, it's really difficult to get those words off the mind of a scattered person. That had just happened

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Sky found himself in a void area. He was floating. Yeah, that looked pretty much like his prophetic dreams, but il felt vivid. A light lit up and Wild was talking in the distance, he couldn’t hear him. He needed to reach him, but he found himself unable to move, like before. He was floating there, just watching.

The void turned into a beach and a kid, probably 12 years old, in a light blue shirt and curly blonde hair approached him. His rolled sleeves showed arms full of scars, he was crying. He looked at Sky and seemed to have found a little relief. “Please stranger! My sister has been kidnapped, I must save her but it’s hard! Please help me!”. Sky wanted to help, that was Wind, during his first adventure. The kid looked so scared. But Sky couldn’t move. After he didn’t know how long, the little Wind went away, disappointed.

He had failed him.

And then he heard a small voice calling him. Another kid showed up, he was younger, 10 years old at best. He had freckles and curly brown hair. “Sir… I got lost, I’m scared, I don’t know how to go back home and there are monsters all around. Please help me!”. The black void was now Hyrule’s land, and the hero was just a small unarmed kid. Sky really needed to do something! But he couldn’t! And little Hyrule left with nothing but sadness on his face, into a too dangerous, desolate land. Sky still didn’t know how he survived.

He had failed him.

And then the land shifted into a field, and a forest in the distance. Another little kid showed up, blonde hair, long ears, and already a sword and a wooden shield in hand. He was on the verge of tears. When he noticed Sky he too felt relieved and ran into him. He was asking for affection, he had just lost his father and left his siblings in the forest, and his sister Saria made him understand he wouldn’t come back. He asked for directions, for a hug, for company. And Sky didn’t answer. The kid ran away, sobbing. “This is unfair! I just want to go back home!” Was the last thing he said before he and his land disappeared into the void.

Kids. They were just kids. He wanted to cry but he was stuck there and couldn’t even do that, that feeling was the worst he had ever had. Wild reappeared in sight and Sky regained his speech, like if Wild was controlling his abilities. Wild came closer, and said he wasn’t doing anything wrong, he was only showing him the truth: he couldn’t do enough, he was too slow, back then with Demise and recently with Ghirahim, he had let the demon curse everyone and the repercussions had echoed in all the eras, forcing teens and kids to endure endless suffering. Then, he disappeared again, leaving him floating there.

And then other kids and teens appeared, he tried to interact with them, to talk, but they couldn’t listen. They asked him for help, he answered, they either couldn’t hear him or were disappointed at his answers. And they were all his current companions, reversed to their age on their first adventure. Wind, Hyrule, Time, Legend and Four were so damn young. And Wild appeared and introduced them as they walked.

He had never had such long dreams of that kind. But that oniric Wild, he was right. Sky had failed them all and wasn’t worthy of being with them. They were all in danger with him around, he’d slow them down and they’d end up getting cursed or killed because of him! He wasn’t meant to hang out with those real heroes, he couldn’t even kill his own enemy! He needed to go away before they found out about the curse, or they would never forgive him. Yes they’d be questioning his absence for some time, but then they’d realize they’d be faster and generally better without him getting in the way.

After some time, probably hours, Wild reappeared in front of him. This time, he could not only see and hear him, but also feel his presence, he looked so real. His hands were covered in flames, and he was slowly going closer. Sky quickly found himself on the floor, able to move his arms and hands again. He mumbled some incomprehensible sounds and tried to defend himself as the oniric Wild hovered his flaming hands around his face and, as soon as they made contact with his cheeks, he screamed.

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That woke him up. He was terrified. He was sweating, he was panting, he was panicking, he was…

in a bedroll and Wild, the real Wild, was in front of him, cupping his face with warm, absolutely not burning hands. He had cooked something, since there was an amazing smell of food. In fact, he noticed a steaming cup of pumpkin soup laying right next to Wild. Sky’s breath was going back to normal as Wild guided him in inhaling and exhaling, and the others all stood up and came closer to see him finally getting up after…

“You’ve been knocked out for 3 days” Hyrule said, getting closer and kneeling down to check on him.

Sky looked around while Hyrule checked his wound. They weren’t in that field but somewhere else entirely.

“We’re in a new era, still unknown to us. We’ve traveled through a portal shortly after the last battle”.

Sky realized the others had carried him around, defending him, wasting their potential for him, while he was totally useless. On the other side of the bedroll, Wild was patiently waiting for Hyrule to finish, with the soup now in his hands. He looked like he had understood Sky’s intentions, and told him everything will be alright, no need to worry. Hyrule, instead, chose to be more direct, telling him he should have taken one potion and then rested like everyone else did, instead of taking not one, but two enhanced potions together and then rushing into battle when his body wasn’t ready and then taking another absolutely not healing potion that erased his already lacking strength and had side effects his body still couldn’t bear. He concluded by saying the situation was worse than he imagined, if it took not hours but 3 days to heal. He was fine now though. He just needed to stay away from danger and potions for a few days to heal completely. Wild gave Sky his soup and Sky stared deeply at it, telling Hyrule “you will never see me do that again”.

Hyrule looked satisfied, smiled at him, patted his right shoulder, and walked away to inform the others about the situation. Wild had to go too, but after standing up he stared, worried, at Sky eating his soup. Something about what he said was extremely strange, if it was any other hero saying that, Wild would have thought the boy had secretly planned to do something extreme. But Sky would never do that, he was always so sunny, bringing happiness… unless he was in a fight with his worst enemy that nearly killed him and then someone even told him he was useless. Damn. Sky looked fine though, enjoying his soup. Maybe it was just him worrying too much. He walked towards the others, who were sitting on some logs and bedrolls around a fire with a pot on, and asked if anyone wanted more soup.

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During that day, Sky had been acting quite normally, only a bit thoughtful, less smiley. He and the others had a training session, walked around in search of a town, found a spring of fresh water and filled all their water bottles, finally found a small village and bought arrows, potions and food. They asked around for monster sightings but the people there knew nothing. They booked a room in an inn and prepared to spend a relaxing night for once. Of course, everyone thought Sky was still recovering from that battle that hurt him physically and mentally, and didn’t question his lack of smiles and laughs.

Instead there was a deeper reason, he had to escape. That night nobody was taking shifts, as they were all in the safety of beds. Sky had been questioning himself many times during the last hours if it was the right thing to do, he loved his companions, but every time the thought of them being slowed down by his presence, he was more convinced he had to leave the heroes. They’d thank him later. If it wasn’t him, if Wild or Legend or Four were fighting Ghirahim instead of him, they would have ended it sooner and less pathetically and they surely wouldn't have frozen in front of it and maybe they wouldn't even have needed the guardian potion. Ah yes, the only thing he managed to do in all of it was poisoning himself apparently.

But Fi… the others were her masters too, he couldn’t bring her with him. It would be like stealing everyone’s most valuable weapon. Yes that Master Sword was his, the others had their own in their own times.

In their own times, not there. Was he really going to leave without her? Maybe he’d go back, maybe when everything had ended he’d join the others back to take Fi and bring her home with him. Or maybe not, maybe Fi was destined to travel with those real heroes. After all, Ghirahim was dead now, wasn’t it? Demise was gone too, and Sky’s other tools or a simple sword were more than enough for the smaller monsters in his era.

He was losing a too long time there thinking about it. The right thing was obviously leaving her with the group! So, Sky took his other tools, a few food rations,his sailcloth, and a potion… no, no potions. Hyrule had told him he had to avoid potions for some days. He finally closed his bag and, as quietly as he could, left the inn. He wasn’t heard or seen by anyone.

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Everyone slept so well that night. Twilight woke up early to watch the sunrise, without any worry, just for that day. The rancher hadn’t paid attention to the silhouettes of his companions sleeping in their beds, why would he have to anyway. They were all warm and safe and the village was lively, really no sign of any monster, he had started to question why they were there, maybe Hylia was giving them some rest, or maybe, like the other time, the enemy was hiding in the woods. Twilight was sitting on the steps of the little stone staircase leading from the ground to the entrance of the inn, just looking around and enjoying the peace. There was a round square with a fountain in the center, and the buildings were around it. All around, there was a field and then a forest. They were most likely high in altitude, probably on a mountain valley, as he could see the silhouettes of mountaintops, and everything was made of wood and stone. It was really peaceful.

Twilight was later interrupted by Four, looking quite surprised.

“I thought Sky would have woken up after all of us, instead he got up before me and Hyrule! Hyrule wanted to check on both of you, but Sky isn’t inside. Were you two together?”

Twilight’s face showed pure confusion. Nobody had opened or closed that door before Four that morning.

“Strange, there’s no chance he got up before you and went for a walk. And if that was the case he should be here now already. But I assure you he’s not inside the inn. The Master Sword is on his bed though.”

After some minutes in which the two stared at each other in total confusion, Hyrule and Wild showed up.

The first two informed them about the situation and as Hyrule joined them with a confused face, Wild realized his concern from the day before wasn’t unfounded and quickly alerted the other 3 and rushed in to wake the others up. There was no time to lose. Maybe Sky hadn’t heard his apologies, maybe everything that happened had impacted him more than what everyone could have imagined.

The 8 heroes were all in the bedroom. Silent. Looking at the Master Sword and then at each other, all ready with weapons and shields and tunics. Though usually, Sky would have charged them all with optimism and energy and they would have taken the path all together smiling and laughing at someone's horrible joke. Time couldn’t understand how they had ended in that situation, yes he and Wild had had that messed up discussion but was that alone enough to cause Sky to react that way? Maybe, everyone realized, he had been told he was useless before, maybe in his quest, by someone important, and that had left a huge scar that had been reopened. Wild had a similar story, if someone told him he was a failure, if one of his companions died because he wasn’t fast enough or good enough to save them, he would have done the same, like he almost did when Twilight was hurt. Of course, not because of that single episode, but because of everything behind it. Maybe, the scar had never truly closed and Sky had forced himself to be optimistic and happy to avoid showing them he felt like he wasn’t enough. If that was the case, the chance he would do something extreme was higher. They had to find him as soon as possible!

They didn’t know that place nor where to look. Their initial research was inconclusive. They looked around the village, in the nearest woods, they took the opposite route of the day before, they asked some villagers, but nothing. Where had Sky gone? Was he really that far? They even divided and searched in groups, but came back to the inn with nothing. It was already afternoon, in about 3 hours the sun would have setted. They were getting tired. They absolutely didn’t want to leave Sky alone, but they had no idea on what to do.

Wild took the Master Sword and held it eye level. Sky had said Fi was way more than a voice. She was a companion… and a guide! Maybe she could help, if she was still there.

They couldn’t talk with her or see her, but maybe…

Wild walked to the center of the square, near the fountain, and held the sword with both his hands. He started moving it aimlessly, upward, downward, forward. He needed to understand how to make it work.

Then, he noticed a feeble blue light appearing for a moment then disappearing, something was happening. He swung it again and again and noticed the light appeared always when held horizontally. The others noticed too and came closer. Wild held it firmly, forward. The light was there, but so dim, almost nothing. Slowly, he started turning around, completing a segment of a circle. And then a semi circle, still nothing more happened. The others looked surprised and confused, but they felt there was something right with what Wild was doing. And after another bit, a visible blue light lit up.

They didn’t know what it was, how it happened and what it meant. But maybe Fi was really trying to show them the way, they could follow her direction, it was worth trying.

For maybe the first time after he woke up in the shrine, Wild was not only following directions, but also giving the others directions. He had been in charge of using the Master Sword as he had found out how it worked. Nobody else’s Master Sword had any ability other than being able to seal darkness and channeling energy for a spin attack, so the heroes were all extremely curious. Even Time found that interesting, and Legend and Four were trying to understand the magic and logic behind the ability.

The path they took was full of obstacles, but of course the shortest. Fi was guiding them towards the forest, the dense vegetation and tall fir trees created patterns of lights and shadows, that reminded them they now had about 2 hours to find Sky before they found themselves traveling in the dark. The ground was slippery and some slopes were steep, and yet they were almost running, the sword giving them hope.

Wild couldn’t deny that looking for Sky, with him as the leader, was making him feel useful and put aside his own recurring thoughts about his failure. Maybe being alone for so long had enhanced those, and now adventuring with some companions was finally making him see the truth. He couldn’t say he was totally over it, or he wouldn’t have lost control when Twilight was dying and when Sky was about to be cursed, but he was surely healing. After that adventure, when he’d eventually go back, he needed to explore his land with Flora and help every citizen. That thought made him smile softly.

Four and Legend, walking next to him, noticed it and asked if he sensed they were getting closer. Wild answered the smile was for something else, but they surely were, every step in the right direction was shortening their distance. Or at least, they hoped so. They chose to believe in Fi’s light, that, they had noticed, was somehow getting brighter.

They couldn’t believe Sky could have walked that far by pure force of will. They were taking a huge shortcut, with Fi’s help, and they had already taken 2 hours to get where they were. They still hadn’t found him and they only had one hour. Twilight checked his amount of oil for the lantern, Legend and Four checked their own tools. Wars used to have a lantern during his quest but it broke, luckily Legend said he had another one in case they needed more light. Nobody was surprised by his statement. Classic Legend.

Then, Four noticed something. There were monster footprints on the muddy ground. Lizalfos, most likely.

So there were monsters in that era! Monsters they had to catch and destroy before crossing another portal. Near the monster’s, a human pair of footprints was imprinted on the ground, coming from the right, turning and going straight ahead. And the Master Sword was pointing right in that direction.

Did the monsters take Sky? Or did Sky chase them? There was only one way to know.

The heroes were running, now with the footprints and Fi’s help together following the path was a piece of cake. Maybe they were still on time. They were getting a bit worried, but Sky was the best at fighting, yes his shape wasn’t the best but he could make it. As they got deep into the forest, they noticed it was full of fireflies. The sun had set now, but thanks to the little creatures they could still see quite well.

They stopped abruptly when they heard the noise of swords clashing and monsters screaming. They were all on top of a small C or gulf shaped cliff, about 2 meters tall. On the ground below them were 3 green lizalfos, armored and with what looked like a huge arm guard, one with its spiked tail already cut off and black blood dripping from the open wound. The man the heroes were looking for was right there. Sky was fighting the monsters alone with his whip, beetle and bow.

The heroes, ready with their swords and bows, were ready to jump down and help. Wild had Fi with him and he of course wanted to give her to her master!

But Sky made eye contact with him for a brief second before dodging a tail attack, and be it because he had Fi in hand, or because of the fireflies, or because he had understood he and Sky were extremely similar in a way, Wild got the message. They had to stay there. He turned back and looked at the others.

“Everyone stop!”

The others looked at Wild extremely confused, but did as he said. Four asked why, Warriors stated he wasn’t going to leave a companion in danger alone.

“I wouldn’t either! But that’s what he wants and what he needs. If we jump there and kill even one of those infected monsters for him, he’d feel like we think he isn’t good enough. Instead he will defeat them all!”

Wild turned back at Sky and swung the Master Sword to make him notice it. Sky raised his right arm, after hitting one of the lizalfos with the whip, and Wild threw him the sword, which the chosen hero catched perfectly from the handle. He smiled, and nodded in gratitude. As he slashed the monster, Wild continued.

“I made him feel useless. That probably hurted him way more than we imagine. Like talking about my own failure, it still hurts even now, you’ve clearly seen it. He probably needs to prove himself, and me, he can do this, fighting without our help. I don’t want to steal him another opportunity to end an enemy for good”

The others agreed with Wild. Sky was perfectly capable of defeating 3 infected lizalfos on his own, and if that could make him feel better, if that could heal his pure soul, then it was the right thing to do.

The monsters screamed.

In few, fast and precise moves the lizalfos were all nothing but black smoke, blood, and a bunch of tails and horns. Wild was the first to jump down and immediately threw himself on Sky to hug him tight. It was finally time for him to give the hero his formal apologies, apologies Sky knew were the truest and most genuine he had ever heard. Of course he hugged Wild back and reassured him he felt better now, he had been so mad at himself for having failed again and those lizalfos were all he needed to release the anger. The others reached them shortly after, after letting the two heroes have a moment for themselves first.

They all hugged Sky and Wild or gave pats to their backs, and then promised to remember they were all valuable, worthy, and strong enough. Wild joined them promising that he’d be extra careful and try his best to not snap again, and Sky followed. He wouldn’t escape again. He would always try to remember he’s worthy, and in case he felt like the day before, he would discuss it with the others.

“Look, Hyrule said your body isn’t even at its best, and yet you managed to keep up with 3 empowered lizalfos without the master Sword! And those looked huge and armored!” Wind said.

They walked away, back to the village and the inn, chatting and smiling, with their lanterns all lit on, and a bunch of fireflies following them, attracted to the light.

Maybe the heroes could spend that night enjoying the peace of that village, the sound of water coming from the fountain, a warm dinner, and play their instruments, or maybe they could get the rest they all needed. Either way, they had to spend it carefree.

____________________________

The day after, as they were walking in that forest again in search of other footprints or monsters, Sky noticed a dark figure moving swiftly between the trees in the distance. Wind quickly took his telescope and saw Dink opening a portal. As the heroes rushed there, Wild stated that Sky, other than being the best swordsman ever, also had a sharp eye. They all smiled, someone laughed.

With positivity and optimism, they all got into the portal, ready to chase and fight Dink again.

[disco-elysium-via-polls]

🎵 Instrument of Surrender

5. "There's absolutely *nothing* wrong with tare-collecting. It's my side-thing too." (Proudly hold out the tare bag.)

GASTON MARTIN - "Oh, I didn't mean to imply there's something *wrong* with that," the jolly man says quickly. "I do it too. Everyone does it. It's an excellent side-thing."

RENÉ ARNOUX- "Yes, yes, yes," the carabineer utters angrily. "Can we conclude the topic of my guard booth now?"

INLAND EMPIRE [Easy: Success] - He is not going to become an entrepreneur.

2. "I... saw a picture in there. You were in it. You looked... happy. Who's the girl?"

RENÉ ARNOUX- His features stiffen and he gets a cold look. "She... is nobody. This is none of your concern and I refuse to discuss my private affairs with the RCM."

GASTON MARTIN - "The lady is Jeanne-Marie Beaulieu." Gaston speaks with a soft voice. "And she sure as hell wasn't a nobody."

Task complete: Ask René about the photo

+10 XP

3. "Got it, thanks." (Conclude.)

RENÉ ARNOUX- "Yes, yes. Like I said," he brings it up again, "I would be up *anyway*, so might as well keep an eye out. It keeps my senses sharp."

6. [Composure - Legendary 14] What is it about this old soldier that makes him stand so proud?

-1 Threw the *boule* in the sea. +1 Know René's job-situation.

COMPOSURE [Legendary: Success] - As René turns from you to his partner and back, the medals on his chest rattle and glare. He keeps his spine straight and his ribcage lifted, displaying them proudly.

How many medals are there?

COMPOSURE - Two. The larger one is shaped like a cross, while the smaller medal resembles the sun.

Look at the cross.

Look at the sun.

COMPOSURE - A crowned head in front of two crossed rifles. The medal hangs from a blue striped triangle.

ENCYCLOPEDIA [Medium: Success] - It is the *Croix de Bravoure* -- Cross of Valour. The Cross was the highest battlefield decoration in the Suzerain's armed forces, awarded for exceptional bravery in the line of duty in service of King Frissel the First.

2. Look at the sun.

COMPOSURE - A small blue star inside an orange sun. It has the word *Vaillance* written below.

ENCYCLOPEDIA [Medium: Success] - *The Setting Sun* was a decoration used to distinguish seasoned combat veterans in service of King Frissel the First during the Revolution.

"*Croix de Bravoure* and The Setting Sun." (Point to his chest.) "Did you get them for..."

RENÉ ARNOUX- "For bravery," he interjects.

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] - It's a conflicted topic for the old veteran. There must have been a number of controversial episodes in his service days.

"That's what I was going to say, bravery."

"Not for killing babies or…?"

"Not for raping women or...?"

"For bravery?"

RENÉ ARNOUX- "I'm sure. But I know this uniform's reputation: You were also wondering if I got these for raping women or killing babies."

"No, I really wasn't, I'm just asking."

"So, did you?"

"I don't know the reputation of… *anything*. Don't even recognize the war."

"Sounds controversial. Let's talk about something else."

RENÉ ARNOUX- "Son, we should never forget our past. Lots of mistakes were made back then, but they were also lessons." His voice takes on a tutor-like quality.

"Forgetting those times means the mistakes were for nothing. That all those people died for nothing."

RHETORIC [Trivial: Success] - Whoaa... sounds like you're about to open the gates of conversation -- this man will literally talk your ear off, if you let him wander off to Memory Lane.

"So what *did* you get the medals for?"

"Sounds like there's a story there, but I'd like to talk about something else right now."

RENÉ ARNOUX- "For doing my duty in the heat of battle, for looking my mortality in the eye, when men like Gaston here hid in the bushes and shat themselves..."

GASTON MARTIN - "He saved some *maudit* princeling who foolishly strolled into the front line in his gown of velvet and gold."

"Saved a princeling?"

"Listen, René, I might wanna hear that story later, but right now I have more important things to discuss."

RENÉ ARNOUX- "It was on the first months of the Revolution here in Revachol. Unrest was spreading like wildfire. Marauders had taken most of the Couron and were getting *really* ambitious."

"King Frissel thought he could end it all in one decisive strike." The old carabineer runs his fingers over the larger medal. "Sent his cousin, Drysant, to put an end to the unrest."

"Alas, the young Drysant was all piss and no vinegar, wearing a tunic of purple velvet and cockatoo feathers to battle." He spits. "Even his rifle was *gold-plated*. Shone from five klicks away. Can you imagine the asininity?"

KIM KITSURAGI - "Purple velvet tunic," the lieutenant says thoughtfully. "That isn't exactly *camo*."

RENÉ ARNOUX - "To keep the long and bloody story short, Drysant marched us against the partisans in Couron. And when I say 'marched', I mean made us walk into captured enemy territory single-file, like toy soldiers, while he rode in front on his giant red stallion."

The rebels were smart. They let us come real close before opening fire. Suffice to say, it was carnage."

"Must have been a bloodbath."

"Pretty damn clever indeed."

"Bastards…" (Slowly shake your head.)

RENÉ ARNOUX - "I got shot in the left shoulder and went down. Just a flesh wound, but just as I turned over, the prince fell into the mud next to me. He was missing his lower jaw."

"Then his horse, driven mad by the noise and smell of gunpowder, stepped on my leg and shattered my knee." He pats his right thigh.

VOLITION [Easy: Success] - Hang on to the story -- veterans get sentimental after such *retellings* -- this might yield something useful.

"Okay... then what did you do?"

"Shattered knee… interesting. Actually, can we pick it up later and do questions now?"

RENÉ ARNOUX - "I grabbed my sidearm and shot the beast in the head. Then everything went black."

GASTON MARTIN - "*Capitaine Arnoux -- le fléau des chevaux*!"

RHETORIC [Medium: Success] - The bane of horses.

RENÉ ARNOUX - "When I came to, it was all over," he continues, ignoring his companion. "It was just me and jawless Drysant, gurgling in the blood-soaked mud right next to me."

"The dink had taken numerous flesh wounds and lost a lot of blood, but despite missing his jaw he seemed hesitant to die. Tougher than he looked, that one."

"That's no dink, that's a fighter!"

"I'd give up. Can't imagine living without my jaw." (Touch your jaw.)

"This would never happen to Johnny Law-jaw." (Point to your jaw.) "My jaw is tight."

"I've been through worse."

RENÉ ARNOUX - "He didn't." A shadow of respect crosses his face. "I hoisted the prick on my back and started crawling. Kept going until the 59th Cavalry picked us up."

"Through some miracle we both survived. And the jawless freak convinced Frissel to give me a medal for not leaving him to die in his own blood, piss, and shit."

"He was the commanding officer and I was on duty. Just doing my job. Shouldn't hand out medals for that..." He shakes his head. "Thirteen months later I received 'The Sun'. For distinguished service. It's not worth mentioning."

+5 XP

COMPOSURE [Medium: Success] - You sense he's downplaying it -- he did a lot more than his duty. More than anyone's duty. It's in his spine, in his billowing breast. An untarnished self worth.

"Sounds like you're being modest, René."

"Thanks for the story, René!" (Conclude.)

RENÉ ARNOUX - The old carabineer stands quietly like a statue, his features motionless.

GASTON MARTIN - "What *Monseigneur Modestie* is not telling you is that he crawled over seven kilometres before the cavalrymen found him and Drysant. Two days later that was."

"And that even whilst crawling with a mangled half-dead prince on his back, he still managed to murder three rebels on his way."

COMPOSURE [Medium: Success] - Is that... pride in his voice? It's deep down, but -- maybe even unbeknownst to the man himself -- it's there.

"Hold on, you're just a *little bit* proud of René's heroics, aren't you?"

"Quite impressive. It's men like René who made Revachol great once."

"I'm not impressed. All those heroics and where is he now? No, you gotta play to win. Look after *you* first."

"This doesn't seem like a good moment to express an opinion." (Lean closer.) "I don't wanna risk it."

GASTON MARTIN - "Sorry, officer, but you're reading me all wrong." He chuckles. "I'm a man of peace and these kinds of bloody 'heroics' are only impressive to men like René himself. Certainly not to me."

"How did *you* find the story to be, officer?"

3. "This doesn't seem like a good moment to express an opinion." (Lean closer.) "I don't wanna risk it."

RENÉ ARNOUX - "*Bon dieu*," he mumbles, slowly shaking his head. "You and Gaston must be related. His blood runs yellow too."

GASTON MARTIN - "Maybe, maybe, but also bear in mind, officer..." He points to the sun-shaped medal on René's chest. "They don't hand these out for anyone with a service record."

"Oh no, you have to get shot." He nods eagerly. "Repeatedly. And you need to get your hands bloody too. Really *really* bloody."

RENÉ ARNOUX - "Do not speak of what you know nothing about, poltroon!" He slams the heel of his boot in the ground. "Duty is something you will never understand."

2. "Thanks for the story, René!" (Conclude.)

RENÉ ARNOUX - "Bah!" His gaze wanders over the bay. "There were many such stories in those days. Many such men too. True Revacholians, men with *backbone*."

GASTON MARTIN - "Oh yes, René, yes..." The jolly man nods meekly. "Men were bigger, girls were prettier, and everyone was a *fascha* -- Lord, please bring those days back, if you can!"

RENÉ ARNOUX - "I'm *not* getting into this with you again." He mumbles through clenched teeth and turns to you. "Officer, was there anything else?"

CONCEPTUALIZATION [Easy: Success] - You should try to come up with a heroic story of your own -- impress this old soldier.

As you can see, our chances of passing this red check are *far* too low right now.

7. "Thank you for your time!" [Leave.]

Let's get back to making sure those guys aren't trashing Kim's car.

PISSF****T - "The palm tree livery should be, like, pastel green. Fucking tropic shit..." He gazes dreamily at Lieutenant Kitsuragi's motor carriage.

FUCK THE WORLD - "I can see it, bright as day. Oh, if we were SKULLS right now..."

"Who are you?"

FUCK THE WORLD - "I can tell you who we're not, cop. We're *not* snitches, f****ts, or SKULLS."

PISSF****T - "Which is not to say that the SKULLS are bitches and f****ts. On the contrary..."

FUCK THE WORLD - "The part of this presentation you wanna take home with you, cop-man, is: We're not part of the SKULLS. Yet."

AUTHORITY [Medium: Success] - These *skull* people are more than an authority. They're deities.

"Who are the *SKULLS*?"

"Do you know anything about the murder that took place here?" (Point to the yard.)

"Do you guys know Cindy the SKULL?"

"What's with the jackets?"

"Well, talking with you has definitely been something." [Leave.]

FUCK THE WORLD - "You don't know? What kind of cop are you?"

"I'm so glad you asked!"

"Of course I do, I'm just testing you boys."

"No, I really don't."

PISSF****T - "The question was rhetorical," he replies, raising his open hand. "The SKULLS are *the* most vicious gang of the Besmertnyé."

ENCYCLOPEDIA [Medium: Success] - Besmertnyé or the Besmertie -- the *immortals* -- are West Revacholian crime syndicates.

FUCK THE WORLD - "The nastiest bunch of psychos ever! Jacking carriages and getting into high-speed chases."

PISSF****T - "Possessing an infinite amount of fuck-all swagger, infamous for their non-verbal *modus operandi*."

"Non-verbal?"

Say nothing.

KIM KITSURAGI - "If a SKULL spots you, he will pull out his dagger and stab you without saying a word."

COMPOSURE [Easy: Success] - The lieutenant's voice is as calm as usual -- a testament to the violence and death he's witnessed through the sight of his firearm.

KIM KITSURAGI - "They usually occupy the Burnt-Out Quarter in Jamrock. Or you can find them loitering around their brightly-painted, bottom-lighted vehicles."

FUCK THE WORLD - "Oh, I can't wait to become a SKULL. Bottom-lights are *wretched* aggressive."

2. "Do you know anything about the murder that took place here?" (Point to the yard.)

FUCK THE WORLD - "Murder?"

"A man was hanged in the backyard of the Whirling-in-Rags."

"Never mind, this is useless."

FUCK THE WORLD - "Yeah, sure, we'll gladly tell you everything we know about it." He clears his throat. "It was a man."

PISSF****T - "Also, he was hanged."

"Anything else?"

"Don't fuck around. I am the law."

+1 Lawbringer

PISSF****T - "He was hanged from a tree."

FUCK THE WORLD - "Yeah, I mean... duh."

KIM KITSURAGI - "These punks don't know anything. Let's just move along."

FUCK THE WORLD - "Hey! Stop right there! How does one know anything?"

ENCYCLOPEDIA [Medium: Success] - Ah -- this sounds like epistemology. A field so occupied by thought that it begins to question thought itself.

Level up!

"I know that you don't know shit."

"I'm not going to entertain you with this any longer."

FUCK THE WORLD - "Exactly! How can one know shit? For example: How can one be sure that there truly is a body hanging behind the hostel?"

PISSF****T - "What if it's art... or just a mere spectre?"

"Believe me, I'd know. I *know* spectres." (Rub your temple.)

"That could be the case, yes... a brilliant work of art!"

"It's not. A man is dead and we need answers."

KIM KITSURAGI - The lieutenant raises an eyebrow but does not comment.

3. "Do you guys know Cindy the SKULL?"

PISSF****T - "Oh yeah, Cindy's a right proper SKULL..." The young man's eyes glaze over, his voice filled with longing.

FUCK THE WORLD - "Yeah," the other guy lights up too. "A true artist of the future, just like Arno van Eyck."

PISSF****T - "By the way, if you see Cindy, give her our regards," he adds, returning from whatever void he was just visiting.

EMPATHY [Medium: Success] - Odd. There isn't a hint of hate in them. It's like they're 'Pissf****t' and 'Fuck the World' out of some kind moral obligation.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Trivial: Success] - The lieutenant, on your left, is unusually lenient toward them.

"I see you kids are into anodic dance music?"

"Why aren't there more SKULLS in Martinaise?"

"Your rhetoric is confusing. Are you a part of the SKULLS or not?"

"Enough about this *skullery* then." (Conclude.)

FUCK THE WORLD - "Oh, man, yeah!" he exclaims, then stops himself, processing the rest of your question. "We're not fucking kids, man!"

PISSF****T - "Be wary of the abyss," his blond friend adds ominously and points to his temple.

"Why?"

KIM KITSURAGI - "Probably because of how *non-verbal* their mode of operation is going to be," the lieutenant answers for the two rebels. "It's a threat."

"A threat? Good. I like those."

"Don't fuck with me, boys. I'm one of the bad cops."

"I just wanted to talk about music and now there's a conflict all of the sudden... it's too much." (Nervously shake your head.)

PISSF****T - "Uh... that's right," the young man says, looking unsure of himself. "You... you should back off and let silence rule supreme."

AUTHORITY [Easy: Success] - What is wrong with you? Now you're just empowering these punks.

KIM KITSURAGI - "This is ridiculous." The lieutenant gives you an irritated glance. "Boys, do you know why the gang is called SKULLS?"

PISSF****T - "Yeah -- the skull symbolizes the embrace of death and nothingness, present in all of us, the vehicle of our future operations. Death and nothingness."

KIM KITSURAGI - "They're called SKULLS because when you're shot dead in the middle of the street, the skull is the only part the stray dogs won't eat."

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Trivial: Success] - Just trust me and follow my lead.

"Kim, maybe you shouldn't scare them like that?"

"So, boys, wanna feed the dogs?"

PISSF****T - No reply. The blond rebel scratches his chin, deliberately not focusing his gaze on anything. He looks very uncomfortable.

FUCK THE WORLD - The other one shuffles uncomfortably, nevertheless continuing to steal glances at the lieutenant's motor carriage.

"Why aren't there more SKULLS in Martinaise?"

KIM KITSURAGI - "The Union does their share of policing in Martinaise, at least where gangs are concerned," the lieutenant replies instead. "That's why there isn't much organized crime around here."

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Easy: Success] - Apart from the Union themselves of course.

FUCK THE WORLD - "Don't you worry about that. We're gonna make up for the deficit."

PISSF****T - "Yeah we are!" The young men exchange approving nods.

2. "Your rhetoric is confusing. Are you a part of the SKULLS or not?"

PISSF****T- "We're not *franchised* SKULLS -- well, not yet. Once we get our name out there, we'll have a chance to join them."

"And what makes you think that the organization would accept you?"

"I see."

PISSF****T- "Because we can be just as psycho and vicious. You'll see."

FUCK THE WORLD - "But in a non-threatening and definitely legal way," the other one quickly adds and whispers something to his friend.

PERCEPTION (HEARING) [Medium: Success] - "We'll fuck the system from the inside later, just be cool now. The damage will be tenfold."

PISSF****T- "Right on, Fuck," the blond agrees and provocatively spits on the pavement. "So what's happening now?"

2. "Enough about this *skullery* then." (Conclude.)

PISSF****T- "Mhm." He throws a longing glance at the Kineema.

3. "What's with the jackets?"

PISSF****T- "What about them?"

(Turn to the blond youth.) "Why does your jacket have 'PISSF****T' written on it?"

(Turn to the dark-haired youth.) "Why do you have 'FUCK THE WORLD' written on your jacket?"

"Actually -- forget about it."

PISSF****T- "Well, first off, it's a statement and not *necessarily* something that characterizes me as a person, even though the statement has character. And I *do* like piss..."

"The word PISSF****T epitomizes the struggle taking place in the world, things being defined as they seem, not as they are. And -- I guess -- it's also about communal spirit, the future, and *truly* appreciating our differences."

"Also, you've got to admit, it catches the eye. And since the grand piper is slowly but steadily moving towards basing the economy on it -- attention -- it is imperative that the medium itself convey the message."

"Ee... what?"

"Makes sense."

PISSF****T- "What I mean by this is -- we are *all* Pissf****ts. And that the world is inherently meaningless."

INLAND EMPIRE [Heroic: Success] - That much is true.

ENCYCLOPEDIA [Medium: Success]- It seems that the young man has a certain expertise in at least one field, even if it's rather narrow.

2. (Turn to the dark-haired youth.) "Why do you have 'FUCK THE WORLD' written on your jacket?"

FUCK THE WORLD - "I can answer that. Many men keep searching for *the one*. For so-called true love, which is actually just obsession masquerading as kinship. The thrill of the chase, the hollowness that fills your chest cavity after catching it."

DRAMA [Medium: Success] - I'm wondering if the poetics come with the jacket or are they derived from something else entirely?

FUCK THE WORLD - "To catch a fish you need to hurl the lure many times, and even then it isn't certain that you'll get anything. If you blow up the lake, though..."

"Blow it up!"

"That is a terrible metaphor."

FUCK THE WORLD - "...you get more fish in a shorter time. And, for time is of the essence and fleeting ever so quickly, one must think of a way to fuck the whole world -- and not get caught up in fucking some *one*."

"Because when one fucks everything, he fucks nothing. And that, to me, feels glorious -- sticking your dick into the void."

SAVOIR FAIRE [Trivial: Success] - Is it a *coincidence* that here we have two bad-ass jackets and two bad-ass cops?

"Hey, Kim…" (Lower your voice.)

Definitely a coincidence.

KIM KITSURAGI - "Yes?"

"Do you think it's a coincidence?"

"What do you think about their jackets?"

KIM KITSURAGI - "Leather jackets adorned with immature writing? The 'ideology' they convey helps the boys justify poor choices in life and fashion." The lieutenant shrugs. "I'm not a fan."

"Why are you always so patronizing when cool *possibilities* cross our path?"

"Sure, the jackets are scaring you. That's cool."

KIM KITSURAGI - "What are you implying?" The lieutenant looks confused.

"Which one would *you* wear?"

"You know what I'm implying."

"We should get these jackets."

KIM KITSURAGI - "For what?"

"What do people do with jackets? They wear them."

KIM KITSURAGI - "The concept of getting dressed *is* familiar to me, but wearing jackets like these isn't appropriate for an RCM officer. Unless he's *deep* undercover," he adds.

"But in theory, Kim, if we were to confiscate these jackets, which one would *you* wear?"

"You're right of course. Never mind then."

KIM KITSURAGI - "Neither."

"C'mon Kim, it's just a mental exercise!"

KIM KITSURAGI - "Fine, if only to end this discussion: Theoretically, if I were a juvenile delinquent -- if I were to already be down that path -- I think 'PISSF****T' is the stronger of the two statements."

+5 XP

"No way! If anything, I'm the *PISSF****T* in this scenario."

"That works, I feel more like a 'FUCK THE WORLD' kind of a guy."

KIM KITSURAGI - "Seems about right," the lieutenant remarks. "Especially considering your... heroic exit attempts."

CONCEPTUALIZATION [Medium: Success] - That's an origin story for a dynamic duo right there.

PISSF****T- "So are we done here or...?" one of the jacket owners asks impatiently. "You don't need us around for your secret whisper party, do you?"

5. [Half Light - Legendary 14] Ask for the jackets for yourself and the lieutenant.

+1 Demonstrated authority. +1 Kim showed good tactics. +2 They're just off-brand SKULLS.

HALF LIGHT [Legendary: Success] - No, no, no! Don't *ask* anything. Be subtle and scary. The boys dream about being SKULLS... use that!

Wait -- how?

"Boys, with *those* jackets, you're gonna be the SKULL-kings in no time!"

HALF LIGHT - Suggest they're massive SKULLS. C'mon!

"Boys, with *those* jackets, you're gonna be the SKULL-kings in no time!"

FUCK THE WORLD - "What... no!" He quickly looks around. "SKULLS don't have kings," he pauses. "I think, and we're not even *in* yet..."

PISSF****T - "Yeah, man, keep your voice down. SKULLS don't take it lightly, when folks pretend to be them. We're not even *prospects* yet."

(Raise your voice.) "Not even prospects and already aspiring to be kings?"

KIM KITSURAGI - "Wow, you boys are ambitious," the lieutenant's voice rings over the plaza. "Only *prospects* and already planning a coup in the SKULLS? You're destined to go far!"

HALF LIGHT - He gets it. Passive-aggressive flattery.

FUCK THE WORLD - "Shut the fuck up," the youth presses through his clenched teeth, there's panic in his eyes. "Are you trying to get us killed?"

HALF LIGHT - Now bring it to the jackets and.... yes, start *shouting*!

"YES, WE WANNA BE COOL KILLER SKULLS TOO, LIKE YOU GUYS, BUT WE DON'T HAVE SKULL-JACKETS!!!"

"Wow. I didn't realize it's that serious. Let's forget about this." (Let it go.)

PISSF****T - "Please be quiet!" Not much is left of the nihilistic rebel at this point. The young man before you is scared out of his mind. "What... WHAT do you want?!! T-t-the jackets?"

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] - You got it. No need for cruelty.

"SKULL KING! MAKE SHRUNKEN HEADS OUT OF US!"

"You OFFER us your jackets like that? It'd be impolite to refuse." (Reach out your hand.)

(Lower your voice.) "Yes -- the jackets."

FUCK THE WORLD - "Oh man..." His shoulders slump under the weight of sadness. "Okay," he says finally. "I get it. SKULLS don't really wear slogans anyway, this was stupid."

PISSF****T - "Fuck," the other one sighs deeply.

Item gained: Leather Jacket "Pissf****t"

Item gained: Leather Jacket "Fuck the World"

+5 XP

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Trivial: Success] - The lieutenant watches the boys take their jackets off -- with mild amusement.

(Turn to Kim.) "Since you said you're more of a 'Pissf****t' kinda guy, I'll take the other one."

(Turn to Kim.) "I know you said you're more of a 'Pissf****t' kinda guy, but I think I should have it for myself."

KIM KITSURAGI - "I'm absolutely okay with not having either one, thank you."

"Why not? They're a pair. We could really raise hell. Go undercover. Hard."

"But don't you want to express your individuality?"

KIM KITSURAGI - "This case doesn't requires us to go undercover. Or raise hell... In fact I don't think the jackets will be useful at all. I just wanted *them* to not have them anymore."

PISSF****T - "Cold-hearted cop..."

"Well, whatever. I'll take both of them then."

"Still -- it's good to know we have a pair. In case the need arises."

KIM KITSURAGI - "The need will not arise."

CONCEPTUALIZATION [Easy: Success] - Pity. The jackets are meant to complete each other. If a man were standing alone on a street corner with 'PISSF****T' written on his back, it'd just be an individual that has taken a liking to urine. And 'FUCK THE WORLD' all on its own is, frankly, generic.

FUCK THE WORLD - "I don't know, Eric. It's cold out..." The dark-haired young man just stands there, defeated. The wind blows.

PISSF****T - "Yeah," the blond man replies. "Let's get out of here. The cops fucked us."

LEATHER JACKET "PISSF****T"

+1 Drama: No fucks given -1 Authority: Wait, I'm a detective?

A leather jacket that quite recently belonged to a young man who possessed some intimate knowledge on the human condition. It has his *nom de guerre* written on the back. It's quite a statement.

LEATHER JACKET "FUCK THE WORLD"

+1 Half Light: Darkening world -1 Rhetoric: Inelegant statement

A leather jacket that quite recently belonged to a hoodlum who understood love for what it really is. It has the hoodlum's *nom de guerre* written on the back. It's quite a statement.

[randomfoggytiger]

😎

Thanks for dropping in! :DDDDD

The below might seem like I'm gassing you up or being overly sugary and sweet; but I cannot underestimate how much I mean every single word. Your fics were in my first round of xfiles fics ever; and they were cemented into my cracks before I ever got adventurous enough to feed the addiction and read 800+ authors.

This'll be long, so I included a cut.

(**Note**:Editing and proofreading my paragraphs? What is that?)

I begin, again, after 20 minutes of thorough combing

I spent 15-20 minutes grabbing link after link after link because... quite simply, your fics are grafted into my brain because of how many rereads I've done-- I can't separate them from each other, I can't pick favorites, I can't. I had to go by my tip top, cannot-pass-by-without-reading fics:

Whispered Words (Tumblr): Everything about this is perfection. Every time I read someone else's cancer fic, I immediately think of this one (and hunt it down for a reread.) Scully's symptoms, how and when Mulder notices; the blend of sickfic and angst and fluff together, no parts outrivaling the other... it's, again, perfection.

A New Day Has Come: It's such a cornerstone of my earliest cancer fics that this is how I always expect Mulder to react in other fics I read-- it's automatic programming at this point.

Every. Single. IVF fic you've written. I kid you not. To name a few (because it's not fun to just read "I liked it, lol" without some examples):  Name Calling/Archive is the pinnacle post IVF failure: the best, ohmyword. Unnamed post IVF treatment fic and Five Minutes - Chapter 1 are seared into my brain as a part one and two; but if it's a sheer numbers game? Five Minutes - Chapter 2 wins out. It's just... how do you hold a moonbeam in your hand, y'know? How can I describe something that IS me? I refer you to Scully's Memento Mori speech-- she says it more eloquently than I do. ;))))

Every. Single. AU Requiem fic and S8 fic and S9 fic and S11 fam fic. You do loving relationships so well: they talk, they breathe, they exist like real people. I treasure the S8 fics you wrote from my prompts and reread them frequently--though I forgot to label the second and need to find that link hmmmmmm. This is exactly how it appears in my docs: Here's a prompt (if you want): Scully goes into... (tumblr.com) THIS WAS MY PROMPT Ao3 By Your Side Is Where I Belong - Baroness_Blixen - The X-Files [Archive of Our Own] LOVE THIS

And for nonspecific genre fics that I adore and cannot live without:

#58 Mulder to Scully thanks! Ao3 Prompts & Drabbles - Chapter 3 - [Archive of Our Own] Scully gets hit in the head with a baseball bat and you nailed every. single. aspect of this fic and I can't read it enough (going to read it again right after this.)

Since you were looking for an angsty prompt for... (tumblr.com) Ao3 We Will Find Our Way Home - [Archive] Scully and Mulder on the ice and Scully makes Mulder go alone to the Snocat? YES PLEASE.

 I hope your muse comes back. I know she will soon!... Ao3 Things You Forget - Chapter 1  Mulder has amnesia and he and Scully have dinner with her mother and Bill while he remembers-- iconic.

A realization

...I'm staring at 20+ pages of your fic links (and 84 specifically marked ones that have LOVE THIS in bold and caps) and thinking that there is no way I can fit all of this into this ask. XDDDD

I'll close this by thinking of random moments in your fics that twirl around and around in my brain and put them down here:

Mulder waking Scully up by sneezing in her hair in Rain King.

Mulder and Scully crying after her recovery in Redux II.

Scully's annoyance and Mulder's complete stillness in the airport while waiting for their luggage in Five Minutes Chapter 2.

The hilarious way you wrote Mulder and Scully and Krycek and Doggett and Reyes in an Essence AU (Will is born in the car while they drive away from the FBI.)

Scully's head being squeezed like an orange in the baseball bat attack fic, and Mulder's irate panic from afar ("HE HIT HER")

Mulder's tie got stuck in a copier and Scully has to help him out (and Skinner doesn't even want to know.)

Maggie's not a fool when she catches Mulder and Scully a day or two after Chimera.

Scully gasses in the car and Mulder evens the playing field.

Mulder having amnesia after Millennium and only remembering his partnership with Diana (for a couple hours.)

Mulder delicately taking and holding and smiling over his scratchy list of baby names.

Scully feeling woozy in Three Words and Mulder helping her sit down.

Mulder panicking after Lamaze in Alone.

S8 Scully including Mulder in her late night snack and waltz session, as they discuss her neighbor's recently deceased husband.

Mulder swallowing the suddenly-too-sweet cake at Scully's baby shower (AU Essence~)

Mulder swapping places with Reyes in Essence-- it's he and Scully on the road, just like always.

Post Existence Mulder papa bear with little Will.

Revival baby girl being born on Mulder or Scully's birthdays (and the unique ways you changed the details of both versions.)

Mulder and baby Will showing up for Scully's "take your kid to work day" (and him rubbing Will in Colton's face, my word.)

(I'm not kidding when I mean every. single. one. of your IVF and S8 and family fics, so I'm not even going to BEGIN.)

All of your Millennium fics. All. But particularly the one where Scully is woken up by a grumpy Mulder who felt betrayed that she'd left and drove over, despite his injured arm, before calling her and asking for permission.

Mulder sobbing and holding Scully after the other agents tricked him into thinking she'd died in a car accident.

Diana locks Mulder and Scully up in the One Son fort for the night; and Scully's hurt and Mulder's hurt and their reconciliation and re-understanding is one of the fics I turn to when I need to sleep but also need a story to focus on. Makes my brain go wild.

TFWID Mulder having nightmares of his past lives with Scully. Another one of those stories that sets my brain on fire.

Revival Mulder's psychic powers comes back and he tells Scully in the restaurant (part I) and later senses their daughter's heartbeat (part II.)

An ending

And while I could go on and on and on, there's already a lot I put down. XDDDD Maybe I'll make a fic list with my top 85? fics that cannot be passed up-- although, I don't know if Tumblr will allow me that enough word space to fit them all in. Hmmmm.

Anyway, thanks for dropping in! :DDDDD And hope this was a good enough answer~. ;))))

[elysian-noctuary]

I diagnose you with hot

Inumaki, Junpei

Person on a train reading a book hot

you're totally their type. well, you're not. but that's what the passenger across from you is thinking as you sit there, completely oblivious. you're mysterious, and serene, and look so natural sitting there on the train they think your feet might be bolted to the floor the way the chairs and safety rails are. you're in your own world, you're reading something with an intriguing title, and without even knowing it passengers are praying for some reason that you'll look up and ask for their number. you don't, of course. and they don't ask for yours, either. how could they disturb such a peaceful moment? but despite the fact that nothing was said, they managed to fall in love with you for 15 minutes. for the rest of the day they think about what your voice might've sounded like, what your interests might've been, how you might've smiled at them like they were your whole world if they'd managed to make you feel that way. you have that effect on people, in case you didn't know.

i dont have edited icons for her yet rip

Adrian, Masoko

friend you have a weird rivalry with hot

you are always fighting to show you're better. always seeing who can run faster, talk louder, be stronger. you both whirl to face eachother after every test, showing off the bright red numbers at the top of the page. when you beat them by a couple points, the "jokingly" smug look on your face makes them huff and turn away, give you a friendly punch to the shoulder that might leave a bruise. when you lose 90 to their 96, the bitter spark of jealousy in the pit of your stomach reminds you to study harder. you'll best them next time. sometimes this rivalry gets messy though, and for some reason you both tend to crush on the same person, hurting eachother to compete for their affection. though you always end up forgetting the crushes, and making up. whats some random fling compared to your friendship anyway?

Ino

rockstar hot

you're wanted. by crowds of people. a heart-throb, who people hang posters of in their room and tell their friends is "so dreamy." you may not even be a celebrity, you could just be the star of your school. but what you and rockstars have in common is that your entire routine is very well-rehearsed, and you know exactly the right words, the right looks, to draw people's attention. you're a performance, you're an act, a hyperbolized version of a human being that others can get lost in. it's so easy for people to crush on you because they don't realize they don't know anything about you. you're an archetype, a character for others to project onto, and damn if it isn't a fun role to play.

Haibara

drunk girl in the bathroom hot

you're both wasted, she just somehow does it so much better. you're crying, about something your stupid ex did or said. and suddenly she appears, looking like an angel aside from the slight sway in her step. she's helping you our of your slump on the floor when you grow pale and catastrophy strikes. you're the most disgusting you've ever been, and still, this stranger holds your hair and rubs soothing circles in your back. gives you a breath mint and sits you back against the wall, asking what happened. you tell her, and her glittery, perfectly made face turns sour. with her heels in hand, she loops your arm around her shoulders so she can help you walk to an uber she called for you. your ex says something snarky to you in passing on the way out, and for her it's the final straw. she whirls around, fire in her eyes and a set in her brow and she slaps him hard across the face. calls him a jerk or a dick or something like that, you can't remember, you were busy smiling at the stunned look on his face as she drags you both outside. before you get home, she gives you a hug and kind words in a bubbling voice and you're thankful for her. thankful there are people out there who look out for people like you, who stand up for people even when they might have trouble standing themselves.

[hinatastinygiant]

9 | Chartreuse

Pairing: Tokyo Revengers x Fem!Reader

Wasteland Masterlist

Following your shot and the woman falling to the asphalt beneath her, you see two familiar-looking men standing before you and watching the scene unfold.

“Y/N?” one of them calls out to you. Less than a moment later, you rush toward them and throw your arms around them both.

“What the hell are you guys doing here?!” you ask as you hold them both tight.

“Well we were chasing our prey but it looks like you killed ‘em for us,” the man with a scar on either side of his lips tells you when you pull away. He then quickly grabs onto your left wrist and exposes the number written on your wrist.

“Three,” he says aloud before looking up at you through his white eyelashes. “How many times did you shoot her?”

“I shot the gun twice. I dunno if it actually hit her both times or not. It all happened so fast…”

The two men look at each other and the man with white hair lets you out of your grasp.

“Can we help you guys?” Draken calls out as he and Baji approach the three of you standing in the street.

“There’s no problem, is there?” Baji hums.

“Well, I guess that depends,” your old friend continues, “Are you going to make there be a problem?”

“Draken, I know these guys. It’s okay. Sanzu and Kakucho both used to work with me at the club that you used to go to, Baji,” you intervene, trying not to choose a side. “Look, Sanzu, we’re just trying to figure out what’s going on around here.”

“As are we,” Kakucho nods. “But I think we might have some of it figured out.”

“Seriously?!” Sanzu scoffs as he elbows Kakucho. “We don’t know these two assholes.”

“What did you just call-“

“They just saved my life,” you interrupt before either Draken or Baji erupts. “Just like you did once, Sanzu.”

Sanzu scoffs and rolls his eyes until he finally pauses and sees the sincerity in your eyes. “Alright, fine. But let’s go somewhere a bit more private first.”

“Deal,” you nod. “Lead the way.”

Together, the five of you walk a little ways down the street and into a nearby coffee shop. After you all enter, Sanzu locks the door behind himself.

“Stay close,” Draken whispers as he watches Sanzu. “They were out hunting, don’t forget. We’re in a different world now.”

“Don’t worry, I know,” you reply back just as quietly, “I was just thinking the same.”

“So, Y/N,” Sanzu smiles as he pats the top of your head, “How’re you holdin’ up?”

“What do you mean?” you smile politely, not wanting to be the first one to give out any information.

“I mean this place is pretty wild and you look calm, that’s all,” he shrugs.

“Hm, I’m doing fine,” you then respond as he starts to walk behind the counter of the coffee shop. “And you?”

“Great,” he hums as though you weren’t living in the middle of an apocalypse. “You guys want any coffee?”

“No,” Draken and Baji both shake their head.

“I’m good,” Kakucho shrugs.

“Y/N?” he then smiles at you.

“Fine,” you sigh, still acting as though you’ve lowered your guard. You then sit down at the counter across from Sanzu and wait for him to make your drink.

While he does, Draken takes the seat on your left, Kakucho on your right. Baji then stands behind you and Draken, forming a triangle of support in case anything bad starts up.

“Care to share what you know now?” Baji then asks.

“You mean about the numbers?” Sanzu hums. “Hey, Y/N, you want your drink the same way I used to get it for you back in the day?”

“Cut the shit, Sanzu. What do you know about the numbers,” you scoff.

“So touchy,” he clicks his tongue as he puts his elbows on the counter and leans toward you. “Well, fine, I didn’t know you were in such a rush. Kakucho and I believe there’s some kind of pattern to the murders we need to commit to stay alive.”

“What do you mean? Different points for different people?” Draken asks calmly.

“No,” Draken shrugs, “but maybe different points for how you commit the act.”

Your eyes widen as you watch Sanzu smirk. “Is that why you asked me how many times I shot that lady? I got two points ‘cause I shot her twice?”

Sanzu nods as he extends his left arm out to you, showing the number eight on his wrist. Immediately, your blood runs cold when you see it.

“Pretty sure if you shoot someone more than once, you get two days,” Sanzu explains. “And we all started with two unless we killed someone before we came here…”

“So then you started with three,” you clarify.

“I started with five,” he replies as though what he’s saying doesn’t have anything to do with taking another person’s life. “But, you know, I lost one overnight.”

“And then you killed three people?” Baji asks with white knuckles.

“No, I got into a fight this morning and ended up stabbing some asshole five times. That gave me two points. After that, Kakucho and I started chasing randoms and I got someone twice. That’s how I got to eight,” he continues.

“We were gonna kill that couple, too, but you interrupted that,” Kakucho scoffs.

“I’m sorry but, how can you two act like this is fucking normal? Actually, I’m not fucking sorry for saying that. What the actual hell is wrong with you two?”

“He’s right,” Draken agrees as he stands onto his feet. “I think we’re done here. It’s best we leave before there’s any trouble.”

“What trouble?” Kakucho scoffs. “We’re just talking.”

“Then you shouldn’t have a problem with us leaving,” Baji replies. “Unless there’s a reason why you locked us in here.”

“Maybe we just wanted to confess our sins to you, father,” Sanzu smirks.

“Just another minute,” you try to compromise. “I want to know what we’re getting ourselves into.”

Baji shakes his head “Y/N, I don’t think-“

“Please,” you interrupt by grabbing onto his wrist before he walks off. “Just one more minute.”

Wasteland Masterlist