#relativity falls ship challenge

[brotherwtf]

Mer AU Headcanons 2/2

Gale gets the pirate ship Bucky is on to a a dangerous area, where it eventually sinks. However, despite himself, Gale decides to save Bucky because he’s intrigued by him and he feels some gratitude for how Bucky protected him earlier.

Bucky has a head injury from the wreck and he’s unconscious, but Gale manages to drag him to a rocky area where he can lay him out on a rock in relative safety. He takes back his jewelry and waits for sunrise.

When Bucky wakes up, he thinks he’s in heaven or just hallucinating, because he opens his eyes to a dazzling morning and a beautiful (naked) man sunning a few rocks away from him. And then it all comes back - the merman, the chase, the shipwreck. He’s scared, but he tries not to show it.

Naturally, it doesn't take long before he starts talking to Gale. He asks him why he saved Bucky and if he intends to eat him. Gale tells him he just wanted his jewely back (lie) and that he hasn’t decided yet if he wants to eat Bucky (mers don’t eat humans).

While they wait for Gale to regain some of his energy and decide what's next, Bucky talks to him nonstop. Although Gale doesn’t like humans at all, Bucky's yapping gets through his walls. See, Gale has been quite lonely lately, ever since his best friend (Marge) moved in with her mate, and while he does have a pet octopus, he realizes he missed talking. So, eventually, he starts participating in the conversation.

At first, he intends to leave Bucky where he is, but Bucky tells him he might die if he's just left out there, he’s not sure he can make it to the shore and then fend for himself. So, after some hesitation, Gale decides to take him home to his place.

Gale lives in a grotto that's extremely difficult to access from the cliff side, but can be accessed underwater. His home has a large underwater structure and a smaller, cozy grotto part. It’s tricky, but he manages to get Bucky inside the grotto.

He tends to his own and Bucky's wounds, then throws a whole fish at Bucky, calling it breakfast. Merpeople usually eat things raw, but they do have their own dishes (think Hawaii poke). But when Bucky tells him that he can’t (won’t) eat raw fish and explains to him what roasting is, Gale begins to realize that taking care of him will be more challenging than he thought.

Bonus hc:

Marge is distrustful of John and calls him Gale's human pet for a while.

Marge's mate is Crank, who's much friendlier with humans and has had some contact with them in the past. He gives Gale useful advice.

Gale likes to sleep in his "bed" in the shallow waters of his grotto, where he feels safe and where the gently sloshing waves rock him to sleep. John thinks it's really cute.

I would love to know your thoughts if this inspires anything 🩷

part two as promised people

Gale uses his siren ways to lure the ship as he normally would, and the ship follows him because he's the treasure they lost, only to fall victim to the same trick as the first time, and Gale ends up looking through the wreckage for John, partially hoping he's still alive and he doesn't quite know why yet

he finds John's body strewn across a rocky outpost, unconscious but alive, and Gale drags him beneath the water to his little cove where he lives, waiting anxiously for John to wake up so he can thank him or call him an idiot or something

but when John wakes up his eyes are bleary and they widen when they see Gale, reaching out to him in awe

"are you an angel?" John asks and Gale coughs a little bit

"I ain't no angel," Gale mutters and John just shakes his head

"sure look like an angel to me," John says

"you need to rest, you're still injured," Gale says, and hopes it's the end of it

but it's not, John just sits up and starts striking up a conversation with him, gesticulating with his hands to make a point, dragging Gale into the conversation even when he doesn't want to be

and Gale hates to admit that he doesn't mind talking to John, doesn't hate the constant conversation that John feels he needs, he's been so lonely recently and it's nice to have someone else with him, even if he's a little odd

Gale nurses John back to health, forcing him to eat raw fish or make a fire if he hates it so much, glares at John when he complains and blossoms under his wanting gaze, hey maybe his scales even flush pink when he's embarrassed and John just bites his lip, knows he has an effect on him

one day after Gale swims out to get more food for them, John's waiting at the edge of the water when he gets back, leaning over and swirling his hand in the pearlescent ripples, smiling down at Gale when he pops his head up

"it really is beautiful, isn't it?" John whispers, leaning on his elbow and peering deep into Gale's eyes

Gale can feel his cheeks get hot and he just nods

"yeah, the water really is beautiful in here," Gale mutters and can feel the low rumble of John's chuckle

"that's not what I meant," John says and reaches forward, threading a hand in Gale's soaking hair and bringing him in for a salty kiss, leaning halfway over the edge of the rock and teetering dangerously close into falling into the water

and damn, the choirs of angels sing because John tastes delicious, tastes so good and hot and it's everything Gale didn't know he needed, and of course being the asshat he is he grabs John by his shoulders and pulls him into the water, laughing into John's lips when he gasps because of the cold :))

so so sweetness and I absolutely love Marge being so over Gale's human friend, maybe she visits them sometimes and John can't help but flirt, "damn is the job requirement for mermaids god like beauty?" and Marge just splashes John in the face before promptly leaving, but Gale finds it cute and endearing

omg again all of your hcs are absolutely perfect these are just some added on thoughts, am definitely gonna need to add a new tag to my master post for this au

[bragganhyl]

If you're still doing prompts, 'show me how much you missed me' for Aloth and Watcher?

Thanks, Anon, sorry for literally taking forever I... *makes idk noises*

But anyway, here is a thing about Aloth getting head.

Word count: a little over 3.3k, warning for descriptions of sexual acts below the cut

Despite her best efforts, Gaura’s footsteps were heavy, and the clanking of her greaves was loud as she walked aboard her ship. She arrived late at night, only a few of her crew were still up to greet her. It has been four days since she and her companions ventured into a desert valley, trying to retrieve an artifact for the Surviving Face of Toamowhai, as a means to take on their challenges in the Crucible. The journey, however, was grueling. Harrowing, even. Only the Watcher made it out of the valley unscathed. Edér and Rekke recovered relatively quickly, and rejoined Gaura after some rest in the Temple of Toamowhai. Konstanten and Aloth, on the other hand, suffered more severe injuries. She sent them back to the Defiant and placed them under Xoti’s and Eld Engrim’s care. It was time to see how they have been faring – and to ask for forgiveness.

When Konstanten crushed his hands, neither he nor the Watcher could call on the ether through their chanting. Gaura patched him up as best she could and he followed along, with the rest of the team aiding him whenever the need arose. Luckily, the desert gave them no trouble, until late in the evening, when the group sought refuge in a cave. The Watcher’s flaming hair was the main source of light in there. Aloth followed her closely, feeling safe in her presence.

Only to fall and injure his head regardless.

Gaura’s stomach formed a knot as she reminisced – the way he could barely string a complete sentence together, his paleness, the way her light suddenly became too bright for him to look at. Then the wizard lost consciousness. And Gaura was powerless to help him. So she took the course of action that promised the greatest chance for the wizard’s survival: she left. She left and she could only hope her instincts were correct. She left and hoped that Konstanten could guide him back to the Crucible safely, if they were not. Once she arrived there with her remaining, battered companions – along with the ruby pendant that served as a lure and a guiding beacon in the valley – she took it upon herself to lead Aloth and Konstanten back to the ship. Even with the rest he took, and the chants that Konstanten could once again sing for both of them, the wizard’s walk betrayed his dizziness. The Watcher didn’t talk to him or Konstanten during the trek back to the Defiant, she busied herself singing healing chants to them as they walked, harmonizing with the dwarf. When they parted ways, Aloth took her hand, and held it tight as he left a tight-lipped kiss upon it. She didn’t feel it through the gauntlet. But she did feel the wizard’s fear in his grasp.

As she made her way below deck, Gaura could feel the flames on her back lapping against her armor vehemently. She took a deep breath. The knot in her belly loosened somewhat but it only left a bitter taste in her mouth. And her footsteps were still too loud for her liking. Her pets in the menagerie stirred, she heard them before she saw them. And then as she took a peek towards the bunks of her crew, a familiar face looked back at her from the other end of the ship.

Aloth was reading by the light of a candle when he glimpsed the Watcher. A warm and excited smile spread on his face as he sprung from his bunk. He eagerly rushed towards his lover before the soft snoring of the rest of the crew reached his ears and he remembered that they weren’t alone. He stopped for a moment, his eyes fixed on the sleeping crew shrouded in darkness. Then he turned his attention to himself, to his trousers and undershirt that he quickly smoothed down before he looked at Gaura again. There was an indescribable sense of tenderness in the look he gave her, that sent flutters down the Watcher’s fiery hair and a shiver down her spine. Guilt grasped her throat as she recalled leaving the cave but she merely swallowed and flashed a strained smile at him. But her throat grew only tighter once Aloth started moving again, quietly like a shadow, struggling to contain his joy.

‘Gaura,’ he whispered when he got within arms reach of her. He hesitated, seemingly unable to decide how he wanted to greet her properly. His relief was palpable, however, even in his silence, even as he remained motionless, only letting his gaze wander along her features, cherishing every last detail of her face.

The Watcher let out a quiet sigh, easing the suffocating tension within her. The wizard approached her without any apparent dizziness, and he could look at her directly even up close. That was a good first sign.

‘How are you feeling?’ She asked, just about loud enough that she wasn’t merely mouthing the words.

‘A lot better now that I see you unharmed,’ he cautiously reached forward and lightly cupped Gaura’s face. For a moment, his hand just lingered there, gently warming the Watcher’s cheek. Then she felt a single caress of the wizard’s thumb and Gaura let out a staggered, heavy breath. She closed her eyes as guilt and relief battled within her, blindly turning towards the hand on her face, planting one rushed, sloppy kiss on Aloth’s palm after the other.

‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered between kisses, swallowing the urge to cry with each word. ‘I’m so very sorry.’

‘As am I.’

Gaura’s eyes snapped open hearing that. The joy that was streaming off of the wizard was now replaced by a familiar sense of sorrow. She blinked at him, perplexed. He let his hand drop off her and his gaze followed it. He took a deep breath as the Watcher weaved her fingers into his.

‘Let’s continue this in my cabin,’ she suggested and Aloth gave her a few quick, eager nods.

She guided him to the seclusion of the captain’s cabin, and only let go of his hand once the door behind them was closed. Aloth stayed by the entrance, his focus was on the Watcher’s face, waiting for a word from her. Gaura, however, closed the distance between them, pinning Aloth against the wood behind him. It took her every ounce of restraint within her to kiss him as gently as she did, to fight the urge to nip at his delicate lip, to resist bruising him with all the things she was feeling for him in that moment and in the last few days. The wizard quietly moaned in her mouth. His hands found her hips and pulled her close, he arched himself towards her as his breathing grew labored with his need for her.

‘I’m sorry for leaving you behind,’ Gaura pulled away and offered her hands to Aloth, who quickly dragged her gauntlets off them. The Watcher kissed him again, lightly, apologetically, soothingly. She let her hands roam his chest, her self-discipline melting away with each long caress along his sides. Eventually she slid them under his shirt, and softly hummed into their kiss when she felt his skin warm against her palm. ‘I should’ve taken better care of you,’ she spoke against his lips, as her fingers dug into his chest and stole his breath away.

‘I should have been more careful as well,’ Aloth pulled away reluctantly to undo the straps on Gaura’s pauldrons. His fingers worked swiftly and efficiently even as his desires were clearly written on his face. He faltered as the second pauldron dropped to the ground, however, his eyes reflecting nothing but guilt for a brief moment before he closed them.‘I couldn’t bear the thought of you alone in that arena… if you got hurt and I wasn’t there when you needed me…’ he shook his head, trying to chase away the guilt rising in him.

The Watcher chuckled softly but mirthlessly. ‘I always need you, my valiant arcane knight,’ she left a kiss on Aloth’s scarred forehead, another on his cheek, another on his closed eye, ‘but I had things covered. I am here now, and I’m alright.’

The wizard looked at her once more. He smiled at her faintly as he reached for her hand through the fabric of his shirt and guided it to his heart. It was beating strong and healthy. It was beating fast for her.

‘I am here, and I am alright as well.’

Gaura let out a soft laugh that was shakier than she would have liked. Solace was finally setting in within her. She allowed her head to rest against Aloth’s, while he continued removing bits and pieces of her armor blindly. Soon, only Gaura’s legs were covered in metal still, and the wizard’s fingers were tracing the cracks running along her torso, tantalizingly gleaming through her shirt.

‘I missed you,’ he said, turning the Watcher’s attention to him again. His gaze lingered on her eyes for a mere moment before it wandered to her lips. ‘I’d like…’ he took a staggered breath as he leaned closer, ‘I want you.’

‘Are you sure?’ Gaura asked tentatively, hoping for that sweet and resolute “yes”, even though a rational part of her reminded her that he’s been recently injured and they would need to rise early the next day.

Aloth nodded, his nose brushing against the side of hers. ‘I’d like to feel you close. You were on my mind in every waking hour while I rested here… as much as I enjoyed the comfort of my solitude, I… I can’t help but crave yours now.’

‘I know what you mean,’ Gaura pulled away, allowing the wizard to cast protective spells on himself. When he was done, she placed her hands on his waist and allowed them to trail downwards, past his hips, down to his thighs. Aloth instinctively wrapped his arms around her neck just as she picked him up. She rested him against the door, chuckling at his gasp. She pressed her lips against his throat as if she could kiss the breath caught in there. She spent a moment adjusting her grip on him while he held on to her a little tighter but easing into her touch still. She then turned towards the cabin and began walking. Her footsteps were loud still, but she had a hard time caring about that with her beloved in her arms. Aloth smiled down at her, softly, wearily. He remained close, where he felt safe. The wizard left a peck on her forehead just as they reached the bed and she carefully laid him down. ‘Was that comforting enough?’

Aloth laughed, flustered. ‘Indeed, it was. But you can’t fault me for wishing for more,’ a sly grin brightened his face as he sat up, his eyes fixed on Gaura’s who followed along with his movements. She stood back and watched as he reached back for his shirt and pulled it off him, over his head. His movements were deliberate, as if he still tried to prove to her that he has healed. The Watcher leaned down to smooth down his dark, silky hair that he ruffled as he undressed. Her hand lingered at the back of his head while she admired him: the way he looked up at her in adoration even as he set his shirt aside, the way his cheeks flushed under her gaze, the way his lips parted every so slightly in anticipation.

And her eagerness got the better of her at the sight.

As she claimed his lips, Gaura pushed Aloth down on the bed again. Her tongue swirled around his, slowly, giving him a taste of what she will do next. She pulled away, leaving quick, but lingering kisses on each corner of his lips. The wizard angled his neck, trying steal – or at least plead – for another one of her kisses, but the Watcher merely laughed, sweetly and quietly.

‘Stay down, my love,’ as she spoke, the hand on the back of Aloth’s head moved, slowly trailing a path down his neck to his collarbone. ‘Let me remind you why you missed me.’

‘That confidence was one reason,’ he chuckled. Goosebumps formed on his chest as Gaura’s hand kept wandering downwards, lightly like a gentle breeze. She would linger at seemingly arbitrary spots. She would guide her hands back up to show some special care to his sides, his pecs, his belly. ‘Your tenderness was another,’ he breathed the words as the Watcher leaned over him and left a sloppy kiss right beneath his jaw. Her tongue was hot against his neck as her mouth traced a line along his throat. With every teasing moment her touch grew firmer and in turn, Aloth’s heart beat faster with need for her. ‘And your passion-’

His words got stuck in his throat when he felt Gaura’s palm against his bulge. A light brush was followed by firm caresses and it took all of Aloth’s fortitude to resist squirming under her touch, to resist bucking his hips, wordlessly pleading for more. The Watcher let out a melodious laugh. Her teeth lightly grazed his collarbone and the wizard finally exhaled, quiet notes of his lust mingling with his breath. He was rewarded with a soft squeeze and Aloth found himself clutching the sheets under him.

‘You are so lovely,’ Gaura placed a kiss on the wizard’s lips as she pulled her hand away from him. Aloth let out a sound – a complaint, a surprise and a plea bundled in a single note. The Watcher chuckled as she pulled back. ‘Show me how much you’ve missed me.’

The wizard took a moment to regain some of his composure. He didn’t realize how hard he’s been grasping the bedsheets, his knuckles felt stiff even as he reached down for his trousers. He refused to look away from the Watcher, even as he lifted his hips and clumsily dragged his clothes lower. In turn, Gaura kept her gaze on him as well. She only turned her attention to his lap briefly, before she flashed a smile at him. Aloth’s chest felt lighter at the sight and he started questioning whether he could ever come up with a fantasy that would match her radiance.

‘I missed this view,’ Gaura said as she climbed off the bed and knelt in front of it instead. The wizard jolted up, seeking her visage. ‘Almost as much as I missed your brilliance.’ She pulled his boots and trousers off him, hurriedly, impatiently. The kiss she left on his knee afterwards was surprisingly soft in comparison. Her eyes fluttered shut as she guided her mouth to the inner side of his thigh. Each bit of contact was an anchor and a lingering reminder: they were there in the safety of the cabin, they were fine, they were together. She allowed her hair to blaze against his other leg while she slowly kissed her way towards his cock. She wanted him to feel the heat of her passion and the motions of her serenity.

Aloth struggled to keep himself quiet as the Watcher teased him. His resolve failed him completely when she ran her tongue along his length. His moan put a smile on Gaura’s face. She took hold of his cock while her tongue danced circles around the head, just the way her kiss promised. The wizard collapsed onto the bed when her mouth finally closed around him. Aloth clamped a hand on his mouth while the Watcher took more and more of him down her throat, following a sweet and steady rhythm, almost as if she aimed to invite his thrusts. Her free hand moved to his hip, she caressed him with her thumb in accord with the movements of her head. One motion to soothe the wizard while the other pushed him towards coming undone. Tenderness and passion. And everything else he missed about her. The wizard pushed himself up to sit. Gaura glanced up at him, the notes of her muffled chuckles sounded beneath the noises escaping Aloth.

‘I… I love you,’ he breathed the words shakily.

Gaura pulled away, leaving Aloth wanting for a single fleeting moment, before her hand began moving around him again. She left a quick kiss on the wizard’s lips, then echoed his confession back at him in a whisper. Aloth, however, wasn’t ready to let her go just yet – he reached for the back of her head and pulled her right back onto his mouth.

‘Say it again,’ he sighed in between kisses, ‘please.’

‘I love you.’

The wizard loosened his hold on her and rested his forehead against hers. Gaura felt his breath carrying his moan on her face. She laughed and caressed his nose with hers. Aloth in turn slid his hand down her scalp to her neck, then to her shoulder, clutching the fabric of her shirt as she rubbed him faster.

‘Let me go,’ Gaura whispered, ‘let me taste you again.’

Aloth hesitated for a moment, then obliged her. Still, he reached for her hand as she descended between his legs again. He wove his fingers with hers as she took him in her mouth, trying to ground his senses while she was pushing him closer to ecstasy. He couldn’t tell how long he sat there, fruitlessly trying to hold on while the Watcher was pleasing him. He wanted to tell her how she made him feel but the words couldn’t form in his mind. He wanted to tell her of her beauty, her tenderness, her sense of rhythm but he could only allow his body to answer her touches. He collapsed onto the bed when he came undone for her. Moments stretched into eternity and Gaura finally leaned over him, kissing him deeply, her hand still holding his. Aloth felt the touch of her lips on his forehead next.

‘Rest easy, I’ll be right back,’ she said as she pulled away.

Gaura made her way to her footlocker. She barely took the rest of her armor off when she heard a familiar spell being cast behind her. A moment later she was wrapped in Aloth’s embrace.

‘You make me forget why I enjoy being alone,’ his breath tickled the nape of the Watcher’s neck.

‘You remind me why I enjoy solitude,’ she turned around to face him, ‘in your company, of course.’

The wizard smile wearily and tucked a flame behind her ear. ‘Back in the cave, I… I couldn’t bear looking at you…’

‘It wasn’t your fault,’ Gaura interrupted him before he could lay any blame on himself. ‘You were hurt.’

Aloth didn’t answer at first. His smile slowly faded as he turned his attention to the Watcher’s hands. He gingerly reached for them.

‘If we have to be apart, I’d rather have that be by our choice. And yet I can’t ignore how much hope you give me,’ he looked her in the eye again, ‘I… I’m starting to wonder if I can ever make that choice again.’

Gaura gave him a faint, reassuring smile. ‘If it’s any consolation, I don’t think I can make that choice either. I certainly don’t want to.’

‘Yet you leave me alone whenever I ask.’

‘How could I say no, when you ask so nicely?’ The Watcher chuckled. Aloth reached for her cheek, prompting her to press his hand harder against herself. She shut her eyes tight, and focused on searing the feeling of his touch into her mind. As she has done dozens of times since they first kissed.

‘Then, if I may ask,’ the wizard stepped closer to her and guided her free hand to his hip, ‘don’t leave me alone tonight,’ his lips were brushing against Gaura’s, ‘please.’

The Watcher answered by letting Aloth guide her back to bed. And then by spending night reminding him and being reminded by him of all the things they missed about one another.

[chahnniesroom]

tenderness | chapter 7: go ahead

[noun] /ˈtendərnəs/

1. the quality of being gentle, kind, or loving

2. the feeling of pain, aching, or soreness

pairing: bang chan x female reader

summary: in a world where soulmates are rare and precious, you don’t know why the universe has decided to give you one. you never could have imagined that they would be an idol, and one that you worked with at that, or the challenges that would arise from your bond.

chapter word count: 5.8k

chapter warnings: injury, mentions of nausea/gagging, jealousy

a/n: i am not a doctor and i did minimal research on anything medical related

previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter | read it on ao3

You arrive at the airport almost an hour before the members are supposed to show up and help to offload some of the luggage that wasn’t shipped directly to the arena. There’s already a crowd that buzzes to life when the company vehicles pull up. They quickly settle back down when they see that it’s only staff onboard, but you’re a little spooked by the number of professional looking cameras that had been pointed in your direction.

When the members show up, they pile out of the vans and line up to greet the crowd, before heading towards the security check-in. 

You’re impressed by how immune they are to the bright flashes, screams of their names, and having so many phones shoved in their faces. You follow at a sedated pace, not wanting to be captured in the pictures and videos, and wince a couple times when the security team has to step in and push away fans who have gotten a bit too close for comfort.

“Is it always like this?” you ask Eunsung in a low voice.

“Pretty much, I think today there are more people than usual.” He shrugs. “You’ll get used to it after a few more times. Probably when we’re in the United States then it won’t be the same, less fans but more people overall.”

You stare at the back of Chan’s head, covered both by a beanie and his hoodie, and try to imagine feeling as unbothered by the mass of bodies and cameras as he appears.

—

The flight to Japan is relatively unremarkable, it’s just over 2 hours which is enough for you to fall asleep, but not long enough to actually get some rest. Thankfully, Narita Airport isn’t as crowded with fans as Incheon Airport. There’s still a large group waiting at the arrival terminal, but you’re not as concerned as before.

 As much as you’d love to explore the city a bit, you’ve arrived so late in the evening that there’s no time to do anything but check in at the hotel and grab a quick dinner with your team before you have to head back. You’re tired enough that you don’t really mind, intent on saving up energy to enjoy yourself for these next shows.

Luckily, tomorrow isn’t a concert day, there’s a day of buffer before Friday, the first of the three concerts in Tokyo. There are more Japanese concerts, but they’re much later on and some of them haven’t even been announced to fans yet.

You spend the first day helping get the venue set up for the concert. It takes surprisingly long to unpack anything, and you’re exhausted by the time you’re in a car on the way back to the hotel.

When you unlock the door, Chan and Hyunjin both turn to stare, looking like deer in headlights. They’re clearly recording something, Hyunjin has headphones on and is carrying a portable microphone. You back away without saying a word, and close the door quietly behind you. 

You text Chan a quick apology for interrupting, then message Felix, asking if he’s busy. When all he does is send you his room number and a million exclamation marks in response, you make your way down the hallway. The boys have individual rooms, but they’re all clustered together on the same floor so it doesn’t take long before you’re standing in front of his door. You take a moment to compose yourself. You’ve been trying so hard to not bother Chan, but it seems like no matter what, you’ve found a way to be a nuisance.

You end up spending the rest of the evening sprawled over Felix’s bed as he, Han, and Minho eat their way through a variety of Japanese convenience store snacks. You try a few of them, but after a couple with strange flavours that none of you can manage to swallow, play it safe by slowly emptying a packet of fruit jellies. 

—

Surprisingly, the first concert goes smoother than any of the Seoul dates. The Japanese staff are extremely helpful and organised, although you’re not even close to fluent in speaking Japanese. 

As you’re waffling between staying up to see when Chan comes back and just going to sleep without him, your phone lights up with an incoming text.

[12:24 am - received]

Sorry, lost track of time and forgot to let you know but I’m recording something with Sungie rn

I’ll try to be back soon, but don’t wait up

Sorry

At this point, you’re not surprised, just disappointed. You had heard that the members got more free time while touring and had stupidly gotten your hopes up that it would mean Chan would take some of that time to get proper rest. You keep telling yourself that you should trust him and that he’ll actually take care of himself if he needs to, but it doesn’t stop you from worrying about his health. You know that if you’re feeling effects from not spending enough time with him, then he must be too and that scares you more than you think it should. 

—

It’s almost like the day before went too well, because bad luck strikes in no time. A few of the managers and coordis have come down with something by the afternoon of the second concert, leaving the team dangerously short staffed. There isn't enough time to get any replacements, the only option is to divy up the responsibilities as evenly as possible.

Shortly before the start of the concert, you’re tasked with distributing the baskets of water bottles and hand towels around the edges of the stage for the boys to use as they perform. It’s nerve-wracking to peek out at the audience, you can hear their chatter from where you stand on the sidelines. Doors have already opened and many Stays are already seated, eagerly awaiting the show. You’re grateful for the mask that you had decided to put on at the last second as there are multiple people who look up as you walk on stage, a few of them even cheer as you set the little basket down near their section. You just bow to them and then quickly make your way off, sighing in relief when you are finally out of sight. You have no idea how Chan or any of the members could handle being in the spotlight with so many eyes on them.

By the end of the evening, you’re so drained from running around backstage and hauling various equipment, outfits, and accessories around. You get a couple of concerned looks from a few of the staff when a bout of dizziness forces you to put a hand on the wall for support. You wave them off and laugh, but are forced to take a minute to wait for the vertigo to recede. 

Luckily, you can hear the strains of the encore music starting and know that it’s an okay time to take a short break. You make your way to the staff room without a problem and pick over the leftover food. It’s only when you start eating that you realise just how hungry you are. 

“Y/n? What are you doing here?” Yonghwan walks in just as you take another bite and your cheeks flush as you have to chew quickly to swallow the food.

“Sorry,” you say sheepishly. “I didn’t have a chance to have a break for dinner until now.”

“Oh,” he falters. “I’m really sorry to ask, but do you know when you’ll be finished? We’re getting everyone ready to clean up.”

You wipe your mouth and stand up to throw away the remains of the bento box that you were eating, there isn’t much left in it anyway. The sudden movement is enough to leave you light-headed for a second, but you catch yourself with a hand on the table beside you and recover almost right away.

“I’m done!” you say brightly, relieved to see that Yonghwan is typing something on his phone and hadn’t noticed your brief lack of balance. “We can go now.”

—

Your late meal seemed to have done the trick, giving you enough energy to help out after the show without any problems. 

On the ride back to the hotel, you fish out your phone to find a few unread messages from Chan, first letting you know that he was doing a live in Minho’s room, then heading to the gym with some of the guys. You’re oddly touched that he kept you updated and also how he’s been going out of his way to leave your shared room available for you to use since that first night, even if it’s more inconvenient.

The room is still empty when you make it back, but Chan returns when you’re halfway through your nighttime routine. You pop your head out of the bathroom to greet him and hurry through the last few steps of your skincare, but by the time you’re finished, he’s already situated himself at the desk, hunched over his laptop with a pair of headphones on. As the days in Japan have passed, he’s unearthed more and more equipment from his luggage and it’s all spread on a couple tables in your hotel room. 

You bite back a sigh at the familiar sight and skirt around him to climb into bed. It’s close to 1 in the morning and you’re exhausted. The long hours you’ve been doing combined with the amount of running around required for each concert means that you’re sure you’ll pass out the second that your head hits the pillow. Already your arms and legs ache from the extra physical work that you had to do and you’re sure that you’ll be extremely sore tomorrow.

You know you’ve been running low on Charge, that it's one of the reasons why you’ve felt so worn out these days, but at the same time, you don’t want to interrupt Chan. You’re trying to respect his boundaries and honestly, you’re a bit wary of what his reaction could be if you asked him to stop for the day. Sure, he hasn’t snapped at you or raised his voice at all since that night in his studio, but you’re still hesitant to broach the subject.  

The light is still on, but there’s the rhythmic sounds of Chan working and the hum of an air conditioner that are making your eyes heavier and heavier. You give in, putting your phone onto the side table and nestle into the blankets.

Suddenly your alarm is chirping in your ear. You turn it off immediately, not wanting to disturb Chan, then sit up blearily, not sure how it’s already morning. 

You’re still so tired.

It feels like you haven't rested at all, even though Chan’s arm is still slung around your waist and your legs are touching. You rub the grit from your eyes and give yourself another second before getting up. Your vision whites out briefly and your muscles protest when you finally stand. When you stumble into the bathroom, you splash your face with cold water, hoping that it’ll help shock you awake. 

You’re reminded of when you were a teenager and forced to pull long hours to study for the CSAT. At that time, your brother had already graduated and was well on his way to becoming a doctor. While you were proud of your brother, his successes had always increased the expectations on you. He had excelled in science and your parents had been thrilled that he was following in your abeoji’s footsteps. On the other hand, you had set your sights on majoring in business, a degree that was more manageable, but still fairly well respected. 

That didn’t make things any easier, though. Throughout your schooling, your eomoni had always strictly monitored your grades and social life. She kept close tabs on your attendance at cram school, organised sessions with private tutors, and was liberal with her scoldings whenever you weren’t within the top students in your class. The pressure had been unbearable and the only thing that had gotten you through was the knowledge that making it into a good university would get you out of your family home.

You don’t know if it’s the time that has passed since then or some sort of influence from the soulmate bond, but you’ve never experienced such strong physical impacts from lack of sleep. Maybe life after university has spoiled you a bit too much. Prior to your switch to managing Stray Kids, you had gotten used to at least 6 or 7 hours of sleep each night, a far cry from when you were studying and lucky to get 5 hours.

You had been a little bit miserable all the time, but looking back, it had been a valuable experience. You had learned a lot about time management, prioritisation, and most importantly, how to ensure sleep deprivation didn’t affect your performance. 

—

Unfortunately, there’s no miracle that occurred overnight, and when you get to the concert venue in the morning, there’s still a significant number of staff who are unwell. It’s less than ideal, but at least the day before proved that the team will at least be able to survive the night.

You end up trailing behind Eunsung, tasked with retrieving cases that contain backup microphones that were somehow lost when everything was put away after yesterday’s concert. This area backstage is poorly lit and crammed with boxes and equipment that’s all shoved to one side so that there’s just barely enough space to have a walkway. It’s not a surprise that the microphones weren’t found earlier.

The case that you’re holding is heavy, and you have to lean to one side so that your body weight can aid in keeping you balanced. Ahead of you, Eunsung is easily carrying one in each hand, while your arms are starting to tremble from exertion. 

You’re suddenly overcome by another wave of dizziness, something you’re getting better at anticipating. You slow down to take a break and steady yourself, but the case that you’re holding clips the edge of some scaffolding at the same time that your foot doesn’t quite clear a bump in the ground where a bundle of cabling has been taped down. The microphones are dropped with a thud, you lurch to the side and close your eyes, bracing for impact. 

You don’t even feel yourself hit the ground. 

The next thing you know, you’re blinking back stars, shrinking away from a light that’s shining directly in your eyes, but a hand cradling the back of your head prevents you from moving too far. 

“What?” you try to say, but your voice comes out sounding warped. Your head is pounding and feels like it’s been stuffed with cotton. The light turns off and you sigh in relief, it reduces the pain to a dull throbbing that seems to be in time with your heartbeat. Your vision is blurred and you can barely make out the face of the person that’s holding onto you. “Eunsung.”

“Oh good, you can recognise me. Do you remember your name?”

“Y/n.”

“Good. And do you remember where we are?”

“Concert,” you say. That part is easy, the music is so loud that you can feel the vibrations of the bass from where you’re lying on the ground. Even from here, there’s faint cheering that you can hear every so often.

“Do you know whose concert?”

“St- Stray… Stray Kids.” It would be embarrassing how long it takes you to recall the name of the group, but your headache makes it hard to think, let alone feel anything other than pain.

“Okay. What country are we in?”

After a moment, you finally remember, “Japan.”

“Perfect. Do you remember what happened?”

“Uhm. I was… tired. I fell.” 

“Great. Now are you feeling dizzy? Nauseous?”

“Mmm. Dizzy I think.” 

You crack your eyes open and when the room spins around you, immediately retch. When nothing but bile is brought up, you remember that you've hardly eaten anything today. The concert has already passed its halfway point and you don't even recall stopping for a lunch break. The increased pressure from your gagging makes the pain in your head explode and it takes everything in you to keep the nausea at bay. At your side, Eunsung takes exaggerated breaths and you force yourself to follow them, feeling a little bit better once you’re able to breathe properly again.

“Okay. Seems like you might have a concussion, but I'm hopeful that it’s only a mild one. I’m concerned about the fact that you were unconscious, but it was only a few seconds and otherwise you don’t seem that bad. I really want to get you to an actual doctor, but first let’s get you sitting upright and see how you feel then.”

Sometimes you forget that Eunsung has done extensive safety training and doubles as a first aid attendant for the team. Now, it’s obvious. He’s clinical and calm, hands steady as they support your back and neck before lifting you into a sitting position. 

Even though he does it slowly, your vision swims and you start to list to the right, away from where Eunsung is crouched beside you. He’s quick to grab your shoulder and tip you back. You keep going until your forehead hits his chest and this time, he doesn’t try to correct you, just wraps his arm around you securely and lets you stay there.

“Y/n, how are you feeling now?”

“Hurts,” you say, turning your face towards Eunsung so that his body blocks out all the light. It had seemed so dim earlier, but now you can barely open your eyes without tears forming. Even that movement makes the ache in your head intensify and you let out a groan.

“Can you be more specific? Does anywhere hurt more?”

“Head.” You lift your hand and fumble, trying to pinpoint where the pain is coming from. Your fingers hit a tender spot and you immediately retract your hand, not wanting to get close to that area again. “Ow, there.”

“Good job. That’s here you hit your head, but it doesn't look like there’s any blood, which is a good sign. I’m going to get you some ice and try to get the swelling done.” At that you clutch at his shirt tightly.

“No no no, don’t go,” you say frantically.

“I- Okay. Are you still nauseous?”

“Uhm.” You take a moment to assess yourself, then confirm. “Not anymore.”

“Okay, okay. I’m going to bring you with me and we’ll get you to a better place to rest. I’m just going to lift you up and I think I saw that there was a room close to here that would be good.” It sounds like he’s talking more to himself than you, and you’re happy to stay quiet. He guides your arms to loop around his head and then gently lifts you, one arm around your back and the other under your knees. “Y/n? Is this okay?”

“Yeah,” you say faintly. “Just go.”

He takes a couple steps before you stop him, tugging at his shoulder.

“Wait! Oppa,” you say urgently.

“What?” he asks, panic leaking into his voice for the first time.

“The microphones. We need to bring them back too.”

“The- Y/n, who cares about the microphones! You just bashed your head against the side of a trunk so hard that you blacked out. You need medical attention right now!”

“But, the show,” you say meekly. “They need the microphones.”

“Yn- Okay,” Eunsung says with a sigh. He can probably tell that you’re not going to budge on this. “We’re going to bring you somewhere safe to rest. I’ll get some ice for your head. Then I’ll ask someone else to bring the microphones.”

“Mm, okay.”

He continues walking and you have to bite your lip hard to stop yourself from making any noise. Although you know he’s trying his best to be gentle, the slight jostling of each step just exacerbates your headache. It’s hard for you to track the time passing, but eventually he eases you onto a couch, reappears with ice, then collects you in his arms again to carry you to a company car.

It’s surprisingly fast getting you to see a medical professional. One of the Japanese staff accompanies you to help translate and the three of you are relieved when the doctor allows you to go home. He goes on for a while, explaining symptoms that you can expect and a recovery plan, but you tune it all out, trusting that Eunsung and the other staff member will keep track of it all. Before you know it, you’re back at the hotel where you force Eunsung to bring you back to his room.

“They said it was just a minor concussion, right?” you ask once you’re settled in bed. You feel remarkably better after having something to eat and drink and being able to spend time not moving. Your stomach has settled now that there’s food in it and your dizziness has subsided almost completely.

“Yes, luckily it’s not too serious. You had me really worried for a moment.”

“I’m sorry. This is really bad timing too. Did they say how long it’ll be until I can work again?”

"Normally, it'd be at least a couple weeks until you feel better, but with the soulmate bond? He said your recovery will go more smoothly. Could be half that, maybe even more depending on how much Charge you get."

"What if- what if I'm not getting enough Charge. It’d still just be two weeks right?” you ask, avoiding Eunsung’s gaze.

“Y/n,” he says warningly.

“I- Things have been busy. We’re both… busy,” you say weakly.

“How much less?” 

“My head hurts,” you say instead.

“Y/n-”

“I’m tired. It’s been a long day. I want to sleep.” You turn so that you’re facing the wall. Moving again makes your head throb, although the painkillers that you’ve been prescribed are starting to dull the pain.

Eunsung sighs. “You can rest for now,” he says to your back. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

You know you're going to have to move back to your room tonight, but the doctor advised you to have someone monitor your condition for the next while. Based on the past few days, you have no idea when Chan will be back, so it’s easier to just stay with Eunsung. You know how much of a hypocrite it will make you seem to have scolded Chan about resting when it turns out that you've also been neglecting your own health and you're already embarrassed enough. You don't think you can face him right now.

You were telling the truth when you said you were tired, but still sleep doesn't come easy.

—

Coming off stage, Chan feels great. The energy from the crowd, being able to see so many Stays, having a chance to have a lot of fun with the rest of the members, it makes all the long hours and sleepless nights worth it.

After handing off his mic and taking a final group picture, Chan searches for Y/n. He’s so happy and he wants to share this moment with her. A brief look around doesn’t yield any results, but Chan’s not concerned, he knows that even though the job is finished for him, the staff still have a lot of work to do.

He manages to catch Minyoung as she’s shoving cases of makeup into a large tub.

“Hey, just wondering if you’ve seen Y/n around? Had something I wanted to talk to her about.”

“Ah,” she says. “I haven’t seen her around, I think that something came up during the show.”

“Oh, thanks.” Chan’s mood rapidly sours, but he does his best not to show it. He checks his phone again, but there’s no new messages from Y/n. It’s odd, but Chan wants to give Y/n the benefit of the doubt and not jump to conclusions. It wouldn’t be the first time that Y/n got pulled away to deal with a different issue or was too busy to notice that her phone battery died, he reasons.

“We still have that dinner tonight, she’ll probably turn up there.”

“Right!” Chan had forgotten all about the dinner that was planned as both a celebration and a kick off for the tour. He feels a bit better knowing that attendance to the event is basically mandatory and the rest of the staff must be scrambling to get everything finished before then.

The restaurant that they head to has been fully rented out, so they don’t have to worry about being spotted. It’s crowded with staff, some being people that Chan has never even seen. 

When he hears a couple of coordis sitting at an adjacent table mention ‘Y/n’ and ‘soulmate’ in the same sentence, he’s instantly on guard and focuses on what they’re saying. If it was somehow found out that Y/n is his soulmate, it would explain her sudden disappearance. They would need to contain that information fast.

“They’re just so cute together, it must be so nice to have a soulmate,” one of them sighs.

“And especially one you work with, since we’re going to be travelling so much. I heard that they left early together today,” the other says conspiratorially, resulting in a gasp from her friend. Chan's confused, but keeps listening. “I wish I could do that, I think I would be fired on the spot if I even thought about taking a break during the concert.” 

“Oh! Someone mentioned that they did see Eunsung-ssi basically carrying someone out earlier, I guess it was Y/n-ssi. Lucky girl,“ the coordi says wistfully.

Eunsung? Y/n leaving early? It's not unusual for Chan to not be able to keep track of where Y/n is and he couldn’t be that obvious about asking around for her, but she’s never actually left without at least texting him before. It would explain why he still couldn’t spot her when he had glanced around the restaurant.

“Hyung.” Jeongin cuts off his train of thought. “Is everything okay?”

“Huh? Yeah,” Chan looks down to see that okonomiyaki that was in his plate has been subconsciously shredded by his chopsticks and has basically reverted back to its precooked form, just a pile of ingredients. Being on stage always requires a lot of energy and before this meal, Chan had been starving. He’s starting to regret the amount of food that he had scarfed down though, it has seemed to all consolidate into one big lump that now sits uneasy in his stomach. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, just got full all of a sudden.” He pushes away his dish, the sight of the uneaten food is enough to make him feel a little queasy.

They’re interrupted by clapping and look up to see that a cake is being brought out, fizzling sparklers and a printed image of a tour poster decorating the top. Chan joins the group to take a picture, but can only manage to swallow a couple bites of the cake before he hands it off to Jisung who happily finishes it.

When Chan gets back to the hotel, Y/n still isn't in their room yet. He checks his phone again, but there’s still no notifications from Y/n. He sends off a message, asking if everything is okay then showers. When he checks his phone again, there’s still nothing. 

At that moment, Chan hears the familiar whir of the lock and he looks up at Y/n shuffles in.

"Oh, you're back already," she says, eyebrows jumping up in surprise when she notices him.

"Where else would I be?" Chan replies. Even he can tell his tone is more waspish than usual and Y/n pauses only a couple steps from the door.

"Uhm. Sorry," she says cautiously. "I just thought you might have been at the gym or something. You're usually out until later than this." Chan narrows his eyes at her response.

“We had the team dinner tonight.”

“Oh, was that today? I completely forgot.” 

"And where were you?"

"I- I wasn't feeling that well. I left the concert a bit early to get some rest." Now that she mentions it, Chan can tell she’s holding her body differently, more gingerly, like any sudden movement could cause pain.

"But you weren't here, where did you go?"

"I didn't know if I was getting sick. I was concerned about passing something on to you so we found a doctor that could see me on short notice. They said everything was fine."

"Oh," Chan says, starting to feel bad now. He shouldn't have paid attention to what the coordis were insinuating. "Sorry, I just-"

"Just wanted to snap at me?"

“You didn’t text,” he says lamely.

“Sorry. I wasn't thinking straight, I forgot to let you know.”

"I guess I was just worried," Chan admits. "I couldn't find you after the concert and you weren’t at dinner, I didn't know what happened."

"Sorry,” she says again, “Things were kind of hectic. I- I didn’t know that you would notice. And I really did forget about the dinner.”

“Wait, did you go by yourself?” Chan doesn’t know if he’s asking to see if there was any truth in the overheard conversation or because he feels nervous about Y/n out in a foreign city by herself. 

“No, Eunsung-oppa was with me.”

“Oh?” Chan tries to sound nonchalant. This whole conversation has been a rollercoaster ride of emotions and he’s ready to get off.

“He’s the one in our team that we go to for anything medical related. He does the first aid training and knows all the protocol for if we have to fill out paperwork. We also had one of the Japanese staff there to help translate.”

“Ah.” Chan’s an idiot. He feels like the worst person in the world. He’s so dumb for jumping to conclusions. 

“Yeah.”

"As long as you're okay. Come here."

Chan opens his arms. When Y/n walks into his embrace, they both sigh in relief.

“Feel better?” Chan asks.

“Yeah, I guess I was just tired,” she says, but there’s something weird in her voice. He pulls away slightly.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah! Just- just had a weird day. And… I had a headache. But really, I’m fine now. I feel a lot better knowing I’m not going to get you or any of the guys sick. How was the concert?”

“It was good! Great, actually,” he says. Thinking about it brings a smile back to his face. “I know things are busy for you right now, but we’ll have to get you in the crowd for one of the nights! I want you to be able to see the show that you worked so hard on, it’d be a lot of fun.”

“I’d like that too,” Y/n says, smiling wistfully.

“I can mention it to Yonghwan, he can figure out logistics. We always have some tickets reserved in case we want to invite guests, they’re good seats. Maybe a little far back, but you’ll be able to see everything that way. One of the cities we’re doing multiple days might be best, I know the second show would probably be less busy for your team.” He stops himself when he catches Y/n trying to hide a yawn. “You must be tired, sorry I’m rambling. Go wash up, we can go to bed now.”

He releases her from their embrace and watches as she has to collect herself the second they break contact. She's obviously still not feeling well, but Chan bites his tongue instead of voicing his concern. He could see that Charging had seemed to relieve her symptoms and they’re about to sleep anyway. They’re going home tomorrow, but don’t have to leave until the afternoon so Chan’s looking forward to finally getting something close to a full night of rest.

—

Usually at airports, Chan tries to tune out all his surroundings. He’s aware of the occasional sasaeng that gets tickets to follow them into the departure area or even onto their flight, but knows better than to give them any attention. Today, he happens to sit right beside the two coordis that he heard gossiping last night. Trying to be casual, he turns off his music and slides off his headphones so that he can better hear what they're saying.

"-so glad to be heading back home. It feels like it's been forever since I've seen my boyfriend." He catches one of them saying.

"Ugh, at least you have a boyfriend. I haven't been on a good date in months!"

"Maybe you can find one at work too. Didn't Y/n-ssi and Eunsung-ssi meet at the company?"

"You're like, obsessed with them. I swear, one of these days they're going to find out you keep talking about them."

"Oh come on, if they didn't want people to talk then they wouldn't be so obvious about it. Look at the two of them now, you can’t say that they're doing a very good job of hiding that they're soulmates."

Last night proved why Chan shouldn’t give weight to any of their comments, but still Chan looks up from where he’s been pretending to read something on his phone. Eunsung and Y/n are sitting shoulder to shoulder, laughing at something on one of their phones. Something curdles in Chan’s stomach as he watches them. 

“It doesn’t help that Eunsung-ssi is so handsome. I’m sure he could have been an idol or at least a model with those looks if he wanted to. I wouldn't be able to keep my hands off him if I were Y/n-ssi either.” The coordis both giggle at that.

Eunsung is tall, at least 180 cm, with broad shoulders, perfect double eyelids, and a stupidly symmetrical face. His hair seems to always fall in artful waves over his forehead and when he smiles, it reveals his even and bright white teeth. It’s true that he looks more like a stereotypical idol than Chan does, even after hair and makeup have transformed him into a different person. Chan doesn’t notice that he’s glaring until Seungmin nudges him gently.

“Hyung, any reason you’re practically burning a hole in the side of Y/n-noona’s head?”

“Huh? Y/n, no- I- just-” The pair laughs again, Y/n tilting off to the side as she closes her eyes. Eunsung reaches out to steady her with a hand to the shoulder and doesn’t remove it. Instead, he uses the contact to pull her closer so that she can lean against him. 

Chan forgets what he was saying. Seungmin eyes him knowingly. For once, he doesn’t make any comment.

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[scribbleseas]

in love & in war, drabble 2: the one where you meet him

Description: Join Ciel, the Earl of Phantomhive, as he embarks on one of the most difficult challenges of his professional life: getting you to fall in love with him in order to become the next chairman of TransAtlantica— your father’s vast shipping empire.

Warnings: None, save for some explicit sexual content down the line! This is just a lighthearded series for fun! Think Bridgerton :)

Author’s Note: I’m sorry for the wait! I dropped this series premiere and academia decided to just become torture from then until basically now! But now I’m a bit more free to get some writing, and hopefully I can get my content consistent again! I’ve missed you all so much. I hope you guys like this drabble! I wrote it in one sitting so I will probably make some edits/additions down the line, you know how it is lol.

Also, if you would like to be put on a taglist for my fics, please comment and I will tag you for each update! Or if you only want to follow specific fics, you can let me know in your comment and I will make individual taglists for each fic :).

Happy Reading,

Dan <3

⇐ PREVIOUS DRABBLE | NEXT DRABBLE ⇒

MASTERLIST

Y/N Y/L/N

“You filled my entire dance card?” you lamented, feeling your resolve crumble as you scanned over the small piece of cardstock paper’s lineup of 20 names, each aligned with a planned piece from the ensemble: Lord Alexis Cuthbert, Mr. Nigel Crawford, The Honorable Geoffrey Wilson… The list included a plethora of noble lords and heirs to either significant corporations or well-respected aristocratic bloodlines.

“That is in accordance with the terms of the deal, yes,” your mother insisted, simpering at you while Daphne hooked long diamond teardrops in your ears, set in gold to match the thick necklace resting on your chest. “There were many house calls made about this specific inquiry, and they were all qualified young men.” By the tone of her voice, you could tell she felt she was doing you a favor.

But truly, meeting a man during a dance was excruciating. There was no respectable escape if the conversation was painfully dry or offensive. All you could do was pray for the ending measure of the music and make a swift exit.

You sighed, turning your attention back to the list: Mr. Jack Morrison, Lord Clarence Abery, The Honorable George Ackland…

“I understand. Thank you,” you surrendered, knowing fully well that there was no changing this list without disrespecting those on it already. You were fortunate that your parents were giving you the freedom to choose your suitor in the first place. Most of your peers had been betrothed since their birth, promised to a relative or a family friend as one half of a smart match.

Mr. Neil Gayton, Lord George Cuross…

You were the Earl of Richmond and founder of TransAtlantica’s only child. That was two inheritances—even if you couldn’t assume all control. Your positions should have locked you into a smart match from the start, but your parents decided to give you a chance at a love match, too. A chance at finding real love just as they did: through a cultivated list of requirements.

As painful and awkward the prospect was, it certainly wasn’t the worst outcome for a woman in your position.

“Lord Ciel Phantomhive?” your eye caught his name before you could properly descend through the list because you couldn’t believe it was there of all places. You knew the Lord Phantomhive to be incredibly private, skipping most if not all social gatherings and public appearances. The public rumored that he guarded his appearance closely because he was one of Her Majesty’s advisors and private investigators. You were most accustomed to seeing his name in stately cursive at the bottom of correspondences with your father and his associates.

“His butler called on his behalf the other day,” Daphne answered for your mother, smiling apologetically for interjecting. “He said he will be attending the charity ball tonight and wishes to meet you.”

“He is more than qualified and interested,” your mother said, “your father has always liked him.”

“Father likes his business strategy, no one knows him,” you answered, letting the dance card fall from your wrist limply. There was no merit in analyzing the names on it— you knew there was no escaping the evening.

Your mother rolled her eyes, unwilling to engage with your technicalities. “Come now. Our guests are trickling in. We should greet them with your father,” she offered her arm to you. You accepted, allowing her to guide you out of the suite with Daphne in tow. Whenever TransAtlantica co-hosted events at the Langham Hotel, your family rented the penthouse to finish preparations without having to make a commute from the estate.

. . .

CIEL PHANTOMHIVE

Acquiring TransAtlantica is not an option; it is an inevitability. Acquiring TransAtlantica is not an option; it is an inevitability, Ciel Phantomhive reminded himself with every step closer to The Langham Hotel’s grand ballroom, trudging through formalities and tepid greetings in the populated hall leading to it. It was the phrase he used to justify all of this unyielding frustration at each step: listening to Sebastian as he attempted to break down the confounding science of charming a young woman into comprehensible steps, and now, burdening his already-fraught calendar with unnecessary social appearances just to put himself in Lady Y/n’s path.

Unnecessary social appearances such as The British National Society for Aid and to the Sick and Wounded in War’s annual ball in partnership with TransAtlantica—one of many charitable foundations that the shipping company partnered with. TransAtlantica covered the costs of a lavish evening and invited their extensive networks of business moguls and the aristocracy to partake in raffles throughout the formal night. All proceeds went to the medical organization, and all publicity went to the company.

Until this year, Ciel was content with having Sebastian send his regrets to TransAtlantica alongside a hefty donation to maintain goodwill. But now, maintaining goodwill with this corporation and the family behind it would no longer suffice. He needed to make a personal appearance both at the ball and in the middle of Lady Y/n’s dance card. After Y/n cooly rebuffed him after moments of light teasing Sebastian made the appropriate arrangements with one of the maids to put Ciel.

While Ciel was well aware of the stubborn reputation proceeding her, few dared take such a tone with him. And for so little. Defensive, she was! Was it such a crime to be transparent about how it was careless to step onto a street without looking both ways? If Ciel hadn’t saved her at the perfect moment— even if Sebastian orchestrated the timing — she would have been hit!

“Find Lady Y/n when it comes time for your waltz,” Sebastian reminded Ciel as they entered the ballroom, “you are only on her dance card for a single number. The point is that you make a better impression this time.” The bloody butler prodded at Ciel’s lack of romantic finesse— a talent that a sleazy demon might have in surplus. Apparently, approaching her first and taking the time to see himself onto her dance card would prove Ciel’s interest in her.

“And of course, you must remember your apology, sir,” Sebastian’s words were coated in honey, the most obvious tell of his amusement. The prospect of his master having to express his regrets. “You bruised her pride,” he explained.

In response, Ciel sent him a fleeting gaze, heavy with irritation. Exhaustion after hours of coaching and correcting, endless explanations as to why Sebastian insisted that Y/n could never connect with him properly if he failed to acknowledge her grievances.

“I will,” he answered simply, clenching his jaw at the thought of verbalizing anything along the lines of ‘I apologize.’ He never had to apologize for his actions—not ones that were truly malevolent, and certainly not ones that were decently-natured. Although it seemed the exception was for the daughters of incredibly prominent figures whom he needed to charm. So much so that Sebastian had Ciel practice the series of words in front of a mirror.

Acquiring TransAtlantica is not an option; it is an inevitability.

The phrase had Ciel’s shoulders relaxing into proper posture, his tense jaw relaxing with reluctance. He took a gradual inhale in, scanning the room for Lady Y/n. He found her in moments, catching her pale green gown and its gold accents shining in the warm chandelier light. She was engaged in a jubilant exchange with the wife of Selwyn Westley, the owner of a prominent watch company.

“Very good, my Lord,” Sebastian chirped, merely watching Ciel build his resolve. He’d seen the Earl tackle a number of more threatening offenses: vengeful angels, homicidal circus clowns, and corrupt monopolists with less agonizing. “There is absolutely no time to waste,” he added in reference to the rest of TransAtlantica’s suitors (they were longshot candidates, at best) as they readied themselves among their own servants. Several men’s eyes lingered on the small dance card that hung from Lady Y/n’s wrist, looking to secure a spot in the moments before the first dance started.

It was that particular thought that had the corner of Ciel’s mouth twisting upwards, satisfied. Courtship could never be left to chance. It was a strategy— a war. How could they hope to defeat him when they couldn’t even manage to get themselves in front of her?

. . .

Y/N Y/L/N

“And that’s when I told him: I think I left them in the carriage!” Inara Johnson laughed riotously, briefly touching your arm as you laughed, mirroring the young woman’s impish grin. She had been recounting a sordid story about her courtship with her husband since it seemed your mother was quite liberal in spreading the word about your season beginning. Even still, Mrs. Johnson was quite a breath of fresh air after you suffered nine suitors trying too hard to impress you.

“I can’t imagine what you could have done without a spare change of clothing!” You managed through laughs, ignoring the pinch in your cheeks after hours of simpering and entertainment. You were only about halfway through the merriment, the orchestra completing a lively movement to start transitioning to the first waltz of the evening.

You only had a few moments to find your next suitor: Lord Ciel Phantomhive.

“I should find my husband for this waltz! I certainly hope you find yours quite soon, my Lady, I’ll be looking forward to your wedding,” she chuckled, parting with you after a playful wink.

“Enjoy the night,” you nodded, unsure of how to start your search for a faceless man as Mrs. Johnson found Mr. Johnson in seconds. He’d only been paces away, engaged with your parents about something you couldn’t quite pick up.

You took another look at your card to ensure that Ciel Phantomhive was indeed your next dance partner, but just as your gaze caught his name again, the man who pulled you from the carriage approached you. The very one that you were content with never laying eyes on again.

“Lady Y/n, just the perfect timing. Were you looking to join this waltz now?” He dared to ask, his sapphire eye just as breathtaking as it had been, his lips turning in the same mildly amused manner. Trying to appear aloof. “Or were you uninterested in sharing your time with the likes of mediocre destitution such as myself?” he asked, repeating the words you threw at him.

Was he trying to get a rise out of you?

You felt your face warm from his attempts as you fashioned your falling expression into a sparking grin. The future-Countess-of-Richmond-grin that you relied on so much. There was no losing your temper in this environment without mortifying your family name.

“Unfortunately, my dance card is full,” you answered with false kindness, feeling the young man see straight through your pleasant deception. That was one of the only lines a young noblewoman had to tell a man to leave her to her lonesome; it was well-known by all of polite society. “Perhaps another time. Though I really do need to find my next—” you started, starting to take a step to walk around him, but he side-stepped in your path.

“—After I saved your life last week, I thought you might find time for a dance,” he interjected, causing the remnants of your Countess smile to falter. “That’s why I had my butler secure this waltz with you.”

Your blood ran cold, your smile finally melting off your face. He couldn’t be…could he? It would only make sense, you supposed. A person astute enough to even impress your father.

“I was scheduled with the Earl of Phantomhive,” you forced yourself to answer placidly. You readjusted your expression, unwilling to give the man the satisfaction of visibly surprising you.

“Then you found me already,” Lord Phantomhive replied, all too satisfied. You didn’t even find him! He found you!

You failed to conceal your thoughts, judging by the condescending mirth in his grin. “Shall we?”

. . .

CIEL PHANTOMHIVE

“I— yes, I suppose we shall,” Lady Y/n cleared her throat, despite herself. She laced her arm with Ciel’s as he guided her to the center of the ballroom, more than certain that they were attracting attention, even if most people couldn’t connect his appearance to his name. The very reputation that filled a room enough to substitute his physical presence, most of the time.

Technically, he didn’t have to bow to Y/n because he outranked her, but as Sebastian insinuated, apparently Ciel needed to nurse her shallow pride.

Acquiring TransAtlantica is not an option; it is an inevitability.

Taking Y/n’s hand, Ciel led her into the first steps of the waltz. She seemed more interested in studying him than starting a conversation, mechanically following the dance while her mind was elsewhere. He allowed her to dissect the performance he put on for her for a few long moments before speaking.

“I wanted to take this opportunity to extend my sincerest apologies to you, Lady Y/l/n,” Ciel said, visualizing the script that he and Sebastian formulated. He had to make the words seem genuine as if he’d given them enough thought to be considerate, but not so much that he was reciting them. He guided Y/n through a turn, feeling her back tense under his hand.

“I should have helped you find the man who took your things rather than demean you with quips that failed to land,” Ciel continued, taking her continued silence as a bid to continue. His skin crawled at his words, betrayal bristling down his spine. He didn’t apologize. It was fundamentally wrong. And yet, for TransAtlantica, he would. Perhaps this company was the Earl of Phantomhive’s only real love match. “I know I seem far from deserving, but I do hope for your forgiveness. If you give me the opportunity, I hope to show you that I can be,” he continued, fashioning a similar helpless frown that Sebastian used to appeal to frustrated women.

Y/n’s face was unchanged, the same politely engaged expression with clear notes of frustration layered beneath. Of course, it wouldn’t be that easy—she was a petulant heiress unused to not having her way with people. She hummed, tilting her head as she took another moment to dissect his expression. The movement caused her long earrings to sway, drawing Ciel’s attention to the length of her neck and the complicated waves she had her hair styled in.

“You should have helped me,” Y/n agreed gruffly. “A proper gentleman would have, after all,” she mused.

Was the apology not gentlemanly enough? Ciel felt it exceeded expectations.

“I would…treasure the chance to prove myself to be a gentleman, then.” He answered, using part of a line Sebastian fed him. The demon did not have any foresight into the future, but after investigating Y/n with the intensity he would look into a criminal with, he had decent intuition regarding how these planned interactions would unfold. Sebastian accurately assumed she wouldn’t accept that apology.

“The chance to prove yourself?” Y/n repeated, her interest piqued at the proposition. Finally—a new emotion on her face besides detached politeness. “That sounds like quite the endeavor, my Lord.”

“It may very well be, should you let me accompany you on a promenade next week,” Ciel answered, watching her face redden. “If you might overlook my…” his mouth was drier than cotton, “deficiencies.”

He nearly choked on the word. Bloody Hell.

“Perhaps I might find time,” Lady Y/n answered, and Ciel’s heart soared for all the right reasons. He had a chance at the corporation, after all. It seemed acting was just as suspiciously close to lying as Sebastian had insisted.

Acquiring TransAtlantica is not an option; it is an inevitability.

. . .

[heyidkyay]

And I'm petrified of being alone, now |

Part Twenty-Two

Matty Healy x reader

Summary: She’s just trying to get by, really. What with being a single parent to her four year old son whilst simultaneously trying to kick start a successful career as a radio presenter. She’s got everything she’s ever wanted though, friends close by, a mum who’s merely a phone call away, and of course her baby boy. What else is there to wish for? But then, it’s not long before her relatively normal life gets upended and turned on its head, and she’s suddenly forced to deal with situations she’s never even thought to imagine.

What happens when one mention of a certain controversial singer on her show sends a flood of unexpected challenges her way? 

Authors Note: hi… I’m back? Idk if anyone noticed I dipped lmao, but! Back with another update of this fic and it’s a deep one, left off on uneven ground last time so here’s me clearing that up:) sort of.

Warnings: emotions. <maybe not needed but like, lots of emoting so. Quite a few references to Matty’s past, drug-use/overdosing, previous acts of slight violent and the usual stuff w him and this fic I guess (all mentions are brief)

ALSO back and forth changes of pov between Mouse and Matty so keep an eye out x

> Last update: look back here if you'd like!

Masterlist

Thing was, waking up had never come very easily to Matty. Even as a longtime insomniac.

Sleep came and went in staggered stages. He struggled with falling into it and then struggled with staying there in that languid state. It was almost as though his body was held prisoner by his mind and the thoughts which seemed to forever war there.

The drugs had fixed that, mostly. Stopped his heart. His lungs. And then finally, his brain. Leaving him in this tranquil haze, floating somewhere in between everything and nothing, muting those militant thoughts, blanketing his rampage of never-ending emotions. 

It was the numbness that he had craved. The nothing.

By the time he’d been shipped off to his first stint in rehab, he was utterly clueless as to just how terrifying it could all seem without it. What with the crutch no longer there. Reckoned he still had scabs that wouldn’t properly heal from all the time he’d spent scratching in that tiny box room they’d given him. Never really sleeping and only ever blinking awake. 

It sort of felt like that now. Opening his eyes to find that the world had tilted sideways once again, the wall slanted and the television opposite morphed longways. He sniffed, feeling the heaviness that immediately encompassed his head as he fought to force himself up onto his elbows.

It was quick, the sudden pressure that ripped through the joints, and he hissed as he peered down to find that the skin had been shred to bits, now blotted with flakes of rusted blood that had to have come from the night before.

“Here.”

Matty blinked blearily, swallowing around a lump in his throat before casting his eyes up slowly to find a glass being shoved towards him. He took it, skin prickling at the sudden chill he was met with and face scrunching up in distaste. 

He didn’t move to take a sip though, even with how dry his mouth then seemed, instead rubbed at his tired eyes before he dropped his hand completely to find Ross already settled on the adjoining armchair. Matty realised a beat too late that he must’ve passed out on the man’s settee, just as a forlorn feeling settled somewhere in his stomach, the evident reminder of the promise he’d been given the morning before hitting him.

‘You can even head back here after if you want.’

He’d wanted. He was forever wanting when it came to her. But he could hardly even recall making it through Ross’s front door, let alone contacting her at any point last night. Brow furrowing over how much he would have had to have drunk. 

“Time’s it?” Matty forced himself to ask, voice more guttural than he was used to, grogginess seeping into the edges of it as he settled himself a little better on the settee. He took a small sip of the water, testing the weight it would leave in his lead filled stomach before taking a couple more larger gulps. He settled it down on the console beside him after and then chanced another glance over at Ross, who looked as much a state as Matty felt. “Hm?” He tacked on when he was met with a bland look.

“Just gone one.”

Matty’s brows shot up at that, before he slumped further into the settee cushions. His head now ached something awful and he felt flushed to fuck, sweat causing the back of his tee to stick to the curve of his spine. “Shit.” He muttered unhappily, the familiarity of a migraine already setting in.

The word was met by a drawl chuckle. And look- Matty had known Ross for far too fucking long not to automatically hone into the odd quirks or reactions the bloke tended to favour, which was why he was already frowning when he squinted back over at him.

Ross had since turned his head against the back of the armchair, enough so that Matty could now see the darker sheen that sat beneath his lidded eyes whilst Ross’s gaze flickered over him. He didn’t say a word, merely chucked Matty’s own phone his way.

Feeling his forehead pinch, Matty forced himself to grit his teeth against the flare of pain that shot through his ankle when the thing purposefully missed his open hand and hit the bone of his ankle. “Fuck’s wrong with you?” He snarled at the oversized twat, picking the poxy thing up before rubbing at the offended joint.

Matty wasn’t offered up much of an answer though, what with Ross silently shaking his head at him. So he rolled his eyes in addition, lifting a finger up towards his face to rub at an eyelid before he finally managed to flip his phone the right way around and get a good look at it.

[HOMESCREEN]13:02

News 21 mins ago Back on a bender, Healy?The 1975 frontman was spotted out last night in an argument which quickly escalated and ruined a certain band member's birthday celebrations…

Twitter 28 mins ago Topic - music@/The1759: Matty captured in a deal gone wrong down in London?? Nahhhhh we all saw the relapse coming but this is just insaneeee...

BBC News - UK & World Stories 43 mins ago Matty Healy takes family bonding to whole new levels Hit singer spotted with girlfriend's son in an altercation whilst out in London earlier this month!

Messages 1hr ago Hann Ring me when you see this

The Independent 12:09 Singer, to the international band known as The 1975, was seen multiple times over the coming weeks in a variety of altercations that hinder his so-called sobriety, one of which was pictured and also witnessed by the young son of the frontman’s most recent fling. ‘Mouse’ as dubbed by her radio show, MouseOnAMic, has yet to comment on the behaviour concerning both her boyfriend and child, we continue…

News 11:44 This is how it starts! Matty Healy’s road back to rehab? Police were called in to break up a celebratory party held on the stretch of Soho in the early hours of this morning. Many faces were pictured amongst the masses, but most noticeably was singer Matthew Healy of The 1975, who was seen outside of a nearby club arguing with another man holding a bag..

Had you ever felt the floor just slip out from under you? 

Or maybe even the way that the Earth seemed to suddenly stop spinning, enough so that you could feel every little thing that was happening inside of your body? 

The swell of oxygen being forced out of your lungs. 

The rush of blood attempting to find the place of impact, susceptible to the sudden pain that’s been felt. 

Or even, the pulsing beat of every desperate squeeze your heart made in the very tips of your fingers?

There was a sudden sickness that clawed at the cage that bound Matty's chest together, thickening the walls of his throat and heavy enough that he had to inhale so deeply that the air demanded the bile to retreat back, back, back... Until his gut was the only thing churning and all he’d been left with as the most bitter aftertaste.

It was everywhere. Plastered all over Twitter, mentioned in every news outlet around for miles. Just there. Taking up the screen of his phone- and every other fuckers- without so much as a warning. Pictures, stories, accusations…

Evidence, a part of his twisted mind whispered.

But it was. A trail of wrongdoings which had led right back to that very day he’d spent with Teddy.

Teddy- 

God, how the fuck could he have been this mindless? This fucking blind. How had he messed up so badly?

It didn’t feel immediate, the way he moved to grapple his phone, scrolling in search of her name, for her contact, but it was. It was just instinctive. Thoughtless, how suddenly overwhelming the need to hear her voice was. To make sure that she was alright. Not wondering over whether she’d still be there waiting for him- no matter how heavy that thought now weighed on his dreaded mind. He simply needed her to be alright. And for Teddy to be none the wiser. For him to be okay. Just okay.

He remembered bits and pieces. It was slowly coming back now. An old face. Being offered something or other. He’d refused. He remembered he told the guy no. He’d been tempted, fuck had he been so tempted. But he knew better. Deep down. And he remembered saying no. Remembered pieing the guy off, having a light laugh, backing away. But then there had been a throw of hands, a split lip, the ringing crack of a jaw that had made his mind spin with flashbacks of Luke. Of the roof. Of his face hitting the cold empty pavement.

Matty could vaguely recall shouts and calls. George’s wide eyes. Ross’s hands gripping his arms. Hann already on the phone.

Tempted.

He’d been tempted.

It was that thought which played on an endless loop in his head whilst the ring of his phone echoed out into an otherwise silent room.

A flash of faces rattled across the forefront of his mind; expressions, voices, the need to please, a need to entertain.

She didn’t answer. The line went dead.

So he tried again.

Then a third time.

“Fuck.” Matty muttered breathlessly to himself, the panic in his voice breaking up the quiet that stretched between one ring and then the next.

She didn’t answer.

She didn’t answer.

–

Thing was, I’d always known it had been coming. As pessimistic as I was.

But hope was a fickle fucking thing. It made me cut the tip of my tongue on the front of my teeth to keep from ruining perfect moments with thoughtless words. It found its way into the little things I had done and still did. It allowed me just a second to smile, for no other reason than simply being. Than belonging.

Because that was what hope did.

It was also the very thing which had forced me to let my guard down, for those walls of mine to slip. It had granted him entrance into the life I’d so steadily built for myself on rocky foundations and borrowed time. 

It had broken me so easily and effortlessly. Wrapped me up in nothing but an empty pang of regret that rang out for miles and miles.

I stared blankly up at the ceiling laid out above me, counting down the minutes until Teddy finally woke once more. Only this time it would be from the sun rising up over the overpass, rather than his mum slipping in to curl up beside him in the early hours of the morning when it had all grown too much. Her need to know that he was okay, her helpless guilt and the pain which had felt all-consuming.

I wondered over the times Matty had been in here with him, putting Teddy to sleep, laughing together, telling him drawn out stories and singing old melodies. I wondered what he’d been thinking in those dotted moments. If he’d been thinking anything at all.

I questioned how stupid I had to have been, how blind to not have seen it. The lies, because he'd done it so effortlessly. The web he had spun, just in an attempt to deceive me. All laid out before my fucking eyes. And he hadn’t even had the decency to tell me to my face. No, instead I’d had to watch it all unfold alongside the rest of the world.

My tongue licked over my lower lip which had since been bitten raw, having dragged it between my teeth in both panic and pity. Because even though I was angry, a bigger part of me still cared. Still continued to worry. Because oh, how I worried. And wasn’t that the most depressing part?

Here I was, concerned about him, whilst he was out doing whatever, fucking whoever, taking whatever. I’d seen the fucking pictures. I’d seen them all. Scrolled and scrolled until I’d come up to the last fuck-off headline. Until his face had morphed into somebody else, and then someone else’s after that.

The reasonable half of me, the half I was attempting to stamp down and drown out, also knew that what you saw online wasn’t always what it appeared. But still, it looked too much like my biggest fucking fear being brought to life to care enough. I simply wished to have him here, so that he could either explain himself to me or so that I could use him as an object to simply scream at. To rally against.

Because I couldn’t believe he’d gone and done the very thing I'd been so terrified of. That he had done it, and that he then had lied to me. That he had chosen to drag my fucking son into it. Into his fucking mess of a life! After-

After everything I’d given to him.

The thought made me question how much I was worth. How easily I could be tossed aside and shit all over.

A hand tightened around my wrist then and my tired eyes startled over to where a matching set now peered right back at me. Though these eyes were accompanied by a sleep filled smile and not haunted like mine.

I reached up to run a hand through Teddy’s soft curls, thumb brushing over his hairline before it trailed its way down the slope of his tiny nose. “Morning, lovely.”

My chest tightened at the hold Teddy found on my arm then, tucking himself up under it so that he could bury his face into the crook of my neck, those little hands of his coming up to clutch at the fabric of my shirt. I chuckled softly, unable to do much else with the surprise that coursed through me, and hugged him back.

“You okay?” I murmured into his hair, pecking the crown of his head and willing the tightness in my throat to go away. I wouldn't cry, not now.

“Sleepy.” Teddy answered me and I felt him smile against my skin when I chuckled quietly, dragging him even closer to me.

“You know what? Me too.”

His little hand started to gently pat my back then and it broke my heart that little bit more, “Stay here, ‘kay? Keep sleepin’.” 

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, enough so that I was too scared to even speak, so instead I merely nodded, hoping that he’d feel it and somehow know.

“‘Kay.” He repeated after a moment in a hushed whisper, fingers clutching at the back of my shirt, “Love you.”

I bit down on my tongue hard enough to warrant some bleeding, the taste of bitter metal slowly filling my mouth whilst I willed myself to be strong. To not cry, not in front of him. Never in front of him.

“Love you too, baby.”

–

He’d wanted to go charging over there.

Mid panic-attack, itching for a drink, or a fucking fix. Fucking anything to keep his mind from imploding the way it currently was.

He wanted.

He so desperately wanted.

He’d shucked on his boots without much thought, paying heedless wonder to Ross’s words, his desperate attempts to get him to listen. ‘Cause it was all for nought.

His chest burned with a fearsome ache that could light pyres. It was all that he could focus on to get him through the front door of Ross’s flat and out into the hallway. There was only one other door on his floor, on the far end. Though it was empty, Ross having bought it out, loaded enough now to not have to fret about futile things like neighbours. 

“Matt! For fucks sake, Matty!” Matty heard Ross stress before fingers were catching around his upper arm, the grip too tight, too overwhelming, stopping him in his stride.

Not even thinking Matty wrenched himself away, hard enough that it put a good distance between him and the bassist, pinking the skin of his bicep. His mind was working overtime, tick tick ticking. He was overstimulated and buzzing with an unfound energy that wasn’t unlike a bout of withdrawal shakes.

“The fuck happened last night?”

The sound of his own voice surprised him, forced his shoulders up and his gaze to widen, to hone in on the only other occupant that took up the narrow hall.

“What the fuck happened, Ross!” Matty demanded again, stomper now, inching slowly back over towards Ross and the still swinging door he’d just torn open. 

Ross was staring back at him, reminiscent of days Matty had spent denying his ever increasing drug use, or the multiple overdose scares they'd been forced through. Matty could feel his pulse jumping beneath his skin now, hands shaking to the rhythm of it, but he could not for the life of him take a breath, so focused on Ross and his unmoving form until-

“What didn’t happen, Matty?”

The sting came then. Not just the metaphor for the way Ross’s words had gone and slapped him across the face, no, the sting that threatened to close his throat and wet his eyes. What didn’t happen.

“I need to know, Ross. ‘Cause my head-” Matty raised a trembling hand, dragging the limb down over his face before he was just stood there shaking his head, “It’s fucked. My head's fucked and I, I can’t. I can't remember even getting here. Can’t remember leaving that fucking club or fucking curling up on your sofa! I don’t know what could have happened for me to have fucked up this much.”

A long pause dragged between them then, Ross watching him like an injured stray he wasn’t sure whether or not to lure closer and take home. Whilst the hallway continued on in its stoney silence, not a peep being heard from anyone or anything, only allowing Matty’s hard and fast breaths to break it up and echo out along the walls. Taunting him.

“You didn’t take anything.”

It was both the worst and best thing Ross could have said. Matty’s shoulders slumped with the weight of it and he dipped his head down between the bones of his collar in lieu of an answer. He hadn’t taken anything. But, maybe if he had then there would be a fucking excuse, a way to annul all of his shitty actions. The choices which had inevitably led him here.

“You didn’t take anything,” Ross repeated after antoher stretch of time, eyes flickering back and forth over Matty’s sad face, “but you did fuck off for a while after. Found you slurring and pissed beyond belief down some back alley of another club a mile off. You,” He paused there- stuttered with uncertainty in truth, but Matty fixed him with a terrified look, whole body ceasing with it. “You were with some girl, Matt. She was as gone as you but she said she’d only wanted to help.”

A girl.

Right.

Right, yeah, no that made sense. He’d gotten drunk, she’d just stepped in to help. He, he wouldn’t have-

“And that’s it? You’re sure?”

Ross continued to stare back at him for a second or two, then his body slumped with a sigh, “I don’t know, Matty.”

“You don’t know?” Was his incredulous retort, “What the fuck am I meant to do with that, Ross? Did anything fucking happen or not?” Matty demanded, thoughtlessly taking another step closer. Ross, true to his nature, didn’t move away, merely stood his ground.

“I don’t know. I wasn’t there.” Ross reiterated with a sharp edge, as close as he’d ever get to shouting Matty knew. “You’re the only one who was, Matty. You go figure it out.”

Matty scoffed angrily, fisting his trembling hands at his side before they could lash out. “Yeah, and how’d you figure I do that then, hey?”

Ross took a breath, hand coming up to rub at his tired face. He shrugged and Matty could see just how exhausted he seemed with everything, with him. “All I know is you’d worked yourself up into a right state before you did your vanishing act, mate. Said something about Teddy, then about messing things up. I tried to talk some sense into you, I mean, we all did. But man, you were hellbent on fucking it all up completely.”

Ross’s throat bobbed and he looked off to the side, out of a nearby window that showcased the looming clouds above, before his gaze trailed back over to Matty’s defeated form.

“One second you were there, and the next you were gone.”

Matty couldn’t seem to find a reply to that.

Could only stand there. Questioning what the fuck he’d gone and done.

…

Hours passed, and then days.

Matty spent each minute trying to right his wrongs, to figure it all out. He’d called, he’d texted constantly. Basically barraged her with the little he had left to give. But heard nothing in return.

Hann had turned up in search of him later that afternoon he’d woken up round Ross’s and his entire life had been shot to shit. The man had practically boxed him back inside the flat and out of the hallway, forcing him to hole up there until the storm he’d created outside died down.

Not that it was much use. The storm only grew, more stories coming out, people stepping forward with fake tales and photoshopped pictures. Ross promised to talk to Mouse for him, but the most he’d been able to manage was an argument with Adi. Which hadn’t worked out all that well for Matty either as it turned out, seeing as how that had only proved to sour Ross’s already shitty mood, eventually putting the two of them on the outs.

Hann had tried too, attempting to contact Squeaks directly instead of through her mate. But had also come up with nothing. He’d been muttering away on the phone to Jamie since though, and Matty knew out of the five of them, it was probably him that Mouse would say something to. So Matty was avoiding him like the sodding plague, which was all too easy to do now that his phone was shattered to bits from a spiteful reaction to yet another unanswered call. 

He knew Jamie would tell it to him straight, see. That Mouse could just as easily end things through him properly rather than face to face, that’s if things hadn’t already ended between them.

So day three and Matty was basically bouncing off the walls, having already raided what little alcohol Ross kept in his flat the previous day and worked his way through the last of the smokes Adam had dropped round a couple hours before.

He was ticking with the need to move. To fucking escape the flat he’d been confined to.

He’d also had yet to hear from G either.

Which, Matty couldn’t lie was surprising. So when he wasn’t trying to talk his way out of the flat or make plans to set things straight between him and Squeaks, he was prying Ross and Hann for answers.

Not that it was worth the effort. Neither said a thing. Or well, they’d said the same thing, repeatedly. ‘He’s just busy.’

Busy his pasty fucking arse. If George was anything, it was a decent fucking mate. Even when Matty had messed up time and time again, he’d been there. Fucking found him that last time he’d been face down and coughing on his own bile, hadn’t he? G always came through.

Just not now, it seemed.

Matty’s head snapped up at the sound of the front door opening and immediately jumped up off the settee to round the corner to see just who it was. Then was all too quick to reel back, shaking his head in utter dismay as he walked his way back across the living room and out onto the balcony.

He heard a sigh sound behind him just as he wrenched open the door. “Matty...”

“I’m not doing this today.”

Matty threw himself down onto one of the deck chairs that had probably come with the place and cursed at the feel of dampness that instantly seeped its way into the burrowed joggers he wore. He tutted, sitting forward in the seat and reaching down to see that the chair hadn't managed to keep itself shielded from last night's rain. “Fuck sake.” He muttered under his breath but didn’t make a move to stand, figured he’d probably sat in worse.

He didn’t look back over either when the sliding door opened again and Jamie stepped on out to join him, though he did hollow his cheeks in irritation when said man tossed a pack of cigarettes into his lap and situated himself against the glass railing. “Gonna talk now?”

Matty merely opened the pack up, chucking the cellophane somewhere to the left of him and shaking two out. He stuck one between his lips and put the other back in upside down. Stretching out a hand, he used the other to tuck the pack into the band of his joggers, and then forced a snide smile when Jamie ultimately handed him his lighter. 

Two clicks and it was lit, he didn’t spare the man the favour of handing it back to him though, simply tossed it onto the end of the deck chair.

Jamie sighed once more, but Matty figured the older man was more than used to his ever changing emotions by now. Still, he knew he was acting the prick. It was just easier to be a prick and push Jamie away, than let the man fucking hurt him first. Not that he even would, it was just- Mouse, weren't it? Mouse and Jamie were mates, they spoke. They’d been fucking mates before even Matty had thought to even snag her number, before he’d attempted to even try to rid himself of the picture of her his mind had held onto. Jamie would tell it to him straight.

“She’s fuming.”

See?

Matty’s tongue darted out to wet his lower lip, catching on the front of his teeth and relieving the words with a sharp, albeit subtle sting. He swallowed thickly, eyes flickering quickly over to Jamie and then away again. “Like, bad?”

Jamie scoffed out a humourless chuckle and so in turn, Matty scowled, flicking the remnants of his fag ash out before turning to place the glare on the man.

“Yeah, as in on a scale from one to fucking ten, how pissed is she?”

With a heavy inhale- as though the question had been oh so demanding- Jamie looked up at the cloudy sky before eventually trailing his eyes back down again. “I don’t know.” Matty shook his head irritably, but Jamie just continued on, “But what I do know is that she’s messed up over it. Almost as bad as you, from the looks of it.”

And didn’t that just have Matty’s mind going down in a tailspin. He balled a hand up against his right thigh, letting his nails bite into the skin of his palm whilst his unblinking eyes casted themselves out onto the foggy sky rise of London.

A short scuffle sounded and then Jamie was sitting in the chair beside him, though he’d seemingly had the foresight to wipe it dry first. “Look, mate, it’s bad. But if you’ve done nothing wrong, then it’s something you can fix.”

“Nothing wrong?” Matty scoffed, the tick of his jaw keeping him from taking another drag of his cigarette. “Everything I do is wrong, man.” He let his head drop into his hand at that, the tremble of it more prominent now than it had ever been, “I can’t fix it, J. How can I? The fuck would I even start?”

The chill of the city air crawled up over the thin tee that covered Matty's shoulders, wrapping him up in it, but he could hardly feel a thing past the blur of thoughts that crowded the inside of his mind. Still, he shivered, jumping ever so slightly when Jamie’s hand came to settle on the top of his neck.

“Matty, listen to me.”

And that didn't help.

“All I’ve been doing is fucking listening! Listened to Hann, listened to pissin' Ross. Listened when they said not to go charging over there, to give her time, to give her fucking space! But they were wrong. If-” Matty hissed, rubbing at the sting that had settled behind his eyes, rubbing them raw, “If only I could explain! If I could just talk to her. I only want to make sure that she’s alright. To see her for myself.”

The breath of Jamie’s next sigh got swept up in the wind but Matty felt it all the same, but then the man’s hand tightened its hold on his shoulder and he felt Jamie dip his head in a gentle nod.

“I’ll work something out, yeah?”

And with those five words Matty’s head was snapping up, watery eyes honed in on his managers ageing face as though it held all the fucking hope in the world. And at that moment it fucking felt as though it did. Or it could have done.

“Yeah? Don’t fucking say it and then fall through on me, J. I can’t deal with that shit right now.” Matty told the man almost desperately, chest rising and falling aimlessly as he stared back at him.

Jamie simply chuckled, bracing himself with a smile. “When have I ever fallen through on you lot?”

[bristof]

Citizen Sleeper 2, One Foot Forward and the Other Slightly Backward

Spoilers for the entirety of Citizen Sleeper 2: Starward Vector

Citizen Sleeper 2 was up there with my most anticipated games of the year. After beating the first game mid last year, I've read every article posted about the sequel, bought the art book made by Lost In Cult, and done everything in my power to get my close friends to play it. Citizen Sleeper is easily one of my favorite games ever made, and unfortunately, the second game does fall short in comparison. Now don't get me wrong, I still loved my time with Starward Vector. The art by Guillaume Singelin is unsurprisingly still incredible, the music and world design still gives you that same unique atmosphere, the cold unforgiving vacuum of space and the somehow even colder and more vicious people behind the corporate dystopia that looms over the game at all times. Yet that warmth is still present within the characters you meet and the found communities that somehow continue to persevere and thrive due to the individual people within them. My only criticism of this game boils down to one thing, time. It took me around 11 hours to beat the first game, that game takes place in one really big location. It took me only 12 hours to complete Starward Vector, which has close to a dozen major settlements and even smaller locations. This game is aiming to have a broader scope, but the characters and narrative suffer due to the lack of time to flesh everyone out. This was most apparent when I approached the end of the game, by that point I had recruited every person you could which adds up to around 7 or 8 people being on the ship. Save for Bliss and Serafin, most of the characters in your crew barely interact with one another outside of their story quests. This leads to the ship feeling really empty a lot of the time. It would have been really cool to hear other characters chime in during major story events, maybe giving insight on potential outcomes based on their specific expertise. A simpler example would have been to add more events while you traveled to other locations. This does happen sometimes with a few of the characters, but most of them didn't get that treatment during my play through. I don't think Nia or Kadet said a single thing to another character on The Rig after recruiting them. Which really sucks, I loved hearing these characters interact with one another and I don't think it should have been as rare.

In terms of broader narrative, I found most of the stories told in this one to be pretty underwhelming in some way or another compared to the first game, save for everything that happens in Wellspring. Laine is a relatively weak villain (though the dialogue involving his control over you is very well written and unsettling), The new characters, while very charming, didn't grab me with their conflicts like the first game. Most of the stronger narrative moments involved a returning character, like the standoff on the asteroid with the fraction drive, or finally figuring out the history behind Olivera. Every character story has the ingredients needed to be something really cool, they are just crushed under the lack of time that permeates everything in this game. The second to second game play is vastly improved, Starward Vector demands that you understand and play around its systems and will heavily punish you if you don't. This can create some really cool narrative gameplay moments, like with your first infiltration into Darkside.

I beat this game a few days ago and will probably come back to this post with different feelings in the future after it's marinated in my head a bit. It says a lot about a game when my one issue is that I wish there was more of it. Starward Vector is absolutely worth your time, while not as numerous, It's filled with lovable characters, challenging decisions and superb writing throughout. Gareth Damian Martin and the others who've worked on these games are profoundly talented individuals and I am confident that their future projects will continue to amaze.

[sooperlative]

suffering will be your teacher

I don't think it's too late to share this one :)

Rating: E, for violence

Tags: Time Travel; Scarless Zuko; Zuko & Zuko's Crew; Jee has only had Zuko for a day and a half but if anything happened to him he would kill everyone on this ship and then himself

Summary: Zuko falls asleep on the evening of his official coronation, when he’s twenty-one-years old and has finally reached his majority. Zuko wakes on the morning of the Agni Kai with his father, eight years earlier. This is annoying for several reasons, like the fact that the War is still ongoing, that he has zero friends, and that Ozai is not in jail. It’s time to scheme.

Also, here are some ficnotes under the cut, if you're interested in some of my reasoning in regards to how the Agni Kai went in this universe. It's a bit spoilery but not if you've read chapter 1:

I’ve received a small handful of comments being shocked and/or delighted by Zuko deciding to burn Ozai the way Ozai burnt him: hand over the face like wiping away a tear, and then just going to town with their natural flamethrower ability. Whether this would be seen as in character or not, I wrote it in because I think it’d be in character, and I suppose that’s a rather important bit of writing lol. 

You can probably interpret it as Zuko perpetuating his family’s violence, or suddenly being okay with being goaded into a fight. But here’s the thing: he’s not okay with it. I’ve tried to hint at Zuko being disgusted with himself post-burning, yet simultaneously satisfied—because, hey, he’s back to fight-or-flight mode. He’s gone from the relative comfort of a palace filled with people he’d show his soft underbelly to, to the metaphorical viper’s den that was the palace when Ozai still ruled. Despite it having been a few years for him, Zuko still knows that it’s dangerous to be there, and that he cannot, under any circumstance, show aspects of his natural personality that may be deemed as weak. He’s the Prince and kindness, or mercy, will be punished. And he also doesn’t want to be burnt again—he’s not going to take that challenge lying down. 

So Zuko takes a risk. He fights back and uses his own experience to get his father to his knees. He burns Ozai before Ozai can burn him, despite the detail that harming the Fire Lord is probably illegal. And yes, like Azula told him, a simple burn on the shoulder would’ve been enough… but with someone as dangerous as Ozai, it’s better to incapacitate him. Ozai clearly doesn’t care about fighting fair and nobody would’ve stopped him either: in the show, Zuko went on his knees, refused to fight, and begged for mercy, but Ozai burnt him anyway without any sort of protest from anyone there. Zuko was in an inescapable and incredibly violent situation where the only way out was violence from his side. It’s an easy choice at that point, I think. 

Additionally, it’s also a revenge fantasy come true. I do believe that during the confrontation between Zuko and Ozai in Day Of The Black Sun, Zuko would’ve considered killing his father for a moment—or at least harming him. He doesn’t because it’s Aang’s responsibility to do so, and because killing your dad at age 16 after a lifetime of loyalty is kind of…. hard, but I’m certain there was a brief moment he thought about it. And burning your father instead, in the exact way he burnt you in another life, with him on his knees instead of you? Possibly a little bit satisfying. Zuko was granted a chance and took it. 

So, he’s scarless (if you have trouble imagining it: think of his face in the flashback of The Storm, plus his Fire Lordly face in his fever dream in The Earth King). I can hear people go like, “But Soopsie, that’s not our Zuko! The scar is a very important part of his character!”, and that is very fair. But keep in mind that he’s a 21 year old man who only occupies the body of his thirteen year old self, and he’s actually older than the Zuko of the show. I also think it’s not the scar which makes Zuko Zuko, but rather the mental/emotional scarring that lies underneath. Ozai still very much burnt him. There’s just not any physical proof right now. 

(I also don’t need to do any physical character design for this, which is a plus. He’s a lot less recognisable rn)

[kindafooey]

So I reached the part in the uncensored version where Koskela has his Hietanen-ridden fever dream. and oh boy let me tell ya. This scene refuses to let me out of its grips. I'm once again reading it over and over again trying to peel it like an onion (and tbf it does kinda challenge its reader to do that with the surreal and spiraling narration so maybe I'm not as insane as I'm making myself out to be after all, I'm just responding accordingly haha). and then I realized something. there's a parallel drawn between Hietanen and sunlight in two separate instances during this relatively short scene. He appears in the dream because the warmth of the sun reminds Koskela of Hietanen's laughter. The early parts of the book painted a picture of Koskela quietly enjoying the sun multiple times. And now the war is lost and everything is falling apart, but in the middle of total devastation, Koskela finds a peaceful spot in the sunlight, falls asleep and dreams of a charred and laughing Hietanen.

Am I tripping? Am I being utterly and completely delulu? like. I've said this before but I stand firmly by the idea that Koskela and Hietanen's relationship has a canonical, although one-sided, romantic subtext because Koskela's mental and physical collapse and suicidal death following the discovery of Hietanen's corpse very clearly stands out as reliance that signifies something much more intimate than mere friendship or comradery. And it's fascinating how subtle yet unmistakeably notable it is. They don't even directly interact with each other all that much, yet they always seem to be there for each other. When Hietanen is found shaking and dissociating after blowing up the tank, Koskela expresses a level of concern for him that he's never shown for anyone else. And oh, don't even get me started on their farewell after Hietanen is injured. In Linna's narration that more often than not describes the fallen and wounded unceremoniously disappearing from the men's lives and being fast forgotten, the held hands and brave facades and promises to meet again after the war in that scene stand the fuck out.

I dunno. I'm still extremely shook that this whole thing is an honest to god real thing that exists in the actual book in all of its 70-year-old culturally canonized glory instead of just. yanno. ship-happy fandom spaces. (which i have nothing but undying love for btw. i hope that goes without saying lol. its just a very different medium.) and I need to rave about this like a madman just to confirm that it's real.

[voxofthevoid]

WAIT LMAO I NEED TO HEAR THE TEA ABOUT SUKUGO NOW! i'm not fond of the ship either, so i'm curious to hear your thoughts

Ngl, I did crack up at how this landed in my inbox a handful of minutes after that post popped out of my queue. Also looping in @zyukan since you wanted to know too. Never change, y'all.

The tea isn't particularly scalding, just my take on canon events, but negative thoughts/assessment regarding sukugo to follow, so people who like the ship probably shouldn't read further. Unless you're into that, I guess, but then don't come bitching at me. There's also some relatively positive references to satosugu.

Initially, the ship was something I tried out during my exploratory phase in JJK. I thought I might like it but quickly realized I really fucking didn't. Granted, that applied to all non-goyuu Gojou ships because I'm a man with a pattern. Anyway, after that, sukugo was off my radar until the Shinjuku Showdown, at which point I got soured on the entire dynamic.

It's partially the framing, partially the execution, plus how these interact with what makes a dynamic shippable for me. There are moments of levity in the fight, and both parties (well, mostly Gojou if we're considering the explicit text of the fight) are having fun, but I could sense absolutely no connection between them despite the narrative trying to frame it that way. The repetition of Yorozu's words falls flat in that particular fight; it's there in her and even Kashimo's fight against Sukuna—that desire to reach him to fulfill themselves, one way or the other. In Gojou vs. Sukuna, the same is stated by the narrator, but I don't see/feel it. They're both focused entirely on themselves, even as they're enjoying the challenge.

Outside of the narration, whenever we see Gojou's and Sukuna's own thoughts, it's focused on either victory or external factors. The other person isn't anything more than an obstacle. After the fight, Gojou's happy he died a fun death and clearly respects Sukuna for his power and skill, but his focus there is on the fact that he went out the way he wanted. Sukuna praises Gojou immensely, but it's the same kind of praise he gave Jogo after he killed him—not the same extent, since Gojou warrants more respect and admiration, but both the driving factor and manifestation are fundamentally the same.

I'd say the lack of any genuine connection there is best illustrated by how there's no little chitchat between them after Gojou dies, the way there was between Sukuna and Jogo as well as Sukuna and Kashimo. That's explicitly presented as "the rare phenomenon of connecting with a sorcerer during the height of battle," and you'd think Gojou and Sukuna would have that given how much they pushed each other during the fight, but nope, it's just some slice and dice and then buh-bye.

Granted, none of this is a lack of shipping fuel—quite the opposite, given how the ship has taken off after that fight. But it's shipping fuel that's entirely antithetical to what I find appealing in a pairing.

In that linked post, I said I prefer even satosugu to sukugo, and I'd say the salient difference is that satosugu is a ship I was neutral about but ended up disliking due to fandom, while sukugo is a ship I was neutral about but ended up disliking due to canon. The former is ultimately ignorable, but the latter really isn't. Canon does a great job of presenting Gojou and Getou as two people who loved each other, and I enjoy poking at satosugu in my own fics, either when referring to Gojou's past relationships or even as part of Gojou/Yuuji/Getou. With sukugo, even that little spark is not there—I wrote an entire threesome scene with goyuu and sukuita, and Gojou and Sukuna didn't touch except in violence. I love Sukuna as a character while disliking Getou, but when it comes to ships, satosugu is more interesting than sukugo. I'll be avoiding both ships religiously, however.

[kon4ka]

Challenge: Drawing D&D classes - Topic 8 - Priest

🌪Priest Valkur of the Storm Domain🌪

Race: Kenku (Raven) Origin: Sailor

📘 Backstory: He was kidnapped by pirates as a child to be sold to a thieves guild, but the child seemed too frail to the customer and the deal did not take place. He would have been thrown out into the cold if the daughter of the Duke, who was in charge of thieves and pirates, had not intervened and wanted to “buy the bird.” You could say he was lucky, he stayed to live in the port city as the girl’s personal servant, errand boy, and then friend. After some time, the Duke was executed, and the Priest and the girl fled with the pirates and pirated for a long time, gathering strength in order to take revenge and capture their hometown.

✒ Character: Relatively good character for a kenku, considers himself indebted to the people who raised him. Cunning, calculating and cunning, cautious and suspicious of all unfamiliar people. For a long time, like everyone else, I dreamed about flying and the lost spark of talent, but after a while I found myself realizing the plans of my friend, receiving instructions from her and using skills that she did not have.

Speaks mostly in her voice (to everyone except herself at her request). He enjoyed sea adventures, and his skills more than once saved his own skin and the skins of the entire crew, for which he was chosen by Valkur as a priest. Together with his girlfriend, he often changes teams and ships, going on all sorts of adventures, She is driven forward by curiosity and a thirst for research, and by his duty as a priest to protect sailors and affection for her. He still wonders why God paid attention to him despite his damned race.

🪢 Skills: Knows a lot about shipping, at different times performed almost all existing roles on the ship, is familiar with bureaucracy and politics. It's almost impossible to get him drunk. He can scream like a fire siren that “he can even shout at a ship on the horizon,” according to the statements of the teams that sailed with him.

✨ Features: Falls for glitter, but knows when to stop. Uses his fallen feathers to write. Loves to dress up colorfully. Smooth and almost waterproof feathers.

RU

🌪 Жрец Валкура Домена Бури🌪

Раса: Кенку (Ворон) Происхождение: Моряк

📘 Предыстория: Его в детстве выкрали пираты, чтобы продать гильдии воров, но ребенок показался заказчику слишком хилым и сделка не состоялась. Его бы выкинули на мороз, если бы не вмешалась дочка герцога, который вел дела ворами и пиратами, пожелавшая "купить птичку". Можно сказать ему повезло, он остался жить в портовом городе личным слугой девушки, мальчиком на побегушках, а потом и другом. Через какое-то время герцога казнили а Жрец со девушкой сбежали с пиратами и долго пиратствовали, собирая силы для того, чтобы отомстить и захватить родной город.

✒ Характер: Сравнительно неплохой характер для кенку, считает себя обязанным людям, что вырастили его. Хитёр, расчётлив и коварен, осторожен и подозрителен ко всем малознакомым. Долгое время как и все грезил о полётах и утраченной искре таланта, но спустя время нашел себя в том, что реализовывал замыслы своей подруги, получая от нее инструкции и применяя навыки, которых у нее не было. Говорит в основном ее голосом (со всеми кроме нее самой по ее просьбе). Ему пришлись по душе морские приключения, а его навыки не раз спасли его собственную шкуру и шкуры всей команды, за что был избран Валкуром в качестве жреца. Вместе со своей подругой часто меняет команды и корабли, отправляясь во всевозможные приключения, её гонит вперед любопытство и жажда исследований а его долг жреца по защите моряков и привязанность к ней. До сих пор недоумевает почему бог обратил на него внимание вопреки его проклятой расе.

🪢 Навыки: Знает многое о судоходстве, в разное время исполнял почти все существующие роли на корабле, знаком с бюрократией и политикой. Его почти невозможно споить. Умеет орать как пожарная сирена, что "даже на корабль на горизонте докричится", по заявлением команд, что с ним плавали.

✨ Особенности: Падок на блестяшки, но знает меру. Использует свои выпавшие перья для письма. Обожает наряжаться пёстро. Гладкие и почти непромокаемые перья.

[sleepyfan-blog]

Curious Diversions

Author’s note: This was written for @au-roulette’s 2024 challenge! This is my Ren Fair AU fic! I hope you enjoy it. AO3 link here

Tagged: @egrets-not-regrets @the-pure-angel @whorety-k @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @i-am-a-dragon34

warnings: thoughts of conquest, please ask me to tag if something bothers you

Summary: Trai lands on a world full of mortals to decide whether or not to bring it under the protection of his warband.

Trai had been sent by his warband leader to explore the only potentially living world in the far-flung star system that they had come across. From initial scans of the world, there were certainly at least one if not multiple civilizations upon the world that lived there. From the amount of pollutants in the air, Trai was expecting that the world was semi-industrialized, and perhaps had very limited space-faring capabilities. There was certainly an irritating amount of space-trash that orbited around the world, just above the point at which the space trash would fall into the gravity well of the world. He had picked a relatively less-inhabited portion of one of the large land-masses. The area was populated enough that once he landed he would find mortals relatively quickly, but not so densely populated that his ship would be immediately spotted and potentially swarmed by curious, terrified and/or hostile natives. Especially if this world was inhabited not by humans, but xenos. Apart from the abundance of water - which could be seen from space - there were quite a few untapped resources upon this world that would be a significant boon to the warband... Not in the least bit were the roughly eight-billion mortals souls who called this world home...

Which was far less than a world like this could sustain, if they were concentrated into the correct Hive Cities, but much more than the meager numbers that the handful of feral and death worlds they'd come across in their recent travels and liberated them from their backwards ideals and into the worship of the true gods in the ways of Chaos Undivided. Higher tech level worlds like this were tricker to take over, as the arms and martial forces that they could bring to muster were often wary and unwilling to submit to new masters without at least one or a half-dozen bloody and wasteful battles. Still, his Legion when they had followed the Corpse Emperor had been able to get many worlds to come into compliance with their silver tongues alone, and when met with initial resistance, a swift and devastating show of force brought even the haughtiest into compliance. 

Trai was certain such tactics would bring this world into compliance with the warband. These mortals would be liberated of their false gods and fearful ideologies, and he and his warband would gain the resources this world had to offer. An excellent bargain in his mind. 

The Word Bearer meditated silently until his drop pod once more landed with a thud of metal on dirt. He waited another moment as the resulting shaking from landing stopped before standing up, stretching and leaving the pod, the door opening automatically as he drew in close. 

A small frown appeared on his face as he noted that he had landed not in the forest clearing he had intended, but in part of the large, grasslands next to it. The rolling hills did hide his drop pod from the nearby mortal settlement, but given that it was already mid-morning in this hemisphere, there was a good chance that he had been spotted at this distance by one or more of the mortals who lived there. Hopefully they had assumed that his drop pod had merely been a falling comet or asteroid that had landed nearby and was thus nothing important to immediately investigate. 

~

It did not take long for him to arrive at the nearby settlement. He paused, a small frown appearing on his face and he removed his helmet, just in case the sensors were glitching or were being fooled by some sort of technical illusion. Trai rubbed his eyes and activated one of the minor blessings that he had been gifted by one of The Four, the ability to Truly See through any deception or lie - magical or otherwise. It made his eyes glow with a holy red light and burned viciously, but... His surroundings stayed the same. Trai turned off the truesight before he closed his eyes, waiting until they healed to open them. 

Before him stood a brown painted castle wall that stretched a good hundred feet or so in one direction before taking an abrupt, ninety degree turn and continuing onwards. He could hear the sounds of mortals, music and laughter within the castle walls. Trai followed the castle wall until he found an entrance - which was wide open, with no gate or door of any kind in sight. There were several mortals dressed as knights on top of the battlements, though their armor did not look like metal, despite the way it shone in the light of the midday sun. It was too flexible and too light to be metal... or proper armor for that matter. The spears that they carried also appeared to be made out of some sort of painted foam, rather than anything that was actually damaging to a human being.

And there was a line of humans as they made their way into this strange castle. Some were dressed in plain cotton or linen shirts and pants. Others were dressed in very shiny and fancy fabric, obviously affecting nobility though the eagerness with which they talked with those around them belied their fancy dress. Others were wearing different kinds of material that was pretending to be metal or leather armor, but was clearly nonfunctional to Trai's expert eye. Still others were wearing cloaks of false-feathers and crowns of fake-flowers woven into their hair, carved or painted wooden staves in hand. 

Trai could taste the pollutants in the air. He could see a crude aircraft flying high in the sky, it's design and likely carrying capacity speaking to the true technology level of this world... Indeed, the very neat, tiny stitching on many pf the mortals clothing, the plastics and the evenness of the metal clasps and fastenings spoke to a greater amount of automation than a civilization that they were... pretending? To be could ever hope to match, unless they were trading with a far more advanced civilization. He knew that different parts of a world sometimes had differing levels of understanding of both the warp and technology... But this seemed startlingly extreme. The Word Bearer was fascinated by  what he had discovered and walked over to the group of mortals.

It did not take long for his larger than normal form and glorious armor to be spotted by them. But rather than being struck by transhuman dread at seeing a space marine - or the instinctual terror of seeing a *Chaos* Astartes such as he, the mortals peered up at him with open curiosity and earnest glee on their faces. Several teenage mortals from their size and slightly awkward way of moving rushed up to him, calling out to him in one of the local languages, the tongue flowing beautifully if incomprehensibly. They gestured to his armor, to his weapons, voices lilting in curiosity. 

Trai shook his head, a rueful smile appearing on his heavily tattooed face "I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I don't speak the language you're talking in."

The handful of teenage mortals chattered rapidly to one another for several minutes as several of the adults came wandering over. He could hear the awe and delight in their voices as they marveled at the sight of him, which made the space marine puff up and preen just a little. He was indeed a glorious creation and servant of the dark gods, and their clear joy and awe of such was gratifying. 

One of the mortal teenagers pulled out a small, handheld device, pressing a button and interacting with the screen for a couple of minutes, a small frown of concentration on their face. They then held up the device, clearly gestruing to Trai's lips a couple of times.

"Do... Do you want me to talk? I'm not certain what that device of yours is supposed to do. Is it a kind of auto-translator?" If so, that was an incredibly handy device to have, though he was unsure if he would be understood. While all of humanity had once come from Terra, and the languages that the mortals spoke on the many worlds that they had settled were once languages that had been spoken upon that ancient world, millenia of lingual drift had made conversing with worlds that had little to no contact with the corpse-emperor's imperium difficult. 

The mortal teen pulled the device back, clearly reading something on it. Their eyes lit up and they interacted with the device for several more moments before speaking into the device clearly and a little bit slower than their normal cadence. They pressed something on the interface of the device and a robotic sounding voice started to speak "My communication device has a translation feature on it, yes. Your armor and weapons look so cool and really detailed! How long did it take you to make them? I thought I had one of the more intricate costumes at this fair, but wow. Yours is really amazing. May I see your sword closer?"

"It took me many months to get my armor the way I liked it, and I do maintenance on it frequently, to keep the carved litanies intact. You may see my sword, but I'm not sure that you can lift it. It probably weighs more than you do. If you do not mind, I am... A stranger to these parts. Would you care to explain this fair you mentioned?"

"You're not here for the historical fair? It's not like there's much around here but the fair for a couple of miles, unless your automated vehicle broke down... and I'm not sure where else you might be going dressed like that. Unless you're headed to one of the Paper Entertainment Conventions? You do kind of look like a mechanized robot fictional character of some kind. Your tattoos are really cool too! Are they just on your face?" The teenager asked through the little translation device, moving a little closer to Trai, showing not an ounce of fear or anxiety as they approached.

... This world must truly have not had any contact with the corpse-god's Imperium. Which was fantastic for his warband, although he would need to talk to Amadus, the leader of the warband before revealing more of why he was really here. But for now... Why not indulge their questions a little and get a bit better of an understanding of the nature of the mortals soon to be under his protection? An indulgent smile appeared on his face as he said "I have tattoos all over my body, as a matter of fact. What is this historical fair about?"

"It's a way for us to explore a different time in our world's history, sort of. Mostly it's an excuse to camp with a bunch of other people, eat different foods, drink different drinks and look at the crafts that others have made to sell! Also to see different kinds of demonstrations. The big ones today are a demonstration on how medieval canons worked at mid-day and a fire-dancer after dusk. There are smaller events as well, learning how to tie different kinds of knots, swordsmanship exhibitions. Sea shanty competitions, stuff like that. I've been going here for three years now, and the entertainment changes from year to year, but it's always a lot of fun. And it's an excuse to dress up differently than normal, too!" They gesture to the colorful outfit they were wearing, beaming proudly at their creation. It looked like they were wearing a dress of differently colored leaves in different shades of brown, yellow and orange. They were also wearing a cloak of fake feathers and had a hand-carved wooden staff that was nearly as long as they were tall. they were also wearing a mid-sized leather pouch, from which the translation device had come from.

"The handiwork on the dress is remarkable, and did you make that bag yourself? I know a couple of cousins of mine who would kill for the ability to make leather stitching that small and even." Trai asked earnestly, allowing himself to be drawn into the mixed group of teens and adult baseline humans, able to communicate with them through the translator. One of them was kind enough to pay his entrance fee as they showed him around this charmingly anachronistic representation of a medieval space. It was far cleaner and less terrified and desperate as such worlds tended to be, but he kept that bit of information to himself. There was no reason to ruin their fun. 

Trai spent several pleasant hours interacting with these mortals, learning more about their larger culture as well as their individual passionate interests, genuinely fascinated by each of them. He stepped away when they were all distracted by the demonstration with the canons to inform Amadus about what he had found on this world, and the initial receptiveness with which he had been treated by the locals - though none of them were any sort of ruler. From what he had learned, this world was ruled by several dozen large nation states that did not get along with one another, often getting into border skirmishes and proxy wars in weaker nation-states for resources and to prove who had the best weapons or some similar sorts of nonsense. An overt invasion would likely unite these nation-states against them, which would prove to be annoying. But they did have a couple of Alpha Legionnaires in the warband... and it had been some time since they'd stretched their particular sets of skills. Toppling the world order and gaining control of a single world was well within the capabilities of the pair of them, particularly with the rest of the warband ready to help as needed. 

It may take a couple of decades, but in the grand scheme of things, that was not long for an Astartes. Besides, with the absolute mess that the Imperium of Man was, there was little chance that they would be noticed by any of the corpse-worshippers long before they had this world in thrall. 

[fairytail-whathesays]

okay but I NEED to know your orga/laxus relationship headcanons, nsfw, etc. (if it's okay with you ofc) because this is the best ship that nobody talks about

Oh babe we need more like you in Fairy Tail fandom

So I talked about godslaying magic here, in this post about Zancrow, and wrote it as having a lot to do with how psychotic and violent Zancrow is. I also happen to believe proto-dragonization has a lot to do with exacerbating the effects of Laxus' burgeoning mental breakdown that had its tipping point in the Fantasia arc. I also wrote that those negative effects feed into themselves the more the godslaying magic is used.

This poses problems for both of them, especially Orga, who doesn't have purely elemental lightning magic to fall back onto like Laxus, and is highly incentivized to use his magic frequently by the hype that sustains Sabertooth.

I think they'll have enough ease getting along just due to chemistry in their personalities, but needing help doesn't hurt, nor does:

These two probably bonded very very quickly. Not only were they all but flirting in the leadup to their GMG fight, but they both have a love of music that is very noticeable, like their punk aesthetics, and are very lowkey otherwise. Can Orga sing? Debatable. Will he be a hell of a lot of fun at karaoke? Yes.

I think their first fling happens relatively early into their friendship. Honestly a bit of a speed record for friends-to-friends-with-benefits. It was a natural course for them--they are the ultimate masc4masc fuckboi hookup.

And maybe it's through that fling that they discover something pretty useful; Dragonslaying magic and "godslaying" magic (corrupted/cursed dragonslaying magic) have an inherent opposing quality, almost like a positive and negative charge.

And by fighting each other and kissing each other, and just being around each other, they can temper their internal magic's discharge-like backlash that causes brain degeneration. Doctor approved!

No really they probably went to Porlyusica and she told them to keep hanging out.

This would also handily explain why corrupted brain degeneration isn't affecting Chelia either, since she hangs out with Wendy so much.

It's a slow thing, but that friends-with-benefits angle slowly deepens for them, especially with Orga, who originally thought of Laxus as just a very powerful mage in a powerful guild. Laxus may be something of a thug, but he's also well-read, introspective, and respects history, and it makes Orga want to improve himself.

Their fights get brutal. Not even arguments, because they rarely have them, but their sparring matches pursued just for fun. They are both very competitive, and unused to being challenged on an even footing. Orga actually being able to hurt Laxus makes up any difference in their power easily.

Laxus ends up with significant extents of lightning scars. Yeah yeah, Laxus with lightning scars, we've all seen those posts--but consider that a) Orga feels horrified when he sees them later and b) Laxus has to shout them down because he actually thinks they look sick as fuck and he loves them. They're dark, too, black like Orga's lightning before they fade to normal a few days later, so it's like getting more tattoos.

I like to think that Orga has a deeply-hidden romantic side. He's probably into cooking, has an instagram where he posts the supermodel equivalent of foodinsta, looking oh so delicious. He likes to write lyrics, too. Laxus gets into that stuff--he could sit for hours and watch Orga pore over a set of verses he wrote himself (and maybe even help) or watch him dither trying to make a three-hour meal for two people (and help because he feels guilty).

Orga's nickname in Sabertooth is "big bro" by the young'uns, or "uncle" when they feel like disrespecting him. When he officially becomes a thing with Laxus, this also extends to him, and much like they do with Cobra, Sting and Rogue slap Laxus with the big bro label.

When you spend that much time around another person, both because they heal you physically and because they heal you socially, you start to learn them. Every little intimate detail. For Laxus and Orga, that means not only learning each other's scent, but learning each other's "scent" (how they appear when being picked up via electroreception) and even how the other's lightning tends to sound when far away.

The instas go wiiiiiiild babey. The thirsty gays were already congregating around the two but when they start appearing in each other's stories??? Absolute hoe madness in the comments. The twinks are dying. Someone send help. Modeling contracts are flooding in. Constant requests to start an OF together.

Laxus is openly bisexual and Orga is openly gay, but neither one of them has ever been huge or loud about it. But they do go to their first Pride together, and it's a great experience for both of them. Orga in particular feels like he's being rewired in the best way being there.

You'll just have to send a separate ask for the ns/fw part bc it's long enough to be its own post and I also got

filthy with it

[heroictoonz]

Febuwhump 2022 Day 10: "How Long Had It Been?"

Ships: Ben & Dexter & Steven

Warnings: N/A

AO3 L!nk in the Comments!

It was night when the doors to the lab opened. Light wafted in from the hall. Dexter’s eyes squinted with a frown at the sudden glare against his computer screen. With a groan of annoyance he whipped around in his seat to face the intruder. As usual he fully expected his pink clad elder sister. Her inquisitive ways always causing him nothing more than annoyance. Doubled with the fact that she could never keep her hands to herself. Though, in their older years there was a better respect for boundaries, she still had a bad habit of falling back on old ways.

Instead, Dexter was not met with the wide and curious eyes of his sibling, but instead, the mixed expressions of both Steven Universe and Ben Tennyson.

Steven Universe and Ben Tennyson were both odd in their own respects. Dexter could not lie in his fascination of their respective ties to extraterrestrial life. Steven, a half breed of human and an alien race called Gems and Ben, wielder of the Omnytrix, a device able to reform his DNA into that of multiple alien species. Yet, even past his scientific curiosity he would be willing to go so far as to call them his friends.

Their presence was not nearly as much of an annoyance as Dede’s; however it was still a hindrance to his work. He gave a sigh and leaned back into his chair. Rubbing at his eyes from under his glasses before giving them both an exasperated look. “What is it?” he questioned.

Steven’s eyes darted towards Ben before turning back to Dexter. He held a sad expression. No. Maybe sad was not the right word. Steven was always a very emotional man; Dexter noted. His face tended to always show off his thoughts like a clear window to his mind. A myriad of emotions constantly littered the hybrid’s features at any given moment. The idea of his heart living on his sleeve was incorrect, Dexter believed. Instead, it was much more likely that the letterman he wore almost religiously was made from the very thread of the man’s own soul. However, the amount of emotions all at once could also be a challenge to read. Instead of just one thought or feeling, everything was on constant display. Picking out what Steven was showing off was like deciphering a code in some cases.

Ben however, was a bit easier to get a read on. As his emotions tended to be relatively simplistic when they presented outwardly. Though, with his history, Dexter doubted his emotions were anything simple. But, when Ben was open with them they were much easier to understand. So, Dexter turned to the other in this case, hoping a better answer would lay in his features.

Ben’s own face showed a type of frustration. One that seemed intertwined with another emotion altogether. However, Dexter was not sure if he recognized it very well. Though, it was a similar one to whatever was entangled in Steven’s own furrowed brows.

“I read many languages,” Dexter began again with a huff. “Silence is not one of them.”

Steven frowned at that before finally speaking up, “When was the last time you slept?”

The question caught Dexter off guard. Slept? That was easy, he… Oh. Well, he knew he had taken some sort of a rest at some point. He vaguely recalled napping some odd number of hours ago. Even so, what did it matter? And of what concern was it to Steven or even Ben? He shook his head and gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “I sleep like a child nightly,” he lied. “Now if that is all you need-”

“How long has it been since you ate?” Ben stepped in next. “Like seriously ate. Like an actual meal.”

Dexter frowned at him in annoyance. What was this? An interrogation? “I do not know what it is the two of you are getting at, but my well being is of no one's concern but my own.”

Suddenly a buzzing sound started up as the gentle blue light fuzzed into existence behind him. Computress’ voice spoke, “It has been approximately seventy-two hours since Dexter’s last meal aside from coffee drank at 6:47am this morning. In the last four days he has slept approximately seven hours total.”

Dexter snapped to look over to the AI with a frown. “Betrayed by my own computer,” he grumbled to himself.

“Seriously, Dex?” Ben sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. Dexter registered what seemed to be disappointment both in his voice and expression.

“And this is why we’re here!” Steven declared with a smile. “You work yourself way too hard and we’re gonna make you take breaks from here on out.”

“Starting now,” Ben added on as Steven grabbed Dexter’s hands and pulled him from his seat.

“Hold it!” Dexter hissed out and he yanked his hands back. “Who do you two think you are? Barging into my lab and telling me what to do. I can take care of my own well being and it is of no concern to either of you.”

It was Ben’s turn to glance at Steven. That expression Dexter couldn’t pin down had returned to both of them. Ben then shook his head and replied, “We’re your friends, Dex. We’re always gonna be concerned about you.”

“Especially when you’re close to working yourself sick,” Steven added.

Dexter’s form straightened with a realization. That emotion in their faces. The one he had ignored due to the inability to name it. He suddenly realized what it was. Worry.

Dexter looked from the other two then back to his work. As if reading his thoughts, Computress’ voice buzzed back to life. “All current work has been saved under the proper files. Any new Fuse research has been sent to Mandark for peer review and his response is estimated to arrive sometime tomorrow morning. This means you are free for the rest of the night.”

“So,” Steven said with a smile. “You can relax for a bit!”

“Honestly, you deserve to. You do a lot,” Ben continued. “Maybe a bit too much on your own.”

Dexter gave a sigh. “Fine. I will rest for the night.”

Ben and Steven smiled at each other in success before each grabbing one of Dexter’s hands, leading him out of the lab.

[sharpsuite]

This might be a bit of a messy post so bear with me as I try to explain this complicated perspective Chishiya has on matters. I've talked about Chishiya's relationship with different forms of intimacy in a few posts, most notably this one where I discuss the vast range of intimacy from familial to platonic to romantic. But I want to discuss it a little bit more in detail when it pertains to certain GESTURES & ACTIONS and his perspective on matters in both platonic and potential romantic bonds. While again, I did iterate in both the previously linked post and other relevant headcanons, and it's not a main focus of this post, Chishiya is asexual, sex-neutral and then sex-positive in the case of romantic involvements but all this also to be with noted with the fact he's never pursued romantic or sexual activities. (Sans, of course those that develop in rp). While some of these acts are clearly for shipping partners, the subject of this post FOCUSES ON BOTH PLATONIC and romantic aspects so it is worth reading ( I think) even without shipping.

When it comes to gestures, those without clear gain are MORE VULNERABLE to him than certain 'typical' intimate acts. Something like a platonic or romantic hug or kissing the top of his head when cuddling is more likely to shake him and stun him into silence than a kiss on the lips. Because there's no clear gain. Because simple gestures of affection without necessarily wanting or needing anything in turn are foreign to him. It's a gesture driven purely by emotion and silent communication. With something like kissing on the lips, there's still an aspect of CONTROL AND POWER and those are familiar things to him. Whether the kiss is intended to escalate into a more physical act or not, there's usually something to gain in his view. Maybe it is just driven by great emotion ; he knows that. But as I mentioned above ; he's neutral and even when he's favorable, acts like that are not a NECESSITY for him the way it is for most people, even if he does enjoy it. To put it simple, he feels he STILL HAS CONTROL in some aspects with gestures like that, but he doesn't with more casual gestures. Chishiya is a manipulator and he likes being in control. Power plays make him feel relatively safe even when someone is testing it or challenging him ( which he does like if they're capable of it ).

HE DOESN'T HAVE THAT POWER PLAY / DYNAMIC WITH CASUAL GESTURES. For Chishiya, it's like being taken from the saltwater of the ocean to being dumped in a fresh water lake. Chishiya doesn't have experience with casual affection. His family wasn't affectionate, and he neither had nor was interested in genuine friends. He had no PERSONAL exposure to platonic, familiar, or romantic gestures. Most of what he knows simply is from media - and as we all know, media doesn't often show those forms IN DEPTH the way it does romantic bonds. And when media does, Chishiya's always thought 'oh that probably feels like nothing'. Why would he think otherwise? UNTIL HE EXPERIENCES IT HIMSELF. Because what does he do when he's suddenly being hugged because someone genuinely cared? Yes he knows how to hug but the emotional impact of it tends to short circuit his head a bit. Or when someone kisses your head as you fall asleep? When they grab your hands to hold just because? All of that rattles him. There's no power angle here, nothing to have control over. It's different if HE'S manipulating someone or he knows someone is trying to manipulate him. But when it isn't? When he knows it is very genuine? Little gestures are far more vulnerable. Sex can be just physical in theory (not that he's interested in that) and there's power in that. Plus, bodies are bodies. It's not a big deal to him. But something like people openly expressing affection - platonic or romantic - openly showcasing their own vulnerability ? It always hits hard.

And let's not even get started with the topic of someone else's family that'd welcome him and show him how most families are. JUST KIDDING, WE ARE. Ironically, in some ways, this is more likely to make him balk than anything else. I've mentioned in this post (and ofc the above one) about Chishiya's ties with family. It's tense and he's basically rejected it, calling them nothing but strangers he shares genetics with. So if someone else's family (friend or partner) was very welcoming and the classic 'make you feel a part of the family', it's EXTREMELY OVERWHELMING for him. He's forced to face the resentment he's long forgotten, but it also makes him feel like that much of a flawed human being, THAT MUCH of the empty shell he wonders if he is. It's not that he doesn't like it or care, if he cares about someone enough to meet their family then he does care. He wants to make a good impression. But it's something he need to be GRADUALLY EXPOSED TO, given time to deal or at least be able to step away for an hour or so to collect himself. It's....sad really. Because he can do without romance, he can do without sex, he can do without friends. And he can do without family too, but he knows what family is theoretically like. And even though he tries to say he doesn't care, he claims and believes it, being exposed forces him to confront long buried and forgotten thoughts and feelings. Plus he isn't openly emotional so it's a bit awkward for him as well. It would be good, I think, in time. But it is very, very hard on him in a way nothing else really is when it comes to intimacy and caring of others.

[sleepymushrxxm]

@lycankeyy now your worldbuilding makes me want to flesh out my penillian ideas. Wtf.

I don't have any good drawings on hand right now but here's some incoherent unedited ramblings

These are just adding onto or tweaking the things we already know about them.

Background.

Penillians used to be an aquatic prey species. The species evolved rapidly to the point of outcompeting the others around them, and they quickly wiped out most of the creatures that once hunted them. The have become the ruling apex species of their planet, and only kept around the species that benefit them. Any magic or abilities they have are not their own, including their major shape-shifting abilities. Most normal Penillians can do is change the shape of their jaw, frills, spines, and horns. Which leads us into our next topic,

Physiology.

The reason many of them have frills and spines was to protect young Penillians from attacks to the throat by the creatures that hunted them, and they never fully devolved them, as well as the frills once behaving similarly to fins or gills. They have small horns that are mostly useless. The reason the species grew to the size they did is the increased amount of oxygen in the air, similar to the reason insects grew so big in the Cambrian period. They are covered in gray scales, the ones around their chest and forearms practically impenetrable by any means. Their tusks are often curved inwards or downwards, though may curve similar to elephants. This is known as the Emperor Gene, and causes changes in the facial structure and bones. This may cause difficulties in young Penillians, and most often don't survive past adolescence. Those that do are often revered. Their tusks are often adorned with jewels and decorative items.

Penillians are mainly carnivorous, but are technically omnivores. Their large teeth are sharp and serrated like a shark's. They are a top-heavy species with long arms and shorter legs, with a long finned tail. Their eyes behave very similar to a cat's.

Penillians heal incredibly fast. Their brains are wired to survive longer periods of time in the case of oxygen deprivation, and they can hold their breath for long periods of time, even after losing their gills. Their bones are denser than most other species. The inside of their mouths are purple like their blood.

(sorry for the shit quality I drew this with my finger on my phone-)

Society.

There are different factions of Penillians on their planet, but they are ruled by a false oligarchy, simply a cover-up for a dictatorship or a monarchy. The ruler typically wears a twisted silver and ruby crown, a resource that is incredibly rare on their planet. In order for a new leader of the group of the wealthy few to be chosen, a "royal" challenged must be declared by a relative, usually by an offspring or sibling, with some exceptions. Peace treaties with the Penillians are rare. They rarely wear anything (please, at least put some pants on....), but they usually wear cloaks to formal events, which are also rare. Some cloaks are thicker than others, but those are usually reserved for ship pilots. Cold vacuum of space, y'know?

Their laws are strict, and the death penalty is more common than one would think.

Planet.

Their planet used to be lush and covered in large oceans. However, after most species were wiped out, the world began to die. Plants and animals alike began to perish and fall into extinction. The reason they had their sights set for earth was because it was similar to what their own used to be, with more natural resources. The planet they live on is functionally dead, and would completely crumble if it weren't for them. The Penillians are a necessary evil, if you will.

Any questions? You have a question? No. DEATH BLAST

[springcrafter]

I cannot believe I have to ask this of people (nobody here that I know of, otherwise you'd be contacted personally, but I've seen enough). Please don't trivialize this war by bringing fandom attitudes into them.

This is serious. I can speak for the Jewish Israeli side of things, that the foundations of everything everyone here ever believed are being tested in a degree unseen in our country's entire existence. I cannot tell you what I believe and what I don't anymore - this is existential to degrees I cannot compare to any event other than 9/11 and many of you are too young to remember that. Life as we knew it doesn't exist anymore. I will not pretend to speak for the Palestinian people because I'm not Palestinian, but I know them to be facing horrors beyond most people's understanding, particularly in Gaza.

This is no joke, and no talking point. This is an ongoing conflict that radically challenges the status quo for every involved side; too many of the chips have yet to fall, and personally I don't believe anything I'm told beyond the barest irrefutable facts. Misinformation and propaganda are rampant on both sides, and that's an insult to the truth and each and every victim. It gets worse when people with zero stakes in the matter get involved and turn our suffering into yet another point of debate to virtue-signal and boost their ego and pretend they're better than the person they're talking to.

I've had to see people with my own two eyes treat this as a shipping war or as another partisan issue to fight with your uncle over on Christmas dinner. Attempts to "pick" aside or to "help me convince [relative]" or "how can I rebuke [point]?", basically twisting reality into knots to make it fit your Western little heads.

Major yikes. It's bizarre and invasive and borderline appropriative, to think of our issues on your terms, and try to shape cherry-pick these narratives to suit your set of morals. These are Middle Eastern peoples (check Israeli demographics and my Ashkie DNA if you think I'm pulling that out of my ass) with our own cultures and sets of beliefs, and a conflict with an incredibly unique history and reason to be.

(For example, something I wish people understood is how diametrically opposed the notions of pikuach nefesh and jihad are. Pikuach Nefesh is Judaism's most important tenet - human life comes before everything and anything and it is our duty to do whatever it takes to save a life. Jihad is, as explained to me by several Muslim people, is a pillar of Islam and encompasses the idea of martyrdom, or basically that there are things worth dying for, and things one must die for. These principles factor on how both sides deal with warfare and it's a fascinating thing to talk about - but you'd never know if you only care about this war to boost your ego).

So what I'm about to say below goes tenfold if you're from the wealthy Anglosphere or the seat of a former European empire, because the state of the Middle East is your leadership's fault and you, yes you, have been doing absolutely nothing to hold your elected officials accountable. You also benefit directly from the instability in the region your countries caused (by keeping us powerless, yours are more powerful) and you have the privilege to sleep safe and sound and know war never will come to you. So here it goes:

Bringing selfish and trivial attitudes into a very real issue that affects real people that isn't you is a complete moral wrong. If you don't have a direct stake in the issue (ie. Israeli, Palestinian, or descendent of either) and have the absolute privilege of not having experienced war yourself (ie. lived in an active war zone for real personally in unequivocal terms) please take several steps back and a goddamn seat. This is not about you, your need to virtue-signal, and your feelings.