#same with some figures i got. i had a nice bleach collection and they were all broken due to rough cleaning

[haarute]

something i realized in the recent years is that while my mom is a very nice person and i can understand why she is the way that she is sometimes, she had a history of always dismissing and throwing away things that were important to me, and in hindsight that certainly had an effect on both my trust in her and how much i was willing to ever share, and also just turned me into a dumpster goblin because i just gave up on ever having nice things so why bother ever caring about my personal space at all ✌️ i'll just live in the filth because we'll never have anything better after all !!

[bleachbleachbleach]

For the fanfic ask game! (14) If you could see one of your fics adapted into a visual medium, such as comic or film, which fan fic would you pick? (and also which medium) (17) What’s something you’ve learned about while doing research for a fic? (30) Ask anything! Who is your current favorite character to write?

Fic Writing Meme

(14) If you could see one of your fics adapted into a visual medium, such as comic or film, which fan fic would you pick? (and also which medium)

I have strongly considered making a graphics package for REVERSE THE BONE that’s just like, all the material culture ephemera Hinamori collected over the course of the Train Job—Kira’s map, packaging and flyers from Iwatobi, a tourism map of East Rukongai complete with stamp rally, the Takenoyu business card… I love that kind of in-universe graphic design, and I’d already made the train tickets. Buuuut if I made more graphics, it would take that time away from writing.

Other than that, I always think of D O N K I in visual terms, because Hitsugaya spends so much of that fic being overstimulated by Worm TVs and weird cups and fast trains and, of course, Don Quijote itself. It’s a fairly melancholy fic, but the visuals that attend it all are so absurd I feel like it would be cool to see in a visual medium that could really play with that contrast. Maybe one of those books where you can pull new elements into the scene via pull tab, or open little doors, or initiate fancy pop-ups! THERE’S A DONKI AT THE END OF THIS BOOK:

(Kyoto May 2023) "That's just the aesthetic of any dollar store" YEAH but you can buy perishable prepared foods inside this one somewhere! (By the socks.)

(17) What’s something you’ve learned about while doing research for a fic?

I wrote a post-TYBW fic that involved spending a lot of time burying bodies in mass graves, because the only divisions that got mentioned as cremating their dead were the 11th and the 4th. The body burying happened for the ~vibes and because it didn’t occur to me to think about it, and it wasn’t until after writing it that I had the thought that like, oh hm, why wouldn’t everyone be cremated? Because in my mind Japan is a country of cremation. So I assumed for years that the whole fic was based on a flawed premise, and oh well, it’s Soul Society so it does whatever I want it to, I’ll live with that.

But then when writing the Train Fic, I looked up how bodies might be transported, and what kinds of receptacles were used. And I was like, well, it’s really not going to be the same visual if it’s just a bunch of boxes of ashes, lol. But in my reading, I learned that the dominance of cremation in Japan is super recent! Like mid-20th century recent! And my perception otherwise is a very Buddhist bias! After that, I ended up starting research in the Yayoi period and working my way forward, because I figured I’d get the full historical picture and then decide how I wanted to imagine Soul Society’s version of that swathe of history, since I figured 1) lifespan difference might result in some pre-Edo holdovers when it comes to the basics, and 2) Soul Society wasn’t going to have the same socio-historical pressures driving change, so in those instances where they were choosing to model things they did after the Living World, they probably also just cherry-picked whatever they vibed with lol.

Anyhow, this was a cool, short, pretty cute video about ancient burial practices and burial jars!

(30) Ask anything! Who is your current favorite character to write?

HAHA realistically, whoever’s feeling collaborative and is willing to be nice to me. 🥺 But in the extremely *likely* scenario where someone puts a gun to my head and says "you have to write a Bleach fic right now, while we watch, or we shoot you!" I’d probably choose to do it with Matsumoto.

Because she’s patronized one Junrinan confectionary at least one time, and was excited about Orihime’s cooking, and loves shopping and celebrations of all kinds, and learned traditional dance despite obviously not growing up in The Scene, my mind has kind of spun Matsumoto into someone who sees a lot of value in experiencing and learning about different cultures (which in her context primarily means Rukongai districts), and it’s fun to write her interfacing with all these things. She doesn’t seem to have strong ties to the district she came from, necessarily, but I feel like she has strong values around recognizing Rukongai at large as a real place with infinite cultural particularities—particularities she wants to honor and know about—not just a blank slate waypoint.

Closer to canon, she has so many interesting relationships with people all across the board, you can kind of bring her into any situation and she’ll probably have some kind of generative connection to it. I also love that even though she’s open to conversations that might be really difficult OR down to clown, she also has a private core that she doesn’t share, and it can be really fun to play with that dialogism when narrating from her POV. She’s just a really good time all around!

[frosty-oak]

Sevenish English students and fiveish jugs of Pim’s

First act

I was in a Bristol Wetherspoon’s the other night (the one by Will’s if you’re a student), out for a drink to celebrate finishing my first essay. Three of five people had cancelled on me but I was determined to make friends and be sociable. While waiting at the bar I was telling the one person who had arrived that she had a very nice jacket, and the red converses (matching mine) were a nice touch. I worried that it seemed like I was flirting, so I made an offhand, not-very-subtle comment about my girlfriend, mostly because women do love my awkward charm and confused dress sense, but especially because of my strong feminist values (and social anxiety.) Once I finally had my pint of (really very cheap and slightly crap) Thatchers, we managed to find the only other person who had actually shown up; luckily with a host of friends. I awkwardly sat at the edge, introduced myself to five or so people, forgot all of their names and tried not to stare at the huge amount of empty glasses and pitchers on the table.

Main course

I began to stereotype slash categorise everyone at the table, deciding that Mary (not her real name) definitely listened to Lana Del Ray, and Harvey (not a real name either!) was a film buff who stumbled into the interesting side of socially clumsy. He also had a tendency to ask me about a selection of interesting films and books in rapid succession which went a little like this:

“Theo (that one is a real name), have you ever seen The Piano Teacher?”

“No sorry, why is it good?”

“Its alright. Whiplash?”

“Oh yeah that one was really good.”

“Hmm. Okay.”

And then the conversation would move elsewhere, I still haven’t figured out if there was a connection or he was just understanding/categorising me in his own way. Mary was then told off for vaping inside, it turns out that Spoons is surprisingly strict on the rules, as any seventeen year old trying to stay past nine PM will discover.

Chapter three

Things then took an interesting turn somewhere between ordering my second pint and it still not bloody arriving nine minutes later. Timothy (that ones definitely not her name, I’m bad at aliases) was telling us about her ‘type’ for some reason or other, and this was when my long standing theory  that an amazing amount of people have terrible taste in men was proved right. Timothy (I will get a better name eventually) described her type as “tall” going fine so far “brown hair” still fine “and emotionally unavailable” and oh dear we’ve fucked it. Someone else then said that they had a thing for men who were “mostly not into me” which is funny but also just bad, but then I was asked and got lots of brownie points by saying “my girlfriend” and showing a picture of her looking as gorgeous as ever (I normally get her to edit these so hi darling!) Despite what you might guess though, Timothy’s love-life is going absolutely fine! I’m kidding she committed flatcest immediately and then he shagged his ex the same day, and also he’s just a dick in general.

The fourth bit.

It was about when my pint finally did arrive and Mary had been warned for the last time, again, not to vape indoors that two new people arrived who looked a tiny bit like GTA characters. There was a bloke called Jacob or something (that actually might be his name I’m quite bad with names) and he had thick rimmed glasses and was unbelievably Bristol with his third Gallagher brother look and most importantly he started telling me about how he was doing a DJ set at a local club that was only for members. Which actually sounded like a lovely time but also unbelievably Bristol. He arrived with his friend who was the other side of the Bristol coin, with a collection of necklaces and bracelets along with bleached eyebrows. I didn’t actually manage to chat to her much but I did hear the stream of indie-post-pre-punk-queer-grunge-pop-indie bands that were being discussed and sounded quite good.

Around this time someone called smoke break and everyone disappeared and I quickly realised I was being left with a selection of coats and bags as I sat awkwardly (and slightly pissed as I had been to the bar to get a pint repeatedly) and waited for everyone to arrive so I could make my exit. Everyone has had that moment, generally in a bathroom but when you are quite drunk and are suddenly left with your thoughts and time sloooows doooowwwwwnn. Suddenly you are desperately trying to find entertainment in anything nearby, waiting for Instagram to load because somehow this corner of Spoons is a faraday cage. Just after the nearest ice age had came and went Mary reappeared and I made to leave but she convinced me to stay just a little longer until everyone else arrived.

The Final Act

In the final act of the night, we sat and discussed the tense, difficult and upsetting situation with her ex, which despite the many pints between us was actually a very interesting conversation. Unfortunately we were cut short by the bouncer arriving directly as Mary had raised her vape to her lips and he slowly marched over. Fair cop, and he was very lovely about it but we did have to go. I hovered outside and made a bit of chat as people smoked and finally said my goodbyes and headed for home. Uphill of course, its Bristol.

[annenhypen]

Falling

jay x reader

high school au! strangers to friends to lovers au!

word count: 2.8k

writer’s note: this is the longest work i have written so far and I ENJOYED WRITING IT SO MUCH! I really want to write drabbles for this pairing if this does well!!! let me know what you guys think.

tags: @gratefulmaria @azeugirdor @eggbutnotyolk @jungwon-luv-bot-pt3

Before Meeting Him

You and your boyfriend, Daniel, had a steady relationship. Growing up together and ending up going to the same schools, it was like you guys were destined to be together. You were best friends until one day he asked you out and decided to change your title to his “girlfriend”.

You were seated next to him in the first period as he turned his head to face you.

“I heard there’s a new transfer student in our class” he informed you, causing your eyebrows to shoot up. Students rarely changed schools in the beginning of the senior year, so you got curious about the new presence in your class.

He entered the classroom on his first day, dressed in a black hoodie in contrast to his bleached hair but matching his black jeans. Every clothing he put on that day was black except for the four silver rings he put on his hands. He stood next to your teacher and introduced himself to the class. Despite his dark style, he introduced himself with a bright smile that caught your attention for a little too long. Jay. His name fits his appearance you thought. You watched him walk to the only empty seat in the classroom which was the seat in front of your boyfriend who was sitting next to you. You looked away when he made eye contact with you, catching you staring at him.

Meeting Him

Turns out that Jay was not just your classmate. He was also the son of the family who moved in next door. You were surprised to see him open the door when your mother sent you to give your new neighbors a welcome gift, freshly-baked chocolate chip cookies. You collected yourself and smiled brightly, holding out the plate filled with cookies in front of you.

“Hello, I am Y/N. I live next door and my mother sent these for you to say welcome to our neighborhood.” you explained, finally looking at his eyes. He smiled back at you, taking the plate out of your hands.

“Thank you so much, it’s very nice of her and you. I am Jay. I am pretty sure we are classmates as well.” he answered. You nodded at him.

“I’ll see you in class then” you said and took one step back to go back to your house. You saw him wave a goodbye at you before turning around.

An Offer

Many things were unpredictable in your life. For example, you never expected your relationship with Daniel to come to an end so quickly but it did. You also did not expect your long term friendship with your -now- ex boyfriend to get ruined, following your break-up. You were still seated next to each other in class but you rarely talked. He never texted you about anything other than your classes. It was a hard time for both of you. You were sad because losing a friend who has been there all along was not easy to take it in.

“I am going to assign all of you into study groups today. I am expecting you guys to meet outside of class to encourage each other to study for the upcoming exams” announced your homeroom teacher on the third Friday of your senior year, causing your classmates to whine to voice their complaints out. You opened your notebook as you waited for your name to be called.

“Ruby, Luke, Y/N, Jay and Daniel, you guys are Team B” you heard your teacher added after checking his journal.

Here’s how these “study groups” worked: every group member had to do their best and get a good grade on the exams. After the exams week, the average grade for each team was calculated by your teacher and the team with the highest average score received a prize in return. This way, your teacher made sure everyone helped each other to increase the average grade for their teams.

“Make sure to exchange phone numbers and make a group chat to discuss your study plans and meetings” your teacher suggested.

You pulled out a loose-leaf and tapped on Jay’s shoulder who was seating in front of Daniel. He looked back with a questioning expression.

“Write your phone number down and pass the paper to Ruby” you confided and he nodded back at you before taking the paper from your hands. You took the paper back after Ruby and Luke wrote their numbers down. Of course you did not have to ask for Daniel’s number.

“I’ll create a group chat after school, we can discuss the details there” you reported, gaining a nod from every member of your study group.

You were a competitive student. Your grades were always above average and these study group contests made you even more ambitious. As nerdy as it sounded, you wanted to make sure everyone in your team performed well on the upcoming exams.

You knew Ruby was a bright student. Daniel studied regularly as well. Luke was okay as far as you knew. However, you did not know about Jay’s academics. You were determined to learn about it and help him if he needed your help.

“Hey Jay, do you want to walk home together after school?” you asked, smiling politely. He turned to you in surprise and took a look at Daniel’s face. He smirked at Daniel’s clenched jaw and accepted your offer.

Plans

You saw Jay playing with his phone in front of the school gates when you exited the school building. He was wearing his leather jacket, making you look like a child next to him with your fluffy pastel pink cardigan and white outfit. He put his phone into his back pocket when you reached his side.

“You ready?” he questioned looking down at your face. You looked so short compared to his tall figure. You felt intimidated by his eyes and chose to look down at your shoes before nodding your head.

“So… How are you?” he asked, breaking the dead silence as you walked side by side.

“I’m good. I should ask you how you are. Were you able to get used to living here?” you asked, feeling, less nervous as you walked.

“Yes… Actually, I couldn't explore much since I don’t have many friends around here and I usually just go to school and return home during the week” he explained and scratched the back of his neck in embarrassment. I probably sound like a loser, he thought. You thought for a little before speaking again.

“Hey, I can show you around this weekend if you want? I didn’t have anything planned anyway. Also, this is like the last weekend we can enjoy before studying for the exams. That is… if you want to, of course… I get it if you don’t-“ your rambling got interrupted by Jay’s little chuckle. Cute, he thought.

“I would like that,” he answered. You couldn’t help but smile at his acceptance of your invitation.

“This is kind of random but do you like pancakes?” you asked out of nowhere.

“Who doesn’t like pancakes?” he answered your question with another question causing you to chuckle. I already like this guy, you thought.

“Alright, then we can go to this local diner I know for breakfast tomorrow and start our little tour afterwards” you suggested while looking at him to wait for his answer.

“Alright, sounds like a plan” he concluded. Jay couldn’t help but think how much he wanted this “little tour” of yours to be an actual date.

Getting to Know Him

“Oh you should meet Mr. Bubbles” you insisted as you watched Jay take another bite of his blueberry pancakes. You wanted to introduce your fat Scottish fold to your new friend who apparently loves cats.

“I would love to…But unfortunately, I am allergic to cats” he replied, looking a little sad. You felt the need to comfort him inside you.

“Don’t be so sad! I can just show him to you through the window of my room” you suggested. You heard his small chuckle before nodding at your direction.

From this morning, you learned that Jay is not as intimidating as he looked from outside. He moved to your town from Seattle because of his father’s job. He was good at subjects like English and History but he said he could use some help with Math. His favorite genre of music was Rock and he took dance classes back in Seattle. He was interested in fashion and he liked cats. He had an easygoing personality and a pretty smile- wait, a big smile you meant.

In addition, Jay learned that you liked many more things other than studying: you enjoyed watching romantic comedies the most but one of your common interests was that both of you liked watching anime. You also liked cooking even though you were not as experimental as Jay when you entered the kitchen. Jay was stunned when he learned your favorite rock band: ONE OK ROCK because that was his favorite band too. He was surprised to find similarities between you two when you looked so different from outside. He also learned how much he liked your laugh and how hard he wanted to try to make you laugh more often to just listen to your laugh.

Not so long after, you paid the check and headed to your next destination.

“We’re going to the beach, I hope you know how to ride a bike” you chimed while walking backwards in front of Jay.

“Of course I know how to ride a bike! Who do you think I am?” he fought back right before you tripped on something and almost fell on your butt. He reached forward to catch you by your waist, saving you from both: the pain and the embarrassment of falling in front of Jay.

You both went silent when you were chest to chest. You looked up to Jay’s face while holding your breath. You looked at his eyes and he stared back at yours. You saw his eyes flicker to your lips and that was the signal you got before pulling away from his hold.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry, I’m so clumsy” you mumbled looking down at your feet, continuing to walk next to Jay. He strolled next to you but he did not miss the pink shade on your cheeks before looking ahead.

***

Oh my god Y/N! Get your shit together! What is wrong with you, you just spent a single day with the guy! You told yourself that night, laying down on your bed when you came back from your day with Jay.

Okay, he was attractive, funny and nice to you. He also was a good listener and he was talkative as well. You felt comfortable spending time with him and you felt bad when you said goodbye to him in front of your house before you got in. You sighed before rubbing your eyes and tried to fall asleep without thinking about your cute, hot, funny and sweet classmate.

Study Group

You opened the gates of the coffee shop you were supposed to meet with your study mates 10 minutes later than your agreed meeting time. You hurried your way upstairs where it was more quiet than downstairs and you saw your group members sitting on a table in the left corner of the room. You apologized for being late when you reach their table and took the only empty seat next to Daniel, across from Jay.

You opened your backpack to take your materials out when you realized a cup of coffee was pushed in front of you. You looked up to see Jay grinning at you. He went back to taking notes on his notebook when you reached for the cup to take a sip from it. You realized it was a latte with unsweetened vanilla. Your usual order. He remembered your order from the coffee shop you went on your little tour right before you went to see the local art gallery. You looked at his face to see him watching your reaction. You gave him a small smile while mouthing "thank you" and he returned your smile with a little nod.

Confession

It was right before the Christmas break started when Jay came to terms with his feelings for you. Between the walks you took home together, the shared snacks between classes, the laughs shared during the lunch periods, and the times he snuck into your room to watch your favorite anime together at night when you were both supposed to be sleeping, he fell for you.

Jay was a straightforward guy. If he feels something, he might as well tell you about it. Worst case scenario: you would kindly reject him and he would move on. So he grabbed his phone from his nightstand and texted you.

You grabbed your cardigan from your closet and opened the gates of the kitchen which looked at the backyard as quiet as possible to not wake your parents up. You saw Jay putting his hands in his pockets while waiting for you in the middle of your backyard. His back was facing you so you thought you could have a little fun.

You reached him while tiptoeing silently and grabbed his waist from behind.

“BOO!” you whisper screamed. He jumped and pushed you away while you tried to hold your laugh, but failed miserably. He watched you laugh while he shook his head in disbelief.

“I knew it! You’re still scared of the ghosts” you accused him, stepping forward and putting your pointing finger on his chest. He watched you having fun with an amusing smile plastered on his face. He reached for your waist with his both hands while still looking at you with the same amused smile.

“Why do I even like you?” he muttered in disbelief. You froze. He watched your surprised expression and realized what he just blurted out.

“What?” you asked looking down at his chest because looking into his eyes was very hard at that moment. Jay took a deep breath before continuing.

“I thought I was pretty obvious” he said casually. Your heart was beating so fast that you got scared that Jay might have heard its banging on your chest. You bowed your head down and your forehead touched Jay’s chest. You were shy.

“Ilikeyoutoo” you mumbled so fast, Jay almost couldn’t catch it. Cute, he thought and you felt his lips press on your forehead. You hugged his waist while he nuzzled his nose in the crook of your neck under the light of the stars.

Secrecy

Ever since you started going on dates with Jay, it was during the Christmas break. You went to cute cafes to drink hot chocolate, went ice skating, and did all the holiday activities together. One thing you didn’t talk about was how you were going to act when you got back to school. So you started sneaking around instinctively.

It was another study group meeting before the upcoming exams. You were seated between Ruby and Jay at one of the tables in your local library’s study hall when you felt Jay’s hand grabbing yours under the table. You turned to look at his face but he shrugged his shoulders like he didn’t care. You intertwined your hand with his and put them on top of your thigh. He rubbed his thumb on the back of your hand as both of you continued reading your textbooks.

When you were done with studying for History, you had to grab another book from the aisle where English textbooks were put. You got up, letting go of Jay’s hand in the process and went to the English books section. You searched through the bookshelves to find the book you needed. As you were focused on reading the names of various textbooks, you felt a small kiss pressed on the exposed skin of the back of your neck. Your breath caught in the back of your throat when you turned around to see Jay smirking at you.

“They could have seen us” you whispered to him, slapping his arm.

Not So Secretive

Jay entered the class, playing with the straps of his backpack when he saw you sitting on your seat while playing with your phone. He reached his seat to find Daniel sitting on it.

“Why are you sitting here?” questioned Jay, tilting his head to the empty seat next to you where Daniel seated every day except for that day. Daniel let a sigh before looking up at Jay.

“Don’t you want to sit next to your girlfriend?” he asked, already knowing the answer to the question.

Jay did not respond before sitting next to you. You turned your head to see who was seating next to you in surprise before he leaned forward to plant a sloppy kiss on your cheek in front of your classmates.

[lady-divine-writes]

Good Omens - A Corpse, Cake, and a Cuppa (Rated NC17)

Summary: Aziraphale is Death and Crowley is the serial killer who keeps murdering to catch a glimpse of the ethereal being he fell in love with. (1714 words)

Notes: Written for the above Halloween prompt from @new-endings/M.A.D.#8943. Human Crowley au. It’s kind of gory, I’m not going to lie.

Read on AO3.

“Jesus Christmas!" Aziraphale yelps, tiptoeing through the thick pool of red coagulating on the concrete. Threads of it cling to the soles of his shoes when he lifts his feet as if trying to drag him down. Aziraphale has seen a great deal of blood in his time. None of it has been pretty. But this is especially gruesome.

He wonders if that’s for his benefit.

"Look at... look at this! Look at all the… !” Aziraphale takes a pause and breathes in deep, pressing the thumb and forefinger of his right hand to his forehead. Tension causes a vein to distend and throb - quite the feat since, as a non-human entity, he shouldn't be able to experience this kind of pain. Or so he thought. In the thousands of years he's roamed earth reaping souls, he's finally found the one mortal who can give him what humans call a migraine. And he doesn't like it. Not one bit. “Could you please just… stop already?"

Crowley grins, thrilled giddy by the arrival of his intended audience. “No,” he replies, shoving the slicked head of his filthy ax deeper into the severed spine of the fresh corpse at his feet.

Aziraphale grimaces as the blade lands with a resounding slap. 

That ax of Crowley's gets on every one of Aziraphale's nerves. It's effective for its purpose but positively unsanitary. It makes his skin crawl every time he sees it.

Crowley lifts it slowly, eyes Aziraphale menacingly.

Eyes his nice, clean coat, Aziraphale realizes.

“Crowley!” he warns, putting both hands up in defense. “Don't you dare... !”

But Crowley doesn't let him finish, hoisting his ax higher with part of the dead man's torso attached. He doesn't need to do anything after that. The torso falls from the blade and splashes down in the pool, accomplishing what Crowley set out to do.

“Holy... GAH!” Aziraphale leaps back to avoid the spray. He frowns at his clothes when he sees he wasn't quick enough. "Look what you've done! You’ve made a mess of my coat!”

“Improved it, I’d say,” Crowley snarks. “Given it a pop of color.”

“I've had this coat for ages and hadn't collected a single stain! Not one! And look at your shoes! Ruined!" He gazes down at Crowley's feet in despair. "I actually liked that pair.”

“Really?" Crowley tilts his head, batting his eyes innocently. "You didn't tell me that.”

“Yes, well... " Aziraphale busies himself fishing a handkerchief out of his pocket. Praying he’s swift enough to save the fabric, he pats at the specks on his sleeve "... it’s not my place to tell a homicidal maniac that he looks fetching in snakeskin, is it?”

Crowley pouts, his lower lip jutting out, making him look comically childish despite the streaks of blood running down his cheeks. 

Aziraphale’s brows pull together. He glances around, trying to work out what's wrong. "What? What is it?"

"You're being mean."

"How am I being mean?"

"You're calling me names."

"Accurate ones, yes."

"You sound disappointed."

"You think so!?"

“B-but... but why? I took your advice!" Crowley argues. "I changed me m.o.!”

“I didn’t give you advice! I said you should stop killing innocent people!”

“I did! This guy?" Crowley plants the heel of his sopping shoe into the dead man's crooked neck for emphasis. "He weren’t innocent! He was a serial killer, too! He just happened to be shite at it!”

"I can see that." Aziraphale peers into the vacant eyes of the man on the ground, spirit buzzing beneath his skin, waiting to be reaped. But Aziraphale is in no rush. In the choice between filling out paperwork and shooting the shite with Crowley, surprisingly, he chooses Crowley. 

Or maybe not so surprising, Aziraphale muses, biting his lower lip and indulging in a private chuckle. He rolls his eyes in disgust at himself right after. What are you doing? Stop that!

"Besides, I'm doin' you a solid!" 

Aziraphale scoffs, snapping back to his senses. "How do you figure?"

"You're Death, ain't ya? I'm keeping you in business!"

"I don't know if you've read the papers lately, dear boy, but humans are dropping like flies thanks to their own stubbornness and stupidity. You're slap in the middle of one of the worst pandemics in history, but instead of doing what you can to stay safe, you lot spend your time arguing over petty b.s.! I won't wear a mask! It's against my rights! I'm not taking the vaccine! It'll make me sterile! There is no disease! It's all a big conspiracy! Meanwhile, in the states, some orange lunatic has everyone drinking bleach! Believe me, I hardly need your help doing my job!" 

“Oi! Don’t lump me in with those prats!”

“Why not? You’re not wearing a mask, I see.”

“Don’t have to. I got my shot. And I keep me distance.”

“But you’re covered in blood! Did that man you dismembered have the virus!? You don’t know!” Aziraphale cringes at words that sound far more like concern than scolding. Which he should be doing. Scolding and ridiculing, and possibly calling the police.

But he won’t.

If Crowley were thrown in prison, it would be harder for Aziraphale to find an excuse to see him. Aziraphale has yet to decide if that’s something he wants, but either way, he’d prefer it not be at the expense of another life.

"Fine. Whatever. If that's the way you feel about it... " Crowley grumbles, letting what remains of that statement die as embarrassment rises to his cheeks, settling beneath the red already there. He crosses his arms over his chest and turns his face away. 

Just like a child, Aziraphale thinks. 

And as with a child, Aziraphale should have nipped this in the bud much, much earlier - like when Crowley realized that he could summon Aziraphale whenever he wanted by upping the frequency of his murderous antics. 

This, to date, is his twenty-seventh kill.

Aziraphale doesn't know how Crowley spotted him. He's pretty adept at avoiding human detection. But after victim number eight, Aziraphale turned around, scythe in hand, and there he stood: tall, gangly, bizarrely besotted, dressed in black and wearing sunglasses at one in the morning. Aziraphale thought Crowley was a run-of-the-mill psychopath looking for attention, seeing Aziraphale as a hapless dolt to play cat-and-mouse with, not knowing for one second who he was dealing with.

Not only did Crowley know exactly who Aziraphale was, but he had taken a considerable shine to him.

Aziraphale humored the man when their paths crossed so he could get on with his work, never for one minute considering the consequences. Thinking back on their past interactions, Aziraphale can pick out the hints Crowley had been dropping.

Aziraphale played right into them, and he could kick himself over it.

"We have to stop meeting like this," Aziraphale quipped dryly after Crowley had beheaded some poor, down-on-his-luck fool. "I'm going to start thinking that you have a thing for me."

"Finally!" Crowley tossed his arms in the air. "At this rate, I was going to have to murder half of London and spell out the words ’Will you go out with me?’ with their bodies. Do you know how time-consuming that would have been?"

Aziraphale had written that comment off as a morbid attempt at humor. 

Now he feels like an imbecile.

He’s going to get an earful from Gabriel if he ever gets wind of this. Aziraphale has been able to cover up the increase in London deaths by blaming the pandemic. But once people get their acts together and things calm down, he’ll have to come clean.

There’s a serial killer roaming the streets that has a serious crush on him.

Aziraphale lets out a heavy sigh as he comes to a decision.

A bad decision.

He's going to regret this. He knows he's going to regret this. 

But will he really though?

Aziraphale looks Crowley over, still moping with his nose in the air. He examines him at depth - his sharp features, his debonair style (hiding beneath a litre of blood), his devil-may-care attitude, his rowdy sense of humor. If he were another angel, or even a demon, Aziraphale would have asked him out already, body count or no. 

So what is he waiting for?

It’s not entirely unheard of, an angel dating outside their dominion. And as for the moral issues of dating a murderer, well, Aziraphale is an angel. He has a responsibility to bring sinners to the light, help them see the truth. That can be done anywhere, not just in church - on a street corner, in a diner…

Back at his flat.

Besides, he and Crowley have a lot more in common than Aziraphale did with his last paramour, an angel he had dallied with solely for the fact that he was guardian of comestibles.

It seemed like a match made in Heaven, so to speak.

Far from it.

“Look - if I let you take me out for coffee, will you stop the gratuitous bloodshed?”

Crowley all but gasps when that question leaves Aziraphale’s mouth, the grin growing on his face transforming, becoming less maniacal and more… normal if that makes any sense. "One cup of coffee. That's all I ask."

"Then come along. Here… “ Aziraphale snaps his fingers, cleaning Crowley thoroughly before he takes his arm. “If you're good, I'll let you buy me a slice of cake.”

“That’s very generous of you.”

“I’m glad you think so. I’m a very slow eater. And I figure the longer I stay with you, the more I can keep an eye on you."

“Deal. But, you know," Crowley starts, his tone so filled with teasing he’s on the verge of giggles, "if you, say, spent the night at my flat, you could keep an eye on me for hours. Think of all the people I wouldn’t be able to kill.”

Aziraphale smirks, amused that they both had a semblance of the same idea. “You don’t say?”

“I do.”

“That’s blackmail.”

“More so than you bartering human lives against a cuppa and cake?”

Aziraphale shrugs, but he doesn't relinquish Crowley's arm. He does, however, relieve him of his ax so he doesn’t get any ideas along the way. “Fair point.”

[ramblingkat]

Fic: Stars

This was encouraged by the UraIchi discord server. Basic concept: Everyone is born with a tail. If you live long enough, you get more. If you find your “soul mate” you get a new color on your tail. 

Here, Yoruichi noticed the new color on Kisuke’s tail. He had happily been oblivious. And has no idea who’s reiatsu matches that new color of fur on his tail.

Fandom: Bleach

Characters: Urahara Kisuke, Shihoin Yoruichi, Ishida Ryuken, Kurosaki Masaki, Kurosaki Isshin, and Kurosaki Ichigo

***

“You have gold in your fur.”

Yoruichi’s voice, deep and raspy, was a familiar one, and he knew she’d been sitting behind him for a bit, so Kisuke didn’t jump. Though he did pause, a cup of tea against his lips. Then he lowered it again, turning some to look over his shoulder at his friend. 

She was crouched next to his tail, eyes focused on the tip. Kisuke didn't actually look at his tail all that much, with it being out of his direct line of sight. Oh, he made sure it was brushed and neat enough, but it was just another limb. As long as it worked as he wanted, he never thought about it too much. 

Now he flicked it up, bringing the tip up closer since that was where Yoruichi had been focused. 

This was the only tail on display, as humans rarely lived long enough to gain a second tail, let alone a third as Kisuke had. The other two were hidden, as they had been for almost a century of hiding in the special gigai he had created. The only one on display was the same ashy blond as his hair, a sleek fox tail that had gotten him quite a few appreciative looks. And more than a few people asking for blessings. 

Apparently, pale fox tails were a sign of favor. Not something he had expected when he had first come to the living world. 

Shinji had laughed at him, the man’s golden lion tail lashing lazily behind him. Kisuke had asked how it felt to only have to deal with one rope instead of the multitude that the older captain usually had. That had lead to a spar, and gotten Shinji distracted. 

Now, however, Kisuke saw that there were fine golden hairs growing at the end of his tail. They didn’t stand out a great deal, not yet. But they were definitely golden. A distinct change from the pale fur they grew in. 

Yoruichi’s reiatsu, as muted as it was, radiated delight. Kisuke was feeling a bit stunned himself. 

“But,” he protested, voice distant in his own ears, “I haven’t met anyone new. Not for long enough to have our energies to click enough to bond.” 

There was a flat-out chortle from Yoruichi, and she rose up onto her back legs, resting her paws against the back of his shoulder. That let her get a better look at his tail. “You found someone to soul bond to and didn’t say anything.” She sounded highly amused and no small amount of pleased. “What have you been up to?”

Kisuke snorted. “Plotting and planning. The usual.” He flicked his tail against her face, then let it relax again. “I wonder who this is. I don’t know of anyone I’ve seen recently that has that color of reiatsu.”

He reached over and poked Yoruichi’s nose as she opened her mouth. “And don’t start on SoiFon. Right shade, very much wrong person.” He smiled faintly. “She’d murder me if we ever created some sort of spiritual bond.” Kisuke paused. “Though the way she hates me would definitely qualify. But the timing is wrong.”

“She doesn’t hate you,” Yoruichi protested. Ignoring Kisuke’s amused, yet unimpressed, expression, the cat continued. “She’s just prickly about my honor.”

Kisuke snorted again, hand moving to rub his friend’s ears. “Very prickly,” he said drily. “If she could make me vanish, she would definitely do so.” He shook his head. “In any case, SoiFon’s disdain for me is not the topic here. I honestly have no idea why I would have golden fur coming in now. Everyone I interact with now are the same people I have interacted with for years. I doubt any of them have changed that much.”

“Something to figure out later,” Yoruichi agreed. “It’s not like your crimson isn’t a distinct shade.” She licked a foot, quiet for a moment. “Though now that I am here, how are things with Isshin and Masaki?”

Still absently petting her, Kisuke smiled faintly. “Going well. From everything that Ishida-san and I can tell, the baby is healthy and growing well. They are likely to have a mix of Isshin-san and Masaki-san talents.” Kisuke considered it a moment. “I believe, once the baby is born, they’ll take the hollow with them. That will be vital for their stability. They are so in balance at the moment that the loss of one aspect will likely prove lethal in the long run.” He considered that as fingers moving softly over dark fur. “Something I have impressed upon the parents to be. The hollow is sealed and will continue to be until we break it at some point, but the power it holds is present. So the baby will be…impressive.”

There was a snort from Yoruichi. “Maybe it’s the baby,” she teased, though there had not been any documented cases of soul bonding with an unborn child. “You do the impossible regularly enough. Why not do it again?”

Kisuke tweaked her ear, hand blurring as he dodged the slash of her claws. “I doubt even baby Kurosaki is developed enough to have a proper reiatsu signature yet,” he said easily. “While they have a strong presence already, it’s…malleable. Though I do hope that you’ll be in town when the time for the birth gets close.” He wrinkled his nose. “I am already noticing an uptick of smaller hollows. Masaki-san has been attracting quite a bit of attention from the wrong quarters. I think when it is time for baby Kurosaki to be born, they will lure in hollows for miles around. We’ll need to set up a protective line around them and deal with the swarm that is likely to descend on us at that level of power energy.”

A nod from Yoruichi. “Just contact me when it gets close to time. Though I don’t know if I’ll go too far.” Her tone went light and teasing. “After all, I have to find out who your mysterious suitor to be is. Only you could get a soul bond and not notice.”

That got her a sigh and a shrug. “It wasn’t like it was that big a deal,” he protested, giving his friend an over-exaggerated pout. “And I’ve been busy.”

Yoruichi perked up. “I have to talk to Tessai,” she warbled out, as close to singing as she got. Dodging Kisuke’s grab, the cat ran into the house, yowling out the name of their other friend, and Kisuke sighed.

Collecting his tea, he focused on that. No need to think about Tessai-san’s matchmaking urges now. He’d be dealing with them soon enough.

***

The stars looked amazing, and Kisuke found himself panting as he watched them decorate the night sky.

They weren’t as bright here as they were in soul society, but there was a great deal more progression in the living world, so bright it dimmed even the night sky.

Though all of his senses felt dimmed. The Kurosaki baby had come into the world, and he was grateful that Ishida had a charm that he and Masaki had put on the baby. It would allow more of the child’s reiatsu to release over the next year or so. Slow enough that they shouldn’t have a repeat of tonight. 

He was exhausted, and he was sure that Yoruichi was the same whenever she was at. 

The Visored had taken the outer layer of the patrol. Kisuke and Yoruichi had focused on the blocks around the roof of the hospital that the baby was being born in. And outside of all of it, Hachigen and Tessai had been working on keeping all of this under wraps. While he knew Aizen had an idea where they might be, they did not need the baby’s explosion of power to attract his eye. 

He was pretty sure they had dealt with every hollow from miles around, all attracted to the initial spike of power that the baby would have screamed out with their first breath.

That was something he needed to check on well. 

Pushing himself upright, Kisuke glanced around. It only took a moment to spot Yoruichi, leaning against an air conditioning unit a few roofs over. Waving to catch her attention, he waited until she nodded back, then he let himself drop over the side of the roof.

Ishida had given him a room number, and Kisuke had already scouted out where it was in the hospital. So it only took a moment to wrap a hint of reiatsu under his feet to slow and then stop his fall. He pulled a phone out and texted the man, making sure he was able to come in.

The curtains shoved apart, and Ishida was scowling at him. The man opened the window. “Get in here,” he muttered. “The sooner you make sure the boy is all right, the sooner you can leave.”

Kisuke smiled. “A boy? I am sure that Kurosaki-san is thrilled.”

“Isshin is being an idiot over it, and Masaki is pleased to have a healthy baby.” 

He shifted aside, letting Kisuke step through and land lightly on the floor, geta making only a small clicking as they hit the ground. Then Ishida continued. “They named him Ichigo. I assume you dealt with any outside trouble.”

Kisuke grimaced a bit. “After this, I think we’re all going to go find out beds now that the charm you have put into place has muted his strength. The area should be hollow free for a few months.”

A sigh. “That’s good,” the white haired Quincy said. “Hopefully they’ll be gone for even longer than that.”

Kisuke considered that. “If you like, I can set up patrol when your own child is born.” It was an honest offer, as he knew that the man’s wife had taken poorly to pregnancy. She was happy to be pregnant, but every time Kisuke saw her around, she looked exhausted and drained.

Ishida tensed, then made himself relax. “We’ll discuss that later,” he said, which made Kisuke smile to himself. That wasn’t a no, and it was nice to see how devoted the man was to his wife. He was as bad as Isshin was, if quieter about it. 

But he only nodded in response, quietly following as he was lead to the bed. 

There was Masaki, who was watching them, though Kisuke could see she was ready to go to sleep. Beside the bed was Isshin, whose tail was wagging back and forth like mad. And beside him, placed where both he and Masaki could reach, was a tiny little being. 

There was a tuft of dark hair, though he could already see strands of a paler color in it. Kisuke wondered if baby Kurosaki… Ichigo, his name was Ichigo, would have his mother’s hair? 

He was wrapped firmly in a warm blanket, swaddled quite tightly. Though he managed to get a foot and a puffy little tail out of the confines already. Kisuke smiled faintly, tucking the fluffy grey tail and the foot back into the blanket. “Already a trouble maker,” he murmured to the child, and then rested his hand on Ichigo’s chest. Closing his eyes, he focused, threading his reiatsu gently to make sure everything was still balanced. 

This was something he’d been doing since Isshin had come to tell him that Masaki was pregnant, in a near panic. There had been two pregnancies before this one, and neither had gotten far. The third time was the charm, and the balance of energies settled in ways to keep the boy from coming to harm. 

Everything still felt good, and he opened his eyes with a smile. 

“Congratulations,” he said, smiling at them. He knew they had been heartbroken the previous times, and having Ichigo here, all red-faced and scowling, had to be such a relief. 

“Masaki-san?” he asked, offering her his hand. She rested her fingers against his palm, and he did his own scan of her energies. 

Once he was done, he gave her hand a light squeeze and let go. “It’s as I thought. The hollow passed on to Ichigo, but the seal on it seems to be intact. Though he’s definitely strong enough to see spirits without much help.”

He smiled at the new parents. “You should have an easier time of things if you decide to give him any siblings without the hollow energies causing such distress on your own.” That was to Masaki, who looked relieved. He knew she had taken the failed pregnancies hard, but this should help her feel better about any future attempts. 

Moving away from the bed, Kisuke absently sealed Benihime back into a cane, nodding at each of them. “Now that everything seems to have settled both outside and in here, I’m off. Let me know if you have any other concerns that I might be able to help calm.” 

He went to perch on the sill of the window, then threw a grin back at them. “And, as always, come visit the shop and pick up a few items. I always have a wide range of stock for your purchasing pleasure.”

Ishida shoved him out the window with a snort. 

Kisuke laughed as he caught himself, and took off into the night. Time to find everyone and let them know that they could do whatever. The situation was done, and it was time for a well-deserved rest.

Besides, now that Ichigo was actually born, Kisuke had potential plans to adjust.

[strawberrysoup]

Pocketful of Posies || Chapter 1

You’d been hiding for years and years now; from your family, from society, from alphas and packs. Suppressants were dangerous but effective and necessary for an omega who refused to be owned—but no suppressants were strong enough to fool the nose of a super soldier, who together with his pack would stop at nothing to bind you to them forever. 

pairings: dark!Avengers x reader word length: 3.3k chapters: 1/? warnings: A/B/O dynamics, power imbalances, noncon and dubcon sexual situations, loss of autonomy, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat — this is a dark!fic, read at your own risk. Open the read more and CTRL + F, search “content warnings” to skip to detailed trigger warnings at the bottom of the chapter.

Cleaning rich people’s vacation homes hadn’t been your dream job growing up. You had such high hopes when you were a kid, well into your teens, of becoming a zoologist. It had started off like most kid’s dreams—in kindergarten you wanted to be a veterinarian. That grew into wanting to become a herpetologist, but then you wondered, why limit yourself? As a zoologist you could be around tons and tons of animals, studying their behaviors and ecological impacts. It was about half way past your fourteenth birthday that you realized none of your dreams mattered.

You woke in the middle of the night to a crippling pain in your stomach, an unbearable heat boiling under your flesh. You must’ve been screaming, because your parents burst in frantically—only to stop dead upon stepping past the threshold. At the time you had no idea why, but it had been shock. Omegas were rare nowadays, more and more betas were being born while the number of omegas dropped. It was a point on contention; betas could breed with alphas, rendering the omega almost obsolete but alphas, especially ones with packs, wanted omegas.

Personally, you figured that evolution had decided to take things into its’ own hands. Everything about omegas spat in the face of adaption; they were small and delicate, hardwired to obey alpha commands even to their own detriment, experienced a full weeks’ worth of being completely and utterly incapable of survival on their own—

Well, unless one acquired (through whatever means necessary) methods to prevent it that one. Heats, a homegrown threat guaranteed to commit acts of violence at least twice a year. By the time your first had worn off, your parents had already jumped into action. They had three different packs bidding on you. Your mother had been bubbling with glee, talking about how wonderful it was that she had produced an omega when she herself was a beta. Your very existence was about to rocket them into both fame and fortune. So, you ran away. That same night.

It had been shockingly easy to locate illegal suppressants. They taught all about them in school, how they were horrible and taxing on an omega’s physiology. Suppressants masked an omega’s scent, prevented their heats, and (in your opinion) were the best invention of the twenty first century. You couldn’t have given a flying fuck about what negative impacts they might’ve had on your body—death would be a reprieve. Unfortunately you’d yet to have any of the widely touted negative effects (effects that you were pretty sure were made up to keep omegas afraid and compliant) and so you found yourself cleaning rich people’s vacation homes just over the Canadian border.

You’d been living out of your car since you first bought it at sixteen, for five hundred dollars. You gave a creepy beta a blowjob to get your license forged. It was the best investment you’d ever made (not that you had the opportunity to make many) and the clunker was still getting you from point A to point B and that’s all you needed. You had to move constantly, staying in one place too long meant people started to notice you, especially in the small towns you frequented in Ontario. But there was so much forest surrounding you that every once in a while you could just drop off the face of the earth, camping so deep in the woods no one would stumble across you. It made staying anonymous so much easier.

That was actually the current plan, after you finished cleaning this last massive cabin; to abscond into the woods for a while, until you’ve faded from everyone’s memory. You won’t return to this town for at least a year. You’ll spark recognition when you return, but not enough for anyone to consider you more than an outsider in their close-knit community. The kind woman who lets you work for her cleaning company so sporadically will remember you when you ring her, the only person particularly thrilled to hear you’re back for a few months.

You do an excellent job and you do it fast— you can thoroughly and perfectly clean a 6 bedroom mansion by yourself in less than 10 hours and you were paid under the table so you didn’t require overtime, which Mrs. Hunt loved (there was no tax to be taken from an unreported cash payment though, so it was a fair trade in your opinion). You would work yourself to the bone, 10 hours a day everyday there was work available for at least three months and then dip without any expectations until the next time you returned, when she was gushing over the amazing reviews your work had gotten the last time you were around.

It was symbiotic existence—you were paid well for your efforts, more than enough to sustain living out of your car for months at a time, and your performance drove her online reviews into the 4.9 stars range and made it feasible for her to raise her prices. Mrs. Hunt didn’t ask any questions either, even when you requested to only work alone and couldn’t provide any identification beyond a driver’s license.

You were finishing up the kitchen in what was definitely one of the nicest places you’d ever cleaned when your phone went off in your back pocket. It made your skin prickle. Very few people had your number and you couldn’t think of a single reason they’d ring you instead of texting unless something was wrong.  You propped the mop against your shoulder and dug out the phone, frowning at Mrs. Hunt’s name on the screen.

“Hello?”

“Oh sweetie, I’m so glad I got a hold of you! How are you doing?”

“I’m well, Mrs. Hunt,” you answered, your voice coming out semi-robotically as you strained not to sound panicked while continuing the conversation like a normal fucking person, “I’m just about done here, I was finishing the dry mop in the kitchen when you called and then all I need to do is pack up.”

“Oh perfect! I was calling because the owner just rang me, apparently some of his packmates will be arriving a bit earlier than anticipated—potentially within the next hour. Something about someone getting caught up at work, I’ll spare you the details. But if you’re almost done then you’ll probably be gone by the time they arrive.”

“Certainly Mrs. Hunt,” you’d immediately started frantically dry mopping the moment the words ‘within the next hour’ escaped the woman’s mouth, phone clamped between your ear and shoulder. “I’ll be gone in the next few minutes.”

“Now even if you aren’t its okay,” the concern in her voice meant that your own had betrayed you, waivered when you responded without your knowledge. “I always warn the owners that if they arrive before the scheduled time that there’s a possibility the house won’t be done and/or there might be people actively working in the house. You won’t get in any trouble, okay?”

“R-Right, thank you ma’am,” you swallowed heavily, finishing the last swipe across the tile in the kitchen and hustling back into the foyer. “I really won’t be but a minute though. I always keep all of my equipment put away and together if I’m not using it, so I really just need to pack up the mop.”

Which you’d already shoved into the rolling cart you picked up each morning that held all of your cleaning supplies provided by the company.

“Don’t forget your bucket too!” Mrs. Hunt sounded smiley again, “I’ll leave the key under the mat so you can stow your cart tonight. Have a good one swee—.”

“You too!” You might’ve hung up a touch too soon to be considered polite, shoving the phone back into your pocket and running into the kitchen. There was no time to dwell on manners. 

The mop bucket was sitting on the counter, already washed and dried and waiting to be put away. You’d started keeping your things completely put away at all times the same day you’d been accosted by a homeowner who arrived home earlier than expected while you were still trying to pack up. You’d tried to put your notice in that night, a couple of years ago now, but Mrs. Hunt begged you not to—promised it would never happen again. This must’ve been her best attempt at preventing it. At least you had already planned to leave town tonight anyway.

You nearly sprinted back to the cart, haphazardly tossing the stupid bucket on top and wheeling it towards the huge front doors. You’d just stopped to reach around and grab the handle when the knob turned and the left door was pushed open, nearly hitting your cart.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” he was a beta, curly haired and dark eyed with pale skin, wearing a pair of glasses on the bridge of his nose. “Did I knock anything over?”

“N-No, sir,” you pulled the cart back a few steps, nearly trembling with the effort it took not to blast right past him, especially when you noticed him carefully scenting the air. "The house is all clean, I was j-just leaving.”

“Thank you, for getting everything clean for us. We don’t get to come out here as often as we like, I’m sure the place collected a lot of dust in our absence,” he smiled, looking both parts shy and calculating to your well trained eye— and you had no time for such consideration.

“Not too much, h-have a nice night!” You could feel your pulse racing and that was bad. Even the good suppressants, the ones that most of your money went to, had difficulty completely masking the scent of panicking omega.

“Did you use bleach?” The question caught you off guard and you almost jumped when he put a hand on your cart, glancing through the array of chemicals.

“Y-Yes, in the bathrooms. I wasn’t informed of any sensitivities—”

“Nothing a little fresh air won’t take care of,” you wanted him to stop looking at you like that, like there was some pale flash of recognition behind his eyes. “Would you go open the windows in the bathrooms upstairs? I’m afraid my nose is pretty sensitive, several of my packmates are similar.”

You did not like that his nose was especially sensitive and you hated that his packmates were similarly afflicted. It felt like getting punched in the face with a fight or flight instinct, your brain immediately demanded that you leave the cart and run past him—fuck the cart, fuck the job, you could find something else.

“Oh, and do you have the key to the front doors? I might as well get them from you now instead of us having to go down to the office tomorrow.” Your hand immediately dove into your pocket, yanking out the single key and dropping it in his palm. “Thanks— and the windows? Sorry, I just can’t go up there until it’s aired out.”

He wasn’t a huge man but the way he filled the doorway made you second guess trying to run past him, even if he was greying at the temples and looking a little rumpled. It was strange, you wouldn’t usually have such an intense reaction to a beta, but something about him was vaguely unsettling. So instead of trying to make a run for it, you turned on your heel and forced yourself to calmly walk up the stairs. There were four massive bedrooms in the cabin, each with its own bathroom and you’d need to go through and open the windows for the three bathrooms that had them. It meant darting into huge bedrooms, dodging expensive furniture and knickknacks and trying not to dirty the freshly mopped and swept hardwood floors in the process.

It took about five minutes but you felt like you’d run a marathon, your heart was pounding and there was sweat at the nape of your neck. All you wanted was out of the stupid fucking house, immediately. You dashed down the stairs and turned the corner, seeing your cart right where you left it. The door was still open too, but the beta was no where to be seen. You immediately darted forward, grabbing the cart tightly and beginning to push it past the threshold—

You were stopped in your tracks at the sight of two unnecessarily broad alphas. Both were tall, the white man standing just an inch or so taller, with a full beard and blond hair. The black alpha had facial hair too, a cleanly edged goatee to match a faded cut. Both were incredibly attractive and putting off waves of pheromones, to the point that your head floated for a moment.  Your lips clamped shut on a whine, instinct trying to push through and alert the two powerful alphas of your presence. Instead you ducked your head and continued out the door.

“Hi there, sweetheart.” Your gaze snapped up, immediately locking with a pair of dark brown eyes. “You the housekeeper?”

“Yes sir,” you answered quietly, stopping short in front of them when neither moved out of your way. “Sorry to have been here so late. Have a good evening.”

Both were still smiling, still pointedly not moving.

“My name’s Steve, that’s Sam,” the blond’s nose twitched, just slightly, and you realized he was very discretely scenting the air. “Nice to meet you. Do you live in town?”

“N-No, please excuse me,” you nudged the cart forward just an inch but they still didn’t budge and panic began coursing through your blood with renewed vigor, “excuse m—”

“Your scent is… confusing,” Steve’s head tilted to the side, “I don’t mean to be crass, of course, but I couldn’t help but notice.”

“It’s always been this way,” the response was automatic and your brain began shutting down all unnecessary functions; you were about to have to run and hope your omega physiology would make you faster than them.

“You smell almost like an omega,” he continued, both hands coming to rest on his hips, emphasizing the width of his shoulders. “But not quite?”

“I’m a beta.”

“Are you sweetheart?” Sam’s voice was a rumble, his head tilted to the side while his dark eyes burned holes into your skin.

The tone an alpha used with naughty omegas was deliberate and tightly controlled, the same as a command or a purr or a growl. It was on purpose, an attempt to nicely draw out the correct response. He wanted you to admit you were an omega, to tell them the truth of your own volition. The fact that your hindbrain desperately wanted to comply was a completely different issue—one you didn’t have time to address right now.

“Positive,” you breathed, clenching your fists tightly around the handles of the cart for just a second before deciding to leave it behind; you’d never be coming back here, there was no reason to worry about preserving your job.

Your eyes were quick and indefinitely perceptive. Being an omega was one step up from being a prey species, it came with inherent instincts that made you especially good at predicting behaviors. After all, an omega was only as good as their ability to please and soothe packmates. One of the single upsides to being an omega was that you were fast though—fast enough to outrun most alphas. And you only needed to go about a hundred and fifty feet, once you were in your car you could certainly get away. So the second you realized the pair was about to shift, moving to face each other more than you, you darted around the cart and dodged to the left.

It wasn’t your fault, honestly. There was no way you could’ve known you weren’t dealing with normal alphas. The blond was so fast that he almost moved between blinks—one moment he was still, the next he’d wrapped his arms around you and tugged you back into his chest. His arms were like steel, one wrapped around your torso to keep your arms pinned to your sides while the other carefully held your chin. Your hindbrain was screaming now, submit, submit, make alpha happy and you bit down on your tongue to hold in the whimpers, the omega sounds your throat was trying to produce.

“Shhh, shh, calm down,” it was half a tone away from being a purr and you continued to squirm while you still could—an alpha command was coming, you could feel it in your bones.

“Let Steve smell you,” Sam was rumbling instead of talking again, a similar half purr to how Steve had started speaking. "Everything’s okay, omega.”

You felt a nose nudge down your neck, towards your scent gland and you bared your teeth at the man in front of you. “I’m not an omega!”

“You smell like omega,” Steve’s breath ghosted over your skin and you fought a shiver. "Sort of. It’s buried, under… beta… sour beta?”

“What sort of suppressants are you on, sweetie?” You startled as the beta from earlier emerged from the house, wiping his hands on a dish towel absently. "Are you cutting them with anything? Heroin, or coke? It’s okay, you just need to tell me.”

“Tell Bruce sweetheart,” Sam coaxed, automatically moving to roll up the sleeves of your shirt, evidently looking for track marks. "Where do you get them?”

“I’m not on suppressants!” Your voice was almost a shriek at this point, desperately imitating the behavior of an angry beta rather than a terrified omega. “I’m a beta! Get off of me!”

“Okay, okay, here then,” Steve’s arm around your torso tightened, the one on your chin beginning to work its way down towards your jeans. "There’s only way one to tell for sure.”

Shock and fear and humiliation; an array of emotions swarmed through your body as his hand popped the button but those were the three you could identify and you immediately started thrashing your legs—he was going to check if you had an omega ridge and then everything would be over. It was a defining physical characteristic that couldn’t be passed off as anything other than what it was: a boney protrusion meant to catch on an alpha’s knot so they could be locked in place. In females it was found in the vagina, prominently featured directly before the g-spot so a knot would cause persisting pleasure. For males it was similarly positioned next to the prostate.

“Calm down, calm down!” Sam crooned, hands coming up to cup your face as while Steve’s slithered down the front of your jeans and into your panties. "It’s okay sweetheart, no matter what. Whatever Steve finds, you’re okay. You’re safe. We’ll keep you safe.”

The thrashing was doing nothing but tiring you out, you’d already been intensively cleaning for the past 9 hours without a break and it certainly wasn’t dissuading the hand slithering between your folds. You bit down on your tongue harder, until you drew blood to prevent the whimpers—you couldn’t make that stupid sound, you’d never make that stupid, pathetic, whiney noise, you couldn’t. Not even when a long, thick finger penetrated and sunk knuckle deep. Not even when the pad of said finger brushed your g-spot before hooking onto the ridge, tugging gently in a way that would’ve caused blinding pleasure had you not grounded yourself with the pain of biting your tongue.

“There it is,” Steve’s voice was soft, finger carefully running the length of the ridge. "A nice deep one too.”

“How long have you been taking suppressants?” Bruce prodded quietly, coming to stand next to Sam. “I need to know what sort of damage we’re looking at.”

When you didn’t respond Sam sighed, fingers brushing gently over your chin as he directed you to face him. "Please don’t make us use an alpha command, sweetheart. We just wanna take care of you. Tell Bruce how long you’ve been on suppressants, please.”

You regarded the handsome alpha for several short moments before spitting a mouthful of blood directly into his face.

 content warnings: assault, noncon vaginal fingering

edited 7/9/21 - still on hiatus

[thoughts-on-bangtan]

BTS at Golden Disc Awards 2021

by Admin 1

On the 9th and 10th of January 2021 BTS attended the Golden Disc Awards, and performed on the second day as well. Being there they won the Digital Bonsang for Dynamite on the 9th and the Bonsang, as well as the Album Daesang for Map of the Soul : 7, on the 10th. Amazing achievements which I sincerely congratulate them on.

When it comes to the performance, it was, most certainly, another amazing collection of stages bringing something new once more, even if they presented songs we’ve already seen at previous award shows this season. The opening came in form of Black Swan, though they didn’t sing any of it. It was more an intro showcasing the entrance of the members and highlighted Yoongi’s return to the stage, at least partially. 

The stage featured big metal winds, low lighting, and the members clad in black and white clothing including leather elbow length gloves for Namjoon and Yoongi, and pretty chockers for Taehyung and Jimin. The highlight though was Jungkook’s hair which isn’t dark anymore, but instead has been bleached and dyed a pretty blond. Personally I think it suits him pretty well. 

More below the cut since this is shaping up to be pretty long:

Next up was ON, which was powerful and fierce, though still missing Yoongi, which is all too understandable. Even though he can stand on stage again and hold his mic in his left hand (his surgery was on the left shoulder), it will still be a while until he’ll be able to dance with the members. ON has certainly grown a lot on me and I enjoy their performances of it immensely, and it was much the case this time as well.

The transition from ON to Life Goes On came in form of the stage being made to look like their individual rooms from BE which appeared on the digital walls around them. Their clothes were mostly comfy, though Jimin’s resembled their outfits from all the way back during I NEED U/RUN era. The transition/VCR like moment ended with the instrumental to We Are Bulletproof : The Eternal and the stage looking much the way the MV did with the whale swimming around them in an ocean of shades of purple, blue and pink.

For Life Goes On they had miniature versions of some of their most iconic MV sets on pedestals. It was a really cute idea and I enjoyed the execution a lot. The members seemed relaxed and enjoying themselves, Jimin and Taehyung even having their little moment of looking at each other twice, these moments certainly having become something I always kind of look forward to when it comes to LGO stages. 

Another tiny Jimin and Taehyung detail was Jimin sending a brief, barely noticeable (by the viewer) finger heart which I hadn’t even noticed until my fourth rewatch. It definitely fits with all these other small gestures we’ve seen from these two in recent months, like the finger hearts and kissy faces during their Lotte Family Concert performance of Boy with Luv or hugging each other on day 1 and doing a fun handshake and dance on day 2 during Dionysus at the MOTS ON:E concert visible only on one of the side cameras, not the main one.

The grand finale was the Slow Jam remix of Dynamite which worked perfectly with the chill out lounge/bar atmosphere created on stage fitting with the Great Gatsby theme. The members wore mostly suits in white, blue in Namjoon’s case, and a bright yellow when it comes to Taehyung, as well as Hoseok who had a white button down which Tae did not. While a normal person would look ridiculous in it, Taehyung looked absolutely stunning and made it more than work. After so many energetic performances of Dynamite since its release, seeing such a calm version was really nice and refreshing, showing how versatile BTS and their music are, how they can captivate an audience with fast songs made for big choreographies and stage productions, but also these slow, more chill types of tracks. A marvelous idea, truly.

There was also an encore stage where they sang ON again but this time along with Yoongi on stage which had some hilarious moments, especially Namjoon and Seokjin being silly waving their arms around while kneeling opposite each other on stage during Jungkook’s bridge. Cute.

Afterward the members were at something like a red carpet after interview where they took pictures with their awards (Jungkook and Taehyung even making their Bonsang and Daesang awards kiss much the way film director Bong Joon Ho made his two Oscars kiss last year) and were asked to do a relay of saying something to each other. 

All translations of their words are taken from Vernal_Bom on twitter.

J-hope to Jimin 

“I didn’t feel lonely in 2020 thanks to Jimin. Thank you for making me laugh. Give me happiness and laugh in 2021 as well.”  Jimin (turning to Namjoon): “It seems he can never live without me” 

Honestly the bond between Jimin and Hoseok is so cute and wonderful and you can see, and hear in their words, how important they are to each other, and how grateful Hobi is. We know the members were having a really hard time in 2020 so it doesn’t surprise me that Hobi would highlight the other members, or in this case Jimin, as one of the main reasons why he made it through it. After all we also know that those two made a song together which unfortunately didn’t make it onto BE. Hopefully we might get it one day at least as SoundCloud release, or perhaps on the next album instead.

Jimin to RM 

It was you who made us pull ourselves together to go through 2020. I am always grateful, and it’d be nice if you share you height a little with me in 2021, be healthy and happy. RM: Okay thank you

I love how Jimin used this (public) opportunity to tell/remind Namjoon of how important he was for them especially in 2020, as leader and surely also as friend, yet still also made a little joke to still keep the atmosphere light. After he was done speaking Jimin also hugged Namjoon, which showed once more how tiny he is in comparison.

RM to JK 

It’s finally today, Jungkook-si, in 10 years! You are Golden Maknae! The day that you will prove your nickname! You are proving it right now with your hair color, but in 2021, I hope the year will be filled with gold, like your nickname. Stay healthy. Let’s ‘Jje-kkit-up’ together this year too! (check it up.. the usual Namjoon saying lol)

It’s quite something to think about and realize, isn’t it, this year 10 years pass since Jungkook became a BigHit trainee and moved into their first dorm with Namjoon, Hoseok, Yoongi and Seokjin. I’m curious if Bangtan, as well as BigHit, have some kind of plan for JK specifically for this year that Namjoon chose to highlight his Golden Maknae nickname in such a way, or if it was more of a reminder to JK, that he’s so worthy despite how he doubts himself, and despite how he himself said he’s been going through tough times in 2020.

JK to V 

V hyung, when we were trainees we were getting along so well, (V: We are not now???) No!!! i didn’t mean it. You are becoming so much of an stand-up (reliable, I assume in this context) guy. Thank you for doing all the schedules with us.  jhope: who’s hyung here?

The bond these two share might just be one of the biggest mysteries and causes for conflicts and fights within the fandom, or particular parts of it. After their conversation In The SOOP, I’d like to believe they’ve figured out whatever issue might've arisen between them in the past, found a way to solve and move past it slowly, and rekindled their friendship once more. Seeing at how well they’ve been getting along (on camera) these past few months, I think it might've been so. It’s curious to me though that JK chose to say this instead of something more akin to what Jimin said to Namjoon, or Hoseok to Jimin.

V to Jin 

V: (turns to Jin)  Jin: This is too close V: I listened to Abyss and that makes my heart ache too... Jin: Thank you V: hyung, your song is so good. Make more songs in 2021, let Army and us listen to your song more. Jin: Okayokay  V: and I play game with you to relieve stress.... sorry for talking in ban-mal (informal form). —(also speaking in informal way) Jin: No no it was so fun V: I love you Jin: I love you too

I absolutely adore the bond these two share and I love that Tae chose to say what he did. We know Seokjin has been going through a hard time in 2020, that he dealt with something I’d call imposter syndrome, so I’m glad we got to know even more about how Tae was there for him, something we otherwise would’ve never known. Certain people try to portray Tae as the one member that is almost estranged from his other members, who barely has anything to do with the group outside of schedules, and yet it’s moments like this--as well as Seokjin telling us in his birthday vlive that Tae organized for everyone including his non-BTS friends to send Seokjin birthday wishes in video form to show him how loved and appreciated he is--are the proof that those people are wrong. Tae is very close with his members, and he’s the ambassador of OT7 or nothing, the members his closest friends and brothers, his found and chosen family.

Jin to Suga 

Jin: Yoongi ya, do it well. Suga: Okay.... Jin: Do well on your rehab, and...uh... let’s do well going forward. Suga: Okay.. I will...

These two are so close yet due to their introverted nature their interactions such as this one are just so hilarious and adorable at the same time. Their dynamic is wonderful and this just seems like peak Yoongi-Jin behavior.

Suga to j-hope 

SG: (unable to look into hobi’s eyes) Our hobi JH: Suga! SG: You did work hard in 2020 (evading eye contact) JH: hahhahahah and? SG: Let’s not fall sick in 2021, and hwaiting...  JH: “Hwaiting hyung, and take good care of your health!”

The saga of Yoongi being unable to look Hoseok in the eye continues and it’s just as precious as ever. They stood so close, and while Yoongi wasn’t able to look into Hoseok’s eyes, it’s funny how he was the one who initiated the whole “them standing so close together” thing. I love the difference between how Seokjin didn’t even try to make eye-contact while Hoseok playfully challenged Yoongi and tried to coax him into it anyway knowing it’ll make Yoongi laugh and smile. It’s such a Yoongi-Hoseok thing, I love it.

And with that, the award was over and now also my post. I hope you enjoyed reading it! :3

[unholyhelbig]

Title: Chapter Nine of Artifice- The Pirates Pub

Summary: In the year 1915, the infamous painter Beca Mitchell is commissioned by one of the richest men in America to capture the essence of his wife, Chloe Beale.

[A/N: @lilhan this one is for you!]

The water curved nicely against the setting sun, its bright white light creating a warm slice of heaven. There was a hint of salt in the air, one that tore at Beca’s throat hungrily. She listened to the fisherman, the clink of their knives as they pushed them past reflective scales and pulpy guts.

She had gotten away from the Beale Manor, with its stretching ivy and deep Spanish roots. She was no prisoner, not of Chloe or of Garret alike. But the walls were gated and the scenery was tired. Her skin buzzed being this close to the sea.

Stacie was adamant that she stay within the compound. A certain edge of fear leaked through every word, even though her stare was directed towards the blade of a knife coming down hard and fast on the vegetation cultivated from the garden.

She figured it dangerous for any woman to wander the streets of the island by themselves, even in broad daylight. It was a simple stop for a trade industry washed in deceit and thievery. The men pulling crabbing traps onto the shore were rough and bruised. Hairy and deemed as beasts.

But this had been Beca Mitchell’s element all along; she craved the feeling of unease that came with the sea. More than anything, she craved something stronger than the bitter wine that she had consumed at the kitchen table a few nights previous. It made her feel filmy, even after hours of steeping in cream-colored bathwater.

A few cafes rested against the long stretch of sun-bleached wood. They had pulled their chalk signs in as soon as the star hit high noon. The day grew darker and the last of the hard-working men pulled their bounty in and headed towards Moon Dodge’s- the only place bellowing shanties and spilling hot light onto the docks each time the door swung open.

Beca was drawn to this place. She found herself walking with her shoulders drawn back. No one gave her a second glance when she stepped over the threshold. There was a deep scent of clove and greasy meat fresh off the bone. Men shouted and laughed and bellowed. They grinned as they threw hands of cards and scooped coins to their heavy chests.

A woman pressed down hard on the keys of a piano, but the music was barely heard. She hit a few sour chords and no one complained as she pulled a sloshing mug, frothy with yeast and foam, to her lips. The red pigment left a rim around the basin.

Beca breathed in deep and made her way to the bar. She took a seat at the very end, palming a mix of hardened corn nuts and dried berries. She figured a tooth would be mixed in, but she shoved it past her lips without a second thought.

“Aye, if you get a disease from that mess, you canny go after us for it.” A gruff man behind the split counter grinned stupidly, Welsh accent thick and hot “What can I get for ya?”

“Anything you have,” She relented.

He seemed to like that answer; someone who was complacent compared to the high-stakes travelers that often frequented here. A mug of ale sloshed in front of her and dripped down the sides before collecting at its base. The liquor worked its ways into the cracks of the counter. She didn’t give it much time to fester, she took four even gulps until her throat burned.

“Do my eyes deceive me delicately?” There was a throaty laugh from behind her, charming and stout.

The young painter turned around, not letting her feet hit the sticky floor. It took a few moments for her eyes to drink in the sight of Emily Junk. Captain Emily Junk by the looks of it. Her white collar was soaked in blood and a long scar ran down her cheek in a pink line too crooked for comfort.

Her smile was vast and a sword hung to the tip of her leather boots, fastened to her belt. There was blood on that too, but Beca was still more than sure that it could slice skin as if it were a fine paper canvas.

“They don’t,” Beca beamed at the familiar face.

When she hugged Emily she got a healthy lung full of chewing tobacco, decaying flesh, and ocean water. She was the epitome of life on the sea as a pirate, a successful one at that. She waged that every single man and woman in here could have been a part of her crew- and if they weren’t, they were in danger of becoming so.

She gripped the woman tight, melting into her touch. Beca didn’t know if it had something to do with the familiarity of the girl, or the memories they once shared. But a few looked on as if seeing their leader display in any type of genuine affection was startling as it was sparse.

“Missed me that much, aye?” Emily said, pulling away, but keeping her hands on the painters' shoulders “You could have written.”

“And where would I have written to? The depths of the ocean as if a siren would personally hand-deliver it to a sea captain? Te sorprendería cuántas veces lo he intentado”

Emily threatened to roll her eyes before draping her arm around Beca’s shoulder and ushering her back towards her seat at the bar. This time she wasn’t alone, and the gruff man wordlessly catered to them but setting down two more mugs of copper.

“Never thought I would see you again,” Emily took a long sip “After the docks in Barcelona I figured you a famous, posh painter.”

“I’ve had my fair share of adventures. They happened to lead me to the island.”

“The island where the lord of trade himself calls home? Perched in his castle along with the beauties and treasures of life. I hear it’s right decorated up there, even for a man impossible to please.”

Beca nodded and took a long drink, running her thumb over the side of the glass, pressing hard enough to cut into tender skin. It didn’t, and she thought about her next words very carefully. “I work for him”

Emily frowned “Under him, or for him?”

“For him, under his wife,” Beca said.

“Huh... Under her, or under her?”

Beca didn’t want to fluster at the question, but she did and Emily noticed. Her cheeks blistered with color and she was hoping it had something to do with the alcohol in her unkempt system but they both knew that it didn’t. Chloe Beale had a reputation, and it had clearly hit the open waters as it had the dark taverns.

“People talk, is all” Emily scrambled to fill the silence. “I knew Garrett Beale would go after you at some hand or another. He’s a lavish man, creating a whole island just for trade of the stolen. It works in my favor, but it won’t in his, not forever.”

Beca drew in a breath “what are you implying?”

“I’m not implying anything that hasn’t already been said.”

“Ah,” Beca didn’t know how to respond so she finished off her drink and grabbed her started to stand from the stool, the crew around them were starting to get louder and smoke thicker. It was time to leave, she decided, full of ale and queasy from heat.

Emily grabbed her wrist and Beca reveled in the touch for a simple moment. It was cold and delicate, much too gentle for a pirate of her caliber. But in the end, she was still that farm girl who had sneaked onto the same ship that Beca had eight years ago.

“I’m going to say something that isn’t implied, Beca Mitchell, and I will say it strictly for the sake of our friendship.” Emily’s dark eyes were suddenly hard “You need to leave the Manor on the Hill before it’s too late. Because when the time comes, I cannot protect you, and I most certainly cannot spare her.”

[cyberp-ssy2077]

Cyberparents 2077: A Day in the Life // Part Two: Afternoon (Johnny Silverhand x Female!V)

Part One

Link to AO3!

A/N: Part two is finally here! Google "shopping cart with car" to see tyhe kind of shopping cart V is using. It's a liiiiittle angsty, so I hope I did okay!

“We should have tacos,” Sam opined with great seriousness from her seat in the plastic car that took up the front of the shopping cart.

“Sure, but what kind though? Beef, fish…?” V ventured, scanning the aisles. She was just there to pick up a couple essentials, but her daughter made an extremely compelling suggestion.

“Bleh, no fish!” Sam giggled, tugging on her little steering wheel. “Can we have chicken?”

“Now, that’s an idea,” V smiled, turning the cart towards the back of the store.

As they made their way, collecting items on their list, they inevitably drew attention. To be fair, V was eye-catching enough on her own; with her edgy haircut, riotous hair color, dark lipstick, extensive tattoos, and alluring figure, she was unapologetically alternative and rocking it. When you pair that aesthetic with a child of all things, it’s so seemingly incongruous that it seems nigh-on unnatural, to some.

Of course, when you add Johnny to the mix and all three went out together, it didn’t get any better. Sure, they got fewer comments (likely because Johnny looked like he was ready to cut a bitch at any moment), but the looks they got were still penetrating in their intensity.

V didn’t mind terribly what other people thought, especially the closed-minded people who took issue with how she presented herself. It was beneath her attention. She knew that Johnny definitely didn’t give two shits. What she struggled with, though, was the agony of Sam having to learn how to rise above others’ narrow views and how to react to them. V cast her memory back as they walked through the store, and remembered the first day that there was a real tipping point in Sam’s understanding of the situations they ended up in when they were out as a family.

V and Johnny had been waiting outside Sam’s school, waiting for the bell to ring and for their little girl to run out to them, excited and beaming, as she did every day. They were chatting and joking amongst themselves, Johnny having tucked V into his side with an arm around her waist. As time crept by, it became apparent that the school security guard was shuffling closer in their direction as he stood idly by the school gate that separated the classrooms from the parking lot.

Anyone who knew them knew that V and Johnny were not the type to be intimidated. So, they kept to themselves and ignored the encroaching party, until he was mere feet from them and began clearing his throat noisily. Johnny, in true take-no-shit fashion, raised his chin and looked the man directly in the eye.

“There a problem?”

“I could ask you folks the same thing,” the security guard replied. “There are kids getting out of school soon, so I need you to stop loitering so that parents can pick up their kids.”

Johnny pulled down his aviators and fixed the security guard with a piercing look. “Yeah, and one of those kids is my kid. Once she gets out, we’ll go.”

The guard looked taken aback at this, mentally weighing his options, and he slumped back over to the gate and pulled out his walkie-talkie, glowering at them as he brought the walkie up to his mouth.

“If he causes a fuckin’ scene…” Johnny trailed off. The sharp trilling of the bell rang out not a moment later, and soon enough kids of all ages began pouring out of the gates. V and Johnny scanned the pre-school area, and after a few moments Sam walked out.

The scene played out in slow motion; Sam’s class was led out by her teacher, and the little girl began making her way over to her parents. V glanced back at the security guard. He was no longer sulking at his post, rather walking towards Sam and calling her over once it became apparent where she was headed.

“Are you kidding me?” V asked angrily, pulling away from Johnny and marching over to where her daughter stood with the security guard. As she got closer, she started to hear what he was saying.

“...wait with me until your parents show up, okay? Just want to make sure you’re safe and nothing bad happens to you.”

Johnny had followed her as soon as he connected the dots himself, and he was fuming. “If you don’t get away from my daughter, something bad’s gonna happen to you, pal.”

Hearing her dad’s voice, Sam turned to face him and smiled. She ran over to cling against his leg and he picked her up and held her on his hip; instinctually, he wanted to be closer to her and he knew that if he had her in his hands, there was less chance that this tool would end up with a mouthful of Johnny’s chrome prosthetic in his mouth. For her part, once Sam had digested the expression on Johnny’s face and the tone of his voice, she appeared to be very confused.

Before anything serious happened, Sam’s teacher stepped in and apologized profusely to V and Johnny for the security guard’s over-zealousness. On the way home, Johnny and V had to explain to Sam why someone might assume that she doesn’t belong with them, and it broke V’s heart to see Sam’s eyes so sad. Later that night, Johnny and V sat together, both emotionally drained and contemplative over the events of the day… That wasn’t the first time something like that had happened, and it wouldn’t be the last, but it was the first time that Sam had noticed and asked about it. They were in for a long road ahead of them.

Today in the grocery store, everything seemed to be going well enough until it was time to check out. As V and Sam went through the line, Sam decided to bring up one of her favorite topics of conversation: dyeing her hair. She wanted badly to have “pretty hair” like her mom, but so far Johnny and V had held off on doing that for her due to the dark color of her locks; in order to achieve any notable change, her raven-black hair would have to be bleached. Despite their own views on self-expression and rebellion, both Johnny and V were holding off a bit when it comes to going that far with their child. In the meantime, they had the secret agreement that they would get her some hair chalk for her next birthday so that she could still join in the fun.

“I wish my hair had pretty colors,” Sam sulked, looking up at her mom with big eyes. “Me and Estrella both want pretty colors.”

Estrella was Jackie and Misty’s little girl, and Sam’s partner in crime. The two of them were thick as thieves and twice as mischievous, and of course they were universally adored by their parents and their parents’ friends. They went to the same school, despite being separated into different classes, and they both took martial arts classes together.

“What are you talking about? Your hair is a pretty color,” V said, tickling Sam’s sides as she climbed out of the cart. She noticed that the woman behind them in line was giving them a curious look, but it wasn’t outright hostile yet so V put it out of her mind. She began checking out, going through the motions of swiping her card and loading bags back into the cart.

“I want my hair to be purple!” Sam declared, smiling big. “I want it to be purple all over, like in my room!” Purple was Sam’s current color obsession, so it was not news to V that it was also the choice for her future hair color.

“That sounds pretty cool, I bet you’ll look awesome,” V replied, brimming with affection.

An intrusive voice piped up from behind them.

“You look rather young, so I’ll give you this advice: parents shouldn’t encourage such things. You never know what she’ll be asking for next.”

V pasted on her fakest smile. “Thanks, but I didn’t ask for your advice.” Ready to leave, V quickly sat Sam in the traditional shopping cart seat, facing her, and looked to make her escape. Before she got too far, Sam’s little voice piped up.

“I think you would look very nice with pink hair, ma’am,” Sam chirped, grinning toothily. The woman blustered, clearly not having a response. V couldn’t help herself, laughing out loud as they left the store. She’d have to tell Johnny about that one later, he’d get a kick out of it.

The drive to drop Sam off was rather uneventful, and Sam was bouncing in her seat by the time V put the car in park. As soon as she was let out of the car, she shot off like a rocket to the front door, with V trailing behind. By the time V got up to the porch, her perceptive (or precognitive?) friend had already let Sam in with a smile and was offering a greeting to V.

“How’s it going? You’re glowing, having a good day?” Misty asked dreamily, examining V as she handed over Sam’s dojo/overnight bag.

“Yeah, something like that,” V laughed. “We’ve had a good day so far. How are you doing?”

Misty shrugged. “Can’t complain. Star’s been bouncing off the walls all day, you’d think she didn’t just see Sam yesterday,” she said, a light smile playing on her lips.

“All right, well mine and Johnny’s cells should be on if anything comes up. I’ve got groceries in the car so I’ve gotta run, but see you tonight!”

“Yeah, sure thing,” Misty replied, glancing over her friend once more with a knowing smile. “You gonna tell him tonight?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” V replied, a massive grin betraying her words. As she hopped in the car and started to drive home, she started to feel a tingling excitement grow within her. Now, just to get through the rest of the afternoon and the evening would come soon enough.

Part Three

[nothingbutimagines]

Elizabeths (Chapter II)

Pairing: Bad boy!Peter Parker x Reader

Warning: Cursing, death, mentions of suicide

Summary: Y/n is part of her high school’s most powerful and most popular clique, but she disapproves of the other girls’ behavior. When Y/n meets the new boy in school, Peter Parker, and begins dating him, what she has known to be her clique begins to unravel. Starting with the death of the clique leader, Liz Allan, one by one, people Y/n doesn’t like begin to die by her and Peter’s hands. Soon, she realizes that Peter is killing students he hates and begins to try to foil his plans, all while clashing with the new clique leader, Elizabeth “Betty” Brant.

Author: Dizzy

A/N: This is a Peter Parker AU I thought of doing. It’s a Heathers AU!!! This is going to follow a similar plot to Heathers, but of course, I won’t keep everything the exact same. Here, we meet our protaganist, Y/n, and our love interest, JD Peter.

Masterlist Request Any Of These Peter Parker/Tom Holland Masterlist

__________________

Dear Diary,

I know I said I only fuck with the college boys and to hell with the high school ones, but goddamn, I can’t take my mind of off Peter Parker. Especially with him pulling that shit he did with the gun in the commons. 

“God, they won’t expel him. They’ll probably just suspend him for a week or something.” Lizzie insisted, clacking her croquet mallet against your own as you both chuckled. 

“He used a real gun.” Liz scoffed. “They should throw his ass in jail. Doesn’t he know today’s climate? Hasn’t he heard of Columbine?”

“No way.” You argued, leaning forward on your unused mallet as you watched Liz retie her ponytail with that red scrunchie you always hated. “He used blanks. All Peter did was ruined two pairs of pants... maybe not even that...” You and Lizzie began giggling. “I mean, can you bleach out urine stains?”

The sound of Liz knocking her mallet into the red ball and the red ball hitting Betty’s green one was a response enough. The sound was almost deafening as silence fell between you and Lizzie. 

“Ah, yes, Peter.” Liz finally spoke up, “You seem pretty amused. I thought you were over high school guys.” 

“Never say never.”

“What are you going to do, Liz? Take the two shots or knock me out?” Betty asked, her doe like eyes meeting Liz’s, making it clear she had not been paying attention to the conversation at hand. 

“Did you have a brain tumor for breakfast?” Liz snapped. “First you ask if you can be red, knowing I am always red...”

You watched as Liz took a step forward, her foot firm on her red ball as she hit the mallet against it, the red ball sending Betty’s green into the flower bed, causing you to wince as Liz grunted triumphantly. 

Liz hit her ball again, this time falling short of the wicket as she groaned, rolling her eyes. Always too cocky too early, Liz.

“Damn.” She cursed. “Anyway, I can say never to high school boys. Especially when I have Steve.” 

“Ah, yes. King Steve.” Lizzie chuckled, taking her shot and getting the yellow ball through the wicket as she squealed. 

“Maybe when you get older and actually reach maturity, you’ll understand the difference between Columbia University man like Steve and a Midtown High boy like Brad “nut-and-bolt” Davis.” 

Lizzie shrugged. “I think Brad’s sweet. Your turn, Betty!” 

Betty pouted, a whine escaping her throat as she navigated getting into the flower bed, trying to avoid the peonies your mother had planted earlier in the week. 

“No pain, no gain!” Lizzie teased.

“Give it up, girl!” You added, both of you howling at Betty. 

You watched as Betty furrowed her brow, leaning down a bit as she hit the ball. You chuckled as it bounced off a tree and then hit the fountain in the yard before rolling perfectly through the wicket. 

“Holy shit!” You gasped, howling in laughter.

“That was incredible!” Lizzie squealed.

“What. A. Shot.” Liz added, shaking her head, a mixture of pride and jealousy in her smirk. 

You began setting up your shot as Lizzie spoke up, your attention half on her and the other half on getting the shot. 

“So, tonight’s the night. Are you two excited?” Lizzie asked, glancing between both you and Liz. 

“I’m giving Y/n her shot. Her first Columbia party. You blow it tonight, girl, and it’s keggers with kids all senior year.” 

You groaned, having missed your shot. As you dropped your mallet, bending down to pick it up, you rolled your eyes as Liz’s attitude. 

“Damn.” You cursed. “So, who’s this Bucky guy I’ve been set up with? Witty and urban pre-law or an idiot and savant art major?”

“Don’t worry.” Liz rolled her eyes. “Steve says he’s very. So he’s very.”

“I doubt it.” You muttered, knowing full well the only boy you wanted to be set up with is the bad boy wannabe from the commons. 

“Lizzie! Your mom is here!” Your mother called before Liz could open her mouth to say anything further. 

“Come on, whoever wants a ride!” Lizzie announced. “Bye, Y/n. Good luck.” 

“Yeah, good luck.” Betty agreed as she rushed past, following Lizzie and Liz up the stairs. 

You dropped your mallet and followed behind the girls, waving them off as they cut through the side of the house and off the property. You took a seat at the table on the patio as your father took a seat beside you, James Patterson book in hand as you mother joined you both, salsa and chips on the platter clutched in her fists. 

“So, what was the first week of Spring Break withdrawal like?” Your father asked, leaning past your slouching figure to grab a chip. 

“Hey, kid, isn’t the prom coming up?” Your mother asked before you could answer your father.

You shrugged with a smile. “I guess it is.”

“Any contestants worth mentioning?” 

“Maybe. I guess you could say there is a bit of a dark horse in the running.”

“Goddamn. Why do I even read these damn Patterson books. Bastard probably doesn’t even write them.” Your father chimed in, looking up at you.

“Because you’re an idiot.” You beamed, laughing alongside him for a moment. 

“Oh, yeah. That’s it.”

“You two...” Your mother smiled, shaking her head.

“Thanks for the salsa.” You rose from your seat. “But I gotta motor if I want to be ready for that party tonight.” 

Dear Diary,

When you fuck with the eagles, you gotta learn to fly. Columbia is Liz kicking my ass out of the nest, whether I like it or not. And to be honest, I don’t wanna fucking fly. 

You opened the car door, the cold night breeze chilling you to the bone as you slammed the door shut, wincing as you knew Liz would scold you for your improper behavior later. Tugging at the length of your sleeves, you walked towards the 7-11.

“Corn nuts!” Liz yelled, half her body out the car window as she yelled at you. 

Without looking back, you waved her off, tempted to just give her the middle finger and call it a night. 

You swung the door open, the warm draft greeting you as you made a beeline to the Corn Nuts, hoping to get in and get out and get this goddamn Columbia party over with. 

“You going to get a Big Gulp with that?” A voice erupted from behind you as you turned around, the bag of Corn Nuts you needed in hand. 

“No, but if you’re nice, I’ll let you buy me a Slurpee.” You teased, meeting Peter’s eyes, or rather, eye, as the other was covered by his falling bang. “You sure do know your 7-11 slang.” 

“I’ve moved around all my life; Baton Rouge, Vegas, Dallas, Suburbia. There’s always been a 7-11. The only stability. Any town, any time, I can pop a chicken sandwich in the microwave and feast on a tornado. Keeps me sane.” He explained, his hand shaking next to his head at the end of his speech. 

“Really?” You asked, “I don’t know, I mean, that thing you pulled today was pretty severe.”

“The extreme always makes an impression, but you’re right, it was pretty severe. Did you say a Coke or Cherry Slurpee?” 

“I didn’t.” You pulled a red vine from the open box at the counter. “Cherry.” 

You smiled, taking a bit out of the vine as you twirled it between your fingers, Peter matching your expression. You took the Slurpee from his hand and followed him to the counter, the silence between you comfortable as he paid for the snacks you collected and you followed him outside. 

You shivered in the cold air, the thought that getting a Slurpee was a good idea now turning in your mind. 

“Great bike.” You nodded to the motorcycle as Peter took a seat on it. 

Liz honked her horn, causing you to tear your gaze from Peter as she gave you an agitated look, only for you to return the gesture with a glare and turn back to Peter.

“Just a humble perk from my uncle’s construction company or should I say deconstruction company?” 

“I don’t know, should you?”

“My uncle seems to enjoy tearing things down more than building things up. Seen the commercial? ‘Bringing every State to a Higher State.’“

“Oh, shit.” You gasped, connecting the dots as you playfully hit Peter’s shoulder. “Peter Parker... Your uncle’s Big Ben Parker Construction. Must be rough, moving place to place.”

Peter shrugged. “Everybody’s got some static in their life. Is your life perfect?”

You scoffed. “Sure, I’m going to a Columbia University party.”

Liz honked the horn again, letting her hand rest on the horn for a little longer as you frowned.

“It’s not perfect.” Your tone was serious. “I don’t really like my friends.”

“I don’t really like your friends either.” Peter shook his head, a low chuckle escaping his lips. 

“It’s like they’re just people I work with and our job is being popular and shit.” 

“Maybe it’s time for a vacation.” 

Liz’s horn blared again as you waved at Peter, starting to walk away. “You’re telling me!”

Dear Diary,

The day I take a vacation, that’ll be the day Liz Allan is dead. Until then, I’m stuck doing my job being her popular lap dog and sucking her dick by telling her how hot and popular she is. 

You could barely suppress a look of disgust as you followed Liz and Steve through the crowded dormitory hallway and into Steve’s dorm. You hated Steve. Sleazy, sweaty, somewhat mediocre looking Steve. You could feel the clot of bile creep up your throat as Steve held the door open for you, the sick smell of cheap beer and sweat so pungent your eyes teared up. 

“You can just throw your coats down on the bed, girls.” Steve instructed as both you and Liz slipped off your coats and did as you were told. 

You watched as Steve walked away for a moment, you assumed to get Bucky as you looked at Liz, who was watching them as well, the doe like look in her eyes telling you that she was in love with him. That for some reason, the clever bitch fell for the disgusting college guy. 

“Y/n, this is Buck.” Steve introduced the other boy, his hand clasped on his shoulder as he guided him to you. 

“Excellent.” Bucky nodded, his eyes tracing over your form as you held back a frown. “Did you girls bring your partying boots?”

“Yeah, let’s party.” Liz smiled, jerking you to get you to do the same. 

Steve chuckled, throwing his arm around Liz as he looked at her. “What can I say? She loves to party.” 

Dear Diary, 

I want to kill and you have to believe... damn pen! 

“So, are you a cheerleader?” Bucky asked, his back against the tacky blue and grey striped wallpaper.

“Not at all.” You gagged, the smell of beer and cigarettes on his breath making you nauseous as you took a sip of the drink in your hand. 

“You’re pretty enough to be one.”

“Gee, thanks.” 

“It’s so great to be able to talk to a girl without having to ask ‘what’s your major?’ I hate that.” Bucky took a sip of his beer before continuing, “So, when you go to college, what do you think you’ll study?”

You have to believe it’s for more than selfish reasons. More than a spoke in my menstrual cycle. You have to believe me. 

Bucky had given up on conversation, you could tell by the way he shifted on his heels uncomfortably. It’s not like you minded, nor cared, since you debated finding Liz’s coat and stealing her car, leaving her in your dust. 

Goddamn Liz. Goddamn Columbia guys. Goddamn you for agreeing to be here.

“So, what do you say we go up to my dorm and have a real party? I’ve got the best rap mix in the whole dorm.” Bucky’s voice pulled you from your thoughts as another boy approached.

“Buck, man,” The boy jerked Bucky around by the shoulder, “Nick’s been looking for you. He says he owes you for blow and he just got some shit himself.”

“You’re kidding. Asshole really scored some of his own?”

“He’s in Nat’s room. Go, man. Party on.”

“Excellent.” Bucky finally turned to you, as if he forgot you were even there, “Y/n, you ever do coke?”

“Ever since writing that DARE essay in fifth grade, I refuse everything.” 

“DARE? Are you sure that shit still works?”

You smacked your forehead lightly. “Oh, geez, right! I wrote that at eleven. Might as well do drugs now since I’m not so stupid!” 

You groaned, pushing through the crowded hallway back to where you and Liz had thrown your coats. 

“Hey, don’t run off, now!” Bucky called out, following behind you closely.

Seventeen is the last year Mom buys the Twinkies. When you make the jump from working at Pizza Hut on the weekends to working thirty years at I.B.M, when you lose something, not innocence - power.

You swung open the door to the room, throwing yourself on the stack of coats on the couch beside the door. Setting your glass of vodka in your lap, you pulled out the matchbook you’d gotten at the 7-11. You struck a match, holding your hand over the flame, bringing it closer and closer until the red light licks your hand, causing you to shriek in pain. You dropped the match into the glass, shocked when it catches fire. Giggling to yourself, you toss the glass out the open window; out of sight, out of mind.

“There you are.” Bucky’s voice has you rolling your eyes as you turn to him. “How’s my little cheerleader? Now I know everyone at your high school isn’t so uptight, come on.” 

His hand was coated in sticky sweat as it touched your tight covered thigh and his breath was hot and warm as his leaned in too close to your face. 

“Hey, I really don’t feel so great.” You argued, shoving him away from you as you shot up off the couch. 

“Let’s do it on the coats.” He grinned, oblivious to your side of the conversation. “It’ll be excellent.”

“You know, I have a little prepared speech I give when my suitor wants more than I’d like to give him. Gee, Blank, I had a nice-”

“Save the speeches for Malcolm X. I just wanna get laid.” Bucky chuckled, cutting off your sentence before you could even get the bulk of it out. 

You yanked your coat out from under him, sending him sliding off the couch and to the floor.

“You don’t deserve my fucking speech.” You huffed, stepping over him and storming out the door.

You slow as you realized you now gained Liz’s attention, along with Steve’s as Bucky emerges from the “coat” room. You can tell by the falling smiles on both Steve’s and Liz’s faces as Bucky spews some words you can’t hear that they are more than pissed at you. You watch, your eyes widening as Liz slides her beer glass on the table beside her, steel-faced as she approaches you. 

“What’s your damage? Bucky says you’re being a real cooze.” Liz snapped.

“Liz, I feel awful, like I’m going to throw up. Can we jam, please?”

“Hell no.”

You couldn’t help it, the sudden clot in your throat was replaced with actual vomit as you leaned against the wall, rendered unable by your sudden fatigue to make it to the bathroom. You leaned over, vomit spilling onto the carpet and splatter hitting Liz’s red heels. Groaning, you charge down the hallway and out the door, determined to make it back to the car as Liz follows close behind. 

Christ, I can’t explain it, but I’m allowed an understanding that my parents and these Columbia University assholes have chosen to ignore. I must stop Liz.

“You stupid cunt!” Liz roared, the trash can fire casting shadows on her face as you shivered in the cool night air. 

“You goddamn bitch!” 

“You were nothing before you met me! You were playing Barbies with Cindy Moon! You were a Brownie, you were a Bluebird, you were a Girl Scout Cookie! I got you into a Columbia University party! What’s my thanks? It’s on the hallway carpet. I got paid in puke!” 

“Like it up, baby. Lick. It. Up.”

“Monday morning, you’re history. I’ll tell everyone about tonight. Transfer to Washington. Transfer to Jefferson. No one at Midtown is going to let you play their reindeer games.”

Cindy Moon was a real friend and I sold her out for a bunch of Swatchdogs and Diet Cokeheads. Killing Liz’d be like offing the Wicked Witch of the West. Or is it East? West! I sound like a fucking psycho. Tomorrow I’ll be kissing her aerobicized ass, but tonight, let me dream of a world without Liz. A world where I am free. 

You couldn’t help but fling your diary across the room, the satisfying thud from it hitting the wall beside your window soothing you as you wallowed in anger. You gasp as you hear a sound at the window, looking up, you tear off your glasses and make eye contact with one Peter Parker. 

“Dreadful etiquette, I apologize.” 

“It’s okay...” You replied breathlessly.

“I saw the croquet set out back, you up for a match?”

Your heart was still racing, however instead of the initial shock, it was now revving up with anxiety as you looked at the boy in your bedroom. Was he even really there? Or was he just an anger fueled hallucination?

“Sure. But I’m blue.”

Dear Diary,

When did my life become reminiscent of a YA novel? When did I come to believe it wasn’t weird that Peter Parker was coming through my window? Did Twilight finally condition me into believing odd behavior was true romance?

“Now I can see why you looked so mangled when I came up.” Peter shook his head, his voice soft. 

You shifted so that your head was on his bare chest, your eyes focused on the pile of his clothes that sat beside him. 

“I’ve always treated Liz’s drama queen plays as bullshit, but I’m honestly really scared. Who am I going to sit with at lunch on Monday?” You groaned, leaning back onto the grass, the blades pricking your bare shoulders. “God, I sound like I’m from Riverdale.” 

“Are girls really that bad?” 

“It’s a dog eat dog world.” You shrugged. “It feels like it’s either kill yourself or get told to kill yourself.”

“Geez.” Peter shook his head. “That was my first game of strip croquet, by the way. I thank you.”

“You’re welcome. It’s a lot more interesting than flinging your clothes off and going at it on a neighbor’s swing set.”

“Well, I don’t know, there’s something to be said for- ouch!” 

You chuckled as the blue mallet that was stuck in the ground fell over and hit the boy. He handed you your panties that fell along with the mallet before sliding on his own underwear. 

“What a night.” You giggled, slipping on your panties as you kissed him softly and stood up. “What a life. I almost moved into high school right out of sixth grade because I was some sort of genius. But of course, my mother was too scared I wouldn’t make friends, so we chucked the idea and blah, blah, blah.”

You searched the yard for your clothes, cursing Peter silently for allowing you to toss them around instead of into a neat pile like he had done. You picked up your shirt and pants, gathering up your socks and slippers before putting them on as you spoke.

“But now blah-blah-blah is all I ever do. I use my grand I.Q. to decide what shade of lip gloss to buy and how to hit three keggers before curfew. Some genius.” 

“Liz Allan is one bitch that deserves to die.” Peter blurted out, making it clear he wasn’t listening to you. 

“Killing her won’t solve anything.”

“A well time lighting bolt on her walk into school on Monday morning, all the other Elizabeths, shit, the whole school, would be cut loose.”

“Well, then, I will pray for rain.” You chuckled. “A flowerpot falling from the window sill would work just as well, more likely to happen too.”

“You see those condoms in the grass? We killed it tonight, Y/n. We killed our baby.” 

“Hey, it was good for me too, imbecile.”

“I’m just saying. It’s not hard to end a life.”

“There’s a big difference between killing the prom queen and busting into a condom.”

You both laugh as Peter finally starts getting dressed. 

“I guess I don’t know what I’m talking about. After all, there’s only one genius here.”

“I know exactly what the hell you’re talking about and you’re right, you don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. Why don’t we just graduate, grow old and be adults, and then die?” 

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

“But before we do that, I want to see Liz Allan spew chunks so we can call it even.”

_____________________

Tagged: @thewinchesterchronicles @spookyanairwin @audreylovespidey706 @asonofpeter​ @halparkebitch​

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[heartofsnark]

Can You Feel The Sun? (Chapter Six): Do I Sink or Do I Float Now?

Notes: Still posting my little backlog of chapters!~  In this one we get Maelstrom, along with some Vik and Misty interactions that were really fun to write of course heavy on our precious boy Jackie too. 

Word Count:  9004

Chapter Warnings: Canon typical violence, cursing, installation of cyberware.

If you haven’t yet, you can read the previous chapter here!~

With a tightness in her chest and a heavy sigh, V answers Dex’s call. She’ll play it by ear and maybe wait until they’re in person to drop the news about Evelyn. The client really had to drag her into this bullshit, didn’t she? 

“How're things lookin', Miss. V?”

“Client had a recording that helped us out, Konpeki Plaza.”

“Beautiful. T-Bug already called, said she's workin' her magic. And the Flathead?”

“On it now and quick question, how are we getting into Konpeki?” 

“Through the front door, how else? I'm no leadhead. Ain't gonna leave no trace for them to follow 'cause we gonna do this clean an' on the hush-hush,” Dex confirms her beliefs, she needs cyberware, something. 

“Got it, on my way to get the Flathead, now.” 

“T-Bug says no chance at the chip without that bot. To work, then, Miss V.” 

He hangs up and V leaves Lizzie’s bar, night air cold on her exposed skin. She’ll swing by her apartment, drop by Vik’s, and then meet up with Jackie at All Foods. V makes a beeline to her car, starting a call and patching a call to Jackie through the radio speaker. 

“Jackie,” she signs one handed as she drives, “Met the client. Her name's Parker. Evelyn Parker.”

“OK. Whatcha waitin' for? Gimme the deets. Who is she? What's she like?”

“Shady as fuck. Doll, I think, fucks Yorinobu Arasaka and now she wants to fuck him over.” 

“Don’t seem that odd.” 

“She’s...off, Jackie. Hiding something, big, I just. Don’t trust her, don’t think she’s a bad person, just… not to be trusted.” 

“Yeah, sounds like nerves talkin' to me. Makes everyone seem suspect. Stress can kill you, y'know.”

“Yeah, yeah, so you tell me.” 

“What about Militech?” 

“I met with the corpo.” 

“V… “ 

“Hear me out, woman gave me hell and a spiked chip, wanted me to pay on Militech’s dime but the chip would have fried Maelstrom and left us cleaning up the mess.” 

“Of course, I told you, V.” 

“But, I managed to crack it. Maelstrom plays nice, I got a clean ten grand off of Maelstrom. Chrome snorters pull bullshit; we fuck them and send a middle finger to Militech while we’re at it. We can talk it out more when we meet.”  

“Alright, waitin' for ya at All Foods, ya know. Not gettin' any younger.”

“Well, grab something to eat, going to be a while longer.” 

“Chingada madre, V, what now?” 

“Konpeki Plaza, hotel we got to get into. They have a no weapon policy and way Dex talks that the only way in, is through the front door. “ 

“And?” 

“And, if shit goes sideways, I don’t want to be caught with my pants down,  in a gunfight without a weapon. Need cyberware, something they can’t confiscate, so I’ll be ready for worst case scenario. So, I’m grabbing my savings and making a trip to see Vik.” 

“Stress stress, all you do is stress, but I’m glad you’re finally spending your fucking money. What you trying to get?” 

“You’ll see when we meet up, who knows, might end up using it on some Maelstrommers.” 

“Hehe, see you soon, V.” 

V hangs up and parks outside her megabuilding, sliding her mask off and into her bag before running in. She keeps her head down and doesn’t talk as she rushes to just get her stash of cash out from under the bed. Willing the elevator to move faster and annoyed when she presses her hand to the intercom to unlock her door and it takes a second too long for the lock to validate her SID chip. She opens the under bed  compartment, finding her money stash next to her toy stash. Then it’s back out to her car and driving out to Vik’s. 

She parks in the same place Jackie did that morning, keeping her head down as she wades through the crowd, trying not to stare at the strippers in the club window across from Misty’s store and avoiding eye contact with Gary; the slightly crazy homeless man who likes to yell about conspiracies.  V peeks into Misty’s shop and smiles when she sees the woman at the little register and desk. Her face lit by the cyan neon sign advertising her prices for chakra readings. 

“Hey, V.” Misty smiles at her, she’s the cutest little thing, granted she’s a bit taller than V. A short airy chin length bob of bleached hair, heavy black makeup, and big green eyes. 

“Hey, Misty,” V signs as she walks in, her choker translator already turned on

“Heard you and Jackie have a new job.” There’s a hint of something sad to her voice, a pain to her eyes. 

“You don’t seem excited.” 

“Just...worried; bigger jobs, bigger risks.” 

“I know, I’ll do my best to watch out for him, promise.” 

“I know you will, V.” 

“You’ll have to read our cards when you get the chance.” Its become a tradition, the little peek into the future easing some of Misty’s nerves. 

“Please, Jackie’s heart chakra was a little out of whack and his aura needs tending. Keep him away from mean reds, if you can.” 

“I’ll do my best.” 

“Speaking of which…” 

“Oh no.” 

“You need to let me adjust your chakras, V!~” 

“Yeah… I don’t know about that one…” 

“Your crown and throat chakras are so messy, heart chakra too actually, you’re just spiritually kind of a wreck, V.” 

“You can tell that just by looking at me.” 

“I could tell after my first conversation with you.” 

“Funny, I’ll think about it. For now, I got to see Vik.” 

“He’s in the clinic, go on in.” 

V gives Misty a pat on the shoulder as she walks around and goes out the back door of the older woman’s store into the alleyway behind it. A soft meow rings out, just before the stairs that go down to Vik’s is a little sphinx cat with big golden eyes. The merc crouches down and scritches it’s back, smiling at the cutie, softly meowing back at it. Its such a cute kitty. One more little pat and she separates herself from the cat and goes down the stairs to Vik’s clinic. She’s not sure how Vik can stand to stay in the dank basement level clinic all day, but she’s thankful he’s always easy to find when she needs him. Through the little metal gateway door she can already see him at a workbench, watching a boxing match on a small TV. 

“Viky! How’s my favorite ripper?” She greets him as she walks through, grinning as the older man spins his chair to look at her. 

The ripper’s eyes drop down for a second seeing the box she has held to her stomach with one arm. He smiles softly, the expression forming wrinkles around his eyes. He’s an older man, dark hair just starting to thin on the back of his head. Tattooed forearms with memories of his boxing days and tinted glasses on his nose. 

“Good to see you too, V. It's been a while. To what do I owe the pleasure today?”

“Got a new gig, new fixer, sure Jackie’s already talked your ear off about it.” 

“Dexter Deshawn…  Known quantity, from the Afterlife. No denying you're movin' up…” Vik tells her but there’s a drag in his voice, V is starting to get the distinct impression that no one is as excited for this as her and Jackie are. Hell, she’s not even as excited as Jackie, Evelyn’s offer still heavy on her mind. 

“Something you’re not telling me?” 

“Keep your guard up, that's all. I've heard some things about Dex. He's not as "chill" as he makes himself out to be.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she nods, Dex doesn’t seem to shady at the moment, but she trusts Vik’s opinion, “as for right now, plan is for me and Jackie to get into a hotel, pretend we’re guests. Hotel’s got a strict no guns policy, so… need a weapon they can’t take off of me.” 

“That so? You finally caving and getting the projectile launcher?” 

“No, I was thinking Mantis Blades, actually. Quieter, if shit goes off the rails it’d be better to have something that doesn’t tell everyone where we are.” 

“And you get to add two more blades to your collection,” Vik teases, knowing her affinity for swords, knives, and daggers over firearms. 

“Hey, doesn’t hurt to stick to what I know, besides with shit getting real… need better tech.” 

“Well alright,” Vik stands and kicks away his wheeled seat, walking towards his work station, and getting the injector, “but lemme guess- hasn’t paid you yet.” 

“No, but, I brought what I got. I know it’s not enough but, if you’re fine with me paying so much now and the rest later, I-” 

Vik puts a hand up and stops her from pushing the little box of cash at him, a soft smile on his face. Jackie likes to say Vik has a soft spot for her, sometimes she doubts it but when he gives her that soft almost kind fatherly look, she can’t help but think Jackie might be right. 

“Keep it.” 

“No, don’t be ridiculous, I should at least give you something upfront, I-” 

“We'll work something out later. Right now I'm just out to make sure you get back in one piece. Keep that back for now and we can figure it out once you get paid, alright?” 

“Got no idea what I did to deserve you, Vik.” 

“Who knows?” He laughs and shoots an injection into his forearm, to help steady and loosen up his organic hand, flexing the fingers on his ripper glove, “go ahead and get comfy.” 

V nods and puts her cash stash in her bag before climbing up into the doctor’s chair, taking a deep breath. Even with Vik, the only doctor she trusts, she always finds herself nervous in his chair. She’s slowly grown more accustomed to the importance of cyberware and tech in Night City, but it still just feels overwhelming at times to think of carving out pieces of herself for it. V is fairly sure other than monks she’s one of the only people past the age of eighteen who doesn’t have optics, kids carving their eyes out as soon as a doc is willing to do it. This is important, she needs to be prepared for the worst case scenario, but she is about to have a significant portion of her arms removed to be replaced with swords. The gravity of that still sits heavy on her chest. 

“Jack in and lay those major league arms down for me.” 

Vik pulls up two tables on each side of the chair and V lays her arms down for him, trying to steady her breathing. Her eyes linger on the brand on her left wrist, the one that marked her place within her nomad clan.  She wonders if that part of her arm will be taken off, skin removed with synthetic Real Skin stuff.  He sits in his little wheeled stool, looking over her scans. 

“Looks like you’ve actually been taking your meds.” 

“Got an alarm on my phone now, nearly forgot just this morning,” she switches to spoken English, though her hands twitch to sign, she doesn’t want to move them just in case. 

“Whatever helps, last thing you need is your body trying to kill itself.” 

“But it's so good at that.” 

“Oh I know it is,” he pushes himself to get to the other side of the table, pushing a sharp injection into her arm just below her elbow, “a bit of anesthetic.” Then he pushes her sleeve up higher, so he can reach her bicep, another shot. 

“What’s that one?” 

“Anti-anxiety, though judging by the wide eyed look on your face, it’s gonna take a second to kick in.” 

“Oh, yeah… sorry.” 

“It's okay, know this ain’t your thing. Most arm cyberware is fairly invasive, but I got some tricks up my sleeve. Do my best to give you the tech you need and leave as much ‘ganic material intact as I can.” 

“I know, I trust you.”

Slowly, her body numbs. The strong anesthetic spreads into her blood and impacting every inch of her. Her breathing feels more stable and her heart rate seems to slow back to normal, a sense of calm coming over her. Vik is a good man, she knows that, he’d never do anything that isn’t needed and wouldn’t ever try to hurt her. He starts to roll out the tech to carve her arms open and put blades inside. 

She closes her eyes and lays her head back, because she doesn’t want to see, it will just freak her out more. Put her trust in fate and more importantly Vik to take care of it. V feels nothing, only soft whirrs of tech. 

“Feel anything?” 

“Never do. Ask me that every time, you know. Not as if things are gonna be any different today.”

“Sure thing, kid, I mean not like there's any risk of a stroke or paralysis. But... heh, what do I know? I'm just a doctor.”

“Okay, okay, I getcha.” 

“You got your contacts with you?” 

“Yeah, in my bag.” 

“Once we get your blades in, I’ll take a look at them, think we can bump them up with some Kiroshi tech.”

“You’re the best, Vik.” 

“So, I’ve heard.” 

“Oh, nearly forgot, you’ll get a kick out of this. Coach Fred in my building wants me to do some fights.” 

“Does he now?” 

“Mmhmm, really tried to sell it too, he believes in me. Dude, I’m fucking five feet tall, but okay.” 

“Well,” Vik chuckles, “to be fair, you may be small, but I’ve seen you take down guys twice your size.” 

“That’s merc work, Vik; don’t think they’d let me stab my opponent in the ring.” 

“That is usually frowned upon.” 

They make small talk as he works, the chatter easing her nerves, the little traces of anxiety the medicine can’t touch. Vik tries to convince her she could hold her own in a boxing fight, though unlike Coach Fred, it feels less like a sales pitch coming from Vik. From him it feels more like a dad trying to convince their kid they’ll be good at soccer if they just get out there and try it. 

“Alright, we’re done, kid. Take a look.” 

V takes a deep breath and does just that, Looking down at arms that still seem to be very much her own but with silver detailing from her knuckles to her elbows. They look nice, the Mantis Blades and Projectile Launcher are the better looking arm cyberware options in her opinion. Like accents, little detailing, rather than making arms look more tech than flesh. It’s her nails still, painted her favorite bright blue, she can still see her freckles. And when she twists her forearms she finds her brand still there. 

“Wow, really did save as much skin as you could.” 

“Mmhmm, still you, just a few added touches. The blades act on intention and reflex, stand up and give it a try. Just don’t cut anything I need.”

V gets out of the chair, taking a few steps to the most cleared off portion of the room. Vik scoots himself back on the stool. Just what she’d need, to finally get cyberware beyond the basics and end up accidentally gutting her favorite ripper. With the thought and a tensing of her forearms, the blades extend out. 

“Woah.” 

She marvels at it, the way her flesh has opened up, can see the metal compartment almost where the blades were stored and hidden inside. Carefully, she retracts the blade in one arm to touch the other. Curiously she touches where the skin meets metal, nerves in the flesh still, but when she touches inside of the compartment she feels nothing. She presses down into the steel and when she does so hard enough, she can feel it start to put pressure on real organic tissue. She pulls her fingers away and retracts the blade; extending and pulling them back a few times, getting the feel for them. 

“Take it you’re a fan?” 

“Its so cool.” 

“Still wish you got the Launcher instead?” 

“Maybe a little bit,” she tests out signing, thankful the metal additions don’t interfere with her ability to do it, “I’m good with knives and katanas, so having a cannon in my arm would add a bit of variety.”

“Maybe your next job.” 

“You can take them out and do that?” 

“Mmhmm, now-a-days even the military grade stuff is designed to be adaptable, you can rip ‘em out and change it up whenever you see fit. So, you can have whatever new tech you want when you want it.” 

“The innovations of consumerism, huh?” 

“Something like that,” he laughs, “hand me your contacts and I’ll upgrade them for you.” 

She does just that, watching him take the contacts and put them in a device. While he tinkers with those, V keeps playing with her new toys. Making sure she knows exactly what will and won’t trigger the blades. Flexing alone won’t extend them, folding and twisting her forearms. It requires the intention too, linked to she assumes her neural plants and cyberdeck.  Which means she should be able to hug someone without decapitating them, a skill she does occasionally enjoy having. Even if Jackie says her hugs are half ass.  Got to hug people like you’ll never see them again, because in Night City that might be the case; according to him. 

“All done, test them out,” Vik hands her back the contact case and she carefully places them in. The interface lights up for a moment, adjusting to the new tech.  She looks around, her vision a bit clearer. 

“Image looks clearer.” 

“Installed threat detection and weak spot detection tech too. Anyone who isn’t known to you, who the soft picks up as an enemy sees you, it’ll highlight them and tell you what their weak points are.” 

“That’s awesome, I don’t know what to say Vik, this is incredible.” 

“Figured, if you needed the blade for some hotel, you’d probably have to ditch the mask. So, it doesn't hurt to bump up the contacts.” 

“Yeah...oh…guess your right, can’t play corp hotel guest in a mask, can I…” 

“Just now realizing that?” 

“Maybe… but more importantly. The blades, the contacts. I don’t know what to say, Vik, I…”

“Say you’ll take this and remember the dosage. Two whiffs now and another two in an hour,” he hands her a medicine inhalant, “mild stim. Should boost neurotransmission in the short term and muffle some of the side effects while the implant takes.”

“Thanks Vik, seriously, I owe you big. You sure you don’t want some cash up front? I really don’t mind, I-” 

“Won’t hear it. Go on, kid. Show 'em what you're made of,” he grins at her, rolling back over to his desk, “And once you hit the big leagues, don't forget where you came from.”

A part of her wonders if it’s meant as a joke or a serious concern, knowing how much he seemed to worry about her getting a job from Dex. No matter if she hits the major leagues, Vik will always be her go to ripper. She comes up behind him where he’s gone back to watching TV and throws an arm around his neck in a sort of hug, squeezing him close. The kind of hug Jackie would mock, but full scale embraces are still...weird. 

“Couldn’t if I tried, Vik, thanks again.” 

“No problem, kiddo,” he pats her hand where it sits on his chest, “grab your candy and get going.”  

V giggles, and  pats his shoulder as she pulls away. She wonders if any of his other patients end up grabbing candy from the bowl on his desk. If Vik does the same joke with anyone else now that she kicked it off, a part of her hopes not. She grabs a handful of honeyed candies, popping one in her mouth as she leaves his clinic through the metal gate. The cat is still there when she gets back out to street level, she gives it a few more scratches, then takes the pathway back through Misty’s shop. 

“Vik take care of you?” The bleached blonde greets V as she comes in. 

“Sure did, I got swords in my arms.” 

That gets a giggle out of her, V showing off the indentations and designs of the Mantis Blades. Misty runs her fingers along them, smiling at the merc. 

“Very nice, take it you’re off to meet Jackie, now?”  There’s still some worry in Misty’s eyes, a sadness to her tone. 

“Yeah, got to get a combat bot. Shouldn’t take too long, Maelstrom isn’t anything we haven’t handled before. You know that.” 

“I do, I do,” Misty fiddles her fingers together, “its not them I’m worried about, it’s just this whole… thing with Dex and this heist. Just got a bad feeling. The bigger your jobs get, the more risks, you know. I’m sorry...sure you don’t want to hear me whine.” 

“Hey, hey,” V touches Misty’s shoulder, “its not whining. You love Jackie, it’s only natural to be worried.” 

“Thanks, Jackie thinks this job will set us up for life, that he’ll finally be able to take care of me like I deserve… “

“And what do you think?” 

“That is dreams are gonna get him killed one day and he doesn’t seem to care…” 

“He cares, he does. He just...thinks the risk is worth it, that if he does this he can build a better future.” 

“I know, just can’t shake the feeling he’s flying too close to the sun, I guess,” Misty says, wrapping her arms around herself. V knows that anxiety well and can’t say she even has the best feeling about this job. But, this is too good of an opportunity to pass up. 

“Hey, want to go ahead and do that tarot reading? Might make you feel better, see what the fates got in store.” 

“Yeah,” Misty smiles softly, “I’d like that.” 

Misty grabs her deck, the one V and Jackie picked out for her, as the merc comes around to the other side of the table. Jackie and V will be with each other the whole time, so if V’s future comes up clean, it means he can’t be too bad off. If nothing else, it offers a little distraction from anxiety and it won’t kill Jackie to wait just another ten or so minutes. 

“If my future’s clean, Jackie’s won’t be too bad. Guy’s always had better luck than me, anyway.” 

“I think he’d say otherwise,” Misty laughs, shuffling the cards, “now, focus on the recent past and what you expect in the future.” 

First card down, a man walking towards a cliff with a dog trotting along after him. 

“The Fool, that’d be you.” 

“So the cards think I’m an idiot, cool,” V rolls her eye, not missing the shadow of a smile across Misty’s lips. 

“The Fool symbolizes the beginning of a journey. You brim with enthusiasm, yet remain unaware of both your capabilities and the threats you face.”

“So...the cards think I'm an idiot.” 

“Just a little bit,” Misty teases, laying down the next card, “The Wheel of Fortune,. The danger is greater than you think. It will come suddenly, without warning. Conflict is unavoidable.”

“Fair enough.” 

Another card down, this one upside down. 

“The reversed Chariot reveals that such danger is tied to your love of risk. Do not aim too high, V.”

“I’m short, got nowhere else to aim.” 

Misty looks up at V under her brow, despite the hint of a smile, the meaning is clear. This is serious and V should take it with some level of seriousness. But, if she’s honest, V’s just happy to see Misty smiling at all. 

“And finally, The Magician… interesting.” 

“Why’s that?” 

“You may meet someone fascinating, someone charismatic. Maybe even someone you will grow to love?”

“Ew.”

Misty laughs as V makes a face at the word love and how Misty dragged the word out; the implication clear and gross. Why the fuck is fate concerned with V’s romantic life when she’s about to pull off a heist on Ara-fucking-Saka. 

“You can’t ‘ew’ fate, V!” Misty scolds her between giggles, smile now wide and bright. 

“I can when fate is being fucking gross.” 

“Love isn’t gross, V. It's beautiful.”  

“Ew.” 

“Get out of my shop,” Misty laughs and rolls her eyes, putting the cards back in her deck. 

“Talk to you, later.” 

Misty waves her off and V leaves out, content that she lightened Misty’s mood if only for a moment. She avoids eye contact with Gary as she makes a beeline back to her car, putting her new contacts back in the case and that in her bag. As useful as they are, she’ll use her mask for the Maelstrom job. For the usual reasons; enjoying her anonymity and well, people tend to take her a bit more seriously when they can’t see her baby face.  

V pulls up outside of All Foods, an abandoned food plant that Maelstrom has turned into their newest HQ.  Jackie is already parked sitting on his arch, poor guy has been waiting on her for entirely too long.  She puts her mask back on and hops out, walking up towards him, seeing his posture brighten up when he spots her walking down the street. 

“About time, V. Mi madre always said patience pays off, but christ.” 

“Sorry, a lot of shit to take care of. Most prepwork we’ve ever had to put in.” 

“Well, fill me in.” 

“Ran through the BD with the client and T-Bug, know where the chip is and where we’re trying to get too. But we need the bot from Maelstrom to nuke the hotel’s subnet and make sure we don’t catch lead from a turret. Dex paid them for it, but we got no idea if they’re going to honor that.” 

“He paid up front, hijole.” 

“Yep, I met up with the Militech rep too. Gave me the spiked chip, but I reworked it. Got a chip with clean eddies on it and a newly...adjusted… chip that will spike Maelstrom and Militech.” 

“So, what’s the play?” 

“Doubt they’re going to just honor the original buy, but if they play nice, figured we return the favor. Give them the clean eddies and call it done.” 

“But Maelstrom don’t play nice.  Gang world ain't too complicated, Might's right, the strong survive. Either you fuck others, or you get fucked.”

“Then we fuck them over right back, they want to play dirty, give them the spiked chip and take what we want. Spike chips in my left pocket, clean one in the right,” she pats her pockets, “so if you see me get the chip from the left, get ready.” 

“Understood and the new chrome?” 

“Mantis Blades, like I said, hotels got a no iron policy and if shit goes wrong, I want to be ready. And, hell, if Maelstrom plays dirty, I might get a little practice tonight.” 

“How the hell you swing those?” 

“Vik, gave me chrome on credit, again. Too nice for his own good, I swear.” 

“Pff,” Jackie laughs, “only when it comes to you, chica.” 

“Don’t know why.” 

“Told ya, he says you got a good heart. Probably give you a second one for free just for that.” 

“Enough, enough; lets get this taken care of.” 

“Into the borgbeasts den, then.” 

“Onward.”  With that Jackie climbs off his bike, leading the way and she follows behind. 

“I hate these 'borg fuckers. Just had to be them…” 

“Gang like any other,” V tells him. 

Night has fallen over the city, lit by streetlamps and fires in a trash can. Northside all but abandoned, one of the only places where the night isn’t colored by neon citylights. They walk past trash and shrapnel, towards the door. An intercom button on the wall. 

“Take the Valentinos. They follow God and the Santa Madre. Honor means something to 'em. You know what they want, how they get it, and what pisses 'em the fuck off. With Maelstrom, you just never know.”

“Think you might be a touch bias?” 

“Heh, maybe,  go on, let 'em know we're here.” 

With the V presses the intercom button waiting for it to ring, a few moment pass before a low growl of a voice finally responds. 

“Hm, don't know you.”

“Dex sent us.” V is increasingly thankful his name is easy enough to quickly finger spell. If they keep working with him, she may have to come up with a name sign though. 

“Main room. We been waiting,” the Malestom member tells her and the front doors slide open. 

The first room is dark with only a fluorescent light and the red glow of active turrets within it. There’s a distinct stink of mildew, rot, and mold. The stench of it choking V as she steps in after Jackie. 

“Cozy place. Could use a few plants, though,” Jackie makes a snide remark, as his heavy steps ring through the room, tech lines the walls and is stacked up on shelves, “Oh yeah. They look damn well prepared.”

“Food factory turned into a fucking armory, lovely.” 

“Gear from the Jacked convoy, gotta be… Must've been all over it like maggots on dead meat.”

“Everything’s marked Militech,” she confirms as they take a corner and walk down a short flight of stairs. 

“Psycho borgs chromed out with military-grade hardware worth millions... Should be fun.”

“Yeah, a real party.” 

They take a turn past a cluster of steel lockers, grime coated, with old abandoned anti-contamination suits still inside. Another turn past a neon red lit elevator shaft, the old factory is a mechanical maze. No doubt a reason why the chrome gang picked it; walls covered in their graffiti. They walk up another staircase; mines on every step, deactivating before them. 

“Anti-personnel mine,” V comments, “directional shrapnel spitter.” 

“Subtle…” 

Around a corner, through another passageway, and up another flight of stairs. Each step echoes, the entire place dark except for blips colored by red and the odd white fluorescents. Jackie stops when the steps lead to a door. Nodding his head at it, giving V the go ahead to open it. She rolls up the shutter door and is suddenly blinded with bright stark white light, chill curling around her and creeping through her thin cropped top. It makes sense, the former meat packaging plant needing a room to stay cold. 

“Stay cool… They’re just tryin’ to spook us,” Jackie tells her as she steps forward. 

Bright yellow forms patterns across the metal floor, spot lights, and stacks of crates marked Militech. Security cameras and she sees the first glimpse of Maelstrom members since they’ve stepped into the plant. One sitting on a crate, armed and watching with their signature red glowing optics. Another on a platform over seeing them. 

“Get in the elevator, fuckin’ sheep,” the Maelstrommer barks at them. 

“Thought those cabrones only swiped a couple crates, not a whole fuckin’ semi,” Jackie comments under his breath as they walk past the crates and to the end of the room. Double doors open up to a freight elevator. 

“This is going to be a hoot, ain’t it?” The doors to the elevator close and it starts it’s journey upwards. 

“It’s all right, keep chilled, V. Remember, we're on their turf.” 

“Yeah, because I’m the one who loses their chill.” 

“I’m always chill-” 

The elevator comes to a stop before Jackie can finish his though, the door on the other end opening and a Maelstrom member staring at them. He has the red glowing spider like optics and little mechanical dreads on the back of his head. What’s visible of his arms and chest is a mishmash of scar tissue and metal.  Over his shoulders, she can see two other gang members. One holding a shotgun and the other plugged into a netrunner chair, glowing under the light of red screens. 

“What do you want?” He’s the guy who spoke to them over the intercom. 

“Got a bot we need, model MT0D12, Flat Head. Our fixer already paid for it, we’re just here to pick it up.” 

“Hmm, names Dum-Dum,” he points to the side with his gun and starts to move back into the room, “Now, couch. Plant it.”

She walks into the room, and it seems like this could go well. They’ve been mostly chill, gruff sure, but nothing bad. In the center of the room just before a large roll up garage door is a table and two torn up red leather couches. Another Maelstrom member sits on the table. She doesn’t hesitate, sitting down on the couch closest to her, looking at the bright vending machine the gangers have graffitied over. Dum-Dum puts one foot up on the other couch and follows his line of sight to Jackie, who moves a little slower, his arms crossed as he moves next to the other couch and only stands. 

“Ahh, well, shit. Goes for you too,” Dum-Dum tells him and she expects Jackie to listen, he said himself this is their turf and they should keep try to stay chill. 

“I'll stand.”

Or… he’ll let his pride get the better of him and refuse.  Its hard to read the emotions on a Maelstrom member's face, so chromed you can tell what the hell is going on. But the shift in volume is telling enough. 

“This so fuckin' hard? Fuckin' ass on the fuckin' couch!”

“Make me,” Jackie says, voice low as he gets into Dum-Dum’s face. As much as he can while being nearly a head taller than the Maelstrom member. 

“Thought you'd never ask. Sit your ass down 'fore I plant a bullet in your skull.’

“Jackie,” she signs with one hand and pats his shoulder,  catching his attention, “think it’d be best to just sit down, keep everything chill, remember?” 

“This ain't gonna end well but… shit…” And with that Jackie finally sits down, sinking into graffiti covered red leather. 

“Well, all right,” Dum-Dum gets a drug inhalant from his pocket, sitting down on the table in front of V and offering it to her,  “Come on, gotta lighten up. Take a hit.”

The inhalant is red and purple; if she had to guess, Black Lace. An upper that’s high is said to feel reminiscent of manic Cyberpsychosis. Corps used to feed it to their troops by the gallon, cuts off pain receptors and made everyday men into unstoppable killing machines. 

“Appreciate the offer, but weed’s the hardest shit I touch,” V dismisses the offer as politely as she can. She knows it’d endear her to them, maybe, but… drugs aren’t really her thing. And when it is, she prefers mellow to mania. 

Dum-Dum huffs the inhalant, dipping his head back and smoke billowing from his nose. Then exhaling a steady stream of it. She can see Jackie cringing and trying not to breath in the aftermath of Dum-Dum’s high. 

“Whatever you say, straight edged princess.” 

The member sitting next to Dum-Dum moves as nother brings out a large Militech case, black with a yellow lock. It’s put down on the table with a heavy thud. 

“Here we go. The Flathead, model MT0D12.”

“Need to see it.” She’s not going go off of good faith, assuming it’s all there and works. 

“Suit yourself.”

He opens the case and she sees the spider like bot inside, it's almost cute, Dum-Dum shakes the control shard at them as he talks. 

“Fuckin' tricked out this thing. Dynamic, thermo-optic camo armor.”

He puts the control shard into a slot at the base of his skull, all but the middle of his optic eyes going dim as the bot comes to life within the crate. It stands at attention, moves it’s head and shimmies it’s legs. Just a cute mechanical spider; why did they make military combat tech cute? 

“Full cognitive immersion with a Raven controller.”

The bot goes invisible which is impressive, but V’s eye is drawn elsewhere. A steady creak and she sees the garage door behind Dum-Dum is starting to roll up. Screens and the back of a leather chair, a man sitting down visible. She can’t truly tell, but if she had to wager a guess, Royce. 

“Pimped out, prototype actuators made of titanium-vanadium-Kevlar composite.” 

Dum-Dum continues to sell them on the bot as the door fully opens behind him, the chair turning and her seeing that she was right. Royce, the newest Maelstrom leader looking into the deal with the same glowing red optics, though his set so far back in his skull he’s missing gray matter. 

“'N' watch this,” Dum-Dum says he sends the bot to move around the base,  “Fully integrated link, too, so when the spider starts crawlin' up walls, danglin' from ceilings…” He starts to sound sick, his stomach churning as he sees the view of the bot. 

“Could lose your lunch?”  V can’t help but tease, Royce is up now, one hand on the garage door. Like he’s waiting,  ready to pounce the second he hears something he don’t like. Those red optic staring V down. 

“So, what you think?” Dum-Dum asks as he returns the bot to its case.

“Exactly what we’re after, we’ll take it.” 

“Preem, sure, yeah,” Dum-Dum puts the control shard back in the case, “let’s see your cred.” 

“Brick already got paid for it.” 

A metal boom rings out, those words snapping Royce into action as he punches his fist against the door. Stomping forward and Dum-Dum jumps, rushing off the table as Royce marches towards V. 

“Brick got it…heh,” the red shine of metal, a gun pressed to her head, “I don't see any fuckin' Brick around here, do you?!”

“Fuck Brick then, lets cut a new deal,” she doesn’t hesitate, refuses to flinch or show fear. 

He presses the gun in tighter, leaning down into her face, the red optic nearly blinding. So close she can see the scars around the tech and just deeply imbedded they truly are, He lets out a low hum as he leans in, testing her and she doesn’t pull away, doesn’t break eye contact. Then he pulls back. 

“Hah! Now that's good business sense! All right, you want the Flathead? I better see some eddies.” 

She reaches into her left pocket. She would have done this clean, would have paid and been on her way. But Royce wanted a fight, wanted to put iron to her head and try to shake her down. So, she’ll burn his whole goddamn operation to the ground. 

“Got them right here,” she hands him the credchip. 

“Just like that? Without battin' a fuckin' eye?! Hahah!”

“Need the bot, just take the cash and hand it over, no trouble needed.” 

“Look at this fuckin' girl scout! You know all your knots, got all your badges?! Hahaha!”

“Hilarious, you want the money or not?” 

“Y'know, ya never did say who sent you, never did say who you're workin' for?” 

“Yes, yes I fucking did, Dex.” 

“Dexter DeShawn… The lard ass who punching-animal-fucked half of Pacifica? Mean he ain't dead?”

“Swear to god, I’m going to blow my own brains out before you can! You want my fucking money or you want to bore me to death?” 

“Fine,” he starts to grab the chip when there’s a shake in metal, a rumble and an alarm starts to blare. Walls of the factory shake, the faint sound of gunfire. 

“What the…? Shit Militech!” Dum-Dum yells out, they must have known the corp was on their tail. 

“Rusty fucking cunt,” Royce curses and the Maelstrom members start to rush out and V moves; grabbing the Flathead case and stuffing it into her backpack as soon as eyes aren’t on them.

“Shit, Militech got antsy” Jackie tells her over the alarm. 

“Who gives a shit, we got-” 

“Hey!” Dum-Dum yells back at them, from a higher platform, and for a moment she thinks he’s going to fight them for the bot, “lets get the fuck out of here, follow me.” 

Her and Jackie exchange a look, V just shrugging, if he wants to help out why not. V quickly climbs up the yellow ladder up to the platform, following behind Dum-Dum, Jackie not far behind her. Dum-Dum opens a door and it opens into what a room with consoles and the stench of meat hanging in the air. 

“Ay, huele feo, this meat! Ack.. I can taste it,” Jackie sounds like he’s on the verge of puking his guts up. 

“Production line, besides, thought you liked meat?” 

“We'll ride the line. Flip it on.” 

V follows behind Dum-Dum, climbing up a set of crates and onto a scaffolding. The production line is blocked, unmoving in years she’d assume. But on a console is a large red button lined with yellow, she punches it and metal sheets moves from the way, production line whirring to life as red lights color the metal passageways.  Dum-Dum jumps across the small gap and climbs down the ladder. 

“Hey, Doo Dum or whatever your name is, why you even helpin' us??” Jackie asks as V jumps the little gap and platforms but skips the ladder, jumping down the short distance. 

“I'm not. Helpin' myself. Soon as the shootin' starts, I got two walkin' bullet sponges with me. Sponges who'll shoot back.” 

The three walk through the narrow corridor, production line billow steam at them as the pathway opens up to another raised section of scaffolding, a section of it missing and allowing them to drop through and down onto another that surrounds a large hangar, gunfire rings out. Malestrom and Militech soldiers screaming at one another. 

“C’mon let’s go!” 

“You say come on one more time!” 

Dum-Dum rushes down the platform and into the thick of it, quick to fight alongside his fellow Maelstrommers. And god, she’s not a fan of the gang, but watching soldiers with military grade armor and equipment trying to shoot down the group of mini-borgs… Maybe she just hates corps that fucking much.  They could sneak out, let Maelstrom and Militech tear each other part, run with the bot and the eddies. 

“That whackjobs got no chance,” Jackie says, “maybe we give ‘em a hand.” 

“Lets.” 

And she jumps the banister of the platform, landing clean onto a Militech soldier’s back and extends her Mantis Blades. They slice cleanthrough his neck and he goes limp underneath her, bleeding onto the production floor.  V is up the next instant, running full charge into another man’s chest, knocking him off his center of gravity, landing on his chest and stabbing her blade through his heart before he can throw her off.  Back on her feet and fighting in the next moment. 

There is no stealth here, no technique or strategy, just kill or be killed. She moves quick, swinging a blade up to slice a soldier navel to throat. Bringing a blade clean down into another’s shoulder. Takes another’s legs out and they slice clean off, the tactical armored clothes like butter to the Mantis Blades. 

A Militech boot lands square on her chest before she can slice through them, the kick knocks the air from her lungs, staggering her backwards Her head collides with a metal door, Mantis Blades retracting as she hits the ground. The Miltech worker points his gun at her. But before his finger can pull that trigger, a machete is brought down into the junction between his shoulder and neck, ripped back out in a spurt of blood. The man goes down, Jackie behind him. 

“Got you, chica.” He says, pulling her up, a layer of blood has started to stick to both of them. And as she gets to her feet, she catches a glimpse through the window in the door. Bright red lights of servers, a large computer. 

She looks past Jackie into the room, a large swath of Militech agents taken down. Maelstrom still battling the few left in the area. She doesn’t know what will be waiting for her when she breaks through, Meredith’s promise of seeing her soon if V pulled anything like this. 

“C’mon,” V opens the door and quickly yanks Jackie into the server room. 

“The hell are you doing?” 

“Want to check something, bargaining chip, just in case,” 

Blood coated fingers swipe open the computer screen, pulling up the messages and files Maelstrom has saved. A message named Transports- LOA catches her eye, any Nomad worth their salt knows LOA is used by corps who intentionally “lose” their cargo.  She opens it, the message from Anthony Gilchrist telling one of the gang members how to get their hands on the convoy. Meredith has her mole.  V jacks into the console and downloads the fill to her neural implants. 

“What’s up?” 

“Militech rep wanted to find her mole. She tries to get payback, I got intel,” V jacks out of the terminal, “lets go.” 

They rush out of the server room and throw themselves back into the fray, slicing through Militech soldiers, as if they were never gone. V goring a soldier with both blades as Jackie blows the brains out of the last one. 

Dum-Dum leads them through the rest of the plant, turns and curves and stairways, a maze of metal. The three cutting their way through Militech soldiers one body after the other, clearing the room after room. Until they open a door at the top of a stair case, showing what may have once been a massive garage portion of the plant. 

“I’ll melt your fuckin’ skin off!”  Royce screams and laughs from inside a Militech armored exoskeleton, using it to fire off a massive gun that bursts flames around the feet of the soldiers. They shoot and fire at Royce along with a large automated robot

“We gotta help him!” Dum-Dum yells out, rushing into the fray to help his boss, Royce cackling as the soldier try to shoot him. 

“He's fuckin' happy! That's almost contagious!” Jackie laughs, him and V jumping in to help. 

Dum-Dum, Jackie, and V focus on the soldiers; trying to get their fire off of Royce, so he can focus on the heavy duty robot blasting back at him. Pure reflex as bullets fly, blades slash, and body after body falls down at their feet. Chaos, adrenaline; Royce’s manic cackling making them want to laugh too. Last bit if human soldiers down,  Its all on taking down the hulking robot that, it’s armored outside burned and damaged, but not destroyed by the heavy fire Royce blasts it with. V sheaths her blades within her arms, getting her gun from it’s holster and firing round after round into the tech. Jackie and Dum-Dum do the same; five guns, it sputters and sparks, one finally piercing the core of its circuits. The heap of metal collapsing. 

“Khe. The hell're you still doin' here...?” Royce scoffs when he sees Jackie and V are still there. 

“Helping, apparently,” V signs in response, she doesn’t expect much in the way of gratitude. But a little acknowledgement that her and Jackie did a lot of heavy lifting here would be nice. 

“Take your fuckin’ bot and go.” 

She was going to anyway, not caring about nor needing his permission to steal what they need, but the fact that he’s giving it to them is not lost on V. Maybe it’s his own odd way of showing gratitude for helping tear through Militech soldiers. Or maybe he’s just too tired to give a fuck. 

“I'll walk 'em out,” Dum-Dum offers.

“You here to kick our asses out” 

“Huh? No. Wanted to let you know I like your style,” he points them down a hallway, a door marked exit, “here you go.” 

“Can’t fucking believe that guy,” Jackie grumbles as him and V start out the towards the exit. 

“What is your problem with him? First the couch and now this?” 

“Don’t like the fucker’s tone,” Jackie says opening the exit door, “guy rubbed my dick the wrong way.” 

“Well, maybe you should stop letting random dudes rub your dick,” V teases him for his choice of words as they finally get a breath of fresh air, well, as fresh as Night City air gets. 

“Fuck- oh shit.” 

“Oh fuck.” 

Outside the All Foods gateway is Meredith Stout, surrounded by Militech marked vans and a handful of guards. They block the only exit, standing between the mercs and their vehicles. Meredith’s eyes land squarely on V; lips pulling back in a sneer, eyes brimming with contempt. 

“That the Militech bitch?” 

“Un-fucking-fortunately.” 

“You.” Meredith all but snarls, glaring V down as the mercs walk closer, standing before the corpo. 

“Me.” 

“Hmm, bet you didn’t expect to see me here, did you? Thought you could fuck me over, kill your tail and you could just do whatever you wanted?” 

“You gave me a spiked chip, were going to leave me cleaning up Militech’s mess. You tried to fuck me over first.” 

“And somewhere at the start someone fucked the corp, but in the end the corp always wins. Try as hard as you want, all you’ve done is proven I got nothing to lose by getting rid of you.” 

“Oh but you do,” V’s word make Meredith’s eyebrow raise, “I mean, if you want to know who your mole is.” 

“You know?” 

“Yeah, Maelstrom was so busy trying to fight off your men, didn’t even notice me looking through their computer. Got the file on me, could send it to you, but if you’re just going to kill me, not much point.” 

“Send the file and I’ll let you go.” 

“And how do I know you won’t blow my brains out the second it goes through?” 

“You don’t, but you do know I’ll kill you if you don’t send it.” 

V rolls her eyes and her mask interface lights up as she sends the data to Meredith; the corpo woman’s eyes glowing a bright blue light as it transfers. 

“I fucking knew it,” Meredith blurts out, “Gilchrist you sack of shit.” 

“We good?”

“I got what I needed… you know, this was pretty clever of you.” 

“Was it?” 

“Throw me off, get me to attack the plant, get Maelstrom on your side, but get the info to keep Militech happy too. Bet you’re ten thousand eddies richer and got your bot, didn’t you?” 

“Maybe.” 

“Mind like that, maybe a couple years down the line, you could be standing where I am.” 

And V’s stomach churns, her actions being compared to corporate skullduggery and backstabbing. V did what she had to and in the end she didn’t side with the corp. She bites the inside of her lip and she glares through her mask at the corporate cunt. 

“Think I’d rather ride a sandpaper dildo, actually.” 

Meredith scoffs, “let them through.” 

The sea of Militech soldier parts; the two mercs allowed to walk through. Jackie all but collapses, leaning against his motorcycle, there’s still blood sticking to his hands. She’s still coated in a heavy layer herself. 

“Not going to lie, wasn’t sure we’d make it out of that one. But, hey; no begging, no debt, eddies in a pocket and we got the bot. That’s the way to do biz, V.”

“We make a good team, plus I’m starting to think we’re just really lucky.” 

“Ain't you a ray of sunshine. But, V, it ain't a matter of luck. You decide, chica. Remember that, part of why I love this town. The city of endless opportunity. And brotherly hate. But if you got the cojones and know how to use ‘em, you can do damn near anything.”

“Or die trying.” 

“Even then you go out with a bang! And the street'll talk, the street'll remember. Win-win.”

“Rather the street talk about me while I’m alive to hear it, but maybe that’s just me; so what next?” 

“Call up Dex, let him know we got his bot for him.” 

V does just that, pulling up Dex’s contact and calling him, patching the call into Jackie’s too. Her friend’s optics glowing as the holophone rings. Dex answering after just a moment, puffing away on a cigar in the video panel. 

“How're things lookin’, Miss V?”

“Managed to grab the bot.” 

“And how’d it go? Run into any trouble? And what about the Militech angle, Bug told me you hacked some sort of cred chip?” 

“Course there was trouble, but ended up not even needing the chip. Was ready to spike Maelstrom, when Militech got antsy. While they were ripping each other’s throats out, we got the bot and an extra ten thousand eddies for our trouble.” 

“You got some balls, Miss V.”

“So, what now?” 

“Now, we get to work on doing the job I hired you for- grabbing that biochip. Get some sleep, you and Jackster. Because tomorrow, we start prepping for the real heist. Have a car picking you up in the morning.” 

With that, the fixer hangs up, Jackie and V exchanging looks. 

“What you think he’s got in store for us?” 

“I don’t know, we’re gonna have to play corpo to get into that hotel, should be interesting.” 

“Either way, I’m off for the night,” Jackie says, climbing onto his arch, “hasta luego, V.” 

She waves him off, watching him drive off down the streets of Night City. Her body and mind feel tired, limbs heavy and still caked with blood. But, she’s not sure how well she’ll sleep tonight. Nerves and excitement, there’s no telling what tomorrow will hold. 

[suknas]

First Line Tag Game II

Tagged by @ruluxe (who dared to say that I have fanfics that I'm "holdin out on us" -- it is true tho lol)

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening lines then tag 10 of your favorite authors.

Tagging: Everyone who wants to do this! (I'm not sure which authors are still active here ;-;)

Now we all know how inconsistent I am. But I do like starting with what's going on with the characters/where they are... Don't I? Well I decided to start with the most recent published ones, descending to the first ones published (skipping some), and finally some of my WIP/"One day I will finish" fanfics.

Quick fun fact: I didn't remember writing most of those fanfics lol

So here we go!!!! (it's gonna be a bumpy ride)

1. Into the Storm [GrimmIchi]: The lightning and thundering's brightness and strong noises were slicing the dark-blue sky of a lonely and sleepless night. A storm was coming. The heavy rain and gusts of wind were not the only thing rapidly creeping through the night. Kurosaki Ichigo could sense something else approaching along with the dark clouds and the pouring rain that now was hitting his window. [2021 (but the draft was from 2017 maybe), Bleach]

2. Ascension [AoKaga]: Light appeared in the darkness and soon darkness became insignificant before the beauty and immensity of the bright light surrounding a tall and masculine figure. He walked calmly through the uncertain route that many others once also stepped into it. He had a goal. The time to seek the one whom he had once shared many memories with, good and bad. The one person whom he had loved immensely but had never gotten to experience that feeling truly and at its fullest. The time had finally come. [2021 (again the draft was probably from 2016), Kuroko no Basket]

3. The One Where Prompto Does Not Want To Be In The Middle [Gladios x Prompto x Noctis x Ignis]: Sleeping in the camping tent was always a challenge in Prompto’s opinion. It is not as if he does not like camping, it was pretty nice being able to sit under the stars and gaze them, it was relaxing. Sometimes Noctis would sit behind him, embracing him in a warm hug. They would spend a long time chatting and exchanging affectionate touches until both of them felt like sleeping. Other times Gladio would join him, and the shield would let the blond lay his head on his lap. More often than not Prompto ended up sleeping while feeling his hair being played by dexterous and caring fingers. And whenever Ignis had time to spare, he would also join him after cleaning the mess they did during dinner. [2020 (again the draft was maybe from 2017), Final Fantasy XV]

4. The Owl Who Got Caught [KuroTsuki + Bokuto]: The third day of the training camp was finally over. Soon, everybody was running to the school cafeteria to grab something to eat. In the meantime, while nobody was looking, Kuroo took the opportunity to take Tsukishima’s hand, guiding him to the room that the Nekoma team was sharing; closing the door right after they entered. Nekoma and Karasuno’s middle blockers became closer ever since their first practice game, now they were spending more time together, and their relationship had an unexpected development. [2020 (draft probably from 2017), Haikyuu]

5. A Boyfriend Text [KuroTsuki]: Laying in his bed with a smile on the lips Kuroo was texting his sweet strawberry shortcake boyfriend. Eyes rapt, staring at the bright screen in the dark room; he was feeling anxious if his stupid smile and trembling fingers were any indicator.

TETSUROU: Wanna come over this weekend?

It had been some weeks since they had the opportunity to meet; school and volleyball practice were mostly the reason for their inevitable long separation. Week after week something "magically" came up in their agendas, but Kuroo was hopeful, however, that maybe this time their schedules would finally allow them to meet. [2020, Haikyuu]

6. Domestic Bliss [KiriBaku]: Sitting comfortably on the couch, Kirishima and Bakugou were finally spending some time together after a rough week. It was one of those rare days where both could enjoy a peaceful and uneventful afternoon. To say that both men were lazily on the couch doing absolutely nothing productive was not very accurate. Bakugou was doing something with his spear time, he was reading a book. By his focused attention on the pages, anyone could tell that he was enjoying his reading and only someone stupid would dare to bother him. [2017, Boku no Hero Academia]

7. Getting Together [KiriBaku]: “Let’s grab something to eat!” The blonde shouted after stretching his arms above his head. Bakugou’s red eyes fixed on the figure of Kirishima, who was sitting comfortably in bed with his back against the headboard.The redhead’s own red eyes snapped at the figure on the chair, eyeing him from head to toe; he spaced out in no second. Kirishima wanted to touch those damn nice muscled arms, which were slowly lowered down while his hands were placed on his toned thighs. Kirishima couldn’t help himself and started to imagine Bakugou’s whole body underneath him wrapping his body with those strong legs and arms. [2017, Boku no Hero Academia]

8. AoKaga short stories collection [AoKaga]: The atmosphere of the place was hot and heavy. However, because of that, the two teens lying down on the bed were more connected than ever. Their bare bodies were united white skin with dark skin. Their breaths were out of rhythm and their hands slid skillfully on each other’s bodies. The movements were synchronized and intense. The pleasurable moans and whispers echoed in the dark room, making the place even more delightful for both of them. [2017 - Short Story #4, Kuroko no Basket]

9. It's Picture Time! [Pomptis]: In the Regalia, Prompto and Ignis were heading to the nearest outpost from their camping spot to get some supplies for the night. The sun on the horizon was almost hiding behind the tree path by Prompto’s right side, the scenery formed by dim light and shadowy dark spots caught Prompto’s eyes.“Wow! Look at the light, it’s amazing!” the blond shouted, “Can’t we stop just for a bit?” Prompto was thrilled by the idea of adding more photos to his portfolio. [2017, Final Fantasy XV]

10. That Side of You [MiSawa]: Miyuki was laying in the bed on his back, eyes glassy, hands shaking and skin hot. The body above his was driving him to a place where it was absolute bliss and pleasure. Hips moved together, swinging with movements that were making Miyuki moans the pitcher’s name in a short and breathless tone.“Sa-wamura– Aah! Do that again,” his voice low and hoarse made the order sound weak, and his usual snarky tone was lost a long time ago in some part of his foggy mind. [2016, Diamond no Ace]

11. Runaround [Sterek]: Everything was set neatly on the kitchen table. Stiles was going to be there soon, so Derek had already prepared every single book and even snacks that they may need for their studying.It wasn't new that both of them were hanging out for studying matters. Actually, Derek had come up with the idea first, mainly because he was having some issues involving fast heartbeats and some inconvenient hard-ons whenever Stiles was around. He had a ridiculous crush on his friend. However, the smart geek boy didn't have to know about that. [2016, Teen Wolf]

12. Eavesdropping [MiSawa]: Sawamura’s suspicions must be right for his sake. Otherwise, Miyuki would make sure his so careless kouhai would pay a high price for being so noisy about Kuramochi and Ryou-senpai making out when no one was seeing. The closed and almost claustrophobic locker didn’t have enough space to move around, but he and Sawamura managed to fit in somehow. So what? They were eavesdropping, and he still couldn’t say that he was regretting this. [2016, Diamond no Ace]

13. Sterek Short Stories Collection [Sterek]: Stiles had broken up with his last boyfriend a couple of months ago. Or it was what he usually says to Scott when his best friend asks him why he isn’t over his past relationship. Because according to Scott, it’s been a year and a half since Stiles had parted ways with, at the time, his other half. And right now it was one of those times.“You should move on. I haven't seen you with no one since then. What about Danny? Last night I saw him flirting with you, and when I looked again you were nowhere to be found, but Danny was still there drinking alone. And let not forget your grumpy humor because your sex life sucks. It's getting old bro.” [2015 - Short Story #3, Teen Wolf]

14. Urge [AoKaga]: The small public bathroom stall in that bar hadn't been made for sure to accommodate two giants, dumbasses, and impulsive basketball players. Nevertheless, this fact wasn’t that important for the Too player neither to the Seirin player. Kagami was already pressing his body against Aomine’s, who was stuck between the wall and Kagami while his mouth was being devoured by the other’s tongue. Both were fighting into that kiss as if there was no tomorrow. Their hands were traveling quickly by each other’s body, and quickly they were undoing their pants’ zippers and buttons. Their shirts were all messy, as well as their hair. Their breaths were heavy, and the kisses now were directed to their necks, sucking and biting the skin exposed. Soft moans could be heard, but not loud enough to echo in the bathroom. [2013, Kuroko no Basket]

15. After Dancing Lessons [AoKaga]: The music was set up, and his hips started to move, his steps were guiding him to where a dark skinned guy was sat on a chair. The dancer's eyes were fixed in front of him. The watcher's eyes sparkled with excitement when the other sat on his lap, one leg on each side of his body, and kissed his cheeks along to his lips and chin, returning the same way till his ear, biting there slightly. The dancer felt the other hands trying to take his clothes off and immediately stood up, preventing to have those hands on his body so easily. [2013, Kuroko no Basket]

16. Sleep Well [ZoSan]: The night was agitated on board of the Sunny and lots of dirty dishes were pilled up on a corner of the sink. Sanji didn't have this time someone to help him to clean everything up. 'Those lazy bastards!' He frowned, 'all right! Let’s put all these things in their right place!' And with that thought, Sanji started the tiring process of doing all the dishes. On the bright side, if he was the one doing it everything would be spot on in no time. [2013, One Piece]

17. Possessive Lover [KidLaw / LawLu]: The bell indicating the change of periods rang and the students gradually began to leave one room to proceed to another. In the middle of changing classrooms, some students went to a quick trip to the bathroom, which was where that a spiky redhead boy was heading to. He had a dangerous gaze gleaming in his golden eyes; he had quite a threatening presence, and his looks did not lie about his fiery and explosive personality. Any sane person would prefer to avoid crossing paths with him or to even look the boy in the eyes. [2012, One Piece]

18. English Lesson [WIP, AoKaga]: The room was a mess. There were a lot of magazines, books, sheets, some snacks, three soda bottles, two hoodies and two pairs of sneakers all thrown on the floor. Sitting side by side, in front of the center table with notebooks and pens in hands were Kagami and Aomine. They had that idea of starting to study at each other’s places every Thursday night after their club activities. It was not like they liked to take a book, read it and think about the subject, the matter here was way bigger than just casual study. Their grades were in the red mark, which meant that they needed to rise them at least not to get scolded and taken off the basketball team. This time around Kagami was helping Aomine with his English study. The redhead was doing his best to try to explain, but he wasn’t that good at teaching those so detailed grammatical things… [unknown year - present, Kuroko no Basket]

19. High heels [WIP, KuroTsuki]: Tsukishima walked all proud on a black suit, white button-up shirt, grey tie and black stilettos in the room. Kuroo was watching his slow movements with a fierce look from the bed, where he was sat with his hands tied to the headboard by a soft cloth. Tsukishima stopped at the bed foot, looking straight at Kuroo. Ever so slowly, Tsukishima’s hands loosened the tie around his neck, the button-up shirt was having his buttons calmly undone, soon the shirt was wide open reviling Tsukishima's snow-white skin for Kuroo’s delight. [unknown year - present, Haikyuu]

20. Christmas thing / The untitled fanfic [WIP, AoKaga]: It was Christmas the snow was falling outside, many sparkle lights, so many decorations everywhere, people receiving and giving presents, eating together and singing songs. A day to celebrate and stay with family and friends. A day full of joy and happiness.At Kagami's house every single tradition was made. Kagami invited the Seirin basketball team to celebrate, but it ended up with some unexpected guests, the self-invited guests were some of Touou basketball team. And of course, Aomine Daiki was there. The redhead didn't even want to know how Aomine had found out about his little party. He'd bet that Kuroko had told something to Momoi and she kindly invited Aomine and the rest of the troupe. [unknown year - present, Kuroko no Basket]

[citrusella-flugpucker]

All 68 of my SU fics, apparently

((Because @novantinuum did it and then I wanted to do it and then they said “do it” and I took it as a dare

Compiling these gave me a sense of accomplishment. And pain. In my wrist.

Multi-line summaries nearly always squashed to lessen the vertical length of this post, even if most of it is below a readmore))

Multi-chapter fics, regardless of collection status (chronological order--oldest to newest):

And He Doesn’t Wake: My first SU fic, complete; “It can't end like this. Or: Waxing realistic as we examine the events of the episode "Bubbled".” Steven suffers halfway-realistic effects from being exposed to the vacuum of space. Probably not super canon compliant given what we learned in Growing Pains but a fic that branches off at Bubbled and rejoins canon around Mindful Education (and written around that timespan).

Diamond in the Rough: Incomplete; “Connie is in the hospital with a serious disorder, and her biggest chance is an experimental treatment combining minerals with blood transfusions. Little does anyone know...” Originally crack of “Connie gets powers from PD-infused blood” but then ASPR happened and I have to figure out where it goes now (and I want to! but...).

The Results Are In: Incomplete; “Sadie gets a piece of mail from her dad. For most people that'd be pretty mundane, but it's a little more complicated considering who exactly her dad is.” Barb/Blue Diamond crack (it makes sense in context) and affectionately called “Space Maury” internally for reasons that will make sense later. Has a similar but less “it flips the ENTIRE plot” issue with ASPR. I have many idea chunks but almost no connection between them

He’s Gone: Complete (and technically a oneshot with two “bonus chapters”); “Steven asks Peridot to get the shirt Connie got for him for his birthday from his closet. He says he wants to look nice. She's confused by his request. Greg and the Maheswarans are less confused and more terrified. He keeps saying it'll be okay. They'll be okay, even though he'll be going away. It'll just be a couple of days now. Or: Steven and Pink Steven are unable to fuse after being separated on Homeworld. That's not good for Steven.” Steven dies. That’s it. That’s the whole fic. Might potentially get an extra chapter or two still. Or not. Eh.

Thanks, Padparadscha: Incomplete/open-ended oneshot collection; “Stories about the best gem.” Padparadscha oneshots.

Your No-Good, Dirty-Rotten, Gem-Shattering, Rebellion-Leading Mother: Incomplete, little desire to finish; “What if Steven had gone to Camp Green Lake instead of Stanley? Or: If Steven Universe And Holes Were The Same Universe: A Fanfiction (thanks @captainjzh) Or, as the top of my Google Doc I started back exactly a year ago (*2019-01-07) says: SU x Holes: Because the fact that Steven Universe and Stanley Yelnats are both 14 is messing with me”. Wrote this as an exercise after reading the appalling original shopped screenplay for the Holes movie which was basically a nuclear fallout enthusiasts dream world but also quite possibly the worst and most uncomfortable thing ever written and I have had to have whole pages bleached from my memory

It’s Okay to Need Help: Incomplete (three chapters total planned), the last part of the pre-SUF-finale “Steven Corruption Theory” collection; “"Everybody needs support sometimes, and you need support right now, with this. And that's okay." She takes a deep breath. "It's okay to need help, Steven." Or: (Based in corrupted Steven theory as well as taking inspiration/using characteristics from a fic by @love-killed-the-superstar​) Sometime after coming back from corruption, Steven sees a therapist to try to hammer out some lingering issues.” Steven has specific lingering issues from corruption due to the way they had to mitigate it, and that affects how he communicates with his therapist some days. Just been blocked on the best way to write it

Waiting is Worse: Incomplete; “Is there anything more awful than the feeling of powerlessness?” The movie mostly ends the same, except Steven doesn’t un-rejuvenate.

Realism: Incomplete, strong desire to complete; “As much as he may want it to be, this is not a dream. He's not possessing anyone. It's not happening to someone else. It's real.” Steven has the same effects happen to him as the Watermelon Steven from Escapism--an arm and a leg are amputated.

The President Kisses Babies, and Other White House Briefs: Incomplete, open-ended oneshot collection with very little overarching plot; “Oneshot escapades of President Connie Maheswaran and her First Man, Crystal Gem and public speaker, Steven Universe.” Inspired by a Tumblr post and with more ideas in the pipeline! Love this fic even if I lost most inspiration for four years!!

Collection (series) oneshots (chronological order):

Citrusella Tries (And Succeeds!) to Write a Fic Each Day of the Bomb: A collection where I tried to write a fic each day of the HotCG (wedding) bomb. I succeeded but also kind of not? XD

Could You Imagine?: “Imagination is wish fulfillment. What are some of the things Pearl has imagined?” Now We’re Only Falling Apart

Partake In New Extraordinary And Pleasing Pizza Lover Experiences (Or: Kiki's Lament): “Kiki rarely hates her job. But she does hate pineapples.” What’s Your Problem? (Also the title spells PINEAPPLE o.o)

Acquired Taste: “Steven has a snack as he helps prepare for an important ceremony.” The Question

My Whole Life: “Some people are just born to go into certain careers.” Made of Honor

We Can Think About Hope: Incomplete multi-chapter with no hope of completion (why it’s not listed in the multi-chapters, BTW... also the “kind of not” regarding success); “What's going on? What do we do now? Can you still hear me? (Or: The end of Reunited plays out differently.) (Or or: And He Doesn't Wake: Part II: This time with weirder angst! And more not waking!)”

Citrusella's "Steven Corruption Theory" Collection: A collection of fics written on the corruption theory premise before it became canon. It’s Okay to Need Help not duplicated here but would be at the end.

Change: “Steven's come back from probably the most serious thing that's happened to him--save almost dying after his gem was ripped out--but that doesn't mean he came back unchanged. (Based on the "corrupted Steven theory".)”

My Skin: “Steven does a mental inventory of what's changed about him since his uncorruption and finds himself starting to fall into a hole of self-criticism, until a song playing downstairs sets him straight. (Based on the "corrupted Steven theory".)”

Eternity in a Moment: “It had only taken a few hours, and yet, an eternity.”

I Can't Say with Confidence: “Over an hour. He's been sitting in the tub, fully clothed, the bathroom a mess… for over an hour.It should be working! Why isn’t it working?!” Based on this art!

It’s Okay to Need Help

Happy Steven's Day!: Just after Steven discovers his mother is Pink Diamond, Mother's Day rolls around...Greg just doesn't want Steven to be in a slump about it anymore.

You Deserve All the Joy: “Because nothing is better than being surrounded by family and love. Or: Steven's once-a-year struggle with a holiday he doesn't exactly have the ability to traditionally celebrate.” It’s Mother’s Day and Steven is sad. Post-ASPR

Universe Day: “"Being your dad is the only present I really need." Or: Greg and Steven talk and realize their experiences with Mother's Day have been two sides of the same coin.” Post-SUF

Citrusella's Comfortember 2020 Fics: Fics written based on prompts for November 2020 Comfortember... not finished with it

Speed Bump: “Steven's first night on the open road isn't as smooth as he wanted it to be. Attempt to combine prompts 2-6 of Comfortember (prompt 1 just couldn't be squeezed in): "first day/night", "nightmare", anxiety", "cuddling", "afraid to sleep"”

In the After: “Steven wonders if it was corruption. Comfortember days 7-10, though only in the most tenuous, technical sense (and by that I mean all four phrases are mentioned): "blanket fort", "lashing out", "confession", "crying"”

Late Night Hot Chocolate (described in next section)

Zombie Club Chronicles: Steven endures a violent accident on Frightnight (Halloween) that changes his life forever.

Beach City Zombie Club

Prompt: [Randomly roll from list: Steven] doesn’t enjoy the Halloween season, but [Fill in: Steven] take(s) them on a well-meaning trip to an old Gem Ruin where they come to realize [Pick from list: They’ve made a terrible mistake in coming here]

On Frightnight when he is 17, Steven experiences the most serious event of his young life. Almost exactly a year later, Steven takes Steven to Lars' ship in hopes of being able to hop off at a truly secluded gem ruin to talk about something that Steven and Steven have been disagreeing on for several months. Lars has an idea, and Steven comes to a realization.

For the Cluster Spooky Writing Challenge!

Late Night Hot Chocolate (also a Comfortember fic)

"Steven? What are you doing?" He stares into the pot.

The gem half's voice comes monotone. "Making hot chocolate."

"It's three o'clock in the morning. Why on earth are you making… hot chocolate?"

The slyness on his face is one pixel away from nonexistent and yet it's practically a traffic cone to his other half, as he remarks flatly, "Because I've lost control of my life."

Or: Steven and Steven both have nightmares that threaten to take them back to... that night... One copes by making the other hot chocolate and pretending he really isn't having any problems.

Comfortember days 16-18: Protective, Flashbacks, Hot Cocoa

Standalone oneshots (reverse chronological order--newest to oldest):

Rumble Strips:

Prompt: [Randomly roll from list: Greg] notices [Fill in: Steven] is in a somber mood lately. Out of the goodness of their heart they try to cheer up the sad soul in the only way they know how: [Fill in: WHO WANTS TO GO ON A ROAD TRIP?!]

"I really thought I could handle myself on my own." He scoffed. "Even my own therapist didn't think I could do it."

"I bet she thought you could handle yourself just fine. She probably just thought you'd do better with your support system close, bud. Like, literally, I mean." His eye weaved through the thin line of gravel past the edge of the shoulder. "You started saying some pretty concerning things."

Or: Greg and Steven stop on the side of the interstate on their way to Empire City for New Year's, to have a conversation.

For the Cluster Christmas Writing Challenge!

Auto-Injector: “In an alternate timeline, Steven meets Bluebird at her welcome party but he cannot, under any circumstances, try her hors-d'oeuvres. Or: Steven ends up with allergies because why not” (I have three more ideas for chapters)

Don't Put Beans Up Your Nose: “"I know you want answers, and I wish I had some for you, really, Steven, but from what you've described…  those aren't things to play around with. It's unethical to knowingly subject you to those for the sake of 'experimenting', even if you consent." Or: Steven asks Dr. Maheswaran a question she's not ethically able to answer.”

The Exor-schist:

Prompt: A series of events have led to a terrifying effect on one or more of the series’ characters. [Randomly roll from list: Mr. and Dr. Maheswaran] are now suffering from [Randomly roll from list: Spiritual Possession]. How did this happen?

"This corrupted gem, it has a powerful connection to organic matter. Ones this powerful have been known to overtake and even kill humans."

For the Cluster Spooky Writing Challenge!

It's My Party and I'll Dry If I Want To: “You would dry too, if it happened to you! Or: Steven says he wants a pool party for his eighteenth birthday in Delmarva, after over a year of traveling the country. ...But why isn't he swimming?”

Ace Up Your Sleeve: “Or in your back pocket, same diff. Or: Steven's sad about potentially not getting to go to Pride.” (oneshot and an epilogue)

Milestone: “"Okay, so like, the books aren't, like, useless, but they assume you have like the perfect baby. Maybe consider the following: kids are dorks, man." Or: Steven went to the doctor. Once. Or: Greg thinks Steven, at 15 months, is being weird and missing milestones and is worried he's a bad dad so he goes to Vidalia for help.” May eventually be part of a babby Steeb over the years collection

Full Enclosure: “What am I going to tell you? You're better off not knowing the trouble I'm in. / I don't want you to worry about what I've just seen, about where I've just been. / You don't have to be a part of this, I don't think I want you to be! / You don't need this, you don't need me... Or: Steven defines himself by his connection to others. So when they all leave, then… he's no one. (In short: Steven is crushed by his need to be needed.)”

Vice: “He could stop whenever he wanted to. He just didn't want to. Or: Steven falls into a bad habit and tries to rationalize it as okay as long as he's not completely abandoning the idea of improving his life.”

Stairwell Solitude: “Over ten years, Greg wrote just six letters to his parents. What could they have contained?” Post-Mr. Universe

Striations: “At Connie's behest, Dr. Maheswaran makes a house call to Steven's place after his un-monstering. It's different than his last appointment, but its core is the same.”

Everything Stays: “Ever so slightly, daily and nightly, in little ways, when everything stays... Steven's therapist brings up something she's noticed about him outside his PTSD.”

I Do It For Me: “"Forgiveness is the intentional and voluntary process by which a victim undergoes a change in feelings and attitude regarding an offense, and overcomes negative emotions such as resentment and vengeance." Steven asks his therapist a question. The answer may surprise him.”

A Break in the Case: “Dr. Maheswaran takes a look at Steven's results but quickly finds herself in over her head.” Mid-Growing Pains

I have a couple entries in the @connieswap omake collection (Comic Relief and Same Old Steven)--I’m not linking them

Changing Tastes: “ Steven and Connie share a conversation after watching Crying Breakfast Friends: Under the Butterknife.”

Rejuvenated Regrets: “Someone calls Steven's name from downstairs. He's not listening closely enough to know who it is. He's not sure he cares right this moment. He wants Mom—Rose—Pink—and that's the one person he knows it's not.”

Gut Feeling: “Every time, he has to push his brain off that train of thought--what if she does it again?--but for someone with super-strength, he's surprisingly not very good at pushing.”

Lapis Watches Titanic (1997) ...There’s no summary

The Cluster Halloween Exquisite Corpse 2019 (I only wrote part of this!!): “Lars tells a horror story but loses track of it, or; a bunch of fic writers do an exquisite corpse and hilarity ensues. Written by DocCairo, citrusella, E350, love-killed-the-superstar and br42.”

Drift Away: “There are timelines where Steven fell into the biopoison when the Earth cracked under his feet. Here we see three times Steven (technically) lived despite a dive into pure poison, and one time he didn't.”

The Rose Wilts: “Once upon a time, he knew Rose. But he knew he didn't know everything.Sometimes it feels like he's learned more about her after she died than he ever knew while she was alive.“ Doug and Rose used to be friends

Tying the Knot: “Steven never wears shoes with laces, because he can't tie them. When Connie finds out, he's pretty chill about it.”

Haploid: “You're not sure if this is what being shattered feels like. You don't know if you want to be sure.” Mid-CYM

Thestral: “"How many have you seen?" "All of them." She answered without hesitation. "Oh." Or: Pearl and Steven talk about a type of gem that corruption has given some... special characteristics.”

500 Words a Secret Santa Gift: The Gratuitous Reference: “200 words a day, every day, until Under the Knife comes back. Or Crying Breakfast Friends. We're not picky at this point. Secret Santa edition! (A Secret Santa gift for @e350tb that deliberately and gratuitously references their 100 Words a Day series.)”

Sesimorp, Sesimorp: “A Lapis Lazuli makes a beautiful work of art.”

Ship Talk: “Lars and Steven share a moment on the Sun Incinerator.”

No Way Around It: “An order is an order.”

Give It A Try!: “Steven gets a Diamond to try something new.”

Better Off: “Peedee ponders what could have been.”

Steven x A Nice Calm Life Please and Thank You™: A Case for the Realization of a Bold New Ship: “Steven deserves a happy life free of interplanetary struggle and strife. It's my OTP. So I'm going to give him that! :D”

I Don't Know: “Will this ever make sense? Will this ever feel normal?” Post-ASPR

Force of Nature: “Her diamond gave her orders no longer.”

My Gemmortal (by XXXbloodstoneshardz666XXX): “the escupaids fo steven hardlight amnesia lion universe and his freinds n crushs” (this is exactly what it sounds like)

The Picture of Steven Pink: “It took a lot out of him.” (SU but Steven takes on the injuries he heals)

Self: “In the Connie Swap AU, Steven considers his identity and place in his family, community, culture, and himself. For a kid who at least tries to be all sunshine and rainbows, this isn't exactly the most fun thing to do, but sometimes it's necessary.” (these are different than the things in the CS omake collection)

I Really AM My Mom...: “"When you're singing, you want to use enough air that you could blow a throatful of peanut butter clear across the room." The crackiest of escape-from-Homeworld plots, based on a ClickHole article and a joke headcanon.”

Left: “Of course there's shame in bailing.”

Old shames (chronological order): Stories I just kinda cringe at now

Shrinking Rose: “Steven never felt bad about his stature. Until he did.” (I just don’t love it)

A Rose for Emily: “What if Rose wanted to spend the rest of her life with someone before Greg? ...It's safe to say she has a skeleton in her closet.” (less old shame than the others on this list but was hard to shoehorn in the A Rose for Emily style writing)

Alone: “Steven won't open up about how everything that happened is affecting him. Not even to himself.” (I know I’ve written other dark stuff but this one just hits different)

You Should've Asked Me, I'm Really Good at Naming Bands (November 2019 Unfinished WIPs): “(title subject to change) I did a challenge that I had to write my WIPs in November (revised to November and December) or be forced to post them unfinished. I got some updates done, but several not done. These are those stories. Dun-dun.” (only “shame” because they were things that were never finished--I also had a Connie Swap omake I was supposed to finish or the punishment was not to post it unfinished but to write Steven and Spinel (NOTP) but I just never did that)

[ramblingkat]

Fic: Relaxation

Fandom: Bleach, Welcome to Night Vale

Characters/Pairings: Kurosaki Ichigo/Urahara Kisuke

Prompt for 31 Days on Dreamwidth.  Jan  4. Dude, am I a side character?

Wordcount: 1,194

Summary:  Ichigo isn't the main focus of the strangeness of Night Vale. He finds it relaxing.

The thing was, Ichigo actually liked Night Vale.

It was surprisingly soothing. Yes, there were looping days, the dog park nobody talked about, screaming angels, librarians, and various other madness. But it was not, in any way, focused on him.

In Karakura, when weird shit happened, it always fell into his lap. Or started off focused on him. In Night Vale, the weirdness was tangential. It would happen with or without him here, and it didn’t require him to do anything other than just get through the day.

Other than the librarians. He definitely got into it with them on a regular basis.

But, really, Ichigo was pretty sure that if he and Kisuke had never ended up here, Night Vale would be exactly the same.

Well, maybe less trauma in the Sheriff’s Secret Police. But that was a side effect of dealing with a Kisuke who was bored.

On the radio, which was another oddity of Night Vale, Cecil was going on about the underground city underneath Desert Flower Bowling Alley and Arcade Fun Complex. Kisuke had been taking apart radios, which didn’t have regular parts inside. Ichigo had seen one being pulled apart, and then never did it again. The nightmares were not worth it.

If the weirdness in town seemed to circle around anyone, it was Cecil. Ichigo was finding it a strange and interesting event to be on the outside of things, watching the show. He took part in the strange situations because he had to, but he was never the deciding factor.

It was strangely relaxing. Though it was also occasionally stressful. Simply because he couldn’t stop things when they happened.That made his urge to protect itch, but he ignored it generally. The only person he had to protect was Kisuke, and he was pretty sure the man could protect himself.

Kisuke seemed to be enjoying himself as well. But, then, the man wasn't having to deal with figuring out how to stop work ending situations on a regular basis. The fact he had managed to do it repeatedly in a rather small span of time was really impressive. Between the pair of them, Ichigo was content to know that they could handle pretty much anything. With his power levels, Kisuke's brains, and the range of ideas that two of them could toss back and forth to each other, he had plenty of confidence in the fact they could take care of everything.

On the radio, Cecil was now going on about a man in a tan jacket. Which was weird. This town was strange as hell, but Ichigo was enjoying it.

The library, once he and the librarians battled it out for the right to be there, was really nice as well. It had quite a collection of books, including several over Double Spanish. He really wanted to understand this, and Ichigo threw himself into learning it. Coptic Spanish also had him curious, but one language at a time.

Once one got past the weirdness inherent to the town itself, it was really a nice place to live. The people were friendly, the weather not too horrible, even if the weather reports were strange. It was warm, but never so hot that it was unbearable. Though Kisuke huffed when the sun decided not to set until far too late in the day.

Though Ichigo could agree that not having a sunset until four in the morning, only to have the sun rise again at six am was a little strange. He was sure that it was definitely abnormal. But given the place they were living now, that wasn't the worst thing to happen.

Once he was sure that they were going to go on about the man in a tan jacket and a deerskin suitcase for a while on the radio, Ichigo grabbed his book, then went to find Kisuke.

"So there is apparently some sort of thing that looks like a man in a tan jacket going around," Ichigo said easily. "But nobody can remember his face at all. They all say he has one, but nobody can remember it." He grinned at Kisuke, who looked like he was waiting for more detail. "The City Council has lifted the ban on pens and pencils so that people can immediately jot down how the man looks. It's been difficult for the Sheriff's Secret Police to get a proper description for their search."

As expected, Kisuke grinned at the idea of his pens no longer being illegal. Not that it seemed to bother the man in any case. But it meant that he could go to the store and grab some new ones. Every time the ban was lifted, the store seemed to have a mass of them up for sale. So it was a good chance to stock back up on his supply.

Setting aside a mass of....something, Ichigo wasn't sure what it was and didn't want to know, Kisuke stood up. Ichigo had always thought that Mayuri was the reason that the Twelfth had a thing for extra eyes and other biological mass in their tech. But now he wondered if part of that wasn't from Kisuke. Some of the squad had to be there from when the blond ran the division, given shinigami age ranges.

Or it might have been a Night Vale thing. Lots of fleshy bits in places that should have no fleshy bits.

"Should we do our regular shopping while we are out?" Kisuke asked, moving towards the small tiled area where they kept their shoes. Living in a western home meant they had to modify a few things to keep certain standards.

Ichigo considered it, and nodded. "Might as well. Other than the man in a tan jacket and a deerskin suitcase, it didn't seem like there was anything too wild going on in town. So it should be perfectly safe for them to go ahead and get the shopping taken care of. Plus they had to invest in some more basics to store in the house. After the week where all the doors and windows in town refused to open or close, they had been trapped in the house and gone through most of their stored food. Better to refill the stockpile in case there was another day they were stuck inside for a long period.

He detoured to grab the list that was attached to the fridge. "Do we want to go grab lunch first? The new cafe on the corner by the dog park has gotten some good reviews. Maria says that they make excellent ramen. I'm kinda curious if they do have a good one or not."

Kisuke considered. "That would be nice. Something a bit like home without us having to make it," he said. He smiled at Ichigo, small and happy. "That sounds like an excellent idea. Shall we go?"

Smiling back in return, Ichigo went to grab his shoes. How could he not smile back when Kisuke was giving him that small, but real, smile.

Night Vale was strange, but it was nice. It let him and Kisuke simply be with each other.

[ilooklikeaburntchickenugget]

Only Mine Pt. 5

A/N: THANK YOU ALL FOR THE SWEET MESSAGES ABOUT THIS SERIES! It’s honestly so fun to write about so I’m glad all of you like it as much as I do. Pairing: Gerard Way x F!Pop Star!Reader Word count: 2,337 Warnings: Some swearing, mentions of anxiety and stress

You were humming an idea you had, your phone sitting out and playing one of the hundreds recordings you had for songs. Sweatpants and a large hoodie with fuzzy socks were the only appropriate attire for the recording studio, your hair carelessly held up by a scrunchie in a bun on the top of your head, glasses slightly crooked on your face.

“You get it, right?” You asked from the couch, where your legs were propped up against your chest.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I do.” Ray smiled, turning back to the computer and putting in a few various sounds.

“I’m thinking of putting in these ‘Oh’ sounds over and over, as background, pre-verse and then in the chorus.” You included.

“That would be cool.” Gerard laid back in the chair in between you and Ray, “Make them lower though, they’ll contrast your voice.” You nodded, agreeing.

“I want to make it sound frantic, almost anxious, right? That’s kind of the feeling of the song.” “Well, yeah, that makes sense with the meaning and lyrics.” Ray added on and you nodded. “I think it sounds sick.” “Thanks man.” You smiled lightly, “I have like 20 of these. Not the same song, but for the new album.” “Already?” He asked, shocked.

“Don’t underestimate her,” Gerard looked over at him, arms crossed and slouching back, “Give her five minutes and she’ll have an entire fucking song conducted.” You nodded.

“Maybe not five, but something along those lines.”

“Have you made a title for the record?” Ray asked next and you shook your head.

“I have most of it composed, I don’t have a title though.” You said, “It’s a concept album, so as you guys know, it’s written like a book. But there’s this whole plot and everything. So it’s not like I can name it after someone or something, like I did with the last one, I have to find something.” “What about a song name?” Gerard looked up at you, “Name it after a song, maybe. One that you feel embodies the record as a whole.” “I don’t know,” You sighed out of partial frustration, “I’m not good at naming albums. I almost named the last one Gerard, but Ray told me no.” You could hear Ray lightly snicker remembering that.

“Really?” Gerard asked, a look of slight shock on his face.

“What?” You asked, “You act like you don’t know that entire record is about you.” He shrugged.

“It still flatters me.” “Well this one is kinda about you,” You admitted, “More about the picture the media has painted us out to be.” “You mean bad boy makes innocent girl bad?” He asked and you nodded.

“It’s almost set out as a character v. self, character v. character, and character v. society album.” You explained, “She’s frustrated with herself because she knows he’s bad but she loves him, she’s mad at him because he’s that way but she also loves him for it, and she’s mad at everyone who’s telling her he’s bad, because she knows it, but she can’t help it.” “So like an addiction?” Ray asked and you nodded.

“That’s why Clean is on there. It’s the last track, it’s her almost cleansing herself from everything.” “That makes sense.” Gerard nodded.

“I mean, I think it’s brilliant.” Ray began playing with a few more sounds while talking, “I hope people take it as it is, AKA it’s very ironic, but addressing that by making an entire record is pretty bad ass.” You lightly laughed.

“Thanks,” You smiled, “Maybe Gerard is making me corrupt, making me a badass and all.” You winked playfully at him.

“Ah yes, I’m going to make you my emo queen.” The three of you began laughing.

“I am thinking about changing my look to take on this alter ego,” You began, “You cut off all your hair and bleached it to be a representation of The Patient.” You looked to Gerard, “I don’t think I would do anything to my hair, but I would change up my wardrobe and makeup look.” “Like start off as you are and gradually get more rebellious looking?” Ray asked and you nodded.

“The paparazzi will love that.” You lightly smiled sarcastically, a few moments of silence at the end. “Thank you guys, by the way, for taking time off to help me make this.” “No problem,” Ray smiled and nodded, “Besides, everyone loves you and we’ve been having some writing block lately.” “And I didn’t have a choice.” Gerard said. You eyed him, throwing a pen which hit his head and he very lightly flinched at the impact.

“Oh stop it.” You rolled your eyes.

“Ready to go in?” Ray asked, motioning to the recording booth. You nodded getting up and grabbing a pair of headphones. You put them on, beginning to do some short vocal warm ups. Ray was sitting right outside through the glass window at the panel, Gerard leaning over and playing with a few things on the sound board.

“Ready?” Ray asked into the mic and you nodded, pulling out notes on your phone to read lyrics.

“We’re just doing verse and chorus, right? No belts or high notes or anything?” He shook his head.

“That’ll be next.” He responded and you nodded. The music started up, giving you a few seconds to prepare before you began singing the lyrics, both Gerard and Ray actively adjusting various switches and such. Finally, when the song wrapped up, you took a few steps back from the mic as they stopped the recording.

“How was that?” You asked.

“Incredible as always.” Ray smiled and you smiled back, “Now we have to work on high notes and belting for the bridge and final chorus, then we can do background vocals.” You nodded, “Let me just edit a bit of the track.” It only took him a matter of minutes before replaying the track, a huge smile plastered on your face the entire time.

“It’s sick!” You smiled and clapped, jumping a bit.

“It’s honestly incredible.” Gerard smiled too.

“Thank you.” You smiled back.

“Ready for everything else?” Ray asked and you nodded.

It took you another hour of recording and getting everything before you could finally retire the recording and production process for the song, getting out of the booth and grabbing a water.

The finished product was incredible, it had the perfect amount of everything from base to drums with a little bit of synth and a light echo attached to your voice.

“Do you think this new record’s gonna be as big as the last?” Ray asked you, all three of you now on various pieces of furniture in the studio and eating burritos, which had been jointly decided upon pretty quickly when you all grew hungry. “Mmm,” You hummed, thinking for a minute, “I don’t know. Probably not considering winning 10 Grammys in one night is a record,” “On top of the, like 40 other awards you got.” Ray laughed.

“Yeah, true,” You agreed, “But I don’t make music to win awards or anything. I make music because I want to and because I love to and other people like it.” You explained, “You guys are the same.” They nodded. “The awards are just something nice.”

“I mean, you’re basically on top of the world.” Ray responded.

“Yeah, but that’s what makes it all the more scary,” You began, “You kind of look down from your stance at the top, having everything you’ve ever dreamed of in your career, and you have to ask what do you do next. And then it turns in to panic because there’s no where to go. And that’s why Gerard is up with me every other night while I’m having a panic attack about what the fuck I do next.”

“I don’t think I’m much help.” He added.

“You’re more help than if I was alone.” You responded, “But I’m kind of excited for this new era. There’s no limits anymore, I feel like, so I’ll just take on this good girl gone bad character. Not in real life, of course, but my alter ego.” “So you’re gonna reset everything?” Ray asked and you nodded.

“Yeah, hopefully. Starting with my closet.” You took a bite of your food, “Gee, take me to Hot Topic.” He rolled his eyes.

“If you want to do that, then just take all my leather jackets.” “You have too many anyways.” “Do not,” He warned, “I take pride in my jacket collection.” This time you rolled your eyes. “You have an entire rack in your closet for jackets.” “Uh huh, says Miss ‘I have to have an entire room for my purse and shoe collection’.” “Oh, please, it’s part of my personality.” “Well jackets are apart of mine.” He fired back.

“You two are literally an old couple.” Ray interrupted.

“Kinda.” You agreed.

“But for real,” Ray asked next, “What is going on in the world of Y/F/N Y/L/N?” You sighed.

“For once it feels like nothing,” You admitted, “No brand deals really, almost no interviews, no tour because that finished up, just this I guess.” You took another bite and continued, “I did recently get the opportunity for there to be a documentary on me and my life though. Like a camera crew and everyone follow me around for a few critical weeks of the year, put it into a whole movie type thing about how I live, my fame, all that.” “Wait, what?” Gerard asked, now a mixture of shock and concern on his face. “You-you never told me.” He said next.

“Well, yeah, I mean I told them I would at least have to think about it. I was planning on telling you but I needed to figure out if I wanted to go through with it first. I was very indecisive about it. Still am.” “So what are you thinking?” Ray asked, clearly trying to break some of the tension.

“I still don’t know,” You admitted, “I mean, a part of me really wants people to understand why I’m so under the radar, why I’ve disappeared from the world for a while. But the other part wants to protect that privacy. Plus if we were to theoretically go through with this, Gee, you would have to be okay with it too since they’ll be filming in our homes, and very possibly me and you.” He nodded, “And plus, I don’t know if it’s the right timing. I’m starting this new era of me being private and taking on this alter ego for everyone else, it may just be bad timing too.”

“I think it would be interesting for people to be able to see you, like the real you. And how you deal with the fame and all.” Ray added.

“Yeah, but,” You took a brief pause to find words, “How much of my privacy am I willing to forfeit for that?”

You and Gerard got back to your New York townhouse, kicking off your shoes and almost immediately crashing on the bed. You had to admit, at least to yourself, that your mind was beyond conflicted with what to do. Your next album release would have been perfect timing to plan starting a family with Gerard. Release the album, stay completely under the radar, and go on a small tour with a few big shows. But the opportunity for the documentary to be made would make a huge deal to your life. It would be nearly impossible to do both at the same time, though.

You laid down, your head on Gerard’s shoulder, as you both laid in bed reading your books trying to wind down. But Gerard, being your husband, best friend, and soulmate, knew you were stressed. Just from even looking at you, although no one else could tell, he could.

“Talk to me.” He said softly, barely above a whisper.

“I don’t want to disrupt your reading,” You sighed, “Or annoy you.” “I like listening to you talk.” He glanced to you, your eyes meeting. You didn’t know how a man could be that gorgeous, he just was. “It’s soothing, even when you rant.” You lightly laughed, snuggling further into him. He willingly took one of his arms, swinging it behind you and placing his book down on his nightstand, marking the page. 

“Fine,” You sighed, moving down so your head was on his chest, feeling it rise and fall with every delicate breath he absentmindedly took. Your hands found their way there too, drawing circles on the shirt he had on.

So there the two of you laid, you pouring our your anxiety and worries to your husband, who seemed to understand what you were saying, translating every jumble of emotion you had into a symphony of calmness. 

“This is all up to you babe, I’m just along for the ride.” He said, “But maybe this is a sign, ya know? Maybe you should take this opportunity to have a documentary be made about you, because maybe people will begin to actually understand the extent to which your life has been thrown into the spotlight, and why you need that privacy. And maybe that sympathy will get us to an even better place where we can start a family, worry free from any chance that our child or children will be in the spotlight.” “You’re so smart.” You lightly laughed, nuzzling into him. “I’ll think about it, Gee.” And like that a lightbulb went off in your head. You squeezed out of his embrace, groaning and getting up out of bed, his face filled with confusion. “Where’re you going? Did I say something wrong? I-” “No, it’s a song idea.” You palmed your face in your hand, “Like a really good one.” You grabbed your phone to go record it. “You get it, right?” “Not really because I don’t record as many songs as you, but kinda.” You groaned again, his face so innocent as you eyed him.

“You’re an ass.”