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sinisterexaggerator · 3 years ago

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Stars Above! | Cad Bane

Chapter 9

Fandom: Star Wars / Rise of the Empire Era / Post Bad Batch / Post Order 66

Explicit: Eventual Smut, Slow Burn, Gratuitous Smut, Porn with Plot, Canon-Typical Violence, Mildly Dubious Consent, Angst, Tatooine Slave Culture

AO3

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One part of Zulara wanted to throw herself into her work, while the other half of her was unapologetically distracted, her mind disturbed. Something had shifted in her that could not be returned to its former state. She was agitated, though she did her best to hide her feelings deep within.

Kayson had forbidden her from seeing Bane; he had grounded her; said she could only come to the weapon’s shop for the next three months. No time to talk, or to communicate with friends. He had walked her to Slave Quarter’s Row himself, Hondo tailing him, while the alien begrudgingly cursed the Duros, forcing her to listen as she nearly wept.

He had told her hearsay; things he heard in passing; rumors that held true. Hondo backed him up, regaling her with tales of his own. At the moment, Zulara didn’t care. She didn’t want to hear it. She had been struck by strong emotions, even as they ridiculed and persuaded her to hate him.

“You know, he once kidnapped children for a Sith? A Jedi told me dat; sure tu be trusted! A good man, overall. I believe him.” It was an outright lie; the gunslinger had been the one to recite that story, and Hondo had listened with rapt attention. He thought he often missed those days - the ones where drink and song were commonplace, and his beloved Florrum was host to many kinds of people - now he had nothing and nobody.

“Heard he tried to hold a politician for ransom. Was pretty successful too, until he was duped. Got thrown in prison at some point.”

“Et would be remiss not tu tell you his body count es very, very high… You might say he kills for sport. Et es a bounty hunter’s prerogative! Though perhaps without rhyme or reason when et suits him. He has a temper, dat one.”

Hondo didn’t mention Bane had worked for him before, and that he was just as guilty of certain… things that might be labeled worse - things maybe he wasn’t proud of - but none of that was exactly pertinent to the conversation, or in his favor.

“I know for a fact he’s murdered innocent men and most likely women, too. Credits are credits, so he says! He’s working for the Empire, Zu’.”

“You’re the one who told me to keep our enemies closer than our friends!”

“Not that close!”

What an interesting, yet unfortunate set of events this was turning out to be, the pirate would think quietly. Bane would soon have another reason to turn him in, but to get Zulara up there in the privacy of realspace - to get him off his case if only for a day or two – that was a profitable venture he was willing to take the risks for.

This pretty girl could still be swayed away from Bane. He would use his wits, his charming tricks. He could practically taste the sweet reward he would have in store – her lips, both sets.

That was not to say Hondo did not care for her well-being. Slavery, in any case, was not something he reminisced fondly on, only his daring and rather heroic escape from Porla.

Hondo had freed many of those men who joined his pirate horde, his Ohnaka Gang, once a thriving menace to the galaxy at large, now they were just a group of thugs who had stolen his very name; he was admittedly ashamed of his untimely downfall.

Vexed and sorely troubled, Zulara wished that she could escape her master; she had turned around to walk back the way she came. Kayson had forcibly pushed her onward, dragging her to her small home. At least Hondo had said something; he took over for him. He had laid one arm along her neck, brushing a strand of her hair away.

The Weequay wound up apologizing for the brute, saying: “he simply does not have a way wit’ women like I du!” This had quieted Zulara for a time, and she was somewhat thankful for him, just because he preoccupied her from her otherwise cheerless thoughts.

Somehow, it all went through one ear and out the other. She felt she did not care; she was enthralled with him, his stoic demeanor, his fearsome crimson eyes that held her paralyzed in both her nervousness and a newfound, primal lust. She had qualms with him for one thing only; his absence from her – it had been three days already - the girl was keeping a quiet count.

Zulara had lain her head down, stretching her arms out across her workspace. Her fingernails had dug into the table she was supposed to be repairing a blaster at. The pieces were littered on her left and right, haphazardly scattered along its surface. Her tools remained unused. She felt despondent; hopeless; dejected due to the Duros. She was sure she meant nothing to him, a kind of unrequited infatuation on her part. More than that, or it could be if she let her mind wander for too long. The only thing she found herself doing lately was issuing long sighs.

She kicked the wall beneath her; she sat up again, pushing her bangs out of her way. She stared idly at a converter valve, rolling it along beneath her fingers. She found she couldn’t concentrate; it was all his fault. Perhaps it was best if she had never met him, though now that she had, it was much too late for that kind of thinking.

She nearly jumped out of her own skin when Kayson yelled at her again.

“Zula! You haven’t finished with that yet?” The beast had growled at her, brows furrowed, looking down at her as she looked up. Her eyes widened before she hastily filled her hands with those implements she needed, pretending to occupy herself just to subdue his mounting attitude.

“Well, don’t worry about it now! I’ve got something else for you to do.”

Zulara carefully placed the converter down, her normally proficient hands left trembling, though so near to imperceptible perhaps most people wouldn’t notice. But Kayson had unique eyesight, modifications that enabled him to perceive the tiniest hint of change in her disposition. He kept his mouth shut; he was trying not to ride her ass too much.

Kayson wouldn’t admit it, but he felt guilty, though apologizing wasn’t in his wheelhouse. And still, the girl had disobeyed.

He had been holding something, a package of sorts, wrapped in a bundle of dark colored cloth. It had been newly delivered to him from off the black market of Tatooine. Creimm had snuck it to him in the cover of the night.

“Another pair of DL-44’s. We’ve already got a buyer, but they need to be modified.” He set the bundle down, unwrapped the fabric, presenting to her the highly sought-after blaster pistols. They were a favorite among smugglers; thieves; bounty hunters … Capable of shooting through plastoid and other dense materials. The Empire had outlawed them and their alteration; it was a crime. Zulara could be thrown behind a ray shield for simply touching them, though she didn’t bat a lash.

“Just as well; that detonator pick-up has been pushed back – there’s a holdout in desperate need of supplies; water, rations – don’t blame the guy. Hopefully won’t be too much of a wait, as long as the Imperials don’t catch up to him. Those things go for a high price. I’ll have to tell Hondo; maybe put him to work some other way.” Perhaps Kayson was no better than Cad Bane – he favored his credits just the same.

Zulara ran a finger down one of the weapon’s barrels, noting the coldness of the dedlanite. It made her think of Bane again, his frigid skin. She quickly pulled her hand away, doing her best to pay attention.

“Guy named Brainee. He’s a bounty hunter. Works for Jabba. He wants the scopes removed and to replace the galven circuitry with Luxan’s precision circuits so he can deal more damage with less energy drain.”

Zulara only nodded, thinking she rather not do anything except run out into the street, though she quietly stood up and began roving around to various cabinets to collect those things she needed. Kayson just kept on talking. She was barely listening.

“You’re gonna need to suit up and take the underground tunnels to rendezvous with him tomorrow afternoon near the Desilijic Complex. Best to make the exchange in broad daylight, less suspicious. Don’t have to sneak around as much, so no dilly-dallying. We’ve got a schedule to keep.”

---

Cad Bane kept deliberating on the issue of just outright killing Kayson in his off time, which he had been rather preoccupied in his scouring of the nooks and crannies of Mos Eisley. Seems the little troupe of smugglers had been rather quiet lately. That, or they were very good at hiding things.

He had two reasons not to do it that he could think of. One, Kayson was a reputable business owner who no one had any complaints with. It would be straight murder for a personal vendetta, something he wasn’t entirely against, but the man had made a name for himself. Most likely he had friends.

He had no criminal record, no files that he could access. He was, for the most part, an upstanding citizen. Of course, that didn’t mean he wasn’t a grade A asshole, but the unwanted attention that accompanied the blatant assassination of a merchant was not something he could afford while under this contract with the Empire. All in all, he’d look bad.

Two, Zulara was a timid creature, shy by nature, and he wasn’t sure she wouldn’t hate him for it. He didn’t want to frighten her, or scare her off his radar - to kill someone she had known for half her life might not sit too well - and Bane felt he wasn’t through with being in her company, despite all the unsettling things he had thought about her since three nights ago, wondering if the girl practiced witchcraft like those women who used to live on Dathomir; he felt he was being held under some kind of wicked spell.

Bane had realized something about himself, something this girl brought out. He tended to think of himself as a calm, collected person, a man who took pride in being boorish and uncaring. The life of a bounty hunter was far from fun and games, and he wasn’t part of a pack - he rarely entertained joint enterprises; only when it suited him – only when the credits were worth the annoyance of being in the presence of others of his ilk, tasked together with pulling off a ruse.

He never came into physical contact with anyone unless it was an act of combat, though Bane preferred sticking to his guns. He was an expert at long range, and skilled in hand-to-hand, but he knew where his weaknesses laid within. He wasn’t strong, but he wasn’t weak – he was spry, nimble, agile like a Loth-cat - using tools and tricks to his advantage, and the only ones who got close enough to him to look him in the eye were perpetrators, criminals bound in stun cuffs, and even then they didn’t go touching him.

And, in times long past where he had been familiar with others, it was surface level or wild and rough; nights spent drunk or watching random people fuck. He rarely, if ever, bothered to participate.

To that end, Zulara’s warm and gentle hands had destabilized his equilibrium, his homeostasis if you could call it that. He was as mad as a pack of ill-tempered nerf because of it; pissed as hell that she had that effect on him.

He wasn’t used to true affection; Bane’s parents hadn't been around, though his house mother had tried her best. He had to fend for himself from a young age on New Tayana - taking up random jobs like bringing in bail jumpers, petty crooks and criminals - but even so, as a tiny creature that called out for attention, he had been ignored like so many others at the orphanage; there were simply too many mouths to feed. He had seldom felt the closeness of another’s skin or microscales.

This man was nearly touched-starved, isolated, though women often kept him company. It was quick and mostly enjoyable, but not so much intimate. Perhaps he was reading too much into things; the girl was grateful for his attempt at freeing her. Her senses, her very thoughts and feelings could have been clouded or jeopardized. Females were emotional creatures in his experience, though he had met a male or two who was just as dramatic, Moralo Eval to name one off the top of his bald head.

It made him think of that whole Rako Hardeen scenario again.

Bane’s brow ridge furrowed as he looked through his set of macro-binocs, wishing death to the one named Obi-wan Kenobi; he would be glad if he was still alive so that he might one day make him suffer a slow and painful death. That is, if the Empire didn’t come across him first.

Bane was situated upon a rooftop, hidden well beneath an awning that served to cool and protect his epidermis, though it had been a fluke; it was a rather coincidental convenience that it should be there, as he was perched above one particular district of Mos Eisley.

Those castoffs of society collected here - performed their business dealings in the middle of the day and the dead of night – and on more than one occasion he had interrupted them, capturing unsuspecting criminals in a weave of fibercord or encaging them with his bola; they never had anything worth noting. He would not apologize, but let them loose. If they dared say anything, a simple glare from the Duros was normally enough to suffice to entice them to shut up. But now everyone was on high alert – Cad Bane was looking for something, or someone.

Todo was in another part of town; he had been given his own assignment, though they stayed in close contact with one another through his comm device.

It was noon; the twin suns were high in the cloudless sky; he was feeling overwhelmed - overheated - even in the shade Tatooine was a harsh mistress to handle, and he felt the need to cool off quickly - to find a diner or a cantina - though a call from his faithful techno-service droid delayed that thought. He seemed to have come across a suspicious rendezvous worth investigating. The timing was rather poor for the already depleted Duros.

“Bane, do you copy? I am witnessing a most interesting interaction that I believe you should be made aware of!”

The hunter’s Mitrinomon jetpack thrusters kindled upon activation, lowering his gangly body to the ground below. He threw one leg over the seat of a pirate speeder bike, gifted to him long ago for the completion of a job by none other than the Ohnaka gang. He had kept it all these years, stowing it away in his cargo bay. It served its purpose on many planets, and just because he was growing to extremely dislike the Weequay didn’t mean the damn thing should go to waste; he almost wished he had never worked for him at all. To know him was to loathe him; Hondo was an acquired taste.

Bane opened up his messenger bag; it was being toted along behind him and around his back. He stored the macrobinoculars for a later date, his feet coming up to grace the bike’s foot pegs. He hit the button to his comlink.

“Give me de details.” His behest was terse, though the droid readily complied.

“A bounty hunter is present here at the Desilijic Complex near one of De Maal’s Docking Bays. Records indicate he goes by the name of “Brainee” and is employed by Jabba the Hutt.”

“Why’s dhat so ssuspicious? Hunters all around dhese parts.”

“He seems to be waiting on someone. I heard him speak to … Boba Fett.”

Bane had been about to impart a drink into his thirsty mouth, the canteen waiting at his lips. He nearly spit his water out, growling audibly at Todo 360 to quickly finish relaying his information. “And??”

“Well, he has since left, but it was mentioned that Brainee should return to the palace as soon as the gunrunner he’s waiting for shows up.”

Bane’s eyes constricted at the prospect; he finally had a lead. That little droid might be worth the credits he had spent on repairing him all those years ago.

“Stay dhere. If dhey show up before Ah arrive, distract de bounty hunta' so he doesn’ leave… try te place a tracker on dhat runner, too. On’m way.”

“Yes, Bane!”

---

Zulara inched a glove over the arm of her slim-fit bodysuit. It was matte, unobtrusive, yet offering no protection. It would not be able to withstand outright blaster fire; it wasn’t meant to serve a purpose except to hide her identity. Kayson was wary, afraid she might stand out.

Her skin was a unique pigment and contrasted highly with her raven hair; even her face had to be covered. Her eyes were by far one of her more engaging features; she would wear a mask of sorts. It was accompanied by a transparent face-shield, black, yet her clients would see a tinted viewplate the expanse of her whole face. Beyond that, her hair was pulled back into a knot, resting between two Velcro straps. She had an inexpensive linen cloak to match, the hood to be drawn up so as to cover her jet-black locks.

Zulara had attired herself as such, taking up the blasters she had modified. Kayson had wished her luck, then she was off to tread the tunnels of Mos Eisley.

The city was divided into two: old and new. Kayson’s Weapons shop was among the business district, near where the tourists might find themselves, and the Desilijic Complex was on the other side of town.

It was noted to be difficult to conduct certain transactions from his palace, so Jabba had an estate; a place to meet. Each quarter of the city had its own neighborhoods, and Slave Quarter’s Row was a part of Tar Mass, near the Mo Moolee Rah market, and that’s where Zulara found herself residing. Walking the streets - especially at night - could be quite dangerous. That’s why she always had a vibroknife.

Zulara turned a corner; she traveled down an alley, skirting behind a building to find a set of ancient stairs near hidden in the darkness of the shadows. Though the sun shone high, it did not reach this particular narrow intersection, the dimly lit corridor stretching out for miles below.

This tunnel extended in multiple directions; it splintered left and right on more than one occasion. Lanterns guided her along the way; you had to know where you were going, or there was no doubt that you would get extremely lost.

Zulara knew these passageways like the back of her orchid hands; Kayson had trained her, taught her well, and sent her down here at night and in the daylight. He had given her water, food, then told her to find her way out again. It was a maze to most, leftover from a period of time long, long ago, though still of use to those who knew how to traverse its depths. These tunnels would lead her right to the very place she had been asked to rendezvous, give or take a glekk or two.

Zulara found herself in a grotto; it was an artificial cave of sorts, built right under Jabba’s property. She went a little further inward; she stood in the middle of the wide, manmade recess. She almost thought to shout out loud for fun, to hear the echo that would bounce back at her. Instead, she found another set of stairs.

The binary stars were hot, and the black she wore did not help, though she thought she saw the one named Brainee as he had been physically described to her. He was a male Siniteen with golden eyes and grey colored skin. His species was said to be hyperintelligent, capable of interstellar travel without the assistance of computers. He was hairless; he had a head that was oversized. He was one of the stranger aliens she had come across since leaving Lothal, though it wasn’t her business to overtly judge him. She was there to exchange blasters for credits on Kayson’s orders, and that’s exactly what she strove to do, moving stealthily until she reached this member of their much broader clientele.

Zulara whispered, sneaking up behind the unsuspecting mercenary, though the girl herself not expecting Bane’s little droid to be lingering somewhere close by. The Siniteen turned to face her, presented with his own reflection in her mask. She held a bundle tightly under wraps. “Brainee?” she asked the man.

“Took you long enough!” he snapped, arms folded across his rather plain ensemble – he wore grey armor and dark blue trousers -the girl noting nothing special about him except his odd-shaped cranium; she knew where he got his namesake.

Zulara responded, keeping her voice low, though there was a definite impression of annoyance present in her tone. She hated snappy customers.

“You want these blasters, or not?”

“Let’s see them, then.”

Zulara withdrew her bundle; Todo 360 was hovering high above. He observed them from his roost; it was placed between a divot in the wall. He slowly inched his way down on miniature retro thrusters, silently approaching their exchange. His goal was to attach a tracking device to the edge of this person’s cloak, a female by the looks of it. She was too shapely to be a man.

“Fitted with precision Luxan circuits, just like you asked. Do you have the credits?”

Brainee tossed a bag to her; she untied it and peered inside. It was heavy, though unmodified the blasters didn’t used to be worth that much, but now they were in high demand. The Empire had been confiscating them, throwing their owners behind ray shields. Both her and Brainee were taking a giant risk, but all the money was accounted for – ten thousand credits each; unmarked - Kayson’s fee was rather steep, despite her doing all the work.

“Nice doing business with –- who’s he?”

Todo had just finished hiding his device among the folds of Zulara’s linen cloak, though Brainee had caught sight of him. The little droid tapped his tiny fingers together, the metal clinking as he stuttered anxiously. “Oh, h-hello! I thought you were someone else! My apologies … I was just waiting for- Ah, there you are, Bane!”

While the droid was speaking to them, Zulara had taken the time to rack her memories. He looked oddly familiar, though only seeing him once in passing. She almost couldn’t place it, but he had a distinctive look and peculiar features - yellow eyes that stood out amongst the others of his kind – that’s when she remembered -- he had been tottering around outside Chalmun’s Cantina that fateful night.

Her heart dropped; it sank deep inside her chest. It nearly wound up in her guts, the girl beside herself in nervousness. She thanked the living Force she had a mask on to hide the look upon her face. Brainee had taken a step in the opposite direction, but didn’t seemed too concerned. Bane and he shared the same profession, though Cad’s entrance was entrancing.

A dust cloud settled; Bane threw a speeder bike into park. It lowered to let him off. He was wearing something different than before; a lightweight, bantha colored tunic encased his handsome, lithesome frame. He sported a vest of armor, grey or silver, embellished with an individualized design across his shoulders and his chest. It cinched in front, and he had extra gas cartridges hanging off his hips for quick replacement.

His trousers were the color of Cortosis ore; they clung to his lanky legs. He sauntered forward in no real rush, a toothpick being toyed with by his mouth and that featly tongue. One hand lightly settled upon a single LL-30 BlasTech pistol, and that’s when Zulara realized she would most likely have to run.

Though, she didn’t want to – she wanted to walk forward, enshroud him in her arms - kiss him, beg him to touch her once again. She was caught - trapped - between her feelings and the little droid. She waited almost a moment too long, caring enough to see what it was he wanted.

“Well, what we got here, hm?” His husky voice sent a shudder down her backbone. Zulara knew better. She retreated an inch or two while Brainee stayed his ground.

“Bane,” the other hunter said with slight disdain. “That your droid?”

“I have a name! I am Todo 360, a techno-service droid who won’t answer to the likes of you!” He had an attitude, that much was for sure.

Zulara watched as his little feet ignited, sending him forward to rest at Cad Bane’s green, knee-high boots. He was no taller than half the height of his master’s legs. The droid was rather cute, though coming off as a nuisance; she wished she had seen him sooner.

“Ah’ll be de one askin’ questions. Ferst off, what’s dhat in yer hands?” Bane canted sideways on one foot, sizing his victim up - Brainee was no match for him - that’s when he turned his head. There was an unknown person dressed in black; his attention had been captured; Zulara mildly panicked. The girl backed up one or two more steps before she turned tail right around and fled.

Bane ignored the cloaked figure for now, snapping his middle finger against his thumb. Todo followed suit without so much as a verbal confirmation; he was accomplished at reading Cad Bane’s mind as they had been together for so long.

The Duros retrained his focus back on the mercenary - he knew Todo would most likely be successful – Bane would track this person down if his droid didn’t manage to. He waited rather impatiently for this Siniteen to spills the Bith beans.

“None of your business, maybe?”

“S’ma business if Ah say it is.” Cad Bane’s oval eyes had narrowed. He closed the small space between them. His gloved hand came up; it found itself wound ‘round this fellow Brainee’s windpipe. There was now a blaster to his head; his own face was inches away from the Duros’ gnawed up toothpick - his golden gaze glared back at Bane - he was offended his fellow hunter thought he could get away with this.

“If you MUST know, they are DL-44’s. I paid for them fair and square – not that you should be concerned - and get that karkin’ weapon away from me!”

“Il’ legal, Ah’d say. More concerned with who dhat was ye'were talkin’ te -- where’d ye get it?”

“Since when do you care about something being illegal, Bane?”

“Got m’reasons.”

“I don’t know who that was – the connection was made through some Rodian back out in Tar Mass - he just said he could have them modified for me.”

“Best be tellin’ de truth, son. Don’ mind figurin’ out ways te getcha te talk a lil’ more.”

Bane released the Siniteen, retracting his blaster pistol. He comm-called Todo as he casually turned around, making his way back to his pirate speeder bike.

“Todo! Where are ye? Which way dhey headed?”

“We are currently passing the arena!” his little voice chirped in.

---

Zulara was doing her best to lose that infernal droid. He was persistent, almost as much as his blasted master. Her heart was beating rapidly, her breath coming out in gasps. Normally she could remain calm in situations such as this, but this was different – Cad Bane was after her for real this time – if only Pampy knew.

His reputation had proceeded him. Before she had known nothing, but now the rumors, the stories, his past misdeeds were getting to her, filling her with fear and trepidation, despite the other side of her wanting to draw him in.

Todo, as he had called himself, was hot on her heels - her zigzag trail - no matter which way she turned down a back street or an alleyway. She was trying to ward him off among the market stalls, the passerby’s – tourists, commonfolk – he was gaining on her with every stride she took.

Zulara finally stopped in a bypass between two buildings to catch her breath. The droid spoke aloud to her, obviously quite satisfied, his little feet still set aflame as he hovered only a foot or so away.

“Nowhere to go, I am afraid. You can run, but Bane will always find you.”

Zulara shucked her cloak off; she raised her arms above her head as she performed a dance move. Her hands crossed, intertwining; they tangled together in a graceful motion while she spun around on the balls of her dainty feet.

Zulara tossed the robe; she flung it over Todo. He was blinded temporarily, and unbeknownst to her, the tracking device removed from off her person. She darted onward as the service droid struggled to break free.

“Bane! Everything has gone completely dark! They are getting away!” he spoke into the airwaves, his voice carrying to Bane who was not that far behind.

“Whaddeye mean erry’thing’s gone dark? It’s bright as fek outside!”

Cad Bane threw his speeder bike in park, hopping off in one fluid, gracile jump. He used his rocket boots to propel him forward down the open streets. “Ah’ve locked in on de target. Got ’em in my sights.”

The hunter came across the tracking beacon and his quarry’s cloak, but it was not the one whom he expected to be clothed within. Todo had just managed to fling it off when his master landed to stomp forward, irritated at his incompetent, bungling droid.

“What in de blazes are ye doin’!?”

“They went THAT way!” Todo pointed to the right.

Cad Bane’s eyes searched the crowd; he homed in on a feminine figure in the distance - she was running - he assumed that was who he was after and pursued.

“Hold up, lil’ lady! Jus’ wanna tolk te ye!” Bane made it sound casual, nonchalant; Zulara knew better - she rounded another junction - picking up the pace the best she could.

Bane withdrew his bola; he swung it three times above his head to gain momentum. He tossed it at her feet, though Zulara dodged easily. She raised her legs in time to foil his initial attempt to capture her; her body bended at the waist; her hands found the course-grained ground of Tatooine as she carried out a forward flip.

The girl purposely grasped as many granules of sand as her fingers could gather in this state. Within the space of time that her entire body left the ground, the bola flew through the gap between her boots and her outstretched hands. It slapped against a sandstone structure then dropped down flat, Zulara running onward and veering closer to the right side of the alley.

She kicked off the nearest wall, making Cad think she was going left. He swiped at her and missed as she rebounded off the left wall next. Zulara resembled a balletic feline springing into action in her attempts to get away; she was quick, limber, and giving Bane a run for that money he so desperately wanted to collect.

The frisky creature careened around the end of the hairbreadth road and straight into a darkened avenue, down a set of age-old steps. Cad Bane followed as his bounty zipped through two more hoary corridors, snapping a hand upon her sylphlike wrist when he managed to get close. Spindly fingers encircled her as Zulara lightly exuded her surprise, though she wished his grip on her was within a different context.

“Gotcha.” Bane moved to initiate the sting of his contact stunners; Zulara opened the palm of her gloved hand. The hunter paused for just a moment, taken aback by the sudden action -- it was enough.

Part of her already regretted this, but regardless, Zulara threw the sand she had been carrying straight into his beautiful, ruby-red wide-eyes.

“Ye fekkin’ witch!” Bane had momentarily released her, covering himself with both his outspread palms. He cursed her as she lunged forward, wanting to cry due to the damage she had most likely caused.

Bane fired a bolt of blaster shots and missed; his aim was off due to his lack of vision. Zulara took a tunnel to the right, she ran – kept running – nothing would stop her from getting out of these damn tunnels and to the surface, away from the bounty hunter as he screamed at her with a voice risen in a terrible, quaking fury, the wrath present more than obvious as the reverberation of his accent came out full Durese; it was frightening.

“Ah’ll kr’iffin’ KILL YE when Ah find ye! Yer days are numbered, girl! MARK MY WERDS!”

#Cad Bane x OC #Star Wars #Fanfic #Ao3 #my writing

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ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years ago

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Disaster Lads: A Collab, Part One

This is part one of a five-part collab piece I did with @whumpiary! In which our disaster lads meet and the inevitable ensues.

CW: Referenced drugging, forced drinking, referenced past noncon, some dubcon fuckiness and trauma response headspace. Things get darker as we go, and more explicit, too. But also Kauri flirts and it’s adorable. Just a fair warning. I’ll do warnings for each individual chapter as we go.

Tagging Kauri’s crew: @maybeawhumpblog, @pepperonyscience, @haro-whumps, @18-toe-beans, @burtlederp, @finder-of-rings, @giggly-evil-puppy, @whimpers-and-whumpers, @moose-teeth, @whump-it, @lumpofwhump, @pumpkinthefangirl, @spiffythespook, @slaintetowhump, @astrobly

Kauri isn’t entirely sure how it happened, but somehow his back is against a wall, a drink is in his hand, and there’s a man leaning over him with that grin on his face that Kauri usually likes… but today, he doesn’t.

The bar is kind of dark, and there’s a band playing something that mostly sounds like sad yelling over geese honking to Kauri, but everyone had cheered when the band came onstage so maybe he just doesn’t get the music. He’s not even dressed for the bar, honestly - he’s in his big black zip-up sweatshirt, Dustin’s so it hangs off his shoulders and his hands are mostly covered by the sleeves. A thin thrift-store t-shirt and ripped-up black skinny jeans, the faded old checkered slip-on sneakers he’s had forever… he looks halfway homeless.

The guy has him cornered anyway, and Kauri is feeling all the other drinks he’s let guys buy him tonight, kind of spinning and silly with the alcohol in his veins. It makes it easier not to feel uncomfortable, but part of him is.

He wants to say no, but the word sticks in his throat.

“Come on,” The guy says, leaning over him - it feels like looming - and pushing even closer into his space. “I bought you the drink, the least you could do is a little something for me in return.”

I don’t want to, Kauri thinks in something like a panicked wail.

The man’s knuckles brush the side of his throat and it’s probably a flirtation but Kauri thinks of Owen’s hands around his neck - it feels like a threat.

“Wh-what… what did you have in mind?” Kauri’s voice is airy, a little breathless. His heart is pounding, his face is flushed, and maybe he looks into this… but he’s not. But it kind of seems like the guy maybe knows and doesn’t care.

“A lot of shit, honestly, you’ve been on my radar a while, but first… let’s start with you finishing that drink.” He reaches out and takes the glass out of Kauri’s hand, raising it to his lips. The first sip of syrupy-sweet cocktail seems more like liquid ash on Kauri’s tongue. “You’re a pretty cute drunk.”

“Am… am I?” He asks when the man lets him stop drinking. “I, I don’t want-”

“Have another drink,” The man interrupts, and pushes the rim of the glass against his lips again.

Cass had been watching the guy with the curly hair and the cute smile on and off all night. Partly because he's pretty. Partly because he looks like he’s dressed for a soup kitchen rather than a bar. But mostly because he looks familiar. Annoyingly familiar, in a way that’s maybe more significant than ‘hey didn’t we fuck in a bathroom stall one time?’.

The girl Cass has been chatting to is very, very, very boring. Stupidly boring. So it’s ridiculously easy to focus his attention just over her shoulder at Curly Hair and the guy who’s got him pressed against the wall in the corner, and the pink drink that’s being held up between them, fed to the shorter of the two like it's the holy fucking grail.

Desires are sticky. Syrupy. And in a bar like this, with music like this, with people like this, revulsion is bitter and obvious. Like whiskey in apple juice. Like smoke under perfume.

Cass wishes he'd had more to drink. A couple more vodka tonics and he'd probably refuse to give a shit. But he's annoyingly sober, and he can't help but notice Curly Hair sort of glance around, looking for an exit that doesn't exist.

Cass watches as he smiles, tilts his head. Cass' stomach lurches. He's seen that head tilt. Fuck, Cass has given that head tilt. I want you to want me but I don't want this.

“Hey Kirsty," he says, serving a grin to the blonde next to him. She frowns.

“It’s Kristie.”

“Right. Kristie,” Cass says. Easy smile, a finger tracing circles on the back of her hand. “You wanna go dance? I’ll catch up in a sec”

The girl pouts, grabbing his hand, “Aren’t you gonna come? I kinda thou-”

“Kʀɪsᴛɪᴇ, ɢᴏ ᴅᴀɴᴄᴇ.”

The girl's frown melts into a grin faster than she can notice what’s happening and nods her head enthusiastically, like dancing had been her idea in the first place. And then she’s gone, melted into the pulsing mass of bodies.

Cass needs to get out of here. In a bar like this, with music like this, with people like this, the feeling of I don’t want this is so loud and grating it makes Cass’ heart catch in his throat. And then there’s the other guy. Cass can feel the fucking lust pouring off of the guy. Not just the desire for an easy lay but the absolute exhilaration of a predator who’s got dinner trapped. Or is about to, Cass thinks, eyes following the asshole’s gaze to where they're fixated on a sickening cocktail he’s feeding the smaller guy.

Cass pushes himself away from the bar. He needs to get out of here. He needs to get out of here before he does something stupid because he promised Lou he wouldn't pick anymore fights and because this is none of his business and just because the guy seems familiar doesn't mean Cass knows him but he still finds himself snaking to the corner, anyway, grabbing the tall guy by the elbow-

“Hey, do I know you from somewhere?” he says, feigning rapt enthusiasm.

The taller guy looks Cass up and down. His hair is annoyingly perfect. Like if you tapped it, maybe it'd make a sound like knocking on hard plastic.

“I don’t think so,” the guy says, shark teeth twisted into a grin. Cass watches as his grip tightens minutely on the glass he’s holding. Yeah, fuckhead. Wouldn’t want to lose that, now would we? “If you don’t mind, we’re kinda busy.”

And he's turning back to Curly Hair, who is melting into the wall, a skittish mess of maybe he’ll talk to the new guy - if it’s what you want then I want it - I don't want this - just say no kauri you can just say no - I want this I want you - just say no stop it stop - no just drink it don’t make him mad - I don't want this and Cass really fucking wishes he'd had another few drinks because then he could just walk away, but instead he hits the cocktail careening out of Tall Guy's hand, a spectacular pink mess over the guy's crisp white shit.

Kauri flinches back, hands up over his mouth, staring wide-eyed at the mess.

"Shit, dude. Sorry. I'm such a klutz," Cass grins, holding up innocent hands with a shrug. "That roofie wasn't expensive or anything, was it?"

And sure, maybe this was none of his business, but it's so satisfying when the guy shoves him into the wall. Maybe even more satisfying than the sound of the crunch of the guy's nose breaking as Cass headbutts him in the face.

The guy stumbles back, hands over his nose as blood starts to pour, screaming half-formed curse words that are muffled by his hand and the nasal sound of his voice. From behind the bar, a bartender yells, “God damn it, no fighting! What the fuck, Kauri?!”

Kauri curls back against the wall, his wide, frightened eyes going from the bloody pink-stained man to the new guy who had hit him with his whole entire head and back again. “I’m sorry!” He shouts back to the bartender. “I’m sorry I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

“Yeah, well, do something about it!”

Kauri gives the bartender a look of incredulous terror. He’s 5’7” and all lithe, willowy flexibility and he has the brute fighting strength of a very small kitten.

“Like what, exactly?!”

The guy drops his hand - the bottom half of his face is a mess of blood now - and with a snarl, pulls his fist back to punch Cass again.

“Stop them fighting over your dumb hot ass or I’m calling the cops, Kauri!”

The name sticks in Cass' head as he lets the guy land another punch, hard on his cheek.

"Kᴀᴜʀɪ, ɢʀᴀʙ ʜɪs ᴀʀᴍ," he says, on impulse, because the guy is kinda huge and Cass isn’t particularly strong, and he’s been in plenty of fights but he usually only stops them by not really being conscious anymore.

Kauri’s hands snap out thoughtlessly, grabbing the guy’s other arm and helping Cass shove him face-first against the wall, only to freeze up, eyes widening even more in terror as he has no idea why he just did that.

"You better calm the fuck down, man," Cass says, twisting the guy’s wrist so it twinges just a little behind him. He feels amped up and shaky with adrenaline. He hopes he looks as feral as he feels. The big guy blinks, slow and stupid as he tries to catch up with what just happened. "'Cause either I'm gonna kill you or the bar staff are gonna call the cops on your ass. And we both know what they're gonna find in that glass.”

The guy's eyes widen in shock, then narrow. “You can’t prove-”

“You roofied me?” Kauri asks, as though the multiple comments Cass had made had only just sunk into his mind. He felt himself reel with horror, trying to pull away, but his hands just… don’t want to let go of the man’s arm. Panic was a drumbeat in his mind. He knows what roofies are, Nat told him about those, and that they taste kind of salty but there was a salt rim on the drink the guy bought him-

“You were going to roofie me?”

“That jackass broke my nose!” The guy yells, although it comes out more like dat jackash boke by dose. Cass kind of wants to interject that he probably didn't break the guys nose, but it doesn't really seem like the time. “I’ve been talking to you all night and you just believe some asshole that walks up and punches a stranger?”

“I… I…” Kauri cringes back from the fury in the man’s voice. He’s going to be hurt, and he’s terrified, and the only thing on earth he wants right now is to get out of here and away before the man’s hands are around his neck just like Owen’s, it’ll be like that, he’ll hurt and hurt and then pass out and if he can just maybe make nice the guy will stop being angry-

“I, I’m sorry, you-... you did buy me the drink, that was… that was nice… but, but if he saw you-"

"He didn't see shit."

The guy did not seem to realize that that wasn't exactly denying he'd done it.

Cass feels cold fury run through him. He can feel the lust-turned-sour, good-night-wasted annoyance that the guy in front of him is vibrating with. And the panic pouring off of Kauri, so palpable and crystalline it may as well be his own. The want to run away, to get out of here, to back down, to apologise, make nice. They mingle together in his head.

Who the fuck tries makes nice with the asshole who was gonna drug them? He tries to ignore the ‘you sure used to’ that creeps into his head.

Cass doesn't care. He wants to run away and he wants to get out of here but more than that he wants to make someone bleed. This guy walked into the bar tonight, sought out the most vulnerable guy he could find and thought prey. He deserves to know what that feels like. He flips the guy around, pressing a hard hand to his chest to keep him flush to the wall.

“I think I’m gonna call you Scooter,” Cass says “You look like a Scooter”

“The name’s Matt, jackass,” the guy growls. It takes way too much effort to pronounce the M. Cass grins. Matt, huh?

"Alright, Mᴀᴛᴛ. Tᴀᴋᴇ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇsᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ G ᴛʜᴀᴛ's ɪɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴘᴏᴄᴋᴇᴛ. Gɪᴠᴇ ᴜs ᴀ ʟᴏᴏᴋ,” he says. The guy blinks, reaches mindlessly into the pocket of the shitty jeans he’s wearing and pulls out a nondescript little bottle. Matt is staring at the drugs like he can’t imagine how they possibly got into his hand. Cass grins. It’s nice to stare at a predator and make them feel small. "I think he should have to drink it. What do you think, Kauri?"

"Jesus Christ," Matt says, nasally and strangled. "Why did... What the fuck, I should knock your teeth out!"

Kauri grabs the pill bottle out of his hand and tries, despite his hands shaking so badly the fucking bottle rattles, to look like he's reading, carefully keeping his eyes unfocused so they won't try to settle on or understand the letters. Kauri steps closer to them both, putting his hands up slowly, like a man being held hostage.

"Look, you guys, we can just… nobody has to fight," He says, pitching his voice lower, cocking his head just a little to the side. "The bouncers are gonna kick us all out in a second and, and I don't need-... We don't need that, right? Matt? We don't need to, to have anybody closer than this. Just us, right?"

His heart hammers, heartbeat so strong it's nearly knocking the breath out of him. His voice is airy, and soft, and just a little flirty under the fear.

You can fix this. No one calls the cops, no one tells, no one looks too close.

"You didn't n-need that, I'd have… have gone with you anyway, Matt…"

Kauri, you can't say yes if you don't know how to say no. He ignores Nat's strident voice in his head and slides just a little closer, the rise and fall of his chest and the whites around his eyes the only giveaway of his fear. He can see bouncers and he has to make this better before too many people are looking at them.

Matt snorts a kind of bitter, angry laughter, then winces as that burns his injured nose. "You would. The ones like you always do, right?"

Kauri freezes, all the color draining out of his face. The bottle of pills drops to the floor and rolls away, kicked by someone walking by and getting lost somewhere in the crowd. "What?"

"Tell your fucking White Knight to fuck off," Matt says reaching out to grab Kauri's left wrist. "Kauri Grant."

Cass doesn't have time to figure out why the fuck that name sounds so familiar. All he needs to know what's happening is in that look on Kauri's face. He's seen that look. God, he's given that look. Whoever Kauri Grant is, he needs to be the hell away from here. Now.

"Okay, seriously buddy, we don't want anymore trouble," he tries, taking a quick glance at the bouncers closing in behind them "How about you let this go and we do too?"

"I'm not letting go of shit," says Matt, with a smile full of blood. He has one hand locked over Kauri's wrist, pushing up against the leather bracelet there. "Do you have any idea how much this little whore is worth?"

Cass swings the punch before he even has the chance to think what that could mean. Which is maybe not a great move, actually, with bouncers headed their way and a bar full of patrons who are starting to look over. It's especially not a great move because Matt swivels, jerking out of the way, sending Cass' fist straight into the side of Kauri's skull.

Kauri's world crashes at the impact, stumbling back and falling hard onto his side on the floor, head bouncing against the sticky woodgrain, blinking against the black spots dancing in front of his eyes.

It doesn't stop the panic.

Kauri Grant Kauri Grant Kauri Grant

"Y-you can't," he tries, his voice sounding weird and off to his own ears, pushing himself up. "Can't, can't turn me in-"

"I wasn't going to, before that little shit showed up," Matt says with a nasty note of triumph in his voice, one Kauri knows too well. "The guy who just hit you."

Kauri manages to stand up, catching the bouncers too close, too close, and he grabs onto Cass's arm. "He was… was trying to hit you," Kauri says, voice shaking. "And you-... tried to drug me."

"Like no one's ever drugged you before," Matt sneers, and Kauri swallows, hard, and doesn't protest. Matt waves at the bouncers. "Hey! This is Kauri Grant!"

The frozen fear in Kauri thaws and he jerks at Cass's arm to yank him not towards the door but deeper into the bar, pushing through the crowd towards the other side of the stage.

Kauri Grant Kauri Grant Kauri Grant

Cass knows that name, why does he know that name?

It doesn't matter. What matters is they get the hell away from here right now. He turns in Kauri's grip to look over his shoulder, locks eyes with the asshole who seems intent on ruining this poor bastard's life.

"Mᴀᴛᴛ," he yells as he's hauled away into the crowd, "Sʜᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜰᴜᴄᴋɪɴɢ ᴍᴏᴜᴛʜ."

It's not exactly elegant but Matt slams his jaw closed so hard Cass can see him wince against the jolt of pain through his bashed in face. Cass cackles as they disappear into the mass of bodies on the dancefloor.

He feels high. There's twin feelings gripping his chest, the thrill of a fight and the blinding panic of running away. The rush of beating someone at their own game twisted with the knowledge that they need to get the hell out of here before they're caught. He has no idea what's happening but it's fast and it's thrilling. It's making him dizzy, making his blood pump electric. He barks another laugh as he dodges some random guy's elbow, grips Kauri's hand even harder and lets himself be pulled.

"God, who the fuck is Kauri Grant?"

Kauri pulls him to a small door labeled EMPLOYEES ONLY just to the side of the stage, shoving it open and stumbling out into a dark alley, the sudden chill on his skin the only reason Kauri realizes he's sweating.

Out here the noise is gone, there's the sound of sirens far away, and Kauri's eyes dart around, thinking, before he pulls Cass to the right, further down the alley, stepping over refuse and empty beer bottles.

"I… I am," Kauri says, voice thin. The side door they just left opens and he pulls Cass quickly against the wall with him to hide behind a dumpster. "I'm Kauri Grant." He swallows hard, panic still beating at the back of his mind, and slowly slides down the wall to sitting, putting his head in his hands.

"You hit really hard for how skinny you are, d'you know that?"

Maybe it’s the sudden cold, or maybe it’s the way Kauri’s holding his head, but waves of exhaustion and regret and fear hit Cass all at once. He ducks down as voices and noise filter wide and loud, and then go squashed and muffled again with the swinging of the door.

“Fuck man, I’m so sorry,” he mutters, ducking his head to assess the damage. “I didn’t even think”

He reaches out a hand, pulls it back before contact. He really doesn’t know how to do this. The whole… God, what did Fuckhead McGee call it? The whole White Knight schtick. Is he meant to go find ice? Buy the guy a drink for his troubles? Usually when he finds himself kneeling on the wet concrete of an alley in front of a stranger it’s for a very different reason.

Cass sits back on his heels and laughs, loud and unabashed. He’d listened to that girl at the bar talk about her boyfriend for forty minutes when he should’ve been finding some pretty guy to sneak away with. And then he found a pretty guy and punched him in the face. Which… wasn’t always a dealbreaker, but even in the now relative quiet of the alley his heart is still slamming like there’s something to run away from and his brain feels cracked open and Jesus Christ, this night is already just so fucking dumb.

“Sorry. I’m sorry,” he says between giggles. He tries to calm it down to a grin. “I swear I’m not laughing at you, Kauri Grant. Did I, um…Is your head okay?”

"Yeah, my head's fine. I've been hit before," Kauri says, not quite muttering, rubbing his hand into his black curls. "Not usually in the head, but, you know, it's kinda empty anyway." He flashes a bright, deflecting smile, looking up at Cass.

Kauri's head cocks slightly to the side, something in his smile changing, softening a little. Not quite flirtation, something more in self-defense. "Can you just say Kauri, please? I don't, um, I don't like his name. Very much. It's just, that's what they call me…" His voice trails off. "Thanks for, um. For catching that guy… I didn't know he put something in it... I didn’t know he knew.”

Cass frowns a little, trying to understand. Didn’t know who knew what?

"Okay you have to back up, you're giving me more questions than… than answers right now..."

But then the pieces of Kauri he's seen through the night start falling together. The skittish eyes that didn't match with the flirting smile. Thanking the guy who would have happily held him limp in a basement. The wanting and wanting and wanting paired with the desperate need to run away.

The ones like you, that guy had said, looking at Kauri like he was something to be eaten. The ones like what? The ones who met conflict with apologies and desperate bids for distraction. His eyes flick to the bracelet on Kauri's wrist, thick and leather and out of place amongst the rest of his "robbed a Good Will" ensemble and too wide, really to be stylish. Just wide enough to hide a tattoo, maybe. Or a brand.

I don’t like his name very much. Cass feels himself paling.

"Oh my god, you're somebody's," he whispers. He closes his eyes and scrubs a hand over his face. Swallows the dry lump in his throat. "You're meant to belong to somebody."

Kauri jerks his arms back against himself, pulling the sleeve of his sweatshirt over the bracelet about ten minutes too late.

He looks up at Cass, blue eyes wide and pleading, and reaches out his hand to brush his fingers against Cass's hand, pitching his voice lower.

"You, you don't have to tell anyone. That I'm, um. You don't have to. I can… I can-" He has no idea how to say this. He focuses his thoughts on what he knows, falling back on training. I want this. I want you. I am an active participant in fulfilling my owner's desires.

"I can, um. Whatever you, you want, if you won't say you saw me?" His voice shakes - he can't seem to stop it. He has to hope it sounds like the good kind of nervous and not the terror he really feels.

Cass feels his stomach drop, something catching in his throat as fingers brush the back of his hand again. The tug and pull of I want this. The tilt of Kauri’s head is so tempting it looks rehearsed. I want you.

“That’s…” Kauri’s eyes are gorgeous — huge and blue and desperate — and Cass has to close his own just to think straight. “That’s not what… I, um.”

I want this. I want you. Resolute and relentless against his thoughts. I want this. I want you. Over and over and over again. Frenzied and pleading and wanting and fucking terrified. I want this. I want you.

Cass curls his fingers around Kauri’s, running his thumb along the other boy’s palm. I want this. I want you. Something in him feels shaken up and loose at the hinges from feeling it. It feels wrong. Too familiar, too close to home, too close to… something. Please let me want this. Please want me too.

Cass closes his eyes again, shakes his head. Maybe it’s just the after effects of being knocked crooked. Cass did punch the guy in the face. And it’s been kind of a fucked up fifteen minutes. Maybe they both just need the distraction. The relief of something simple and easy. And if they're both actively participating in something dumb and fun and stupid, maybe it’ll be enough to make them both feel better.

“Look, I’m not… I’m not gonna say anything,” he says, tugging Kauri’s hand closer, tracing a line up his arm. I want this. He smiles, let’s the pulse of it spur him on “We can just have fun, okay? I’m not gonna say anything”

Relief washes over Kauri, a wave of it that nearly knocks him over. He’s doing it right, his voice is right, all the training is working and letting him slide into an easier place in his head. His smile isn’t quite sincere and it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but the relief in it is very real.

Besides, the guy is cute, and Kauri would’ve gone home with him, too.

The ones like you always do.

There’s an unease - he doesn’t always like that things like that are true, about him - and he chases it away by closing his eyes and focusing his thoughts. I want this, I want him - and that part definitely isn’t a lie - and I’ll be safe if I give him this.

“Okay, um, th-thanks,” He says, voice just a little breathy, ducking his head with another shy smile.”I’m, um, I’m up for basically anything, basically always.” He gives a cheeky little grin and a laugh, like that’s a joke he tells to a lot of people and has memorized the timing on. “Just, I’m not trained for-... I don’t go in for pain. That’s it. Hey, so, um, you know my name… what’s yours? So I know what to scream later.”

He’d heard that in a movie once and always kind of wanted to say it.

Cass laughs, broken harmony against Kauri's own. The line is lame but it doesn’t really matter. Kauri makes it charming. He is ridiculously good at this.

"Cass. But usually people just stick with ‘oh, God'," he laughs, moving in closer, grin against grin. He leans in to brush his lip against Kauri's jaw, slow and teasing, hands staying steady on the guy's knee as Kauri hitches in a breath and shivers, turning his head to give Cass a better angle for it. "And I go for anything."

He wants this. They both do. The relief of something familiar and safe. Just a minute of stupid normal. I want this. Cass plants a kiss at the corner of Kauri's jaw. I want him. Cass lets his hand slide from knee to thigh. I'll be safe if I give him this. Cass pulls himself closer in, brings his fingers up to tangle in the dark curls at the nape of Kauri’s neck and… and…

I'll be safe if I want this.

The wave of revulsion that runs through him is slow and sickly, like hot tar, like molasses. Familiar and foreign in the same mouthful.

"Sorry. I, uh," he pulls back and he can feel the ghost of Christopher's hands on his hips, pulling his hair back, lips against his cheek – Don't hesitate, darling boy. Show me what you want.

“Hey… you okay?” Kauri murmurs the words, and it’s with real concern, shivering at the feeling of Cass’s fingers in his hair, slipping his own hands to touch lightly at his ribs on either side, a question and a test.

Cass feels adrenaline gripping him but that's fine, that's good, because wanting and fear walk the same line anyway. I'm an active participant. Which doesn’t feel like the shape of a thought that’s his but is close enough to that it doesn’t matter. He wants this. It's safer to want it. Then you don't have to think. You don't have to feel. That's why places like this are fun, why nights like these are so good.

So like every other night like this, he pulls in close to prettiest guy in the bar, pushes down the resistance in himself, and kisses him fucking senseless.

Kauri’s head tilts back and up for it, twisting his fingers hard into Cass’s shirt to pull him in even closer, until his head bumps back into the wall behind him and he loses his balance, falling back to sitting on the ground with a soft, sweet little laugh, a breath of air before he lets Cass kiss him mindless again.

The safest he’s felt for weeks is times like this, a man’s hands on him, a man’s mouth on his, knowledge and certainty that someone wants him, that he has something to give other people, some way to earn their kindness and repay it. His hands slide up Cass’s neck to tangle in his hair, too, pulling him in as close as he can get on the ground in a dark alley, skin lighting up everywhere they touch.

“H-hey, I can’t, ah-...” He breaks free, and flashes the shy little smile again. He feels so good now, safer, because he’ll be good and he knows Cass meant it when he said he wouldn’t tell, he looks like someone who won’t tell anyone, and Kauri has to trust him. “I don’t… I’m technically homeless. So if you think I’m taking you home, uh… welcome to my house, I guess,” He says, gesturing at the alley around them and then laughing a little to himself.

He’s gotten himself this far, but there’s still a hint of the artificial conditioning twining all his conscious thoughts. I want this is real and true but it’s also what he knows how to say, and I’m safer if I want it, I matter if someone wants me and I want to matter to someone runs under honest desire as he moves to slip his hand up under Cass’s shirt.

“H-how do you, how do you want to… um… this?”

Cass practically vibrates at Kauri's touch and he leans in even closer. Every touch is a relief. His body has been begging for this, for touch, all week

"Well I'd say we could go back to mine but…" Cass thinks of white walls, screaming fluorescents. His tiny quarters with the single bed and the sliding door that Tucker swans in and out of as he pleases. "Mine's not really much of a house either. So I guess we'll just get creative at yours"

He catches Kauri's lips again and pulls himself in closer until he's all but straddling the guy's lap. Kauri moves his body against Cass's like he was custom made for it. He lets his hand come to a gentle rest on the column of the guy's throat, his thumb tracing the line from his chin to his collar and back up again.

This is all Cass has wanted all week. To wrap himself in someone else's wants and just disappear for a bit. And yeah, maybe it feels a little off tonight. A little sickly. Like eating overripe fruit. But it's also been a long time since he's been this close to sober and trying to hook up with someone so who the fuck knows.

"Gotta say, I love what you've done to the place," he adds, breaking the kiss with a grin as he glances around at their elegant surroundings. Kauri laughs, almost a breathless giggle, glad he’s found someone with a real sense of humor even if it’s to keep him from telling anyone who he’s seen. Cass brings his lips to Kauris throat and let's his voice buzz electric along his jugular "I usually swoon for just one dumpster but three? You're such a romantic."

Kauri tips his head back against the wall behind him, staring up into the flat, featureless sky. As soon as Cass says the word Romantic, though, he goes perfectly still. Every muscle tense, for just a second it’s closer to holding a frightened animal than a person.

“Uh, th-thanks,” He manages, shakily, pushing the nerves back down. Just another way to call him a slut, like everyone else does, but he’ll do what he wants and be safer that way. It doesn’t matter if he calls Kauri a whore or a slut or a Romantic, it all means the same thing - people like him. People who can’t stop themselves, who don’t know better, who are nothing and no one unless somebody is touching them.

Cass is nice, and his hands and his mouth feel so good, and it doesn’t matter what he calls Kauri. What matters is giving him what he wants.

He makes himself relax, consciously, and slides his hands around behind Cass, shifting his hips up, letting training take over again until the nervousness could die back down. I matter if someone wants me, it doesn’t matter why or how, I’m safe if I want this.

“If you want, I could, um, could g-go down on you,” Kauri breathes, rolling his hips up.

Cass feels himself grinning at the same moment as he feels his stomach clench in a knot so tight he can hardly breathe. Wanting and fear walk the same line. The latter is easy enough to ignore.

"Fuck yes," he all but moans, swinging his leg around to sit against the wall beside Kauri. Cass fumbles for the button of his jeans. He wants this. Kauri does too. Cass can feel how much he wants this. Kauri wants to feel safe. He wants Kauri to feel safe. And he also wants his brain to shut off and stop screaming discomfort just because the water’s a little muddy.

It doesn't matter if he wants it because it's gonna feel so good once it's happening he won't even care. And then he'll make Kauri feel so good, Kauri won't care either. He won't care about being wanted. He won't care about being safe because Cass will make him feel fucking fantastic.

And all of that would’ve been fine if Cass didn’t look up and catch Kauri’s eyes. He feels the knot in his stomach twist. In less than a second any spark of libido he had had rots and dies. There’s no want in Kauri's eyes. No nervous excitement. It’s not eagerness that’s pulling their bodies in close.

Desperation and terror were just one hell of a cocktail. Especially when finished off with resignation.

Cass closes his eyes and let's his head fall against the wall with a dull thunk.

“No,” he whispers. “No, hold on, stop.”

He really wishes he'd had some ket. Or at least a bit of molly. Just something to blunt the edges of whatever the fuck is happening right now. Something is wrong with him.

"I can't do this," he murmurs, shaking his head. He doesn't open his eyes. "Something's wrong, I can't do this. You don't… you don’t..."

Kauri’s hands are still tangled in Cass’s shirt at first, and he slowly pulls them back, worried, leaning forwards to try and tilt his head and look closer at Cass’s face. No no no no. He’s done something wrong. He doesn’t know what, or how - it had seemed right, like it was all happening the way it was supposed to and soon enough he’d forget to be scared and just feel good things until it was done, and if it was good enough Cass wouldn’t tell anybody about him in case maybe he saw him again.

That’s how it works. Kauri gives, and he gets safety in return. But this isn’t safe.

You don’t even know if you actually want it or if you just think that because they made you. It’s what he thinks the end of that sentence probably is, because it’s what Dustin said when Kauri tried, and it’s what Jake said, and it’s what everyone tells him over and over again. That he can’t even know what he wants, because Owen wanted him brainless and a slut.

“I’m sorry, is it… something I’ve done?”

Cass scoffs a laugh, knocking the back of his head into the brick wall to try and shake his thoughts back straight. What the fuck is he meant to say? Sorry bro, my telepathy killed the mood.

“No,” he says, scrubbing a hand over his face “No you didn’t do anything, you just… you’re just-”

You’re just too fucking close to my kind of broken.

There’s a harsh sort of panic bouncing off of Kauri in waves at the rejection. What the fuck is Cass meant to do though? He can’t pretend like everything’s fine because it’s not. He can’t tell him to piss off because then he’d really be an asshole. He can’t fuck him because it’d be… that’d be...

Cass’ stomach lurches. He slams his hands down against the concrete with a growl, kicks at an empty bottle by his leg. It scrapes harsh against the ground in a loud, grating circle and Cass flinches his foot back like it cut him.

“Jesus Christ, this is fucked,” he says, laughter twisting his voice and making it bitter. He looks over at the person who pulled him out of a bar fight ten minutes ago. This random person who he'd started a bar fight for fifteen minutes ago. This random fucking person he shouldn't give two shits about. Cass shakes his head, "You don't wanna be here, man. Just go home."

Kauri snorts, almost bitterly. “I can’t, remember? I don’t fucking have one. Although I guess I could go sit on the bus…” He sighs, watching Cass - and he’s not always good at reading people’s intentions, but he can read emotions fairly well and he can see that Cass looks nearly sick, either angry or upset, and he just takes in a deep breath, putting his hands up over his face and then down again.

“No, I get it. It’s because I’m a pet, right? It’s, you wanted to see what it’s like with a pet. You saw me with that guy and knew, and you thought you’d try, too, and you can’t… don’t want to, once I’m really here.”

Cass is shaking his head before Kauri even finishes speaking. Who calls themself a fucking pet?

"What the fuck? No. Jesus Christ, no," he screws his face up, rakes his hand through his hair.

Cass can feel something volcanic starting to bubble up inside of him.

He had done everything right tonight. He hadn't had too much to drink. He'd helped some random guy in trouble just because it was the right thing to do. He'd taken Kauri’s lead and then he'd read the warning signs and he'd stopped. He’d fucking stopped. How was he still the bad guy?

"No fucking way are you putting that bullshit on me," he spits. "You're the one who pulled me out here. I was just trying to help. You don't know what you want, then don't fuck with people's heads!"

“Fuck with people’s-” Kauri’s own voice edges with real anger. “I didn’t fuck with anybody’s head! I just, this guy hit on me and bought me a drink, and you showed up and said it was drugged! I didn’t do anything wrong, people talk about wanting to try out pets all the time, I-”

He catches himself, cutting off his own voice all at once like turning off a radio. No no no, if you make him mad he’ll tell someone or he’ll get really really mad or…

Kauri looks away, down at the alleyway pavement, scraping at it lightly with one shoe. “... I’m sorry, I shouldn’t get angry. You were really trying to help, and, and that was really nice of you, to do that. I was just trying to, to pay you back, I guess? Besides, you’re… really fucking cute, so…”

It's the exact same trick he'd tried on the guy inside, Cass realises. Make nice with the wolf and hope that it'll be kind when it eats you alive. It's too familiar and too close and aimed at him and Cass wants to retch. It's burnt sugar disgusting. The desperate need to stay safe, to keep everything calm. No matter the cost. No matter what you give away.

"See, that is exactly what I fucking mean. Two seconds ago you were so mad at me you were basically screaming and now you're apologising and telling me I'm cute just so I'll..."

Cass breaks off, shakes his head, staring up at the hazy not-black of city sky at night. He shoves away the twin claws of rage and confusion as he meets Kauri’s eyes again, tries to keep his voice even and something close to calm.

"Look, I'm not- I'm not gonna say anything, alright? Whatever your deal is, I'm not gonna tell the cops or whatever" Cass tries for a smile "Trust me, I'd be just as fucked."

“Would you really?” Kauri blinks at him, no sign of that earlier flash of anger left, either in his posture or in his expression. He’d done what he’s best at, when it comes to being mad - just pushed it down until he didn’t feel it any longer, and he could see things from the other person’s point of view. Like understanding that Owen was mad because he’d tried to talk to someone when he wasn’t allowed, and that Dustin was mad because Kauri wanted more than he was willing to give, and the way everyone was mad that he wouldn’t sit still.

“And thanks. I won’t tell you what the reward for ‘information regarding my whereabouts’ is, though, if it’s all the same to you.” He tries for a small, slightly sidelong smile, more sincere than his last attempt had been. “Are you a runaway, too? Is there a reward out for you?”

Cass only barely stops himself from balking at the remark. Kauri says it so casually, like having a price on your head is just an everyday annoyance they might be able to bond over. Just all in a day. “Uh… no. No, there isn’t. I would just…” I would just have my contract re-assessed. Risk having my indenture reset. End up permanently locked in the lab. Or back in Christopher’s den. “My, uh, employer wouldn’t be very impressed if you get what I’m saying”

He adjusts his grip on his arm subconsciously, thumb running over the scar that sits along his inner arm. He’s always sort of wondered if one of Tucker’s little chips is there, just sitting by his radial bone, too close to the artery to risk cutting out himself. Guess he’ll never know.

He snaps his attention back to Kauri. Matches the guy’s smile with his own.

“But a reward, huh? Fuck man.” he says. A lofty one at that, apparently. Kauri Grant. Maybe that’s why the name was familiar. He would’ve seen it on the TV or something. Jesus, he’d had to help the one fuckin’ guy with a more tragic backstory than him. He laughs a little, like this is just some sort of watercooler gossip. Mondays, huh? “What did you do, kill your keeper?”

"My, um, my owner. And… no, I-I couldn't-" Kauri's eyes widen with real horror at the thought. "No, I would never have… um, he was, wasn't always that bad… I probably, I just-... I mean I did fuck up, but I didn't hurt anybody."

He looks away from Cass, a little uncomfortably, and says, "He, uh. Got mad when I fucked up. He broke a promise, and I… left. I guess you'd see it eventually, since there's no way I wasn't gonna take my shirt off for you."

He pulls down on the stretched-out neckline of his shirt, and even in the dim alley, a bit of a large, twisted scar shows over his collarbone.

"He paid a lot of money for, for me. I wasn't supposed to be able to leave. I took out the thing he put in to control me."

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greaserink · 5 years ago

Note

Yancy and the family will fight for Y/N. Bones will be broken. Blood will be drawn. Sure, Y/N can probably take care of themself, but thays not the point. It's a matter of principles. No one comes at Yancy's partner sideways and gets away with it.

It was dinnertime at the correctional facitility everyone deemed worthy to call "home sweet home" and you were just getting out of the line to fish out your seat right next to the group, walking passed rows of lunch tables.

You already had spotted Yancy glancing up from his faux chocolate dessert and nodding to you as he smiles and puts his fork in between his teeth. So, you flashed him a smile back, but it didn't last long when you found yourself resting in a mess of what you were going to call your dinner.

Your elbows and knees burned slightly when you slowly raised yourself up and out of your mashed potatoes and stared at the dirty linoleum floor.

In the corner of your eyes was a sneaker, and you followed it up and to the face of a gruff looking man. Seemed like he had a bone to pick with you. "Your the sorry sack of waste Yancy's been ooglin', ain't you?" Oh great, a guy tryin' to show himself as 'the boss'.

With what dignity you had left after that swan dive of a fall, you picked yourself and tried your best to dust off the food from your shirt. "And you're the sorry sack of sh*t that Yancy's probably not too keen on being buddy-buddy with no more."

In motion, you already couldn't stop yourself from closing the distance and giving him an uppercut that reels his head back and him giving a bark as he bites his tongue. The skin on your knuckles then start to burn after the second one to his ribs.

Before you saw the blur, the stranger quickly corrects himself and brings his hand up for a hammer fist but soon is falling back and into one of the foldable tables, landing into a few dinner plates too. Yancy was lowering his arms from when he braced them to what you guessed were the full brute force that pushed the guy to go flying across a whole table.

"And he's a bit upsets tha' a guy of the likes of ya thinks you can jus' mess with his pally like dat," Yancy spat out, now turning to you, eyes darting everywhere to see where you got hurt most. "You knows what ta do, pals."

With the go to make a move, Yancy's group he calls his 'family' starts grouping around the man, but you couldn't see nor hear what was happening, only a dying scream while Yancy escorts you down the hall and somewhere with more privacy. "You scared tha livin' hell outta me back 'dere, babes. You coulda gotten real hurt from a dude like him," Yancy screamed as he held your arm a little bit too tightly, pulling you along even further down the hall. He was silent for a brief moment like he was waiting for a response, but before you could he interjected, "'Course, I ain't gonna lie.... that was preddy hot.... you didn't even hesitate to gives it to 'im..."

He stopped the both of you and you couldn't help but raise your eyebrows at what he said, a grin slowly inching its way onto your lips.

He opened his mouth to talk again once more, but before he could utter anything else the both of you found yourselves with lips slammed together. Shocked, Yancy just stood there with eyes wide as he absorbed the information that you were kissing him. Wait, you were kissing him!!

So he kissed back, seeing that he was allowed to wrap his arms around since you did the same with him, but he gave a sharp muffled yelp when you dipped him.

"I think there are a few other ways I can show you how 'preddy hot' I can get." You smirked.

#ahwm #yancy x reader #ahwm yancy #raimeyl #i had to do something with this i loved it too much

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ask-jaghatai-khan · 4 years ago

Text

“I’m bored!” Gurz bemoaned through his helmet’s face-guard, as he pried up his red-hot choppa from the smoldering corpse of a mutilated human, “Nuffin’ but deze lil scrawny ones! It’s like da humies don’ even respect us! Gork, da red ones don’t even ‘ave dat much blood in ‘em! Where’s da fun of it all?”

“Dey’z either runnin’ outta good fightas or dey’z tryin’ ta make us bored! Now dat’s some cruel kunnin’!” Darg agreed, the hulking Nob setting his armored behind down on the wreck of Chimera transport.

All about the retinue of black-armored orkz there was nothing but the devastation of a resolved battle. The mainline of the human defence force had been smashed by the greenskin assault some hours ago, and most of the WAAAGH! had since gone back to camp to prepare for the next big push. Big Nob Skargrut’s gang - of which Gurz and Darg were members - hadn’t been content to wrap up so soon. As grizzled mega-warriors of the Goff clan, their bloodlust was never quite sated. They’d taken to the killing fields to try and hunt down survivors, but now that most dreaded of orkish foes was rearing its disgusting head - boredom.

“Normally I’d krump ya fer moanin’ like a coupla grots-” Skargrut rubbed at his half-metallic chin, the power-armored bulk of that senior ork officer dwarfing the already substantial forms of his comrades, “But I gotta say yer right. I’z gonna ‘ave words wit’ da boss when we get back ta camp. Maybe he finks dis is alright, but if I’d signed up for Big Ghazz’s WAAAGH! an’ dis is da kinda fightin’ I was left with, I’d be right fumin’!” He brought down his power-claw on the mangled corpse of a Skitarii Vanguard, the crunch of metal offering little satisfaction to the incensed alien.

Warriors under Boss Urgron, Skargrut’s boyz were but a handful of the legions upon legions of greenskins who now counted themselves under the banner of Ghazghkull Mag Uruk Thraka’s galaxy-spanning horde. They’d landed on this world - some humie dump by the name of “Benny-dikshun” - to conquer its forges for the Big Boss’ war effort. Yet all in all the fighting had been a massive letdown. To start it had been fun, of course. The initial clashes had seen the skies turned to fire with dogfights thicker than a cloud of squig-flies, and the ground had been a mash of Goff vehicles and sturdy warriors contending with the mechanized human defenders. Yet despite their technological help, the humans could do little to hold off the sheer unkillable brutality of the seasoned Goff horde. The pitiful pink-skins and their red-cloaked allies had retreated to the major hives or even into orbit, leaving the droves of ork infantry with little to do.

“Back in my day ya didn’t ‘ave ta be a flyboy to get all the fun! A proppa ork don’ need anyfing but his choppa an’ a good boss to lead ‘em to a scrap!” Skargrut did some more whining of his own, his colossal size and bellowing tone at odds with his petulant, childlike attitude.

“Urgron listens ta us!” piped in Furgga, their mob’s lead heavy-weapons specialist, launching off a plume of flame from his combo flamer-grinda, “I say we tell ‘im da mob oughta push on. We need ta get to da siege! An’ if he won’t go an’ just wants ta sit on his bitz pile - well, we’ll ‘ave yer back Skargrut!”

A round of grunting agreements and a few cheers went up. Skargrut commanded a sizeable mob of ‘ardboyz who might have been considered for Ghazz’s own retinue had they not been stuck in Urgron’s WAAAGH! The Nob wasn’t one for insubordination in the middle of a campaign, but he had his standards. When he’d heard rumors that they’d be fighting the red-cloaks on this planet, he’d expected big humie stompas and kustom tanks, not just droves of pitiful cyborg dregs. He figured they were hiding the good stuff somewhere, but he and his boyz would never enjoy that kind of scrap if they were stuck pulling up the rear of the main assault.

“Datz it, den!” Skargrut announced, “Stretch dem legs, boyz! We’z headin’ back ta camp, an den da camp is comin’ wif us!”

The clamor of some thirty power-armored orks thundering across the killing-fields together was enough to send snotlings scurrying a mile off.

—

“Almost dere ladz!” Boss Skargrut hollered, at least to those warriors close enough to hear him. The warboss took a moment to admire his new power-klaw, eager to give it a proper testing in the battle ahead. There were even still bits of red and green gore mashed into some of the joints - Skargrut hoped Urgron’s “lukky klaw” would bring him more luck than its prior owner.

On the horizon, the red glow of war could be seen.

The humie factory-hive was besieged from all angles, the full might of the greenskin horde turned against their stronghold, Skargrut had been sure to let every Nob know over the shouta-channels that he was in charge now, and that anything short of a full-out assault on every last humie bastion was unacceptable. They’d done a good job, the humies, for being a bunch of weaklings. Numerous concentric tiers of fortifications, from barbed trenches to full-on citadel walls had been prepared for the xenos attack, but still the orks pushed in yard by yard. Nothing could stand in the way of a Goff mob on the warpath. Maybe the humies had better shootas here and there, or more flash vehicles, but at the end of the day you couldn’t put a Goff Nob down with anything less than a grenade to the mouth.

As Boss Skargrut gave his orders, sending out bikers and stormboyz on the flanks to take out entrenched guns, he and his melee horde pushed up the middle. Even before the human defensive turrets had been crippled, but a paltry few of Skargrut’s mega-boyz had fallen to the sustained fire.

Yet just as the sheer bloodlust was building in the Warboss’ chest, his beady red eyes set on those outer fortifications where he knew some proper foes to sink his klaw into were huddled, there came a blaring noise that almost managed to deafen the iron eardrums of a greenskin.

Following that klaxon call, there was a thunderclap and a blinding light, and when Skargrut shook the stars from his vision, he noticed a good forth of his vanguard horde was no more. Instead, there was but a heap of bubbling slag.

The Warboss’ gaze shot to the source. A great figure had appeared from behind the ruins of a half-fallen outer bunker - a giant which made even Killa-Kans and Deff-Dreads look like fledgling boyz in comparison.

Its red and white armor gleamed despite the smog of battle, and its skull-face carried cold rage. From some unseen horn within its mechanized guts, another sound pierced through the din of war. To the orks, it was little more than unappealing noise, but all those servants of the Imperium in the vicinity recognized the Hymn of Donna Valkiriya, from the liturgies of the Martian Obikhod. That war-song of the red planet announced the arrival of the first cavalry.

Baron Korsakov of House Taranis lead his knight lance from out of the exurb ruins about the hive, charging forward to meet the orkish assault. Behind his Cerastus Knight-Atrapos came a company of similar machines, tall and swift and outfitted with a mix of enormous lances and devastating heavy weaponry. As if they intended to meet the orks in a straight assault like their primitive namesakes of old, the mighty colossi loped towards Skargrut’s lines as the greenskins reeled and braced in equal measure, unsure of what to make of this new enemy.

Though he’d just watched a great many of his warriors vaporized by just one of these machines in an instant, Skargrut’s brute face split into an eager grin. Now this - this was what he’d been waiting for.

#warhammer #40k #imperial knight #ork #goff #taranis #mechanicus #short story #fanfic

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theshadowspecter · 4 years ago

Text

Nuisance

(Bloom: again, warning for character death.)

Abigail was lost in thought as she made her way back to her boat. She had to force someone to take her place or suffer a truly horrible fate. She briefly pondered about taking another Mafia member; they were dumb enough to go with her...but the Boss...she couldn't go back to Mafia town. Not just yet. How was she gonna break the news that one of their guys was gone?And then ask them to come back with her? Not to mention Snatcher had mentioned how Mafia soul's weren't filling, or something. What if she brought back some Mafia, and the demon decided they weren't good enough? Then there were the goats and nomads of Alpine, but she didn't know how she would lure them. That just left Dead Bird Studios....

Now there was an idea! The moon penguins had probably barely even heard of Subcon, and those owls, while timid, were also very gullible! She could even tempt them with the idea of using Subcon as the next location for a movie, that'd be bound to get someone in to at least scope the place out! And all the contract said was she had to bring them to Subcon, right? She didn't have to hurt them or even bring them to Snatcher himself, right? She quickly pulled out the contract to skim it over again, confirming her thoughts. This was gonna be easy! She brings an owl into Subcon, gets free of her contract, and helps the owl leave before Snatcher can, well...snatch.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Arriving at Dead Bird Studios, she brought out the Bird ID that she had received from the Conductor (as a deal to let him into the Mafia Town bar) and walked up to the receptionist. “Evenin',” she greeted, “I'm here to see the Conductor.” The receptionist didn't even look up from his magazine, he just pushed a button and the door to her left opened. She thanked him and went inside, her plan forming in her mind.

She easily found the conductor talking with an owl and waving a script about in his...wing? Hand? Whatever. They clearly weren't filming at the moment, which meant he might actually listen to her.

“Hey Conductor,” she called out, jogging up to him, “I just got back from a trip to that dark forest at the edge of the desert, ya know, Subcon? And I thought it would make a great setting for a horror flick! Do you wanna come check it out?” Conductor looked her way for a moment before turning back to his script and waving her off with his wing, “nae, lass, I'm too busy wit me current filmin ter check out some old woods.”

“Well fine,” she huffed. “Maybe Grooves will want to go instead.”

That did the trick.

“Ohhh no ya don't lassie! I ain't gonna let that peck neck beat me! I'll go check out Subcon with ye.” She perked up, “really?!”

“Aye.”

“Great!, we can go after your shoot-” she began, starting to walk away. “Now hold on a min, lassie, I canne go taday.” The girl stopped in her tracks, and she turned back to him, “you can't?”

“Nae, lass. I got too much work ta do. How's de dae afta tomorrow sound?” She forced a smile and agreed, then left the Conductor to his work. She could still ask Grooves.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Now darlin, as much as I appreciate the idea, a horror movie is just not what the audiences want!” The penguin answered when she asked him, “if the Conductor wants to make a horror flick, that's fine by me! I know what people really want to see!” He smirked at his own rhyme, then left her to go back to his directing.

She sighed, before heading back to Mafia town. Like it or not, it was her home.

Back in Mafia town, she hesitated outside the entrance to Mafia HQ. She had to report to the Boss what had happened, but what was she going to say? The truth? I'm sorry but your Mafia man got gobbled up by a ghost that only let me leave after signing away my own soul? She pondered for a moment before walking away, back to her own home.

The next day, still wanting to avoid the Mafia HQ, Abigail went back to Dead Bird Studios. It would make for a nice distraction, at least for awhile. She had just walked through the main doors when a loud Scottish voice called over to her “ah lass! Perfec' timin!” Conductor had been talking with some owls before he went over to her. “Abou' tha' forrrrest,” he began, “I'm sorry ter say that I won't be able ter accompany yew after all.” Abigail froze up for a moment, “you can't?”

“Nae,” the bird continued, “Word is that Grooooves is ahead in his filmin, and I'm not abou ta just sit back and let him release a new movie unchallenged!”

“I see.”

“But fret not lassie, I'm still interested in tha' forest. In fact I've already come up wit' a name fer a new movie, 'Ghost Train', an' dat place will be da perfec' settin'! Course I still need someone ter scope out da place...” the Conductor spun around and pointed at a random Express Owl, “you'll do!”, he cheered. The meek owl let out a small cry, “m-me?”

“Yea, you! Go w' the lass to tha' spoooooky fores' an' see if it's got what it takes ta be in one o' MY movies!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was that very afternoon that Abigail and the owl set out towards Subcon. The history buff was lost in thought, trying to think of a way for her plan to work. 'If I could just loose the owl in the woods long enough to find Snatcher and tell him that I bought someone in but 'lost' them, that will have completed the contract. Then I'd just need to sneak back to the owl and get him out!' It wasn't a good plan, but it was all she could come up with on short notice. She was pulled out of her thoughts by a feathery wing tugging her sleeve. She looked down at the owl who nervously pointed ahead, “a-are we sup-pp-posed to go in there?” She turned and was surprised to see Subcon straight ahead. How long had she been lost in thought? She squared her shoulders, it was time. “Yep. That's Subcon.” She felt the owl shake. “It's...it's ok,” she said, more to herself than to the owl, “we'll just go in, take a few pics, jot down a few notes, and be out lickity-split!” 'At least I hope so' she thought, as she lead the way into the darkness.

The trek though the forest was uneventful, at the start. The express owl was very timid; he kept looking over his shoulder as they ventured further into Subcon. “A-are you sure this is the right way?”

“You bet!”

She really didn't have a clue. She was trying to find a spot where she could quickly leave the bird and then find him again. Thinking back to her previous visit, the only place that stood out to her was Snatcher's tree, but that would be walking right into the lion's den!

A quick movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. She paused, and motioned for the owl to stop as well. With a small hoot, he looked around like a trapped animal and whispered, “w-why'd we stop?” “I thought I saw something,” the girl muttered. If Snatcher was around, he wouldn't be dodging behind trees. She shook her head, “its probably nothing, let's keep going.”

It took two more instances of sensing something just out of sight that finally made Abigail stop long enough to think. Were they being followed? As if to answer her question, some nearby foliage rustled and out popped a....little cloaked figure. They were small, their face just a glow, hidden under a hood. The owl gave a yelp and hid behind Abigail, who's curiosity overrode her fear. Who was this?

The little figure gave a small wave up at her, “you must be the one the boss wants.” Abigail pointed to herself, “me?” The figure nodded, “yeah! Boss said if any of us saw you, to bring you right to him! And anyone who was with you as well!”

“Boss?” Abigail questioned, “...wait? Us?! There're more of you?” The little hooded one nodded before running ahead a little, then turning back to them, “c'mon! The boss hates to be kept waiting.” Completely dumbfounded, Abigail followed the small stranger, the Express Owl in tow. Abigail had a hunch who this 'boss' was, but was so wrapped up in questions that her previous rough escape plan had all but left her mind.

They didn't walk for very long before the figure stopped and turned, pointing at Abigail, “Boss says you should wait here.” It turned to the owl and grabbed his arm, starting to pull him away. The owl frantically struggled, calling for help and reaching back to Abigail, who, with a “Wh-hey!” started to run forward to grab him when she felt herself stopped. Looking down she saw about half a dozen more small identical-looking beings holding her back. She looked up to see four more pushing and pulling the owl-still crying for help-into some brush. Abigail started to call out, “Wai-!” when a bunch of thorny purple vines shot out of the ground around the owl and the others, completely sealing them from her view. What horrified her more, however, was the dead silence that immediately followed.

The ones holding her back had let go by this point, and she paused to gape at the vines before turning to question the newcomers, but found herself all alone. A noise made her look back at the vines, which were quickly retracting back into the ground, revealing Snatcher. A slight rustle from behind the specter caught Abigail's attention, and she noticed what looked like a couple of those figures running off carrying something heavy...

“I MUST SAY I'M IMPRESSED! I THOUGHT FOR SURE YOU WOULD HAVE BROUGHT ANOTHER OF THOSE DUMB BRUTES.” Abigail looked away in shame. Now two had suffered because of her. At least there would be no more victims...

“There,” Abigail huffed, “I completed my contract! Now relinquish my soul!” The specter laughed, “DO YOU REALLY THINK A SINGLE SOUL IS ENOUGH FOR ME? THAT WAS JUST A TRAIL RUN TO SEE IF YOU WERE UP TO SNUFF! AND GUESS WHAT? YOU PASSED!” With that, her contract flew out of her jacket and burned up in some blue flames. With a flourish, Snatcher poofed another contract and quill pen out of thin air. “HERE, LET'S SIGN ANOTHER CONTRACT!” Warily, Abigail glanced over this new parchment, which now ordered her to bring a new person to Subcon at least once a week for, “an entire month?!” She read, horrified. “THAT'S RIGHT!” Snatcher proclaimed, “AND HEY, THAT'S ANOTHER MONTH YOU GET TO LIVE! PROVIDED YOU MEET THE CONDITIONS ON THE CONTRACT, ANYWAY.”

Abigail trembled, frustration filling her chest. She glanced downcast and whispered “I can't.” She heard him sigh and looked up to see him looking back at her. Still smiling, always smiling, but his voice sounded a little dour. He flicked his wrist and a small golden ball of energy-Abigail's soul- formed in his hand. “IF YOU REFUSE TO SIGN, THEN YOU FORFEIT YOUR SOUL TO ME.” “Wait a minute!” Abigail sputtered, “I finished the initial contract! You have no claim over that anymore!” The ghost smirked at this and simply replied, “TOO BAD. I NEED SOULS, AND IF YOU WON'T BRING THEM TO ME THEN I DON'T NEED YOU AROUND. BUT HEY, I'M FEELING PRETTY GOOD RIGHT ABOUT NOW, SO I'LL GIVE YOU ONE MORE CHANCE.” His voice dropped to a deadly whisper, “SIGN. THE CONTRACT.”

Abigail's survival instincts kicked in and before she could even register what was going on she had already signed. Like before, the paper was stamped, rolled up and flew into her jacket pocket. Snatcher poofed her soul away with another flick of his wrist, before clapping his hands together, “WE'RE BACK IN BUSINESS! I'LL EXPECT TO SEE YOU SOON! SMELL YOU LATER!” and dove into the ground. Not wanting to spend any longer around there than necessary, Abigail took her leave.

Her entire trip back she had racked her brain for solutions to her problem, to no avail, and by the time she got back to Mafia town, she had a headache. Before she could reach her house, however, she heard a “Stop!”. She turned to find a Mafia member, who continued, “Boss wants to know where you are. Boss says to report to him.” Abigail groaned, she really didn't feel like a confrontation, “tell the boss I'll see him bright and early tomorrow, ok?”

“Mafia agree to deliver message.”

“Good,” she said, heading off to her home. She wanted to sleep, but there was no way she could now. Once home, she put some coffee on and went over to her desk. Grabbing a pen and piece of paper, she started to write out ideas...

#ahit #ahit au #shadowspecter #shadow specter #Snatcher #tw: death

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mystech-master · 5 years ago

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Something I’ve been thinking about when imagining my own BBTAG story is the fighting styles in each verse, more specifically how they are presented in animation.

Now we all know that Blazblue is the most powerfull verse in BBTAG, with Ragna being one of the most dangerous men on the planet with his Azure Grimoire. But let’s look at how the fighting styles are represented

Blazblue and Under Night In-Birth are both fighting games, so when the characters fight they have a certain tempo about them (think of how fast you press buttons and how fast the character animations respond). They seem even in terms of combat speed and power, but since it is a fighting game you don’t get nimble dodges, counters and parries (well you DO but in fighting games it’s more fo a mechanic rather than you see the character moving (their weapon) in a specific way to prevent an attack).

Persona is a turn-based RPG, yes, but when you look at the Animation, the Personas are WAY larger than they are in Arena and tear the ground and buildings asunder with their attacks. Just watch the first fight with Izanagi in the Golden Animation (Granted this is NG+ Yu but still) (2:43)

youtube

If you want me to count the P3 Movies, the Personas don’t do anything TOO spectacular in those, outside of Aigis (let’s see what Ragan can do against a million bullets) but even then she isn’t using her Persona, and Makoto Yuki (the Messiah himself).

Brief little shout out to Labyrs with Dat Axe though, yeah honestly if it weren’t for anime bullshit I would totally bet that at full charge Labrys’ axe would break Ragna’s sword in two.

Then you got RWBY, specifically the Beacon arc (as that is where the characters are taken from in BBTAG’s tory), with dynamic and fast paced action courtesy of the late Monty Oum (RIP), I honestly keep thinking that most of the RWBY cast (not even the more experienced/powerful ones) could kick Ragna’s ass.

Ragna in CP is said to just use brute force with no technique or skill and falls back on the Azure Grimoire when the going gets tough (regardless of Blazblue’s shitty writing this is what is stated and unless you want to go Au fan-theory on me this is what we’re stuck with). Now from CT and CS we can bet that means that usually Ragna just has above average Ars Magus abilities and relies on power over skill, and when he DOES use the Blazblue it’s against bullshit people like Nu, Hakumen, or Terumi.

Ruby has Speed and Range with her Sniper Scythe, I mean just look at this shit how could anyone get close to her (I guess that’s why they never had any 1v1 fights in the Beacon arc for her, which really fucking sucks)

Weiss could just toss him around like a ragdoll with her Glyphs, although in a straight sword fight Ragna might get an edge due to Weiss seeming to have this problem with not expecting dirty moves (The Arma Gigas and WF Lieutenant grabbing her in their fights, and Vernal not giving her time to summon). But even then Weiss is insanly mobile with her Glyphs.

Blake’s Shadow Semblance and high speed blade work coudl trip him up b/c I doubt he’ll be doing what Roman did against her and Sun in the Vol 1 finale. But looking back at that scene, the tempo does seem like it'd be manageable from what we’ve seen of Ragna.

and Yang, I recall reading somewhere that “only a master/skilled martial artist could battle with one of the Malachite Twins so effectively” or something amongst those lines. Yang charges in a lot too, yes but she has the skill to back it up, and also yes, much like Ragna she also relies on her power a lot as well. But, she shows far more dynamic movements with her Ember Celica recoil, spinnign around the opponent with all those high speed jabs and elbows. Watch some Ragna gameplay and then watch the yellow Trailer and tell me who you think woudl come out on top? Power isn’t everything in a fight.

(could only find good gifs for Blake and Yang, Ruby and Weiss’ either wouldn’t upload or I couldn’t find any that showed scenes that fit my point).

I know Ragna has Soul Eater to drain their auras, but that’s only if he can get in a hit anyways and even then it might just keep him in the fight. Really his best bet is to do massive AoE attacks with all that seithr energy and hopes he hits something.

Yes Ragna does get more skilled later on as character development comes in, but we only get a few animated cutscenes showing him fighting and his gameplay is still the same shit we’ve seen, so it’s kind of a “Tell, don’t show” thing.

Even when looking at the fights in Blazblue Alter Memory, the tempo is NOT the same as the games and that characters don’t show off everything their movesets have to offer (which was one of my personal let downs of that series).

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karnivalkrew · 6 years ago

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Event: Bon Bon Voyage

The party was going great, in Beppi’s opinion. Sure, there were lots of people he didn’t really know, and he reluctantly had turned down any booze that was offered, for Bonnie’s sake, but he was rather enjoying himself. Being with his friends made him feel like he wasn’t being forced to stay in a character.

Of course, the balloon always stayed somewhat close to Bonnie, wanting to make sure she didn’t feel unwelcomed or out of place, but he also did his best to make sure she didn’t feel like he was constantly breathing down her neck.

Yet as time went by, Beppi couldn’t help but notice Bonnie began to enjoy herself less and less. She looked uncomfortable. Like the novelty of the bash was starting to wear off. Bon Bon was feeling as if she’d been spending too much time away from her royal duties. Holiday or not, she was still Baroness, and she had important matters to take care of. The break was certainly nice, but she hadn’t expected this to last so long. Things weren’t getting done with her here, and she was growing anxious about it. Not to mention how her feet were hurting her now...But Beppi seemed so excited to have her here.

Beppi caught her gaze and waltzed up to her with a smile. “You worn out?” Bonnie cracked a small smile of her own, shaking her head slightly as she chuckled. “Is it that obvious?” Beppi placed a firm hand on her shoulder. “C’mon. I’ll walk ya home.” “Oh, no, it’s fine, I can just call a carriage.” She assured. “Nonsense!” Beppi waved. “It ain’t that far, just a short walking dead!” “Ughh. Really?” The groan earned a giggle out of Beppi. Although, Bonnie could tell by the look on Beppi’s face that the offer was genuine. Beppi knew that he and Bonnie never got the chance to talk just between the two of them, so he figured now would be as good a time as any to do so. Besides, everyone was here anyway, so what’s the worse that could happen?

Bonnie nodded and accepted his offer. “Alright. If you’re certain.” “Great! I’ll let Djimmi know.” Bepp turned around, only to find the ex-genie dressed as a mummy, singing karaoke to Mysterious Mose on the stage. Beppi really didn’t want to wait for the end of the song just to tell Djimmi where he was going, and that he’d be back. He made a few hand gestures, but Beppi had the feeling Djimmi didn’t see him. Rats.

A light bulb appeared above Beppi’s head as he got an idea. “Oh!” He snapped his fingers, and a balloon appeared between his middle and pointer fingers. He inflated the balloon, and said something into the end before he tied it shut, pulled out an ink pen from behind his back, and wrote Djimmi’s name on it. Then he tossed it up into the air, and spiked the balloon towards Djimmi. He’d surely get that later when he was done.

Beppi stepped out the door with Bon Bon, his face relaxing just a bit, but a genuine smile still present. “You ready?” “You do know the way back, yes?” “‘Course I do! We ain’t to far from Isle Two. It’s this way,” Beppi motioned, “C’mon!” Bon Bon wobbled on her heels slightly as she followed Beppi off the porch steps, and into the streets. “Slow down, you simpleton! I can’t keep up in these shoes!” “Oh right, heels.” Beppi remembered, stopping to wait for his friend. Surprisingly, Beppi knew Bonnie had never worn heels before, so he was going to go slow out of respect. He’d never worn heels, and considering how painful he’s heard they are, he had no plans of wearing them either. “Did you have fun though?” “Yes! It was quite enjoyable, but I’ve many things to take care of tomorrow...” “That’s understandable.” Beppi shrugged. “I’m just lucky that I have the day off tomorrow.” Beppi glanced over to Bonnie as she walked next to him.

The two continued to converse as they made their way back to the second isle. For once, Beppi seemed rather relaxed to Bonnie. He wasn’t making a stupid pun or a silly joke every other sentence, that was for certain. “This is nice, Beppi. I’m glad you suggested this.”

Beppi however, wrapped an arm around the Baroness and gently pulled her closer to him. “Look slightly down, and be quiet.” Bonnie could hear a serious tone in his voice that sounded completely foreign for him. If something was going to make Beppi, of all people, get serious, then she wasn’t going to question it, so she did as instructed.

Beppi tried to avoid eye contact with the trio of wolves that were walking past them. He didn’t recognize them, no, but with suits like that, they were either flatfoots or gang members. And as far as Beppi knew, any gumshoe would be wearing a trench coat in this weather. Either way, the last thing he wanted to do was draw attention to him and Bonnie. Just act natural. He told himself.

Unfortunately, Beppi didn’t know them, and because of his curse, he had to fight to keep himself from smiling. The more anxious Beppi got, the more he could feel the corners of his mouth twitch and try to force their way to a smile, but the more his mouth tried to smile, the more anxious he got. He was starting to get scared, too, which only caused giggles to begin to bubble up inside him. Dang it, the stupid contract was burned over a year ago, why can’t the effects go away too?!

Luckily, the two passed the three wolves on the street. The feelings washed away, and Beppi heaved a silent sigh of relief.

“Boss, did ya see dat lady with dat ugly joker?” “Yee. She sure looks miiiighty rich.” The middle wolf mused, a smirk holding the cigar between his teeth. “We gonna do somethin’ Boss?!” Another wolf beside him asked. “Of course.” The boss’s smirk grew even wider. “We wouldn’t be The Wolf Gang if we didn’t try and get some dough outta the valuables.” The trio turned around to face the duo behind them that was walking away. “Eddie? Teddy? Give ‘em th’ Bums Rush. Just make sure the little lady gets finds her pretty little self in my possession.” “You got it, Boss!” The two other wolves lowered themselves, and suddenly rushed towards the two unsuspecting carnies.

Beppi was suddenly knocked forward when a wolf tackled him from behind. “Beppi!!” Bon Bon screamed, just before she felt a pair of furry, clawed hands forcefully grab her by the waste. “Ah!” “Good goin’ Eddie!” “Get off!! Unhand me you foul brute!!” She spat, trying to pry herself out of his grip. “Not so fast, toots.” Eddie growled, licking his lips. “Boss thinks you’re worth a pretty penny!” The wolf cackled. Bonnie looked around, trying to find a way out before her eyes locked onto her heels, then onto the wolf’s exposed paws. “I said let! Go!” The Baroness stomped the heel of her foot onto the other’s paw, breaking the chocolate heel instantly. Eddie howled in pain as he let go of Bonnie, and held his foot in pain as he hopped on the ground. “And you!!” Bonnie quickly pulled out her trusty peppermint double-barreled shotgun from behind her back, and twirled it around in her hands. “Get off him!!” She screamed in a low voice as she whacked Teddy off of Beppi with the butt of her weapon. “Beppi, get up!! Are you hurt?!” She asked, pulling her friend off the ground by the hand.

Bonnie was rather off put by Beppi. He was holding his side as if he were hurt, but he was smiling. “Beppi?!” Had he hit his head?! It didn’t seem like he had when Bonnie watched him fall. “Let’s make like a banana, and split!” Beppi suddenly grabbed Bon Bon’s wrist, and began to run, but thanks to the broken shoe, Bonnie tripped, and would have fallen onto the wet ground if Beppi hadn’t have caught her. “Augh! My ankle!!” Beppi placed a hand on Bonnie’s back as he tried to help her stand, his whole body shaking as he started giggling. “Well, I guess it’s pain to see we can’t run!! Ahahahahaha!!” “Why are you making jokes at a time like this?!”

“Wadda we do now, Boss?!” Teddy asked. “Let’s give ‘em the ol’ Bada Bing Bada Boom!” The wolves each pulled out a bomb with a lit fuse, which could just barely be heard burning over Beppi’s laughter. Bon Bon knew there was no way to flee now. Not after twisting her ankle like she just did, so she raised her shotgun and took aim.

One by one, The Wolf Gang threw their bombs at the duo, and Bon Bon managed to shoot swirling cotton candy puffs out that hit the first and second incoming explosives, but as the third one came in too close, Bonnie had to swing her shotgun around like a baseball bat to knock it away. “Beppi, stop laughing and do something!!” “A-aw, come on, Bonnie!! No need to be all gloom and boom all of a sudden!!” “Beppi, now is not the time!!” "Nice heater there, sweet cheeks!” The boss grinned. “Let’s see how ya like mine.” The boss pulled a machine gun out from his back, and began firing rapidly, but the gun was too big for him, so the wolf ended up shooting in every direction. “Shoot!!” Bon Bon backed away, glancing around to try and find some sort of source of cover. “Bang reload!! Ahahahahaha!!” Beppi might have been laughing uncontrollably, but he still did his best to try and pull Bonnie back and out of danger. If only he didn’t have the strength of a party balloon. He’d be able to at least try and carry her to safety.

What the duo hadn’t seen was Eddie sneaking around behind the pair while they were distracted, up until something struck Beppi in the side of the head, launching the balloon away from the Baroness. “Beppi!!”

Beppi groaned as he struggled to get back up, before he started laughing even harder. He had to think of something!! Charlie was back in the carnival, so was Jerry, literally, anything he could use to fight was at the carnival! All he could do was signal his Balloon Dog Brigade, but he was laughing too hard to whistle!

The boss stopped firing his gun and smirked, pulling out his pistol while the lady was distracted. Bonnie was about to fire at Eddie at point blank, but she saw the other pull out the gun in the corner of her eye, and quickly tried to shift her aim, but she was too late. The boss shot his pistol just as she fired, the letters B-A-N-G-! flew out of the pistol’s barrel, and into her shotgun, clogging it up and causing the peppermint to curl up around the sides with an explosion, completely destroying the weapon. “My shotgun!!” The Baroness exclaimed as she dropped her gun.

“Take care a dat clown, Eddie!” The boss ordered. “Makes sure he’s stays a witness!” “Right!” Eddie nodded, pulling out a nice, heavy anvil, and dropped it onto Beppi’s back, trapping him onto the ground.

Beppi laughed even harder now. He struggled and squirmed, and fruitlessly tried to push himself up, but to no avail. “Now then!” The boss marched right up next to the Baroness, and yanked her by the arms. “Yer comin’ with us!!” Bonnie screamed as she squirmed and pushed and tried to get away. “Let go! Let go of me!!”

Beppi raised his head at that. His sides hurt like the dickens, but he just couldn’t stop laughing. Tears began falling from his eyes as he was forced to watch one of his best friends be dragged away by these bums. “H-hehahahelp!! Ahahahahahahahahwahwhahelp!! Heeheeheehehehelp!! Somebody, hahahahahahahaha!! Helpaahahahahahaha!!”

“Eddie! Shut him up!” “Yes, Boss!” Eddie lifted a baseball bat up high in the air, before swinging it down onto Beppi’s head. Beppi felt the bat smack the back of his head, causing his face to slam into the pavement, then bounce back up into the bat again.

Beppi was just barely conscious after that. A few weak, airy chuckles escaped him as he watched the three wolves drag Bonnie away in a hazy vision. “Hahahaha...Bonnie....” As Beppi watched the group get further and further away, laughs slowly turned into sobs, until his smile at last fell. “...Bon...nnh...” Beppi blacked out after that.

Event Start.

#Event: Bon Bon Voyage #Beppi the Clown #Baroness Von Bon Bon #Bada Bing It's the Thing {The Wolf Gang}#Drabble

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lombax-lombardi · 6 years ago

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Promise~

Summary: He made a promise. And he damn well sure was going to keep it. Nothing was going to happen to her while he was here.

Genre: fluff, slight angst, self insert x canon

ship: Joey/Maddi

hey, hey @xeensbin this is the sequel to the other fic I wrote. HNNNNNN

He did make a promise. He was going to keep it damn it.

Joey Wheeler had become something of a bodyguard to her while the custody battle still wages on between her sister and her Aunt. That night woke something in him, it was something akin to him wanting to protect his little sister Serenity.

But on a much deeper scale.

He didn’t really know how deep it did run but he knew it was there.

The past couple of days proved to be something of a test to him, every time Madilyn had to go somewhere he was about four or fives paces behind her, much to the chagrin of Tea.

“Joey you don’t have to keep following us” The other brunette barked as she noticed a tuft of his blonde hair whizz past them, he was in front of them in an instant.

“Tea you don’t get it-”

“No Joey I do get it” she folded her arms across her chest while Madilyn looked between her best female friend and her best guy friend. I really hope this doesn’t end up into a fight, she thought as Tea stared Joey down.

“Joey she will be fine. If anything happens I will give you a call alright?” her tone was calm, as to not derail him from his purpose but to just give her friend the space she needs.

Tea knew how stubborn he could be. Can be. She just didn’t want him to do something stupid over her, which knowing him would be something he would do. She noticed his shoulders slump in defeat.

“...I don’t like dis but if anything happens Tea, make sure to call me”

“Yes yes I will Joey. Now go. Maddi will be fine” She gave him a reassuring smile which seemed to be all he needed. “Alright. Be safe” he pressed a hand on the other brunette’s shoulder, she gave him a quick nod.

She then watched him fade from her vision.

“It’ll be alright Maddi” Tea brought her friends attention back to her, giving her a small smile to calm her nerves. “Trust me”

It seemed a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. “Okay Tea. Let’s get moving then”

The duo spent the Sunday shopping, meeting Mai along the way. The tall blonde was appraised of all that had happened recently, causing her lovely smile to turn into a frown.

“You serious?” she spoke up, taking a sip from her drink she brought. Tea nods. “Yep. According to Maddi, her Aunt, Maribeth, is not one to be trifled with. I am just surprised she hasn’t done anything yet”

Her words evoked a glare from Mai. “Tea, don’t say stuff like that. The poor girl is probably scared outta her mind, honestly she doesn’t need your negative thinking” those words struck a cord in Tea, who sighed. “Yeah....”

She reached over and grabbed Maddi’s hand, who looked up at her with her big brown eyes. “Sorry...”

She shakes her head. “No it’s okay Tea. There is that looming threat but I think I’ll be okay”

That still didn’t sit well with Tea or Mai. Maddi may look like a strong girl, but when the pressure mounts she can easily crack. How she never manages to crack during her Duels is still a mystery to the girls as well as the rest of the group.

The rest of the afternoon was spent in sullen silence as the trio sit and figure things out, when Mai saw something move across from them. Someone in a big dark suit with a newspaper had been watching them for a while.

Mai knew something was up. “Come on girls. Let’s get going” with no further instructions the blonde stood up from her chair, standing right in front of Madilyn, so Tea could see over her. Tea gave Mai a knowing nod as the two of them gently pulled Maddi from her chair, trying to not spook her.

It was a while before Maddi spoke up. “Okay you two what’s going on?”

“I saw someone. Watching us. Watching you” The blonde said coolly as the shorter brunette clinged to Tea more tightly. Tea could feel her friend trembling so she pulled out her phone as they continued to walk.

“Hey Joey...it’s Tea...something’s come up. Get here as quick as you can. Don’t worry Mai’s here with us. Okay, see you soon” the call ended and she put her phone back in her bag.

“Maybe my Aunt is finally trying something...she can’t....” Her anxiety was building again, Tea could sense it. “Hey Maddi it’s going to be okay, I promise”

That seemed to calm her nerves somewhat when Mai stopped. “Hold it...”

“Give us the girl” a voice, no a bunch of voices called out Mai lifted her arm in front of the two younger females. “Like hell I will” Mai was not having any of this today.

She needed to by time for Joey and the others to get here.

“Listen you big suits you aren’t taking her on MY watch understand?” the group of men stepped into the light, Madilyn’s eyes grew wide. These were people hired by her Aunt to take her by any means necessary. She’d seen them before.

“If you don’t give her too us we will just take her from you. Miss Maribeth is none too happy about the custody war, she wants to end things peacefully” That was a bunch of lies.

“No she doesn’t!” Madilyn cried out, Tea’s eyes widened in surprise. “Maddi don’t provoke them. Please.”

“That’s right listen to your friend. Besides Miss Maribeth is paying us to take you home unharmed.” One of the bigger brutes cracked his knuckles, Mai stood tall however. “I am sure this Maribeth knows about Duel Monsters right?”

“Yes?”

“Well I’ll take you on in a Duel. You win against me and my Harpies, I’ll hand her over” Maddi was about to voice an opinion when Mai continued; “If you lose however, you crawl BACK to your Master and tell her to back off!”

It seems Mai’s plan had worked as a Duel commenced. While Mai had the suits distracted, there was a loud THUMP and THWACK! and two of the tall, muscled men fell to the ground.

Their boss was about to move when Mai called him out. “I don’t think so hun, if you leave, you forfeit the duel and you don’t take our friend”

“I’m going to take her regardless. Look” Mai turned her head to see both Maddi and Tea being held by two other guys. “Put me down you coward!” Tea was not having any of this and Maddi?

Well she was scared out of her mind. She was looking into the darkness to figure out what happened to those other two guys when the weight that held her seemed to fall.

“Whoa!” she landed on her rear, turning to see well a familiar face. “Tristan? Why are you here?”

“There’s no time to explain. Tea come on!”

“Right. Good luck Mai!” she called behind her as the blonde smirked. “Looks like it’s you and me hun, unfortunately I have a ride to catch” Dismissing her monsters she jumped on her motorcycle, leaving the rest of the suits behind as her back wheel kicked up gravel in their faces.

“After them! Split up!” the boss called as the rest of his tiny force spread out to find the small group.

The trio stopped in an alleyway, catching their breath. “I called...Joey where is he?” Tea questioned Tristan in between breaths.

“He should...be here soon. Those big lugs never heard me coming.” Tristan had faced thugs in his day before, so he had no problem facing danger. But Maddi was shaking, the only danger she faced was a Duel Monsters game.

Nothing like this.

She lifted her head at the sound of someone approaching, instinct kicked in and she hid behind Tristan. “Ey now what’s with da hidin’?” she peered over her friends shoulder at the sound of the new voice.

“Joey? Joey!” she ran over to him and wrapped her arms around him. He looked down and gave her a small, warm smile. She was safe.

For now.

“Come on we have to keep moving, I saw those freaks headin’ this way. Tristan you go with Tea”

The other male nods, grabbing her wrist and heading off in the other direction. Joey placed a hand against her arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Come on, let’s get ya outta here and someplace safe”

Madilyn didn’t know what this feeling was but she felt safe around him. Like he’d do anything to protect her, then she remembered a few nights ago. They made a promise.

Denied any more thought by the situation, Joey grabbed her hand as they headed out of the alley and into the streets. Usually Domino was a safe place, according to Joey it wasn’t most of the time.

Madilyn was inclined to believe him.

After what seemed like an hour of running , the duo managed to find a place to hide, an old warehouse. Closing the door behind them the sounds of footsteps alerted Joey that they are still looking for them. He pressed himself right up against her.

Right in her personal space, as if to shield her with his own body. Oh Joey.... she thought.

“You don’t have to do this you know Joey....” she muttered, realising just how close he was to her.

“Listen Mads, I made a promise to ya dat day. I never break my promises” the tone of his voice changed, as did the feeling of the whole room. It was...comforting.

Warm.

Safe.

That’s when she realised. She had to tell him. About how she felt. It was now of never. “Joey...” the sound of her voice drew his attention as the sounds of footsteps faded away. He never really noticed how pretty her eyes were until now.

“Yeah?”

“There is something I need to say and I know this isn’t the right time...or place even but..I...” she gripped the fabric of her pants tighter. Her breath was caught in her throat when she looked up at him again. His eyes gleamed with knowing.

They were always warm, really warm and now they have a longing to them?

She felt her cheeks heat up but the way he was looking at her, he wanted her to continue. Let it all out.

“What I have to say is...I..I think I love you...no I don’t think...I know....”

Silence.

More silence.

She thought it was all for naught when she felt herself being pressed against warm fabric. It was one of those hugs, a hug that had so much emotion in them that your heart could almost shatter. Joey sighs, content obviously, pressing his lips against her forehead so gently. “I love ya too...”

It was some time before they felt it safe the head home. He kept an arm around her protectively, always looking behind him to make sure they weren’t followed. “Let’s hope your sister wins. There is no way I’m letting your Aunt take ya away”

“I hope so too” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “Thank you for being there Joey. I wouldn’t know what I would have done if you didn’t show up. I have to say thanks to Mai and Tristan as well”

He felt his heart swell with pride. :I promised I’d protect ya. And I’ll keep that promise for as long as I live. Don’t you worry bout dat” there was that smile.

And she smiled back.

And the long trek home didn’t seem so perilous now that her knight in shining armor had come.

#Maddi writes #asdfghlsgjlljs #i did it #it is probably longer then the last one buT I DID IT #I WROTE IT #ASDHKSDHSKFS #this was to fite the feels #AND A CONFESSION TOO BOOTJLAHDLDAAJDL

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thatothercosplayer · 7 years ago

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“It’s....it’s you!” Hikaru stated in shock. The ship’s occupant walked down the ramp, smoke licking at their heels because this is one of those really dramatic spaceships that has lots of fog machines.

(A bit of a warning- there *is* a scene in here that’s a bit graphic and has wounds that might make some readers uncomfortable. If you don’t want to read it, hit Ctrl + F and enter ‘McFly’ to skip to the section after that.)

------

As soon as she had finished speaking to her parents, they guided her to the capital. There, amongst the many buildings, lay the spaceport (and, by extension, immigration services. How narratively convenient!). After one last goodbye, Hikaru separated from her parents before heading inside.

As the paperwork had been done, all that was left to do was to issue Hikaru her passport; alongside a wrist brace that would act as a translator and disguise to help blend in among Earth’s populace. It was somewhat bulky, but it clamped rather comfortably onto her arm. Looking it over, she noticed that there was a small screen on it that had ‘human’ selected in Standard. Situated next to that was a green, triangular gem.

Tapping it caused her appearance to change in a flash, creating a human form that would suit her personality. She was even wearing clothes to match! It was a lovely dress the same color of her wings (which were hidden in this form, obviously). Twirling in place, Hikaru found she was rather enamored with this device!

Just then, explosions could be heard outside. It was an invasion- the Zangyack Empire had decided to target E5 Raptor, since it was on its way to Earth anyhow.

Gormin began to swarm in, beating down anyone who dared to resist them. They were lead by Sugormin, and those were lead by an Action Commander. It was a creature that resembled a walking chunk of rock; not quite refined to be a distinct golem, but moreso pieces of some unknown mineral that happened to resemble a humanoid, if only barely. “Ha! Stupid birds! I’m gonna pluck ya all one by one! It’ll make a great coat for da boss!”

The creature laughed, and immediately Hikaru felt an anger welling inside her. How dare they attack her home....! How dare they attack her people! Slapping the gem on the wrist brace again, Hikaru ran forwards and lifted off, slamming into one of the Sugormin with her shoulder and landing on it. She made sure to dig her talons into it. The blue beast flailed underneath her before stilling and silencing.

“I’m....I’m warning you! You better leave this planet!” She declared, raising a shaking hand and pointing a lone talon.

“Awww...ain’t dat cute! The little hen thinks she can fight! Alright, light dis place up boys!” The rockman shouted, and the Gormin began to fire indiscriminately into the crowded room. Hikaru threw herself at the rock beast, attempting to rend his stoneflesh with her razor sharp digits, but it was to no avail.

“Hahahaha! Don’t ya know!? I’m made outta Katchin, the densest material in the universe! You don’t have a thing on me!” Slapping his attacker away, the Action Commander stepped forwards, slamming a fist into the ground.

Hikaru landed on her belly, barely managing to scramble out of the way of the invader’s attack. But she wasn’t able to get to her feet fast enough, as she found a rocky foot resting on her back.

“Hoh? Looks like wes got a fine specimen here! Mind if I....” He snatched Hikaru’s wings where they connected to her back, and began yanking.

“N-no! Stop that!” Hikaru yelled, clawing and scratching at the floor.

“Oh, quit yer whinin’, ya birdbrain! Dis’ll only take a second here!” He began to pull more, and the Raptoroid’s wild attempts to escape intensified.

“S-stop! Please! You’re hurting me!” She wailed, voice wavering.

“That’s the point!” He barked at her.

“S-someone! H...help...!” Hikaru begged, already beginning to get choked up as tears flowed down her cheeks. She could barely see straight- the pain was unbearable. Every nerve in her back felt like it was on fire; more and more she couldn’t feel her wings, let alone move them. Was this how it ended? Why wasn’t anyone helping? Was anyone even trying to? She couldn’t tell.

“N...n-no...! Stop! St--” Her pleas died and gave way to screeches of pain as the Action Commander finally stumbled backwards, his prize in hand.

Hikaru’s thoughts became duller and more brief until, finally, her vision went completely black, and she slumped to the floor.

Hikaru slowly opened her eyes. All the chaos and din from earlier had seemed to go quiet. Only the flickering flames and occasional settling rubble could be heard.

She attempted to push herself up, but quickly dropped back down as pain engulfed her. Even just breathing hurt. “I don’t want to die,” she sobbed. “I don’t want to die....!”

The Raptoroid didn’t know how long she lay there- her vision faded in and out with her consciousness. But...eventually......

“I found one! Over here!”

“Is she still alive? Those wounds look fatal.”

“She’s breathing, help me get her on the stretcher!”

----

The former Action Commander waved in her face. “Hello! Ya there? McFly? Hello? McFly?”

Hikaru shook her head, and immediately slapped him. This made him stumble backwards, raising a hand to his cheek. Feeling at it with his stubby, rocky, fingers, he stomped. “You....you cut me!”

“Damn right I did!” Hikaru yelled. “Do you even remember who I am?!”

“Look, lady, I’ve been all over the galaxy. Youse could be any one of a buncha palookas I done steamrolled, alright?” Popping his neck a bit, he paused. “Why don’t ya refresh me, eh?”

“I am Hikaru, of the planet E5 Raptor in the Aquila System! You invaded my home and tore off my wings right when I was about to leave for Earth!” She raised a shaking fist, barely containing her anger. All these years....all these years....! “I never had a name to hate. I only knew your face. I would never forget such a horrid being- ever!”

He let out a big, hearty laugh. “Oh! You’re that broad! You was so cute, flailin’ about like a chicken with it’s head cut off!” And just as quickly as he started, he stopped. “Well, my name’s Crush. Youse gonna remember that. ‘course, you, ah, ain’t gonna live much longer ‘cause you chipped my perfect visage.”

“Crush?” Hikaru asked. “That’s your name?”

“Yeah. Can you fit that into your birdbr--”

“WELL, THEN I’M GOING TO CRUSH YOU!” Hikaru screamed as she lunged for the brute.

“W-what!?” Crush barely had time to react as Hikaru flew at him at blistering speeds, slamming him into the side of his ship. “H-how!? Youse Raptor guys ain’t stupposed to be this fast!”

She hissed, digging her claws into his shoulders. “Maybe so.....but on Earth, I’m eight times faster....and eight.....times....STRONGER!” Hikaru reared back and headbutt Crush, right on the forehead. She made sure to dig her talons into his skin, too, dragging them down her chest. “I’m not running away! I’m going to pay you back for how much you hurt me!”

Releasing, Hikaru flew upwards a bit, doing a quick shuttle loop before realigning herself and extending an leg outwards. “GOLD COMET KICK!” She cried out, her right foot smashing into Crush’s chest right as he pulled himself out of the giant dent he’d made in the side of his ship. The sheer force of the blow tossed him not only right back into it, but through it and out the other side.

Swooping over the ship, Hikaru circled around Crush while she decided her next course of action. “Now, lady, see, uh, I can explain! I was jus’, uh, workin’ with those Zangyack guys! Y’know? ‘cause, they uh, they were payin’ well, and, uh, I ain’t sayin’ no to a good paycheck--”

Hikaru zipped downwards, grabbing Crush by the neck and driving him into the ground, dragging him across the park at high speed. “I don’t care what your excuse is,” she growled, pressing downwards and forcing him more into the ground. She pulled upwards, making sure to smack Crush on the ground once before tossing him away.

Crush pushed himself up, watching her fly above him. “N-now, Miss Hikaru, surely we can come to some kinda agreement here--”

Feeling a blast of air move past him, Crush looked down to notice three giant slashes across his chest. “Uh oh,” he let out as another pass happened, this time hitting his face. This occurred several more times, each time increasing in speed.

“I-” Three giant gashes across Crush’s back.

“Won’t-” Three massive talonmarks across Crush’s shoulders.

“COMPROMISE!” Hikaru yelled as she made one last pass. She then folded her wings and landed so hard that she kicked up bits of turf and clouds of dust. She did...she did the superhero landing. You know? The superhero landing.

Unfolding her wings dramatically, Hikaru stood, looking up at Crush. The sun filtered through the haze, causing her to shine. “I was haunted by nightmares of your little game for years,” she spat, taking a step forwards. “There were nights where I couldn’t sleep for fear of reliving what you did to me.” Another step.

Crush began to take a step backwards for every step the Raptoroid made forwards.

“You didn’t even think twice about what you did. You never woke up in a cold sweat, screaming at the top of your lungs because you thought you were going to die,” Hikaru glowered.

She thrust an arm out and grabbed his neck again. Crush reached up to his neck, gasping for air. How!? How was someone damaging his skin!? He was supposed to be unbreakable!

“Well, I’ll make a deal with you, Crush,” The Raptoroid let out. “If you manage to survive our encounter today....then, when you understand the pain I went through...” She bowed her head slightly, shadows growing on her face. “Maybe then you’ll remember me.”

Still gripping Crush’s neck tightly, she beat her wings and flew upwards, ascending rapidly before letting him go. She watched him drop, before dipping forwards into a nosedive and and kicking him as she flew past. Pulling a quick English bunt, she came up from underneath and punched upwards, stopping Crush in midair with her fist. There was a loud SNAP as his back crumbled a bit (she’d caught him in the middle of the spine).

Honestly, if you’ve ever seen a single episode of Dragon Ball Z, you know exactly what’s going on here. It’s just that, instead of warping to wherever and hitting Crush, Hikaru was flying over there faster than he was being tossed.

Finally, she ended it with one big downwards spike. She hung in the air for a moment, before scowling. This wasn’t enough.

She rolled her shoulders, before taking a deep breath.

Once again, she angled herself downwards, extending a leg in a kick....but this time, she also wrapped her wings around herself, creating a giant drill.

Crush slammed into his ship, and Hikaru cut right through the eruption of debris, the drill carving right through her nemesis.

A massive explosion occurred, engulfing both of them.....only for her to triumphantly soar upwards, freeing herself from the fire and the flames and carrying on (HAH).

He was dead

As he should have been a long time ago.

#Hikaru #plot point

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secureshark6441-blog · 5 years ago

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SA | Mr Robot Episodes 1 to 3 Analysis

EPS1.0_HELLOFRIEND.MOV

Plot Summary

Elliot Alderson works as a cybersecurity engineer at AllSafe, a firm that specialises in protecting large cooperations like Evil Corp from cyber attacks. Evil Corp has recently been under a string of attacks and a meeting is called to understand what occurred.

Later, he gets a call from Angela Moss, his childhood friend, to go to the office as there appears to be a DDoS attack against Evil Corp. Upon arrival, he finds that the servers are infected and that the only way to fix it is to shut down all the servers, clear the infection, and restore from backup.

While inspecting the infected server, Elliot finds a fsociety00.dat file and a readme.txt file containing instructions “LEAVE ME HERE”.

After returning from the server farm, Elliot gets on a tram where he meets a mysterious man who tells Elliot to follow him but only if he didn't delete the files. Elliot follows the man to Coney Island, the base of operations for the hacker group fsociety, who's plan is to destroy Evil Corp's databases so that they can erase most of the world's consumer debt.

Elliot is asked by Mr. Robot to replace fsociety’s IP address in the .dat file with the IP address of Terry Colby, the head of technology at Evil Corp to frame him for the earlier attack.

Back at AllSafe, a meeting has once again be called by the executives from Evil corp and by the FBI. Elliot has prepared 2 files, one which the .dat file contains Colby’s IP and one which contains fsociety’s IP. Initially he planned on presenting the one with fsociety, but after Angela was blamed for the attacks, he changes his mind and gives the FBI the file that frames Colby.

After 19 days of silence. The media and news outlets finally reveal the findings, thus Colby is successfully framed. In the mist of this chaos, Elliot is whisked away to Evil Corp’s headquarters where he is greeted by Tyrell Wellick.

A side story in the episode are Elliot’s attempts to hack those that surround him or those that pip his interest. A more prominent one would be his psychiatrist, Krista, and her “significant other”, Michael. Elliot’s efforts revealed his real identity and the truth of their relationship. He then confronts Michael Lenny and uses blackmail to ensure that Lenny will break up with Krista and tell her the entire truth.

This is inline with his self proclaimed title as a vigilante.

Software Security Elements

The opening sequence is Elliot confronting a child pornographer with information he gathered from hacking his computer. Elliot explains his original motive in hacking the man as well as how he did it.

I started intercepting all the traffic on your network. Thats when I noticed something strange. So I decided to hack you.

There are many ways Elliot is able to monitor and intercept a network’s traffic. As it wasn't specified in the episode exactly if he was able to connect as a local network or wirelessly I have included possible methods for both below.

Using a Legacy Hub

These are placed at a choke-point of a network and are able to repeat all Ethernet frames arriving at one port to all the other ports on the hub.

A downside to this method is that all the extra packets sent from all the ports increase the risk of packet collisions. When this occurs, the nodes on the shared media segment will pause for a random amount of time before they resume sharing data.

This method is most likely not the method Elliot used in the episode.

Network Switch Port Monitoring

Also known as Switched Port Analyzer (SPAN) ports or port mirroring, a monitor port is typically configured so that it mirrors all packets that pass through the designated ports. It is used on a network switch to send a copy of any frame sent or received from a particular port to a monitor port.

The downside of this method is that there is a risk of not always getting all the transmitted packets to the monitor port. This is because the primary function of a switch is to forward traffic from the sender to the receiver. As such, if there is a high load on the switch, it will prioritise sending the received frames instead of copying them to the monitor port.

This method is also most likely not the method Elliot used in the episode.

Using a Network Terminal Access Point (Network TAP)

A network tap is a “bump-in-the-wire” device, often placed between 2 nodes in a network, that is designed to copy traffic passing through it to a monitor port. This is a much more reliable way than using a monitor port as taps are less likely to drop packets during high traffic load.

The downside to this method is that it can interrupt network traffic while connecting and disconnecting the tap. They are also often expensive due to the extra hardware required.

This method is also most likely not the method Elliot used in the episode.

Address Resolution Protocol (ARP) Poisoning

ARP poisoning is a technique where two hosts on a network are tricked into sending packets destined for each other to a sniffer machine on the network. This is done by associating the attacker’s MAC address with the IP address of another host, resulting in any traffic to the IP address is sent to the attacker instead. This method is often used as an opening for other attacks such as man-in-the-middle attack.

Man-In-The-Middle (MITM) Attack

An attack where the attacker inserts themselves into a conversation between 2 parties pretends to be the the them. The attacker is then able to access and possibly alter any communications or information sent between the 2 parties.

This type of attack is easy to achieve as an attacker within reception range of a wireless access point could insert themselves as a MITM.

The weakness of this method is that the MITM attack can succeed only when the attacker is able to impersonate each endpoint without raising the other party’s suspicion.

Domain Name System (DNS) Hijacking

DNS hijacking is a process in which an attacker redirects queries to a DNS server. There are many methods to perform this attack including, installing malware on the target’s computer, compromising a router through a default password, or intercepting and hacking DNS communications.

You're using Tor networking to keep the servers anonymous. You made it really hard for anyone to see it but I saw it. The onion routing protocol, it’s not as anonymous as you think it is. Whoever’s in control of the exit nodes is also in control of the traffic, which makes me ... the one in control.

The Onion Router (TOR) Network

It was created initially as a worldwide network of servers developed with the US Navy that enabled people to browse the internet anonymously. It disguises the user’s identity by moving and encrypting their traffic across different TOR servers so that it cannot be traced back to the user.

TOR is useful for people who wants to keep their internet activities private from internet service providers and / or websites. It can also be used to host websites that are only accessible by other TOR users, which is what the perpetrator in Mr. Robot was using to distribute the photographs.

In a TOR network, data comes in and is encrypted all the way through to the exit node. These exit nodes are the gateways where the TOR traffic hits the Internet. As such these nodes can be used to monitor TOR traffic after it leaves the network. Although TOR is decided so that locating the source of the traffic through the network should be near impossible, if the exit traffic is unencrypted and contains identifying information, then it can be traced back to the user. This the exploit Elliot used within the episode to find out the activities of the perpetrator.

This is a “rudy” attack

R. U. Dead Yet (RUDY) Attack

A RUDY attack is a slow rate HTTP denial of service attack tool that aims to keep a web server tied up by submitting form data at an absurdly slow pace. Any web service that accepts form input is vulnerable to a R.U.D.Y. attack as the tool works by sniffing out form fields and exploiting the form submission process.

The tool submits very long form friends are submitted and this process is dragged out by breaking it down into packets as small as 1 byte each. It then sends these packets to the server at randomised intervals of around 10 seconds each. The web server will keep the connection open to accept the packets as the behaviour of the attack is similar to that of a user with a slow connection speed submitting form data. This results in the victim’s web server becoming unavailable to legitimate traffic.

Hacking her was simple, her password Dylan_2791. Favourite artist and the year when she was born backwards.

Although the tool Elliot used here, elpscrack, is fictional, it does contain functionalities that are found in other tools such as CeWL, Burp Suite, and others.

Custom Word List (CeWL) Generator

CeWL is a ruby app which when a given url, it will “crawl” the specified site as well as any external links found on the site to a specified depth. It then returns a list of words from that site that you can filter to include only words of specific length.

This information is useful when targeting a specific individual as people tend to publicly like or follow things with their social media. More often than not, people will use something they like to form a basis for their passwords, as such, the list created by CeWL can be hashed and then given to a password cracker to potentially crack a person’s password.

This is probably the closest to the elpscrk tool that Elliot used.

Burp Suite

Burp Suite is a Java based web penetration testing framework that is useful in identifying vulnerabilities and verify attack vectors that re affecting web applications. It can also be used to brute force a web application log in page.

Burp is designed to be used alongside your browser and functions as an HTTP proxy server where all the HTTP/S traffic from the browser passes through Burp.

Burp requires a list of usernames and a list of passwords in order to brute force a log in page. Manually submit a log in request using any random username and password and Burp capture HTTP request. Then using the cluster bomb attack method, Burp will brute force the log in page using the given lists.

References

NETRESEC: Intercepting Network Traffic

Geeks for Geeks: Carrier sense multiple access (CSMA)

Wikipedia: Packet Analyzer

Cable Solutions: Port Mirroring vs Network TAP

Netwrix: Top 10 Most Common Types of Cyber Attacks

NS1: The Anatomy of a DNS Hijacking

Life Hacker: What is TOR

Hacker Target: Exit Nodes

Radware: RUDY Attack

Cloudflare: R U Dead Yet?

Imperva: RUDY

Digi Ninja: CeWL

Stuff Jason Does: CeWL

Pentest Geek: Burp Suite

Alpine Security: Brute Force using Burp

EPS1.1_ONES-AND-ZER0S.MPEG

Plot Summary

SIDE NOTE:

I am not particularly knowledgeable in the technical aspects of security engineering, networks, or hacking so I may have gotten some details incorrect. The information in these notes are mainly from my research on the topics and techniques found on the internet.

#SA

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skullreaped · 3 years ago

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✘ pixieacoco

If Coco could she would turn back now and beg Neku to choose anyone else to help. She’d even take working with one of those damn angels over this. But the gate between the inverted Shinjuku to the Realground had already closed by now and who knew when it would open again. Not to mention Neku was very insistent she inform Beat of the situation, that somehow he’d be able to help. How he was supposed to help went completely over Coco’s head. All she thought of him was that he was a pesky ruiner of plans who made things WAY more difficult then necessary. The fact that he was now a Reaper only further made her dislike him further. As now she’d never be rid of his mug! If she hadn’t given her word to Neku that she’d get Beat’s help, she’d be happy to leave Beat chasing his own tail. At least until the gate opened again so Neku could escape and help save Tsugumi. However Coco had given her word and for her, her word was law.

The shove is enough to make her stumble which only further enrages her. Who did he think he was that he could just shove a cute little girl like her around? Talk about a bully! For a moment she wonders how disappointed Neku would be if she got into an actual fight with Beat. The answer she came to is he would most likely be very disappointed. Which is good enough reason to keep her from straight up tackling Beat. Instead she storms forward grabbing the back of his jacket in an attempt to get him to stop moving away from her.

“No! I mean yes! I mean-! Fuck off!” Kind of hard for him to do that with her holding his jacket. She starts digging her heels into the concrete roofing in an attempt to force him to stop. “Look, just listen! I wouldn’t be wasting my time with a big dumb brute like you if it wasn’t for like the most important thing in the universe! Or do you just not care about saving your friends?!” A cheap, desperate, attempt for his attention certainly. But if it makes him stop long enough to listen that’s all she cares about.

The tug on the back of his hoodie pulls the hood from his head and has him pausing in his steps, if only to try and swat her hands off of him behind his back. ( ❛ Leggo, yo! ❜ ) He tries to keep moving until she digs in her heels, literally and figuratively with the direct jab at his soft heart — at which point he slides his arms out of the sweater, wings passing through the fabric like they aren’t even there, allowing gravity to do what it does best. Beat turns to her, reaching down and snatching the sweater back out of her hands. ( ❛ Gimme dat. ❜ )

His friends. Neku and his sister. The entire reason he’s back in this damn Game to begin with. There’s always a chance she’s lying. And, hell, it’s a pretty damn high chance if their last encounter is anything to go off of. ( An entire fake city filled with fake people; a gunshot echoes in his memory. ) ... But a small, hopeful voice in the back of his mind also nags at him: what if she isn’t? He sighs and tugs his mask off.

❛ You got two minutes, Pixie Chick. Then I walk. ❜ Sweater draped over one, he crosses bare arms over his chest. ❛ Start talkin’. ❜

#pixieacoco #・ 𝖨𝖢 ¸ 𝘼𝙇𝙇 × ready for a 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘵down? ┊ ☠#・ 𝖨𝖢 ¸ 𝖥𝖱𝖤𝖤𝙎𝙏𝙔𝙇𝙀 × 𝙒𝙄𝙋𝙀𝙊𝙐𝙏 ¸ reaper ┊ ☠#・ 𝖨𝖢 ¸ 𝙏𝙃𝙍𝙀𝘼𝘿 × pixieacoco : coco ¸ 001 ┊ ☠#breaking news: local bully intentionally lets go of sweater in sweater tug of war just to watch tiny gremlin fall #more tonight at 10

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korkrunchcereal · 7 years ago

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The Bane of Man, Part Two

Aurelian groaned, slowly rising up. He was not dead at least, though winced as he rotated his arm. The armor had stopped the blow, though the force of it still bruised and damaged the flesh underneath. His hand fumbled, grabbing his sword which flew from his hands. Daranir had continued without him, leaving the elven lord on foot. Aurelian tested his grip; his arm was sore, though he could still fight with both hands. Now grounded he took off, to the shock of red hair that towered over the elves.

As he moved forward, the carnage caused by the warlord was clear. Bodies lay scattered everywhere, hacked and torn to pieces by wicked blows. The trolls had pressed in with the advantage, Aurelian carving his way through them, single minded. This could end with the leader's death, and he had to end it. The elves he had begun to realize would not hold forever. He nearly tripped over several bodies, the mangled corpses proving as hazardous as the blood upon the ground.

The fighting began to give way to a small opening, and it was here he found the Warlord. The troll was massive, muscles taunt and painted scarlet in the blood of the fallen. Of Serigal there was no sight once again, though perhaps that was a blessing. Bal-Varos, however, was another manner. The elven lord was likened often to a bear, for he was a large and burly man adorned in fur trimmed plate. Yet even the great bear struggled. The trolls had backed off, letting their leader get what was believed a kill. Judging from the blows raining down on Bal-Varos by the warlord and the state of the elven lord, they believed correctly.

"Now, you die elfy. Just like Wyrmstorm." Bal-Varos swung with a great, exhausted swing, only for the warlord to knock the blow away. Aurelian shot forward as the troll raised both axes, intent on murdering Bal-Varos. As the axes descended down, they found not the flesh of an elven lord, but the enchanted steel of a sword. Despite Aurelian's size and strength, he was nearly knocked forward by the power behind the blow. It was enough however, and the blows missed.

"Your battle is with me, Taka." Aurelian swung at the troll, intent on distracting to let Bal-Varos escape. The man was more wounded then Aurelian thought, a great gash above his right eye along with several other blows on his armor. The speed of the sword blows were matched by the axes of the troll, though his plan worked. Several of the spearmen were able to drag back Bal-Varos, leaving Aurelian alone to fight the warlord.

"Good; I was wonderin' where you ran off ta. Here I was tinkin' maybe de great Indaris had ran off!"

"You can stop pretending, demon. I know who you really are."

"oh, I know ya do. But 'chu know what? Dat knowledge gonna die witcha and every otha' elf here. Did ju really be tinkin I didn't know what chu were up to?" Taka flashed a wicked grin, revealing an impossible amount of teeth. "Hopefully you fight and die betta' den da last elf lord did." He brought an axe to tap at a pair of withered hands that had been tied to his waist, and Aurelian grimly recognized the ring on one of them; it was the signet ring of Wyrmstorm.

"You didn't do your research, demon. I was always the better duelist when we fought." The troll cackled, raising his axes upward.

"Good!" Without warning the troll leaped forward, bringing both axes to bear. The ringing of steel echoed out as Aurelian's runeblade met the troll's axes, his retaliation a quick thrust to the gut. Despite the troll's size he was quick, matching Aurelian's blade. It was a pattern that continued, as the two struck out at one another. Taka held his grin as he fought, despite being unable to land a telling blow. Aurelian however was doing all that he could to stay alive; the troll had the strength of its illusion, with all the speed and guile of its true, demonic form.

The clashing of steel continued, a whirlwind of blows that were both blocked and countered. Aurelian was using every technique he knew and had been taught. He recognized immediately the flair he fought duels with would not work here. Amongst mortals they distracted, but this creature was beyond such trivial things. Aurelian's sped and brute force was met blow for blow. Time went by, and it was time that was proving to be Aurelian's weakness. Aurelian could already feel fatigue setting in, quickened by the hammering blows that reverberated up into his wounded arm. Taka however seemed as fresh and ready as the start of the battle.

"Getting tired, little elfy?"

"Hardly." Aurelian charged forward, swinging wide. At the last moment he paused, wincing in pain as he pivoted around, ducking under the return blow of Taka. His sword sailed through the air, aimed at the troll's thick leg. Rather than cutting through it, the blade all but bounced off the flesh, leaving only a small slice. Baffled, Aurelian took a step back.

"Oh, did no one tell you? I put an enchantment on me; makes me impervious ta mortal weapons. Your runeblade be powaful enough to cut me, and perhaps even kill me. But you'll be dead long before dat happens."

"We'll see about that." Aurelian's bravado would only last so long. The blow had weakened his arm even more, and bought little results. If he could not land a telling blow and soon, he would be too weak to defend himself against the ferocious warlord. He was breathing heavily, though calmed himself with a deep breath. He had an idea then. Slowly he muttered a soft prayer, the length of his sword blazing with holy light.

"Ha! You tink dat's gonna save ya! It time to die elf." Taka once more leapt forward, swinging with horrific force. Aurelian did not parry the blow, instead sidestepping the blow. One axe sailed through the air. The other, however, found purchase in the plating of his shoulder. Despite its enchanted resilience it all but crumbled, nearly biting into the flesh underneath. Aurelian did not seem worried, instead thrusting upwards. The blade found little purchase in the troll, yet the light Aurelian had brought forth shot into the troll like a spear tip, piercing its hide. Taka roared as he stepped back, wrenching out his axe and snarling in pain.

"Looks like it worked." Aurelian winced as he rolled his shoulder. The plating was ruined of that he was certain, just as he was certain that he would not be able to get another blow in like that. He had the element of surprise the first time, and now that the demon knew he would prepare. Aurelian shot a glance to where the light had hit, seeing cracking as if the skin was porcelain.

"How dare you." For a moment the voice had changed to something far more horrifying; an ageless being who had walked the cosmos before the coming of elves.

"What's wrong demon?" Aurelian made a tsk sound, pointing his sword to the wound. "That doesn't look good." The troll snarled, shooting forward far quicker than Aurelian had expected. Shadows seemed to trail behind Taka now, as if taking a half second longer than they should to fade. Aurelian could barely bring up his sword in time to parry, the reverberation from the blow nearly knocking Dal'endal from his grip.

Now the tables had been turned, and it took Aurelian everything he had to hold his own. A flurry of blows rained down on the elven lord, some finding purchase and biting into his armor. Aurelian stopped the lethal blows, but that was all he could do. Taka sensed this, putting up the pressure. It seemed the very shadows turned against Aurelian, for they stabbed and clawed just as much as the axes hacked and carved.

"Enough of this!" Taka roared, slamming all his considerable weight against Aurelian. The lord was sent sprawling back into the grass, helm nearly falling off. The troll stalked forward, swinging his axes. The blow never made contact, caught upon a stygian born sword that cackled, a grin forming along its blade. Both troll and elf followed the length of the steel to its wielder, her face alight with fury.

"Away from him, demon." Gardesia spat out. Taka turned and swung at the woman, only to have the blow matched in strength. Where Aurelian was strong, Gardesia was stronger for she was reborn with unholy vigor and might. Indeed, Gardesia pushed back the troll, before grabbing Aurelian by the hem of his cloak and helping him up. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine; what are you doing here."

"The left flank was all but overrun; our cavalry is holding them back, but it won't last long. I fought my way over to warn you. We can't hold out for much longer."

"Then we need to kill this bastard, here and now." Both watched as Taka regained himself, snarling.

"Easier said than done; any ideas?"

"Our weapons can barely hit him; he has a powerful spell to ward away our blows. My light magic seems to pierce it however. Problem is, my arm's a bit sore and so I can't hold him back while I prepare."

"Leave that to me." Gardesia charged forward, the ebon clad woman smashing into Taka. Aurelian took a breath, coughing. By the light he was tired, his eyes looking around him. It was nothing but crimson painted over corpses, and the sea of trolls. Had he been too overconfident in killing this beast? Aurelian shook his head, hand weaving a spell across his sword. A grunt broke his concentration, the man looking up to find Gardesia pushed back into him. He braced himself, catching her while taking a step back.

"Now working too well?"

"Shut up." Gardesia muttered, pushing herself off. Taka was already upon the two of them, axes whirling to slice into them both. Now this contest had become a blur of motion as ebon steel smashed against wicked iron, while glittering steel parried away axe head and muscle. The two children of Indaris were proving to hold their own; where Gardesia struck for the head, Aurelian sliced at the bottom, the two working in tandem. Taka however did not give any ground, nor did he allow Aurelian to bless his weapon. Both elves pushed themselves away, giving a moment to breath.

"Foolish elves." His voice had changed fully now to that dark and malevolent tone from before, teeth gnashing the air. "Your army is soon to shatter, and with it the heart of this wretched land will be open."

"You'll be banished back to the hell that spat you out before that ever happens, demon." Aurelian's hands were loose on the hilt of his sword as he spoke, tapping along the leather wrap.

"And do you expect to stop me, son of Indaris? You, who’s foolish pride caused all of this; the sins of your hubris have led us to this moment. In your arrogance you believe yourself master of your own fate, when you are a mere pawn in the grand design of eons. Before your people conquered fire, I had conquered the stars. You are as insignificant as a speck of dust before a hurricane."

"You may have conquered the stars, but you have not conquered this land."

"Ah, you are correct of course; that is a problem I intend to rectify immediately." Taka stood poised to leap forward, when a new sound boomed in the distance. It was not the booming of drums or the clash of battle. Nay, it was warhorns, so familiar in their wail. Voices rose up from the troll line, carrying over quickly. Taka turned, peering onto the horizon.

"Aurelian listen; warhorns from...Silvermoon?"

"Silvermoon?!" Aurelian grimaced, trying to peer over the line of trolls. There in the distance, the tips of scarlet and gold that announced the arrival of a third army. Silvermoon had ridden forth in defense of the Gilded Lands. There was something else as well in the sky; a dark figure that was speeding forward like a thunderbolt. At once Taka began barking orders, a large portion of the trolls breaking off to stop the charge of the elves. Aurelian could only guess their number based upon the banners; some several hundred in total, rapidly approaching.

"This changes nothing. You both will still die!" Taka charged forward once more, breaking the stalemate that had arisen. The sound of hooves against the dirt grew louder now, as did the horns. They heard the crash of the charge; of horses and elves slamming into the trolls. Like the hammer of a god they began to smash their way through. Of this Aurelian could only hear, for he focused more upon surviving the new onslaught of blows. His eyes however darted behind the troll, and he pushed himself back.

"Gardesia, back!" The troll followed Aurelian's gaze, snarling at the darkened figure. Taka threw his axes to the ground, moving to leap up at the rapidly approaching figure. He never got the chance to, for like an abyssal comet the figure smashed into the troll. Dark smoke circled around the two, a great ripping sound escaping the thick shadows that enveloped the troll. Peering into it, Aurelian could vaguely make out large, tattered wings, sharpened talons and monstrous, scaled arms. The figure emerged from the smoke, flipping forward. Whatever wings and other such horrifying features had faded already, for in the monster's place was a man, twin horns jutting from his brow. In one hand he held the head of Taka, its face caught in a mixture of fury and surprise. The surrounding trolls fled from the sight, their will and morale broken.

"Hello cousins." Vaeldris, the former lord of Dawngrasp had arrived. Aurelian had lost the man when he had travelled to the Broken Shore and bothered not to search. Either Vaeldris had been killed or he was off killing all manner of demons in gruesome fashion, as was befitting a demon hunter. It would appear at least the former did not come true, somewhat to Aurelian’s chagrin.

"Vaeldris? What on Azeroth are you doing here."

"Please, don't insult me. Did you think I did not sense the darkness that had taken hold of this land? Of the machinations and plots this particular demon weaved? While you were off playing games on the isles, I have been investigating the rumored demons in these lands. It appears the rumors were true." His ears perked, the demon hunter turning towards the corpse of the troll. Bits of shadow seeped out, a stream of it escaping from the oozing neck. "Hmm." Shrugging, Vaeldris tossed the head before the feet of Aurelian as he turned back around. Aurelian curled his lip in disgust, the troll's grisly features staring forward.

"Charming. Then what the hell is Silvermoon doing here?"

"Not sure, though I imagine it's to save your hides. I merely joined up with them whilst they were marching through Blackfyre's lands. We cleaned up the mess in Ebonwood before following their warband here. Unfortunately, their leader at Thornbane escaped."

"So you did not tell them about this battle?" Vaeldris raised a brow at that, before giving an unfriendly smile.

"No, I did not. Were they not part of your plan? Or did you really expect to fight an entire army with a mere three houses…well, two and a half." Aurelian did not respond, and that was answer enough. "No matter. They are here now, though I imagine they'll still need some help cleaning up what remains of the trolls. After that, I am sure they will want to speak to the 'Lord' of the Gilded Lands."

“Speak, on what?”

“Why, this of course. I’m sure they will want an explanation for these blunders.” Vaeldris gave a wink at Aurelian, who stood near shaking with rage as Vaeldris charged into the ranks of the fleeing trolls.

"Well, I’d rather accept help from a snake before that man, but he saved us; him and the rest of Silvermoon. Aurelian? What's wrong?" The man was silent, gaze set beyond the woman. She turned to see what he was looking at, making a noise of understanding. Picking their way through the corpses were three horseman, weapons as bloody as their steeds. The first figure was adorned in battered golden plates, so familiar to Aurelian that he gasped in surprise, anger fading for but a moment.

"Cyvar?!" The elf removed his helm, grinning as a scarred face stared at Aurelian.

"My Lord." He dismounted, moving to approach Aurelian. The other two figures Aurelian did not recognize. One was adorned in crimson and white robes, golden plates giving an intimidating appearance. A featureless crested helm rested upon the man's head, a gorget wrapped around his throat. In one hand he held a large polearm, it's axe head dripping still with black blood. The last figure was the strangest of the three; whirring gears chimed in a clock like nature, while hissing steam escaped vents in what appeared to be armor similar to that of constructs. The man's face was hardened lines and a stern visage, a blue glow emanating from the collar plate around his neck. His ebon hair had been tied up into a long top knot, leaving his scalp bald except for the center as it led upwards.

"I am glad to see you're alive; I was told you were dead."

"Reports of my death were exaggerated, but only just. I was ambushed on the road and only survived thanks to some farmers finding me. Before I had recovered enough to ride, the land was swarming with trolls. I was stuck defending the farmhouse until help arrived. I am far more pleased to see you, my lord."

"Yes, you say help; who the hell are these two?" Aurelian muttered. Before Cyvar could answer, the ebon haired rider spoke.

"Lord Indaris." The helmet-less elf began, refusing to dismount. "I am Magister Balasar Craw, head of the Arcanetic League. With me is Veridan Koss, an enforcer of Silvermoon." The man waved a skeletal thin hand towards the armored figure to his right, who made no action in acknowledgement.

"Magister, enforcer." Aurelian gave a short bow to the two, before speaking. "You both have my thanks, and for the aid of Silvermoon. I must confess I did not know you would be arriving."

"The Council of Silvermoon heard the hosts of the Gilded Lands were marching to war; we did not expect this."

"Battle is a brutal business, magister."

"Not that; battle is clashing steel and spilling blood; there is no refine nature to it, and so it is an ugly waste. No, I speak of this situation. Did you know that when we arrived to Ebonwood, the land was overrun with trolls, and that it took us a good two days to drive them from the walls of Thornbane Hold? You know what the garrison commander told us? She stated that it was a sorcerer from your house that caused this, and your negligence aided him...an accusation backed up by the guards and various nobles still alive in the hold." Aurelian blinked, not quite expecting so harsh of accusations.

"Surely you are mistaken; I had never neglected to send aid when it was needed, as can be seen here. I was away on the Broken Shore when the unfortunate events that led to Lord Wyrmstorm's death occurred."

"Orchestrated by a sorcerer of your house."

"A demon, actually."

"Demon or not, they wore your colors. It is your failing that his ruse was not found out, and so the people of Ebonwood paid the price. Yet not only did this occur, but another lord of these lands was supposedly murdered in cold blood, this time by someone under your protection whom I notice is nowhere in sight." How the hell did Silvermoon find all this out so quickly? Perhaps more importantly, who told them. "As the most powerful house of the Gilded Lands, it is your family's responsibility to defend these lands and uphold the interests of Quel'thalas."

"Which is why I marched out to stop this threat, and afterwards I intended to deal with our internal problems such as that of Lord Illova’s murder." Gardesia shifted uneasily at the word choice; it had been self-defense, or so she was told.

"And you would have died were it not for Silvermoon's aid. The council of Silvermoon has...respected the wishes of those within the Gilded Lands to maintain their own affairs, yet the events that have occurred over the past several months cast doubt onto the stability of this realm. Tell me, where is your brother?" Aurelian had a feeling the man knew the answer already.

"A victim of the demons." He stated, voice lowering in anger. He did not break Balasar's stare, face etched in a frown.

"I see. I need not speak further, for the dead men that surround you are accusation enough of your pride, Aurelian. When all of this is settled, Silvermoon will have answers. Let us go Veridan. We must finish cleaning up this mess.

“One of their leaders escaped while we cut through the flank." The armored figure finally spoke, voice hoarse and gravelly. “Goddamn witch I think it was. Might be able to catch her if we move fast.” The two horsemen pulled away as they spoke, leaving Aurelian to fume in his anger. Both Gardesia and Cyvar watched the lord carefully. A sigh escaped Aurelian's lips rather than any outburst of anger, his eyes closing. He would speak with Cyvar later, as well as several others. He also needed to ensure Bal-Varos and Serigal had survived, lest their deaths be blamed upon him as well.

"Light, I need a drink."

#World of Warcraft #Aurelian Indaris #Skullcrusha writing #Tales of the Gilded Lands #Part two

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fictionalrat · 7 years ago

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let it happen | chapter 4

read on ao3

9:40 A.M.

Lance saves the document, closes it, stares at his laptop desktop image until his eyes start to sting, groans in frustration, and slams his laptop shut. Puts it aside. He crosses his arms like a petulant child, he chews on his bottom lip, his eyes roam around his room.

He watches as the wind plays lazily with his curtains, making their shadows dance, swaying back and forth.

Something moves in his peripheral vision. He rolls his head to the side, fingers hovering over the keypad. The sight that meets him makes him pause, his fingers freeze, Keith looks so peaceful, he looks almost… ethereal. It’s kind of disturbing, yet mesmerizing at the same time.

Keith’s pale face glows a tender hue under the morning light, the sun tinges his chapped lips a deep pink, the scar under his left eye looks almost translucent.

Keith’s so… unfairly beautiful.

He catches himself tracing down the slopes of Keith’s face, the lines of his jaw, the curve of his upper lip with his eyes like a piece of chalk on canvas. He’s never seen something quite this stunning before in his life (granted, he’s only 22, but that’s beside the point), if only he knew how to draw like Keith does.

Lance can’t take this, his heart’s too weak.

He wants to bury his face in Keith’s ruffled hair, wants to breathe him in, wants to have him in his arms, wants to touch, but he seems so out of reach like this. Lance curls his fingers into fists, aching to touch. He restrains himself from charting pale, fading freckles down with his fingertips.

It… it’s very distracting, is what it is.

Keith scrunches up his nose, grumbles and throws an arm over his eyes. Lance’s breath catches in his throat.

Lance… Lance is fucked, he knows he’s fucked, he already knew that then (when Keith suggested this… arrangement), he knows that now, he’s known that for some time now, but it never fails to catch him by surprise. This… feeling never fails to overwhelm him. He fucking hates this… whatever this is, he has no fucking word for this… feeling. It claws at his throat, it kicks him the gut, it scorches his heart, it clenches his heart in a death-grip, it steps on it, it rips his heart apart.

Lance covers his face in his hands and rubs, groaning in frustration. This is ridiculous. He forces himself to look away, and focuses on drilling a hole into the wall with the force of his glare instead, running his tongue over one of his canines.

Do not distract yourself with cheesy rom-com bullshit, bitch, he scolds himself, Write. Yes, writing is good. Stressful, but good. Go back to writing. Avoid contact. Don’t look. Avert your eyes. Work. You’ve got work to do, so do it.

After about five or so minutes of glaring despondently into fucking space and hating himself for being pathetic, he does. He’s always been good at taking all his frustrations on his writing.

He pulls his laptop into his lap, opens it, double taps, and the document appears on the screen. The cursor blinks curiously at him, he blinks back, and sighs. He starts scanning it for typos, and corrects them, all the while grumbling about how fucking stupid he is, and how fucking stupid all those mistakes were.

He adds some of the worst expletives in big, bold and italic capital letters next to shitty, weird ass sounding paragraphs that don’t ever seem to get any better, even after rewriting them seven thousand three hundred and eighty-four fucking times. Doesn’t matter how many times he tries, how many times he bangs his fists on the keyboard, how hard he hits the keys, the words don’t ever seem to come out quite right.

Rinse, lather, repeat.

“¡BESA MI CULO, PUTO!” He snaps at one particularly dumb typo, and deletes its whole sentence out of spite.

Keith stirs, and groans next to him, turning his body towards Lance. Lance tenses, holding his breath and sitting very still until he’s super sure, 100% Keith won’t wake up. Keith sighs obliviously in his sleep, and turns on his stomach. Lance lets out a relieved breath, closing his eyes.

He snaps them open and shakes his head in frustration, “No seas tonto, Lance.”

He hits ctrl-z and skips the paragraph entirely, jumping to two paragraphs bellow, he reads it and gasps, “¿Qué carajo? Who wrote this? A fiveslgfjdjdfds.” A hand lands on the side of his face with a smack, smooching his cheek. Lance screams, - of course he does, how could he not. - and almost falls off the bed.

“SHUT YOUR ROTTEN MOUTH, I’M TRYING TO SLEEP,” Keith growls at him, voice raspy, and low, and terrifying. Even muffled by the pillow and drowsy, his voice doesn’t lose its aggressive edge. What the fuck.

Lance, after recovering his soul, turns his head so he can stare at Keith with raised brows, and huffs, “Hella lot of words coming from a sleeping person, I’d say.”

Keith groans and lifts his face off the pillow, glaring at him through squinty eyes, “Shut that fucking trap, you moldy piece of bread, or get out.”

“This is my fucking room, Keith,” Lance sputters, snapping his laptop shut for added effect, “you get out.”

“I’M SLEEPING, PISS OFF,” Keith kicks at Lance’s leg with enough force to bruise.

“OW! CAREFUL WITH MY COMPUTER, YOU BRUTE!”

Keith grumbles, turning his back to Lance and covering his head with Lance’s comforter. He curls into a ball, shutting Lance out.

Lance relocates his grumpy ass to the couch after flipping an oblivious, snoring Keith off.

He loves the guy, but damn, can he be an asshole so-

…Wait, did he just-

Oh, hell no.

10:34 A.M.

stud muffin so………….. do i even wanna know? probably not, but you’re gonna tell me anyway pidge, cover ur eyes

pidgeotto shut up hunk im not 5 GIVE ME DA DEETS LANCE

space boi lance AWWW MAN MY DUDES MY BROS MY PALS MIS HERMANOS

pidgeotto oh boy here we go…….. im regretting this already

space boi lance SHUT IT BIRD TURD anyway where was i before i was so rudely interrupted??? ah yeah OH MY GOD MY DUDES hes a screamer KEITH KOGANE OUR KEITH IS A SCREAMER ITS LIKE AAAAAA GUYS boi so thicc too goddem cant wait to have him up my ass honest such a nice dick 11/10 reallygreat work of art grade a AND DAT ASS!!!!!!!! GUH SO FUCKING SMOOTH he looks really nice when hes sleeping too so soft i want to chomp on his cheeks ughhhhhh how can he be so perfect its so unfair im swooning i swear to GOD he looks hot even when hes kicking me out of my own room which UNFAIR

A facebook notification pops up at the top of his phone screen in the middle of his rant.

Hunk Garrett tagged you in a post, it says.

Lance arches an eyebrow, “Huh.”

He taps it open.

Hunk Garrett is listening to the less i know the better, by tame impala i’d like to dedicate this song to my good pal Lance Martínez you know /why/ Pidge Holt and 5 others

Pidge Holt HOOOOOO BOY THE BURN THATS Y UR MY MAIN HO HUNK I LOVE U

Matthew Holt lol babe look at The Shade Takashi

Takashi Shirogane Ah yes, that is indeed The Shade Of It All *scratches chin* Lance Martínez shiro i love u but dude ure embarrassing get off the internet Matthew Holt dont trash talk the baby lance Matthew Holt he’s sensitive Matthew Holt (ure adorable babe) Takashi Shirogane I take offence to that Lance Takashi Shirogane No more dog memes for you Lance Martínez NOOOOOO DAD NOT THE DOGGO MEMES Takashi Shirogane ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Pidge Holt ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Hunk Garrett ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Matthew Holt ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Lance Martínez u guys are absolute TRASH

Lance Martínez the WORST I TELL U WORST

Lance Martínez I NEED NEW FRIENDS ASAP

Pidge Holt awwwwwwww lance i love u too Pidge Holt u can tell me everything later i’ll allow it Pidge Holt bring food Pidge Holt and redbull Pidge Holt tons of redbull Lance Martínez ure… ugh Lance Martínez i hate u Lance Martínez u tiny bird turd Pidge Holt URE tiny Lance Martínez GASP U TAKE THAT BACK Pidge Holt ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Hunk Garrett ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Matthew Holt ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Takashi Shirogane ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Allura Ourania ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Lance Martínez LULU NOT U TOO Allura Ourania ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

11:35 A.M.

He’s avoiding the huge ass, one-sided, and glittery elephant in the room, he’s avoiding the fuck out of it. He’ll avoid the fuck out of it until it goes away, until it disappears for good, until it goes to fucking hell, until it’s burning in the fifth circle of hell.

He has no time for this.

This project is worth 40% of his grade.

His prof’s a mad man, yeah, but that’s how it is. He won’t flunk this class just because he can’t control his feelings.

He can’t, won’t, jeopardize his project just because of fucking feelings.

¡No, de ninguna puta manera!

He needs a shower.

And a joint.

And coffee.

Tons of coffee.

But a shower first, then facials, then weed, then coffee.

Tons of coffee.

He’ll also down a shot of tequila, because he’s feeling adventurous.

(Reckless, he means reckless.)

1:45 P.M.

Lance’s minding his own business, stirring his way into his fifth?? possibly, probably, he’s not sure, cup of coffee, and stuffing his face with ham and pineapple pizza rolls in the kitchen after smoking a whole joint by himself in the bathroom, when he hears it. It is terrifying. A dull thud reverberates through the apartment, echoed by it; the most earth-shattering, ear-splitting shriek he’s ever heard.

“LANCE!”

He freezes, his heart plummets.

His spoon drops and clatters on the floor.

“LANCE, YOU’RE FUCKING DEAD,” the deity roars.

Lance squeaks like a fucking mice, and squats, hiding behind the counter.

Run. Pack your things and go, get out of town. Flee to Europe, change your name-

He presses his overheated cheek to the counter and sighs, so good. He grins wide.

Keith’s feet smack on the floor as he stomps, over-aggressively, I dare add, out of Lance’s room, “What the fuck did you do to my ass, you rotten egg?” His voice is louder now, much louder. Lance jumps mid giggle-fit, which sets him off into another one.

“ME!” Lance peers over the countertop and raises his hand, waving sluggishly and cackling, bloodshot eyes wide. Well, as wide as they can go, which, honestly, isn’t much, considering, “I DID THE FUCK! I PUT MY DICK IN - HAH - YOUR ASS! YOU LET ME - HAHAH - IT WAS WILD!”

Keith takes a long look at him and, like a flip has switched, his scowl melts and he bursts out laughing, his nose crinkling up. It’s so fucking adorable, Lance’s heart hurts. It burns. It screams in pain. Lance laughs the pain away like the idiot he is, or maybe just because he’s high as fuck. One can never be too sure, ya feel.

“I know that, you fucking stoner, I mean THE BRUISES.” He points at his bare hips, trying to catch his breath.

Lance’s eyes travel south.

Helloooo there, legs.

Wait, he went too far.

Go back two frames.

There, hips.

Lance blinks, and tries to open his eyes further. He can’t.

He blinks again.

Oh.

Ho boy, he did a number on the guy alright.

Also, this part is super wild, bare with him, it looks weirdly… beautiful? It’s gorgeous, actually. It’s a masterpiece, Lance is an artist.

The red and purple splotches scattered across Keith’s skin are… kind of blurring together in one big ass bruise, that reminds him oddly of the Milky Way. Lance fights hard against the white urge to draw an alien-head above Keith’s hipbone. Keith probably wouldn’t mind it, though. The nerd. Lance chuckles.

Keith clears his throat.

Lance flicks his eyes up at Keith, blinks languidly at him several times. Keith’s waiting for something, isn’t he? What is it again? He rakes his brain for an answer. It beeps.

Ah, yeah.

An answer, right. He needs to answer Keith, duh.

Lance cackles at his stupidity.

“Oh, that.” Lance wipes his eyes on his sleeve in between chuckles as he finally answers, sniffing. He braces his arms on the counter and pushes himself up on his feet, winking, “I’m not sorry about that.” He lies his torso on the counter, smooching his cheek against the cool surface, and shoots Keith a lopsided smile.

Keith shakes his head, “You’re an idiot.”

“Yeah, but you looooooove me,” Lance sing-songs, finger gunning lazily with a grin.

Keith rolls his eyes fondly, and gets closer, dragging one of the stools from under the counter, and sitting down gingerly, wincing a little. His eyes flicker swiftly to something as he settles, before they land on Lance again. Keith frowns, “Should you be drinking coffee?”

Lance frowns back, puzzled, turning his head so he can look at his mug. “Shouldn’t I?” He wonders.

Keith leans over the counter, elbows propped up, and starts picking idly at one of the pizza rolls sitting pretty on the plate in front of him, “It doesn’t affect your high?”

Lance gasps. His pizza rolls. “No touching, you fugly mullet, it’s mineeeeee,” Lance whines, reaching forward and swatting Keith’s fugly hand away. He snatches the plate from Keith and brings it closer to himself, tucking it in between his arms, away from pizza roll-thieving mullets. Lance sticks out his tongue at him, before fitting two of the biggest rolls in his mouth. At the same time. For emphasis. His cheeks puff out.

Keith ducks his head to hide his grin. “You look like a chipmunk,” he comments nonchalantly, tapping his knuckles idly on the surface.

“Nhobowdshy ashkd yuh, Puhtrish,” Lance shoots back.

Keith rolls his eyes and flips him off with both hands, leaning back on his stool.

Lance flashes him the half-chewed food.

“Fuck, that’s gross.”

“Ah.” Lance struggles to swallow all of it dry, but manages, “I forgot to - clears throat - answer, coffee doesn’t affect my high much.” He shrugs, taking a bite off one of the rolls. Keith hums.

Lance swallows, “Pass me the straw, please. The long, bendy one.” He gestures a thumb back.

Keith slides from the stool in one smooth movement, makes his way around the counter and goes for the drawers. Lance hears as it slides open, “Which color?”

“Purple,” Lance answers over his shoulder.

He stretches his arm when Keith pulls the straw out and makes a grabby hand at him.

“Oh no, you don’t,” Keith holds the straw over his head.

“Gimme, or I’ll punch your di-I-i-aaAAAAAah,” he tries to steal the straw from Keith, but loses his footing and almost dives face-first into the cold, hard floor. “¡Coño!” He fumbles to keep upright, hooking a hand on the edge of the other side of the counter. Thank fuck for long fingers.

Lance manages to get his balance back by planting his feet firmly on the ground. Keith makes his way back to his stool, and once he’s settled, he hands Lance the straw already stretched. Keith’s lips quiver in a poorly concealed attempt not to laugh, eyes twinkling mirthfully.

Lance rolls his eyes as he throws the straw into his cup, propping himself on his elbow and resting his chin on his palm.

Keith makes gagging sounds, bangs falling on his eyes.

Lance ignores him in order to bring the straw to his lips with his free hand, and suck the coffee, swallowing in an obnoxiously loud gulp.

Keith’s nose wrinkles in disgust. “You’re gross,” Keith comments, tucking his hair behind his ears.

“Thanks, I try,” Lance grins around his straw, then frowns at Keith’s bare chest. “Shouldn’t you put on some clothes, though?” Lance asks, eyes half-lidded, “It’s freezing, Keith.”

Keith raises an eyebrow, looking down. “Off-topic, but no, Lance, it’s not,” he shoots Lance a look, rubbing the bridge of his nose, “And how would you know, anyway? You’re high.”

“What’s this jealousy I’m feeling? There’s more, you know.” He pats the breast pocket of his sweatshirt with a dopey smile, and meets Keith’s eyes as he takes a sip, waggling his brows. He swallows and winks, “Don’t need to get all broody on me, grumpy pants.”

Keith hides his face on his arms and groans. Lance can see the blush rising on Keith’s neck, and allows himself a mental pat on the back as he pushes himself upright.

“Okay, let’s go,” Lance trots towards his bedroom.

3:32 P.M.

When they sober up enough to get stuff done, they throw themselves on the couch, legs tangled because why not, right? It’s not like Lance’s life makes any sense, anyway.

Lance with the camera in his hands and laptop on his stomach, Keith with his headphones around his ears, and one of his weird, edgy sci-fi books resting on his thighs.

Lance rests his head on the armrest and hits play.

Keith’s feet tap a comforting rhythm against Lance’s.

4:02 P.M.

Keith falls asleep against the couch, mouth slightly open.

Lance does a poor job at reducing the volume of his laughter at his dramatics on video. Even though Keith’s got his headphones on, Lance still manages to wake him up, and ends up getting kicked in the shin by a very rumpled, grumpy, and over-sized baby with a fugly mullet for that.

He tries not to laugh again.

…He fails miserably, and both his shins suffer.

Terribly.

4:30 P.M.

Because Lance has shit luck, and the universe is out to get him, they didn’t manage to catch Keith’s o-face on video. Life is unfair, God hates him, Jesus hates him, even Buddha must hate him, because this, right here, has got to be some sort of twisted divine punishment. Maybe it’s Karma, maybe he was a murderer in his past life, he doesn’t know. What he does know, though, is that this must be fixed.

“Dude,” he kneels on the couch and shakes Keith’s knee to wake him up, “Dude. DUDE!”

Keith’s eyes flutter open and he squints at Lance, blinking blearily, utterly confused.

Lance sits back on his heels and he offers Keith the camera, “Look.”

Keith, while frowning up at him, sits up and takes it. He yawns, unplugging his headphones from his phone and into the camera. He hits play.

Keith snaps the camera shut after about ten minutes, a furious blush burning his high cheekbones and the bridge of his nose. He still looks mildly confused, though, and astoundingly flustered, bringing his knees to his chest.

Lance bites on his bottom lip and heaves a huge breath. “We’ll have to tape chapter 1 again,” he clarifies.

Keith lifts an eyebrow, face still bright red, “Because…”

“I can’t see your face when you’re coming, dude.” Lance explains, waving his hands at the camera in exasperation, “That’s unacceptable, you know. really preposterous. I can’t have this, I can’t WRITE like this. This is a disaster. We gotta redo this, Keith. It’s a matter of life and death.” He grabs both Keith’s knees and shakes.

“But- I’m awake now, dipshit, quit shaking me,” He snaps, batting Lance’s hands away from his knees, “But… don’t you remember my face when I was actually coming yesterday?”

So, you see… remember when Lance mentioned he has shit luck, and the universe is out to get him, and some sort of divine punishment is being inflicted upon him? There’s another reason to back up that assessment.

They not only hadn’t caught Keith’s o-face on video, but he also didn’t get to see Keith’s o-face in living color yesterday because he had his fucking eyes closed. Which rude, Lance. That is just plain rude. There’s no excuses. That’s probably why God, Jesus, and Buddha hate you this much.

Lance hangs his head. “I- I had my eyes closed,” he confesses, accepting defeat.

“You’re hopeless.”

Lance’s head shoots up and he gasps, “Excuse!”

“No,” Keith stands up abruptly, almost kneeing Lance’s nose in the process.

Lance squawks and reels back, out of reach, eyes wide, “Wha-”

“Shut the fuck up, you dry raisin,” Keith glares accusingly at him and Lance flinches, “I’ll fix this.”

“Kei-”

Keith’s arm shoots up, and he points his index finger at Lance, thick eyebrows pinched. “Stay put,” he warns, waving his finger, “don’t fucking move, don’t breathe.”

Lance is too confused to react, or even say anything, so he just gapes.

“Just… stay there, I’ll be quick.”

Keith returns buck naked, with a dildo and the lube in hands.

Lance’s at a loss, he’s a loss for words, his sass is gone, along with his ability to form coherent thoughts. Keith has that effect on him, apparently. Keith always finds a way to give Lance whiplash.

Keith dumps the stuff on the coffee table and turns his attention to Lance, he chuckles at what he sees there, “Shut your mouth, Lance, you’ll catch a fly.”

Lance finds his voice. “Wha-” he clears his throat, and shakes his head before continuing, “What the fuck?” (Eloquent.)

Keith rolls his eyes as he picks up the camera, “You’re gonna tape me as I touch myself.”

Keith hands Lance the camera.

“I don’t…” Lance takes it, still completely dumbfounded.

Keith cuts him off, “I told you I’d fix this, didn’t I? So this is me, fixing it.”

Something in Lance’s brain seems to click.

“Oh,” he replies dumbly.

Oh no, is what he means, no fucking way. He’s gonna die today.

Yup, today is the day.

“Okay, so…” Keith claps his hands, “scooch over, I need the space.”

Lance’s eyes widen, “You really gonna do this here? On the couch?”

“Is there a problem?”

Yes. There’s a ton of problems, actually. Not with Keith doing it on the couch, but still, there’s a problem. Tons of problems. These problems have problems. For one, Lance will probably die. For two, he can’t do this anymore. He can’t but he has to, and he will because his project is worth 40% of his final grade, he will because he has to. He has the moral duty to prove to Keith, and to himself, that he, as a matter of fact, can do this, even if he’ll end up hurt. Fuck his feelings.

“No, no, nope, no problem at all. I’m all up for jerking off on the couch, sign me the fuck up. It’s just…” Lance blows a raspberry, scratching the back of his head, looking around the room, uncertain. He can’t meet Keith’s eyes, “it looks too cramped, I think? I was just, uhm, thinking that maybe, I don’t know, you’d prefer doing this on a bed?”

Keith snorts, “Nah, it’s okay.”

Lance finally looks at him, searching his face, “You sure? Like, 100%?”

Keith rolls his eyes, “Yes Lance, don’t worry, just… keep the camera on me.”

Lance sits upright, crisscrossing his legs, and points the camera at Keith.

#klance #keith x lance #voltron #vld #klance fic #fanfic #my stuff #sup #weed tw #drugs tw

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