#the fuck is the lower case for ae

[tlwebb]

[aemonds-little-belle]

Feelings Sold Separately

CHAPTER THREE (THE RULES)

Modern!Aemond x Reader (SUGAR BABY/SUGAR DADDY!AU)

TAGS - (REPOSTED FROM AO3) -

Alternate Universe - Sugar DaddySugar BabySugar Baby AUAUokay this is a whole ass story that's just one long ass brain fartliterally i am just coming up with this on the spotlow key really love it thoughSugar Baby/Sugar Daddyobviouslytalks of class issuesaemonds been hurt in the pasti think there will be some sexy stuff eventuallywait fuck i didn't mention this is a modern!aumodern!AUAlternate Universe - Modern Setting<3Aemond "One-Eye" Targaryen is Bad at Feelingsstop that was recommended but so accurateI don't know how to do tagsI'm SorryI promise it's goodAnd no one diesand it's just so classically a sugar baby/ sugar daddy au it hurtsreader works at a cafe ... obviouslythis will follow a similar storyline to the show just modern and also not at allFamily Issueswait probably dom/sub vibes tooDom/subLight Dom/subclearly i don't know where this is going yetmy readers are always written fat because i am fatso keep that in mind

+ + + + + +

Friday shifts always seemed to go by fast, the regulars, and those who took fridays off to shop in the city, flooding in with hardly any reprieve. Eyla and Y/n served coffee drink after coffee drink, the pastry case practically bare, donuts and croissants suddenly much more popular than they had been all month. “Thank the Gods it's the weekend!” Eyla cried, putting her coat on in the back room as the two girls got ready to leave.

“I just hate that weekends are only two days.” Y/n pouted.

“Speaking of days off.” Eyla began, rummaging through her purse. “Any plans with Mr Sexy Voice?” She once again raised and lowered her eyebrows in suggestion. “Also known as a literal fucking Targaryen.” She scoffed a laugh.

“I haven’t heard from him so I don’t think so.” Y/n lowered her head, filling her coat pockets with her things, the new phone included.

“Ugh bummer. You should text him.”

“I don’t want to bother him.” “He’s literally paying you to bother him, I don’t think he’d mind.”

“He’s not paying me to bother him.” Y/n rolled her eyes. “He’s paying me to …” She paused, realizing she actually wasn’t sure what he would be paying her for.

“Sex?” Eyla asked.

“NO!”

“What? It’s a genuine question!” Y/n just huffed, hands in her pockets as she waited for Eyla to hurry up so the two of them could leave. “Okay I’m ready.”

The two of them went out the front door, locking it behind them before saying their goodbyes, hugging quickly, and saying goodbye for the weekend. “Stay safe!” Y/n called out as she watched Eyla turn the corner, the both of them going in semi-opposite directions. She turned her own corner, hands still in her pockets, clinging to any warmth they could.

“Y/n.” A deep voice called out, one she would have, before, gotten ready to fight, but the silvery blonde hair and eyepatch made her realize it wasn’t a thug wanting her petty change that was in her pocket, just the man that wished to make her wallet overflow with bills. “Did you get my text message?” He asked, a hint of playfulness in his tone as he leaned against a black car, Y/n stood in front of him like a deer in the headlights.

“Oh.” She whispered, she hadn’t even thought to check the phone after her shift ended, something she never had to do before. “I’m sorry, no.” She kicked herself mentally, ‘I should be better at this’, pulling out the phone and turning it on she noticed five messages from Aemond, ‘that’s quite a few’. She smiled, looking back up at him, ‘at least he seems to still like me’. “I’m sorry, genuinely, I’m not used to having a phone to check.”

“Hmm.” He stood up fully, his hands now clasped behind his back, his eye searching Y/n’s face for any hint of a lie. “I just wanted to know if you were free after work.” He asked, his eye finally meeting hers.

“Yes.” She blurted out, genuinely having never had a thing to do after work, she knew the answer quickly. “I’m free.” She said a little more composed this time.

“Hmm.” Aemond hummed again, ‘I swear he knows I like that sound more than I should’, he gave a smile, one that clearly he didn’t mean, the gesture never meeting his eyes, before he opened the car's passenger door. “Are you hungry at all?” He asked as he gestured for Y/n to get in, her body giving a slight start as she realized that yes, she was the one getting into a fancy car with a rich guy, this was in fact her new life.

“I guess so.” She admitted, buckling herself into the seat, her feet rigidly laid in front of her, her mind not allowing her to truly relax.

“Do you have a favorite restaurant?” Aemond asked, buckling himself in as well, filled with a similar amount of anxiousness, the two sat comfortably in their seats, but uncomfortably in their skin.

Y/n laughed, shaking her head. “Unless you count the Cafe I work in.” Aemond shook his head ‘no’. “Then, I have never eaten out before. Um, do you have a favorite restaurant?” She asked anxiously in return.

“I do.” He hummed, starting the car up and checking his mirrors, pulling out soon after before speaking again. “It’s not far.” He cleared his throat. “Do you by any chance like waffles?” He smirked, never once taking his eyes off the road.

“I love waffles.” Y/n smiled back.

+

The waffle place wasn't far from Y/n’s work, just a few blocks away, the place glowing a subtle blue, the sign lighting up the street as the sun began to slowly set. “This is your favorite restaurant?” Y/n smiled, standing just far enough back from the building to take in its full glory, the inside more traditionally decorated, a stark contrast to the world around it, the blue glow warmer than the harsh white that could be found everywhere else, funky patterns adorning any bit of fabric the place had to offer.

Aemond shuffled his weight from foot to foot, suddenly anxious about his pick, a feeling he hadn’t felt in a while. “If you would rather we could always …” He began.

“No! No.” Y/n shouted. “I love it, I’m just shocked that you like it here.” She looked him up and down, him once again wearing a suit under his tailored trench coat, no doubt a watch, that cost the down payment on the building in front of them, nestled beneath his sleeves.

Aemond just took a step forward, opening the door, some man in the back waving and calling out his name, Aemond’s movements so clearly pulling him to a specific table, his actions effortless and natural, as if he lived here. “My Mother used to take me here, just the two of us, when I was a child.” He softly said, a bit of resistance lacing his words, as if he was protecting the memory, yet honoring it at the same time.

Aemond had stopped in front of a booth, one away from windows, closer to the back, no doubt to hide his famous identity from nosey people. “I can see why.” Y/n said, sitting down on one of the booths benches, pulling her coat off before placing it beside her, quickly pulling out the new phone and her wallet, placing both on the table. Aemond did the same before taking off his suit jacket too, rolling up his button up shirt sleeves, showing off his toned forearms, the right one covered in an intricate dragon tattoo, the black ink contrasting his skin perfectly.

“This is for you.” Aemond cleared his throat, pulling Y/n out of her daze, a small bank card held out to her, the green shining in the Waffle house's light. “It has the entry fee of a hundred dollars on it.” Y/n’s eyes grew wide at those words, the card felt heavy in her hand, ‘Hightower Bank’ sprawled across it in fancy gold lettering, numbers underneath it, and her name written in puffed out plastic for all to see. “I have no access to the account, I can only send it money.” Aemond ensured, pulling out a small notepad and pen from his coat, then following a large folder. Y/n placed the card in her wallet, the old thing looking so undeserving of such a fancy card, a weird representation of how Y/n felt. Sure, a bank card had always been something she meant to get, but certainly not one from the richest bank in all of King's Landing, let alone most likely all of the adjoining cities and countries.

“Aemond, my favorite customer!” A man cheered, placing two menus on the table, quickly cutting off the previous conversation. “What can I get you two to drink?” He asked, looking at Y/n with kind but wondrous eyes.

“Can I have a water please?” Y/n asked, her eye’s meeting the man’s, then Aemonds.

“A water and a pot of coffee please, Daris.” Aemond watched as Daris walked away, Y/n still nose deep in the menu, trying to pick what she wanted, the menu full of choices, ‘too many’, if you asked her. “See anything you like?” Aemond hummed, pretending to look over the menu as intently as Y/n was.

“Yeah, everything.” Y/n laughed, looking at the small pictures that showed what select dishes looked like, the whip cream, chocolate, and fresh fruits all calling her name.

“Why don’t you get a few things?”

“I just got a bank card, Aemond.” Y/n scolded. “I don’t want to spend it all in one go.”

Aemond let out a low hum, this one clearly drawn out in frustration. “Why don’t we go over the rules of this arrangement before ordering?” He asked, waiting for Y/n to protest or ask a question, instead she just nodded her head, waiting for him to continue. “To start, what would you like to be paid?” He asked, clicking his pen open.

Y/n pondered for a second, looking around the dinner as if the walls held the answers. “Well, what.” She huffed out a puff of air. “What am I being paid for?”

Aemond smiled, the gesture genuine, impressed by her assertion, even if it wasn’t as confident as he would have liked. “Hmm.” He hummed, quickly wiping the smile off of his face, leaning back in his seat. “Well, I need a plus one to work events, parties with possible partners and their romantic interests of the month.” Y/n gave him a small smile at that. “Same with family events, I don’t think I can stomach another dinner alone with them.”

“Are they nice?”

“Some of them.”

“I guess, well, that’s better than none of them.”

Aemond chuckled. “You and my sister would get along well.” He leaned back in, the light above the table once again highlighting his features. “I also would like you to spend the majority of your weekends with me, and a night out of the week to go to dinner, just the two of us.” The last two requests seemed to be said with much more heart, want, as if they were the true reason he asked Y/n here today.

“As long as we can have dinner here.” She pointed her finger to the table harshly, as to prove her point. “Then you have a deal.”

“A deal?”

“Yes, would you like to shake on it?” She asked, her confidence slowly fading, yet she kept a hold on it.

Aemond held his hand out, grasping hers and lightly shaking it. “It’s a deal.” He smiled, Y/n shooting him one too before pulling her hand away. “Also, whenever we go out together, I will be paying.” His voice was lower now, telling, not asking.

Before Y/n could argue Daris had brought their drinks, handing each of them a water and an empty mug, placing the pot of coffee, milk and sugar, in the middle. “Have you decided what you want to eat?” He asked, clicking his own pen in anticipation.

“I’ll have my usual, please.” Aemond asked, the plain waffles with a side of different toppings calling his name, as it always did.

“Can I have the chocolate chip waffles please?” Y/n asked, handing Daris the menu, and giving him a sweet smile.

Aemond looked at Y/n, wondering why she had settled for just one thing, but choosing to ignore it for the time being, Daris walking away shortly after. “Back to my original question. What would you like to be paid?”

Y/n sighed, totally out of her depth with this question. “You’ve had … Arrangements before right?” She asked, a nod of his head signaling ‘yes’. “What did you pay them?”

“This isn’t about them, Y/n, this is about you.”

Y/n sighed, as excited as she was for this whole thing to kickstart, she hated being the one to make decisions, though she was sure Aemond hated having her make decisions too, the look on his face teetering to and from anticipation and pure agony. “You’ve already given me a hundred dollars, which is a lot by the way.” Aemond gave her a look of disbelief. “So, what about a hundred each month? If that isn’t too much.”

Aemond let out a laugh, a mildly loud and gutful laugh. “Y/n, I only gave you a hundred dollars to open the bank account, I intend to pay you much more than that.” Y/n was now the one with a look of disbelief on her face. “You get paid minimum wage at the cafe, correct?” She nodded her head ‘yes’. “Why don’t we start with that then? Hmm?”

“Aemond.” Y/n pleaded.

“I could pay you a thousand dollars a minute and I wouldn't falter a step the next day.” He shook his head, pouring his coffee, taking a sip of it black before continuing. “I’m doing you a favor by paying you minimum wage, Little Dragon.” The nickname slipped off his tongue, and before he could apologize or take it back, a smile spread across Y/n’s face, her eyes softening at the nickname. “Is it a deal?” He asked, holding out his hand to once again shake on the agreement.

“Can we at least circle back to the whole ‘money thing’ in a bit?” She asked, holding her hand out, but not close enough for him to grab it. “Just to talk about it.” She added, once again pleading with him.

“Hmm.” Aemond liked her bargaining skills, the kind eyes doing wonders on his leniency, just solidifying that she would be perfect as a plus one to some upcoming events. “Deal.”

[blazing-spectre]

Ae Attourney

Favorite Male Character

Apollo tbh love the guy. Great as a relatable protagonist, short king, great outfits, he’s got it all

Favorite Female Character

Franziska von Karma (she’s so pretty). 10/10, love her, done a little dirty by the series overall honestly but great nonetheless I’d die for her. Capcom if u ever bring her back you’re on thin ice because my standards for Fran return are HIGH. Altho seeing her as a Wright and co client could be cool…

Least Favorite Character

Literally so many of them. Infinite amounts of them. Probably Sal Monela or whatever the dude in the Steel Samurai case was called

Favorite Ship

Now this is a tough one. Honestly, franmaya my beloved, with klapollo equal but a bit lower just bc it’s a lot more available and can get a bit much. Franmaya is always exciting to see and think about though.

Favorite Friendship

Can I count Maya and Pearl as a friendship bc them. Good sibling dynamics. If not, then Phoenix and Maya bc even better dynamics

Favorite Quote

I’m always a big fan of, “I was hoping to come up with something while objecting. I did not.” Honestly almost all the lines in this game make for decent quotes.

Worst Character Death (if any)

Mia :( I miss her every day

This made me so happy you have no idea Moment

When Edgeworth when to see Phoenix in the hospital in Bridge To Turnabout I lost it. Especially when we got to play as him for a good chunk of the case.

Saddest Moment

Seeing Edgeworth in jail in the first game :/ ALSO WHATEVER THE FUCK IS GOING ON IN THE 2ND CASE OF DGS!?!? BRO!?!?

Favorite Location

Wright and co office :3 place of some of my favourite moments and honestly feels kinda homely to think about

[nalgenewhore]

Slipping Through My Fingers - Fourteen

masterlist - ao3 - last chapter - next chapter 

warnings: none

an: .....hehe 

Her apartment was cold and dark. Everywhere she looked, she saw him. 

His hoodie was on the chair, his side of the bed rumpled from the nights he spent here. Even her cupboard and fridge were filled with his favourites. 

Elide had finally been able to convince Yrene she was fine to be alone, but she wasn’t. It was crushing down on her, her heart feeling like it had been ripped out of her chest. 

He didn’t trust her. 

She loved him. 

He didn’t trust her. 

She wanted to be with him forever. 

He didn’t trust her. 

Her knees buckled and she fell against the door, sliding to the floor as a pained, heartbroken sob fell from her lips. She hugged her knees to her chest, tilting her head back on the door as she sobbed again, her vision blurred by hot tears. 

Elide covered her mouth with her hand, sobbing into the skin of her palm. 

She’d been broken up with before, she’d broken up with people before. Hell, her last relationship - she’d never felt heartbreak like that. But this, this was unbearable. And they hadn’t even officially broken up. 

Elide buried her face in her arms and muffled her sobs in her hoodie, no sound coming from her as her shoulders shook. 

“I love you,” she whispered, hoping he somehow heard her. Hoping he held onto the remains of her heart that he’d ripped from her and hoping he would take care of her soul for her, just in case she never got it back.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Elide was still crying when she used her key to open Aelin’s door. She was trying to quell her tears when she walked in and saw the living room and kitchen lit up by countless candles. And there Aelin was, dressed in an oversized white dress shirt that had to be Rowan’s and nothing else.  

“Hey, babe– Ellie?” Aelin stood up from where she was sprawled seductively across her couch. 

“You’re not wearing pants,” Elide cried, hiccuping slightly. 

Aelin winced and walked over to her, “I know, I’m sorry, we were supposed to do this whole no-pants night…” she trailed off, utterly confused at Elide’s distress. 

“Do you want me to take my pants off too,” she sobbed, dropping her keys and purse to hug her sister. 

“Oh, no, honey,” Aelin crooned, wrapping Elide up in a soothing embrace. “What happened? Where’s that broody mans of yours?” 

“I don’t think he’s my mans anymore,” Elide cried, burying her face in Aelin’s shoulder. 

“What?” Elide pulled back, shaking her head as she tried to breathe. Shock lined the features of Aelin’s face and she gaped. “Are you serious? You broke up?” 

“I don’t know,” Elide whispered, closing her eyes as more tears slid past her lashes. “I don’t know anything.” 

“Oh, honey, it’s ok,” Aelin shushed her and walked Elide into her bedroom, nudging her to the king sized bed. Elide had always thought her sister’s bed was ostentatiously big, but she didn’t complain or say a thing as she crawled in and sunk down on the soft mattress.

Aelin ducked into her walk-in closet to change after kissing Elide’s forehead and whispering, “Just breathe, darling.” 

Elide nodded and tried to breathe through her tears. She closed her eyes and all she saw was Lorcan looking down at her with utter disapproval.

I never should’ve trusted you. I never should’ve trusted you. I never should’ve trusted you. I never should’ve trusted you. I never– She couldn’t stop herself from spiralling and started to hyperventilate, not able to get enough air into her lungs. 

Her hiccups and desperate gasps for breath had Aelin running back in, tugging a sweater over her head. “Elide, oh gods,” she said, sitting on the bed and hugging her sister close. “Baby, I need you to breathe right now.” 

“He doesn’t trust me,” Elide sobbed, her throat burning raw. 

“Of course he does,” Aelin assured her, brushing back her hair and wiping her tears away. Elide just shook her head, shutting her eyes tightly. They heard the door open and Rowan called out Aelin’s name. The blonde got up and raced out, whispering the situation to him before returning. “He’s going out to get us food from Emrys’.” Elide smiled weakly and wiped her cheeks, dropping her hands into her lap. 

“I’m sorry for ruining your night,” she mumbled, sniffling loudly. “I just- I didn’t want to be alone.” 

“Oh, it’s fine,” Aelin said, waving her hand dismissively as she settled back against the pillows. “So, what happened?” 

Elide sighed shakily, picking at her nail. “We got in a fight last night. We were gonna talk about it, but something happened at the shop and then I was watching Ko–” she sobbed and leaned into Aelin. “And he broke his arm and at the hospital Lorcan told me he never should’ve trusted me to watch his kid.” 

Aelin shook her head and pulled Elide closer, “Honey, no, come on, he’s crazy about you.” 

“He barely talks to me anymore,” she admitted, her lower lip trembling. “You should’ve seen his face, Ae. He looked like he was regretting everything, us everything in that moment and I just- my heart hurts so much.” She pressed her hand against her chest, like it would stop aching for one blissful moment. 

All her sister could do was cuddle her close. They laid in that heavy silence that Elide broke by whispering, “I love him.” 

Aelin could only hug her tighter and rest her chin on Elide’s head, “I know.” 

+*+*+*+*+*+*

By the time the door to her apartment opened again, Elide had long since fallen asleep and Aelin carefully extracted herself from her sister’s koala-like hug to tiptoe out to her boyfriend. Rowan wore a stony expression as he passed her the takeout bag. “How is she?” 

“Heartbroken,” Aelin answered. Rowan reached down to smooth away the frown on her forehead when she lowered her brow. 

“Why are you so pissed now?” 

“‘Cause Elide is perfect for him. She doesn’t put up with his asshole shit. Usually,” she said, rolling her eyes as she crossed her arms.  

“Yeah, well,” Rowan sighed, glancing back through her open bedroom door at the small figure on the bed, “she’s not invincible.” 

Aelin had been holding off her anger, because it was so clearly not what Elide wanted, but Elide wasn’t awake right now. And nobody messed with Aelin’s baby sister like that. “I’m gonna kill him.” 

“Woah, woah, hey, easy now,” Rowan said, catching her arms and blocking her from the door. Aelin bared her teeth and wrestled against him to no avail. 

“Let me go,” she spat, a snarl curling her lip. “Rowan, I swear, let me go.”

“Ae, listen to me,” he said, his voice hard and serious enough that she stopped fighting to get to the door long enough to pay attention. “I agree - he needs his ass kicked, but not right now and definitely not by you. Lorcan is… not ok, alright? I know he said some fucked up shit and I know that he hurt your sister, but he needs space right now.” 

“Space?” Aelin hissed, narrowing her eyes up at Rowan, who remained impassive and unmoving. “He breaks her heart and he needs space?” She made a disgusted sound in the back of her throat and tried to move again, but his hold was like steel around her wrists. 

“If you push him now, Aelin, he will never come back,” Rowan told her, something like grief flashing over his face before he schooled his expression. “What’s more important right now? Beating him up in front of his five-year old or taking care of Elide?” Aelin rolled her eyes and looked to the side, but Rowan wasn’t having it. He switched her wrists to one hand and gripped her chin in the other, making her meet his eyes. “Huh?” 

“Yeah, fine, whatever,” she muttered, yanking her wrists away and glaring at him as she snatched the takeout bag and utensils. “Did you get drinks?” 

He scoffed and nodded, “‘Course I did.” Rowan gave a pointed look to the other bag on the counter and she opened it, smiling excitedly at what she found. “Well, I guess I should get going then.” 

Aelin nodded and pouted, walking over to him and leaning up to kiss him gently, “I think we can make up for no-pants night with no clothes night.” Without another word, she pranced away, waving her fingers before she shut the door. 

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Lorcan unlocked his front door and put Kohana down, trying to keep himself together as his son sat on their bench and he kneeled to help him take off his boots. 

“Daddy?” 

“Yeah, kid?” he asked absentmindedly, harebrained as he toed off his own shoes and hung up his jacket. 

“Where did Ellie go? She was ‘posed to tell me a story,” he said in his little voice, kicking out his feet and scrunching his brow. 

Lorcan stuttered in his movements, his heart dropping as he floundered for words. “Um, she- I don’t-” he breathed out heavily and crouched down in front of his kid, trying not to let his grief show. “Ellie had to go home, coconut.” Kohana giggled at the nickname. “And… I don’t think we’ll be seeing her for a bit, ok?” 

“Why not, Daddy?” His brow scrunched in confusion. 

“She needs a little space right now and that means she won’t be at home with us,” Lorcan said, trying to keep his voice clear and even. “But, you’ll see her at school still.” 

“Oh,” Kohana said demurely, frowning slightly. “Ok.” Then, he hopped down and padded over to the couch, where Tigger was. The cat meowed and turned to glare at Lorcan as Kohana crawled onto the chair. Tigger coiled in his lap and flicked his fluffy tail over Kohana’s cast, batting at it experimentally. Deeming it to not be a threat, Tigger settled down and turned his yellow eyes on Lorcan, no doubt plotting his demise. Lorcan didn’t blame him. 

“You hungry, Ko?” 

“Can I have chicky nuggies? Please,” Kohana asked, cuddling his cat and gently petting him as Tigger purred. 

“For sure, kid,” Lorcan said, pulling his phone out of his pocket and navigating to his UberEats app, ordering the child some chicken nuggets and nothing for himself. After paying and getting the half-hour wait notification, Lorcan went to turn off his phone, but was stopped. 

He stared at his home screen, at the picture of Elide, her nose scrunched as she tried to stop her smile. She was sipping iced coffee through a straw, as per usual, the sun hitting her eyes just right that they looked like pools of dark honey. Gods, she was beautiful. And he had ruined everything, utterly everything. 

Kohana’s sweet voice called him back to the present and over to the couch, instructing him to put on Space Jam. 

When his food arrived, Kohana was only able to eat a couple nuggets until he nodded off, half a nugget in his hand and the other in Tigger’s fur. Lorcan turned down the volume, unable to sit in the silence of his self-inflicted heart ache as he stared in the vague direction of the TV. 

It was just like him, ruining something before it got good. And Elide? She was better than good. 

She was everything.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

an: hm. well. 

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[i-mybrunettelady]

----- 1334 AE

Liv offered to come. El remembers Liv’s whiskers trembling, as they often do when he’s annoyed, but doesn’t want to lash out; it’s always been one of the charr’s greatest mysteries, how he manages to keep his annoyance from fanning into rage.

“I can go there alone,” El said, pulling on his too big fur-lined coat.

“There are Elder Dragons,” Liv pointed out. It was cold in Lion’s Arch, but El dreaded how cold it’d be in far Shiverpeaks.

“I want to see Aurene. See what’s so special about her. See what’s made Caithe abandon all sense of normalcy and betray us for an Elder Dragon. Besides, Alysannyra wouldn’t risk Trahearne’s life. She can do few things right, but that she cannot allow herself to fuck up.”

“Alright,” Liv sighed. “Don’t get yourself in danger, though. I’ll worry.”

Liv offered to come, El turned him down and now he is heaving alone in the cold shithole that is Eye of the North, trying to chase away that special aftertaste of vomit that only an asuran gate can produce. But he has to see Aurene, has to see what drove Caithe to betrayal. Because it feels like betrayal, because every Elder Dragon comes to be big and green and scream in his mind, and willingly joining the oppressors of mortals on Tyria cannot feel like anything but.

He senses Trahearne before he sees him, deep in conversation with Aife. There’s a noticeable weight of worry in him, worry he keeps hidden and cannot shake off.

“El,” the Firstborn greets, brow shooting up in surprise. His glow isn’t as noticeable as it was before.  “What brings you here?”

“Aurene,” El says curtly.

“Hello, Elandrin,” Aife says with a smile. “How did your self-defense lecture with the saplings go?”

“Lecture with the saplings? Aife, my dear, you can’t have found a worse replacement.” Trahearne shakes his head in disbelief.

“I agree,” El adds. “Don’t think it was my idea. Oh no. Canach and I had a bet and how in the Pale Tree’s branches could I refuse a bet?”

Trahearne pins him with a fond, but serious stare. “How much money did he milk out of you?”

“Enough for two masterwork daggers,” El sighs sadly. “In my defense, nobody got burned. Badly. I don’t envy you Luminaries.”

“Good thing you’re not a luminary,” Aife laughs. “We’d all be ash by now if that were the case.”

“Aife, wait here a moment,” Trahearne suddenly says, going around the table to stand before El. He lowers his voice and asks, “Are you sure? There’s Jormag too-”

“They’re all evil things,” El says harshly, squinting. “But I can handle myself. Thorns, you’re like Liv. I’m not a defenseless little sapling, I survived Maguuma by myself!”

“Jormag whispers,” Trahearne frowns. It’s a strange expression. El feels anger with an equally strange undercurrent of guilt radiate from his friend.

“I should know how to defend myself from dragons whispering in my head,” El bites out angrily. He’s capable, strong-willed. What’s another Elder Dragon?

Trahearne purses his lips. El feels his annoyance beat against his own, and he’s ready to argue if need be. But ever the calmer man, the Firstborn doesn’t take the bait. “Just beware,” he says with resignation, turning to go back to Aife. “They don’t play fair and minds like minefields are at most risk.”

El bristles. “Your dearheart told you that?”

“Yes,” Trahearne says. “If only you two could get along, my life would be a lot simpler. You’re more similar than you’d like to admit.”

“Never let a wrong ripen into evil,” El says sardonically. There’s conversation all around him, sylvari projecting fear and excitement in equal measures, grunting of the charr, laughter of the asura. Blades clash and people who look important - a white-furred charr with tattoos beneath her eye and a big, darkhaired norn, a short-haired human and Logan Thackeray, a floating mass of energy that talks for fuck’s sake - all converse in words he doesn’t quite get.

They’re all here because Alysannyra gathered them. Maybe he even asks her where she got a floating magical being so he could get one for himself.

He turns on his heel and moves towards the corridor. There’s a curious sense of ancient magic lingering in that direction. That’s when he sees her. She’s translucent, white, on her throne of pale crystals, smaller than he expected her to be, but with a long neck and a soothing voice. El hates it, hates how kind it seems, how gentle, when all dragons do is destroy. There’s no kindness within a dragon.

She’s deeply engaged in a conversation - argument - with a charr who doesn’t sound like a charr. Alysannyra sits beside them, purple eyes attentively looking between them, as if waiting for an opportunity to interject. She looks on edge, there are dark bags beneath her eyes, and her legs keep bouncing, like she’s about to run and needs to be prepared at any moment.

Just as she’s about to open her mouth, the charr turns to El and speaks in that smooth voice, “Ah, a visitor!”

“Elandrin?” Alysannyra asks, standing up. “What are you doing here?”

“Sight-seeing,” he says deadpan.

“Please,” she shakes her head. “My day’s bad already, don’t-”

“If you think I’m here for you, you’re an idiot,” he says honestly. “I’m here to see your elder dragon. And Jormag, it would seem.”

“Hello, sylvari,” Jormag says sweetly, a sudden shift from their firm tone from earlier. “I’m pleased to meet you.”

“As long as you don’t call me fodder,” he all but hisses, managing to rein himself in.

“No,” Jormag replies, “that’s my brother’s role, but my brother is dead. You’re marginally more defensive than that compatriot of yours who resides here. I do not see the reason, really.”

“I will not be swayed,” El bites out. “I won’t accept anything you offer, you frigid lizard.”

“Do not antagonise Jormag,” Aurene says and it’s as if crystals fall from her mouth when she speaks.

“Aurene, let me handle this,” Alysannyra says gently.

“But, mother, he-”

“I know what he said,” her champion replies. “And I know he stands by that still. But I ask you not to fight my battles for me. It’s...” She waves her hand.

“Hypocritical of you, Champion,” Jormag tsks. “She just wants to protect you. It’s her choice, after all.”

That seems to have hit a nerve. “Shut up,” Alysannyra hisses.

Mind like a minefield, El thinks. It burns to admit Trahearne was right.

“I’m Elandrin,” he says. “Elandrin Aien. I’d rather be that than sylvari.”

“Of course, Elandrin Aien,” Jormag replies. “I’ll call you whatever you wish to be called.”

“Do not listen,” Alysannyra says, “do not engage. Jormag wants that. They cannot be trusted.”

“You’re protective of me?” El frowns.

“No, I value my own life and mental health,” she bristles. It’s as big of a compliment as she’ll ever pay him and a nearby sylvari chokes on his drink and stares at him. “And besides, Trahearne will end me if anything happens to you. You’re very dear to him.”

“How lovely of you,” he says. “Aurene, you say you like mortals, no?”

“My mother and father are mortals,” the dragon says. “I love them. All of them.”

“You do not make minions? Little Aurene-imbibed underlings?”

“None.” Aurene sounds confused by that line of questioning.

“How do you know that won’t change? How can you be sure? What’s your goal in pretending to be kind?”

“Pretending? I’m not pretending. I do not wish mortals harm. Elandrin, what is the purpose of this?”

“He’s distrustful because of Mordremoth,” Alysannyra explains, crossing her arms. She taps her heel on the ground. “My advice would be giving up. He’s set in his ways. He won’t listen in the best of times.”

“There’s no good in Elder Dragons. Only things they’re capable of are evil. I wanted to see what turned Caithe to your side.” El shakes his head. “False promises.”

Aurene keeps quiet.

“Mind your words,” Alysannyra warns. “It’s my daughter you’re speaking to.”

“And you’re the greatest traitor of them all,” El continues, “if this creature is your daughter. It’s all you could ever do. I knew it would happen, but he didn’t listen.” She closes her eyes, reaches out for her magic, taps her foot against the floor harder and mumbles to herself.

“Mind your words,” she repeats, with more firmness.

“Elandrin!” Trahearne’s voice booms from the hallway. He’s angry. “Is that why you came here? To insult?”

“If need be,” El replies.

Jormag laughs. “What a lovely show you mortals make,” they comment.

“And you, Lyss? Threats?”

“I’m a mother,” she says. “I was just defending her honour.”

“You two are impossible,” Trahearne mutters. “I’ll discuss this with both of you if I have to, and I clearly do. You’re behaving like saplings.”

“Tell you what, Aurene,” El says, eyeing the dragon. “Save Tyria and I may yet believe you don’t plan out imminent destruction. If not...” He shivers at the thought of the Mists. “Save the world, Alysannyra, and I’ll think you a little less of traitor.”

“Of course,” she says, holding his gaze. “It’s what I do. With or without your thanks.”

"With or without my thanks," he mocks. There's an admission of fighting back that wasn't there when he called her a murderer two years ago.

He doesn't know how he feels about it, so he turns to leave. "I'm returning to Lion's Arch, Trahearne. Call for me when you want to talk to me. I'm sure I've heard it before but..."

He doesn't wait for any replies. There's someone who would actually be happy for him in Lion's Arch.

[its-chelisey-stuff]

Was it love? Rant on the drama and *that* finale

Okay, so, one thing I'm glad of is that I didn't actually put so much time into this(I started it when half the drama was aired and watched it on my TV while I was doing something else, most of the time), nor was I too invested (despite what this ranting may led you to believe) but I did have my phone on my hands while watching the ending and I thought I was going to loose a brain cell unless I didn't turn my frustrations into something kinda productive, so I just wrote this down. 😂

The final conflict

First thing first: I didn't get the last minute drama. It was so unnecessary, but that can be said for half the choices this show decided to make. The whole thing that made DaeOh go away and hide is literally something that we, as viewers, discovered along the way. It was all huge misunderstanding where he wasn’t exactly innocent, but not completely guilty.

All of this because of Ryu Jin, basically. More than half of this story's conflict was because of him one way or another. In the past, because of his jealousy, in the present because his former ceo had the hots for him and since she "made him a star" she felt some sick possessiveness over him. Even at the end, after some time had passed, she was of the same mentality. *shudders*

Honesty between mother&daughter and an ignorant father

And seriously, why didn’t Ae jeong talk to her freaking daughter?? Why wouldn’t she tell the truth? Tell everything that happened 14 years ago? How many problems could have been fixed with that? The kid spent 12 eps stumbling around in darkness, thinking everyone but the real one was her father and making assumptions about the time she didn't even existed yet.

This story could have been a very bittersweet but healing tale of a man who was egocentric, selfish and felt wronged by everyone and everything, founding out he actually didn't know the full story, and have him realize he was just a mere mortal by knowing he had a daughter. They could have focused on building the relationship between the two. It would have been the redemption for DaeOh that was needed (not relinking his romance with a woman who didn't even bother to get an explanation from him, the man who impregnated her, and dissapeared for 14 years) and the thing Hanee so clearly needed and wanted, having a dad. (Oh, and her whole “I don’t need a dad, so be a good husband to my mom” attitude gave me a headache).

‘Strong’ female lead was actually just stubborn and resentful

I wouldn't have minded that Ae-jeong admitted she didn't know everything. In fact, she was very far from it. That she wasn't strong, independent woman, a hero. Of course raising a child alone is fucking hard, but the thing is that she didn't had to do it alone. Trying to contact Daeoh a couple more times wouldn't have done her any harm. I mean, fine, break up with the man, but the moment she decided to have her child she owed to her baby to at least try so she could have a dad! But she was proud and stubborn, and I cannot admire a woman like that. What a pity that this was my first drama watching Song JiHyo, but I think she did her best with what she was given. 

Sigh I just think that is awful that the woman I thought of as amazing on ep 1, was actually a mirage, an illusion. Yeah, she was strong in a sense, but her story was nothing to admire.

The romance (if you can call it that)

Finally, that OTP which was awful from beginning to end (and I actually never saw much chemistry between the actors). For a moment there, I thought I could tolerate them, at least, but while Daeoh started to redeem himself in my eyes, the object of his affection, AeJeong, was just sinking lower and lower, getting less and less sympathy from me. I will never understand why the man he became, could still be in love with a woman like her.

Literally any other pairing on this show would've been much more interesting. Hell, even the kids, who were adorable to watch (and for some reason got married in the end, like, I like the idea but what was that ending?). The hallyu star and Asia's angel. Gangster dad and bar's unnie. You name it.

And in the end young hot teacher had nothing to do or add to the story beyond liking Ae-jeong, just because she was the only one who told him to get his shit together and have another dream after his injury in highschool ended his basketball career. The fuck?

What was lost

The potential. The potential this show had and was lost is how I'm gonna remember this drama. The potential in its characters, the potential on the relationships, the potential of a better backstory, the potential of a better story in general.

Also, how good, plot twisty, could've been if Ae jeong and DaeOh didn't end up together, because, as irl, fourteen years or misunderstandings and zero talking are actually too freaking much to overcome. Daeoh should have focused on having a relationship with his daughter, on winning her and just her. And Aejeong could have ended up alone, as the independent woman she loved being, or at least make it interesting and have her have a hot romance with the best character, Koo Pado. Man, Aejeong had the best chemistry with him and they just did nothing with it? I saw it from ep 1, it was fire. At least use his character better, make his time longer: he was the best character and I actually enjoyed his whole story and the relationship with his son was pure love.

THE POTENTIAL THIS SHOW HAD. AND WITH SUCH A WONDERFUL CAST. GONE TO WASTE. I just feel bad for everyone involved. Even for the brief cameo SF9 had, lmao. At least they barely showed Rowoon's face.

Conclusion

Thank God is over. Among all the dramas I've seen this year (and they aren't a lot but I've made some questionable choices that thank goodness didn’t backfire till now) this is the one I barely enjoyed and regret a bit okay a lot. It'd be a lie to say I never did like it, because somehow I managed to finish it. But I wish I could've enjoyed it more.

My best memory from this drama will be the delightful OST that has been stuck on my head for weeks. That and Koo Pado. And A-rin. (Dasom, sweetie, from He's psychometric to this? Choose better next time, honey).  And all the discussions I had with @eclectifylady​ were a highlight. It was so fun to try and make sense of the story, because with every episode, it proved to be a mighty task hahaha. At least there was something good this drama gave me.

Also, in case it wasn't clear, and you haven't watched the drama and are thinking of doing it, don't.

Just watch something else.

[coconutsugacones]

BUGS BIRTHDAY "STASH"

san and I were cuddling on top of the couch, watching tiktoks and giggling, forgetting what personal space meant and then all of a sudden he He lifts up his white shirt off his body and came straight at my neck, attacking m with harsh hickeys

he took my shirt off and went lower and lower, kissing every inch of my skin. Normally I would have screamed at him to stop but these days my hormones have been acting on me and with all my emotions heightened, I start to enjoy it slightly moaning his name while my hans went up to his face he sliD my panties off and started slURPING up my insides like a slushie. It was when he started to suckk on my lil ball of nerves when the front door opened with an ASTrOmOnIcal Amount of force the door open bUrSt open and two clowns ran in. Two plump looking clowns in striped reD was all I saw for a few seconds in my aroused state. It was then I realised it was my two mates.

“just as it was getting good” i whispered to san as we tried to cover ourselves oP because we realized they we’re tryna film us to make a porno tape??. As Mals was trYnnA gesture at me to keep going, her clown nose detached off and rolled on to to sans ass.

mals tried to pick up her clown nose from sans ass but just ended up making it go further in his holé. "ahhh UhG" San let out a moan that I could only describe as something between an anime girl and a construction worker having a wank on his break.

now all 3 of us were gathered around sans ass, trying to get the clown nose outta his ass, we were working aT iT like a group of engineering students trying to fix a brokEn engine. Then rans had the absolutely thrilling idea of facetiming her bouyften Yuri for help getting it out. While I was trying my best to deter her away from that idea (cause hello that's mY BRO) San that mf spilled all his load on the couch

while ihu was busy trying to clean sans white mess up rans quickly called yuri up, knowing he had plently experiences with getting bALLs outta pacific holes

"yes it only works with strawberry ice-cream" we heard Yuri say. with that rans quicky went towards the fridge to look for the said icY GOodnESs. we were all confused with what yuri said, but at this point we were willing to try anYTHING to shimmy that ball out of there

"Shimmy yeah shimyy yeah shimmy yeah all allalassslll" San Started to sing. It was then rona’ came in with a bUCKet of the sweet stuff™️

She guided San to sit in the bucket and thanked the jeezis for his thin hips and snatched waist. The poor bOi was terrified as to why he was in this situation, calling for HOngJoon hyung even though he's hallways across the continent.

I was doing my best to comfort san, because even though he tried to play it off like it was cOOL*wink* i knew his ass was boutta freeze off

"okay next Yuri said we have to have one hand in the bucket with San" rans said "me MEEee" before I or anyone else could say anythinv, mals dunked her whole hands in.

mals instantly regretted dunking her hand in because it was colder than the mf nITROgen filled icecubes chan shoved up her vaheena the order day. Whilst mals was blowing on her hand as if THat will help we heard some pigeons from the balcony.

my whole face lit up when i realized my m8s were here for the rescue!

All three of us had the same idea and we ushered San in all his naked glory towards the balcony. "Okay San trust us this won't take long"

the pigeons gathered around san in a prayer circle and started chanting in some kinda weird oTher woRLDLY language that none of us had heard before. Slowly but surely the red nose started to slip out of san. This resulted in some ass simulations for the bOi and he stared get hard again, the moans now louder and echoing though the empty street

they all started to cheer clAP in joy, finally the ball was out! but wait what was that-

THE PIGEONS HAD ACCIDENTALLY SUMMONED SATURN 🪐

And there was Saturn! Makinb his way downtown.

san started whIMpering in fear as he didn’t want another ball anywhere nEaR his ass after that traumatizing incident. So we all headed back inside and the pigeon follows us in probably wanting a snack for their hard work. RAns wasnt having any of it and dragged each pigeon one by one by their wings outside and made them drink the now melted ice cream from the bucket.

ihus cancer ass didn’t want her m8s to be drinking anymore of her fiancés gREASE and led them into her bed to sleep, because after all without them san would prolly still have a ball in his ass. The pigeons were all drenched in the pink liquid but they all laid down on my bed like the good slavs they were. as i put the piegeons to resting, i realized we had to do suMN about this wandering satURN 🪐

I went out to sitting room to discuss what we should do about saturn and nealrh choked out sans cum from last night case there was saturn, leaning against the kitchen door just chilling on one leg

“sup ladies” saturn beybe-nim said with a wiNK as he started to hoP towards us

"soo I was thinkinnn" Saturn started with his gay ass voice as he sat down at our table and started helping himslef to sum mashuni and roshi. before saturn could help himself to more of MY food i was coming @ him but then san pushed me aside and started walkin towards sAturn, dick first, at full speed.

"Omg I totally forgot about sans demon kink!" Mals exclaimed taking out her camer and going behind the couch for that "angle" or watever..

san didn’t heard her aNd tRIPPED on the ground, dick in fULL erection and this was when Saturns gay ass Approached him to sing "hey I just met you and this is crazy but hears my number so call me maybe" but san got propelled towards the ceiling from bouncing of top of dick

I had ENOUGH of him flirting with MY mans and went over there and slapped saturn across his smug face.

Saturn immediately burst into tears saying something about how "none of god's niggas can be gay in peace" but the real cAtASrophe was his tears were absolutely boiling hot and dissolving the living room rug

at that moment, san knew EXACTLY what he had to do before the whole place melted into nothing. He laid down in submission, ass up as mouth open for saturn-sunbaenims tears.

saturn immidiAtly stopped cRYING and came over and slAPPED sans ass, at this point we knew we were overpOwERED by saturn and had to let him have his way if we wanted to live.

Even though I would have never been okay with it I decided to let Saturn have a quickie with my mans.this whole thing was unfair and it was supposed to be MY bIrdthay.

My girlies were comforting me and all of a sudden saturn peeled his face off to reveal he was acTUALLY WOOYOUNG all along and said “no homo bro”

"wOOOYOJnG I'm AbOUTTA KILL YOu" I screamed while going after him with ae fruit knife.

then san turned towards me and repeated a quote by the god herself “it’s not cheating if it’s your soulmate”

At This point i had had enough and scrmead at EvErONe to leave so I can go back to my room and chill in the AC with my pink m8s

while i was having some time with the m8s I realized it wasn’t really sans fault, and he only did it to save all of us. Wooyoung was to blame! did he think this was funny to do on my special day?? me and the m8s were discussing a plan to prAnK him bacc. I knew San and all of the clowns were taking refuge in my parents room so I headed there

when i went in i looked around and didn’t see anyone?? was i blind? I could’ve sworn i heard them in there. Then I went to the balcony and saw rans giving wooyoung the actUAl devil a blowjob so I quickly turned around and saw San and mols on top of the ceiling fan.

this made me even more mad! before i could address any of the problems that were going on my m8s quickly flew in to coMMeNse THe plAn. They grabbed onto wooyoung and started flyING him out of the house as fast as they could and I turned to him and said “if you wanna be saturn so bad go live in space”

My m8s unbottomed his shirt and started to fly him out almsot naked. I laughed to myslef cause he'd be having his purple nips out for the public to see. everyone stopped doing what they were doin and came out to thr balcony to see wooyoung being launched into space. But I wasn’t done with them yet! rans was cheating on yuri, san kinda cheated on me but not really? and mols probably invoted wooyOUNg here in yhe forst place.

I called for a group gathering and picked up the melted ice-cream goo with all my might and threw it on towards the traitors.

they finally got what they deserved! or did they? I looked at them and realized they were kinda elEcTRICUTING?? what the actual fuck they weren’t my friends this whole time but ROBOTS.

I gasped and took a step back in disbelief. Were they the AI robots KQ sEan kIm-nim talked about? But how did he actually manage to make and send them here?

i was so relieved but scared at the same time, at least it wasn’t my friends doing all of theese shenanigans but where were my ACTUAL frens.

The robots were now going going haywire in my living room and I was left to my own devices (literally) to clean it up and somehow get rid of them before my parents cake back.I concentrated all my negative energy on them and actually managed to throw them out of the balcony

They landed on the street and dissipated into thin air. I heard a loud elphephantd noise and looked up to see balcony San but now he looks even more like real San!

every thing was such a mess and i knew I couldn’t do it alone so i called him over to help me clean up and maybe sneak out to fiNd my real frens after that

He did a lil salute and ran straight to my house. I was extremely glads that he didn't reject me but honestly thou I did my hair the night before and was feeling like a bOUjee bitch WHo COULD deNy Me AAhA

we quickly cleaned up and went to look for the huMAN m8s

Whilst we were walking his hand slowly slipped into mine and I almost gagged on mylsef.

then I remembered sAN and how dissapeted he would be and sadly broUGHT ma hans back to myself and went aloNG. Balcony San started talking bout how he was a new trainee ata Japanese company-

we wandered along to this dark, kinda scary lookin hALL? all the lights were off and I couldn’t see anything. My clumoy ass slipped in the shiny tiles and balcony chan was too busy talking about CoLOr changing pigeons to notice it

as i helped myself up, balcony san pushed me into this bALL piT and all the lights turned on! then i saw my m8s and as i was gonna run towards them to hUg them i realized they decorated the whole place for ma borthday!!.my HUMAN m8s, rona, mols and sAN that is akakka

There was this huge redvelvet cake and a small lil stage to the side. When the stage lightings cam on I SAW MF Ikon and they started singing their songs but rock version with AcTUAl live drums and guitars. then all of the ateez members also came up from backstage and they all started singing together. San gestured atme to come up

Ateeze and ikom collabed to make me a birthday ballad song and I was fully bawling my eyes out while stuffing the caked in. From the corners of my eyes j saw rans and mals having a swimming battle on the marbled tiles.

i brought them all in for a group hug, even wet ol rans and mols and i thanked them for this amazing gift! this shore was a birthday to remember

[andoqin]

K-Dramas of 2020

Well, like the general mood of 2020, the dramas this year were uh, certainly an adventure. I was going to put all the dramas I watched this year here, but uh. This turned out longer than expected so I’ll guess I’ll separate K-dramas at the very least.

Putting this behind a cut because Long.

Completed:

365: Repeat the year: I barely remember this one, but I gave it 8/10 on MDL, maybe I should lower that, because honestly all I remember are the time-travel meet up set and the main actors.

CHIP-IN: A short who-dunnit, which has interesting characters, although the show was very wise to be capped at 8 Episodes, because the “mystery” was pretty predictable and also starting to wear thin. Still, the younger cast was stellar and I hope we get to see them in more.

Diary of a Prosecutor: The cases in this drama were actually legit interesting to me and I found the politicking surprisingly not bad. People were flawed in very human ways, but the drama gave us enough time with our main characters to enjoy getting to know all of them.

Do you like Brahms: Contender for worst drama of the year for me, good lord I hated the way this tanked its story line, its characters and the romance. Is it believable that the main characters might act this way? ... Debatable. Is it entertaining to watch? Hell fucking no. Don’t watch this one, unless you like stupid misunderstandings and non communication. 

Extracurricular: Short action-y show on Netflix that makes me hopeful for what Sweet Home might be. 

Flower of Evil: Lee Jun Ki gets to suffer prettily. That is All. Okay Moon Chae Won and LJK were great together, but it got almost makjang-y by the end. 

Hospital Playlist: Delightful Slice of Life Medical show, that despite its delightfulness never quite got me. Very enjoyable and at 12 episodes it doesn’t overstay its welcome, but it didn’t stay with me either. 

Hot Stove League: Pretty entertaining and as a drama about sports management seems reasonably accurate? (Not that I’d know of course). 

Hyena: Flawed as heck in some aspects (the lawyer-plotting got lulzy and boring at the same time), but oh my god some of the HOTTEST chemistry this way from sunday. Joo Ji Hoon and Kim Hye Soo just crackled anytime they were on screen together and Joo Ji Hoon as the high powered lawyer who falls head over heels in love with KHS’s character who is more reluctant to act on those feelings is just *chefs kiss*. Also didn’t suffer the Dreaded Plot Denuement of 2020 (DPD2020). Sure the latter half wasn’t as tight as the beginning, but it stuck the landing and that’s all that matters. 

Into the Ring: Weird camera angles and sometimes overly sharp edited shots aside, this had a solid romance, great characters, great romance and almost made me want to get into community politics lmao. 

It’s Okay Not To Be Okay (Psycho But It’s Okay): The first half of this show is just *amazing*, the way the scenes transition is pretty much film-like and the main character trio is stunningly well acted. Sadly the story with the mom is resolved in the weirdest fucking way, but the drama decides to do the smart thing and just forget about it once that’s done and the finale made me cry ;_;. 

Itaewon Class: Sadly also suffered the DPD2020. I was really into the first half, loved the way the characters found support in each other, plus: a main trans character! Handled really well! Also iconic OST. I was one of the few people who was into the romance of the main couple, but the way the latter half of the plot developed was just completely nonsensical and felt like the writer was just trying to tie off the lose ends as much as possible. 

Kingdom Season 2: The first season was stellar and this continues the trend! Although it doesn’t quite reach the highs of the first season I am still so looking forward to season 3! More Joseon zombies please!

Money Game: I... apparently watched this, and looking at the logo there is some vague feeling of “Yeah this is familiar”. But nothing else...

Mr. Heart: Okay-ish BL drama that has it’s cute moments but nothing that made me go “Ooooh”. I am glad SK is getting in on this trend though!

My Holo Love: So all of those Robot/AI shows that came before that I’ve seen and had the premise of “Oh no, I’ve fallen for a ROBOT” when it either turned out their object of affection was either human or actually a robot, but their human counterpart was so shitty that no sane person would like them worked pretty well for me. This one didn’t. From what I remember the heroine does very much fall for the holographic version of this guy, but the human version is *different* and yet whoops the main couple is still human/human. Granted you can’t really do romantic kiss scenes between a girl and nothing, but the switch-over felt abrupt and the way our main lady just transfers her affections to the dude never sat right to me. 

Mystic Pop Up Bar: Quite a few dramas this year went with 12 eps, and were all the better for it. Hwang Jung Eum is incredibly hit or miss with me (mostly it’s miss honestly), but in this one she’s used really well and I liked the way the premise was used!

Private Lives: I recently wrote a longer post about this, but honestly another victim of terrible writing and maybe DPD2020. 

Stranger 2: Love! Not as much as Season 1, but man this writer is *so* good at writing smart and interesting plots and looking at things from many different angles!

Tale of the Nine Tailed: Flawed but man do I ever love the OTP. Like really really love it. Plus it stuck the landing for me in a way few dramas did in recent months.

The School Nurse Files: So weird. So fucking weird. And yet, so very entertaining. Thanks to its short length ( I think) some plot threads felt very much unceremoniously dropped, but it has a canon lesbian couple!

The World of the Married: Makjang to the Nth degree, got kind of exhausting by the end, but Kim Hee Ae is so good. 

Train: Yoon Shi Yoon gets to suffer prettily! 

When the Weather is Fine: Kinda mellow and sweet and I wish I could live like the main character does (just have a bookshop in the middle of nowhere and still no money issues??? The Dream) but for that also not super memorable. 

Where Your Eyes Linger: SK’s first major Webdrama I believe? Cute and as a foray into this genre not bad, but I hope this is just a taste of things to come.

Dropped:

Hi Bye, Mama: So many people loved this, I couldn’t get over the basic premise and the way my brain tried to tie the logic in this together made my head hurt.  The King: Eternal Monarch: Maybe KES dramas just aren’t for me, I didn’t like the plot or the main couple. Woo Do Hwan and Kim Kyung Nam were amazing though and please please I beg both of you do more stuff. 

18 Again: Nope. Lee Do Hyun is pretty, but the setup drove me bonkers and I pretty much liked no one. 

Zombie Detective: Yikes no thank you. Complete mismatch of tones I wanted and the drama gave me. 

Romantic Teacher Dr. Kim 2: Zzzzzzzzz. I found the first one mildly entertaining at least but this one just made me fall asleep immediately. 

Black Dog: Yeah I watched like 2 Episodes of this and lost interest. 

Search: I’ve watched like 6 eps and I know there’s zombies, but I couldn’t tell you much more tbh.

Start-Up: I watched 2 episodes in the beginning, didn’t think I’d want to live watch this and then just popcorned the tag until it got insufferable with the ship wars and this dropped out of my watch list pretty immediately.

Record of Youth: Pretty much the same deal as with Start-Up only in this case there wasn’t so much a shipwar as the tag showing me that this drama would *not* be my bag at all. 

Still Watching: 

Kairos: Hmmmm timey-wimey stuff. The FL is this close to losing me though. The fact I thought it plausible that she would murder someone just based on a TEXT from someone else says it all. (She didn’t, thank god, and seems to have found a few of her lost braincells, but by god she was frustrating). 

Birthcare Center: I like what it’s trying to say and the main character and her husband are very cute, but a lot of the side characters don’t really interest me. It’s only an 8 ep drama, so I might finish this.

The Spies Who Loved Me: Honestly I’m this close to dropping it. Only my intense love for Yoo In Na and fondness for Eric are keeping me going. But she might not end up with Eric and I’m gonna be mad. Honestly if they just went OT3 I’d be really cool with this, but despite the small advancements in dramaland, they aint ready for that yet. 

Lies of Lies: I watched 2 eps and I might continue (the premise seems hilariously makjang and sometimes I’m into that, but it’s *very* much on the backburner)

The Uncanny Counter: Delightful Webtoon vibe, with some great visuals and actually nice action. I’ve only seen 2 eps so far but at least they don’t want to make me poke my eyes out or make me fall asleep. Let’s hope it avoids the DPD2020 plague. 

[rhinozilla]

Whumptober Day 12: “Don’t Move”

Summary:  Ben talks to an injured Connor to keep him calm while they wait for android emergency services to arrive.

--

Two people had fallen off that third floor fire escape, but an ambulance only arrived for one of them. The delay between calling for human medical services and for calling android emergency services had been significant enough that now, Connor had to remain where he was, lying on the ground, trying to see through the haze of warning text listing the accumulated damage across his vision, while listening to paramedics tend to the unconscious human a few feet away.

Ben, the only other cop at the scene when it had happened, hadn’t moved from his spot since he reached them. He stayed knelt on one knee, keeping a hand on Connor’s shoulder, trying to keep up conversation while they waited.

“I still c-can’t run a self diiiiagnostic,” Connor stated, visibly struggling to speak clearly.

Ben nodded. “That’s okay. AES will be here in a minute, and they’ll get you sorted out. How you feeling, bud?”

Connor wheezed and closed his eyes briefly. “There’s…damage.”

When he opened his eyes, Ben could see his gaze darting side to side, trying to dismiss all those red warnings. Ben grimaced and looked around. It was just them in the alley between the two buildings: two paramedics tending to the unconscious human suspect who had fled from police, and Ben just trying to keep Connor awake and calm until his own help arrived.

“D-D-Doesn’t hurrrrt at least,” Connor was saying, his jaw twitching enough to make his teeth chatter.

“Are you cold?” Ben asked, lightly placing a hand over Connor’s chest. “You feel hot.”

Connor frowned at his chattering teeth. “I d-don’t know w-why I’m…” He coughed once, and that seemed to reset enough to make the twitching stop. “My internallll temperature is a hundr…” He grimaced and tried again. “A hundr…Hun…”

“You’re overheating,” Ben supplied for him. “Can you breathe okay?”

Connor started to nod, but Ben put a hand to the side of his head to stop him.

“Hey, don’t move. We don’t know the full extent of the damage. Don’t make something worse by moving.”

Connor’s eyes widened a little at that, and Ben managed a smile.

“I’m not trying to scare you, kiddo, sorry. Let’s just minimize movement, all right?”

“Okay.”

“There we go,” Ben smiled more warmly as the sound of the paramedics behind him floated over.

“Pulse and breathing are stable,” one was saying.

“Lucky son of a gun—“ the second mumbled.

“Ready for transport,” the first one spoke over her colleague.

Connor closed his eyes, his brow pinching slightly as he endured the discomfort of the concrete ground under his battered body. Ben grimaced, noting the moisture collecting in the corners of the android’s eyes, not breaking free yet.

“Hey,” he said softly, giving his shoulder light touch. “I bet it isn’t even that bad. You feel this?”

Connor drew a steadying breath and opened his eyes. “Yes.”

Ben nodded and reached out, touching both of Connor’s wrists at his sides. “This?”

“Yes.”

He reached back, doing the same for Connor’s ankles. “How about this?”

“Yes…What are you doing?”

“Running my own diagnostic,” Ben chirped, moving back into Connor’s limited line of sight. “You can still feel everything. You’re breathing okay. You’re coherent. All good boxes that I can check off so far.”

Behind him, the paramedics hefted the limp man onto a stretcher, to be wheeled over to the waiting ambulance…Then they’d be gone, taking their patient to the hospital.

Damn, where were those technicians?

Connor coughed again, this time with a low moan of discomfort. Ben’s insides twisted; he hated how helpless he felt right now. Until android emergency services got here, and without Connor’s self diagnostic to help pin down had bad it was, all they could do was sit still and wait.

The heat coming off Connor’s torso was getting worse, and Ben leaned back onto his knee, preparing to stand.

“Let me see if they have anything I can use to tide you over until AES gets here.” He patted Connor’s arm and got to his feet.

Connor’s eyes went wide in direct correlation to Ben standing, and fear ran rampant across his face.

“D-Don’t leave me…please.”

“I’m not,” Ben assured with as much sincerity as he could push into his voice. “I promise. I’m gonna get some supplies from the ambulance before they take off, and I will be right back. Okay?”

“Ok-ay,” Connor’s voice hitched.

Ben gave him a meaningful nod and then hurried after the paramedics, loading their patient into the back of the vehicle.

“Hey,” he interrupted, staying out of their way. “What you got in there that I can help my friend with until AES arrives?”

The nearer paramedic paused as his colleague kept working on their patient. “We only got human supplies, Officer. We don’t have any thirium or—“

“Just gimme something,” Ben asked. “He’s overheating, might have some damage to his spinal structure…He’s scared and he’s hurting, come on.”

“Lang,” the first paramedic reprimanded her colleague, where she was bent over the patient. “We gotta go.”

Lang, however, hesitated. Then he was rummaging into one of the drawers on the ambulance wall. He yanked out a few bricks of cooling compresses, an oxygen mask with a small portable tank attached to it by a line, and a blue neck brace.

“You know how to set this up?” Lang asked, holding out the oxygen apparatus.

“Yeah.” Ben took the offered items. “Thank you.”

“Lang!” the medic barked.

Lang stood up, grasping the ambulance door. “AES is five minutes out. Can he hold on that long?”

“Yes,” Ben said, taking a step back. “He’s a tough son of a bitch.”

“Fuck’s sake—“ The second medic leaned into view, yanking on Lang’s shirt sleeve. “We’ve got a HUMAN patient to transport. Get your act together. Let’s GO!”

Lang returned to his patient’s side, shooting Ben an apologetic glance. Ben used his free hand to close the ambulance door, but not before getting a look at the other medic’s name badge: Morris. Stowing that away, he watched the ambulance hurry away from the alley, aiming toward the hospital.

One of the passersby who had stopped during the commotion took a timid step closer. She was just a teenager, still holding a takeout bag with food that had to have long gone cold. “Can I help?”

Ben wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. “An AES ambulance is on its way. Make sure they see us.”

She nodded and took a post on the sidewalk outside the alley, looking frantically back and forth for any sign of the coming ambulance. Ben hastened back to Connor, still lying alone on the dirty ground, panting slightly as his systems overworked to compensate for the damage.

“Hey, hey, I’m back,” Ben said, dropping to his knees and setting down the supplies. “Connor?”

Connor blinked up at him, his LED still yellow with interspersing red. His eyes were blinking out of sync, with one eye never completely closing or opening all the way. “Ben?”

“Yeah, buddy, look what I got.” He beamed, breaking one of the compresses and flexing it until it turned cold. “Hey, can you count to ten for me?”

“W-Why would I—“

“For fun, how about it?” he prompted, unbuttoning the front of Connor’s shirt and setting the cold compress over his upper chest.

Connor shuddered and coughed again. “F-Fine…One…two…three…fiv—four…four…five…”

“Good job,” Ben praised lightly, hooking up the oxygen mask to the tank and gently fitting it over Connor’s mouth and nose.

Cool oxygen flowed down the tube from the tank to the mask, and breathing it in hopefully helped Connor’s system regulate his temperature. That was the thought anyway. Ben took up the foam neck brace then and carefully situated the collar around Connor’s neck. Whether that would do any good or not, he didn’t know, but it made him feel better to see the kid’s neck supported after a fall like that.

“I see it!” the teenager called from the mouth of the alley. She stepped out toward the street, waving her arms just in case the ambulance might have missed them.

“Here that?” Ben said, setting the second busted cold compress lower on Connor’s belly this time. “They’re almost here. That’s good news.”

“…Yes…” Connor tried to keep blinking, and some of the moisture broke away from his fully functioning eye.

The tear rolled across his temple and into his hair, and Ben made a low noise, reaching down and brushing it away with his thumb.

“Hey, none of that now. You checked all my good boxes, remember? You’ve been through worse than this. This is a piece of cake,” he said, trying to encourage him.

“I’m still…” Connor spoke through the mask, suddenly looking so much like a damn kid that Ben wanted to just scoop him up and hold him. “…Scared. What if—“

“Now, you know better than anybody that the ‘What If’ game has no winners, so don’t even go there,” Ben remarked, putting his hand back on Connor’s shoulder. “It’s all right to be scared, but you’re going to be fine. And I’m staying right here with you, okay?”

The ambulance rolled to a hasty stop outside the alley, and two technicians flew out of the back, armed with supply bags and making a beeline for them.

“Thanks…Ben,” Connor wheezed.

Ben swallowed and nodded, giving his shoulder a strengthening squeeze. “You got it, Connor.”

[meladotjournal]

Esther - Like A Stone

Esther Abigale Lebel, despite everything, is still human. It’s her time. For now, at least. And all hunters go the same way- bloody. But what exactly happens when someone like her dies?

ESTHER has left the chat. 

Feauring: Aeszura and Dionysus. As always, I have no idea what I’m doing. If I write your character wrong, or if you have any comments at all, please tell me! I encourage it! I need to be more productive, and if you need me to rewrite absolutely anything/everything, I am more than willing to have something to do!

Takes place during Supernatural Season 12, Episode 21, set at the end of Esther’s story. Near 1800 words. 

/////

May 11, 2017

I walk out of the cabin, not bothering to clean up the mess inside. The fire I had started inside was already spreading. Sure, the bodies would smell, but at least I could be sure that I wouldn’t have to worry about any more undead spirits in this town anytime soon.

It was an easy hunt involving a couple of serial killers and a surprisingly helpful ghost. I was surprised that no local hunters (whose names I rarely bothered to remember) had picked up on it before I did. Jobs were becoming unsettlingly easy to find. I’m not one to back off of a case- I’ve been known to force other hunters off of jobs, but it felt wrong, and the recent British invasion was nothing if not suspicious. It made me almost glad that I hadn’t made many friends in the hunting community. 

And not that I was lonely or anything, but damn! I haven’t even heard from Aes. And I think we all know how much she likes to talk my ear off about things I hardly understand. But at least she sticks around, you know? I was worried about her, but don’t tell her I said so.

I start towards my car before I hear rustling in the trees. Or was it the fire? My paranoid ass wasn’t looking to wait to find out. That’s when I notice my tires were slashed. Shit. Shit! Here I am, moping like an idiot just to find out that someone’s tailing me. Just my luck. Shit!

I’d go back into the cabin, but that thing is on the verge of collapse at this point. I make a break for it, running into the thickest-looking stretch of forest, aiming in the direction of the shitty little town where I booked a shitty little motel suite.

I find a clearing nearby. Bad for cover, but a hell of a lot easier to run through. Just as I’m plotting my zig-zag formation, I see a big black SUV. Definitely bulletproof. Ominous. There’s sigils etched all over the thing. Shit. Those British fucks were onto me. I’ve been avoiding these cars for months.

I’ve spent too much time examining this thing. Lucky for me, this dumbass left the passenger door unlocked. Sloppy for one of the Men of Letters, though. What was he, drunk? Even the footsteps were sloppy. Small, around my size.

I hop in and crawl into the backseat, locking all the doors manually. I spot my reflection in the window. Jesus, I look terrified. My hands are shaking, and I find myself fiddling with my necklace. Stupid! Be productive! I use my stupid shaky hands to call the first person on my contacts list.

/////

We were getting ready for the next hunt, just like always. This was a big one, I can’t quite remember what, but it was something to do with demons and some weird hoodoo drug trade. And as much as I hate needing help, Aes and Dio were helping. In their own ways.

If I hadn’t met them while I was soulless, I doubt I’d have had the balls to stand my ground. In all honesty, they’re terrifying. I feel like at any moment, they could just eat me alive, or tell me that whatever bond we’d built was a part of some elaborate prank. But even I‘ll admit that I’m not exactly “best fwend” material. So I guess it works.

None of us sleep much. We were fooling around, getting drunk off the minibar while we watched the sunrise from the comfort of our surprisingly classy hotel room, thanks to Dio’s snappy finger magic.

“I think I finally figured it out,” Aeszura cackled. “I know exactly how I’d kill you.”

I rolled my eyes while Dio played along. “I really fucking doubt you could, little miss musical.ly star.”

“Yes, I could. I’d film it. No- I’d livestream it. And people would give me so much fucking money just to watch your smug ass die. I know the websites. Hell,” she laughed, “Facebook Live would work just fine. My followers would love it. Idiots.”

“You don’t even know what I am. I’ve been alive for thousands of years. I could be anything.”

“Time works different in hell. Like Australia. You can’t imagine how long I’ve been kicking ass. But I know exactly what you are. Dionysus.”

“I honestly doubt it. Dumbass.”

“You’re a little bitch, that’s what you are.”

I downed another one of the funky little cinnamon drinks. Not Fireball, but something fancier to match the room, and the Greek cotton I was spilling it on. Higher thread counts were pretty good at absorbing alcohol. Nice. I tried drawing patterns with my finger on the sheets before it could evaporate.

/////

I ran my nails along the face of my phone, fidgeting with the cracks in the screen. “Aes. Please, fucking pick up. I’m going crazy here. Crazier than usual. I’m talking to myself. I swear to-”

“Hey, bitch! What’s up?”

“Oh thank fucking god- Aes, I-”

“HAHA! Just kidding. This is my voicemail. Ha. Sorry. Follow me @stankthottie on musical.ly and-”

“SHIT.” I pound my head on the window, immediately regretting it. I can’t believe I fall for that stupid fucking voicemail every fucking time.

There’s no way I’m gonna be able to hotwire this car or anything. And even if I could, the Men of Letters would know that I stole it and track me down before I could even look at an asphalt road. I don’t know what I was thinking, getting into this car in the first place.

“-anyways, leave me a message after the scream or whatever. Except if you’re an angel or some shit. Eat a dick.”

“Aes, I’m such a dumbass. I’m in one of their cars. They slashed my tires and I- I can’t-” I squeezed my eyes shut, taking a deep breath.

“It doesn’t look good. I’m alone. Haven’t been able to figure out where all the hunters have been going and you know my knife hasn’t been working the same since Asteraoth… you know…” Shit, I’m crying. “-and I’m just so fucking scared, okay? I don’t know where you’ve been and why you’ve been avoiding me or whatever but now would be a really really great time to pop in and do that whole dramatic-as-all-hell smokey thing and save my sorry ass-”

I could’ve sworn I saw something in the trees. Someone? Blonde.

It’s started to rain. Great. Awesome. Fantastic. I try to shuffle my body lower into the seats and closer to the floor of the car. I can see the sky through the windows. The sun’s setting. It’ll be dark soon. I was hoping on getting some biscuits and gravy or something from the diner for dinner before heading out of town. My hiding spot smells like leather. And blood.

/////

“Fine. Fine! Then how- how’d you kill Esther, huh?”

“I don’t even know if that bitch can physically die. Can you die?” Aeszura threw an empty beer can in my direction, laughing, barely missing my head.

“Hrruhgh?” I grumbled.

“CAN. YOU. DIE.”

“Of course she can. Everyone does…” He paused, slouching. Before he thought we noticed his change in tone, he winked. “‘Cept me, of course.”

“I dunno. I’ll go to hell probably. Jus’ like everyone else.”

“Yeah right, with all those angels up your ass? You’ve got half of heaven on your stupid speed dial. It’s disgusting.”

“You’re sounding pretty self-righteous for a demon. What’s got your panties in a twist, huh, pink eyes?”

“They’re RED, fuckhead. Shut up. I hate you.” She coughed. “Ess, I don’t even know if you could go to hell. Trust me- I practically run the joint. Your soul isn’t, like, ‘soul-y’ enough. I don’t know what that angel did to you but-”

“He saved my-”

“Shut UP. Call it whatever the hell you want, but I know souls, okay? It’s kind of my fucking job. But even I’m not exactly sure what would happen if your m-eatsuit-” she paused to gag, “-exploded or something. It’s not a soul anymore. I’m not sure if it- if you - could even go anywhere.”

“Can’t become a ghost, can you? Your soul is already Tethered. I bet like, eight goats that you’d get trapped inside the knife or some shit like that” Dio giggles, snapping his fingers.

“Too bad your pretty little angel can’t tell you anything.” Aeszura joked, but she was getting genuinely angry. “That’s what you get for trusting some stupid fucking feathery-”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore, guys. We have a case, remember? Why should I care, anyway? It’s not like I can do anything about it. It’s just eternity. I don’t have to worry about that when I’m busy here. Working cases. And I don’t plan on dying anytime soon.”

Dio chimed in, singing. “That’s what they all say…”

/////

I’m still on the phone. I don’t want to turn it off. I want an audience. It’s stupid and childish, but even hiding from whoever’s out there, I don’t wanna be alone.

I can hear the rain attacking the roof of the car. The leaves on the trees are shaking just as badly as I am. Stupid. I’m probably overreacting, right? It’s nothing. This is nothing. I’ve been through worse. I’ve come out of worse. Who says I’m gonna die? I don’t know the Men of Letters’ M.O. but the thought just leaves a rank taste in my mouth and a lump in my throat. There’s something outside, I can feel it.

That’s when my knife, the Tether, starts humming. I take it out from the inside of my jacket, squeezing it tight. It’s glowing for the first time in months. The thing is practically singing, the vibrations making the worst noise imaginable, like a cross between a bell and a scream. The windows start to shake and the car alarm goes off.There’s a chirp and all the doors unlock. The rear door, the one by my feet, opens.

I sit up a little (might as well) and lock eyes with a blonde woman. Short hair. Big green eyes, but they’re glazed over. She looks tired, but she’s smiling. She’s holding some complicated device, as all these British fucks do- but she doesn’t look like one of them. She’s a hunter. They must’ve recruited her. Bitch. She fiddles on something on the device and the Tether stops screaming.

She pulls out a small gun and aims it right at my chest. I flip her the bird.

[thesesoftboys]

the obligatory coffee shop au

-

The barista looked confused as he worked on Ae’s order. It wasn’t even complicated, just a plain iced latte with extra milk, but his eyebrows were knitted tight and he was chewing mercilessly on the corner of his bottom lip. The name tag on his uniform read Pete. He had a nice smile when he’d asked Ae what he wanted to order.

Ae shook his head and went back to his assignment, grabbing a pen out of his pencil case. He managed to read the first two paragraphs of the chapter before eyes were drawn back to the barista behind the counter, who kept ducking under it like he was looking for something. Ae felt a twinge of guilt for bothering him so much, then remembered that he was the customer.

It was just - the barista, Pete, looked so lost. He was going this way and that, picking stuff up and putting them down with a flustered look on his face. It made Ae want to cancel his order or jump behind the counter and help him even though Ae didn’t know a single thing about how to make coffee and would probably make an even bigger mess.

Ae wrestled his focus back to finishing his essay, flipping through the chapter for reference and catching an erroneous calculation near the end.

‘ - fucking taking forever, you incompetent loser! I’ve been waiting for my order for ten minutes!’

Ae’s head jerked up, as did everyone else in the coffee shop. There was a guy at the counter pointing at the barista, and his voice carried to the four corners of the shop, loud and furious.

‘What kind of incompetent employees does this place fucking hire? I’m going to get your sorry ass,’ the guy grabbed a bunch of straws from the open holder and threw them at Pete, who flinched back violently, ‘so fucking fired.’

One minute Ae was watching, and the next he was on his feet, striding up towards the ranting asshole and twisting his arm behind his back. The guy shouted in pain and tried to break free, but Ae tightened his grip until the guy cried out again.

‘What the hell, man?’ Asshole demanded.

‘You should apologise,’ said Ae. He thought he sounded particularly calm when he was burning inside.

‘What? He should apologise to me - fuck! You’re gonna break my arm!’

‘No, you’re the one who assaulted him. Apologise.’

‘Assault - God, stop, OK, OK, I’m sorry! Fuck, just let me go!’

Ae shoved him away and the guy stumbled back with a curse. He looked back at Ae and sneered at him, then flipped off the barista, and all but ran out of the coffee shop. Someone in the room clapped. Ae ignored the whispers behind him as he turned towards the barista.

‘Hey, are you alright?’ he asked, heart thumping hard in his chest. He was still angry, lips twisted in a scowl, but he softened when he saw how scared the other guy looked, leaning as far away from the counter as he could. His round cheeks were flushed with colour, and the hand clutching at a piece of straw was shaking. Ae felt another rush of anger for the nameless asshole and vowed to kick his ass more thoroughly if he saw him again.

The barista - Pete - looked back at Ae with wide eyes. ‘I’m sorry!’ he blurted out, and his breath hitched on the second syllable, like he was about to cry. ‘This is my first day but my coworker suddenly got an emergency call and had to leave.’ His voice lowered to a wretched whisper. ‘I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault.’

Ae cleared his throat and lifted up a placating hand. He was weirdly affected by Pete’s dismay. ‘Hey, it’s not your fault at all. It was just dumb bad luck that that dickhead came here. I’m gonna ask again: are you OK?’

Blinking fast and licking his lips, Pete slowly nodded. He hastily wiped at his eyes with his sleeves. ‘I’m OK.’ He looked around him and seemed to wilt even more when he saw everyone still staring at him. Ae looked over his shoulder and glowered at them. Didn’t they know they were making Pete damn uncomfortable? Give the poor guy some space!

‘You saved me,’ Pete was saying, and Ae turned towards him and found that he’d taken a small step closer. He was taller than Pete and was slim and pretty. He looked all kinds of soft and delicate, and Ae felt something fierce and protective flutter inside him. What the hell was that? Ae asked himself in bemusement.

Pete took one more hesitant step forward. He still had a tight grip on the straw as if it was some kind of lifeline. ‘You saved me,’ he said again in wonder, and then his face fell, ‘and I haven’t even given you your order. I’m so sorry, I’m so bad at this. I think I’m going to quit.’

‘What? No!’ Ae shouted, and then grimaced when Pete winced. ‘I didn’t mean to yell, sorry. I meant, you don’t have to quit. It’s still your first day. Yeah, it’s been a shit but it’s going to get better. Work is important, right?’

Pete slowly put down the straw on the counter and fidgeted with his hands. He kept looking at Ae, and this would usually piss him off but Pete was the farthest thing from irritating. He was on the opposite side of Pond on the annoying scale. Ae tried a smile and was even more flummoxed when Pete relaxed a little bit.

‘So, when is your coworker coming back?’ asked Ae.

Pete glanced out of the glass walls and frowned. ‘I don’t know. Oh, wait, here he comes.’ He sounded absolutely relieved.

The bell above the door chimed as a skinny kid in glasses stumbled in, sweating and red-faced, and the lecture on the tip of Ae’s tongue fizzled away when he began to profusely apologise for running out on Pete so suddenly.

Pete raised his hands and said, ‘It’s OK, don’t worry about it, please. Can you, um, show me what to do?’

The guy went behind the counter and put on his apron, drawing Pete’s attention away from Ae, and Ae lingered there for a few more seconds before he went back to his table. He picked up his pen, darted another glance at Pete, and went back to work. It was harder to concentrate after what happened, his brain more interested in analysing the emotions that had made him want to smack that asshole until he cried and simultaneously wrap a thick, fluffy blanket around Pete and prod his cheeks into a smile.

Ae jumped a little when a shadow fell over him. He looked up and blinked at Pete, who was hovering above him, their faces close together. Ae’s heart skipped a beat. Pete looked shy, biting his lip again, and he placed something on Ae’s table.

‘Thank you for helping me,’ Pete said softly, holding the black serving tray to his chest as he took a step back. He took another step and bumped on an empty chair, making it screech loudly on the floor, and Pete whirled around and apologised to no one. Ae snorted behind his knuckles. Pete snuck a glance at him and then hurried back to the counter.

Ae looked down at his table and saw a perfectly made iced latte with extra milk on the bottom of the glass, straw sticking out on top, and a neat Ae scribbled on the holder. Beside it was a slice of red velvet cake and a napkin with a note in the same handwriting:

Thank you for saving me, Ae. I’ll give you free cake whenever you stop by.

Well, thought Ae to himself as he picked up the fork and gave a small, crooked smile, I guess I’m going to do all of my homework here from now on.

[insomnia-productions]

Incentives - a mat/rand drabble

Summary: 

"If I pass my exams, you have to go on a date with me.”

“What?”

Mat winked, and Rand felt his face grow hot. “How’s that for an incentive?”

Tags: College AU, Tutoring AU, Humor, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Getting Together, gratuitous references to the picture of dorian gray

Words: 5k

[Read on AO3]

.

His coffee was getting cold. Rand blew on it anyway, trying not to feel like he’d been stood up on a date. He should have known not to come early. Perrin had warned him. “Mat is never on time for anything,” he had said, grinning with fond exasperation. “He’ll be late for his own wedding, I bet.” 

Still, Rand was who he was, and he couldn’t just not arrive early to a meeting. He gave his coffee another half-hearted blow and sank a little lower in his seat, wondering why he had ever signed up to be a tutor. Although, in all honesty, he hadn’t so much signed up as he was metaphorically arm-twisted into the role by Moiraine, his peer advisor, just as he was quite literally arm-twisted into tutoring Mat Cauthon by Mat’s advisor, Nynaeve. But there was no use dwelling on that now. Instead, as he waited, Rand mulled over what he knew of his absent student. 

They were both in their third year. That would be a relief, except that they may as well have been in two completely different universities for all that they had in common. Rand was enrolled in the Black Tower College of Asha’man Studies, while Mat was in the Manetheren College of… whatever it was they did in Manetheren College. Perrin, who had roomed with Mat in first year before being switched to room with Rand, had spent a good hour and a half trying to explain Mat’s field of study to Rand, in preparation for this tutoring endeavor. He seemed to be doing something related to historical research and war studies, but he’d gone in for a self-designed major that Rand couldn’t make heads or tails of, and he couldn’t even begin to think of what Mat was planning to do with his life. 

More concretely, though, he did know that Mat was broadly known on campus for three things: his pranks, his flirting, and his Band of the Red Hand, the martial arts group he’d founded in first year that was the best in the university and, some said, the country. He also knew that Mat was currently barely passing his classes, although Perrin insisted that he was a lot smarter than he acted. Rand closed his eyes. Just what sort of person was Mat Cauthon? 

The sound of books hitting the table had Rand leaping half out of his skin; his eyes flew open to see a boy with brown hair and eyes flopping into the opposite seat. Finally. 

Before Rand could open his mouth, Mat was already talking. “Listen, you don’t have to do this. Nynaeve is terrifying, but even she can’t actually force you. Just give up now and tell her I’m hopeless. I’ll back you up. It’ll be fine.” 

Rand took a moment to process this. Tentatively, he asked the first thing that came to mind. “Are you hopeless?” 

Mat scoffed. “Of course I am. My mother tried to get me a tutor in high school, and he quit after two weeks. Not that I wanted his help, anyway, and not that I want yours, either. This will be a nightmare for us both, so do yourself a favor and get out while you still can, before you give Nynaeve hope and she really gets her claws in you.” 

Rand broke in before Mat could keep chattering. “No—look, I promised Nynaeve I would do my best, and I’m not going to go back on that.”

Mat shrugged. “Suit yourself. Make yourself miserable, trying your best, but okay.” 

Frowning, Rand studied the boy across from him. “Well, Nynaeve and Perrin both seem to think highly of you, and I trust their judgement. I’m not going to give up on you.” 

Mat’s expression, impassive until now, suddenly transformed as a smirk spread across his lips. “We’ll see about that,” he said, and something about that smirk was so intriguing, so wicked, so strangely charming—

Rand cut that train of thought off right where it was and cleared his throat. “Right, so, we’re going to start with your time management.”

Mat let out a groan and dropped his head on the table. Rand felt a smile tug at his lips and he thought, for a moment, that this tutoring thing might not be so bad. 

.

After one week of meetings, Rand had had enough. They were on the Green, books and papers scattered between them. Rand was sitting cross-legged, a textbook in his lap and a pen in his hand, but Mat was sprawled on the grass, making what appeared to be a daisy chain—although the flowers on the Green had long ceased to be daisies, ever since that Incident over at the Black Tower College. No one was entirely sure what they were now, but they were surprisingly easy to use in flower crowns. In any case, Mat was definitely not paying attention, as usual, and Rand felt like he probably knew the material better than Mat did, at this point. He glared at his student. 

“Mat. Mat! Are you listening?”

“More or less,” came the lazy response. 

Rand’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, really? Then tell me how the princes of Andor defeated the Cairhienin ambush in 1673.” 

“Fuck if I know,” Mat said. “Tell you how they should’ve done it, though. What they should’ve done is wall up in that great city of theirs and chuck fireworks out at the ambush. They would have had huge amounts of them in the city, at that time of year. It was just a few days before the festival of lights, when the Cairhienins attacked. They would have had enough firepower in the city to equate to modern bombs. Well, maybe not quite that much, but if they used Aes Sedai and Asha’man to enhance the fireworks, they could have dropped them like atom bombs on the Cairhienins. Just a few would have been enough, too. Cairhienins were always better at political games than wars. They would have scattered like ants at the first bomb, let’s be real, especially in 1673, with that useless king leading them…”

Mat rambled on, but Rand had stopped listening. He was staring at his student, eyes widening, and then he dropped the pen and yelled, “I knew it!” 

Mat startled, dropping his not-daisy chain, and twisted around to scowl at Rand. “Light, Rand, are you trying to kill me? Knew what?”

“You are clever!” Rand lowered his voice. “You aren’t failing your classes because you don’t understand them, you just don’t care! If we can just figure out some incentives for you to make an effort…” 

“Incentives,” Mat repeated flatly. Propping himself on his elbow, he studied Rand for a long moment, and then a slow smile spread across his face. “Alright. If I do well in my exams this semester, you have to go on a date with me.” 

Rand’s brain, which had been buzzing with ideas to help Mat, sputtered and died. “What?” 

Mat winked, and Rand felt his face grow hot. “How’s that for an incentive?” 

“It’s…” Rand closed his eyes. Summoned the flame and void. “It’s… certainly… an incentive.” 

When he opened his eyes, Mat was watching him. “Well? What do you say?” 

I’m so going to regret this, Rand thought, and said, “Deal.” 

.

A switch had been flipped, it seemed. Suddenly Mat was a near-perfect student, absorbing the material at a pace even Rand struggled to keep up with, at times. He was still loathe to do work, and procrastinated to lengths Rand had never before seen, but he was getting better with each day. Which was why, a month into their meetings, when Mat had thrown down his books and invited Rand to do something fun, Rand had decided to humor him. 

Now, he was beginning to regret that decision. 

“Mat,” Rand said slowly, “don’t panic, but I think I’m dying.” 

Mat’s gaze flicked to him; his eyes, dancing with mirth just moments before, were suddenly dark and sincere. “In that case,” he said, “I will avenge you.” 

A deafening roar exploded from the TV and Rand dropped his controller, relaxing back into his beanbag. There was no point in fighting on; he would be far more useful as bait while Mat took the monster down alone. It was a… Rand squinted at the screen… 

“Zombie Dracula? Seems like overkill.” 

“Tell me about it,” Mat growled, and there was real hate in his voice. “I can’t stand this fucker!” 

His fingers worked quickly and furiously over the controller; Rand watched, fascinated, but he soon grew dizzy and averted his eyes. He glanced at the screen, where Mat’s pea plant was launching peas at zombie foot soldiers at a breakneck speed. Rand had never before been so impressed, or so frightened, by a vegetable. Plants Vs Zombies Garden Warfare truly was… something else. 

Rand watched the battle for only a moment, as he soon found his gaze pulled back to Mat. His student—friend, by now?—was leaning forward in his beanbag, eyes narrowed and alight with malice as he stabbed at the controller. There was the hint of one of those trademark smirks on the edge of his lips; Rand found himself looking forward to the moment when Mat would win the battle, and that smirk would bloom in its full glory. Unfortunately, that moment never came. 

Mat let out a howl and threw the controller down as the screen faded to black. Rand reached out a hand and patted him gently on the head. 

“There, there,” he soothed. “It’s because you turned in your essay late. If you get the next one done in time, you’ll beat him.” 

Mat stared at him, and Rand smiled sweetly. 

“Incentives.” 

.

The weeks drifted by. Rand found himself spending more and more time with Mat. Much of the time they shared outside of tutoring was spent playing games on Mat’s XBox—although that had stopped for a few weeks after Rand had, in a moment of pure beginner’s luck, managed to kill the zombie Dracula, leading Mat to sulk over the stolen victory for a solid 72 hours—or, more recently, playing petty pranks on Mat’s roommates. But there were other sides to Mat beginning to emerge, aspects to him beyond the playful trickster he presented to the world. Rand loved these new sides to him, most of the time. This... was not one of those times. 

“How could you? How could you? Basil is—Basil is the sweetest, the kindest, the—”

“The boring-est! Face it, Rand, Basil is a bore. Lord Henry may be an asshat, but at least he’s interesting!” 

“Lord Henry is like the 19th-century equivalent of a first-year philosophy major! And, also, he’s evil.”

“Now you’re just exaggerating.”

“He corrupts Dorian to the point of actual murder!” 

“Basil would have bored him to murder years before, let’s not lie to ourselves.” 

Rand pressed his hands together and took a deep breath. Mat observed his struggle and laughed. 

“Look, all I’m saying is, would you rather be with Basil...” at this, he gestured to Perrin, who was lying on his bed with noise-canceling headphones on and a pillow over his face, “...or Lord Henry,” Mat concluded, pointing to himself. 

Rand twisted his nose. “What? Ew. Don’t make me answer that. Perrin is my friend.” 

Mat adopted a wounded expression. “And I’m not?”

“Not what?”

“Your friend!” 

“No. I mean, yes. I mean… you’re…” Rand stumbled. “It’s… it’s not the same thing.” 

Mat grinned smugly. “Right. Because you would rather be with Henry than Basil. Obviously.” 

Rand’s first thought was that they had progressed to something beyond 19th century literature, although he wasn’t quite sure what. His second thought was that, even though Mat was unforgivably wrong, it was fun to argue with him, and not in the least because the look in his eyes when he thought he was winning did funny things to Rand’s head. Both thoughts struck him like lightning, but, before he had a chance to puzzle either out, a pillow went flying through the room and hit Mat square in the face. 

From the bed, Perrin grumbled, “This is why I moved out.” 

.

Rand never should have let Mat drag him to this party. He was uncomfortable here, out of place in his black Asha’man hoodie amongst all these people with their glamorous clothes and music he’d never heard before. At least Mat looked normal. Well, no, that was a lie. Mat’s clothes had been normal, yes—simple black jeans and a deep green shirt—though Mat himself had looked anything but. Rand was used to seeing his friend in old trousers and hoodies that clearly hadn’t seen a washing machine in their lives. There was something strange, something almost frightening, about seeing him looking so… different. Not that Rand was seeing much of him; Mat had disappeared fifteen minutes ago, and Rand had been wandering awkwardly around ever since, trying to find him. 

“Hey!” 

Rand turned to see a girl perhaps his own age grinning up at him. Her red dress looked more like a ballgown and her strawberry blonde hair fell over her shoulders like waves. Her smile widened as he met her eyes. 

“I’m Elayne!” she called over the music. “I haven’t seen you before!” 

“I’m Rand. I haven’t been here before.” He lowered his head, trying to be heard without yelling. “Have you seen Mat Cauthon?”

A knowing look glinted in her eyes and she folded her arms. “Mat? Are you another one of his poor conquests?”

Rand’s eyes widened. “No! He’s—I mean—we’re just friends. But he dragged me here and now I can’t find him.” 

Elayne was still looking at him suspiciously, but she shrugged and her smile turned sympathetic. “You probably won’t. It’s hard to find anyone at these things, let alone someone like Mat.” She placed a hand on his arm. “Good luck, though!” 

“Thanks,” Rand muttered, eyes scanning the crowd. Surely it couldn’t be that hard to find him? Elayne lingered a moment longer, then laughed at something or other and swished away. Rand glanced at her as she left, and, as his eyes drifted away again, he noticed a woman walking. She was tall, maybe as tall as Rand, and handsome. Her eyes were like crystals and there were silver threads running through her long yellow braid. She looked like someone out of a legend. And she was leading Mat by the hand. 

Rand watched them disappear around the corner and, for a moment, there seemed to be no air in the room. His stomach dropped; his chest felt tight; he felt as though his lungs were filling with water. Rand didn’t know why, but suddenly he knew that he had to get out. Pushing through the crowd, he fumbled his way to the front door and, nearly kicking it open in haste, spilled onto the street. He took deep gulps of the cool night air, but his chest felt tight as ever, lungs as strained as before. The music rang in his ears. Covering them with his hands, Rand began to walk. His eyes were fixed on the ground, on the blurry image of his shoes on the pavement, and he soon found himself at the library. It was a comforting sight. Rand slipped inside, picked a book at random, and collapsed into a chair. The book was something vaguely Aes Sedai-related. Not that it mattered; the words swam and blurred when he tried to read. 

Letting his head fall on the table, Rand tried to summon the flame and void, but neither would come. He closed his eyes. 

.

When Rand woke up, head swimming and eyes hurting, for some reason, it was nearly four in the morning. Shaking himself awake, he closed the book and left the building. He was halfway back to his dorm when he saw someone sitting alone on the Green. No, not someone. Mat. 

Rand flinched and tried to walk faster, but he made the mistake of glancing back. Mat was watching him. Rand bit back a groan; it would be rude, he knew, to keep going, but he really didn’t want to see Mat right now, not when he had probably just gotten back from being with that girl. He wasn’t sure why that bothered him, but, Light, it did. Nonetheless, he found himself turning, his feet carrying him to his friend. Mat’s gaze never left him as he approached. As Rand neared, he could see that Mat had kicked off his shoes, loosened his collar. His sleeves were rolled up, and there was an empty bottle of wine lying on the grass beside him. Rand thought he was probably drunk, and felt a wash of guilt for almost leaving him here. He came to a stop, standing over Mat, and looked down at him. 

“You were going to walk away,” Mat said, slurring his words only slightly. 

“No.” 

“You were.” Rand moved to protest again, but Mat continued over him, “Do you think I’m a whore?” 

Rand blinked. Frowned. Sat down. Eloquently said, “What?” 

“Do you think I’m a whore?” Mat paused a moment, as though expecting an answer, but then waved his hand dismissively. “No, wait, don’t answer that. You do.” 

Rand’s frown deepened. “No, I don’t. Why would you say that?” 

Mat smiled. “When you saw me here, what did you think? Did you think I’d just come from someone’s room?” Rand didn’t answer, and Mat’s smile widened, but it wasn’t a happy sort of smile. “There you go.” 

This felt unfair. Rand defended himself, “But, before, you were… I mean, that girl at the party…” 

Confusion pulled Mat’s brows together, before his face suddenly cleared. “You mean Birgitte? The tall one?” He wrinkled his nose. “Birgitte is my best friend, Rand. I would never—ew. No. That would be like… like you and Perrin. Gross.” 

“Gross,” Rand agreed, not knowing why he felt like the world had just been lifted from his shoulders. “So, where was she taking you?” 

“To meet someone who liked me.” Mat shrugged. “Didn’t like him back. Which was a problem, apparently.” His face darkened and he pulled his knees to his chest. “People always assume that I’ll be down to do anything with anyone. I know that I flirt a lot, and I know I’m not exactly a beacon of chastity, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have standards, or that I don’t ever have better things to do with my time. Light, but I can’t go one day without everyone assuming the worst of me! Everyone! Even the way Professor Tylin looks at me, sometimes, like—” He cut himself off with a shudder. 

Rand felt guilty all over again, not to mention deeply concerned about whatever Mat had stopped himself from saying, but there was so much to unpack in Mat’s rant and only one thing was pressing forward, blazing in his mind, that he needed to convey. “Mat, I don’t think you’re a- a whore. I never have, and I never will.” 

Mat studied him, and there was something guarded and vulnerable in his eyes. “Sure about that?” 

Rand nodded. He shifted so that he was sitting cross-legged, facing Mat, and met his friend’s eyes. “I… I had ideas about who you were before I met you, based on what other people said. Including about this. I tried not to. But I did. But,” he continued quickly, reaching out to grip Mat’s hands before he could turn away, “I was wrong about you. I figured that much out on the first day. And, every day since then, you’ve continued to surprise me. There’s so much more to you than what people say, and I—I really like it. You. I really, really like you.”  

“Could you tell Nynaeve that?” Mat murmured distractedly. He was looking at Rand like something he’d never seen before. “She thinks the rumors are an accurate reflection of my character.” 

“Rumors never get anything right,” Rand declared. “The only things you should be known for are your pitiful zombie-killing skills and your inability to do your own laundry.” 

Mat laughed, eyes crinkling at the corners, and toppled backwards onto the grass. Rand discovered that he had not actually let go of Mat’s hands, because he quickly found himself falling with him. They lay there together, side by side, and Rand thought he could just about make out Venus amongst the stars. Not that he was looking. Beside him, he heard Mat’s breaths slow and grow even; he had fallen asleep. Rand looked at him and felt a smile threatening to take over his face, although there was no real reason to smile. He gazed at Mat for a short while longer, but sleep was quick to claim him, too, and his last thought was that he still had yet to release Mat’s hands.

.

Something changed, after that. Something had shifted that night, or perhaps the following morning, when Rand had woken up to see Mat’s startled face gazing back at him. Mat had scrambled up, babbled an apology and a command to never take drunk-Mat seriously, and run off to his dorm. Rand, perplexed, had wandered back to his own dorm, and they had met again the following day for their usual tutoring session. They had played Plants vs Zombies afterwards, as usual, and Rand let Mat struggle with the Dracula zombie for thirteen minutes before smugly offering his assistance, and they carried on as they always had. But something had changed. Rand just wasn’t sure what. 

He didn’t have time to dwell on it, either. Exams were just around the corner, and soon Rand was seeing less and less of Mat as they were both swept away in piles of notes and highlighters. He found himself anxious for the exams to end, not just to bring an end to the stress, but, importantly, to bring an end to this period of being away from Mat. He mentioned this to Perrin, once, and received a long-suffering groan and a pillow to the face. 

Finally, though, Rand’s exams were over, and, not long after that, he was sitting in front of his laptop and waiting for that fateful email to pop up with his grades. Any minute now… any minute… 

Perrin leaned over his shoulder and laughed. “What are you worried about? You’re going to be top of your class, as always.” 

His words were punctuated by the ding of an incoming email. Rand yelped and clicked the link. Perrin scanned the screen over his shoulder, grinning, and ruffled Rand’s hair. “Told you so.” 

“Shut up,” Rand murmured half-heartedly. Then his eyes widened and he sprang to his feet. “Light, Mat! His’ll be out, too!” 

He felt Perrin’s eyes on him as he rushed to pull his shoes on. “Think he’ll have done well?” 

“I think he’ll have done great,” Rand puffed out, managing to get one shoe on. “He’s really improved a lot since—ouch—since we started.” He began to struggle with the second shoe. 

Perrin folded his arms. “Since the deal, you mean.” 

Rand, both shoes on, froze in place. Slowly, he straightened. “Yes. Since the deal.” 

“If he’s done well, which I don’t doubt he has… you ready for that date?”

Rand gave him a weak smile. “Why not? It’s just a date, right?” 

“Right,” Perrin echoed. “Just a date.” 

Rand looked at him for a moment, and then grabbed his phone and headed for the door. As it swung shut behind him, he could hear Perrin scoff and repeat, “Just a date.” 

Pushing Perrin and his cryptic looks from his mind, Rand raced down the stairs and onto the pavement. He turned the corner in full sprint, and caught only a glimpse of wide brown eyes before he slammed into Mat, sending them both tumbling to the ground. 

Rand scrambled to his feet. “Oh, Light, I’m sorry! You alright?” 

“Yep,” Mat groaned, scowling up at him. Rand helped him up. 

“So? What did you get?” 

At this, Mat’s scowl disappeared, overtaken by a broad grin. He flashed his phone in Rand’s face. “I’m fifth in my class! Would’ve been fourth, but that bastard Talmanes beat me out—well, I’m not really mad at him, Talmanes is too adorable to be mad at.” 

Rand beamed and pulled him into a hug. “Fifth! That’s incredible!” He pulled away and folded his arms. “I knew you just needed incentive.” 

Mat’s grin suddenly turned sly. “Yeah, well, speaking of incentives…” 

“Yes, the date, I remember. Is that still on?”

“A deal’s a deal, my friend.” 

Rand sighed theatrically. “Fine. Tonight?” 

“Meet me here at eight.” With that, he turned on his heel and left. 

Rand shook his head and checked his watch. It was five. More than enough time. Right?

.

“Rand, for fuck’s sake, it’s five minutes to eight!” 

“I know, I know! Just help me decide which shirt—”

“It literally does not matter!” Perrin dragged a hand down his face. “You know, for just a date, you’re really putting a lot of effort into this.” 

Rand glared at him. “I always put effort into things.” 

“Of course you do,” Perrin deadpanned. “Look, it doesn’t matter what you wear. He’s not going to like you any less.” 

“What? Who said anything about him liking me? I’m just trying to look decent for a night out.” 

Perrin groaned and shook his head. “You—he—I—” He gave a little, defeated sigh and flopped into a chair. “The red shirt. Just… wear the red shirt.” 

Rand smiled; he’d been leaning towards that option, too. “Alright. Thanks, Perrin.” 

Perrin muttered something under his breath, but Rand wasn’t listening. He pulled the shirt on, ran a hand through his hair, and rushed for the door, arriving outside his dorm at eight on the dot. Surprisingly, Mat was there already, wearing the green shirt from the party. Rand stumbled slightly; they must have put in an extra step when he wasn’t looking. 

“You dressed up,” Mat smirked. 

“So did you.” 

Rand thought Mat’s ears went a little pink, but that might have been the dusk light. They began to walk. Mat took him to a lively bar in the heart of the town. The people there seemed to know him well; as they approached, the bartender smiled broadly, eyes flitting between them. “I see you’ve done well in your exams, lad.” 

Mat rolled his eyes. “You say that like you doubted me, Thom.” 

“Every step of the way,” Thom said cheerily. His eyes fell on Rand. “Although, if you’d brought him in before, I might have reconsidered your chances.” He nodded to Rand. “Nice to finally meet you. Young Mat here never stops talking about—”

“Okay!” Mat broke in loudly. “Thanks for that, Thom! Drinks, now, please!” 

Thom placed two bottles on the counter and went away, laughing to himself. 

“Wait, we didn’t get to order,” Rand frowned, but Mat shushed him, pushing one bottle towards him. 

“I’ve been planning this for months,” he explained, smiling around his own bottle. “Drink up.” 

So Rand drank, and they talked, and about an hour and a half later he stood, feeling slightly light-headed and extremely confused as to how they had reached this point in the night. ‘This point’ being that Mat was currently standing on top of the bar, on one leg, juggling five, no, six empty bottles. Only three or four were theirs, Rand thought; the others were donated by other patrons eager to see Mat juggle them. This sort of thing was normal here, apparently. Rand wondered if this was what Mat had been planning for months, or if he was just doing what he liked, now. Knowing Mat, either could very well be the case. 

Not that Rand minded any of this; he had become entranced in watching Mat. At first, it had been the sheer anxiety that had drawn him in—those were glass bottles, for the love of the Light!—but somewhere along the way he had forgotten about the bottles, and was now solely fixated on watching Mat. There wasn’t a shred of concentration on his face; he was smiling lazily, eyes drifting around the room like juggling six glass bottles was the easiest thing in the world. His leg was wobbling slightly, but Rand could see no sign of imbalance beyond that. He was framed and backlit by the bar, by dim lights of shifting colors and rows of old bottles stacked on their sides. Rand watched him as he tossed the bottles high into the air; watched as he brought them all back down and handed them to Thom; watched as he took three low, sweeping bows and leapt off the bar; watched as he approached Rand with a flushed face and gleaming eyes. 

“I bet that Basil Hallward would’ve disapproved of that,” Mat said, breathless, because he was still on about that, burn him, and Rand really, really wanted to kiss him. 

So he did. 

It was nice when Mat kissed back. It was nice to taste the wine on his lips, to feel his fingers in Rand’s hair. It was nice, but it wasn’t until they parted—when Mat stared at him with eyes so wide, when the smile he gave Rand was uncharacteristically shy and sweet, and when he moved in again, not for a kiss, but press their heads together and stay there—that Rand knew this was it for him. 

And then Mat snorted and whispered, “Lord Henry wins,” and Rand shoved him to the floor and left him there to laugh by himself. 

.

Five Years Later

Perrin was right. 

Well, Perrin is usually right, but, for the love of the Light, did he have to be right about this? 

Rand is standing at the altar. Perrin, his best man, is standing beside him. Birgitte, Mat’s best woman, is there, too. Everything is in order, except that there is a big Mat-sized gap where Mat should be. Perrin can already feel a headache coming on. It’s growing stronger by the minute. In the pews, people are beginning to whisper. Rand, for his part, is standing with his eyes closed, most likely having disappeared into the void, leaving Perrin to cope with this anxiety on his own. Typical. 

And then the doors burst open. People turn in their seats; Rand opens his eyes; Perrin’s headache reaches a crescendo. Mat stumbles in. 

He is yelling, as always. “Sorry, I’m sorry, there was a—I lost my shirt for a while, and then—I just—I couldn’t get my damn shoes on—” He continues in this fashion all the way up the aisle, and Perrin resists the urge to bang his head again the nearest pillar. The Light save them all. 

The Wheel turns twice before Mat finally, finally reaches the altar, and then he rocks on his heels and flashes the most shit-eating grin Perrin has ever seen. “Sorry, Rand,” he whispers. “I got bored waiting for this thing to begin, so I started watching Brooklyn 99… and I just lost track of time…” 

How this man is getting married is a mystery Perrin doesn’t even want to solve. 

Then Rand starts laughing quietly, and Mat smiles at him like he’s just pinned the stars to the sky, and Perrin thinks, oh, that’s how. 

He finds himself smiling with them. His friends are chaotic and dumb, but they are his friends, and he loves them, and he’s happy for them—

“I still can’t believe you agreed to marry me if I topped grad school,” Mat murmurs. 

“Incentives,” Rand teases back. 

Fuck it. Perrin wants to go home.

.

[Read more mat/rand drabbles here!]

[uldren-sov]

meeting

SHE CALLED I JUST ANSWERED

Nioven belongs to @makeramidying and they were kind of enough to let me do this with my kind of first serious attempt at writing after a bunch of shit so i apologize if im a bit rusty Elora is mine <3

summary: Jedi and Sith fight and have fun doing it :) warning for violence

The Jedi raised her white blade high over her head with a deflection as Elora caught and allowed herself to skid into a wide stance and to a halt just some twenty feet in front of her. No matter what her soldiers had called her, the Jedi before her was certainly no Knight.

“You deserve a raise,” she called out suddenly. She felt her lips curl, unbidden, into a half-cocked grin as her foe’s own twitched and she had to fight the smile off as well.

“I’d say tell them that, but I doubt it’d really help things!” The Mirialan re-positioned herself and fixed the grip on her saber. There was a fire in her eyes, in her strikes and moves that Elora could not help but, as a fighter, be drawn to. There was a pride behind every one of the Jedi’s swings, she could see the righteous wrath that fueled her as clear as day. Elora recognized that drive, that anger, that burn for an engagement to prove something - maybe not to anyone else but herself. She recognized it because she saw it every day when she looked in the mirror, felt it every moment she fought.

She panted softly as she spun her blades, once, one after the other, in her hands and started to circle casually around her. The Jedi’s version of Juyo - as her opponent was using - was stilted, almost defensive, it lacked the rawness to let go and utterly dominate the opponent. She could work with that and more to the point the Jedi knew she could as well.

She was being watched with the focus only a Jedi could muster, though - something that time and time again got her in trouble. A tilt to her head, a narrowing of her light eyes that pulled on the tattoos on her cheeks and she recognized the peacocking for what it was. As a result, she drew her foot out, made a line in the dirt, and stepped back, sinking back down into her stance - white blade high and reflecting off the white of her armor.

That’s the line, just try and cross it.

Elora took the taunt, extinguished her dual blades, and vanished. She watched as immediately the Jedi’s stance changed, a lower guard, a higher stance - one she can more readily react to a wide berth of attacks upon her. Any normal Knight might have been slow to adapt, she? She was certainly different, even as she closed her eyes to focus her senses now on just where Elora may be. She kept scanning the horizon, checking her blind spots with her mind.

She kept shrouded almost near to the end of her ability before she surged forward. A twist, a kick up, and while the Jedi may have been checking around her, she certainly did not check above. She she yelled with the effort as her focus broke and she appeared just above the Jedi, igniting her blades - about to neatly decapitate the Jedi from the spinning momentum with a slash from her mainhand. But the Jedi’s instincts were true as she had enough time to block the slash handily. Which Elora was counting on. She stabbed down with the second blade hoping to find purchase in her shoulder when the block, instead, was more of an overhead strike, deflecting both of the sabers away as she completed her twist and landed low.

She dodged a knee to her face and parried another overhead strike as she spun back up to her feet trying to follow up with a quick stab with the Jedi’s saber deflected before she just extended her leg and caught Elora in the stomach. A tight exhale as she let the pain suffuse through her, starting another flurry of strikes but every one was systematically beaten back with the double-handed strength of her own or by the Jedi getting too in her face to strike her effectively in the first place.

After minutes of a rampant affair her arms were burning, she saw the sweat dripping off of her opponent’s olive-green complexion, as finally their blades caught and sparked with the sudden stalemate. She breathed through a fierce grin as the grim, scarred, countenance of the Jedi similarly just had to smile. They were warriors, that shared fire burned in both of them, and this? This was a hell of a blaze.

She took a gamble.

She suddenly shifted to the side, deflecting the saber off of her own two as the Jedi was set off balance. She could quickly cut back up through - she had her opening, but instead extinguished her blades, and - using the Jedi’s own leg as a perch spun to catch a hooking heel to the side of her face. She saw the sudden reversed grip on the blade as the Jedi caught her foot and absorbed most of the damage as she was sent rolling just a couple feet onto the dirt.

She didn’t use the chance to quickly follow up and in seeing the Jedi in that last moment - she could have easily just pointed her hilt her way, ignited it, and probably ran her through somewhere vital if she had so chosen to. But they didn’t. Neither of them did.

Instead they had space between them now, weapons off, and for a moment they just stared at each other, panting. She drew some hairs from her mouth as the Jedi pushed herself back up. The hair around them was electric with the promise of more carnage, more of a fight, more of this energy they both found they thrived off of. Even as the adrenaline and surge of aggression threatened to burn her until she was empty, Elora knew there was only so much farther a Jedi could go with such a style before threatening to lose something in themselves; or admit something they fought against.

So they stared each other down, caught their breath, and allowed for the dust to finally settle on the battlefield.

“Do you yield, Sith?” the Jedi called. She was the first one to speak, gulping back a breath as she kept the hilt of her white saber at the ready, blade ready to be ignited once more. Elora looked between the hilt, and those light, fierce, eyes of her opponent.

“Do you?” she questioned simply. It was a good fight, it would be a shame to destroy something that gave her such pleasure in fighting - the fierce, wide, smile still hadn’t left her face. There was a huff of something like laughter from the Jedi as she just shook her head.

“No fucking way,” she challenged. Damn, if that wasn’t enough to make her want to go for round two but - they were both unfit to continue in the fashion they wanted to.

“You’re such a good sport. I’d hate to destroy you now,” she replied. Her own hilts were warm in her hands; heavy, as well.

“Then I believe we are at an impasse,” the Jedi concluded.

There was a beat and at once they both, at the same time, returned their hilts to their belts.  The Jedi heaved a sigh and flipped her braid off of her shoulder as Elora ran her hand through her hair, pushing it back.

“What’s your name, Jedi?”

“Nioven,” she said after a moment, brushing the dirt off of her white armor as she stood tall, kept her chin raised. Proud, fierce, beautiful, Elora clicked her tongue and shook her head - good fighters are always wasted on the Jedi. “Yours?”

“Darth Aesis,” she said. After a moment she gave a sharp nod to Nioven “you may call me Elora. Nioven, you would be such a force to be reckoned with if the Jedi did not hold you back. Literally and figuratively, I imagine,” she said. It usually fell on deaf ears but she saw the annoyance of being called a Knight, the frustration in some of her strikes.

“Yeah, sure,” Nioven nodded somewhat then stared her right in the face, “but at what cost? If this is some line, I’m definitely not biting Aes - I mean - Elora. Sorry.”

“A shame,” and she meant that. There was a quick tightening of Nioven’s lips, a quick look away, maybe she was more onto something than she intended. “If that is indeed the case, you should know this will not happen again.”

“Yeah ... I know,” Nioven replied with a setting of her jaw and a fierce nod of finality. “It seems bad form to wish a Sith, especially a Darth, good luck but, uh. Maybe instead I can say: I hope to see you again, Elora. Definitely.” That fire ignited behind her eyes, one last fight, where one of them does not walk away from it.

“And I hope to never see you again,” she countered. She smirked a little and turned away, “it’ll be a damn waste for me to kill you when that time comes. The Jedi still need to find some way to keep this war interesting!” She called without turning around and heard the soft laughter from behind her.

War did, indeed, make for some interesting encounters afterall.

[chaz-targrin-gw2]

Targrin, Act 5: Induction

(Well, it’s been a fun few weeks sharing these stories to you, but the Targrin arc is almost at an end! Following a disastrous night out at Redreave Mill, Chaz and the Grins - @pocket-raptor​‘s Maurus and Atlas, and @murellow-farts​‘ Clovis - hit the bar to decompress. Thanks for sticking with me through this story series!)

NAVIGATION: <- Previous Chapter | This is the final chapter!

Targrin, Act 5: Induction

1329 AE, Black Citadel, Ascalon

(An hour after the events of Act 4)

The Grins’ legionnaire was enjoying a quiet night to himself at the bar. Wait… was it night? How long had he been… Whatever, it was dark out, most of the other patrons had left, he had some peace and quiet to himself for now, he might as well enjoy-

“EY, Bossman!” the voice almost resonated throughout the tavern.

The legionnaire turned his head just slightly, he didn’t need to look to figure out who owned that voice. “…Atlas. What brings you here at… What time is it?”

“Good morning to you too, sir.” Atlas chuckled, taking a seat at the bar, as Maurus followed closely behind. “Nice timing, we have some news! I was gonna save it for tomorrow but while we’re here…”

“It had better be damn good news, I’m on my last drink for the night, I don’t have the cash for any… actually scratch that, it had better be damn okay news, I’m not buying you lot drinks to celebrate.”

“Not to worry, I’m already buying a round for three other folks, I can buy one for you too.”

The legionnaire cracked a smile. “Alright, if ‘free drinks’ is the news, I’m happy to… “ He paused, counting the heads unsteadily. “Wait. Three other folks? There’s just you and Maurus, and Maurus and…  and Maurus.”

“Hang on, hang on, I’m the one you’re supposed to be seeing three of!” came another voice from the doorway. Clovis trotted in, with Chaz tagging along behind her.

The legionnaire looked back at Atlas and Maurus. “…Oh right, you, Maurus and Clovis. And… who’s he?”

Clovis put her hand on Chaz’s shoulder and shook them excitedly, which elicited a pained squeak from the smaller charr. “We looted a potential ‘bandmate!”

Atlas shook his head. “Nonono, that’s, uh. We have someone who wants to join our warband.”

“Hah!” the legionnaire scoffed. “That’s a new one. Someone actually volunteering to join this bunch?”

Clovis gently nudged Chaz towards the bar. The legionnaire rubbed his eyes and took a closer look. “…He’s got no claws. He’s so small. How old is he?”

“They,” Clovis started, making a point to correct the legionnaire, “turn twenty-six next month. I know they look small and soft and cuddly, and that’s… because they are, but you can check in with Tribune Goreblade yourself, they’re twenty-five, they’ve been registered as a gladium for a few months, and they were keen on joining us.”

Chaz finally spoke up, raising a nubby paw-hand. “Y…yes. Is it alright if I join your warband, sir?” They squirmed a bit, struggling to get up onto the barstool next to the legionnaire. They yawned a bit, looking over at the bartender. “Uh, I’ll have an amber ale. Please.”

The Legionnaire was taken aback, and tried to maintain a more professional tone of voice, despite being fairly drunk. “…If… If what Clovis is saying is right, you’re a bit older than the others. …You’re not in trouble for anything, are you?”

Chaz looked back towards the legionnaire, looking unsure. “I… don’t know? If it hadn’t been for Atlas I’d probably be in the stockades instead of the tavern right now. But once word gets out of what happened I doubt very many warbands will want me.”

Confused, the legionnaire looked to the other Grins for further explanation.

“We might’ve been over at the Redreave Mill. I was showcasing their combat prowess to a few other legionnaires, in the hopes of getting them into a warband. They’re a crack shot with the rifle, you should’ve seen them in action. They used a wounded Separatist as bait to lure out others and take ‘em out. They even made one’s head explode!”

“Really? This lil fella? I doubt he- …they… know how to hold a rifle.” The legionnaire scoffed, moving to pat Chaz on the shoulder.

Chaz huffed a bit, and took a swig of their ale. “Atlas, do you still have that rifle?”

“Uh… yeah, here. It’s not loaded.” He walked around and handed Chaz the rickety, bandaged-up rifle. Chaz took it gently, holding it up to their shoulder in a firing stance, finger off of the trigger.

“Well, there’s no scope on this, so I wouldn’t be able to trajectorize as easily… it’s also in really poor shape, unsurprising, given the last owner was a bastard…” A brief pause, Chaz lowered the rifle from their shoulder, shook it gently, then quickly pulled back the bolt, a slightly rusted bullet springing out of the magazine and landing on the floor with an audible ‘clink’. “…The bolt-action’s sticking with me a bit… oh, and it was loaded, but it’s empty now, thank you Atlas.” They held the rifle back out to him.

Atlas coughed, slightly embarrassed. “You can hold onto it. You seem to know your way around that thing better than I do, I nearly shot Maurus with it.”

“Oi!” Maurus grumped, glaring at Atlas. “I’ve had enough of that for one morning.”

“I stand firmly corrected,” the legionnaire grumped. “So why… what happened that the other bands won’t take you?”

“I nearly shot Maurus,” Chaz mumbled.

“They nearly shot Maurus,” Atlas and Clovis chimed in.

“They nearly shot me,” Maurus confirmed, giving Atlas another glare. “In that case though it was partly my fault.”

“Okay… Okay back up a little bit, I’m gonna need more information on that. What happened?”

“Well,” Maurus coughed, “I might have walked down into an active firing range without warning the shooter - that’d be Chaz.”

“Yeah,” Atlas countered, “But when I realised you were going down that way I tried to warn Chaz, and they were…”

“I was lost,” Chaz piped up, finishing Atlas’ sentence, “I’d assumed everything I was aiming at was… was a… I mean, it wasn’t until Atlas knocked me off of the mounted rifle that I realised what had almost happened.”

The legionnaire nodded, humming pensively. “So… you’re a good sniper but you have difficulty differentiating targets? You had your eyes tested recently?”

“Eyesight’s fine, it’s just… I mean… I was sort of taken by a strange mood… like… I just saw… I…” They started stammering again, taking slow, shaky breaths.

“They’re suffering from battle fatigue, sir,” Atlas piped up, putting a hand on Chaz’s shoulder gently to try and help them calm down. “We never got around to explaining where we found them.”

The Legionnaire tilted his head. “Clovis said something about looting a ‘bandmate but aside from that, no, you haven’t explained yet.”

“Alright, well you remember a couple of weeks ago you asked us to go over to Ebonhawke and fuck about with some Separatists?”

“‘Disrupt Separatist activity in and around Ebonhawke’ was the official order, soldier. But yes, I left it to you three to decide how to proceed.”

Atlas leaned over, whispering to Chaz. “See what I mean?” No response. “…Sorry.”

“I haven’t gotten your report back about that yet, by the way, how’d that go?”

“Well, we discovered a makeshift Separatist camp up in the Sniper’s Woods, and Clovis suggested we loot the place after trashing it.”

“I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but good work. Gave those bastards a run for their money, yeah?”

“Yessir,” Atlas nodded, “While we were looting the place we found Chaz here. They were kind of… messed up when we got to them. They’d been tortured, used as bait to lure other Charr into a trap.” Still no response from Chaz, who was staring off into the distance, shivering. Atlas squeezed their shoulder gently. “C’mon Chaz, stay with us, you’re safe here.”

The Legionnaire huffed. “And you say they lost their warband?”

Atlas nodded grimly, still trying to help Chaz keep it together, “Yessir. This is Chaz Tarbound, from the Tar Warband, Iron Legion. They were in the area helping the humans with construction efforts, when they were ambushed by Separatists.”

“I see.” The legionnaire looked over to Chaz, his expression softened a little. “I’ve heard of Tar’s efforts around Ascalon, as well as their revolutionary turrets that were deployed in Orr. Deepest condolences, soldier. We’ll head out to the Plaza of Remembrance and raise a toast to them later. …They have been memorialized, yes?”

Chaz shivered a little, sniffling. They lowered their head, shoulders slumped, looking physically overburdened with guilt. That was as much an answer as the Legionnaire needed, and he frowned.

Eager to break the awkward silence, Atlas stood up. “Clovis, Maurus, keep an eye on Chaz, yeah? Make sure they get some food and drink in them, they could use something good right about now.” Atlas looked over to the legionnaire, and jerked his head in the direction of a spot away from the bar. “A word, sir?” The legionnaire nodded slowly, and followed Atlas over.

“So it’s… pretty bad, huh?” the legionnaire gruffed, once the two were out of earshot.

“That’s the thing, we’d rehearsed this marksmanship demonstration before and Chaz was perfectly fine - They’re an amazing shot, they’ve got some self-doubt about their abilities but they’re really good. That said, the reason they’re here is kind of… my fault. I guess I underestimated what the Separatists had done to them emotionally.”

“So after they suffered so much at the hands of Separatists, you figured the best thing to do was expose them to more Separatists.”

“Yeah, that was… a mistake. I figured they could be done with some revenge, but they sort of… lost themselves, kind of like what’s happening right now. You can probably see why the other warbands won’t take them.”

“I see… I think I might have an idea of where this one could be useful.”

“Oh thank fuck, because I’ve been running on fumes for the past few minutes and I’m fresh out of ideas.”

“Not to worry,” the legionnaire chuckled, heading back over to check on Chaz, who had buried their head in their arms, hiccuping quietly. “Clovis, Maurus, How’s our new member holding up?”

“I dunno,” Maurus shrugged, “We got them talking again and things seemed fine, but then they just broke down sobbing and apologising over and over. Maybe giving them booze right now was a bad idea?”

Clovis had a hand on Chaz’s shoulder, giving them a reassuring rub. “Nahhhh, I think loosening the valve on the waterworks is helping… Wait, did you just say ‘new member’?” She looked up at the Legionnaire and then back down at Chaz, whose head slowly lifted back up - they were a sight for sore eyes after all that crying, but they looked as surprised as the others did.

“Well, not officially yet, but I’ll be getting in touch with Tribune Goreblade to let him know I’m recruiting Chaz here into our ranks. I just wanted to ask you something first, Chaz, and I understand if it’s hard to answer.”

Chaz sniffled and hiccuped a bit more, but nodded. “Y-yes, sir?”

“When you were in Tar Warband, what were your off-field duties?”

Some confusion from Chaz. “What do you mean off-field?”

“Anything you did back at your barracks, stuff that doesn’t involve building or sharpshooting. Both are valuable skills, of course, I just wanted to know what else you did.”

“Oh! Umm… I helped take stock of our supplies, wrote up requisitions for more materials when we needed them… Desk jobs, paperwork and bureaucracy really.”

“Ahh, yes,” the legionnaire chuckled. “The eternal battle to get through all of that red tape, right?”

“Actually, if I’m to be honest, I kind of enjoyed that side of the work.” Chaz laughed lightly, still sniffling.

The Grins looked at each other, and then to their Legionnaire, sharing an expression that was summed up by the Legionnaire’s next word: “…What.”

“…What?” Chaz tilted their head. “It was nice. It was actually… kind of relaxing after a long day of marching and carrying stuff back and forth, or after my guard shifts with the rifle. Actually made me feel kind of important, too. With a bit of know-how and a few strokes of a pen, I could get anything you need delivered to you in good time.”

Yet another flabbergasted look shared between the rest of the Charr. “You… you’d actually be happy to do our paperwork for us? Shit, what have I been drinking?”

“You’ve been drinking my wallet dry,” Atlas snarked, as he forked out the change for another round of drinks.

Wiping the tears away from their face, Chaz smiled, a soft, heart-melting smile. “If… if that’s what your warband needs, I’d be more than happy to help out.”

“Well then, I’d be more than happy to-”

“Wait, wait, I’m not finished,” Chaz interrupted, that adorable little smile spreading a bit further into an expression of unbridled gratitude, “Your warband saved my life. They did their best to help me find a new warband. You offered to take me in when nobody else would.”

“It’s nothing, really, we just-”

“I can do a lot more than just handle your paperwork for you. What if I told you I’d be willing to go the extra mile?”

The legionnaire blinked. “…Go on.”

“Oh, it’s nothing major, just that you mentioned having difficulty with red tape?”

“Yes?”

“It so happens that over the three years I served with Tar, one of my old bandmates taught me a few tricks to cut through the bureaucratic crap, save time, save money, you know.” Without even changing their expression, they lowered their voice just so the barkeep wouldn’t hear. “…Exploiting loopholes, basically.” A wink to seal the deal.

The legionnaire, still trying to process this all, approached Chaz, sitting back down at the bar and taking another swig of booze. “I’m still convinced I’m drunk and imagining all of this, but… welcome to the Grin warband, soldier. Better to get that out of the way now than later when I’m hung over.”

A chuckle between the Grins.

“And don’t worry, I’m not just shuffling you into a desk job. You may still perform field work with the other Grins, and I’d recommend it so you can keep your marksmanship in practice, but you are under no pressure to do so.”

“Thank you, sir. I think as long as I have someone keeping an eye on me I’ll be fine.” Chaz nods, having finally calmed down and cheered up.

“There is one other matter we need to see to before I wrap up this impromptu meeting,” the legionnaire continued. “Your name. You’re a Grin now, have you thought of a name for yourself?”

“Uhh… “ Chaz pondered.

“Bluntgrin, ‘cause you’ve got no claws!” Clovis offered.

“Grinbolt, because you’re damn good with that bolt-action rifle,” Atlas pondered.

“Pengrin, if you’re as good at tackling paperwork as you say,” Maurus mused.

Chaz shook his head. “No, no… I can’t make up my mind… argh.” They tapped their temple a bit. “C’mon, Chaz, think…”

“Targrin,” the Legionnaire stated flatly, much to Chaz’s surprise. “Your old warband clearly meant a lot to you,” he explained, “When you talked about your time working with them earlier, you looked… happy. It’s a bloody shame the Tribune hasn’t memorialized them in the Plaza, so the least I can do is let you carry their name with you. If you want, no pressure.”

“I… yeah.” Chaz looked down at the floor. “Ever since the day I lost them, it hurts… far more than any blade or bullet. But when I think about the time I spent working with them, it…” They sniff a bit again. “It’s nice.”

“Hey hey hey, I didn’t mean to start up the waterworks again.”

“No, no, it’s alright.”

“Give it a try. Repeat after me. ‘Hello, My name is Chaz Targrin’.”

“H-hello. My name is Chaz… Targrin.”

“Again.”

“Hello, my name is Chaz Targrin.” A chuckle. “It’s got a ring to it.”

“Once more!”

“Hello! My name is Chaz Targrin!” he laughed. “Yeah, yeah, I like it!”

The Grins cheered, and rose a mug in toast to their new bandmate… Much to the misery of Atlas’ wallet.

[baekzhang]

our days | pt.1

shin hoseok. reader-insert. 3,2k words. au. fluff/angst

—yesterday he was a stranger, today he is your friend, by tomorrow he’ll be so much more

‘It’s on the house,’ he stated nonchalantly and you nodded, chinking bottles and taking a sip of the bitter fortune.

‘But why are you sitting next to me?’ you couldn’t help but question and he chuckled jovially, putting his bottle on the counter and facing you now fully.

‘Look around, you’re my only guest left.’

for liv @heonseoks

                                                     yesterday

When you lose a friend, or at least things feel as if you’re in the middle of losing a friend, then life sucks. It’s an extremely painful process especially when you don’t have many friends to begin with. In fact, you had one. Exactly one. A good one, one that was with you for long, whom you entrusted with secrets; one with whom you cried and laughed and cried again because life gave you more negativity and therefore more reasons to cry. But when that friend was with you, you somehow went from crying in despair to crying because of joy. Yeah, it was that certain type of friend and that certain type of loss.

But it hurt more. Because technically you didn’t lose a friend, the friend was away and so you couldn’t even be mad at them for being gone because: hey, they are your friend, be happy for them and not a salt cellar. Hey, be glad your friend got such a great opportunity! Be grateful that they want to still keep in touch. And most importantly, don’t start to cry or say something against that opportunity because that friend values you so much they’d literally decline an offer from Oxford just so your petty and lonely little ass still had some company.

Three years, your friend would be gone for three years. And that was a damn long time. Being selfish was a daily form of being for you, and damn, you liked being selfish, but you would not forgive yourself if she rejected an offer from a prestigious university just because you were a failure when it concerned socialising, or more like, in your nineteen years of being you had only attracted idiots, who would talk crap behind your back first things you leave the door after having had kisses and hugs and overly sweet ‘goodbyes’ as if they actually cared for you. But she was different. And it sucked that she was going, and you weren’t.

You hadn’t had much of things to say when she knocked at the door to your room and tossed the still sealed letter to you. ‘We’ll open it together’ she said, ‘If I got rejected I need your shoulder to cry on’ she added. You had opened the envelope with a sigh, pulled out the letter with fear and excitement; opened and skimmed it to having your breath taken away: she was accepted. You had predicted it. She was clever after all, even though she declined all of such statements saying ‘there are cleverer people’ than her. There were, but you weren’t included in that tiny percentage.

‘Congratulations.’ It was the only thing you could bring over your lips. She was anticipating the words written in the letter with closed eyes and tightly pressed together lips. And once you muttered your well-wishes, her eyes shot open, and her mouth was ajar. Disbelief. The thought of attending a world top class university was appealing. But the thought it was only. Imagine actually going there. She couldn’t. She had a hard time digesting the information. You had, too.

‘What do you think of me…really going to Europe?’ Really going to Europe. It was like she was asking for a lie.

‘I’m happy for you.’ Half a lie. You were happy she wasn’t rejected, but you were unhappy she was accepted. And that didn’t make sense to any common logic, and even less so to yourself, so you kept to yourself and went with the natural thing to say.

She smiled. She would have smiled if you said something opposite to what you replied. You would have a grim line on your lips no matter the outcome. You would be sad if she left, if she stayed. Because if she left you’d have no friend to show up at 3 a.m to talk about your day. You would have no friend to eat lunch with. You would have no friend to pick you up from whatever place you ended up getting drunk at. If she stayed, she would have either gotten rejected and felt miserable about herself. Or you would have told her to not go and you’d be living your life thinking you limited your friend, and she’d live with the thought of ‘what if’, and really, you cared about her to spare her from those thoughts you kept having.

‘I have to sort out everything for the accommodation and the fees! And my visa, too!’ Sorting everything out takes time, time that you can’t spend with her. It was foolish and dumb and childish and much more, but you felt the friendship crumble right here and there. She was leaving. Or at least she was planning to, and this woman was notorious for fulfilling the plan she had set. So, yes, it was as if she had already departed.

Accommodation. She got that easily. One call, and it was all settled. Visa. She applied immediately, and she was certain she’d get a permit.

Smiles. You smiled a lot. Fake. That was what they were all. Your smile was fake, and you wanted to believe it for yourself that you were genuine. But it was a lie. And you knew that.

                                                           *

It was yet another day, a day in August—mid-August to be specific—and you were counting down the days till she would  leave. You hadn’t quite figured out what to do once she is gone. Would you try to look for other friends? Would you go out more, find people, who would certainly abuse you to watch their drinks and bags, only so they could go and amuse themselves, and the only sort of payment you’d receive was being present in one or two of their group pictures to somewhat hint that you belong to them, even though you and them perfectly knew that you didn’t. On the one hand, sure, it would make you focus on something else and you’d look less like a loner and loser, but you’d still feel like one. Was that worth it? Probably not. Would you do it, still? Probably yes.

‘Something’s on your mind, isn’t it?’ you took in the voice of your friend, ears perking up and your eyes gazing her straight in the eyes. With a shrug you replied, ‘Isn’t there always something on one’s mind?’ It wasn’t really an answer, and far away from polite and satiating, but you didn’t know how else to reply, or what other thing to tell her. The truth? Certainly not!

‘But there’s something on your mind that’s bothering you. And that isn’t always the case,’ she interjected, now more curious and worried than she was before. You released a sigh. When you hated one thing then it was getting caught, may it be you eating the last cookie, or you trying to borrow some money from your dad. In all concerns to the feeling, it was always the same: sweat would start appearing on your forehead, cold sweat. And you’d think way too long for an answer, raising the suspicion of your opposite even more so. Everything was meant to go down that way. Chemical processes in your body, hormones, emotions; current running through your body, and thoughts would flood your mind; your muscles would flex, hands clenched into fists—you’d spill the beans.

‘Fifteen days, Jeongae. Fifteen days,’ you repeated. The mere effort of five words, of which two have been repeated and the last one making your friend’s name, was exhausting. Not yet all has been spilt, but it was a matter of time. Answers and exposure would flee out of your mouth, and there was no way to help it. She raised an eyebrow.

‘Fifteen days?’ Another sigh, more emotions, the inner counter in your head changed the black numbers into alerting red ones. Nervosity forced your incisors to hammer against your lower lip, adding painful pressure on it that you ignored for that your mind was occupied with much more pain.

‘You’ll be gone in fifteen days, Ae! I was trying hard, okay? All the time I was thinking “how can I deal with this situation of my best and only friend leaving?”, and I haven’t gotten to the point of an answer yet. And it fucks me up. I was gonna try and live with it. Told myself “hey, it’ll be fine as ever, just go and look for other friends in the meantime and when she returns you have a big squad and are less of an idiotic loner with social awkwardness”. But it’s scary, Ae!’ Many words left your mouth, many emotions were released, many questions thrown into the room, and there she was sitting, cross-legged on your sofa with a smile on her lips and half-lidded eyes. What? What was all that about? You couldn’t understand. She was smiling for at least ten seconds before her lips moved again, and sounds were made—words, the sounds were words.

‘We promised to stay friends forever, right? The timezones might be different, but we can make it. After class we can FaceTime. I’ll send you letters and texts. I’ll visit you in semester breaks and on holidays. It will be alright. I promise.’ Your heart was beating fast at that moment, holding on the smile and the promise. In your mind you pictured everything, and your heart told you “it will be alright”. But the feeling in your gut told you that there was something else behind that smile, and you couldn’t yet decipher yet what it was about. And you knew that no matter if you made such query, the answer wouldn’t hold the truth. Time would solve that riddle, at least you told yourself that.

                                                              *

Fifteen days had passed. You were now standing at the airport in Seoul, sitting at the bench with your friend, who was chewing on a sandwich she bought at the airport. The flight was delayed for one sweet hour and you were holding onto her suitcase with the thought of running away, so she’d miss the flight. But your mind screamed “no”. Because she could easily take the next one, and you had told yourself last night—a sleepless night at that, too—that you’d trust her. She’ll call you when she arrived and will have WiFi. And you’d blindly believe in that because she wasn’t the type to lie to you.

‘Ah, you’re so quiet!’ she exclaimed and startled your train of thoughts, ‘Don’t forget, I’ll call you first things first. Not my parents, not my little brother. I will call you.’ She read your mind again.

The hour was so fast you could have sworn every minute was only five seconds. But surely it was an hour, and when she suddenly stood up from the bench and took the handle of the suitcase in her right hand, your heart began to play the symphony of fear and your breathings were the conductor, fast and heavy. This was it: she was leaving, for real.

‘Make sure to go out some in the next days. And don’t miss me too much,’ she laughed and you formed a sorrowful smile.

‘Yeah sure, will do. And I’ll try to get laid some, too!’ It was a joke that sounded way too serious, and by the time she vanished from your sight, you realised you were speaking the truth: you’d go out after all.

                                                              *

It took you two days to do so, though. The first day you spent with coffee and staring at your phone in anticipation to her texts and calls to which you answered within milliseconds, and damn, you looked needy. One ‘hi, how are you?’ received at least one essay worth of an answer.

Hey! I’m fine!

What about you?

How is Europe?

Have you eaten any exotic food?

EXOtic haha

Where are you?

Are you busy?

I’m not fine

Come back!

Don’t leave me hanging? :(

What if I die?

Hm, I’d be dead by now

Glad to know I mattered to you

I love you

LOVE ME

JEONGAE!

PLS

You laughed embarrassed at your screen when the answer of ‘Christ! I was just taking a shower, haha!’ appeared. Yeah, you were needy. And you were probably annoying her, even though you weren’t. But you still thought it. And that thought lit a fire in you that you titled ‘CHANGE’. Change your situation. With one look into your purse and spotting 100 000 won to spare for a day, you decided ‘yeah, I’ll go to a club’.

Your words turned out wrong when you ended up walking by a bar that almost looked cozy and didn’t harbour too many visitors that night. One drink, some hard liquor and then going back home sounded nice. Maybe you were lucky and there was the replay of some European Soccer League game was on the television. So you entered the bar and sat down on a stool, waiting for the bartender to serve you. And your eyes went big and possibly were on the precipice of plopping out. He was gorgeous. The bartender was handsome in every way you could imagine. You had a lot of mental pictures of your perfect looking man, and often those pictures looked like a mixture of Kim Junmyeon and Kim Jongin, but he was exceeding those divine pictures with his unholy appearance. His hair was dyed white, and the ends of his strands were coloured with striking blue that went to indigo and was far away from royal blue, for which you were thankful. You knew you were staring by the moment you thought about the exact shade of blue, but for the moment of utter trance and awe you couldn’t care less. He had to serve you even if you were gaping at him.

He simply smiled at you, and it was a perfect smile. Warm and welcoming and bright and it made your heart leap. Shit! You had to say something. You could watch his lips moving and his expression looked questioning, yet friendly. By far you weren’t schooled in labiomancy, but you casually assumed him to have asked what you wanted to drink, so you simply let two words jump over your lips: ‘Whiskey. Iced.’ And he nodded immediately, turned around and you inspected his back with unsteady breaths.

Broad shoulders. He was visiting the gym for sure, or trained at home. His arms weren’t too big. Not a bodybuilder, but his arms had just the right amount of training. It would have been a lie to say that you didn’t avert your look to gaze at his ass, which was round and his jeans looked like they were about to burst from how tight it was on him. And you were scared you’d look at his crotch once he turns around again. For sure he had a girlfriend, you thought. Or he was gay, that was also an option. And if he was single, why would he want anything from you? That last thought burned in your chest.

Despite the cold of the whiskey, the alcohol was like fire growing in your chest. The bartender was quick to hand you your drink, and you focused all the willpower you had in yourself to not look at what you wanted to look at. You were sipping on the liquor in disinterest, staring into the glass and the ice that was swimming in it. Anything to capture your attention to stop focusing on the bartender whose name you didn’t even know. He was there, mere metres apart, cleaning glasses and every now and then he’d catch a glimpse of to the tv screen. There was a soccer game on tv, you were lured in right: Premiere League, and Arsenal was losing, and that alone was perfection in itself. You wondered if Jeongae was watching, too. She was living in England now after all, and she might as well got tickets and is now in the crowd cheering for Liverpool just for the sake of Jürgen Klopp, if she was honest with herself. Your eyes were now glued to the television, watching Sánchez in his dumb red-white like ketchup and mayo jersey run toward the box, bringing himself into a shooting position and finally kicking the ball straight in the goal. You groaned, but heard the bartender laughing. You didn’t look anymore and downed a few sips, when you were suddenly face-to-face with a smiling handsome who whispered something that made your lips form into a bright smile: ‘Offside.’

He winked at you and took your now emptied glass and swept it with two bottles of beer, German beer to be exact. Krefelder, you noted and you wondered why he put those bottles there. But he was quick to return with something in between a smile and smirk, however no longer behind the bar, but rather sitting on the stool next to you. Immediately, you raised an eyebrow. But he just opened the bottles easily and shrugged.

‘It’s on the house,’ he stated nonchalantly and you nodded, chinking bottles and taking a sip of the bitter fortune.

‘But why are you sitting next to me?’ you couldn’t help but question and he chuckled jovially, putting his bottle on the counter and facing you now fully.

‘Look around, you’re my only guest left.’ And surely you were. There weren’t many people here when you entered the bar, but now even less; in fact only you and him with the name you didn’t know. ‘Might as well treat my guest,’ he announced and you smiled and whispered your thanks, ‘So…you like soccer? Well, obviously you do from what I’ve seen.’ You laughed with a nod.

‘Yes, I do. Since forever basically.’ His fingers were running along the thick glass of the beer bottle, swiping the droplets of dewing water away; and he was licking on his lips that looked so incredibly tempting for you to press you own against them.

‘Hm, favourite team or teams? And what leagues?’ That was an easy question.

‘Premier League, Bundesliga and La Liga. Occasionally, just for the sake of my dad, I also watch Ligue 1. As for teams…Hotspur, Dortmund, Atlético and Paris Saint-Germain.’ Your eyes were sparkling when you realised your answer curled his smile up even more.

‘Leicester, Dortmund, Atlético and Lyon.’ At least not Manchester United, you thought. You returned his smile, showed him your lockscreen with the Borussia Dortmund logo on it and together you just shouted Heja!, and more and more he earned points, and the previous thoughts of him not being interested in you weren’t just flames, it was hell. However, your mouth went dry with the urge to lick over your lips, slight sweat formed in your palms when he spoke next after a little while of bittersweet silence.

‘So pretty lady…what’s your name?’ And when you answered him, your name rolled delicately from his lips in a slight lisp, that was too adorable sounding to your ears. His name was,

“My name’s Shin Hoseok.” His name was Shin Hoseok. He was beautiful in every way, enjoyed soccer, was a bartender and had lisp. His smile was enticing, his attitude flirty but friendly. Shin Hoseok was breathtaking. And he knew your name. You’d later realise that he’d have known it even without your answer.

[rhinozilla]

Whumptober Day 23: Bleeding Out

Summary: The squad has successfully rescued Connor after he was abducted by a red ice ring. Now they just have to keep him alive.

Connects to my fic “Protect and Serve.”

--

God, it was a lot of blood. Wilson had never seen an android covered in that much blood that wasn’t shutdown. The thick, dark blue thirium had coated Connor’s entire chest, pooling in the open cavity where his chest panel was missing. It didn’t look like he was actively bleeding anymore, but the damage had been done. They had covered the exposed biocomponents with Person’s jacket, until they found the missing panel or the technicians arrived to take over.

Kneeling outside the warehouse, where gunfire was still erupting as the DPD tried to get the situation under control, Wilson held Connor’s head and shoulders across his lap, working with Hank to try and get him to drink the second pouch of thirium to replenish what he’d lost. He’d barely managed to swallow the first pouch, and Wilson could feel him getting slacker and heavier in his arms by the second.

Ben was on his feet beside them, waving down the technicians arriving on the scene. Person was holding Connor’s feet up off the ground, elevating his legs to direct the remaining blood flow back to his main biocomponents. Chris had been pulled away to help Tina with the situation inside with Gavin and Fowler.

“Ha…nk…” Connor wheezed weakly.

The skin projection had been deactivated across Connor’s entire form, but even through the adrenaline rush and the panic, Wilson and the others had easily been able to recognize him. If asked, Wilson wasn’t sure he could describe how, but it didn’t seem to matter if his face was skin and freckles or white plastic casing…They knew this was Connor.

“Hey,” Hank said, softer than Wilson had ever heard the lieutenant speak. “It’s okay,” he was saying, one hand holding Connor’s, the other hand resting on the top of his head. “I know. We’ll see you when you wake up. You’re gonna be okay, son.”

Then Connor went limp.

“Lieutenant?” Wilson asked in concern, shifting his hold as Connor’s head tipped back slack over his forearm. His LED was a steady, pulsing red.

Hank exhaled hard and sat back on the grass. “He’s gone into emergency stasis mode.”

“That sounds bad,” Person said evenly by Connor’s legs.

“It’s not great,” Hank replied, tucking the jacket around Connor’s sides. “But it’ll keep him stable for the time being. It’s also protecting his higher functions from the shock.”

Wilson looked from Hank down to Connor. His eyes were closed, and Wilson could feel the whir of the biocomponents still functioning under the plastic casing. It wasn’t exactly a pulse, but it was a sign of life. Beside him, Hank was grimacing, starting to feel the bullet wound to his own arm now that the immediate danger to his partner had passed. There was a patch of red on Person’s leg as well where she’d been grazed during the raid.

Wilson glanced up and saw Officer Harrison walking past, still in full tactical gear covering him head to toe. He was walking away from the warehouse, so Fowler must have gotten control of the situation. Harrison was a former EMT. He could help—Wilson was distracted from the retreating officer as Ben reappeared with two technicians, each with a satchel over their shoulders and toting a collapsed gurney between them.

“We got him to drink one pouch of thirium,” Ben was explaining. “I didn’t see any visible damage to his biocomponents, but his chest panel has been removed.”

Hank looked up as the two technicians knelt down to assess Connor themselves. “He went into emergency stasis just now. He was lucid and responsive up until then.”

One of the techs, a stocky, bald man with very little neck, nodded, opening his satchel while his colleague, a woman with buzzcut brown hair, gently lifted each of Connor’s eyelids, shining a penlight in them.

“Optical units responsive to light,” she reported, pocketing the penlight and placing two fingers of each hand at the points just under Connor’s jaw below his ears. Satisfied with whatever she felt there, she looked to Wilson. “Lay him flat.”

“Starting a line,” her colleague said, unpacking an intravenous kit and straightening out Connor’s nearer arm.

Wilson carefully shifted his hold on Connor, lowering him to the grass. He felt like dead weight, and the tech moved her hands under his head to keep his neck stable. She produced a small handheld device the size of a phone, switching it on and running it over Connor’s body from his head to his knees and back. She glanced at the results of the scan.

“Thirium level is at 52 percent and holding. Stress level measured at 80 percent. Internal temperature is within normal parameters, and ventilation system is functioning normally. No structural damage or system instability detected. He’s safe for transport.”

The bald tech had opened a panel in Connor’s upper arm, connecting an intravenous tube to one of his thirium lines. Blue was draining from the bag that Ben was holding up, flowing down to enter Connor’s system.

“You, you, and you,” the other tech said, pointing quickly to Person, Wilson, and Hank. “Lift on three.”

Wilson slipped his hands under Connor’s shoulders. Person kept her hands around his legs, and Hank moved his uninjured arm under his lower back. The bald tech grasped his arm with the IV in it, and the other one moved her hands under Connor’s head.

“One. Two. Three,” she counted down.

The four of them lifted up, clearing Connor’s body roughly one foot off the ground. Simultaneously, they all shifted to the right, laying him down over the gurney.

“Hey!” Gavin came screaming out of the warehouse, running toward the street. “Stop that guy!”

Wilson glanced in his direction and saw a car peeling away from the scene. Nearby cops were swiveling around to follow Gavin’s order, but the car was already gone.

“Up,” the tech said, and then she, her colleague, and Person lifted up the gurney.

Person wobbled slightly, her injured leg protesting, and Wilson hastily moved to the foot of the stretcher.

“It’s fine,” she hissed through her teeth. “I got him.”

“Let me,” Wilson stated, grasping the edge of the gurney. “C’mon.”

Her jaw flexed, but she relented, limping out of the way to let Wilson take over. He got a firm grip on the stretcher and nodded at the techs. On the gurney between them, Connor was motionless, and it made Wilson’s insides twist uneasily with the same anxiety that he always felt when a fellow officer was down.

“Let’s go,” the woman said, nodding toward the waiting ambulance.

She, Wilson, and the bald tech carried the gurney toward the back of the vehicle, while Ben carried the thirium IV bag alongside them. Hank and Person trailed behind. They loaded the gurney into the back, and the woman removed Person’s jacket from Connor’s chest, exposing the open panel and the glowing biocomponents inside. She ran her scanner over him again, found him stable, and then set the device on his lower belly to continuously monitor his condition. The bald man took the IV bag from Ben and hung it on a hook inside the ambulance.

Wilson stepped back out of the way, grasping one of the doors to close it for them, and watched them work on Connor.

C’mon, he inwardly pleaded. Hang in there, man.

The bald tech was rattling off more information that might as well have been a second language for all that Wilson could understand, and the other technician was pulling open a drawer on the wall of the ambulance, looking for something. She looked back at the cops standing at the open end of her ambulance.

“You two need medical attention,” she said pointedly to Hank and Person. “We’re taking him to Detroit Alpha Facility. What’s his designation?”

“Connor, RK800. He’s my partner,” Hank said, stepping past Wilson.

“Sir, you need—“

“You can either let me ride along, or I’m getting in my car and driving myself there,” Hank firmly. “I’m not doing anything else until I know he’s okay.”

She paused, then quickly conceded. “Up front.” She looked to Wilson. “Doors.”

Wilson closed the doors of the ambulance, and then Hank was barreling around him, heading for the front of the ambulance to ride along. Ben smacked his hand on the back of the ambulance, signaling them to go. As soon as Hank was inside, the vehicle pulled away, onto the street and toward the nearest facility.

Paramedics were approaching Person now, despite her trying to swat them away, and Ben turned to her to convince her to submit to care. Wilson noted that Gavin was gone, in pursuit of the other car that had fled the scene. Fowler was standing on the sidewalk on the radio, firing off orders into it. Chris was beside him, but Tina was jogging over to Wilson and the others.

“Connor?” she asked.

Wilson looked down at his hands, sticky with thirium and shaking slightly. He tried to wipe them on his pant legs.

“AES is taking him to Detroit Alpha. Hank went with them.” He glanced in Fowler’s direction. “What was that?”

Tina’s eyes narrowed. “Bastard got away. Fuck, I swear…if we’d only just—“

“Hey,” Ben chastised lightly, where Person had finally sat on a gurney near a human medical ambulance. “Now’s not the time for that. We got three injured, and the suspect is in the wind. You have your orders. Get back to them.”

That said, his face softened a bit, and he sighed.

“Connor’s a stubborn one. He’s gonna pull through this just fine. Now let’s go get the bastard that did this to him.”

Wilson nodded, and Tina gave herself a shake and then a hard nod as well.

“Yes, sir.”